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"downriver" poems
Almost like a mirror to Look at you. A sort of Alice on the other side Of the looking glass. You are a reflection I never thought might exist. But there are flaws spiderwebbing cracks into the glass, The picture so minutely cracked here and There that it might all just Fall out of the frame. Words, picked like highhanging fruit, Stack and Form the Edges of your Mind-- brilliant walls of Buckingham but also the boxes of fruit (high hanging like the words) floating down congolese waters and into the heart --of Darkness? only kurtz knows but does it matter? still Grand as ever-- They're words I see in myself on my side And music from Mechanicsburg Anchorage Dar es Salaam sings down the same Congo we share But the only cracks I see are with me. Your words and wit are the envoys, Celebrated diplomats from the Heart that lies downriver. eyes flash and the Fruit is bountiful and Hail the heart (wherever whatever it is down the River). The words are strong as the man who sent them (somewhere in the Heart) Such strength to speak and shout Respect commandeddemanded in the fruit I often wonder if I have it. And each time I know I don't Another crack is born. the tally man sends his beautiful fruit-- strong as everforever To the world, smileonface and gleamineye-- and you're him on the other side at the Heart.
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Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
the Congo
She wraps me in her  icy flow and chills me 'til I'm warm Soothes away the open space With sand and pebbled shores She tries to lull me downriver Gently pulling, drowsing Massaging the miles off me Relaxing I know she lies I know she'd take me to the big river Carrying me like an eddying breeze But I want to lay back and dream And slowly drift away
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Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
Cold river
But let's forget About those meaningless worries And jump into a river We could go skinny dipping As the sun melts off the side of the earth Forget regret And hold my hand, I know its cold Ill calm your shivers And warm your lips As the trees turn to intricate silhouettes Just pretend we're wild & free; like they say we should be We'll poison our little livers With laughter and loss of cares As we become more forgetful about tomorrow Or the next Day. Tonight, just me and you will Drift, together, downriver As glass bottles float around us, enclose us Neglect the Natural enquiries of how late it is Or that it's getting darker As we drown in eachothers presence I recommend You let yourself be decieved And flow downstream. We slither Softly bumping limbs underwater "accidentally" Don't defend Yourself. I know we aren't in love But could we act it? I'll deliver you kisses as we sink Deeper into The depths of a pretended plot Of an olden day flim, where the girl gives her Spontanious side a chance; And the boy plays his part.
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Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 6:09 AM UTC
as we sink.
To be still in one moment Where two hearts, together make one whole.. Where I bless his eyes As the dawn caresses the sky, and Whisper sweet my name against his lips, breathless Lays my heart-skin, awaiting the drink of his tenderness, Echoes in the quiet... Skin sensations pressed soft against A soft hypnotic night's breath... I hear it carried by the winds... and I am swept downriver in a maelstrom of memory and ache... Warm scents musk a timeless aphrodisiac, as I dream in bare skin, my urgent pulse beating, Fluttering endlessly... To the place where he seeks me, Touching my breath, Reaching inside my heart to the corners where I breathe, Pinning me beneath his pleasure Senseless and nirvanic... Strummed in the rhythm... Of slow hands... Hands warm and seeking, unfolding Within urgent whispers; Sacred moments slip into timeless joy; Where midnight hides behind moon-shadows Cradling the syllables of our deepest ache, In the fire that whispers through us... Breath, Tangible as a caress... Tangles in the flow, Swaying beneath shadows...his smile, the only temptation I ever needed, wraps tightly around My nakedness; There is passion in the way he smiles, The heavy lids of his yearning eyes gather me into the heart of him, An endless spiral...piercing my heart...burning my soul... While whispers tumble Surrounding me within the sanctity of his emotions Awaiting the feed of my lips.... Lips swollen and bruised; awaiting Amatorial sin, pounding aloud, Warmth spreads, lusting for love, while Kisses nibble the desires of tomorrow; Freeing me hot and dewy Beneath the circles of his tongue, ******* pierced with the ripening ache of warm breath, A graze of teeth, absorbing the sensation of A lava heat flow, molten moisture Upon sinned skin.... The arch of my back The touch of his fingers...........breathtakingly slow Pulsing desire through me; I Lay my mouth down And prepare a slow dance to traipse hot along cooled flesh; Oh how he quiver-throbs! Moaning my name as his fingers press me firm against him, Pounding rhythms that mock my heartbeat, Where the moon finds me arching in the moan of my sighs.... Delicately fierce, his Fire rages through me, As whispers plead upon the long, slow, Wet lick, relentless under The silent cry of surging tides And I moan within the scorching growls of his flesh Whispering incoherent mumblings Falling against me, to tremble flesh to flesh, To satiate not the momentary quivering flames, But all the self and soul of love; To be still in one moment, Where two hearts, together make one whole............
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Aug 8, 2012
Aug 8, 2012 at 7:44 PM UTC
Two Hearts:
To be still in one moment Where two hearts, together make one whole.. Where I bless his eyes As the dawn caresses the sky, and Whisper sweet my name against his lips, breathless Lays my heart-skin, awaiting the drink of his tenderness, Echoes in the quiet... Skin sensations pressed soft against A soft hypnotic night's breath... I hear it carried by the winds... and I am swept downriver in a maelstrom of memory and ache... Warm scents musk a timeless aphrodisiac, as I dream in bare skin, my urgent pulse beating, Fluttering endlessly... To the place where he seeks me, Touching my breath, Reaching inside my heart to the corners where I breathe, Pinning me beneath his pleasure Senseless and nirvanic... Strummed in the rhythm... Of slow hands... Hands warm and seeking, unfolding Within urgent whispers; Sacred moments slip into timeless joy; Where midnight hides behind moon-shadows Cradling the syllables of our deepest ache, In the fire that whispers through us... Breath, Tangible as a caress... Tangles in the flow, Swaying beneath shadows...his smile, the only temptation I ever needed, wraps tightly around My nakedness; There is passion in the way he smiles, The heavy lids of his yearning eyes gather me into the heart of him, An endless spiral...piercing my heart...burning my soul... While whispers tumble Surrounding me within the sanctity of his emotions Awaiting the feed of my lips.... Lips swollen and bruised; awaiting Amatorial sin, pounding aloud, Warmth spreads, lusting for love, while Kisses nibble the desires of tomorrow; Freeing me hot and dewy Beneath the circles of his tongue, ******* pierced with the ripening ache of warm breath, A graze of teeth, absorbing the sensation of A lava heat flow, molten moisture Upon sinned skin.... The arch of my back The touch of his fingers...........breathtakingly slow Pulsing desire through me; I Lay my mouth down And prepare a slow dance to traipse hot along cooled flesh; Oh how he quiver-throbs! Moaning my name as his fingers press me firm against him, Pounding rhythms that mock my heartbeat, Where the moon finds me arching in the moan of my sighs.... Delicately fierce, his Fire rages through me, As whispers plead upon the long, slow, Wet lick, relentless under The silent cry of surging tides And I moan within the scorching growls of his flesh Whispering incoherent mumblings Falling against me, to tremble flesh to flesh, To satiate not the momentary quivering flames, But all the self and soul of love; To be still in one moment, Where two hearts, together make one whole............
Continue reading...
70
Plastic artifact reminds me of her. Flesh and blood, she melts her own icon. My Goddess, I worship our craft, married in the Nth dimension. Our candles illuminate each hemisphere, synced red & blue, purple state. Pulp of war profits in arms, fisticuffs gerrymandered and rigged against us. We remember asunder, yet constellate in ways we cannot disconnect. Put us back together, again forever, to care for the always already poor. Rich boats raise all waters. Overboard, she fends for herself against all odds. Statuesque pin-up, femme ichthyologist of garb, gaggle *** sushi swim mate. Corners enshrine our meditation department network, transcendent yet in touch. Taste felt on tongue brings us closer together to see and hear what’s happening now. Hearts over matter, heads roll, eyes forward; brains make the most of a sticky situation. Sounds blend synethesiastically, our opposite angels harmonize to build twin passages. Wend our raft downriver, stroke unbound tandem wrists and ankles from spawn upstream. Our cocoon igloo ensconces like alien cavewomen thaw out their men, then mate on the spot. Through the delta, Venus beckons, her molten artifice pools our hull. To be baled out by Lucifer?
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Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
HeartArtMatters
This Apocalypse Summer has really got me down, but then I'm up running through what is left of town. I never got to swim the backstroke before Brunswick Basin bled Lake Olympia from amidst her oak, before Deer Creek went dead. *The streets'll burn, the bodies break and the blood washed away by beer. The streets burned, bodies broke and we're still here.* Shadow people wander the sidewalk, been here since the bombs dropped. Never got no noisy television, just watch the streets and shadows in them. I'm pushing up just like daisies and pulling them up for fun. Convinced that I'm going crazy from the trips that I get on. *Jane says she cannot get it: "something hidden...back when children." You're always looking for the road where we used to drink too drunk, where you look to have again what we had so long ago.* Do you feel it coming? on Earth His will be done. Collapse a long time coming— still nothing new under the sun. Summer is for the living. That's a bubble-bursted, sun-dried reason. It's the end or I am fibbing, still live up the rest of the season. *First came the flood then spilled blood. Had anyone caught on of that to come you know we'd never have let it begun. But it had: got you, your mother, and dad. Surely there was nothing we could do but hunker down, get a job, and rue the day they brought us into the Old World and buried the New.* I hear tell that downriver the water gets warmer; I hear tell that valley below us's a hotter n' hell, body-ridden bowl of dust. — I hear tell that upriver the trout they run thicker, the water cooler, air smoother, and **** sticks thinner. I wanna flee up that river but I'm not that good a swimmer. How do we know? We think we're smart, in fact we're geniuses. But we're still sitting and can't stop talking about... This Apocalypse Summer has really got me down, but then I'm up running through what is left of town.
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Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
Apocalypse Summer
This Apocalypse Summer has really got me down, but then I'm up running through what is left of town. I never got to swim the backstroke before Brunswick Basin bled Lake Olympia from amidst her oak, before Deer Creek went dead. *The streets'll burn, the bodies break and the blood washed away by beer. The streets burned, bodies broke and we're still here.* Shadow people wander the sidewalk, been here since the bombs dropped. Never got no noisy television, just watch the streets and shadows in them. I'm pushing up just like daisies and pulling them up for fun. Convinced that I'm going crazy from the trips that I get on. *Jane says she cannot get it: "something hidden...back when children." You're always looking for the road where we used to drink too drunk, where you look to have again what we had so long ago.* Do you feel it coming? on Earth His will be done. Collapse a long time coming— still nothing new under the sun. Summer is for the living. That's a bubble-bursted, sun-dried reason. It's the end or I am fibbing, still live up the rest of the season. *First came the flood then spilled blood. Had anyone caught on of that to come you know we'd never have let it begun. But it had: got you, your mother, and dad. Surely there was nothing we could do but hunker down, get a job, and rue the day they brought us into the Old World and buried the New.* I hear tell that downriver the water gets warmer; I hear tell that valley below us's a hotter n' hell, body-ridden bowl of dust. — I hear tell that upriver the trout they run thicker, the water cooler, air smoother, and **** sticks thinner. I wanna flee up that river but I'm not that good a swimmer. How do we know? We think we're smart, in fact we're geniuses. But we're still sitting and can't stop talking about... This Apocalypse Summer has really got me down, but then I'm up running through what is left of town.
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62
Downriver...crystalline ventricles gurgling, bedded stones believe rest--greenhorn's hymnal. Land kept at your sides, passed and passing, love's dicast. Gushed alter of the wayfarer, perfect turn of phrase--spurred onward gravity's lane. A commingling smoke of candle and incense--bird's parallel, lucid Coming... divined gauge. Euphoric to be had of earth, overflow at rain's touch. Errant yonder, solvent sketch... at-long-last's monotone declarative. Soul's minutiae in plain, downriver... downriver...downriver.
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Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
Downriver
You sweeten my life with your sugary smile I can’t start to describe how that tastes But I can feel rivers oozing out of you. Into my bloodstream you go Swimming and destroying my heart I won’t let you go until it’s time To say goodbye after you rot me. You won’t catch me just yet Not with that look in your eyes And not with iron thighs on my chest. But down you’ve gone into my bloodstream Swimming and destroying my heart Going downriver until it’s time To rot me, then let me rest. If I had a body you could possess I’m sure you’d see to it that I’m depressed With all of my happiness wasted away on you. 7th June 2016
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 4:19 AM UTC
Baby, Baby Blossom
I am empty. This pen has run all out of ink. After all, aren’t there only so many ways You can scream “sorry” to the wind? A finite number of variations on "Miss you," whispered into the infinite silence? You are no more than an echo on my bones But that knowledge does not keep me From laying open skin and muscle Layer by layer, baring my bones Like some garish xylophone And clumsily tap-tap-tapping, Trying to recreate the faint melody That hovers in the twilight of memory Nothing more than a vague outline Nearly blending into the horizon You are no more than a ghost in my darkened corners And still I chase your insubstantial form A will-o-the-wisp that draws me into the marshland of my mind Looking to catch the faintest impish flash of blue-gray mischief Pursing the shadowy figure in hopes that this time— This time!— It will prove more substantial than the vanishing mist My arms have closed around, every time past Once again I pick myself up out of the mire Trying to brush off the clinging regrets And plod back towards the path Feet dragging and leaving furrows in the ground Like an empty pen, still scratching its way across a barren page Determined to ignore any more dancing lights in the distance Knowing all too well that the resolve will only last Until the next one flickers to life and calls me into the darkness I am empty. Nothing more to say about reckless dreams of forever No reason to keep staring downriver Wondering how far that ship might have sailed Had I chosen to remain at its helm through rocky waters And yet, when I look back at the blank page I discover that the pen wasn’t empty after all And the trail it left behind Still spells your name
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Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
Still Chasing a Dream
I am empty. This pen has run all out of ink. After all, aren’t there only so many ways You can scream “sorry” to the wind? A finite number of variations on "Miss you," whispered into the infinite silence? You are no more than an echo on my bones But that knowledge does not keep me From laying open skin and muscle Layer by layer, baring my bones Like some garish xylophone And clumsily tap-tap-tapping, Trying to recreate the faint melody That hovers in the twilight of memory Nothing more than a vague outline Nearly blending into the horizon You are no more than a ghost in my darkened corners And still I chase your insubstantial form A will-o-the-wisp that draws me into the marshland of my mind Looking to catch the faintest impish flash of blue-gray mischief Pursing the shadowy figure in hopes that this time— This time!— It will prove more substantial than the vanishing mist My arms have closed around, every time past Once again I pick myself up out of the mire Trying to brush off the clinging regrets And plod back towards the path Feet dragging and leaving furrows in the ground Like an empty pen, still scratching its way across a barren page Determined to ignore any more dancing lights in the distance Knowing all too well that the resolve will only last Until the next one flickers to life and calls me into the darkness I am empty. Nothing more to say about reckless dreams of forever No reason to keep staring downriver Wondering how far that ship might have sailed Had I chosen to remain at its helm through rocky waters And yet, when I look back at the blank page I discover that the pen wasn’t empty after all And the trail it left behind Still spells your name
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41
Walking to work Pausing to watch westering geese Cross the early tints of sky Formation fraying from V to S One day Ill fly away Remembering another morning They turned in air, downriver Whilst you slept My hand pinioning your bare shoulder Lips kissing your nape
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Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC
FLIGHT FEATHERS
pinky promise we've forgotten our mortality our impulse to smile at blooms we've stared at childhood photographs and wondered why we look so angry the art of fault and denial are synonymous we've stopped speaking in hopes that silence really does speak volumes, our bodies could fell, cracked down like oak and our voices remain like cocoons, papery whispers swathed in duff, still breathlessly prating, foolish and juvenile. which goes to say-- our thoughts far procede the vessel, would last beyond our deaths and ancestry-- i once spoke about anger being passed down through the blood of irishmen - who long held the propensity to bar fight and brawl long standing feuds poured from mouth to mouth downriver, across the gap, occasionally skipping a generation the woes of our fathers are dead languages that we keep-- tongues we deliver on our own we lash out and are our mothers or laugh and see our fathers never quite our own until burgeoning, and not even that -- not all of us bloom, some of us violently tear away break the root and toss ourselves among the rocks wilted but brilliantly colored          desperate to                    learn how to speak.
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Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 11:00 PM UTC
5/30 (dead languages or learning how to speak)
Wild flowers, Water fall stream, Misty mountains far along the breeze, My dreams; so serene downriver, Filthy place where I stay, Could go on & on, though too tired to explain; I want to go far far away, My dreams that my heart yearns to stay; So close; but so far away Pushing through everyday, Depression poems are not my forte, Though it's about to evolve to one now anyway, You see no drive is an interference; To not stay where I am today, To my dream that I want to lay, In a field of wildflowers; who needs a bouquet? We all have dreams, This is mine, Conquered on the Devils time
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Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 3:42 AM UTC
Flow of life
Steady thumping, thumping. The boat travels downstream. The water is brown, from silt. The current is swift but calm. Trees line the edges of the river. Green foliage, thick on both sides. The sky is blue with white clouds. A bridge passes overhead, with cars. Downriver, a large load is being pushed, to the locks in the dam up ahead. The water is deep now and dark. An eagle cries out, and lets fly. I bring the small vessel to a stop, and watch all around me. A train on the side of the water, the barge moving away, trucks on a freeway above, the hum of shipping goods, and the beauty of nature in one. Tranquility, and constant motion. I slowly begin to turn around, and begin the steady trek, upriver to where I began.
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Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 1:49 PM UTC
Downriver
we are the champion kids, mean starry-eyed gangster babies, fresh from the trailer park; soaking up diamanté danger in glittering pink sequin bikinis and rhinestone cowboy hats. sunset swinging boricua gold hips, robbers dripping virginal deceit as 'nilla ice cream coats fruit punch lips, sighing softly under neon moonlight as we stumble through camelot, drunk off the fumes of the city. hollywood heavenly stars light up our flesh and the fake palm trees at the 76, a true downriver delight. degenerate beauty queens beaten blue by cinema kings craving insanity and perfection in sweet cocaina lines, selling our souls to weekly devils for a big shot of treasure trove *** chain-smoking cigarettes because he called me his pretty little gangster baby; lazily watching him fly through traffic, i love his rollercoaster disco mind. falling in and falling out of the world, floating across the sparkling nebulae as he waves his pistol and blue paper in my face, hoping i'll awaken from dope saturated celluloid dreams. praying my baby will come back to me from the crackhouse down the street; she smiles to the world, but i can see the tear stains on her golden cheeks.
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Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 5:28 AM UTC
diamanté drug money
They told me not to set myself on fire to keep someone else warm. But god do the flames feel good. "I want you here but I also want not to want you here" "why do you do this to yourself?" he asked her, holding her arm gently. He was so sincere she couldn't bring herself to lie. "because at least the cuts on the outside heal." left bleeding from mental lacerations tangled in my skinny jeans slinking heroically downriver. we don't say  goodbye.  we know it's the end but maybe not saying   it will make the world  stop  for   just a     moment        longer.
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Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 7:57 PM UTC
A collection of phrases
Across from the plaza where the homeless and street people usually gather on concrete steps by the Truckee River stands an old stone church stained glass angels stare down from the belfry roof whitewashed in pigeon **** Today their unblinking eyes gaze not on the poor and desperate but on smiling families a tilt a whirl a bounce house a mini carnival for children happy squeals fill the air vendors set up white tents along the swollen river a band begins playing as a crowd gathers I sit on a metal bench to rest notice a bar welded across the middle recently added dividing it in two a clear message for sleepy eyes Further downriver away from the festival the eight dollar microbrews the bassy hip hop sounds the mingled food smells two panhandlers sit inside the "B" of the giant "BELIEVE" sculpture across from the Virginia Street bridge eating plastic wrapped sandwiches passing a bottle in a brown paper bag
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Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 12:20 AM UTC
Believe
There once was a river, that flowed two ways. It broke all of the rules, and achieved the impossible. It grew and grew, then shrunk and dipped into darkness. Upriver it flourished, downriver it forgot. Never was there ever something quite like it. It left no tracks. Appeared in a whisper and left in a rush. The breath came from the wind and the course was where ever.
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Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:03 AM UTC
a river.
i sent my dreams downRiver, into your open mouth. and i stood there, shell-shocked by the sight of you, wondering what it was like to really know you. i watched your eyes close, as the sunset silhoutted your sweet curls. i exhaled a silent prayer, and hoped the wind would carry it into your lungs. my heart pumped blood into the River my body did not know how to swim. so i stood and watched you, drinking in the world, without any idea that it was my blood that tinged the water. i wanted to tell you everything i wanted to scream i wanted to touch you but you looked so peaceful, floating like you were born to defy gravity. i could not disturb you and ever forgive myself. so i knelt where i was, letting the saltwater trickle from my face to join the River, as it took you far away from me.
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Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 6:34 PM UTC
River