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Niveda Nahta Apr 2014
Drip drop the whiskey drops,        
shattered glass,
broken heart,    
consciousness lost,
but faith not,          
I see myself lying on the cold bedded rock..
not my best work though...but I sense something in it..I just don't seem to know what..
Chelsea Jul 2017
It's the first time we meet.

I can't get a read on that sweet summer smile, or the words that drip like thick robes of gold honey; soft-spoken and seemingly slow motion, a quite complicated question pours viscously from your lips.

You ask me, "What is your name?"

Now honestly, I considered honesty. Truthfully, I prefer anonymity, but it's considered rude to not share some glimpse of identity. Albeit reluctantly, I must decide: Do I introduce myself as "Chelsea"? Or as "A Window-Pane Made of Glass Too Thin"? Well honestly, honesty isn't always the best policy.

It's our first date -
Instead of worrying about which outfit I choose, I worry about the disclaimer I wear on my arms. I worry about the first time your gaze inevitably falls upon the self-inflicted displays of pain that dress my paper-thin skin. I worry, will you see a warning sign that reads "DANGER: Do not touch"? I wonder, will you listen?

Or will you choose to swallow me whole, a bitter pill with a list of flaws longer than the side effects of your favorite antidepressant. Do the benefits outweigh the risks, do you take a trial of me to see if I'll make you feel better or feel worse? Do you pour me down the drain when you find out I'm not good enough?

It's our first kiss -
A moment tainted by guilt that the sweet taste I leave behind on your lips is not saliva, but antifreeze. Drink me down and I'll poison you from the inside-out, and there will come a day that I'll be the taste you'd do anything to erase from your mouth.

It's our first fight -
And then our second, and our third...
The sand is slipping through our hourglass too fast, as we drag our blood-stained feet through a wasteland of eggshells and glass. All that remains is a crimson trail of mistakes, meandering back to the spotless place we started at.

It's the first time we meet, and
You ask me for my name. Silence.
Should I introduce myself as "Chelsea"? Or as "A Window-Pane Made of Glass Too Thin". If I'm being honest with myself, I go with the latter...and you'll walk away to avoid the mess that comes after.
Eric Reiter Jan 2013
Just breathe.

That's what people tell me.
Angry? Just breathe.
Emotional? Just breathe.
Sad? Just breathe.
Breathing will relieve you.
But what if breathing is what you're most afraid of?

What if breathing feels like a million lit cigarettes
dancing a tango all over your body?
What if breathing feels worse than not?
The most basic act you need to perform
to stay alive is what gives you a longing to die.
Ironic, huh?

Deal with it.
Things could be worse.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

As much as people would like to think
I'm doing this for attention, I'm not.
I would never put myself through this
for a few minutes of spotlight.
I wish I didn't have to give myself a pep talk
every morning just to walk out the door
because I'm too ashamed of people looking at me
and seeing what I see.  

As much as people would like to think
I feel sorry for myself, I don't.
I feel sorry for the friends that choose to stand by me
wanting to take away my hurt but not knowing how
because I'm too arrogant to accept their help.
I feel sorry for my mother whose own sadness
I've failed to find an answer to.
I feel sorry for both of my parents,
because they live in such small minds that
being my true self would be too much
and crush them.

As much as people would like to think
I should just deal with it, I can't.
Maybe I don't know how.
Maybe it's a puzzle I can't find the pieces for.
Maybe deep down I'm just selfish.
Maybe I let myself get this way.
Maybe I like feeling the pain.
Maybe I'm scared of what I'd feel instead.

Maybe I wish I wasn't such a coward.
Sometimes I wish I was strong enough to let
the shiny sharp silver take the ride down the river
of my arms and watch all of my disappointments
and failures and ugliness and mistakes
drip from my skin to the concrete.

Maybe I'll deal with it.
Maybe I'll stop being selfish.
Maybe I can find the strength
to muster up a weak smile,
and fool everyone.

Maybe I'll just breathe.
Ashlyn Yoshida Mar 2020
By playing hatred for attention
       the ones who need it are ignored.
Drip
           Drip
                        Drip
                         Shaking, fidgeting
                                          tape around cotton *****
                red seeping through my shirt sleeve
                    They're going to see what I did
What I've become
What I always was inside.
It's no one's fault but my own
.     .     .
But they don't give a ****.
I am a miner. The light burns blue.
Waxy stalactites
Drip and thicken, tears

The earthen womb

Exudes from its dead boredom.
Black bat airs

Wrap me, raggy shawls,
Cold homicides.
They weld to me like plums.

Old cave of calcium
Icicles, old echoer.
Even the newts are white,

Those holy Joes.
And the fish, the fish----
Christ! They are panes of ice,

A vice of knives,
A piranha
Religion, drinking

Its first communion out of my live toes.
The candle
Gulps and recovers its small altitude,

Its yellows hearten.
O love, how did you get here?
O embryo

Remembering, even in sleep,
Your crossed position.
The blood blooms clean

In you, ruby.
The pain
You wake to is not yours.

Love, love,
I have hung our cave with roses.
With soft rugs----

The last of Victoriana.
Let the stars
Plummet to their dark address,

Let the mercuric
Atoms that ******* drip
Into the terrible well,

You are the one
Solid the spaces lean on, envious.
You are the baby in the barn.
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Waiting for spring to return this winter’s day.
Straining to touch warm breezes of the past.
Caught in this prison of gray and white.
Wishing to break these dark chains that hold me.

Remnants of fall, crumpled like brown paper on the ground.
Straws of pale brown growing up through the snow, ******* it dry.
Seeds and freeze dried fruit lay scattered about under trees.
Bare limbs and stalks drip with liquid glass.

Trees hanging bare, gray in lifelessness.
Winter birds call out, single in their pursuit of leftover meals.
Tracks of animals unknown dot the landscape with patchwork.
Waves of ridges etched in white lead off to nowhere.

Sparse, sun filled days bring brief glimpses of hope.
With the promise of warmth waiting to banish the cold
that holds me to my past and this existence;
waiting for spring to return and thaw this frozen heart.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Do you
promise
to honour and obey?
The marriage of yesterday.

You get what you deserve
and I reserve the right
to slip away at night
and go out clubbing.

I'm not the one to criticise
the way you dress
the make up on your eyes
but have you looked
lately?
Stately homes come to mind
are you mad or are you blinded by the factories that drip dry fripperies that you use as you please
and I never please you
excuse me
is that powder on your powdered face quite dry
and why use it anyway?

Girls today are quite insane lipstick on the brain
and more upon their lips
I slip into a reverie and see
the you of long ago before you went and spent each dollar earned
on cosmetically engineered potions for perms
At times I squirm with embarrassment
at others 'oh brother'
I look away
this is not the marriage of yesterday
or the woman that I know
must go and check the requirement for a retirement home
somewhere far away and alone
Can't stand the smell of eau de cologne
any more.
donovan Jul 2014
who needs a clipboard anyway?
the back of a lover's legs are enough
lacking the flat judgement of wood
embracing the fluid of my words
upon the sweet kiss of skin.

absorb me in the cracks of your mind.
soak me into the patience of your smile.
drink me in the holes of your eyes.
lead me into the scars of your past.
lose me in the folds of your heart.

crack open the yolk of my heart
and let me leak into my streets of veins.
allow me to drip into your soul
and sink like grinds to the bottom
of my midmorning melancholy coffee.

the ink of my favorite pen
seeps into the threads of my sleeves.
i sit, watching it spread across fibers
to infect new lands and
conquer old stains.

my ship never had a sail but
my hands are strong enough oars
i can carry myself across oceans
treading night after night
until i reach you on the shore.
Autum Fay Dec 2013
I’d like to hang upside down
so that my tears run up my face and drip
from the tips of my hair
Form puddles beneath my suspended mind
and ripple outward with each coming scream

When my head gets heavy
with the poorly circulated blood
and bricks of thought
I will shake my mind wild
in hope that it will be flung from my eyes
and will splatter far across the ground

I’d like to be squeezed
closed tight in a suspension that promises contradiction
Chris Weallans Feb 2015
I woke at two
In the deep dark
with rain making soft lullabies
beyond the window.

In this space,
this moment
beneath the mantle,
There are splatters and deltas
Splayed like stretched fingers.

The drip from overhangs,
the dribble from ledges,
the patter at the glass,
as sure and soft as fingers on flesh

and there the hush
like breath against a summer tree
or a sigh of ghosts; still warm
with the memory of lost loves

So for a little while
I lie down in the darkness
and listen
Patrick Garfield Sep 2012
Darkness spilt in here today,
bled more like it.
Seeped between cracks in the linoleum
and slowly climbed the wall.

Soon it covered the fluorescents,
started to drip,
formed a puddle on my arm
didn't burn like I expected.

Rather,it soothed
and gently reassured;
told me how light is conditional
but darkness is lasting.

Darkness told me why fireflies prefer the light:
It absorbs them.
Leaves them suspended,
they're not fireflies anymore.
Just light.
Empty space, hanging there.

At dusk they return,
burdened by selfhood,
remembering what NOTHING felt like:
anatomy betrays them too soon.

Darkness has to go now,
back through the linoleum.
It tells me that people like me,
lingerers,
are never far from the darkness,
you just have to see through
All these **** lights.
Wolfey Mar 2013
Fresh red scars lay upon the right side of my stomach.
They weren't too large.
Weren't too deep.
12 lines that  weren't perfectly horizontal.
They let me feel.
Feel the feeling of something else than nothing.

Sore.

I cring as I place my purple tank top on.
Covering the crime that I commit more than once.
During the day I don't even remember them.
Until I place a binder against them.
They scream in pain, I wince just slightly.
Then soon welcoming the pain, yet its comfortable.

Relief.

Even though its not the right way to handle things.
Can you blame me for still wanting to feel?
My life has been a struggle for my entire life.
At first, I thought there was no other way to handle the pain.
Thought I just had to deal and let myself suffer.
But then an idea clicked in my messed up mind.

Razor.

The first time it met my skin, I was nervous.
Scared to see the blood rush down my arm and drip .
It hurt at first, my teeth clenched.
But soon the numb came.
And that's when I knew.
I had made a

Friend.
Anna Oct 2013
The weather was quite lovely today. It reminded me of you. And I have not a clue why it had done so.
Because you are not lovely…not on the inside anyways. You are dark and twisted, a black hole of self obsession where you had lost yourself. I almost ended the same when I tried in vain to save you.
This whole relationship was in vain. We both knew it wouldn't last. Warning myself, I decided not to become attached. But you latched on like a leech, a parasite draining every ounce that I had, drip by drip. Tainted, I was dependent on you. That gave you satisfaction. Watching me reach in desperation as you walked away. Seeing me phased and confused as to what had caused this disruption in this seemingly happy facade.
And I fought for you. Through blinded eyes and bleeding hands, I gave my all when you gave me nothing. You watched in pleasure of knowing what a valued treasure you were to me. What you are to me. Things I had done are things I will still do.
It's not because I loved you.
It's because I love you.
Ivie Jun 2013
Oh how the freckles grace you pale skin, forming a map and an ocean, my fingers the airplane,
- gliding across the mangrove forests your eyelashes form
Fiery strands of silk glowing in the reverie, underneath the palm tree –entangled with poison ivy
I wanted to ask you to stay, I needed you to stay, but you were like sand, slipping from my fingers,
The ocean swept you away during evening tides, faraway to the Bermuda triangle
Your fingerprints etched on my spine, blazing in the iridescent sunlight,
Lips still tingling in the morning light, drawing into a smile, reminiscing past time.
Then fading, frowning, morose from the flow of life, the course of time.
Cracked shells abundant on the beach, no traces of hued sand dollars,
Too many love song records, your playlist pumping like a beating heart in my ears,
Feeding me lies, the idea of eternity drowning me in its addictive incense
Deadly and irresistible like the deadly nightshade, but love, time shot me
We bled profusely, till we were outlines of chalk, a mess of capillaries and a
Web of broken bones, till we couldn’t breathe anymore and the memories became our drip-
The only hope.
Charlie Hazels May 2014
If I close my eyes and think of you
I can smell your scent
From a mere two days ago
The flutter in my heart follows

If I close my eyes and think of my father
I can smell the joints
That I identified aged 10
I try not to *****

If I close my eyes and think of my best friend
I can smell her perfume and washing powder
It makes me smile
And want a hug

If I close my eyes and think of my father
I can smell the stale beer
A middle of the night smell
It meant 'don't leave your room'

If I close my eyes and think of my mum
I smell safety and comfort
Strength and gravity
The balance keeps me strong

If I close my eyes and think of my father
I can smell the stale sweat
The cruel words of abuse
The hatred inside myself

If I close my eyes and think of my sister
I smell vanilla and style
Fashion and creativity
Sullen kindness

If I close my eyes and think of my father
I can smell the cold of the room
With its broken window in the arctic temperatures
The fire unlit because the marijuana needed somewhere to grow

If I close my eyes and think of school
I smell the comforting sawdust
The corridors familiar
The classrooms like home

If I close my eyes and think of my father
Not having friends round to tea- because.
16 not 6-  you can't buy my trust
16 not 46- don't want prayer flags for my birthday

If I close my eyes and think of home
I smell the damp washing hanging up
Every squeaky floorboard
Every drip, clank, comforting noise

If I close my eyes and think of my father
I smell the power he loved to have
How I haven't seen him in three years
The fear that still remains

If I close my eyes and think of myself
I smell nothing
Hear and see nothing
At that is what scares me the most.
This kind of has evrything all in one poem, normally i keep love and my father as different topics but not today.
Wind shouting
Drip drops falling
Worrying
Animals scurrying
Storm ranting
Clouds sobbing
Wind shouting
Then pass
svdgrl Oct 2014
Online deals are the best distraction
for the leaky feeling in my chest.
Every click wipes a drip.
A shopping cart comprised of sale items,
the pair of oddly patterned socks,
suspenders no one will ever wear,
men's sweater in an extra-small,
an obscure band shirt-
all unwanted sitting in a 20 dollar cart.
I want them.
5 more dollars and it's free shipping.
Throw in unpopular shades of makeup
and a friendship bracelet.
Looking forward to the delivery man.
So involved in the next best sale-
the pain of neglect is removed with mail.
i am in the clearance section-
waiting to be reconsidered
my emotions are overstock-
please pick one up half-off.

Sometimes I never complete my purchase.
Imaginary carts of imaginary feelings.
Dump them away and forget their existence.
Someone else might see their worth
and make me wish I bought them first.
Rainy day
a broken package.
my leaky heart
drenched in mud
wash me don't
leave me
don't forget me in the
mailbox by the door.

Only 5 bucks.
don't return me
to the store.

It was free shipping.
i promise i can be
more

Fine, I'll take it.
Months of dust.
i am sitting in the drawer,
wondering why you even bought me.
just because i was on sale-
now you never look my way.

Off to goodwill.
Consumer's guilty pill.
Joshua Haines May 2014
I cut myself on the future
I thought of kissing your picture
I detached myself from
lullabies and sorry eyes
only to realize:

I want to make love to you in November,
just before the empty of December.
Where snow blankets
and suffocating leaf-beds
aren't the only dreams
to fall asleep in our heads.

I could hear your voice trip
as my hands started to drip
around your hips and thighs-
You could tranquilize
with your lips and byes.

You look so sleepy-headed
Many words I have threaded
to weave a dream
desperately
but you prefer my
reality.
Olivia Kent Aug 2014
Me,
I feel like ice cream.
I melt at your touch,
loving your great taste.
I drip,
you move too close to me.

You moved close to me a while ago.
You fed my head with strawberries and laid my head beneath the trees.
You saved me from the rippling breeze.
My body you kept so warm.
You were charming.
I was calmed,
after many storms.
The breeze turned into a raging gale,
as on a branch my heart impaled.
You said you loved me.
As we stroked the sapphire dragonfly,
passion before our eyes.
I melted,
a pool of slush.
My heart a remnant,
in a pool of soggy sticky slush.
As a fool,
now I drown.
I drown in the tears of the poetic clown.
(C) Livvi
Travis Garcelon Nov 2010
There you stand in a ring of fire
feeling gravity **** you down
tearing you away layer by layer.
And like a dying red giant
you collapse and bear defeat.

Here you lay on an ice sheet of apathy;
the chilling wind slapping you in the face.
A precipitation of tears drip from your swollen eyes
and a blue Aura shrouds your head;
you weep your way through this transition.

Now you float; mind from body.
And like an infrared mist of electromagnetic static
you shoot up! Towards the heavens!
Taking your place amongst the stars
and reuniting with your ancestors
Sally A Bayan Jan 2015
(Java Jibe)

This  night is very different.
It is young
The moon is out there...in full view,
But it's like there is no moon,
It is dull, it doesn't glow,
Looks like a paper moon.

An empty corner meets my eyes.
Window is closed...door is ajar,
Posts...ceilings...walls...all are naked,
White...unmoving...lifeless.

I sigh,
But, a sigh is just a sigh,
Not encouraging in this piercing cold,
I find no help offered.

...just a plate to my left---with stuff..

I take a sip,
A *******, I dip...
Maybe, I could bite a tip
Or...a drip
From the dip,
Again, more sips...
This time, no more dips...
()
()
()
Mind is now deeply dipped,
W a i t i n g...with the hands
F l e x i n g.....ah, I'm
T r y i n g...to capture them now,
Stop these kites from flying
Away, out of my brain, fleeing...
This moment......I now seize,
Will stretch it to long hours, into a night of bliss,
My hot, strong, bitter drink always helps me clear the way,
The boulder, is now fragmented...crushed,
Pushed further away, to flow towards a lazy, lethargic river.  

It matters not to me,
Could be a poem or a ditty
This is a supernal moment
When ideas so potent
Like tap water, flows with no end.

This is one of those nights
When I would fall, then rise again, and take flight
Reviving inspirations to a glowing height
One moment I can't let go...I am in a JAVA JIBE
Oh, I've never been so A L I V E !

1/3/15

Sally

Copyright 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Amanda Kay Burke Jul 2021
I don't know how to say this
Do not want to break your heart
Want to be the person you wish I could be
We'd be better off apart

Where is this going?
Got to be able to tell
Noticing for awhile
Haven't been doing so well

I fought dozens of battles
Silently in mind
Kept them imprisoned
Less conflict confined

I should face problems
But I am a coward so I run
Hard to conquer an argument
You already believe you won

Maybe I am being harsh
I can only take so much
A relationship is supposed to be
More than people who touch

See sometimes feel a tingle
Think "this isn't so bad"
That itself means it is
To deny must be raving mad

The friction is obvious
Where do I draw the line?
I am stuck in an internal war
Between your emotions and mine

My hands might be lonely
When clasped something is amiss
As long as yours fills gaps between fingers
Nobody else can see if theirs fits

If being totally honest
Seems you don't really care about me
Tears drip out eyes all the time
You are too self-centered to see

Trying to build life back up
You are standing in my way
Making things harder than already are
Painting sky shades of grey

I am opening eyes to reality
Hope you do that too
We both need to stop lying to ourselves
We know it isn't true

I taste sorry on my tongue again
Taste regret on my lips
Obligation squeezes tighter
When you put arms around hips

Only now letting you know
How much feelings have changed
My head full of hope for a heavy heart Hung from noose was exchanged

I should have been forthcoming
Informed you was over as soon as I knew
I can't stand causing others pain
Why it took this long to say this to you

But sick of home not feeling like home
In own room feel out of place
You've transformed it to your own
Do not have a single private space

You are a tornado
In wake is a trail of destruction
Many flaws get in the way
About time I move obstruction

Your ego too big for me
To properly see around
In fact how do you even lift your head?
Must weigh a thousand pounds

Your conceited attitude more often than not
Provokes until seeing red
Arrogance unattractive
Try acting humble instead

I cannot picture a future with you
You are inconsiderate and dumb
No ambition or work ethic
Would rather be a ***

You take time with everything
Never met someone so slow
Put so much effort and see no results
Almost no progress to show

Without my aid what will you do?
How will you get high?
Depend on everybody else around you
If you desired you could get by

Lungs filled with poison
Bloodstream with *****
Need crutches to get through each day
Think these substances are helping
They really only get in the way

With only pride and standards
I will continue life in solitude
Better than being with someone who's naive
Not to mention selfish and rude

Consequences for actions
Finally caught up to where we are
Have tolerated a lot of *******
I've decided I'm raising the bar

My goal is to go further in my life
Than you plan to go
Hindering distance to travel
Making it challenging to grow

Soon you'll be left in the dust
Discovering I was right
Won't be able to use me as an excuse
For failure when I'm out of sight

You call me idiotic pet names
What I am in your contacts under is bold
McPoops?
Actually prefer "The *****"
What are you? Six years old?

How many occasions have you pouted?
Sulking because you disagreed
With words said or things done?
I gave no choice but concede

I have every right to be unhappy
How can you not understand why?
May not always be reason for tears
You sure do not help them dry

Are you center of universe?
That is how you act
Helping yourself to anything viewed
You are entitled and that is a fact

I do not know if you do it on purpose
You disrespect everyone here
Using stuff but not asking
To rules you do not adhere

The only person I have ever met
Who is even lazier than me
Make messes faster than you clean up
Cannot handle responsibility

Not to mention you can't keep track
Of any possession you own
Or that you failed to pay back majority
Of money you have been loaned

Your expensive eating habits
And cockiness get on nerves
Believe you are correct about every subject
Isolation what you deserve

You break trust without hesitation
Snitching on me like a rat
If I plead with you to keep a secret
You can't even follow through with that

You probably think we are being mean
That you are misunderstood
If that's true then tell me this
What have you done that's good?

You disassemble stuff like a tweaker
Not putting back in one piece
Have given you so many chances
Still the madness won't cease

It is an eternal struggle
To even get you to barely move
Just procrastinate your life away
After promising to improve

Rather live in solitude
Than with a theif who lies
Took two CATs of my dad's
You thought he would not realize?

And when telling you something
You do not want to hear
Pretend to agree with statement
Goes out the other ear

You have to get your priorities straight
It's clear you never will
How are you expecting to survive
Without ambition
Sapience
Skill?

You expect others to carry your load
Piggybacking much as you can
The behavior of a little boy
How dare you call yourself a man

But when affecting your wallet
You are stingy as they come
Generosity is not in your vocabulary
Unless receiving some

Then have the audacity
To judge the way I live
Degrading me because of choices
After the ****** up **** I forgive

At least I do not blame my dependency
For why I'm unable to function
Worse still you put fault for your addiction
On pharmaceutical corruption

I have met plenty of people
Fed prescriptions as a child
Medicated whole **** life
Their abilities are not defiled

You envision the world to your favor
Instead of how it is for real
Perception the problem here
Delusion rooted in privilege you feel

You have a lot of growing up to do
Wish I would have waited
Gotten to know who you really are
Now I wish we never dated
A breakup poem
you fall
you gently kiss the earth
you hydrate us and our world
so quietly

there is a slight hum as you pass my ears
I love it
I walk through the forest
the leaves are a thousand different colors
yellow
red
purple
orange

the pitter patter of the leafs dripping
the trees bark almost black in areas
soft foam coming from the tree
the leaves are shiny on the ground

the air smells of wet pine tree
and decomposing pine needles and acorns
the red bird flies from birch to birch
and pick the holly leaves
the Blue Jay screeches and flies away

while in the distance a squirrel
soaked from the rain runs to his tree
in his mouth there is about  a dozen nuts

I walk up the path
I can see all of the uprising roots
the trees drip from the extra water
the air is chilly
but to me rain
you are peaceful
and you are what makes me happy
Aztec Warrior Feb 2016
Friday Night: It’s a **** Thang**

Smoke fills the air,
the sweet doobie scent
of high
times and
my fingers raising rainbows
as they travel across your naked skin.
Apricot nippled *******
brush my lips with
a music intoxicatingly
****** and you drip sexuality
all over me.
A love leaving me spin
in wildly exotic,
red lacy visions
of your mescaline funk
and lips on mine
driving me drunk with allusions
of your quivering release-
the  l  o  n  g  
s  l  o  w   version.

Oh no, “I don’t want a cure for this.”
As Diana says,
“Don’t call the doctor.”
I just need more tokes
on this sweet, sweet love.

Aztec Warrior/redzone 2.19.16
..the song is once again Diana Ross' "Love Hangover"
https://youtu.be/niEYaeYa72U

Some years ago now, poets at another web site did this "******/sensual tastefully done poetry every Friday night. Sometimes collaborating and it was great fun... well I was thinking about this after a friend asked about "what kind of trouble do you like to get in"? So, here is some "trouble for you?? Thanks for the idea... ;0)
"No cure, no remedy, don't call the doctor!!"
They have become defiled
They have defiled the land

"It's so unfair," she said. "Is this a loving God
Who sanctions genocide?
Who commands His people to slay man, woman and child?
A nation condemned, not the first
An entire planet submerged
Heaven snatched away for disobedience
No, I will not tolerate such a Deity."

In dark caves the Canaanite altars drip with the blood of children
The stench of feces and foul ***** taints the air
Yellow pools glisten in torch light
**** drips from the walls, piles up in mounds scattered on the floor
Animals mill about, sniffing the carcasses of other beasts
Each one kept for a purpose, dead and alive
No golden calves here, only warm flesh unyielding
Worthless for breeding, unneeded
For the Canaanites feed on the carrion of their own battlefields
The meat of their own brothers
Sisters, Fathers, Mothers
The feast devoured, bellies full, sated
The leftovers packed in salt for another day

Night falls, soon the stone that seals the altar tomb
Will be rolled away
The strongest of the peoples will enter the huge cavern
To claim their rightful reward
Until then...

The sounds of grunting women and children
None resisting, none even caring
Most feel nothing
The women should be crying, the children screaming
Only the infants' wails stand out against the cacophony
The noise of mindless rutting, the tears drawn by innocence crushed
Man and woman so desensitized
They barely feel anything anymore
But they remember the sensation
They strive to get it back
The Canaanites have become too ignorant to realize
They never will
So they've turned it into a God
Given it life, passed it on, infecting their enemies
Every bit as lethal as the diseases they've unwittingly cultivated
Passed on to open hearts and open minds
And to their infants and children
A malaise that blossoms into deformity, leprosy or worse

On a dais in the center of the cave
Are seven corpses
The Strong Men know them well

A Canaanite woman squats in a field on the edge of the village
She heaves and groans, face red from effort
With a final push she feels relief
The tiny thud of a newborn hitting the ground distracts her
To her it is nothing more than another form of defecation
She wraps the umbilical cord around her right hand
With her left she grasps the slimy casing
With a quick, purposeful **** she tears it in two
Rips, wanting nothing more to do with the burden she's carried for nine months
A final glance at the condemned child
The sand around it's body blotted with blood and issue
It's airless plea unheeded
She turns and walks away, apathetic
She's done this before
Many, many times before

The cave echoes with an ungodly sound
The Strong Men harness the beasts
The noise is maddening
The Strong Men dominate
Their laughter is insane
The creatures, they believe, are their prize
After all, they are the Strong Men
They are the leaders of the land

Friendship is dead
Compassion is dead
Fear is dead
Hope is dead
Desire is dead
Reason is dead
Logic is dead
Understanding is dead
Joy is dead
Peace is dead
Patience is dead
Kindness is dead
Self-control is dead
Faithfulness is dead
Gentleness is dead
Goodness is dead
Love is dead
Dead as the corpses on the altar
Dumb as the animals in the cages
If those creatures were sentient beings
They would beg for the slaughter
If the Canaanites had not so long been numb
They would pray for the same

The Strong Men
Are ready
Now
For the
Corpses

****

A loving God puts a crippled horse out of it's misery
A loving God buries it deep underground

A loving God does not condemn without reason
Without good reason

A loving God does not sanction genocide
But He will clear a field full of rabid skunks
© 2010 by James Arthur Casey
Brycical Aug 2015
When you spread your
lips,
like wings,
your midnight words
whisper on my
skin.

Late night hair
twirls,
like smoke,
in a dark gust
spiraling towards my
hands.

Watercolor eyes
drip,
like ice,
glistening in the moon,
reflecting rainbows on my
shadow.
response to another piece of artwork....
http://arterika.tumblr.com/post/120069057788/moonbird-2015
Jimmy King Jan 2014
The dishwasher isn’t running
So I can’t clean these mugs for our tea.
I try to just use the ***** ones
But the moment of grand illusion,
In which seem like the stove might just light,
Is passing and the water just sits there
Awaiting that spark to boil.

Long after the moment passes, the gas still rushes out
With this rapid clicking sound that makes my whole body
Flinch in its rhythm.
I’m thinking: don’t clean them by hand,
Don’t go get a match.
But I can’t keep my feet
From dragging across this too-smooth
Tile kitchen floor,
To the sink,
To the cupboard.

It doesn’t matter though,
Because by the time everything’s set and ready
The water’s all gone- spilled across the floor.
I don’t notice. Even as the water
Seeps into my socks
I light the burner with the match;
Nothing for it to boil.
Sitting pointlessly on the flame,
The teakettle slowly starts to melt.
I watch that glowing red iron drip towards the flame
And slowly the dampness on the bottoms of my feet
Starts to hit me.
REAL Oct 2013
Oh i drank coffee
Tired as hell
knowing how the story went
from begining to end

Now Now
come
drip from hair to my toes
please
make my fingers numb
and make my heart stop to beat

oh the night was young

both of us together

both of us together

oh what now
what now

shall i do
with this heart that melts so?
collect it in a bucket
and try to put back to its shape

oh no
but how

once this melts
no going back

all i need to do is now
is let it melt
until its all gone and i'll drown
and my heart comes back anew

oh these tears
how
they came out
like flowers

for her
nellie May 2019
have you ever tasted cherries on warm summer nights?
the cherries that sparkle when you bite,
that drip down your lips
melting with the slick of your tongue.
cherries,
high up the trees, unattainable, beautiful.
cherries
that for a moment relieve you of your deityless existence.
I ,too , have met someone
unattainable, beautiful, high up in the trees
a dancer
with subtle glances at her own posture
as she pursues her lip
and tips her feet forward
as she moves to the beat
of life
her breath tucked in
making sure that every muscle is
attentive
her nerves singing and
her gaze
oh the gaze of someone of lustrous
cherries
held tightly to yours never letting go
oh those twisted violets
like the deepest of blue
waters
unattainable far away
in a distant land the darks of
iceland
the rocks that perk up high mountains
that rise up to the skies and tell you
no
the stormy winter nights that hodl tightly on
and never let go and
her that sits barely glancing your way as you conjure up memories and
imaginations of her of stormy days
of the clouds that waver over your face
that do not let you go.
She is all that she is intense.
She is mystical
out of this world
not one to know not one to be whispered to, beauty she is.
aphrodites daughter.
Even if she is unknown to you
the world knows of her. For she screams
she screams and is grabbed the attention of
7 billion. she is
a haunting memory.
The touch of a spell that binds you into
horror filled
trenchuous nightmares.
And when He
holds her it crushes your very being
you cannot breathe cannot see cannot be
you are all hers
you are devoted
you have become the very essence of Her
You cannot seem to look away.
She exists ingrained into your eyes
as you close them
in your dreams enchanted
into your heart
she is the mystical of the world
the fairy tales told by generations
of generations,
my love.
whom i devote so strongly to
whos cherry picked stares
fumble up into a
no.
I am a meer mortal in her presence
not one able to make her smile
trying to get an ounce of her attention
of her anything,
her everything
Please be mine
please be mine
please be mine
          you chant
But you know He is there.
The **** the wilderness wolf, cheating abyss. He has done her wrong but
she does not see her as she dances the gentle way she moves
black swan
blue dozens
the galaxies
containing the answers we have seeked
she does not look at you
you are invisible
but
He does not see Her for who she is
a painting
a beauty
out of this world
she is not mine.
not my best work . but very intense

— The End —