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Perig3e Aug 2012
My arms wrap my body
as if I were a mummy
and in the way that mummy's are stiff,
so to my paralyzed carcass,
a living entombment of wishes
that wither by noon
then baled into flop sweat shivers
for the wet wash cloth
of the next day's care giver.
Connor Jul 2018
Eternity is closed !
- come back another day with
flower smears for eyes and sincere
passion on your
palms          (weathered)

I need another Russian Doll -
Princess to frequent curtains
fashioned from fire & lead
equaling out to crimson folds
which mysteriously call to
the mystical hierarchies of
imagination

Silent requirements signal beneath the steps
which welcome
one (a stranger/
an Ibis-Beak cane & dark coat
stamped with August rain)

They arrive unexpectedly, as if to play the game
of cliches, they carry promises fashioned in foreign ports
tapping my knee
instead of my shoulder
having only known or recognized
entombment
                               (there is no hyperbole which lacks within
                                Nature's haunted heavens)

My strange visitor leaves / glass umbrella
in hand / to privacy / our brief interaction begins & ends with simple eager undertakings implemented
in the afterword  

What is in another's contemplation of me?
whiling in manifest Theosophy -

- Thought form -
Primal child-rage / whisp of violet smoke &
inksplotches abolished, mutually panting.
Our decorated
four-legged hunter
has arisen and impatiently
craves for the Earth to partner at last with
the Sun

..The Sun a blazing dime
I can smell crispness
in the air
Alexander Klein Aug 2013
sought
desperate
and double-sought. at last
inside embracing entombment
the skull-dome of earth my
mother
discovers the maiden intellect kidnapped by further
tomorrows and slakes my thirst on the
blood-brain beneath the hills of nemea.
am i the sa
vior the damsel or the beast?
curdling a slimy finger down the vaginaless brain
long veins delay my knuckles into nightingales between
serrated orifice-incisors made of thought and
all my hunting knives and bludgeons bring no unconsciousness to it. memories
they say
are as much like the present as a lion likes
cat food. The sleeping woman is about to become
cat food. cave shadows cloak what little of her is left
to imagination: nearly dead, nearly
beautiful.
does that brain-like lion stalk impenetrable as hungry
as intelligence as forceful as the crucibles of lust as
remote
as wastelands in the unforgiven breast?
i could asphyxiate that hurdle given resolve
i could lambast a mortal lion with my palms but not this
facsimile of fortitude forcefields intact. through
the nose of the wind and the mouth of the water i found my way
to the eyesockets of the very dirt; a veil
about my brain but
saw it still.
stillness
surrounded.
sought
some sign upon the smooth sphere an opening into
light or lifewaters or cold grey electricity but
no thing could penetrate that sheath of thought -- though it may yearn for fornication
some brains never breed but
condense in darkness
hermaphroditic, hunting through the silent greek city-states for
beautiful bloodrivers. there is no lion no trodden
angel weeping in a cave only
impervious struggling eternal meandering and the jar
of misdirection. thanks, hera
but it looks like you've been foiled once again and this time by your husband's headcold who said
only your brain can outthink your brain. she's a smart owl and
she's right:
every time i think i've reached my goal and
allow a little fortune or fulfillment to escape my maze eleven novel tasks
coagulate beyond my calendars of navigation. blood fills the veins of my
brain engorging it and pressuring it into questionable *******. for
if the sun breeds maggots in a dead lion
then i've emerged from the earth's crevice
victorious and spent. but there's more
to the story as i crawl off down the metaphor
wrapped beneath the brain's skinned hide its
vestigial thoughts arrest me thinking i
know, i know
eleven more sunrises until death.
thanks, brain.
Samantha May 2013
The word slithers from your mouth
Arsenic tone reverberating
Jumping on my eardrums and misting the fleshy insides of my skull
Dearest one, though unbeknownst to such a good intentioned heart
You are killing me
You lather onto her shame like oil
In your eyes she shines; epitome of all that you are not
Elusive seductress, skin tasting of intrigue
Entombment of that which lives in the blackest parts of you
Your brown eyes flashing ivy, becoming venomous,
Teeth sinking slowly with each syllable
****
Dearest deer eyes, open up
She dwells in your recesses but in my repressions as well
She is the 6 year old child emanating innocence
Closing her eyes to the fact that some parts may only be visible in the presence of Mama and Dr. Mallon
Mistaking foul play for dreams
She is the 13 year old not yet skinned of her baby fat
Caressed like the infant she most certainly is not
Lips glued with guilt and naivety
My dear, dear friend, please
You are killing me
The 16 year old girl whimpering no
Pomegranate lips  pressed to the underside of Narcissus' hand
The other digging in between quivering thighs
***** you sigh
*They're pathetic really
Alyssa Underwood Apr 2022
“Why seek the Living One among the dead?“
asked angels to a few who‘d watched the Lord
be crucified—His blood and life outpoured,
“He is not here! He‘s risen as He said!“
In days before these women wept in grief
as Jesus‘ lifeless body, wrapped in shroud,
lay buried, guarded, sealed from Paschal crowd,
but by God‘s plan entombment would be brief!
His slaying served full payment for the debt
incurred against Himself by mankind‘s sin.
His raising proved His sacrifice the win
to satisfy God‘s wrath, my debts forget!
Because Christ Jesus died but ever lives,
the sin of all who trust Him God forgives!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rae Oct 1
caged bird - is starring into the horizon
dreaming of the touch of the luminous sun
a wingless creature,
terrified her prison will be swept away into a cruel, humid coffin


...how high
                 can a mockingbird fly?


in twilight hush's, a silhouette's hasty and restless strides, do not want to stop.
the girl is darting to her death as if there was an expiration date - only that she set it for herself

she walks the line where the shadows close
her eyes scanned the surroundings, weary of undesired company
the place is empty and she resolutely starts taking her steps with more urgency


....how high
                 can a mockingbird fly?

in the cage, a feather departed on the vexing floor
the puppeteer toying with the girl's body is moving her ahead to the guardrails
a futile endeavour is made to drift away by the bird
now she is not a bird, but collapsed heap of flesh and breakables bones

....how high
                 can a mockingbird fly?


a jelly leg is now levitating above the edge,  bleeding finger tips have asked the waves crashed on the shore, to seal a forbidden agreement
she s promised they will be at their highest when she is ready to let go and later be entombment

....how high
                 can a mockingbird fly?
Cunning Linguist Jun 2013
One last breath
is all I'll need,
before I can find myself complete

One last step
is all I'll take,
before I find myself awake again

Why do my dreams torment me so?
my grasp is slipping,
I just can't let you go
stop, I can't be alone

Even when you're far gone
and I'm lost in solitude once more,
your ghost will always haunt me
with the thought of what once was,
its for the rest of time
your shadow will linger beside mine

Time is all I have left;
death parallels certainty,
and I know it will cross our paths

With one last breath,
and one last step,
time has run out,
I have nothing left
with one swift kiss
and one last goodbye,
I drift away,
and fade into the night...

Is this our conclusion?
Staring at this illusion,
we find union in seclusion
we'll be one in entombment
we're both bound to this forever endeavor;
we'll rot in the ground together,
forever and ever
He didn't want one at all.
His parents told him he needed one.
His friends told him he never had one.
"A lover?" he chuckles, "I abolish the siren's call!"

Years pass.
He lives on entertainment and work alone.
One day, he witnesses a theft; he thinks it crass.
A pursuit begins and into the skies, how high he has flown.
He nabs the thief, retrieves the pearl, and to the girl he doth go.
Reclaiming the treasure, her eyes alight, she delights in the victory.
"Thank you!" away she walks, tears from her eyes flow.
He knows not her name, or the nature of the game's history.

Days bass by.
He remembers the smile, the warmth of her heart, the passion.
He packs his things: home, family, work, friends, "Goodbye!"
He tracks her down, "I brought you honor," he's not done,
"Lady, I will bring you love every day, every hour, every moment,
If you but make me feel as you did before!"
Has a man ever before made this promise? She muses of endearment.
"I know not what I did, not that it matters anymore,
For what you have said, in my heart, has opened a door."

That feeling again! What feeling was this?
An agent of bliss? A love carrier's kiss...
He would not abandon her,
Lest things return to what they were.

The first year was quiet, riddled with passion,
Love-making, for each day, there was a limitless ration.
Yet a simmering day, cooking chaos and infamy,
Out of it was born a crook dripping with villainy.
He named himself... "Brute"
He thinks death is loot.
He collects it like a farmer consuming every shoot, every root.

Our hero did sense this, somehow he knew.
"What ails you?" she asks, "Just give me a clue."
"Our love is still strong," he notes, "But arounds us brews a bitter stew."
"What can be done?" she asks, "What must you do?"
"I must survey the lands, back to the place where I flew."
"My pearl, take it, if you die, I will mean nothing."
"Your pearl? For me? Surely not! A lie, you're bluffing."
"Take it my love, and remember me always,
When your heart aches, remember these good days."

He sighs and takes it, kisses her and flies,
There is one he will refuse to permit goodbyes.

Above the land he saw it, but his heart stopped short,
Because of dastardly things seen, horrors to report!
"No..." he moans, "Not on my watch!"
The villain had found his woman, a beauty to botch.

He flew down to their nest,
Clutching the pearl at her behest,
The clouds distorted his view,
Through them he aggressively flew,
But,
Before he could stop the end of this land,
Brute accomplished what he has planned.
"Love is no more! You were too slow to matter,
I'll drop her withered body! Hear her bones clatter..."
The hero sees the deed, but he understood her words,
Now that he has a piece of her, he can move onwards.

"Your villainy is strong, but you have not tempered destruction,
For you will soon meet, the power of my instruction."
Brute raised an eyebrow in amusement,
Is this man a cow? For I shall milk him into entombment!
His deathly gaze steady, the villain prepared his onslaught,
But our hero inhaled the clouds themselves, disturbing nature not,
"Clean up your mess Anthony, and never do this again!"
Hearing the voice of his long dead mother, Anthony, (Brute not),
Did as he was told never approaching another sin.

Our hero knelt beside the remains of his lover,
He let his tears wash her bones, for he loved her like no other.
He took the pearl that she had given him,
Pressed it into her skeletal palm on a whim.
Lo and behold!
Life seized her corpse like a gust of wind.
Embracing each other, true love they uphold.
Through them, again, the human race may begin.

Revolutions are born of feverish desire.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
My dear damsel of glaciers and scuttling roaches

In Andean splendor you startle my heart.

Still seeking a summit, your coldness reproaches;

So little I know you – in whole or in part.

Now that winter recedes as the springtime encroaches

Envision a greening of sorcery’s art.

Lighten up, dark enchantress of icy approaches;

I hope and I pray global warming may start…

Does another bad sonnet addressed to her highness

Allow for a thaw to begin in her soul?

Get over your winter of taciturn shyness!

Or is frozen entombment your element, witch?

This old necrophile waits for a smile (or a twitch).

Hell, I’d marry your corpse – but mere friendship’s my goal.
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/mine/nelida/
prior to passing thru ******, buck naked bare
this grandson of Aaron, the sole heir –
   foreshortened to Sol Aire
evinced (as shown via ultra sound),

   which at birth became crystal clear,
   an obsessive compulsive prone
   human being, endear
ringly cute as a baby monkey possessed fear
some countenance tipping the scales needled gear

greater or lesser than seven pounds
   (minus or plus a few ounces)
   with a mass of dreaklocked hair,
otherwise a gangly sack of many a lovely bone,
   whereat obstetricians
   could not help himself but jeer

thus upon exiting birth cana;
   found him twirling loose
   ***** follicular fibers accord
ding to medical records,
   a combination of his being bored

(with a really lee super strong arm penchant)
   to sport dreadlocks, tough as hemp cord
an anomaly, which no app could com pare,
   boot nonetheless highly adored

resembling inimitable indestructible filaments,
   when taut could lift off the ground a board
dillow, which no reference manual could address
even topnotch experts queried, could not explain

   outrageous constituent rare
lee if never seen before, though still insured,
a novel boot nada so critical freak of nature ma lord
hirsute component part in a triple tier moored
substantial pressure upon the head,

entwining, looping, spilling somehow
   interweaving umbilical cord
into a mass of whirled wide webbed wear suitable for
four seasons, which bamboozled,

grew like Kudzu into
   an immense globular mass galore
('bout the size of Rhose Island) after one year ****
more, and wove in part from stem cell threads, nor
ceased proliferating after birth placenta
   accrued intact and immediately put in cold store

room, a by very peculiar product
   tinged with strands of blond hair
evoking how lioness would  roar
coccooning, contriving,
   and conveying this tiny dude

   into a self concocted
   hermetically sealed giant spore
miniature mummy, who without doubt
   looked like a lady bug hide entombment
   able to survive thermonuclear war
   as a minor subsequent repercussion

the downy side understood, impeterable forest
filched countless growing years, without jest
ting, when figurative messed
hair em scare em bedlam reigned as a supreme nest
sans shrieking obsessed invisible hoodlums
   broke free their electric kool aid acid test

from maximum security solitary confinement in vest  
ment for naught (busting andirons weighing down
  with reinforced steel trapdoor cladding
   didst not bar compulsive
   banshee like imps of thee pervert,
   but merely slow down

   miniscule limbs emulated a hitch hiker thumb
   upon will could assume the Alaska Bull Worm sized
   Albatross shaped achorage)
unsinkable (short term)
   screaming, rebelling, quaking,
atomic sized banshee beastie boys
   et cetera with fiery zest.
Resilience and fluidity
Dynamics and opportunity
Creations deal with scrutiny
Be it a pattern institutionally
It seems as though I’ve crossed my eyes
I’m seeing double in the rise
An overlapping look back, a recap
Into the process of reaction
Taking and making this enlightenment be deliberate action
Thought before movement
Yet the hand strikes before the words come to mind
Death before entombment
Yet the execution happens once I’m buried alive
Bombastic exoneration for an innocent man
Glory given entitlement in the palm of the next hand
Dysfunctional psychology followed because it sounded just right
Tainted cosmology because the stars are out of sight
Bless androgyny while you say there aren’t enough wars to fight
Put it all in a blender
Dao of the contender
Going on a ******
Fix the resolution while the answer is rendered
Corner the pretender
Return to sender
Don’t miss the splendor
Got a different diet so I have to change the vendor
**RideTheDragon**
Poetic T Mar 2018
Obscurity is woven
           on our soles.
But when we
                    sleep,  
darkness's entombment
             enshrouds us all.
big sleeper Feb 2021
where have i gone?

i wasn't here yesterday
or at least not the same me
i've been exchanging
glances for limerence and
*** for pleasure and
dreams for the hollow
vacuous entombment that is
what we become -

i'd never been that close
to anything before

did i tell you i loved you enough?
Mark Dec 2018
A brisk haze lingers on the Somme before daybreak
silhouettes parade in ritual fashion;
marching spirited fallen soldiers
wistful baritones, tuning from a war long gone
to us.

Hymns are hindered by densely hazed ridden ether
fog and song colliding as death-powder and musk once fused.
Departed still combat; with duty engraved on mounds
Crabgrass; the life adorning the buried ***** remnants
accustomed to solemnly choirs - oscillating with familiarity
as some were there, tasted the ****** fallout of war.

Battle won and the song sweeps over a lush eerie Somme
a hum helpless to the will of turmoil filled winds
collide leaves tunefully - rustling to the beat of soulful outpouring
pulsing, from roots stemming into the maze of entombment
flocks of black sparrows disperse from the mesmerizing murmurs.
Brass choir can now be grasped:

This is where we lie
patriot's graved abroad
for this is where we died
flesh duly thawed.
To the Somme - we tie;
to linger forever flawed
until our home - we fly.

Our homeland! We sigh
for 'tis reason we fought
Splintered and bled dry
that death us wrought.
Let us glide o'er hills high
sever the strings so taut;
that grace then bid us bye.
Fore score minus xv orbitz ago
from being centenarian
strong contractions forced me
to pass thru ******,
buck naked bare lady,
I ranked as only grandson sharing
same surname as Aaron,
(mine paternal grandfather)
me the sole heir –
foreshortened to Sol Aire

evinced scrawniness then (as shown
via ultrasound), which at birth
became crystal clear,
unbeknownst to parents
obsessive hidden compulsive predilection
pronounced with social anxiety affliction
manifested later in life,
whose mental health of mine,
would find me at sea
schooled in counting fish,

where I did flounder with anguish,
nevertheless as newborn human being,
the propensity with panic attacks
a decade plus years in future
whereat yours truly
would wallow in despair
meanwhile bundled cuteness
ranked as excelsior,
though said infant
extremely agitated and fussy,

I possessed unusual fear
witnessed in scrunched
and furrowed brow
slightly resembled
quirky pissant outlier
tipping the scales
courtesy old fashioned
analog needled gear
greater or lesser
than seven pounds

(minus or plus a few ounces)
with a mass of
(the following feature fabricated)
dread fully locked hair,
otherwise a gangly sack
of many lovely bones,
whereat obstetricians
could not help themselves but jeer
thus upon exiting
birth canal found

yours truly anxiously twirling loose
***** follicular fibers according
to medical records prevaricated,
courtesy poetic character sketch,
whose trademark embellishment
endemic beginning to end of poem,
(your job dear reader
to distinguish fact from fiction)
reasonable rhyme now resumes
along current frayed thread

stitching baby me finding
strands of hair wrapped around fingers
surmising in retrospect, I felt bored
without access to world wide web
infant versus aging baby boomer
expressed at early stage individuality,
and nonestablishmentarian stance
sporting knotty harried styled
swiftly tailored quasi/pseudo dreadlocks,
gave Medusa a run for her money

(before they were in vogue)
tough as hemp cord
an anomaly, which
no app could compare,
boot nonetheless highly adored
and valued more than fine spun gold
resembling inimitable
indestructible filaments,
when taut could lift
off the ground a board

dill low, which no reference
manual could address
even topnotch experts
queried, could not explain
outrageous constituent rare
peculiarity the likes
never seen before,
though still insured,
a novel boot nada
so critical freak

of nature ma lord
hirsute component
partitioned in a triple tier moored
substantial pressure upon noggin,
entwining, looping, spilling somehow
interweaving insync with umbilical cord
into a mass of whirled
wide webbed wear suitable for
four seasons, which bamboozled,
grew like Kudzu

into an immense
globular mass galore
'bout the size of Rhode
Island) after one year ****
more, and wove in part
from stem cell threads, nor
ceased proliferating
after birth placenta
accrued intact and
immediately put in cold store

room, a by very peculiar product
tinged with strands
of strawberry blond hair
evoking how lioness would roar
cocooning, contriving, and conveying
this tiny dude into self concocted
hermetically sealed giant spore
miniature mummy, who without doubt
looked like a lady
bug hide entombment

able to survive thermonuclear war
as a minor subsequent repercussion
the downy side understood,
impenetrable forest
filched countless growing years,
without jesting, when
figurative messed hair em scare em
bedlam reigned as a supreme nest
sans shrieking obsessed
invisible hoodlums

broke free their electric kool
aid acid test
from maximum security solitary
confinement investment
for naught busting andirons
weighing down with reinforced
steel trap door cladding
didst not bar
compulsive banshee
like imps of thee pervert,

but merely slow down
minuscule limbs
emulated a hitchhiker thumb
upon will could assume
Alaska Bull Worm sized Albatross
shaped anchorage) unsinkable (short
term) screaming, rebelling, quaking,
atomic sized banshee beastie boys,
et cetera with fiery zest.

— The End —