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Foxfire you burn holes in my heart and fill them just the same,
covering my veins with glitter-dust and Ashes,
These ashes rebirth into something bigger,
Warming quilt of feather, Phoenix rising
Rising storm,
This thunder fills my lungs and fills my throat I want to sing. Bring.
I want to sing out the tar from my lungs
I want to paint this concrete with my love.

My lungs love
Doves to red and dug in deeper, Gold.

Accomplishing nothing just minor goals.
This coal can be painted with gold.

Coral reef, alveoli
These cables fill holes in me.

Rebar, concrete.
These fables fill my holes with gold.

Doves fill my heart's holes.
**Love
     Is
          Gold.
ANANDO SEN Jul 2010
Chasing the dreams to touch the sky, shaking the roots of feminism;

Happy to shoot for the Vogue, Cosmopolitan and Gia's plagiarism-

All for her superstar Angel, she lived the attitude of lesbianism;

From Philadelphia to New York she sold, her fraternity and parental prism-

The ambitious gal, the ambition gal felt addicted to ******* and heroinism.

Climbing the hills in Beverly was not tough enough, shredding chastity for mean;

Hallowing for her Tomb Raider, she swallowed her city of sin-

All in her attempts she brewed her habits, she tattooed destiny for her queen;

From abortion to scandals;   she breathed to see her prolific akin-

The injured gal, the pitted gal still nearly was not doomed to grin.



Succumbing like the serpentine in salt, still longing to meet her dream star;

One fine morning she was found half-dead down the alley, waging her life-war-

All the fever she had, yet not looking to get out of the foxfire;

From one hospital to another, she was taken and was declared a patient of cancer;

The lucky gal, the ******* gal was lame enough to meet her jester.

The tumor had eaten her bones, like the steroids that made her a body-

Donating a million dollars in charity, made a brief appearance by Angelina Jollie;

All in her graceful charm, she penetrated hope to fight the disease folly-

From a life directionless to the motive of her strife, she kissed her cheeks and regretted being silly-

The ambitious gal, the ambition gal had just a single day to cherish her so called glory.
Angelina Jolie the heart-throb hollywood actress might have millions of fans, but she has her own story. There are always two sides of a coin, the hidden tales of struggle behind the so seemed success, and an autobiography of every human being sometimes not to be shared, and not to be repeated. Science describes the study of DNA's as individualistic and that no such DNA to be copied. And when such an attempt has been made in grafting, you might have some disorder. Similar is the pathetic story of Angel, the central character, that ultimately fights her life with her copy-con disorderly syndrome, being a fan of the superstar. However, she manages to win a date appointed by her fate with her dream kiss to her goddess's cheek and achieves some sort of heroinism to call herself an ambition girl.
Carlo C Gomez Sep 2020
Cold to the touch / this scene is a long dream / bio-luminescent submarine / keep it light / keep it moving / this whole dream is all of me / illuminating needles on the barometer / the compass of a turtle /
entente with nature / I am the mimicry / and the signaling / to breaking waves / to new possibilities / the new, warm blood flowing / in steady, sated lanterns of hope...
Ashley Moor Feb 2021
The witches and waitresses
of the Appalachians
follow only one
God.
I have seen her on occasion
carving midnight embers
from her spine
illuminating a divine magic
found only
in the season
of the Gemini.
She hunts by moonlight
chasing the sweetest
perfume of the mountains
indulging in the whims
of the lilacs.
In my dreams
she spins
with the moon
dancing circles
‘round my room.
The dirt of which woman
is made
will be sifted
in the hands
of the Appalachian
Woman God.
And in my sleep
I witness
the creation
of Wild Woman -
a divine prophet
setting the countryside
ablaze
in a rebellion
of foxfire.
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Antrorse are these two stretched hands! Parched unto the atmosphere, colorful stratosphere dimmed, yet not darkened yet!
Burgonet feelings are quite openly. Outspokingly disgraceful. Some wear marvels, others turned disgraceful.. How distasteful!!!
Burlap past times and I'm still knitted in, wherein memories are the remembrance of a past who maketh thou to be thou. Buskin druid....
Flustering is soo highly overtaken, for thine innards goes outdated, as prayers are daily struggles. Mixed and ruffled, as the freckles to ones current displace..
Foxfire flame can be seen in hidden oaks, wherein thou art clogged by forest smoke, yet/ made by thine own destructions... Rich haveth luncheons, as schooltime sells cheap embargo's!!!renew tomorrow!!!!
Icterus slumbering dots have taken the whole!!!while t.v rots thy soul, the news comes day in day out!!! All the same but worse!!!!battle dispersed!!!
Indign I am to past the pearly gates! For to early or to late, its better to make it in than not!!!!
Sam Temple Apr 2016
i know why the caged bird sings
black elk speaks
god is red
ages in chaos
the Mayan code
not for innocent ears
one flew over the cuckoo’s nest
Ishmael
Harlem gallery
mother earth spirituality
unfinished tales
midnight song
I heard the owl call my name
alkalize or die
mushrooms
kombucha
leaves of grass
turn
deadspeak
conversations with god
dancing the dream
1984
crystal bible
the foxfire book
reflexology
ceremonies of the living spirit
the source
365 days of the red road
daybreak
Earthwise
It’s a meaningful life
the writer’s handbook
2015 poet’s market
on the road
fear and loathing in Los Vegas
Indian spirit
the eagle and the rose
behind bars
zoo story
the shadow that scares me
in red man’s land
rainbow tribe
man and superman
atlas shrugged
The Celestine Prophecy
Lame Deer, seeker of visions –
poetry month prompt 10

all book titles currently on my shelves

........if I gave a **** (which I sort of do) this would bother me **see bio
but the art, man, the art

a lil on the inside for those in the know
:)
brandon nagley May 2015
Antrorse are these two stretched hands! Parched unto the atmosphere, colorful stratosphere dimmed, yet not darkened yet!
Burgonet feelings are quite openly. Outspokingly disgraceful. Some wear marvels, others turned disgraceful.. How distasteful!!!
Burlap past times and I'm still knitted in, wherein memories are the remembrance of a past who maketh thou to be thou. Buskin druid....
Flustering is soo highly overtaken, for thine innards goes outdated, as prayers are daily struggles. Mixed and ruffled, as the freckles to ones current displace..
Foxfire flame can be seen in hidden oaks, wherein thou art clogged by forest smoke, yet/ made by thine own destructions... Rich haveth luncheons, as schooltime sells cheap embargo's!!!renew tomorrow!!!!
Icterus slumbering dots have taken the whole!!!while t.v rots thy soul, the news comes day in day out!!! All the same but worse!!!!battle dispersed!!!
Indign I am to past the pearly gates! For to early or to late, its better to make it in than not!!!!!
Gabby Apr 2019
Deep in the forest, through the leaves, and under the moss covered trees, is a whole new world full of life, light, love, and mystery. They try to hide it from you though. They don't want others to find out what hides under the tree roots. It's their lovely little secret that they must protect at all costs. I see why they would want to hide it. It is beautiful. There is no fear, and the only tears are from too much laughter. Flowers bloom all year, and the rivers are crystal clear. The mystery lies in how? How does all this exist deep within the earth? How does one get to such a place? Well, I'll tell you. You just have to keep it a secret. They love their secrets. First, you have to go into the forest, but don't bring anything with you. Only yourself, and yourself only. Once in the forest, listen. The birds will lead the way. Hum along to their songs. That's how you gain their trust. Trust is the important part. Without trust, you will gain no secrets. Secrets are the key to a world built by secrets. The more secrets you learn by the bird's song, the better. Follow the birds through the forest until you reach the stream. You'll know the stream when you get there. It trickles on and is dark enough that you can see the bottom. Trying to wade through the stream is not wise. You'll most likely drown. There should be a rock in the middle of the stream. Jump, and hope you don't slip. It is good that you cannot see the bottom. Try to make it to the rock and then to the other side of the stream in one fluid motion. Don't stop on the rock. Once on the other side, you will no longer hear the birds, for you have learned all you can from them. Keep going forward. Soon you shall see bits of crimson fur popping in and out of the bushes. Stop. Hum the songs you learned from the birds and wait for Red to reveal himself to you. If twenty beats pass you by with no Red, turn back and go home. Fast. You don't want them to catch you lingering. However, if Red does show himself, bow, and bow deeply. With courtesy of course. It is a great honor should Red show himself. There is no mistaking Red. You feel it heavy within your gut, and tingling in your toes. Follow him as he turns to leave. If you let him out of sight, turn back home. And go swiftly and silently. If they hear you, you are as good as gone. If you manage to stay with him, he will lead you to an ancient willow tree, its branches reaching far and wide. You are almost there. To the world in which you seek. Now you must tie a piece of yourself to the Great Willow. A piece of clothing. Hair. A breath. But the Great Willow must accept you first. Walk up to the base of the tree, carefully, watch your step. Lay your hand gently on the cool rough bark. If pain flickers through your hand, back away slowly. Red will lead you back to the stream. Thank him generously for the safety he grants in doing so. If there is a warm tingling sensation that flows through your hand and into your body, congratulations, the Great Willow accepts you. Take three steps back. If you are wearing shoes, discard them so your bare feet are in contact with the lush moss that covers the forest floor. The ground will rumble, do not fear. It is just the Great Willow unearthing her roots to give you access to the world below. Thank Her as you pass below her roots down into the cool damp earth. The darkness will not last long. Your path will soon be lit up with foxfire and ghosts. A green hue that casts long shadows as you wander down the soft dirt path. A door of moss and bark will be at its end. The key lies deep. Reach for it and it will find you. Once you have the key, the door will open before you.  Congratulations. You made it to the world full of life, light, love, and mystery. Walk carefully. The roots breathe beneath the earth here.

— The End —