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Explain to me,
mother,
why it is that
I can breathe
easier with his hole in my chest?

It is about
time
that I realize
I've done this
to
myself.

It is about
time
that I realize
I
should give up.

The waves crash against my thighs.
The waves crash against my pelvis.
The waves crash against my stomach.
The waves crash against my chest.
H
hA
haR
harD
hardE
hardeR
softeR
softE
sofT
soF
sO
so what? so what if I drown?

Let the reaper eat my stomach contents.
Let Him drink my spinal fluid;
let it trickle down his fleshless chin.

Recycle my eyes so that I may
see.
Recycle my heart so that I may
smile.
Recycle my brain so that I may

forget.

Nothing's funny when you're bleeding.
st64 Dec 2013
crackle.. crackle..
flicker-flicker
auburn-licks in tiny-spits
roast a pail on terra firma
then ask.. how steady ground-nutmeg falls in drizzles of mercurial-flow



1.
school girl gets pulled off her books
sorry, gypsy-girl.. but *you no welcome here

   free-style don't cut it here
we give you cash to make like a cow
and go home
surprise as youth stand up against old-guns
then folk get called names and puppets turn ugly
as terms like demografix get flung
like a band-aid over an open-wound

when diva is denied a croc
out of the blue.. plop!
three apples fall to the ground
and cheap bar-lines seem catchy
but get raucous laughter echoing from hay-strewn tree-top rafters
mocking-tirades.. lazy-suitor, hard-recruiter

women wearing missiles on their faces
induce a fear like no man has seen
earth-quaking in boots of unreasonable-fear
near ponds of web-toed frog-giveness
catching the sing of plastic-ridged bullets in eternal-flight


2.
you can work your crafty-*** off
and still be without water or a roof

teabaggers get tagged
and innocence is frisked
while a good man dies
and the world mourns
very few know the real-hardship  
of those soldiers
who served duty-bound years
yet swallow anguish for long whiles after

now learning comes fettered
with resistant-glass to ward off
ricochets of unwanted-strays
and tax is almost everyone's burden
interest defeats pure-growth
as indigent-footsteps keep crawling
while high-flyers keep raking it in.....
on the backs of hoi-polloi

bursaries offer step-up to some
but so many fall along the side
thanks to the malice of profiling
as your mail is leaked to bots and ads
another gun-shot goes off..
and affluenza gets you a cosier cell
as the lesson is sad-skipped
and rats keep lining 'em pockets with fewer parolees
so, who will really bat an eye-flip
when a judge breaks the law?


3.
so correct
it's all rather crazy upside-umop
adolescent-boy remains adamant against expectations
will not cede a kidney
to his father's burst one
drink, daddy.. yes, drink some more!




stoke the embers to keep lit
that which begs life







S T, 15 dec 13
oh, how 'enlightening' the news, at times
oft, I take a deliberate break from news-reads
just to ease the over-raked eye.. a tad :)
.......to.. to.. to style in some harmony in rare muse-curls
even by a full or half-day later

something I read, though.. a touch positive
not to wait for leaders to emerge to effect change.. but to be part of that.. be it.
prends la parole!



sub-entry: hello poetry

hello, poetry
good-bye, doldrums

or is it.. see ya later?
ha!
Katie Robinson Jun 2014
how don’t know to get the you in: a dis(miss)ing of anchorage, akin to ungrabable, purpled sky, and blackvelvet’s talks to morning sand. to get the you in: a table top of no greed. legs of giveness. to haiku the hell out of.



we are in the process of stunned voices praying to pregnant earth: word fruit meets wet tongue. prophet with no pockets up sand up. in a world that is to know what your sun exuding sounds like.



sweet loathing, singing cell. undernourished, remembering only two tons of. bites down boldly onto wear. ritualistic sweating betrothed to thecosmos. shake loose my skin. legs of giveness, and something that wouldn’t be about you.



or something about you that wouldn’t be. hiding in the corners of language that mask gaping unrelatables. Unrelenting maybeoneday. i’ll decide to hear you (sh)out. the italics of Monday evenings.  



Black tea, bumps head into mosquito bites on your thighs. oops, sorry, can i hug you? sorry. So from here we can deduce thetruth that oops, can i hug you? sorry its obvious, tied. eyed our lives in one swoop and now i’ll never possess of a series of creeks,



primordial. Like when the earth’s virginity was lost to the last respiris of a first dying. you as a plethora of suntan lotion3. but lotion is lotion, like the sea, it cant be quantified or split up into in order to be a “plethora,”



and still there’s no one to rub down my back places  my black places I can’t reach or see and so can’t mimic like a leglessness, a series of syllables.
dennis gunsteen Nov 2010
the prophet speak
you my people,
my flower of life
you have a voice.
stop the fighting
share the love of peace.
help the sick an poor.
as then prophet said
i hear cry in my,
endless dreams.
the prophet said.
be brave my flower
of life.
walk with trueness
peace in
your hearts.
pray  sick an poor.
ask are god for giveness.
pray for the world an
brother sister of this world.
share the love of peace.
stop the fighting.
help one another in this world.
walk peace in your hearts.
many blessing my brother my sister.
walk with peace
walk with true
share the love of peace.
Seher Seven Dec 2016
2017 brings the energy of the 10.
The energy that birthed me.
That in and out weave.
This new cycle bends the laws of the 10.

This power surges within.
An awareness of creation
That speaks from my soul.
The layers here are often misunderstood,
The 1 and the 0 whisper softly.
They interplay, the wombs receive.
They create time again.
Tentative aligned with another number.
Intention rests in the 10.

With this round I plan to write it
All out.
Commit to getting them all out.
Releasing my I upon you all.
Feeling no time to stall,
Moments in need of definition,
Times call.
It's just so loud.

I wondered for years would I tune in.
My quest has been found.
This truth is the point of vision
From here.
Nothing sound to question now.
Darker notes lightened,
Time feels well spent,
Days empowered to crown.
Days given, with gratitude.
Knees spent for the courage of
The opposed foes. The moments of lows.
Thanks be given to the brave souls
That answer those calls.
Though, they too rise.

And I ask for giveness from you,
To give me the grace I need to affect you.
It's my truth too.
Our divine dance.
At last! The words break through.
I chose to heal seeps into the realm.
Infects the system.
These words must come out.
Release them.
John Destalo Feb 2019
the gathering
of angels

white robes
chanting

the wind sings
hymns

the light has
a voice
evoking
verses

hands lift
hypnotically

and we all repeat
after

I feel the weight
pressing down on me

it feels like
a snake is
searching for my
breath

I feel
tight inside
like my skin
is shrinking

like I am being
wrapped
in plastic

they tell me salvation
is a moment

they tell me salvation
is a series of words

and I pray
the series of words
in silence

asking for
giveness

and after
we all smile
as if one mouth

wanting to be right
wanting to be liked
wanting to belong

— The End —