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Saint Audrey Jul 2018
Casualty: my interest fading
Once waxing moon now seen waning
And I did concede your irksome warning
And watched as the rest played out

So let bygones be gone, fallen out by the side
Of this road, worn down, still restless, keeping straight
Eyes glinting off token little bits of hospitality
Mother nature being so inclined at times

The stress so unnerving, I hardly doubt it
But tension is eased once it comes to acceptance
And I accept in full, finding time to unwind
Winding stretch of lonely road, dotted here and there by
An occasional landmark
Or a lonely tractor pulling behind it
Iron bars, old and rusted
Found in their hold
Bales of hay or
A small little pond
With a bench beside it
Holding initials carved against the grain

With a heart surrounding

As mine beats slower

At last, the sun begins going down

And the moon grows brighter
Even in its state
And my feet move faster
Though my body is withering
I feel this separation growing
As my mind takes flight and leaves me

Behind, in the twisting twilight
And alone, I walk along
A W Bullen Mar 2017
Cold stoles the coast in geisha voiles
of pawned Atlantic mourning, where

The plangent skirl of larids
carry through the vast exquisite
plains of February emptiness.

Aloft on coronal ruin, she flew
in free form falling, between the spheres
she grew in brightness, and by her ******,
the moping shale, appeared , as if transformed.

She blessed the face of stained glass saints
hung loud on hallowed walls, From a
palisade of glinting brinks, she
hauled deserted chapels into
parishes of lambent wake
their majesties , reborn.
Tom Spencer Jul 2018
standing behind
a wall of reflections

gazing into a canyon
of steel and glass

movement
from the opposite wall

a curtain sways
and a silhouette turns

from the glinting
and the figure

standing
in the polished glare

Tom Spencer © 2018
Grace Aug 2015
Confines/Coffins
By Grace Espinoza

Trapped in the confines
Or the coffins
Of beautiful dark minds
Obscuring our view
A constant filter
To the sunshine

I dream to press that
Sunshine into concrete bones
Enlighten you
To the gold already glinting in those bones

I think love can travel an ocean
I know mine can stretch a state
It could travel the world
If you were the end destination

Let that sink in
Settle behind warm skin
Never lose sight
Of your golden bones
For you are the sunshine in my life
BECAUSE YOU MATTER
Grace Jul 2018
I walk into the mirror box again and it’s as if my life
really is just an extension of my own metaphors.
I’m caught in the mirror maze, searching for something
in the mirrors at angles, but all I can see is myself,
my sad, ****** self, stretching on and on forever
with the same boring face, the same boring feelings,
again and again until I stop being able to make out the details.
Am I looking back at myself or am I looking forwards to the future?
Will it always be the same or has it merely been
the same since forever? I stare into the mirror tunnel
at all these selves repeating themselves,
forcing the years, the weeks, the days into the same strict patterns,
merely following the self that came before them, merely mirroring
the feelings, only doing it worse and worse with each new rendition.
It’s just me, I think, in the mirror box, caught up in myself
because I am selfish and horrible.
I’m selfish and horrible
and I want to turn my back on myself but
how can I possibly do that in the mirror box?
I meet myself over and over, and it’s just me,
in all this vast, repetitive vagueness, just me in
this long stretch of lonely unsettledness that surely doesn’t end.
I want to smash my own face in, so I close my eyes
and try to think, maybe, maybe, maybe, because I don’t
want to be this grey-cloud self forever. I can’t be, and so maybe,
just maybe, somewhere beyond all these selves
there’ll be a day when I’m down on the shore
and the sea will be calm and the sky will be
faded purple. Love will not sink down into nothingness
because in the cool evening air,  my heart will be full
instead of gaping and my mind will be at ease
instead dwelling on it’s own boringness
or entangling itself in own self-created sadness.
And maybe, I’ll have abandoned my book
and its pages will be dry because I won’t have been crying into it.
They’ll be no mirrors, just the ocean,
glinting like an amethyst cluster in the half light
and I’ll rest my head on the shoulder of the girlfriend
I'll meet someday and I’ll smile in this beautiful liminal moment
and nothing will be tainted by the dread of returning home.
We’ll kiss – on the shore – and rewrite it forever and
maybe the stars will fall out of the sky when I shake it and
all my trains will run on time and all the wounds
in the world will heal simultaneously.
It’s a moment surely stolen from someone else’s poetry,
but I’ve got to cling to something to avoid becoming
lost entirely in all this dark, intangible vagueness.
There’s got to be at least one imaginary moment
that isn’t just me, reflected over and over.
There’s got to be one moment that doesn’t stare
back at me from inside the mirror box.
here's another poem the same as all my others, just more mirrors and me, me, me but this time, there's some ******, happy fantasy about a shore that will surely never happen :) might delete it, probably won't. anyway, thanks for reading - it means a lot :)
zebra Nov 2017
i feel like talking tonight
reciting poetry to your big blue eyes
and raw pink mouth smiling
high as a wind whipped kite
discussing
art, ontology, and existentialism
sitting like lotus
at the
Cafe Figaro on McDougall st
in the west village
the  belly of a ghost
lost in a vagrant memory

afterwards
we go to a
little one bedroom flat in the east village
haunted by the vapors of history
a slight stench of ****
and dingo tongue
dripping toilet
all peeling walls
intimating births, cheer and squalor

after a hot bath
of lathered torsos
we would follow each other *****
winding around a table
into a swaying bed
that beckoned
**** here my darlings

and i licked and drank out of your drenched
rose red blossom for hours
it licking back
I salvaged my soul between your thighs
like a wounded dog whimpering
thanking God with every graze and ******
of your all supple shifting limbs
and
your company
your company
your sweet droplets
of company

a summer balm

we looked in the mirror
reflecting on my secreted glistening face
all red raspberry
lips emerald hydras
laughing our ***** off at how artsy i looked
smeared
with your blood painted thighs
appearing as if half eaten

and you growled swallowed  and
licked big butter stick piggy
till your nose ran like the Ganges
gagging
eyes bloodshot pools of fire
cooing and oowing
driving me maniacal
with every ****** of your wild glinting tongue

we poured our selves into each other
viscous creels gushing
coursing like tidal waving lava  
radiating

and finally used to the marrow
we found ourselves drooping
our eyelids  leaden

the night mist fell upon us like breezing shade
and we drowsed
in careless embrace
our *** shriveled
like cast-off umbilici
and we fell to sleep
steep steep
floating
like two buttermilk clouds
adrift

your company
your company
your sweet droplets
of company

a summer balm
*** *** ***  love memory fiction nostalgia
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
I was lost in my resistance to the happiness of life,
Living in my small cocoon of safe,
Taking my emotion from the love on the waves
Until you came and woke me to be free.

Too great to imagine I’d almost missed the ring
Brass turned gold glinting in my eye,
I can see now truly for the first time in my life
Without the shroud of black that blinding me.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
ryn Sep 2014
Light train chugging, working to outrun
Over exerting, pulling along your freight
Sand is running out under the diminishing sun
Fastidiously you tug on your enormous weight

Segmented equal in seven hulking proportions
Weaving between sleeping rocky giants
Assertion in your drive gifted from the high heavens
Borne of light your cargo load of tenants

Silver blurred rays glinting back as reply
As you power your way through
Defying seconds, before the last rays should die
Against odds, delivering what is due

Questing to alleviate my inflicted darkness
Spear of brilliance slicing through my mind
Illuminating the farthest and tiniest of crevices
Nook and crannies that willed me blind

Careful manoeuvring to keep your balance
Through scenic views fraught with treachery
Furiously working to keep your cadence
Hopeful of unloading the load you carry

What lies dormant in that cargo of yours?
What sleeps easy within those boxcars?
What stokes the fire to diligently run your course?
What promises you bear, travelling near and far?

Bales of hope and crates of strength
Supplies of kindness and self-worth
Reside within your immense length
Intact and lay quiet within your formidable girth

Reliant on the light that fuels and feeds
Your axles seem tireless guiding forth those wheels
Thundering over land with the power of a thousand steeds
Armed to your teeth with alloys and steels

Expelling grit and dirt as you pummelled across
Grey-white fumes, shoot up to the sky
Flag flogged by wind, billow and toss
Blaring your whistle as you race on by

Propelling forward, horizon up ahead
There it is...in all its tenebrous glory
Darkened locomotive seething mad with dread
Brace for the clash and the loads the two carry
See "Doom Train"
See "Collision Course"
Outside Words Sep 2018
I was awoken from a dreamless sleep
     By a boy with short brown hair,
     Who, with an urgent stare,
Told me to head to the showers!

As my eyes creaked open to recognize,
     The orange glow of this unfamiliar room’s lighting,
     In front of me, in handwritten writing,
A page on the wall showed three in the morning.

When I glanced around a room of shared bunks,
     I saw all sorts of people and things,
     Running around with things to bring
To these showers I had yet to see.

In a winding line down a high ceiling’d hall,
     I stood with so many,
     Who like me, hadn’t any
Idea what was going on.

With a whirlwind flurry of commotion
     Steam crawled from the showers and water sprayed,
     As we were told in a big disarray,
To wash off the place from whence we came.

In a neat little stack, I was handed my clothes
     A tunic, with a sash
     And a captivating mask
To “celebrate our exciting return home.”

Down dark rustic stairways, I watched like a child
     The vibrant light and affinity,
     Radiating with enchanting divinity,
From the otherworldly people and creatures below.

Through that noisy, jolly crowd,
     We were led as a group
     And the boy said with a whoop
That we were all to stand up and dance.

His eyes glinting with excitement,
     The brown haired boy explained
     That our spirits would be ordained
Through a celebration of our inner light.

Onto the stage I was led
     As I stood with my class,
     Nervous amongst the mass
Of silent, numerous spirits before us.

As the boy hit the music
     I felt something from deep inside
     Rush out like a tide
And through tears of joy, I danced.

It was at that gleeful moment
     That my friends and I,
     Realizing we'd died,
Knew we'd returned to the forest.
© Outside Words
Donall Dempsey Apr 2018
LET SLEEPING PTERODACTYLS LIE


Rusted scythe
perched on a nail


high up on a wall
a sleeping pterodactyl.


I can't stop myself touching
it to see if it is - real.

Smacks its lips
laps up my blood


from my foolish fingertip
deceived by shadows.


It's grin glinting
the smile come alive.


The ghost of a horse
whinnies in the stable


that's gone long gone
the then merging into the now.


Or maybe Mr. Death
too tired to go on

hangs up the instrument of his trade
time to retire the old bones.

“No way to make a living!”

I back slowly away
blinded by the sunlight

that screams. . ."Run!"
Chris Neilson Aug 2018
light of a fresh dawn
giving birth to a new day

light of many shades glinting
its spectrum of rainbow delight

light of a brilliant midday sky
casting minimalist shadows

light of an afternoon afterthought
of sun filled days like these

light of an early evening
filling a room of memories

light fading to dusk and black
dying a less ordinary day

light of my life filling my night
with warmth to my soft caress
Thinking about light in all its guises
The bear broke out the bear trap, and screamed into the air, that the very man that set the trap that had imprisoned him there, had better find a hiding place, somewhere only he can go, to escape the fall of every gaze, every crystal drop of snow, because now he has an enemy who is red behind his eyes, an enemy who will not rest until gazing on his demise...

Kanza caught the biggest fish anyone had ever seen, they say he speared it from the bank when he saw it glinting green, without his artistry and skill the village would be doomed, once their thirst became too much, their last hopes consumed, but everyday there was a banquet, such was his expertise, that anything that took a breath in the forest could be seized, be it bird or beast or wild cat, weasel, fox or hare, Kanza even told the children that one day he'd catch a bear...

The bear withdrew into the darkness, under a canopy of pine, he knew that it was true that if he could just bide his time, eventually a man would come to check that awful snare, then before he could take a breath, his life would end right there, because no living creature from the mountains to the plains, deserves to live out their last in tortured, searing pain. Seconds turned to minutes, turned to hours, turned to days, but the bear, unblinking in the dark, never once broke his gaze, until one misty morning, still glaring at the trap, somewhere through the misty trees, he heard a twig go...SNAP!

Kanza knew all too well how big a mistake he'd made, now upon his back ,a million eyes, he'd meant to evade, but little did he know the kind of danger he was in, because now, flying through the air, was something much bigger than him, a creature so incredibly fast, as to leave nowhere to run, a demon,  a spectre, of ancient past, all his nightmares rolled into one.

The bear broke forth like holy ****, his roar shook the air, his razor sharp teeth and diamond claws ,in flesh, began to tear, Kanza ******* hold in his scream, as all around turned red, he knew he only had a few moments left, before he would be dead. The bear ploughed into the undergrowth, uprooting two small trees, then quickly spun to stare at his foe, who dropped down to his knees.

And there they sat, each one staring at the other and each one learning, understanding, what it is to suffer, Kanza knew his wounds would soon have him feeling dazed, the bear had been wounded by the trap, then hadn't eaten or slept in days.

"I'm sorry", Kanza said, the words surprising even him, as a line of crimson blood ran from his ear down to his chin, then he felt the darkness, and the ground around went black, Kanza fell forward to the ground, the eyes in his head rolled back...

When he awoke, he saw his reflection inside two huge black eyes, his instincts whispered for him not to move, something he didn't think too unwise, the bear stared into him as if it was reading his every thought, there was no escape left, no way of not being caught, after what felt like an age of the world had passed, the bear withdrew into the darkness, gazing until the last, Kanza turned to see that beside him was his mangled snare, never again in his life did he try to trap a bear.
mariamme Jun 2018
i danced with your heart in my hands last night
the pulse of beating blood in our veins
drowning out the distance between our bodies
and i loved you in the stillness
in the shift from song to next song
in shift from love to **** to love again
my teeth glinting against the harsh sparks
we've turned up our bassline and
i doubt i will ever be satisfied like this again
your eyes became twin suns against me
burning me alive in the heat, mingled
mangled inhibitions lying with our clothes
and ferocity lies in wait behind your smiles
wolflike and hungry for the bisous, & more
that only we can bring to life in the darkness
between the slick of my thighs, phantasmic
in the starry stealing of moments under canopies
of wavelike sound; and nothing else mattered
but that your heart kept beating in tune
& my feet kept pounding the fear down into dust.
falling generally is a frightening thing; however, i think fear is delicious under certain conditions, when consensual and with a friend. in this case, perhaps a little deeper than friendship. pour mon roi, yet again.
the songs that bred this beast:
happy days - ghali
basic space - the **
daddy issues - the neighbourhood
suicoke - wesson ft. jagonte
rental - brockhampton
will he (medasin redo) - joji
mushaboom - *****

also inspired in part by medusa, don't ask why, i don't even know. it is 1:13 am after all :)
Arianna Nov 2018
You gleam Caribbean bright,
whispering melancholy in the watercolor essence
of your blue-green havens
diffused in unison
with the silver-scaled Ocean.

Sunlight and Water in fusion
i watch from the shore,
reflections dancing
along the rippling spine of your Oneness:

Elements

Light and Air
Shadow and Water
Green, Blue, and Yellow

merge Turquoise

as i venture closer into the waves.

Turquoise
satin cohesion
playing its tongue over the ivory of my skin,
coiling sun-warmed and serpentine 'round my limbs,
across hips and shoulders
nestled against your warm quintessence,
weaving between fingers.

Turquoise
filling my palm,
feeling its gold-glinting calm
seep cool into my veins ⸺
swirling
snaking
wine-dark harmonies
of Blue-Green Sunlight and blood ⸺
and i watch mesmerized
as the twinkling scales of your energy
scatter,
lapped up by healing tongues of tidal waves,

falling away

becoming Flesh.
For one with eyes as piercing as a reptile's, the gentle aura of a songbird, and a beautiful gift for seeing the world in color.
Donall Dempsey Dec 2018
AND THE WORLD WAS AS SIMPLE AS SNOW

You are like. .  .all
the dark shops of my childhood
where you enter with the little ****** of a bell

and the world blossoms

into a myriad of things colourful to sell
stacked in impossible & impeccable order

all yelling shining glinting wild & glassy

and the cash register singing with the hard earned money
and the little ****** of a bell lets you out again

into a world
excited with the falling of  snow

& the palpable approach
of  a Christmas when Christmas was Christmas

and the world
was as simple as snow.
Abraham Avalos Aug 2018
Guarded yet free, I am hard to know
Confident yet sensitive, I'm both high & low
Compassionate yet hardhearted, a contradictable male
Humble yet arrogant, disrespect me & I'll unleash ****
Impossible to understand yet so full of glee
Inside my heart hide both peace & plea
Easy to talk to yet hard to catch by
A glinting gem yet still feeling shy
Nervous & nimble, curious & controlled
Taking many risk, living life bold
Intuitive but careless, life is my game
I hold an intellect that is to quick to exclaim
Keep it one hundred I don't like to hear lies
Hey my names Abraham & Im a Gemini  

                                                     - Abraham Avalos
cr Mar 25
standing in front of the pacific
sea salt hair, frothy finger scooping
water back into the sea
gulls hungry desperate endangered
if not for stranger's crisps
clawed baby *****
pincers at the ready
crushed by babies human
shell fractured by skin
hands held together by other hands
threaded together like a lifeline
families laugh, dolphin-like chortles
over nothing
at all
and sons and daughters
forgo their differences, chuck them
into waves with grey shore rocks, protect
their towels and castles and bodies
with sand moats, a starfish
plunked dead center
far away from home
iridescent sea shells collected
as jewels, worn around pretty
bruised necks of housewives
content in their one-day
ocean excursion turned revolution
solitude as i watch
and sit and think and think and
feel and watch some more
eyes like those saccharine
candy floss treats, cloying to
tongues and fingertips, alone
in another universe i am
with a family
tossing our children into ocean waves
dunking ourselves into the deep
collecting glinting shells for
our jewelry, breaking them
as they are shoved into plastic bags
but today
in this universe
i am the crab
crushed by skin
and flesh
and bone
a soulless thing
careful to observe, cautious, fleeting
miniscule
to be fed upon, ******
dry by trauma,
licked off the fingers of
would-have-been acquaintances
a carcass of longing
for moremoremore

yet never quite certain
how to crawl towards it
lest i be
stomped upon
again

so i sit on the beach
inhale saltwater and laughter and affection
through my skin
and make friends with sea creatures
as lonely as i am
as insignificant
as me
i had to write this as a prompt for a creative writing class and u know what. it's going on here. bc fine !!
Michael John Nov 2018
(the more knowledge
gleaned
the less instinct
weaned)

once witches
small perhaps
eccentric somewhat
and followed
by thrush
sang
spied by curious
mice
sat on by old
ticks
munched the
fly agaric
and roamed
the nightly forest..

or flew into
great red skies
howling through
storming cries
screaming to fell
or styled vertical
with  two
black tusks
glinting
to caste hex
upon foe
and scatter the dead
to  perform abomination
with here little cat
perched behind
skull and moon
bat and croon
o the wind wild
o ancient chile
evil prays so
the great eye
the **** crow
the spite
and soon
o baal
sired the morn..
the hazy moon dipped into silver
the glinting stars sank into gold,
and it was as if you were plucked from the pool of darkness
and plunged into the face of the earth

the constellations on your celestial body
the supernova glow of your being
is the starlight everyone needs
day 13 - celestial bodies

this one is dedicated to my baby niece.
Donall Dempsey Sep 2018
BAREFOOT

I follow the road
of my father’s voice

journey with him
along white roads...over green fields

barefoot
to school & back

(shoes if at all...worn only to church)

picking up the cuts & scabs
stubbed toes

his going to school
would entail

in the early years of the 1920’s
only so much history to me

real
to him

his toes
knowing the wind
in the grass

for what it is

his toes
clasping a rock
fording a stream

Irish & poems
bubbling through his head

babbling along
the tongue

words thrown to
those lost summer skies

startling a blackbird
spouting his poetry

with poetry
of his own

(3 miles to school...3 miles back)

his mind a skimmed stone
dancing along a river

over unforgiving
stones

thorns attacking his feet
with undisguised relish

the vehemence of glass
glinting greedily

for the next footstep

the menace
of the twisted rusty nail

& its treachery
betraying the next footfall

as he walks over
the unremitting years

into my eyes
wide with wonder

listening to him
tell of himself

as a little boy

to his little boy
the me of then

my eyes now

following the road
of my father’s voice

as it wanders
barefoot
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