"haloes" poems
a memory
yes
but after
yes
atomic foreskins
pink and fresh
yes
but no
no dream rocoque
no krupp haloes
no religious artifacts
made of lampshade skin
beneath
a million kilowatt moon
no anticipating geometry
the smell of soap
nor calling into question
human sexuality
without flesh
nor the vibration of blood
that angry lobe
hammering overhead
that echo bite
again
and again
clenched
no teeth
no Hiroshima
no again again
black graveyard womb
milk-glass lit
bandaged echo
**** him **** them
familiar bell music
**** them all (with)
2.9k
I'm always falling for girls who are arrows shot through the hearts of prodigal sons.
You've been in my head for days.
I've been clinging to your later
Like a shipwrecked sailor
Clings to the shattered bow
As the ocean tries to swallow him whole.
You swallowed me whole,
And you barely even opened your mouth;
Just wide enough for me to taste honey
And see stars that have been three nights creating haloes around my drunken head.
But you'll only hold my hand in the shadows;
You'll only ask me how I am if you know the answer will be
I'm fine
not
I've got you under my skin
But you're under it, girl.
You're seven layers deep,
And suddenly you're rushing through my bloodstream
And filling my body with a five-dime dream
That is only of your face.
Everyone knows that web of red veins
All lead back to the heart.
So I'm putting up fences
But leaving gaps between the posts
So when you’ve circulated my system
and I can feel you tingling electricity in every one of my cells
It’ll look like the bars I’ve put up were to keep you out
But really the space between was to let you in.
I’ll be shining a light so bright that maybe you’ll grow powdered wings
and flutter towards me like a moth who can’t ignore the flame for even one more second.
You’re more like a butterfly though.
When I look at you I see every colour;
I see grace and beauty, and in your voice I hear a melody so sweet it makes me wonder
whether you’re a girl,
Or if maybe you’re a songbird.
Maybe you build a new nest every night
From twigs and feathers and broken hearts.
You showed me a cutting of your old boyfriend’s hair
That you keep in your wallet
Because you dream of recreating him.
I thought if I knew how I’d make an army of this boy for you,
I’d carve his face from limestone
And give him blossoms for eyes
But I’d give him my lips,
So that when you kissed him I’d taste you.
And it’s not like I’d make you,
But inside my head we’re every day making each other laugh;
We’re every day running through dappled fields,
Calling each other’s names,
Smelling each other’s hair.
It’s the sweetest thing.
That’s all I really want to say
Is that you make me smile and dream,
And sometimes I’m looking at your face
For just a bit longer than you’re looking at mine,
And in the half-light I think,
Isn’t she beautiful.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 3:07 AM UTC
***"To all the fallen Kids, Heroes and Sheroes that fell victim to the massacre of June 16 1960, Sharpeville, Soweto…
Callings for new Seeds and Haloes, we pray for new Victors and Messiahs…coz still we ask “So where to?”***
Worthy knowledge deserves the one who will acknowledge, it found another, he was in shortage, threatened, he found joy in carnage.
Retaliation turned sour, as we shed tears for fallen heroes. Rest in peace to all the Petersens, the Malcolms and the Bikos.
Great minds edify and think beyond limits and sky.
This systematic routine of life laced with politics and economy infiltrates us numb, living in a liberated space and yet at times feeling so dumb.
To equip oneself with the truth, the past, broadens the mind with a quality that will seize to last.
A continent, must be God’s definition of art, beautifully authentic ancient dark civilization…envy must’ve burned the heart.
Propaganda made victims, a disease intended to chronic; now all that’s seen is reversed conscious, invincible and sonic.
Pride is you, continent, head up, chest up, we becoming confident. Mother of the soil shining naturally yet shining somewhat redundancy.
Reconciliation over retribution, an astounding virtue, still forging a social democracy.
Peace will be hard to find in this pandemonium world.
True healing comes from divine providence, I was told.
Male and female, human beings, we need to perceive each other like nature, true identity knows no stranger.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
I am intertwined
between laughter and sorrows,
miserable smiles
a tear running down
that my naïve cheeks don't feel;
Ignorance is bliss
Need a legion of
angelic conquistadors
to bear me away
on beds of roses,
allow thorns to pierce my skin
drag haloes in mud
in the remembrance
of a tainted innocence
willingly given
and a heart broken
many unbearable times,
but now its open...
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC
Remember that one time when I asked you if you remembered what happened way back when?
I forget what your answer was then,
but I remember how much it meant to me to be reminiscing with the Queen of Forgetting.
Remember when you used to care about memories?
And we went careening down streets while screaming in a mix of anxiety and exhilaration.
Each day blending with the next; driving past every chance we had to turn back,
living as if we were on a never-ending vacation.
Remember when you used to have fun? When fun was number one and everything else was boring?
How to Keep Running After Falling Flat on Your Face
And when the Duchess of puking tried to kiss the Archduke of Douches.
Our toes a familiar sight while seeing double.
How we used to recite unrecyclable verses while climbing into the back seats of hearses.
Remember when we used to actually talk about things? No, not like this. I mean, passionately. Remember when we used to get so heated about a topic that we'd practically be screaming at each other?
How To Keep a Straight Face After Scraping What's Left of It off the Pavement
And swinging through trees that we'd climbed against better judgement;
passing under streetlights that painted haloes around our dark heads.
Remember when you used to laugh in a way that didn't sound frantic? When your grin didn't look so much like a grimace?
And going to public places in broad daylight just to read the faces of those who couldn't see beyond their own noses?
How to Focus on Obtaining Goals That You Don't Believe To Be Worth It
And looking at our toes and hitting pavement but then bouncing up again to get caught in the hurricane of everyones' perceptions of what was happening
How to Board Up Your Windows After They're Already Broken
Remember when you used to make genuine human connections with other people?
just to find ourselves in the Eye of the Storm, staring at each other, grinning in a way that isn't frightened or frightening;
Laughing in the way that isn't desperate or forced, but hearing it get warped by the howl of wind surrounding us.
Remember
How to
Wind that's closing in.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC
Paroxysms of the galaxy
Ricochet throughout the universe;
Stars ripple and quake--
Combusting eternally,
Shattering melodically,
Spreading prismatic haloes.
Blindingly, blastingly, beautiful
Is the collapse of creation.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
I turn to
Stone
When I glance at you
I Jump into the sea
To escape your stare
Chill of
Salty waves
Nearly toss me
Like a sand dollar
Floating near the break
I become
Coral in a
Musky
Tide pool
Yet still I turn to you
For guidance
But you're too
Weak in your
Own rite
And you're not
Aware when I need
You the most
So I turn away
And I turn
Inward
Look in
And search for the
Answer but
It's simply not there
Pray to
The universe
Stained glass Jesus
Rotund Buddha
Dark Mother Mary
Demure and strong
And I hear...
Nothing
And the nothing is so
****** quiet
The nothing
Hurts my ears
So I clutch
My head
My hands press it hard
And tight
The headache drums
Demons play games
With my cerebral vortex
My vision narrows to
A pinpoint
Haloes consume the
Small space of
Sight that remains
The boulders I carry
Are too heavy
Lighten my load!
I plead
Before I'm
Dragged down
By the sea siren
She whispers lies
To me
Tells me she will
Carry the boulders
They'll be lighter
At the bottom
Of the sea,
She says
She tempts me
With her promises
Of peace, dark, cool, light
But I know better
If I go with her
It will mean death
And I've died
So many times already
I'm so tired of dying
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 11:20 PM UTC
last night a door opened
it was you calling for me
such a dream light entered
when you appeared so real
and the flames of set arms
lit fire to unlatched breaths
in my silent room with you
like haloes and open wings
so short was our embrace
and time ran out a window
trailing afar in shy moment
i glanced outside and saw
a moon of breathless white
satcheled in sky the noose
pressing down over black
woods and i heard the owl
moaning deep in darkness
suddenly was i half awake
alone forever bereft of love
and the dream light brought
so dearly with your coming
left with you as a door shut.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
haloes of light
reflecting on dew-sewn leaves
like angel's breath
creeping through the eaves
a soft, sweet rug
pencilled in a soft, sweet green
and the ever-changing spectrum
of an ever-changing scene
glance up at the sky,
don't you love the summer?
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 3:37 PM UTC
The temple priest has rung his bell.
A cloud of smoke from candles and lamps
Haloes the Goddess, glowing bright
This beat of drums both maddens and dulls.
The incense burns: so heady the musk,
Our senses flounder in the flood.
This endless chant of sacred words
Soon drugs our lips and stuns our minds.
The Goddess, always staring down:
Her painted pupils cut through smoke
And read the secret thoughts we think.
We somehow feel this within our hearts
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 4:42 AM UTC
Will angels weep I wonder,
When heavenly hosts
March unto battle,
Haloes and spears glinting
In gods eternal light,
Demons fleeing before them,
Fearful of the slaughter,
Sinners felled by axe and sword,
Unrighteous blood streaming
Along gurgling crimson rivers,
Cities laid waste and
No prisoners taken,
As the world is covered
In the darkness of shadows
Wrought from their angel wings,
I wonder, will they weep?
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
you spun silk across the skyline as the frail sun
spilt, onto the far-eastern seaboard, while those
consistent clicks fell resound and washed away
down the drain behind the blanket ran to pitch
as the clamourous small hours from city centre
disband the overcast to stillnesses and grandeur
of emptied haloes, trickling with dust, so i open
my muddied lungs and laugh; for now i know i
have kept fallin' anew all along, if i think i think
i will be alright will i make it through this night?
will it be any better, in the dawn's soft light? i'm
not
afraid
anymore,
though.
we were star-crossed, but for one single moment:
the sky tore wide, and all inside of your ribs, the
constellations swum where once i'd only found
doubt, inside your eyes the lights played
out melodies in time, as
dawn opened up
beneath
us.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 5:21 AM UTC
I
Possesion/extension
Nightly woman instinct,
lend your guiding scent
to fierce winds/
combining
into poison,
deliver down
my mercy to the great shining
(seduction poetics,
unrestrained and visible like a crown
of death hanging proud
by my bedside, eager
to martyr oneself for fertility)
Cosmogonic dawn/blinking fire-wheels,
shallow, holy waters
receding as silken tides, awoke from idleness
Discarded silver haloes, thrown into the hallowed dirt to drench in mortal youth
Monarch eyes/careful
heart, sealed/felt lucidly
worried/cavernous and hidden/wild kingdom dancer
A proclaimed Fool.
Imitator, mutilator
clay creator/for pathless ambition
I sink further in sand
which lacks definition, it is careless
like myself
(take a trip to Angel river, where one longs to be freed from skeleton grins
& pagan bathtubs, pollinating one
with wivesblood)
II
Out of the fog to a
marriagebed & lambs head
mounted, awkwardly
backdropped to an altar of Furze &
disorientation-theatres draped in Neon
& excess
(where even the walls are unaware of their own Earthly position)
If I am the stone,
you are the water, carving
me closer to your desired
shape
to become an Outer, a cloud-catcher, liplurker, destined to Saturn worship
III
My zeal is an impatient grave & you assume the feral mother
whose flashflood voice draws me to rest
..Yet, I am willing. Carry my body
to your domain, feast kindly, until
paradise is all that remains of us both
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 4:41 AM UTC
Light light beings
Sara L Russell, 10/10/16
So if we are light beings, then is the aura a fountain of white
diamond fire reflecting the sun, dancing in the air
in a million drops of exploding starlight from the seventh universe.
If we are light beings, we are beholden to shun the darkness.
Always shun the darkness, for it is full of the shadows of djinn;
those shadow people know your comings and goings,
behold, they are legion, they hunt the starlight children
fly like a moth to the light; since it holds only the luminescence of love.
We are light, we are strong, we are wingbeats of angels,
we are the blameless abiders of law from our leaders,
like a million dancing raindrops, we can weather the maelstroms,
holding the light as a feather; since it is fragile and needs our belief.
And if we are light beings, being lighter than air or arias,
then is the aura like haloes of sunbeams reflected in sea;
only then we are free to ascend in the spirit of freedom,
being the love light and keepers of tranquility.
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC
THE ANGRY WATERS
that recoiled and threatened a tsunami
lie placid now, bacalmed and still
as shiny as a glass topped dining table
THE HOWLING WINDS
that longed to be a hurricane
have settled into zephyrs and soft breezes
that barely riff the petals of the autumn roses
THE RAGING THUNDER
that tried so hard to break the windows
has rolled on and is nothing but a distant echo
that recedes as fast as memories of childbirth pain
THE VICIOUS RAIN
that threatened to go flooding
has slacked off into a gentle winter mist
that wraps the dawning sun in silken haloes
THE VOLCANIC FLAMES
that lept across the sky as lightning
have danced across the hills to other valleys
leaving only ozone to mark where they have been
AND I AM SPARED AND WHOLE
Unwounded and unscarred
Undamaged by their passing
Unscathed in places that should bleed
And safe in who I plan to be
At last the God of Hope
Has noticed me
And offered me
His hand to take
And walk into
Tomorrow.
ljm
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 10:09 AM UTC
One so Young as to inspire Relief
Yet in my Terms he sought to disobey
Which, after all, Authority as brief
Drag those Arid Racers spit for the day
The Ocean warms. One the Spoon cannot stir
Since your Recipe in Past News remit
Harboured by Fortiments made such Themes blur
And braised Emotion to your Benefit
Now the Angel speaks. And speaks on the Rough
Submitting her summed Haloes for your Shield
That, deserving, made Plastic on your Rough
And caused the Tabloids to Honour your Field.
Coward! Take the Rod and hamper my Back
For Manhood you own; And Conscience you lack.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 11:07 AM UTC
I am crashing on the plane we know
but more than love. When truth outside honesty
scorches our skin and scars them
hiding tattoos on the inside. Rings of
hearts and haloes, wings of silver lined. Devils
are toed and grinning deeply.
Rain and acid flecks, they choose whom
are beyond this clasping granular grasp, and I like
this pain which is scratching wounds into my
soul. I know
that is broken to be whole
when I pierce with my tongue holy knowledge.
© 20th April 2013
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 9:44 PM UTC
You were trembling, Job of the prairies---
a supernova born with angel hair optics
gnarled in the sweat of an oil soaked sun;
****** to the soil by nectarless thirst.
Even your stains were bright with haloes;
Dappled like the moon with jewelish fire---
Even your scabs were disjointed lights---
in center of your temple, white like tile.
A quaff of dissention and love laden
As you stood fragile as fruitless skin---
Bent to my presence, a crooked crystal;
All swallowed and refracted, like liquor.
Your cat-eyes were so bitterbright, shadowy
Inconsolably shining enormous fires, dark.
Your blackened opal void melting to nectar
for incestuous parasite lapping it in twain.
I loved you, and your autophagical bones;
A dimming resplendence on a crooked bridge
where they sipped the springtime's deathour---
where I kissed your soul in spring's deathour.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC
One thing I know
There are angels among us
Those who would save us
From the beast of ourselves
Those beings with haloes
And wings on the wind
The ones who would save those
Who can't be alone
The angels that I know
Earning their wings
Speeding to heaven
Riding the wind
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:07 PM UTC
I see dying people on dying sidewalks.
Dying gulls hover by an ambulance full of dying heroes which save you from sooner dying. The ambulance goes past a funeral home where the dying attend to the dead.
I've passed through this sidewalk before, when I and the world were a little less rotten. I've seen the familiar parked mail truck which has a woman inside usually playing scrabble. She's solved more puzzles, and earned less time.
Did you know it costs money to die? Suicide is illegal, the government has decreed you need to earn your own right to die. You need to die in some accident or from disease or ailment or getting too old. You're serving in a conquest against dying yet either way you'll lose!
I realize as I pass a law firm beside a curiosity shop that my soul is losing its light to power our electricity. My eyes are losing their ability just to watch violence on the news,
My hair will soon be snow.
Im getting sleepier earlier, I'm getting older quicker.
The last thing I wanna do is sleep!
I don't want to weep,
I don't want to be reaped.
My faith is lazy,
My heart is crazy,
Padded up in loveless institutions.
Going to the city makes me feel lonely.
There's one wrinkling man I see here every day, he's wearing a big white sweater, bald spot haloes his skull.
Will I be him one day?
Is he an angel of prophecy?
He writes illegible notes on lined paper from an organized folder in his satchel. I have a satchel, it looks just like his. He is my outcome and my shadow. He is my prayer and my nightmare. He is wise and he is lost, I can tell by his face, his frown, his scowl.
He is dying, more than me.
Maybe thats what his notes are about.
I know mine are.
Despite all these years his weight
Remains the same.
I suppose mine will too.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC
This is the story of a box
and a girl.
And this box –
and this box
was like no other box – No,
like no other box that owned its existence.
Eons of history lived on its walls – I mean, moved on its walls,
I mean, carvings of history played out on the walls
Waves smashed their own heads onto ocean floor dunes,
The lightning swung fierce on the clouds into squalls,
The engravings – the caves shook with war, the volcanoes,
They spat and they hissed, and the nymphs in their watery mists
Danced with haloes on graves of the fallen.
The lifeblood, it pulsed through the veins of this box,
Through the veins of my palm as I held it, the carvings,
They danced with their raw, starving ardors, their bloods and their stardust
And lifeblood, it seeped, lotus droplets, it leaped onto grooves of my skin
Splashed as sparks on my skin and spilled into my palms,
Till my body was filled with the life of this box, with the thrums of this box, with the force of this box
Till the sweet little voice called my name through this box
Whispered, “Open the lid and release me. This box
Is my prison. I’ve risen through hellfire and sunlight and war-blood,
And isn’t it time for the earth to revere me? I am Hope,
I am weary; I am tired of Death and Despair huddled near me
I yearn for the taste of the earth and the Furies
Release me, my vassal, unchain me, release me.”
This is the story of a box
and a girl,
and a thrum, and a voice, and a palm, and a life -
and a war, and a choice, and a hope, and a price,
and a voice that implored me to open the lid
through the trembling, quivering walls,
and I did.
Mar 13, 2020
Mar 13, 2020 at 12:33 PM UTC
Give the knots that line my spine
The milky film that clots my eyes
The pride that grips my jaw
To be suspended
Hair blown out in rat-tail haloes
By soft ochre dispersions
To bob, a boat returned
Plunged into the myth of algae
Nymphs that bring dimension to the depths
To be an oil spill clearing canvas
A gliding watercolor rag or
Submerged irradiant water hag
Concealed by a cocoon
The overhang where beads of light
Exaggerate the urban dream
Freed from the stingy binds of gravity
The filthy nihilistic scene above
Just on display way down there
Beneath the ziplocked airless sky
For passers-by to glimpse the paradox
This wilful tragedy of mine
Through a waterlogged trachea
Umbilical cord to godliness stretched
Returned to me mangled and sore
Drowned in the canal of Little Venice.
Nov 26, 2019
Nov 26, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC
When I looked at you I saw the world,
The way you saw the world.
Everything was shaded with the brightest yellows
And the deepest blues,
But all the reds were gone.
Looking away from you
I saw the blinding white haloes around the stars,
I saw the pink laces between different cells of my hands,
I can see the red ball thrown in the field of green.
I just had to look away from you.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC