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life nomadic Jul 2013
A tomboy, naturally barefoot, gingerly walks the white painted line because the asphalt is just too burning hot.  Scrubby tufts of weedy grass are welcome respites on the way, briefly cooling her steps even if they are stickery.  The ***** soles of her now calloused feet were intentionally toughened just before school got out, with mincing steps across the roughest gravel she could find.  Her mother accommodates her preference, leaving a pan of water outside for her to scrub her feet before going in.  Even then, a black path has gradually appeared leading from the front door in the old orangish carpet.  Two months of summer barefoot every day when she had the choice. Keyed roller skates clamped onto last year’s school shoes were the exception.  She can flat out run anywhere.
  
This particular expedition began like every other thing they did, which was anything to fend off boredom.  She had been sitting on a cement step shaded by an open carport, just three oil-stained parking stalls for three small apartments on the tired poor side of town.  There is a little more dirt on the street here, and grass is a little neglected.  Just like the children, but these kids prefer that anyway.  Two scruffy friends stomp on aluminum cans, brothers sporting matching buzz cuts and cut-off shorts.  They are flattening them for the recycling money by the pound, so the carport smells vaguely of stale beer.  Another boy attempts to shoot a wandering fly with a home-made rubber band gun; rings cut from a bicycle tube made the best ammo.  “What do you want to do?” …”I don’t know, what do you want to do?”  Thwack…  The only requisite for friendship here is vicinity, yet it is still true.  The idea of choosing friends is about as odd as the concept that one could chose where one lives... Strengths and shortcomings are completely accepted because it is just what it is.  

Their amazing three-story tree fort with a side look-out had been heartlessly taken down by the disgruntled property owner last week.  Two months of accumulating pilfered and scrap two-by-fours, nails, and even a stack of plywood (gasp!) from area construction sites had yielded supplies for a growing fort.  A gang-plank style entry had crossed the ditch to the first level.  Nailed ladder steps to the second offered a little more vertigo and a prime spot to hurl acorns.  Another ladder up led up to the third floor retreat, with a couch-like seating area and shoulder high walls.  A breeze reached the leaves up there.   The next tree over was the look-out, with nothing but ladder steps all the way up to where the view opened up out of the ravine.  When the wind blew, it gave merciless lessons in facing any fear of heights.  But now that was all over, discovered gone overnight.

Someone says again, “What do you want to do?” …”I don’t know, what do you want to do?”  “ 7-11? ”  Good enough, so they head out.   Distance measures time.  Ten minutes is the end of the street past the cracked basketball court in the church parking lot.  Fifteen minutes and the lawns end at the edge of the sub-division.  Half-built homes rising from bare dirt and scattered foundations could offer treasures of construction scraps, (where she suspects the stack of plywood came from.) but they keep walking.  Twenty minutes is where industry has scraped away nature, and railroad tracks form an elevated levee.  But time is meaningless if there’s a wealth of it, so there’s no going further until an informal ritual is completed.  Wordlessly they each dig around their pockets searching for equal amounts of pennies.  Each of them carefully arrange them lined up on the rounded-surface rail, and they settle in for the wait.  It could be five minutes or it could be thirty.  They all understand it’s a crap-shoot of patience waiting for the next train. It’s an unspoken test; quitting too early means losing your coins to the one who stays, so that’s not an option.

Heat presses down and the breezeless air smells like telephone-pole creosote.  She sits in a dusty patch of shade found next to an overgrown ****.  She knows it tastes like licorice and breaks off a stem to chew, but doesn’t know what it is.  The boys throw rocks randomly until she finally stands up to join in, tempted by the challenge of flight and distance.  Then she stands in the center of the tracks, looking one way then the other, searching for the first random distant glimmer of the engine’s light at the horizon.   A flash, so she places her ear to the metal Indian-style, and the imminent approach is confirmed.  She calls out, “its here!” and double checks her pennies’ alignment.  Heads up or tails, but always aligned so the building might be stretched tall or wide, or Lincoln’s face made broad or thin.  That happened only rarely, since it could only be rolled by one wheel then bounced off.  If it stuck longer, the next wheels would surely smash it into a thin, elliptical, smooth misshapen disc of shiny copper.  Its only value becomes validation of a hint of delinquency, Destroying-Government-Property.  Once she splurged with a quarter, which became smashed to just a gleaming silver, bent wafer discolored at the edge.  Curiosity wasn’t worth 25 cents again though, so she had only one of those in her collection.

The approaching engine silently builds impending size and power, so she dashes back down the rocky embankment to safety because after all, she is not a fool, tempting fate with stupid danger. She knows a couple of those fools, but she finds no thrill from that and is not impressed by them either.  Suddenly the train is here, generating astounding noise and wind, occasional wheels screaming protest on their axels.  She intently watches exactly where she placed her coins, hoping to see the moment they fly off the rails that are rhythmically bending under the weight rolling by.  It becomes another game of patience, with such a long line of cars, and she gives up counting them at 80-ish.  Then suddenly it is done and quickly the noise recedes back to heat and cicadas.  The rails are hot.  Diligently they search for the shiny wafers.  Slowly pacing each wood beam, they could have landed in the gravel, or pressed against the rail, or even lodged straight up against the square black wood yards down the tracks.  They find most of them, give up on the rest, then continue on.

She has thirty cents and at last they reach the afternoon’s destination.  7-11’s parking lot becomes a genuine game of “Lava”, burning blacktop encourages leaps from cooler white lines, to painted tire stops, to grass island oasis, then three hot steps across black lava to the sidewalk, and automatic doors swoosh open to air conditioning.  She rarely has enough money for a coke icey; she is here for the bottom shelf candy, a couple pennies or a nickel each.  Off flavors but sweet enough.  She remembered when her older brother was passing out lunchbags of candy to the neighborhood kids for free, practically littering the cul-de-sac.  She had wondered where he got enough money for all that popularity, or could he have saved that much from trick-or-treat? She wondered until he got busted shoplifting at the grocery store.  The security guard decreed that he was never allowed in there again, forever, and the disgrace of sitting on the curb waiting for the mortified ride home was enough to keep him from doing it again.

Today she picks out a few root beer barrels, some Tootsie-rolls (the smaller ones for two cents, not the large ones that divide into cubes) a candy necklace and tiny wax coke bottles, and of course a freeze-pop.   Sitting on the curb, she bites off small pieces of the freeze pop, careful not to get tooth-freeze or brain-freeze, until the last melty chunk is squeezed out the top of the thin plastic tube.

“What do you want to do now?” …”I don’t know, what do you want to do?”
For in her eyes
lie solemn cries
Irises of icey blue

With in her mind
You will find
Voices playing tunes

First, they sing
Last, they sting
Screaming, screaming
Hear them ring

They tell her lies and sprinkle truth
They lure her soul into the blue

Can you see her eyes
How they truly cry
Irises of icey white

Can you find
With in her mind
The answers of the night
It might need work
Marian Feb 2013
Snow. . . covering each and every branch of every tree
the ground now slumbers with blankets of snow on top of her
Winter now dances through the bitter cold air
with a crown of snowflakes in her hair
and with a robe of grey to match the dull sky
her fair white hands reach out to touch the dazzling snowflakes
which fly through the air
and land upon her hair
snowdrops hidden under their blanket of snow and ice
and all the world is sleeping
all except Mother Nature, the Snow Queen, and Winter
who stay awake to give some light to those who are still awake
dogwood blossoms haven't even opened their buds to greet the bitter air
and the bleeding hearts have never yet greeted Spring
for it is still Winter
and all the birds have flown south while Winter's birds
have flown north to greet the cold
while other birds stay here year round
without leaving whether it's hot or cold or just right
icey covered creeks are frozen cold from Winter's
cold blast
and everything is a white paradise
Wind is blowing every night
to signal it is cold
while I shiver and fall back to sleep under my own warm comforter
and the Moon's shadows dance into my room through my bedroom window
and Stars twinkle in Night's black gown streaked with midnight-blue
such picturesque beauty that only poets can pen
with their quills and feather pens dipped in black ink
stacks of papers describing millions of different themes. . .
God, Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Flowers, Night, Midnight,
and many other different themes which poets love

*~Marian~
Dallas Phoenix Mar 2015
Give me a command,
And I'll obey without restraint,
The wilting between my lines,
Are like the lead to my paint,
The music to my angst,
The fuel inside my tank,
But no matter if I'm free,
I'll always lay in front of your tank,
Acknowledge me,
Properly honor me with serenity and love,
Instead of meeting the boot,
Like a 100-legged bug,
So color me passionate,
Because my ashes flourish with glitter,
Till I tie a hammock between the sun and the winter,
kevin morris Jan 2014
Susie gazed out at the atlantic. Great waves crashed against the cliffs . A gust of wind caught the girl almost knocking her off her feet. She seemed not to notice, her eyes remained fixed on the wild sea. Unbidden the words came to her
“Till the slow sea rise and the sheer cliff crumble,
    Till terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink,
Till the strength of the waves of the high tides humble
     The fields that lessen, the rocks that shrink,
Here now in his triumph where all things falter,
     Stretched out on the spoils that his own hand spread,
As a god self-slain on his own strange altar,
                      Death lies dead.”
Susie’s salty tears mingled with the sea water which the ever increasing wind blew into her eyes.
“I’m not crying, it’s the sea water making my eyes sting” So what if I am crying? All this will pass and go. Long after I am dead this will remain, the uncaring ocean buffeting the cliffs as it has for millennia. Eventually the cliffs and the surrounding habitations will be claimed by the sea. Out of the sea life came and to the ocean humanity will return.
But I’m 20, I don’t want to die”.
All flesh is dust a mocking voice intoned. Susie whirled around. There was no one save for the gulls which wheeled and screeched overhead.
“Yes I will die but please god not yet. I have my whole life to look forward to” Susie said burying her face in her hands.  
“Stupid girl” the voice, like some  insidious demon crept into her brain.
“Shut up, shut up” the girl wept sticking her fingers into her ears attempting to silence the tormentor.
“Stupid slapper. Silly *****” the voice said undaunted by Susie’s attempts to silence it.
Doing her best to ignore whatever devil was taunting her Susie reached into her coat pocket. She felt the plain brown official envelope.
“I can’t, I won’t open it. I’ll throw it away. Better not to know”.
“Ignorance is bliss, little miss a coward is” the voice sneered.
“*******, *******” Susie screamed. Her words where lost in the howling of the wind and the crashing of the waves. Susie became aware of the crumpled envelope in her hands. In her agitation she had ******* it into a ball. How easy it would be to rid herself of the thing. One flick of her wrist and the letter would be lost forever in the depths of the Atlantic.
“Coward, coward” the voice taunted.
With a supreme effort Susie unscrewed the envelope and with trembling hands opened it. Reluctantly the girl extracted a crumpled letter.
“I can’t read it, I can’t” Susie wept. “Why did I do it? God let it be good news. Please, oh Christ I can’t bare it”.

Susie’s mind went back 4 months. She was drunk. She had never been so drunk in her entire life. The thump, thump of the music transported the girl into a world where only she and the beat, beat of the bass existed. She danced wildly letting herself be taken by the music to another realm.
Susie didn’t remember him arriving. One moment she was dancing alone, the next Susie was spinning around in the arms of a total stranger. Later that evening Susie recalled having *** in a cubicle in the gents toilets. Susie thought that she had consented but she had been so drunk she wasn’t sure.
“Christ, no ******. How could I have been so ****** stupid. I went to a good school, got all the right exams and I’m now at uni. I should have known better”.
Susie had gon to the hospital on the following day and had been tested for sexually transmitted diseases.
“You have ****** but that can easily be dealt with by antibiotics” the nurse had said.
Susie breathed a sigh of relief.
“You will, however need to come back in 3 months time for a *** test”.
“Can’t I have that today?”
“The *** virus can take upto 3 months to manifest itself so any test conducted today would be extremely unlikely to show whether you are, or are not carrying the virus”.
Susie had thrown herself into her studies for the next 3 months. When not studying she partied hard. Alcohol helped her to forget for some of the time but, in the early hours of the morning she would wake up sweating.
“What if I am infected? Christ only knows how many other girls that bloke slept with before we had ***”.
Eventually the 3 months passed and Susie returned to the hospital for her *** test.
“You can call in for your results in a few days time or, if you prefer just telephone the number on your card quoting your clinic number” the nurse said handing Susie a small slip of paper.
Susie had meant to call. She really had. However there always seemed to be something preventing her from making that call. There had been her friend’s wedding, her mum’s birthday and so, so many other things.
“Don’t make excuses. Of course you could have found a few minutes to make such an important telephone call” the insidious voice whispered in her ear.
“Yes, OK, I could. now ******* back to whatever rock you crawled out from under” Susie shouted.
Slowly Susie raised the paper to her face.
“Dear Miss Armstrong,
I refer to your visit of 4 July and the test conducted on that date. We have, unsuccessfully attempted to contact you on several occasions. Having been unable to do so I am writing to inform you of the result of your test for ***. I am pleased to advise that the test is negative (I.E. you are not *** positive).
Should you have any queries regarding this letter please call the number above and quote your clinic number to the health adviser.

Yours Sincerely “.
Susie wondered idly why doctors signatures almost always resembled squashed spiders. For the first time in many hours she smiled.
“Thank you god. Thank you”.
The gulls screeched overhead, the icey wind buffeted the girl and the great waves continued to crash against the crumbling cliffs. Susie no longer cared. She embraced the storm for it represented nature of which she was an integral part. It felt good to be alive. Susie took deep breaths.  The touch of the wind on her face  was wonderful. She smiled as her long black hair blew wildly in the sea breeze.  
“If you exist god, thank you, thank you” Susie said.
Apon are arrival once at times seemed questionable
We were greated by none.
hawaii had spoiled us to all other airport experiences
Were else could a half hunover  yet slighty buzzed  madman
stumble from a plane to encounter a beautiful woman in a grass
and cocunut bra once even now made me thirst for for a pina collada.

But in in canada there was nothing  to greet us there but cold
As we stumbbled around dressed like soon to be doomed criminals awaitting trial.

Cananda its slogan should have been.
Welcome to Cannada  it's really ******* cold.
But we knew where to find warmth in this enviroment.
Or for that matter any enviroment.
For we were drunks or as i liked to think of it consistant drinkers

And on are journey into this land of freezing weather maple syrup
and ice hockey.
We had one true goal.
we had come to drink Cannada dry.

No bar would untouched No bottle would not know are name.
we would hit on many women.
Score with a few and say we had slept with many.

I was a religeous man and i need to get in touch with with the spirts
The spirts of Canadian mist  Jim beam  And my old stand by spirt Gin


It was a bold mission for which we had set forth.
Are livers were alredy beaten to almost a pulp but
we still somehow still walked and functioned in disquise of
semi normal human beings  but nothing was further from the truth

we were writters was ment we were professional crazy people
On a mission to depleet this icey land of its alcohol
an drink canada dry
David Watt Dec 2015
Ice grips my heart.
I tell myself this every morning.
Blizzards deafen my mind,
I drive with the windows down at fifteen below.
Freezing me to solid stone,
Unreachable by human hands.
Beautiful on surface clear,
Deathly to those that dare come near.
Alexia young Nov 2013
Full moons and half hearted woman followed by dates with men that will soon go missing. Young girl just searching for that consistence. So wrapped up cause of the man she never got to witness. Now she gives herself up to everyone that's persistent. Soul turned Icey but yet she still glistens. Just a beautiful example of a woman without vision cause her outside has ****** up her inner appearance.  When referring to ***** hoes and ******* is the only time she gets any mentions. Waiting to be replenished in her world of submission.  Prayers every night to god but i guess he didn't care to listen. Lonely every June 15th yet she never stopped wishing to reconnect with the man that was the cause of that first incision. Crazy someone she never met can cause such resistant but she never loved herself again after his decision.
John Ryles Mar 2014
Seaham now has a marina
Boats bobbing up and down
Bringing new life
To this seaside town

There are also shops
Where you can have a treat
A cup of coffee
Or something to eat

My personal favourite
Is the ice-cream shop
13 different flavours
With things on top

I must be carful
About what I eat
But my doctor tells me
Don't deny yourself a treat

The Nicey Icey parlour
Passes the test
It beats competition
Because it’s better than the rest
Miss me
hug me
kiss me
touch me

make my center
your surrounding space

Don't tease me
please me
never
leave me

you can't king me
it ain't a game

i wear you better
like fitted sweater

you just my size
don't change a thing

no waters wetter
no April better

forget umbrella
come play in my rain

queen reigns
u knight
with me
just right

A.M.
no letter
penned
Dear Jane

u like it
we love it
can't get enough of it

no messin
no guessin
absolutely
no testin

u wake
"Hey wifey,
our hearts not icey
feels so good
to be unashamed..."

no guilt
no filth
no watchin' milfs
i'm yo star
you got changed mind frame

What a blessin
God is present
form of worship
He don't turn His face

our bed be wild and undefiled
**** and pure
like white lace

no need to fear
our God is here
we dance this dance
so
u n a s h a m e d

no need to fear
our God is here
we dance this dance
so
u n a s h a m e d

. . .


let's do it
again.
© 20 june 2009
Little Bird Apr 2015
She loved
           the city
           the night stars
   the snow
She loved Love
especially
         falling
              in
                  Love
but now
      feels
Nothing

not even the blizzard’s icey teeth
sinking its fangs into her skin.

To her right is the road
that She followed
to break free
of the quiet, safe life
worth anything
and everything now.
Then She looks to
the deceiving mirage
of a new start,
a bright
happy
future
filled with big beautiful towers
glowing their fake lights like amber constellations.





her fault :
believing She was strong
practically invincible
safe
and nobody could
take that away

but in one moment
all that
fragile strength
was lost.

She never asked for
  the nightmares
  the fear of Him
or for the responsibility of
two heart beats

but He didn’t listen,
said nobody will ever believe her
and once She found out about It
She lost
her
mind
completely.

looking down to the
rage of rapids
She places her hands on her
sick stomach
listens to the ZOOM of the
carefree cars
their sounds verifying that She is
finally
                 entirely
invisible.

nobody notices
       her hair restless in the wind
  the hem of her dress
       gently kissing the steele beam
           that freezes her bare purple feet.


nobody notices
when She finally escapes
  when She sets herself free
and falls into
rectifying
darkness.
With love, kelsey
jan assen Mar 2011
The icey cold cool mindless night
falling dropes motionless life
might it never end
It's touch is your mind
heart races faster
high on the feeling
but a wast of time
one there will be no high
just do to lost the pain
hide the icey cold dropes
with not to try
but not to sigh
just to lay to die
motionless is all you need
nothing more
just the secrets behide a closed door
Ix Ryley Jan 2011
That velvety black rose from depths of cold ash,
Thirst quenched by the tears of the thundering red sky,
The crashes chase fiery hairlines, cold flashes,
From cold, thorny velvet, the wet petals fly--
Like the drenched rose could cry.

Whirlwinds whip, ash rose shrouded in black.
The blossom still fights through the rain, sharp as glass.
The glow of the sun’s what the thorny rose lacks,
But, at dawn’s dim grey glow, withered rose is cold ash--
Ash, like the others before it.

A rose, as it grows, is a rose, still, at death
Through wind and the rain, and the frost's icey breath
For a rose and its seed and the ash when it's gone
Will wither and die in the time before dawn.
What's ash can't come back.
It's gone.
John Jan 2011
Sitting, dreaming, wishing
Eyes closed
My heart is what I'm pushing
Leave the window open
For me to get through tonight
Call the reliever from the bullpen
Bring him in for the good fight
The good fight's all we know
And a good time's all we want
My apprehension's starting to show
As we float away, flying high
To the sky, to the stars tonight

Take the good with the bad
Let the ugly hang out
Not in the mood, such a drag
All the reason in the world to pout
But no need, honey
It, it won't make us any money
No, no, no, no...

Brandish the knife with a smile
Let the blood trickle low
Been walking for ******* miles
Looking for something to blow
But this town's been down
Since before I can remember
And we've been bummin' around
Since the bleak days of early December
We walk, mind so hazy
As we talk of the blasphemies
Our heads are getting lazy
Only a matter of time before  I can't see
The things, the things, the things
Laid out in front of me

All ever wanted was to be taken seriously
But all I ever got was down looks
And all I ever said was taken mildly
So in this muddled opera
I sing out to the sky in crisis
My feet planted firmly
For fear of slipping down the icey
The icey hills
Where I will
Spend the rest of my foreseen days
In the heat
The ice will refuse to melt
A hundred degrees
Breaking my legs on cold I've never felt
A tease, cold hearted, she thinks she is enough.
He warmed me, he melted me.
Every minute of love- was a crack in the ice, every laugh
a tear rolling down the frosty shape- falling down my cheek.

It was a puddle, an icey mistake,
A sinister piece of modern art-
He threw it over me,
Smothered and splattered in my broken heart.
A poem of heart-break.
slip-
ing in misery
icey slopes
cracked open
sharp edges
cut toes
rip open
nails
slow and easy
coffin
wide open
Creeeeak
Sun dissolves away
in a
snowey horizon
cold blankets
freezing tightly
over eyelids
shut
tight
with
blackness
conjunctivitis
for the soul
Chalsey Wilder Oct 2013
No one gets to come in
I am trapped inside my everflowing heart
The way it flows with my emotions it feels like I'm drowning
I'm drowning in envy,hate,and depression
My everflowing heart is drowning me in its boiling waves,snuffing out my every breath of relief
It pulls me down in its ever changing current
pushing and pulling my mind out of the equation
pulling me out from inside,I try to escape my everflowing heart
My heart traps me in these rushes of icey and lava showers and currents
And I can never swim away,it grabs hold of my arms and legs and pulls me down
It pulls me down till I'm almost crushed with its weight
The weight of all the pain and the hurt,the misery and the rush
My everflowing heart
Boils on the embers of my pain and weariness
And freezes on the ice of my fears and losses
The fears that crawl into my heart and creep into my mind
My everflowing heart freezes me in my fears, freezes me in my losses
Under its weight I'm frozen,it shifts its current and breaks me to pieces
My everflowing heart
it boils and freezes,
it pushes and pulls,
and breaks and shatters me apart
with its currents and an ever changing moon that controls it with a broken heart that once belonged to someone else
You've become cold my love, icey cold. Like a beautiful ice sculpture, that can only be admired from a far.
To touch or caress would only cause Sharp icy pain. I'm watching you melt away, all the memories drop by drop.. A puddle of false promises, and forgotten emotions. I'm so tempted to collect what's left of you, the melted pieces. Reshape you into what you once were, refreeze you and never let you melt away.
You've gone cold my Love, icey cold.
Icey wind blows
snowflakes swirling
'bout my head

Wrapped against the cold
mittens and shawls
my new best friends

The air is clear, brisk
Not a cloud in sight
The wind is still
on this cold
silken night

House becomes harbor
Secure safe and warm
Comfort embraces Us
upon finding Our way home


Copyright © 2014 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.
Minnesota
In the morning fog my breath collects
Always leaving me to wonder what's next
My life became black and grey poetry
Colors just appear when you notice me
Your eyes a shade of grey and icey blue
Kaleidoscopes of emotions and hues
Dance inside your ever changing iris
It's a gamble, it's my heart I risk
The possibility of hurting me
Could lead to lasting love, eternally
To take my hand and go through the fire
For flames cannot touch stars that burn brighter
Joshua Vincens Oct 2015
been havin a bad time lately/
I look around n all that I see/
So Much hurt, fear, & misery/
Sick of solitude Yet I hate the state of humanity/
feelings of uncertainty, but I do know I'm Lonely/
Despise my mind & these thoughts that scold me/
alone, cold, frozen from walkin on this icey road/
Fear that I'm unworthy of the life I wish I owned/
so, I'm sittin solo, drenched from head to toe/
believe & plead that I can recieve some help/
still I get nothin', probably cause I hate myself/
Trapped & forgotten, just dust on the shelf/
wanna live but fear...
need this to end, why...
can't I just **** myself?/
Jimmy King Jul 2013
I think it was the water
Coming in
And going out-
Never pausing
Never faltering
Just an endless
And perfect
Procession

Yes,
I believe it was the water
That drew us in.

It was cloudy
That day we took our
Swan dive
That day we made our
Cliff jump
And the waves
Just splashed and roared
Beneath us...
Above us:
Just daring us...

To plummet
Through that icey water;
Abandon
Both our fear of time
And our fear of ourselves

Oh it was certainly the water
That let me find her
And it was certainly the water
That gave her reason
To find me

Of course
It was also the water
That allowed me to betray her
And her to betray me

It was the water
That allowed us
To strip one another's humanity away
And leave each other trapped
Amidst that terribly consistent roaring
Forever
Kirsten Martin Oct 2010
I have scarlet cheeks and the hottest hands
Once your firm lips press upon translucent skin
A dizzying reality, a crashing universe
That compel my blood and thoughts to race, all for you
My heart beats and beats

These forrested roads pass as streaks of rust and green, magnificent
Only one turns to reach a destination
The rest we take lost in hope of a journey
With dripping ice cream and melting passengers
You drive and drive

I feel tiny icey shatters through me
With each touch from strong hands callous from art
And each bead of sweat or water is a tear
Shed for the beauty of our braided bodies
Entwined, shooting impulses electric
We love and last
Karissa Olson Jul 2013
i wish for everything to stop.
                                                           ­                                   


                           ­                               just for a moment.

                                                               ­                                 
                               ­                                                                 ­                                 may i please press pause  
                                                         ­                           and go about my day with everything this way
                                                             ­                  a world captured in ice and wouldn't it be nice
                                                                ­      if i could view this exclusive art gallery so lovely
                      
                      
                  ­          a  
                    world   so  
               lonely,   just me
                    and      all
                           the                  
                                          icey  life.


and oh, if my thoughts could stop too if i could just view
the frozen moment through soley images in my empty mind no words or judgements to find
Ah, if the thoughts could stop.


i think what i wish for is quiet.
not the normal

s
     i  
        l
            e
                n
                      c
                           e

but complete:       silence.






shhh!**  
















quiet.  ........................­.................................................................­.................................................................­................. . . . . .............. ......................................... ....................................................... ............................. ........................ ... ...... .... ....... . ...  ................. ................................. ...... .. . . .......................... . ................. .  ........................ . . .  ......   ............ . .    ....     ...........................     . .......... .............. ... . . . .   ..   ...  ............... ...................... . . . .     .... .    .    ..... . ......... .......... ..........     .......... . . . . . . . ...................... . . . . . .       . ... . ...........     . . .. . . . . . . . . ........... . . .
 . .         . . . . .. . .  . .   . . .. . . .        ... . . . . .. . . . . . .     .. . . . .  . .. ..   .  .. .. . ..    . .  .   ... . ... . .. .. .      ... .. .. . . . . . . ... ... .. .. .         .        .. . . .   .  .  . .               .....     .     .       .      ..     ...      . . . .     . ..     .. .     . ....     ..     ...    ..   ..   ..      ..     .          ..       ..         ..        .        ...           .               .       ...     ..       .         ..       .    ...   ....  .      .        .
       . .          .                               .                  .  ­         ....        .          ..            .         ...      ­                .                      .      
. .              .                ..                               ­  ....                         ...                             .                 ..  .                          .
                                ­         .              ...                .. . . .            .                               .                                    .                          
­ .                     ..                                                     .                                                       .   .                              
       ..                                                     ...                                                              ­                                               .                  
                              .                                 ­                               ..                                ­        .. .                                                          
     ­  .   ..                                                           ­                 

                                              ­                                                          . .
                                                             .
                                                               ­                                                                 ­                        ..
                      ....

                                    ­                                                                 ­                       .               
    ..                                                               ­            .
.
                                                             ­                                                                 ­       ....
                        ...

                    ..         ­                        ..                       
                                       ­                                                                 ­           .                                                     ­        
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                  

...


                                       ­                                                                 ­      .              ..
..




.                           .                                                                ­                                

                                                               ­                                                                 ­                                                ...





.                                                         ..                                                   


                            


       .
            .                      
       




                                                    ­                                                                 ­                      
.















                         ­                                                .










... just
quiet.
Bring me a lantern dear ,
Strike out the fire ,
for my bed awaits me at this late hour .

The curtain is drawn ,
my blanket lies o ,
I rest my weary head ,
and Oft to bed I go .

Awake me in a thousand years ,
Why don’t you ,
and watch over me as I sleep I pray ,
until I awake. .

For as long as I slept the earth froze ,
or cooked ,
or both !
and hell ( they called it that ) men died from its Icey breath ,
        and even they cursed the day they were born .
Vermin rats mice scurried then froze to death as even they found no
relief from its polar vortex .

For babies were left out to die in its falling snow ,
Old men stumbled and fell near their homes ,
of which even they did not see again .

I turned and the earth burnt ,
It’s heat burnt forests and grass land as I slept ,
if the suns rays didn’t then man set woodland alight ,
for the thrill .
Men abandoned their pursuit of recreation and kept indoors ,
Until the heat from the sun had ran its course ,
and the earth found shade in the shadows of its night .

I turned again ,
Fly tippers left their unwanted garbage over farm land ,
at the end of the streets ,
In the country where ever they liked ,
for no one cared ,
Certainly not them .

Silt turned to mud and buried towns and fields ,
and man looked ever on lost in grief ,
or weighing their silver on scales of death .

Creatures of the deep of every kind lied dead from plastic bags and toys of every kind ,
Mattresses.,
Supermarket trolleys dumped .


Cans of fizzy drink were left discarded tossed on beaches .

Migrants sailed from their captive shores on dingy unfit for the sea .
they were swollowed whole by the great waters .
.
I turned again ,
Children wrote obscenity s on walls for their thrill ,
carried knives and stabbed each other ,
for their own gratification.

Then
A man who slept in a doorway awoke to freezing wind ,
a lady bent down with  hot broth to warm his poor heart again .
Children with bags in hand picked up litter ,

And I awoke after a thousand years of wrong ,
the sun cranked the ice on rivers and lakes ,
and the man fell in love with the world again .
Jordan LC Murphy Nov 2016
Carved my name on the body of a giant,
United our souls indefinitely,
Through the sands of time,
Inspired by your coloured cathedral canopies,
And the dapple scattered light that shines,
As Autumn grasps your foliage,
And the cold does grab your spine,
Still you stand defiant,
So proud and full of life.

The misty mornings dew does steeper,
Deeper through your roots,
Poison ivy vines clamber trying to steal your loot,
My mighty oak still you cope,
To me your like my anchor,
A trusted soul without a judgement,
Where I release my anger.

Through the roughest storms,
You still stand strong,
When all around has fallen,
God forbid you ever fall,
My heart will break in torment.

Under the winters howl,
Owls perched on icey diamond branches,
Squirrels running ragged creating avalanches,
My mighty oak I hope you never have to hurt,
You give so much and ask of nothing in return,
So here you are a poem I made especially just for you,
All I ask is nothing but to listen to my groans,
As you always surely do!
** ** **
To my local mighty oak tree to whom I like to confide in...
SøułSurvivør May 2016
We are all just sliding down
The hill on icey snow
We have really no idea
Which way life will go

We're sitting on a hubcap
A toboggan we can't steer
There's no way to then avoid
The obstacles we fear

We may have a super job
Have a comfortable home
But we could lose that good career
Then we're all alone

No house. No wife. No children.
No way to make a living
Looking at a homeless state
In search of someone giving

We could be in perfect health
Yet slip and have a fall
Be in the wrong vehicle
We could lose it all

We're on a slippery *****
That toboggan goes so fast
We may have many blessings
But how long will they last?

When we have the good in life
Our prayers we may not raise
When there's strife and things go wrong
We forget to give Him praise!

Remember Jesus suffering
Remember His great gift
He gave us Redemption
Our burdens He can lift!

Prayer is the answer
When things are going well
And praising His goodness
Even through life's hell

He has all the Power
He has all the Might
He can keep you safe!
He can make things right!

You are on that hubcap
Slipping like the breeze
But you can jump the rocks
And avoid those big ol' trees!

So give Him all of what He's due
He has the strength of Will
You are then connected

To the maker of the hill.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 5/29/2016
My brother lost his wallet with all my parent's credit cards in it. He usually does our shopping. This is really a problem not only because of the obvious reasons but because we are almost out of food and he does our shopping. So we are in a real situation for 2 days. But I'm not worried at all. God will provide. And I will ever praise Him! AMEN!

***GOOD NEWS!!! MY CHURCH FOUND OUT ABOUT OUR WOES AND IS HELPING US OUT FINANCIALLY TIL MONTH'S END!!! JESUS IS AWESOME!!!***

--
Ariel Taverner Jan 2015
My love.....

My love....

My sweet bitter love
Caress my heart in your hands
Touch my soul with your heavenly icey fingers
Make me feel alive and not alone
Please my love....

Press your head against my chest
Touch my arms
Make me feel like a bird
Soaring across the vastness of your beauty

My love.....

My sweet bitter love
Look into my painful eyes
Let me look into your abyssally deep eyes
Let my lips drift slowly towards yours
Let me kiss you
my love
Let me feel your passion
Your pain.....

You

Please my love...
My love.....
My bitter sweet love
Put your arms around me
Pull me tight
Chest against chest
Let me feel your heart
Let me feel your love
Let me feel your smooth skin
Let me feel your passionate gaze
Let me feel your lips against mine

My love....

My bitter sweet love

Let me kiss your smooth silken neck
Let me caress your suple *******
Let me feel your skin against mine
Let me feel the sweat
Streaming off our bodies
Let me feel your heart and soul
Mingling with my own

Let us intertwine

My love.....

My Bitter Sweet Love

I love you
A fantasy
Marigolds Fever Oct 2018
Strawberry cove
Water reflects sky above
Sunlit bay
On a crystal clear day
Sandhills roll
Tiny bird peers from little hole
Washing sandy feathers
Near small vessels tethered
Fishermen lurk about
Scattered fish
Make a last wish
White chilled on rocks
Fruit floats
Refreshing drink
Icey wine coats
Gently as boats sway
Sweet succulent way
Strawberry cove
Nature’s liquid dessert
Sugared water spurt
Copyright © Marigold’s Fever 2018
Thank you local bay
Joey McNamara Mar 2010
The soap feels like rock in the shower
The water runs cold down my fingers
Like a blanket of snow over grass
It's taking too long, but I'm not really caring
I'm off with the stars and their friends
It's just the end of another hopeless cause
But I held it so close, I need you right here
It's just not the same, without your body next to mine

The trees sing their sweet sorrow
The birds calling out to the night
The stars all blink out to darkness
As with each step you get, further and further away
I'm off with the stars and their friends
It's just the end of another hopeless cause
But i held it so close, I need you right here
It's just not the same, without your body next to mine

Stepping out of the shower and into the light
The day isn't quite yet over
Theres time still for this not to be
Another hopeless cause
I'm off with the stars and their friends
It's jsut the end of another hopeless cause
But i held it so close, I need you right here
It's just not the same, without your body next to mine

Your eyes how they glisten and glimmer
Like the shine of a new autum leaf
They stare like icey blood daggers
Knocked out just by one look
And I'm off with the stars and their friends
It's just the end of another hopeless cayse
But I held it so close, I need you right here
It's just not the same, without your body next to mine

Climbing down the mountain of, my house stairs
Sprinting to the room where you, lying on my bed. I
Jump to the warm, stay there till dawn. I
know, you will be here, when I return
Oh I'm off with the stars and their friends
It's just the end of another hopeless cause
But I held it so close, I need you right here
It's just not the same without your body next to mine

The trees sing their sweet sorrow
The birds calling out to the night
The stars all blink out to darkness
As with each step you get, further and further away
I'm off with the stars and their friends
It's just the end of another hopeless cause
But i held it so close, I need you right here
It's just not the same, without your body next to mine
And you're going, going, going, gone.
Death, relationships, depression and a really bad day.
© 2010 Joey McNamara
Josh Whitton Mar 2013
Whimpers, woefully woven,
Can cry sheets of silk.

Made into a duvet, doomed,
Whispering chills in a silent din.

Icey cold, like daggers against skin,
Carving from the warmth it would once bring.

Solace, Silence and Serenity,
All seem to define this reality.

Imprisoned, within these four walls,
I weave my whimpers through tomorrow...

I will weave my whimpers,
But I will learn to sew.
I would like to give this poem a name and any suggestions would be appreciated! (As well as your feedback!!)
Margaret Mary Dec 2012
You throw on this little act
That your a gent, and a man of class
When really you're a little boy with no morals
A coward who feeds off my horrors
Look at your wrist...
Glance at your viens...
An icey cold blue that makes you feel no pain
Or maybe the reason,
Why you feel no shame, in your pathetic ways
Your soul has gone cold
And your heart has died
Now a resting place, where the Devil lays and hides
I hope you're proud
Of what you've become
So cheers too you
And your ****** up way of "fun"
Skye Marshmallow Jan 2018
In death he haunts us
He is not a soft silver spirit
Nor a milky ghost
Not innocent white purity
But thick, intolerable guilt
Regret weighing heavy on our slagging shoulders
Vengeance heating our worn down souls
He is fiery red anger
He is icey blue grief
He is the absolute darkness
Of all consuming loss
Austin Mosher Aug 2013
The water's words gush out of
Both my ears
And on to the icey floor.
What's behind
Your leaky eye's shallow disguise?
Were you ever
Awake when your eyes were closed?
My ear is
Frozen to the floor waiting for
Your whispers.
Condensation drips off of
Empty vases
Clinched in the viper's closed fist.
The cycle,
Constant and never ending
Will repeat
Until the cataracts fall
From your eyes.
Joanna Garrido Jan 2019
Pretty snowflakes swirling and spiralling through the air, softly landing
A myriad of different shapes and sizes
I laugh as one lands on my nose. My breath hangs in the air like a small cloud.
Snow to the knees, we sink in it as we walk and leave deep footprints. I try to step in your deeper footprints.

Overnight, white Winter, with cold heart has touched the land with her icey fingers and left a wonderland behind.
The stream is covered in ice, and translucent hard pointed jewels hang where once the waterfall cascaded.  The bare arms of the trees are painted in white as Winter brushed past in her rush to cover the land.

Wrapped up warm, we enjoy the winter scenery as we sink in snow making our way home. Because of the cold and snow, home feels extra comforting. It’s a pleasure to warm our hands before the fire, snuggle up with mugs of piping hot tea, through the window watch the snowflakes tumble like little lacey acrobats.

14/01/19 JG
Ellyn k Thaiden Dec 2013
I
Ignorance and illness
Illogical thinking and infamous deeds
Irrational behavior and icey hearts
Irreversible actions

The world is loosing its taste

— The End —