"interweaves" poems
In a forest, where bird songs are silencers to a pistol and their feathers are scattered hopes, like broken dreams are to fantasies, I sit.
I stretch my arms, wide enough to fit grief and happiness in my muddy hands that I use to bury unspoken apologies and eulogies for days I have not yet lived.
I begin to stare aimlessly at the sky trying to spot the night moon. Its silhouette, that I trace with my finger.
I've drawn
And in the folds of the night, I hold you close
like day does dawn.
I let your depression stain my cheeks and see it drip between the gaps in my teeth,
sting my gum,
and so your language interweaves itself upon wounded scars on my tongue, so when i return back home, i return with the same cuts identical to your tongue that you hung
I don't want to sound too much of a stranger to you when I talk thus tonight, I’ll choose to tie happiness to things that have asked for no such burden
and stictch my lips silent to silence our silent violence.
My eyes bounce back at the hazy sky as if it’ll tame your inner broken and mould it into a less wild creature
more civil, more mature
less aggressive, less of a spirit
Your spirit appears in the bezels of my mind
my trachea catches fire burning deep into my whines ,
my breath disappearing into a silent hymn in the dull light
and watch my tongue chameleonize into a trillion hues of white
until my tongue becomes a graveyard for all my white lies
Until pain becomes a part of my diet,
until I'm able to chew the residual images of a broken girl, until her sadness becomes the air I breathe
until her inner warrior becomes the battle field never fought in
until I'm able to swallow sadness when chugged down my throat,
until I'm able to befriend your wild.
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 7:47 AM UTC
Birthed from perfect unknown void,
Crescendos of unific silence
And a ****** ear reflecting,
A Gift between Two Brothers discontent
Interweaves them now and evermore
In fraternal ******* to a nondual realm.
A lightning seed of thought between two darks,
One light enough to fade the cosmic frown,
To be reborn in strife eternal,
And set the Cycle hastening to a Muse.
His flickering strands dehiscing essence,
The perfect fracture in a faultless whole,
It brings to bear the Change supernal:
The Triple Sequence timely folding,
Unfolds the Rhapsody of Seasons:
Wind, Sea and Earth alighting
Origins of Fire churning dim:
Clear rippling of finality forgotten,
New pressing through into existence,
Her gaze a creature to its own illumination
Renewed, with steaming boundaries... ragged breath:
Living sparks to contemplate the Stars,
And Satyr forward lustful genesis.
The hidden sun plays throughout the wood
A fragant melody of Light held fast,
Of Shadow pregnant and yearning
Bursting forth in spray of life subdued,
Laid low by Rhythmic pulse
And Timeless sea of tempoed mystery.
The hoard takes form, enraged--
A battle-morning's thralling mist of
Early spirits condensate to cling...
That vast blank anticenter dares to mock
With bated fragile brandishings, the
Violent frame of peace-horizons
Stepping out of step, Undeath whining
For a loss of Truth continual. Yet
Hope is wheeling her neoteric self
Upon that sovereign evanescence
Web-like spinning still, a prior sense,
A transfinite faultline of life yet unborn,
Of death still unwrought and wrought again
In hues of growth, and dreams of change,
Waiting silently for Books of Song.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 3:11 PM UTC
Everything rises
Smile
Everything that lives
Reina
All that is lily
Smells
All Laca
interweaves
All who love
Bed
All rejoices
It's love
Everything hurts
It is loneliness
All that remains
ache
All that was
Heat
All away
Aphelion.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
If any item
should retain
eldritch potency
in this present age.
It would be
bacon.
wild magik
is released
by the fat
contained
within its
thick sliced rind.
Glamor can be
released
in simple
domestic rituals.
All you need
is a pan
& a heat source.
Many magi
have reported
in secret books
about bacon’s aid
in seeing
the future.
When bacon cooks
within a simple pan.
It sizzles
prophetic quatrains
of coming days,
and often is served
with well-cooked omens.
Seers
have reported
the auspicious energies
properly displayed
when bacon power
is properly
presented.
When the curl
of bacon
properly
interweaves
the tips of tongue…
For in
the tingle
the taste bud
apprehends
the shape
of infinite spaces;
where the future
is foretold
within
the chew
of inward knowledge.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
My flesh is inflamed, frenzied, and moist
A fervent appetite for you scorching inside
Our lips fasten as I ****** your mouth
Your hands are greedy and anxious
My fingers trace and roll on your face
Suckling your neck as I worship you
Your seductive eyes glistening
Inviting lips pouty and full
Curvaceous and refined, I touch your milky skin
I want to flow into you
My ******* become firm as you pinch and feast
Glistening from your taste
Peeling back my needs
As your tongue spirals around my heat
Hips rotating and lifting
Clamping unto you as you tease
A tide ruptures in the middle of me
Provoking lascivious thoughts
Whimpers escape gripping you
Your majestic body flushed
As your inviting lips kiss my womanhood
A unity for our intimacy
Your virility entering inside my mouth
Taunting as you pull me near
I savor your flesh as you thrive
Filling the center of me
Your rising inside my passage melting inside
The dampness from our devotion
Interweaves you into me
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
A window into the soul
Water rushing along a gutter
The awaking to raindrops
Hard upon ancient metal flashing.
Gurgles echo in the drainpipes
Droplets join with a chaotic torrent
That interweaves fingers
With the cobbles in the street.
A window into the soul?
But memories melt like softened snow
Down off a high fence of wrought iron
Caked with ice
Though the blacker the metal
The more warmed by the electric afternoon sun.
Crystals drip into syrupy tendrils
And dissolve the moments past.
A window into the soul
The melting left the cold cinders
Once hot and glowing
Now long extinguished.
Even the ash is long washed away.
They sit among stones,
Tendrils of weeds.
Can anyone identify and name them
Among the petrified earth?
A window into the soul
A drought across the landscape.
Whiffs and wisps of smoke on the wind
Crackling sounds of burning trees and grasses.
Waves of flame sweep over a landscape
And even forgotten charcoal
Glows red again.
Flames dance and animate
An inner fire, that only rested
But was never extinguished.
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
.
'union' sentience
"all-one-love-of-being-'S'elf"
brings global delight
~
emptiness forms 'me'
flowing novel 'i-am-ness'
as 'all' interweaves
.
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 12:53 AM UTC
Lust interweaves the fingertips of it's lover. Dragging across the skin in peculiar form to rest it's fingernails upon a scar. A wish is released from it's lips saturated with a glimmer of comprehension. A resting palm upon the scar. Desire is the muscle below it.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 4:26 AM UTC
Since April 16th, I've been dressed in fatigue
I'm emotionally damaged with my blood on the leaves
Death purged my soul from my body; Ancient One's Creed
Natural selection took her, made me realize I failed her
How do you have the apple of Eden and still miss her?
They say don't hold your life for a pet; I'm still held up
Watching my heart swim laps in pools of bourbon cups
I should have been there to see the innocence check out her eyes
To hold her paw and camouflage my cardiac scars in disguise
I find pleasure in resting my eyes until the new day interweaves
And I have to walk this path looking into the sky with disbelief
Reality wipes you out like Japan's tsunami rolling up to receive
I had to find a way to deter the sob filled days and time freeze
And when I have it on the ropes I see pictures and the recycle begins
Apr 24, 2020
Apr 24, 2020 at 11:50 AM UTC