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Waffles Jul 2018
I can write for you
Or I can write for me

I can recieve the instant gratific8tion
Or I can release my feels

The rawness and jaggedness and ugl8ness of something unrefined that runs too long and lacks or
Der

If I am to be a collector of confirmation and praise, only one category is permitted:
My own.
I want to 0ractice not eating the marshmallow.
Kerry Peterson Mar 2013
Plain little jewels of the sea
Resting easy in my hand,
Your velvety roundness
Breathes tranquility in me.

Funny this should be,
For you were born in the fires of this sphere,
Ejected rudely with sudden blast
Chipped from wholeness,
Pressed and wave tossed.
Upheaval transformed you from igneous grit
To this polished state.

You do not sparkle or shine
With color bright,
But your creamy grain
Soothes, beautifies your loud world
Where surf and sand collide.

Placed in my palm,
You help me pause,
Remember that time and stormy seas
Might just knock the jaggedness off me.
Tyler Smiley Oct 2018
You left me with open ended letters
and hand written promises.
Your words were always too fine,
too far and few between.
You were a genre of your own kind.
An enigma of words, always
tattered and smeared.
Coffee rings and cigarette ash
seem to ruin every last page of a chapter.
Things got ****** and I could no longer
read you, my eyes unable to pick up what
was left to discover between the lines.
Hard cover, when I was always paperback,
bending in any way you wanted me to.
I tried so hard to keep you with me,
crumpled up in my front pocket,
but the jaggedness of your ripped out edges
did nothing but draw blood.
I’m so tired of getting papercuts.
I’m running out of bandaids.
Poetic Devices Mar 2017
The body bound
Restrained yet open
A masterpiece of living parchment
Da Vinci's virtu of carnal sin

A Maestro playing
Each hill and valley
Tracing want in cross marked pain
Symphonies of tormenting fire
Mapped upon willing skin

Lines etched
Lustful treasures exposed
Flowering petals become the focus
A crack of whip
Drawing outside
Societal maps of propriety
Margins of mind filled
With consuming need

Each strike laid
With a Falls precision
Drawing forth jaggedness
Bordering outcrops of greed
Unrelenting strikes rained down
Igniting pain
Replaced with fire
Driving the body
Until there is no thought, no voice
No place to hide, just
Incoherent whispers
Begging for release

Crescendos pop
As the epicenter is struck
Singled out and singed
Again and again
The body quakes as
Floods roll forth
Pleasure engulfing
The pain mapped body
Muscles pulled taught
Rigid in need

The Maestro
Etches his last mark
Allowing his masterpiece
Of pleasure to be unleashed
Temporary nirvana (albeit elusive),
nonetheless I strive to access
attaining bliss mine soul bless
exceeding exhilaration winning
(with fewest moves against

deadly opponent) bittersweet game,
where life analogous playing chess
mortality embraced hesitantly, I confess
gnarled, knotted, pitted... old fingers
wrinkled mottled flesh doth dress

unavoidable senescence
upon body politic mortality doth express,
though severely myopic,
yours truly eyewitness
self positing query,

asper meaning of life
oft times rhetorical question fathomless
lacking satisfactory resonance,
this mind strives to second guess
time spent probing haphazardness,

asper gaining insightful purposefulness...
coalesces, sans clarity when idleness
experiences Zen, albeit approximately
inducing light trance smooths jaggedness
inviting mindfulness, lucidness, keenness...

absolute zero distraction eases lamentableness
assuaging, deepening, massaging
psychological state with limitless
ascendence toward manageableness
decreasing mental din and clangor

allowing, enabling, providing...
cerebral nearsightedness
to escape into temporary nothingness,
a foretaste of eternal obliviousness
free from preponderant woes,

incessant sweaty palms, a painless
dimension unfeeling unimaginable quietness
impossible to envision raptness,
when death be not proud reiterates stillness
silencing roiling tempestuousness!
c rogan Aug 2022
Descend
Like a particle of dust

..
.
Landing on a *****,
A steep curve sharp as a knife.
A white car, backpacks, a guitar,
Sing life to the rims of the empty canyon
The sound returns  
It echoes like circadian drums.
A chasm, a fold in your bedsheets,
The space between you and your mother.
It divulges words of a great marble book,
Dialogue in dissonance
Pages upturned, eager to be read by the sun.
We run our hands along  
Stories carved in this valley of jaggedness,
Seeking horizon lines  
Under oceans of stone.
Mist falls
Through the sleeping cusp
between two gray shale wings
of the deepest river canyon,
Weaving strings of glacial waters
Like topographic canticles.

An internal breathlessness
Guides us by maps written
In shards of glass.
Rhythms of instinct
Pull me forward
Yet the blade on her hand
Collapses me in
profound solitude.
.
I fell in love with the shadow of you.
The round edges and dark spaces.
They complimented my jaggedness and bliss.

— The End —