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"lactic" poems
Though the first carried more miles, the second day of the hike was totally and unapologetically uphill. 
When you ascend, hiking becomes the zen of endurance. 

First, you are stripped of all the pleasures of hiking. Your excitement is boiled into lactic acid. Your love for the trail is baked, hardened and dehydrated into thoughts of laying down in the sun until the heat shrivels you into an unconscious raisin. 

Try as you may to put on your “isn’t hiking just a slice of heaven?” face, strangers passing you on the downhill stride can only see your “PLEASE GOD, HELP ME OR ******* **** ME” face. As much as hiking really is a small slice of heaven, there is no denying the living-death of taking 10 straight miles to the knees under the chaffing hell of a 50 pound sack in the relentless sun. 
 But when you’re back in an office, sitting on your cushy little ergonomic chair, you long for the sweat and the torture that forces your mind to the ankle deathtraps of mountain terrain. To the deep valley behind and below you, and the crystal basin at the foot of the granite Giants. 

The worst thing you can do is ignore the pain—that makes it relentless. Instead you focus on the pain until you become it. The only thing left is the moment between each step, when you remember why you are here and what it is worth. Every time your foot touches dirt, it leaves twice the footprint. One on the mountain and another in your memory where you will safeguard the misery of your ascent and hold on for dear life. One day, when your knees are too weak and your body can no longer table your pack, all the pleasures and joys of the trail that you once thought dissipated in the steam of uphill toil will come rushing back with the magnified strength of every year between you and the present you once knew and respected enough to actually live. And if you didn’t, if you let it only be pain to get through and not to focus or dwell on, then that is what it is and will always be. A dull memory of pain, dark and somber and incomplete.
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Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
The Zen of Hiking
Though the first carried more miles, the second day of the hike was totally and unapologetically uphill. 
When you ascend, hiking becomes the zen of endurance. 

First, you are stripped of all the pleasures of hiking. Your excitement is boiled into lactic acid. Your love for the trail is baked, hardened and dehydrated into thoughts of laying down in the sun until the heat shrivels you into an unconscious raisin. 

Try as you may to put on your “isn’t hiking just a slice of heaven?” face, strangers passing you on the downhill stride can only see your “PLEASE GOD, HELP ME OR ******* **** ME” face. As much as hiking really is a small slice of heaven, there is no denying the living-death of taking 10 straight miles to the knees under the chaffing hell of a 50 pound sack in the relentless sun. 
 But when you’re back in an office, sitting on your cushy little ergonomic chair, you long for the sweat and the torture that forces your mind to the ankle deathtraps of mountain terrain. To the deep valley behind and below you, and the crystal basin at the foot of the granite Giants. 

The worst thing you can do is ignore the pain—that makes it relentless. Instead you focus on the pain until you become it. The only thing left is the moment between each step, when you remember why you are here and what it is worth. Every time your foot touches dirt, it leaves twice the footprint. One on the mountain and another in your memory where you will safeguard the misery of your ascent and hold on for dear life. One day, when your knees are too weak and your body can no longer table your pack, all the pleasures and joys of the trail that you once thought dissipated in the steam of uphill toil will come rushing back with the magnified strength of every year between you and the present you once knew and respected enough to actually live. And if you didn’t, if you let it only be pain to get through and not to focus or dwell on, then that is what it is and will always be. A dull memory of pain, dark and somber and incomplete.
Continue reading...
7
Your pace begins to noticeably pick up, Your breaths are becoming shorter. You begin to coach yourself mid stride, "Glide don't gallop, you look like Tigger for Christ's sake!" Eventually it washes over you, You slowly fade into a Sudden abyss of Sorts. You're no longer running nor jogging, Hell you're not even moving. You're somewhere else, Somewhere you told your mind to take You. It might be an altered memory of a Past victory Or perhaps a fantasy in the near future. Where ever you are, You're alone. Yet you are crowded at the same exact Time. You're in complete control, Yet you have no idea how to enter or Exit this state. Before you know it, You come too. Back into the reality of your bodies Limits. Your joints are aching and the lactic Acid has built in your upper thighs. Your arms have grown heavier and Heavier. How'd I not notice all this pain before? Where was I? All questions foreshadowed by this: ..What the hell do I have to do to get back?
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Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 4:02 AM UTC
Runners High
see we don’t take anything too seriously meet up at my place for some bull **** splashing in a pool of **** your stuff they only told us to do as we were told so we always did the opposite calling self-destruction noble individualism take a GB or two or however many get’s the job done I hear some medicinal **** is coming to town and yeah grab me another beer because it’s noon and today still looks ugly muscles are tripping on lactic acid stomach growling but the coffee keeps the leash tight when the word sober puts your teeth on edge and the part-time gig scratches your throat we’re the silly people who weave in and out of anonymity with music too loud and choices too poor the junkies and jokers are carrying me to the river because it gets hard to paddle upstream sometimes and laughter is really only the second best medicine
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Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
Junkies and Jokers
Galactic curls in spirals swirl, entwining twisted mystery, where time unrolls in blackened holes, no longer bright and blistery, but writ like runes on starry dunes enclosed in cosmic history Galactic dust, from novas' gusts, congesting empty spaces once fatefully flung beyond the tongue of burnt out astral traces, may recompress and coalesce in distant times and places Galactic dwarves, like ancient wharves with silent planets mooring yet still in spin though long done in, hide flares no longer soaring - magnetic webs of eons ebb, in thermal fusion roaring Galactic tides warp space divides, call forth sublime creation while bending clocks in rippled shocks, unfolding time dilation that seems to crown the flowing gown of pulsars' pulsed gyration Galactic stew, a seething brew, midst background noise and chatter like Chaos reigns, the sole remains of missing antimatter, with just a trace to form a space-time, curved or somewhat flatter Galactic glue holds something new: dark energy and matter that interacts and counteracts the ancient Big Bang splatter: a cosmic soup of strings and loops, a universal batter Galactic life's replete and rife 'neath lactic milky wafer, though solar gales leave unseen trails of cosmic rays, the strafer; but nonetheless, one must confess, it seems there's nowhere safer
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Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
Galactic Glimpses
A little taste of tarmac, Bobby Let me spin my wheels A little taste of the long flat road I’ve forgotten how it feels A little taste of tarmac, Bobby Make my chainwheel hum A little taste of the up hill grind Thirty miles and some A little taste of tarmac, Bobby Way out among the farms A little taste of dust on your lips My metal soul would calm Climb up onto the saddle, Bobby Clip into the pedals tight Feel my frame respond to you You always crank me right Stay with me in the saddle, Bobby Our ride will be as sweet As the wash of lactic acid From your shoulders to your feet It’s good with you on my saddle, Bobby I know you feel the same You push my pedals hard now And laughing call my name Lean easy in those corners, Bobby Accelerating the while My frame is all aglow now On your face I sense a smile Flying home with you, Bobby You get the adrenaline kick It makes you sprint the last half mile And smooth out the left hand flick A little taste of tarmac, Bobby I am waiting stem unbowed Come find me soon and ride me Before my rims corrode A little taste of tarmac, Bobby Make me spin my wheels A little taste of any road Or forget how good it feels.
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Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
A Little Taste Of Tarmac
I walked into a room where you were And my pride kept me from hightailing It out of the room and running until My legs burned with lactic acid. You spoke to me but the words fell on dull ears. You looked at me but I kept my walls up Such that in my head I was invisible. I had done so well protecting myself, Staying away from the places you frequented, Not spending time with the people you call friends Even though they were my friends first. And then today all my efforts became Void, vain, utterly useless, For there I was inwardly crumbling The broken-then-stitched-back-together Fragments of my heart Between proverbial coldhearted fingers. My jaw is as set as my will: like flintstone, Cold, hard, and steeled. You may once have had a hold on me, Affected me, impacted me, But today, you are nobody.
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Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
Nobody
Sometimes, if I try, I hum between the tumbling Hills of the world bracing domesticated beasts. They graze and grunt all over again, Entering slumbers following the daily sweep Of lactic creeks, thin enough to guide tree roots. Dusk is explained by the party of two, embracing the dividing sun. Look left to see coral reef skies swim attempting to grasp what is to the right of the Sun: Silhouettes outlining prayers flattening dimensions of rugged Mosques Still dusty from wheat flour and patterned by uncooked lentils, that Slipped through missing seams of Burlap, blackened from the hearth Malleable as a result of dependency. Though only half of my sight functions, I reason that Earth shifts without you. Watching centuries and some odd Years of changes, I yearn to know where you have gone. I peer from the peacock’s tail, feeling the pulse of the World tick away as the fearless pray to someone new. Your countenance, I interlaced with feathered fingers Depicts movements, curves. A shame to be without Language to fill the contours of a nebulaic expression Or swindling modifications. You put me here. My eyes anyway. Expecting me to retire along with buildings for your worship Powdery paint has spilled and faded along with Others who have modified your appearance, their someone new. Even as the shadows swells A million replicates of Io, moo and sway home, tired from the Beating sun, to which eyes remain fixed. One momentary memory visits. Vision simulate traces of wonder, travelling on Pathways believed to be conquerable. The people have learned What I have not. They pause, breathe.
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Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
Dear Hera, From Argus
Sometimes, if I try, I hum between the tumbling Hills of the world bracing domesticated beasts. They graze and grunt all over again, Entering slumbers following the daily sweep Of lactic creeks, thin enough to guide tree roots. Dusk is explained by the party of two, embracing the dividing sun. Look left to see coral reef skies swim attempting to grasp what is to the right of the Sun: Silhouettes outlining prayers flattening dimensions of rugged Mosques Still dusty from wheat flour and patterned by uncooked lentils, that Slipped through missing seams of Burlap, blackened from the hearth Malleable as a result of dependency. Though only half of my sight functions, I reason that Earth shifts without you. Watching centuries and some odd Years of changes, I yearn to know where you have gone. I peer from the peacock’s tail, feeling the pulse of the World tick away as the fearless pray to someone new. Your countenance, I interlaced with feathered fingers Depicts movements, curves. A shame to be without Language to fill the contours of a nebulaic expression Or swindling modifications. You put me here. My eyes anyway. Expecting me to retire along with buildings for your worship Powdery paint has spilled and faded along with Others who have modified your appearance, their someone new. Even as the shadows swells A million replicates of Io, moo and sway home, tired from the Beating sun, to which eyes remain fixed. One momentary memory visits. Vision simulate traces of wonder, travelling on Pathways believed to be conquerable. The people have learned What I have not. They pause, breathe.
Continue reading...
31
Swirling twirling My life is whirling My stomach is churning And my head is spinning I feel fantastic The comprehension, nobody has it My mood is somewhat lactic Well, without the acid. Nothing can deter my mood Not even if, to me, one were rude. I'd simply look at you And say "calm down dude." But alas I know this feeling will not last My happiness will not end fast But like all good things, it will come to an end. You see, there are demons out there Nobody knows where But they always show up Leaving you like "what the chuck?" But I'm ready When they come, my voice shall be steady My body may be shaking But my will not breaking These demons are always on the attack When you think they're gone, they come back They come so much I've lost track And often with some distasteful hack. But happiness and hope never go away Like Pandora's Box, there's still hope to show Everyone is a Pandora's Box They just need to know.
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Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
Pandora's Box
Thirteen thousand strides progress Blind leathern tread with gritted teeth Stride hard rough bracken heather strive Incipient thought embrace the scarp Bent shoulder strain web strap entrench Sharp body lean oppose the wind Slow pitch forward cold lash rain Pause..Shrug pack .. Lurch on again Rough rock scrape pass Sharp edge hand scrape Each tread ascend dull lactic ache Stone eyes cast up Embrace dark peak Surge on .. Dig in.. Embrace the pain Aggressive stance.. find strength begin Engage the enemy entrenched within With comrades in adversity Side glance reveal Grey brother tight Mordant ploughshare gleaming bright United thought strong purpose right Grim grimace glower grinding on Helping hand support and share Exchang-ed glances sing the pain Relentless climb advance distain Strong ******* stride bogged into mire Grappling cragfast handclasp dire   Entropic  spirit brief despair Revelatory cause unswayed Each cloistered personal crusade Burst upwards into sunlight flame And stand with vision intertwined Each grim companion lasting friend Eyes meet brief recognition shout We know what it’s all about These clasping minds Empath embrace Profound cognitive self aware To follow where few others dare These comrades in adversity
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Oct 30, 2009
Oct 30, 2009 at 7:24 AM UTC
The Hill
I am still trying my best. Stretching my legs to the coastline, lactic shackles of inertia are cast off. I remember the ease of animating these young limbs- concrete strut, woodland walk; it is hard to think of you much these days, even in the confines of unread books and filter coffee. I have forgotten you, your blue dress, your punting on the Thames. There are harder habits than caffeine and rich women. As Ol' Tom Waits says, “you don't meet nice girls in coffee shops.” The glass roof of the arcade offers translucent sunlight, a high-street retreat from the nature of the sea, all mankind's institutionalisation, all these walls and closing times, bigger names over bigger signs. I am still a rare sight of youth amongst the patient, ringed eyes of those book-shop loyalists; a choir of silver on their heads, acquired wisdom of faded routines, old laughter etched like the Nazca Lines in their faces, lips eroded and pale; sexless in the fluorescent lighting. Breathing spaces where life exists are always held closest to the fear of death. I am still finding a clean way of living, a way to accept my place, my face in the mirror of my self-hate, anxious words and half-conscious recollections; the remnants and scars from asphyxiation – old drownings: the sorrow that separated myself from others, the sorrow that separated you and I, you and I. Your pursuit of a well-ticked time-sheet, my love for sentiments that rhyme. I have learned the patterns of the waves, the way money is exchanged. Oh, my dearest depression, my ache for acceptance. My endless, endless ocean of blue can be sad, so sad, but it can be beautiful too.
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May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
Coffee At Waterstones II
I am still trying my best. Stretching my legs to the coastline, lactic shackles of inertia are cast off. I remember the ease of animating these young limbs- concrete strut, woodland walk; it is hard to think of you much these days, even in the confines of unread books and filter coffee. I have forgotten you, your blue dress, your punting on the Thames. There are harder habits than caffeine and rich women. As Ol' Tom Waits says, “you don't meet nice girls in coffee shops.” The glass roof of the arcade offers translucent sunlight, a high-street retreat from the nature of the sea, all mankind's institutionalisation, all these walls and closing times, bigger names over bigger signs. I am still a rare sight of youth amongst the patient, ringed eyes of those book-shop loyalists; a choir of silver on their heads, acquired wisdom of faded routines, old laughter etched like the Nazca Lines in their faces, lips eroded and pale; sexless in the fluorescent lighting. Breathing spaces where life exists are always held closest to the fear of death. I am still finding a clean way of living, a way to accept my place, my face in the mirror of my self-hate, anxious words and half-conscious recollections; the remnants and scars from asphyxiation – old drownings: the sorrow that separated myself from others, the sorrow that separated you and I, you and I. Your pursuit of a well-ticked time-sheet, my love for sentiments that rhyme. I have learned the patterns of the waves, the way money is exchanged. Oh, my dearest depression, my ache for acceptance. My endless, endless ocean of blue can be sad, so sad, but it can be beautiful too.
Continue reading...
49
I look up to the mountains where does my help come from? sliding rocks, slithering snakes Life's patches, wailing winds thorns in my flesh cliffs taunt my feet Serpent hisses all the while all I see is steep punishment all I feel is lactic burn the air thin I have no fleshly kin "carry me Eagle, fly me high!" I yearned but Eagle responds echoeingly "your footprints carried you all the way, but through the Way you will have learned" I look up to the sky His words  lifted me I look up to the sky where does my help come from? Eagle, how high now am thee? gone is the Serpent Eagle's cross shaped shadow sweeps over me bright light above me "well  done  my  faithful  servant" said the Source where help cometh from I soar on wings like Eagle, lactic burn leaves my soul I run and don't grow weary I saw where help came from.
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Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC
My hope in the Mountain
the wind whips at your back like a slave master; the water trots at your feet like a dog scorned; the pavement shoves at your being like a puberty-struck bully. this violence is what you live for, the constant back and forth, back and forth, of man vs. nature vs. man vs. self round and round and round you go, laps at the criterium, muscle memory firing, lactic acid eliciting yearnings of tranquility you push yourself on just one more, just one more, never allowing yourself respite as though you were fleeing Death herself.
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May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
Samuel Bennett
I don't write poems because I'm worried you'll think they're "good" I write poems because I can't do heart surgery I write songs because I need my poems to sound a different way Not because I'll get laid if I read this **** at a slam or after I play a set If you're worried I'm just in this for the praise or the money, don't I'd have it better as a doctor or a lawyer if that was my goal I write because I have nothing else burning within me Except for the occasional case of heartburn or lactic acid (I am human) I can only observe and report, and augment, and adapt In a world of chaos, in a world beyond qualification and adaptation Where truth is a perspective and frameworks cage our knowledge I can only assess outside of this cage, I can only claim land in fallow soil, and attempt to quench myself with mirages of Oasis I'm trying to drink from a dribble cup, my **** keeps spilling out I love fiercely and speak brashly, I can't keep it contained so tell me how full of **** I am, or tell me I'm convoluted and I'll keep trying to quench my thirst in a dry spell The desert will listen either way.
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 6:22 AM UTC
The Desert and the Cup
I jog through memory lane With lactic acid welling in my chest But euphoric nonetheless.
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May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
High
There is a churning, spurning surge like sickly sushi or bad first dates rollercoasters Take it slow, I say take it no more than two days at a time like when your brother slipped, fell fell fell down the basement steps Remember that? Let it fester lactic acid Let it drown Let it bloat Then make your chalk outline of feelings deceased Let it waver or whimper or wallow but don't let it go. This is the beginning of your next great write.
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Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
Invest
perhaps the lactic acid in your muscles serves as a rude reminder --in the form of ache-- the way you had forced, overexerted yourself --to go the extra mile-- just to (literally) run away from your problems
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Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
reminders
Sore shoulders and weak knees, my body is trying to tell me something. Lactic acid is building up in my muscles, settling in my bones: the end to the cycle. Tomorrow will begin a theater of interactions that matter, I should take a lesson in concentration. This isn't what I want, I yearn for the aches, I love the uncomfort. Busy work makes me dismissive, and the people don't help either. Smooth-brained and simple minded, it's just a future version of what could become of me. An inch lift under foot is enough to ignite my intuition. A weaker version of myself negotiates with my newly forming self: offering dull reward and a safe spot reserved for my passive pleasure. Real life low lives are enough to show me what I want. Sore shoulders and weak knees, they beg me to stop. But I didn't ask their opinion.
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May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 3:02 AM UTC
Sore Shoulders and Weak Knees
the constant  pounding as my cleats repeatedly hit the grass and the lactic acid frees itself the constant  pounding of the blood as it rushes through my spinning head the constant  pounding as I see two of the person in front of me the constant  pounding as I push my jelly filled legs to keep going the constant  pounding as I push them even harder than before the constant  pounding of my heaving lungs as I try to **** in more oxygen the constant  pounding of my body as I fall over the finish line
0
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
finish line
Spent 4 dollars on the light gun game in the Barcade, and beat it, and there are no high scores, just 2am and sore eyes and lactic acid in the elbow. We're all rats chewing holes in the ship we stow away on. Sinking in a desperate hunger. You don't know me, and, so... don't pretend to anymore. You don't talk much, I don't talk much. So, we don't talk much. Yet, somehow, everything is "fine". [citation needed] Singing in the passenger side this time, sitting on the vocals for the perfect song, waiting to make you cry. I am your doll, full of needles; We fight by cuddling in armor padded with barbed wire and thorns. Mutilated "lovers". [citation needed] Cold wars and cold tongues and shoulders, and tired of all the ******** but whatever. Everything's ******** now. Nothing is fine, or good, or okay...
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Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 3:08 AM UTC
"...At Least Not to Me."
There’s a road sign that one sometimes passes on the country roads of Quebec a child lying still on his side next to the road And the words read “This child could be your own” though of course they are written in French But you’d rather add brine to an overabundance of peas peppers and zucchinis stuff them safely away in a dark spot in the kitchen cabinet in a mason jar and wait for the lactic acid tang to bring out the pickle These pickles are living things you know and you can almost taste them with their garlic and dill But instead you think about snake ***** and how it might smell The child will be fine you say he’ll grow up to be an insurance broker get a divorce at 43 and when he’s eighty-four his toes will be like gherkins his nails infected with fungus and he’ll remember that day when he played dead.
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Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 6:53 PM UTC
pickles
Radiator like hot breath reminding you of something wrong, stinging teeth, sweat and sore muscles built up with lactic acid, a changing and slightly more favorable wind Central air, central heat some unsung heroes and sparks of something new, are you sure there aren't spikes in my drink, there's sharp pains in my throat How was it supposed to feel, can't find the right sounds and the room stinks of hot leather stretched over decaying bones
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Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
Condensing, expanding
Slip into the viscous stream of starched fabric knowing I belong not here, ever the dissonant clef rattling its bar Presence coaxes the parched throat but slakes not the gut's burn. I have learnt to swallow the fireballs I fear may wayward fly Lactic oblivion strains the milk, scrubbing out taints of blossom-red Speak, so their shunted breaths return trembling to the lips. There is nothing to see, hear, this drum echoes with ghosts you fathom not Twice weekly I cross over to the past, fleeting high-breasted gryphon among the bright-eyed hatchlings. Then the summons of the bell Reality strikes as lightning; the boom that trails it is the singed silence of the mute mind
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Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
Seeker
lactic on the tongue numbing at instance of longing. drawing lightness of me lost to erosion of this life. All in Daylight. somnambulent in the garden nodding at the poppy heart falling into dilated eyes. a journey rounded by a dream.... of chasing white monkeys' tails
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Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
poppy tear
boys and girls like oil and water meet in the electric darkness a ritual as old as time set to the pounding of mechanical drums boys and girls they don't see it but they are each other fatally flawed to perfection and they see something a spark off the flint and they mistake it for love because they allow each other to love themselves boys and girls hiding from men and women try not to grow up but a broken clock is right twice a day and they have run out of hiding places their limbs burning with lactic acid they finally see the toxic insignia a skull and crossbones no warning labels this will **** you so they separate and you'd better believe that it was ugly as hell yelling and screaming and violence all in the name of self-loathing boys and girls just looking for somebody who is looking for them
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Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC
boys and girls
Last Of The Season So trifling – Going out and berry-picking. Then at once your eyes pick out What mind does not. Fruits few, and you’ve A doubled effort, Legs now filled with lactic acid For the berries are so separate, so far apart And so far spread that you’ve a stretch To pick one cluster And an equal mental strength To muster. Berries big but water-filled, You fill your pail with ease and skill Glad that you own much ground And have such land to walk around. You know that you have filed your last Holes, hills and hindrances regardless. Stumbling – but it’s spongy, Falling – but it’s mossy, You’ve succeeded, Your success half-litered and not needed; You’ve already liters lidded. Temperature about to drop Already showing signs of dipping, Wind is up And there is no conclusive feeling; Berries that are season’s last! You hope you’ll be alive and kicking Next year when it’s time for picking, Now that picking time seems past. Last Of The Season 9.2.2016 Circling Round Nature II; Birth, Death & In Between II; Arlene Corwin
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Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 11:26 AM UTC
Last Of The Season