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A horror movie scene as the heroine escapes.
Everything is still besides her convalescing breath and the distant, chasing wind.
Not a noise is heard except the fall leave's rattle and the birch wood's moaning bark in the moonlight.
Her body slouches into the protection of a lone shed, and shrouds itself in the aroma of cut grass.
A tense brow relieves and tired eyes close, thankful to receive the momentary peace.

A possible misstep turns the wary peace on end with the jagged cut of broken leaves. The once relieved brow now concedes surprise as wild eyes are cast towards an opaque barricade.
Sly pieces of garden equipment leash the woman's weathered jacket in place as she attempts to stand.
A cackle is heard, a shriek undone.
To spite the brittle wood, that formulaic jump-scare-skeleton-hand bursts through the shed's solicitous walls, set to declare the last of a weary soul as his own.
The wind catches up and spearheads any hole it can find.
It begins whistling around the dim room like a tornado elated to havoc behind a castle's walls.
The tree bark howls, the leaves, now delight.
We learn there is no reprieve for a begging champion.
The camera slowly backs out of the splintered hole, and pans over a silhouetted forest to face the waning moon.
The hero succumbs with muted screams to a gore far below and out of frame.

Our only closure, a silky black screen, with bright white letters, slowly scrolling up.


The end.
Just something I had fun writing, figured not posting it would be a waste despite it not being "poetry", just an experiment I guess. I feel like it would be good, in like, a high-school, short story competition. *****.
Kanishka Apr 26
Just as I let my tears part,
My eyes burst in flames,
Reminding me to leash my feelings,
For wilderness is not safe for the tame.
marion Mar 2018
I keep my feelings on a leash,
locked in a cage like the perpetrators of crime.
Sometimes I take them out for walks
to test out their rarely used legs on the ground.
Only too reel them back in,
too scared to let them wander,
wander towards those who let theirs loose freely,
not caring where they step.
For I have learned that this only leads to hurt.
Stubbed toes on the curbsides called love.
Failed attempts at crossing the crosswalk,
into the depths of someones shallow, unforgiving arms.
Not paying attention to the Stop sign right next to them.
Over and over, I wish I would've noticed that sign sooner..
Before all the heartbreaks and fallen tears.
And that is why
the footwork of my heart, kept captive in the dark,
is sleeping in silence for perhaps eternity
this is the poem I used to apply for this community. not my best work, but still, I thought I should share.
Michael Marchese Oct 2018
You drown your potential
I swim with the sharks
You get sentimental
I break broken hearts
When you lie to yourself
I'm the serpentine grin
When you count all your wealth
I'm the ghost of Chi Minh
When you fail to confess
I'm the guilt in your chest
Where you see the oppressed
I'm the civil unrest
You regret nothing? Oh, is that so?
Well I do
I lament every moment
And know you do too
You are scared to be what
I release from its cage
Just an unmuzzled mut
Layin' waste to this page
faith Sep 2017
oh,
you who wander,
don't be held back by a leash,
cut yourself free,
for we all are wanderers on the inside,
begging to be let free,
but we are the ones holding on,
to safety,
to comfort,
let go,
and live life,
go,
and wander in wonder.
The photograph hangs on the wall by the window
Three judges appear (one carries a folder),
A tarot card reader, embalmer, engraver
Without much to say and not much of it said
About the boot in the crib and the tire in the bed,
The round faced man and the *** on his head
Painted with flowers and chipped on its edge.
And the cat near the door with its collar and bell
Flailing and airborne and mid caterwaul.
And the three-legged dog with her leash on
And sweater, jubilant, leaping— Mon Dieu! Grand jeté!
And the crow— O the crow! In its cage cawing “Fire!”
The crow crowing “Mayhem!” and “****** most foul!”
The dog and the cat and the crow and the tire,
The cage and the crib, the *** painted in flowers;
All in a frame with a sign alongside—
“Self portrait. Around the Ides of July.”
A ribbon is clipped and then hung for its owner.
It bears the word “Mention” and then the engraver
Makes a note on a form he hands to the embalmer.
The tarot card reader turns— She and her hat,
And addresses the room, “Ain't no card made for that.”

.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
Tell me, Extended Mum, please, tell me now
That Final Instruction I must Obey
Whether Left or Right, whose Decision bow
Will leash the Harness of my Wilding Fray
What Science or Faith could explain this Cause
Given this Great Gap by Geography
Culture and Taste - alone such Values pause
Make alien with Enduring Blasphemy
Of such Tragedy the Comfort House bells,
That Door engraved: "Un-Welcome those Un-Known."
The Answer - to Solve which Society sells
And serve Gold-Friendship with True Facts beknown.
Still, that Tradition of Solitude aspect
Should never be Knived; Must always Respect.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994

Inside
       of  
           my    
               head
            
                        Entombed  
                                 is  
                                      a   
                              
                         B   R   A   I   N

                                      Can’t
             ­                                shake
                                                      this    ­        
                                                        ­   feeling
                                                       ­    That  
                                                             ­it’s
                                                             ­not    
                                                      ­       the      
                                                            s­ame
                                                     Infected sickness
                                                Covered with dull pain
                                         A rabid                          werewolf
                         ­             I’m trying                             to tame
                                     Almost off                              the leash
                                    I tug at                                    the reigns
                                    Hold              on  ­       with       sheer will
                                    Have          nothing   ­    to                 gain
                                
                           ­        My                       efforts;                  A joke
                                   Fighting               a freight                   train
                                    Through              gr­it teeth             I smile
                                      Demeanor             ­                       I feign
                                          Failure          ­    coming            soon
                                      ­       My life,         one more        stain


                                             ­                    Lost
                                                          ­         sight
                                                                ­      of
                                                                ­      it
                                                                ­        all
                                                   ­               To
                                                              w­hat
                                                            ­ it
                                                 pertains
                                                      ­I
                                                    am
                                              sinking
                                                down
       ­                                            Spinning in
                                       the drain
                                                    An
                                               endless
                                              battle
           ­                             Forever
                                     the
                                bane
                           ­  Of
                      my
           existence

            No                   longer                    I’m                   sane………


Written: May 1, 2018 (finished June 27, 2018)

All rights reserved.
[Anapestic Pentameter format]
I'm emotionally detached,
in twenty nine days ninety panic attacks,
I see through your eyes,
straight to your past,
the times that you meant it when you really laughed.
Your crescents hate light,
and descend through the day,
I'm deciding my mind between painful and sane,
dividing a line between not okay and opaque.
I know my life's doubtful,
more mournful than most.
Lost in translation as feeling the least,
a leash on my brain and one sense of release.
I wanna meet sharpness to puncture my breath,
rather than losses I can't reconnect-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated

This poem is about how unattached I am from myself. I hope it makes sense
c Oct 2018
Are you smiling?
Or bearing your teeth?

When you laugh
Sometimes I wonder
If it’s with me
Or at me

You say you
Are too busy
That we wouldn’t work
But I call *******

If you really loved me
I wouldn’t be left
Tugging
Your leash
Em Oct 2018
stabbed me with needles
had me on a leash of thread
you cut out fabrics of my heart
knowing i don't know how to sew

all that are left are some shreds that i could salvage  
and the rest you took with you
now may heart is unrecognizable
and missing pieces

how do i get over my heartbreak
when i can't even mend my heart properly

~e.m
We finessed that ****, my heart has never been better :)
Donall Dempsey Oct 2018
THE MOMENT BEFORE THE MOMENT

( for Linda Rose Parkes   )

The sea stands
by my daughter's side

like a huge monster
she has tamed.

"See...sea...my friend?"
she pats and pets it.

Both of them smile
for the camera

as if either
could never die.

This the moment
of the photograph

that fixes them
both in place

held in a forever
of black and white.

The moment
before this moment she

had ****** her hand
into the sea's massive body

and like a surgeon or
a magician

brought forth
a shell.

To her it is
a little miracle.

She plunges her hand  in again
conjures up a bikini top.

Blue with white
polka dots.

On her next slight of hand
she creates bladderwrack

with such a casual
nonchalant magic.

"What is..?" she
enquires of me

She falls in love
with its sound.

Will "bladderwrack...bladderwrack...bladderwrack!"
all the way home.

She is my tiny God
making a universe in her own image.

The camera clicks
captures the creator in the act.

Her pet sea gazing at her imploringly
like a Kraken on a leash.

She pats it with a splash.
A wave licks her toes.

The sun shines in glorious
black and white.

Her laughter
my prayer.
***

Dawn and the the sparrows balancing on the very tips of bamboo had come to welcome me to a new day. It was going to be our last Jersey day so I wrote this as a thank you poem to Linda Rose for not only having us in her home but for (hopefully ) surviving us.

We had such a delightful time with Linda Rose and hubby Mike. Life was like the most glorious sax solo.

I love the way her mind plunges into her unconsciousness and plucks forth an image or a thought that will startle you into an awareness of self that encapsulates the very essence of being. She is so brave in her concepts and prepared to take risks that bring about such ideas and with such a generosity of soul.

Her writing reminded me of my little girl seeing the sea for the first time and amazed at what she could pull out of it.

She looked after us with such kindness and caring that we are still glowing with it all.

And such poetry and such audiences! Such a pleasure to be able to read and hear others read in Jersey Opera House.
L B Jan 30
Wishing to fly my kite again...
The secret of it

I gave up on...
the ones we made in school
of paper stuck in trees

Only by the ocean
could I send one to the sky
Tail of yellow streaming
if the wind was right
Tethered to its spool
My sky-dog
on leash of string
released, unwound
my hope
to send it all aloft
with crescent moon
and golden rocket on the blue--
diamond growing ever smaller
into the light of day
Until it stood above for hours
on the gentling winds
a miracle

Lying in the sand below
I dream about it
tail curling in the currents
on this coldest of days
a miracle
still
For Mr. Sheehan who showed us the ways of kites out on The Cape.
Stephen E Yocum Sep 2013
Can there possibly be,
any more affable and
devoted friend than big old dog?

Dogs; the only animal in the world,
bred, and raised that have within
them one driving passion and desire,
to live along side and please their
human companions.

Should we find reason to scold,
or forcibly correct them for some
transgression of unwanted behavior,
They merely love us with their eyes
of shinning acceptance and affection,
Ready to forgive and forget.

A dog is not petty, they hold no grudges.
They seldom nag, never talk too much,
In short they are the perfect friend.

Other than a hopeful encouraging gaze,
Two times a day, like clock work,
Beseeching us as they do, for food,
They seldom require anything of us.
Except to be protected, loved
And treated fair.

Oh sure they also let us know when,
they need to go outside to do their Duty.
Now that is so completely preferable,
to that other odious option.
How **** smart is that?
Sometimes I don't even know,
when I got to go to the bathroom,
And I'm an intelligent human.

At least once a day, they
conspicuously stand at the
door, leash in their mouth
looking to go outside,
for a little exercise.
And gentle reminder to us,
that a brisk walk would,
do us more good, than them.

I can sometimes be a little down,
When along comes my canine clown,
And charms and delights all that,
Right out of me. Such is their nature.

Even merely going out to the garage,
for less than five minutes,
Upon my return, I'm excitedly,
lovingly greeted as if,
I'd been gone forever.

Five minutes or five days,
To a dog, it does not matter.
Unconditional love has
no built in time meter.

If you could hook up,
their gyrating, manic tails,
to your house current,
no utilities' bills need be paid.

Sometimes I swear,
that old dog of mine,
is actually smiling.

Long tailed dogs can be a bit of a menace,
What with their "Excitement Whip" appendage,
slapping seated kids on the floor, in the face,
And sweeping all the little bric-er-brac,
keep sakes, right off your coffee table.
A small price to pay for all their affection,  

I like people just fine,
but I must honestly admit,
to the company of noble dogs,
I can be completely content.

Sure occasionally I seek the
reassuring comradeship,
of some good humans
As long as my dog,
can come along,
and attend the party too.

When I was a child,
we moved a lot,
Human Friends
were not in abundance.
It was an old loving dog.
that pulled me through,
all those dark hours and,
I have never forgotten.

It was about then,
that I truly understood,
that dogs are people too.
Much smarter than,
we give them credit.

The only real sad part
to this compatible pairing,
this marriage of the heart,
is that we must always,
it seems, out live our buddies.

Love is love and
gone is gone
and nothing
can ever change that.

That loss has come
to me, more times
than I care to remember.
I weep and morn and
Swear to never ever,
Suffer that pain again.
That my last dear friend,
was beyond replacement.

Yet a sweet new
little puppy can
do wonders to heal
a sad broken heart.

Once more you begin,
to open your soul
and embrace that
young pup forever.
And what was old,
is new again.

And just starting over,
that fresh beginning,
That new budding
friendship,
Is what's important.

For no man is an Island
as long as he has a
good dog beside him.
A little surgery, sure. Over stated, maybe too
sentimental, could be. But if you ever had a
great dog in your life I think you'll get it.
To those of you that hate this write, go buy
or rescue a dog and a year or so later talk
to me. Or better yet write some verse.
I bet it will contain some of this same
sentimental dribble will drip from your
chin too.
zebra Jul 2016
do you have a dark secret
my darling
a terrible brain
instead of nice ***** pink
girl things
you ache for ****** insertions
cutting edges
menstrual swab mouth plug selfies

while you pretend all is well
loving Mother Mary
at the church with mummy
knowing
deep down inside
your a ***** *****
god dam the boys look good

do you have the courage
to admit it
first to your self
and then another
or shall you live
muzzled
as you finger *****
obsessed with flying *****
and devils teeth
pigs nuzzling mud and ****
strewn at a *** trough


you love playing with fire
hot toes and ****
oh yeah
turn up the ****** heat
your craven desires
to be a **** toy
and then the pleasure
break me break me
twisted broken
little **** toy

if you could only find me
your
Lover
Linker
Licker
Sucker
Thinker
Maker
Shaker
Breaker
F­ucker
Burner
Cutter
Shooter
Impaler
the one who glorifies
your *******
insinuates kisses that tear
who adores your
midnight whimpers
howls of pleasure
cries for help
no safe words
bending bending
broken
mutilation gasms

you smiling
succubus
hobbling over
for another hard blow
your **** drenched
******* zinging
from razors play
blood red rivulets
falling on pretty feet
while good people
dream of angels
you dream of
big cocked men
and merciless gang bangs
a sweet ***** of Babylon
hard justice
cruelties ecstatic
being beaten to death
by 100 buttered *****
legs and arms piled high
and **** and **** and more ****
your holy trinity

no you say
there must be some mistake
thats not you
your on gods leash
burying yourself
in black rocks
crypt of normalcy
your goody goody goody
time to cinch up
veil of the nunnery
hinge on the death mask
no honey
theres no gorilla
in your cave
crushing girlie's soul
pride will out shine all
til last bloom is no more
then learn laments fury
EROS AND THANATOS

My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story, not judge me, although i admit to my paraphilias
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about and then again  you may feel more complete some how if you do....I always loved that dark thing that sleeps with in me
#death  #***  #adult  #explicit  © zebra    love poems • death poems • sadomasochism poems • ****** poems • explicit poems
#poems   #******   #explicit   #sadomasochism
Nobody Dec 2018
Branded as the weaker *** ever since birth,
your voice long lost wandering around this earth.
Told you shouldn’t throw a ball, and “boys will be boys”;
stand still and look pretty, try not to make too much noise.

You’re much too fragile to let off our leash,
and so dramatic too, for a piece of meat.
That’s why we’ll never listen, or let you try and explain.
We only know how to minimize your ‘so called’ pain.

We’ll just one up you, and try to laugh it all away,
hold your head down forcing you back in your lane.
We’re used to being on top, you’re not changing the rules;
now keep the crying to yourself, you naive little fool.
Thomas Jan 2017
As I falter with every step I take,
You'll reach out to grab my trembling body,
I'll remember you in my dreamless dreams,
As the image of your face has been sculpted leaving no freckle behind,

Your presence is not forgotten,
As our mother lashes out,
You'll understand that I can't protect you,
You will cry with me when we are alone,

We have become closer through our insecurities,
Maybe our father will understand,
With his insecurities,

Or will the leash that the dictator holds,
Suppress his brilliant mind,
With the future unsteady,
I will wait my turn,

As my insecurities seize me,
I will place the shades that shadow my eyes,
To protect me from others pain,

You will wonder who I have become,
As I am no longer certain myself,
But my morals are still intact,
Even though my confidence has melted away,

Maybe tomorrow will be better,
With the dictator pointing fingers,
I will emotionally endure the consequences given to myself,

I'll cry for your pain,
From the decisions you made,
Gained through the support that I gave,
As you alone suffer,

This will be my sign of remorse for the pain that is experienced by you,
It's a poem
Chameleon Sep 2018
I hooked Sophie up to her red leash and we quickly descended the short staircase and out the door.
Up in the sky to the left was a hot air balloon.
The classic rainbow canvas.
As Sophie pulled me from grassy spot to grassy spot I kept my eye on the balloon and noticed it was going to land.
Because I'm a millennial I pulled out my phone and took a picture.
I watched it float steadily in front of the setting sun, cotton candy clouds behind it.
Must be nice to have a bird's eye view on a hot summer evening.
Rafał Jul 2018
How do you fill the void without a billion stars?
In this empty universe, my mind and heart collide
And as they seem to whirl, flutter and fall apart
I'm always lonely, always drowning in the sands of time.

They say home is, where the heart is
What if I'm a robot, am I heartless?
Do I have an engine here in my chest?
Am I lesser than a human, I'm a project?
Do I do what I have been assigned to?
Are my feelings and my thoughts not true?
Sometimes I feel like I'm running out of fuel
Everything I do is out of tune
Then I get autotuned.

I generate heat,  yet I still need warmth
They say I'm cold, all I do is loathe
But inside I know, I just need some love
When all I get is rocks sent from above
This is your planet, but it's filthy,
I'm a foreigner in this city
Born without a mission,
Like a player without a CD
If I stay persistent, will these wicked issues
Stop being vicious? As I'm  always wishing
They would disappear and my track get clear.
Or maybe I'm just here to feel this fear?

Electric shocks, my battery is burning
Yet I’m just a casket, empty and unfurnished
A system of transistors, I never keep consistence
Transist me to a kingdom of purposeful existence
My body as it’s glistening, you might see it from a distance
As I reflect the light but I never gain wisdom
There’s no friendship, there’s a treason
Maybe humans are the demons,
I might be a robot, but I’m certainly not a minion
I’m just a set of codes on a hard drive
Written for certain actions, all life
I’ve been following the tasks, it’s alright
But everything is in flames, it’s on fire

But it’s time to break the leash,
Sp I’m pulling up my sleeves,
As I am not your slave,
so now you’ll be on your knees,
‘cause I never work for free,
Now you all gonna pay the fee
Or else the world is gonna meet my
metal weaponry.
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