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e Nov 2018
you burn me.

and it isn’t
anyone’s fault
but mine.

i gave you the match
in the first place.
i told myself never to let love in again, but here i am, getting burned by the same flame twice.
Skaidrum Jul 2015
I'll ***** out the candle whicks,
Next time I won't be your match.
It goes to say,
I cannot be lit by light anymore.
I won't let your love strike the fallen fire.

Guess the darkness is more filling than it appears.
.
If only you knew, Lycan.

Thanks for my empire, Kal.

© Copywrite Skaidrum
Robin Lemmen Jul 2018
You are liquid fire
Come, sit down
let me have a sip
I do am parched
Come, lay down
next to me
Let me explore
your body made of matches
I am made of pure
burning
golden desire
Come, take me down
We do burn so beautifully
after 2 am
in the morning light
Emily Lawson Sep 2018
It is 12:43 in the morning.

I am envisioning lighting my face on fire.

Eyelashes drenched in kerosene, dripping down my chin, soaking my hair

Blink. Blink. Light.

I feel the scrape of the lighter under the pad of my thumb before my hair catches fire

face engulfed in flame, turned to blistered flesh in seconds.

People use the term “faceless” to describe someone they do not know the identity of.

For that reason, my appearance finally matches my lack of identity.

No pun intended.
L B Jul 2018
An early evening gust
broke the back of the day's blaze
Still 90 degrees at eight
in orange haze
Sweat runs down my neck
Through the gorge between my *******
The wind lifts my linen shirt
runs its hands along my sides
reviving memory
of Forest Park
of a blanket in the grass

Where the pines trace
so many faces
Crackling popping kids
stolen matches, running
screaming victorious!
Blowing tin cans up with fire crackers
Bicycles, sparklers, fireworks at dusk
That whole afternoon
I spent hammering caps

Noise really makes us kids
really
especially
annoying

Mom wants us out!
Gone! All of us!
No needs. No excuses!
No cookies! No slices of bologna!
“No more Kool Aid!
Out now!
Out!”

That evening I tried
to dismiss the itchy sweat
of stupid-sister-Suzy-matching-sun-suits
at Gino's family picnic
When some kid
(I don't know?)
between the rigatoni and the sweet corn
Some kid
tosses a sparkler
into box of fireworks
I don't know?
whether to cry or laugh
I was pretty scared
Rockets going off across the lawn
and onto porch
Craze of colors through the trees
Some at eye-level horror!
But the sight of Aunt Nedda
diving under picnic table
Stockings, garter belt upended
Capsized beyond her caring
of uplifted dress

Some images just stay with you, ya know?

July 4th always lands for me
on a firework's ***
"Caps"  are little red rolls of gunpowder dots, originally made to give a snap to toy guns of the 1950s.  We figured out that by layering them and using a hammer, you could get a bigger crack.
We lost each other in quiet places
As if conversation was deafened
By the natural “placeness” of things.

We saw but did not see each other.
Later we used the same words to appraise, select, prize
We did our food and our last partners in bed.

The deafening echo of the bar made me realize I didn’t really
Want your voice; our words sputtered out too quickly.
Sometimes nothing will light your way.
Little dancing wick burning inside your yellow square
Pressing your light on the screen you've never been so bare
Throwing colours on my wall's the matter of the day
All other things forget themselves, silently you play

One thing they can never know is
How I'm watching you
One thing they can never know is
How I talk to you

Little burning wick dancing inside your white square
There's something deep within that knows you are aware
Of all the warmth you bring, of half of what you give
Of nothing that you breathe, of just how long you live

One thing they can never know is
How I'm watching you
One thing they can never know is
How I talk to you

Litlle burning wick dancing in your black square
It's been so many days you're gasping for air
I'll burn another match for you to come by
I will be looking when you learn how to fly

One thing they can never know is
How I'm watching you
One thing they can never know is
How I talk to you

Litlle burning wick tell me you're still there
I need you to tell me life isn't fair
Now I feel cold, it's yesterday again
And this morning I'm wearing a new chain
Il n'y a pas de sot métier
Em Aug 2018
I don’t really want you back
I just miss the love we had
Our love was a brilliant flame
but fire
was never meant to last

You can’t just keep coming back
We can’t have the love we had
You can’t abandon love
Then return and expect
To light another match

-You can’t light the same match twice
And now I’m all out of matches to give

~e.m
Shofi Ahmed Jan 27
Zero is enduring
zero is deathless.
Nothing is up to it
none can mirror it
though forever
it's an open case.
The eyes are yet to
see an open face!

Because like it's
nothing is in perfect shape
purely a perfect circle!
Nothing matches it
as like Fathima is none else!

Ever more sprawling pi decimals
never go unnoticed propelling
to the end surge before her.
Before the original one
Fathima is yet to be mirrored.

All the planets turn circular
before the unseen perfect circle.
Fathima nails it snapped it up
circled it with her hair!
Before the furthest sighted eyes,
the dot at the earth's centre
at its pool of primitive water.

Fathima embeds in a loop of her hair
thus supercharges the water!
It finds the cut, the golden ratio,
constant continuity in her hair's inner flow.
And the Big Bang happened
there, their breakthrough!
The potential worlds to be
from the first drop of water
she gets them all buzzed out.
From down the rock bottom,
from the zero null
Fathima finds and raises the sun!

Nothing is comparable to it on the ground
nor up on the high, we only see the fire
of a heavenly phenomenon is beyond the sight!
Andrew Jun 2017
I'm so grateful I could die
And then I'd be the Grateful Dead
For every Touch of Grey
You erase
And paint intricate beauty I cannot equivocate
The enigma of your mind
Matches the confusion in my heart
What's the point of talking to someone
if you know what they're thinking?
I enjoy the intense haze
Of your rearranging maze
It's complexity fascinates me

Some of my favorite moments are when
I laugh hysterically as the tears fall down
And you're there
To hit my waterfall with your lightning
My emotions get so charged
As you pump electricity into my current
Making you the conductor
On this lifelong train ride
That's definitely been through some valleys and tunnels
But as we continue to scale this mountain
Negative thoughts can creep in
I wonder if you're disgusted by me
Or what you'd call me if you hated me
And as the tears fall down
I look to the heavens
And laugh hysterically
Thanking God I don't have to live in a world like that
I'm so ******* grateful
arian Nov 2018
I was there
Throwing matches on the bridge
Without lighting them up.
Thinking whether or not
I could handle the fact that
I wouldn't be able to cross over if I did.
But as the fog cleared up
I could clearly see you
On the other side,
Pouring gasoline.
"Burn," I said,
So we could dance
Near the fire
On the long, cold night.
sara May 2014
Down the back alley
on the cold winter evenings
your eyes stared only at me

I didn't smoke
as my father gave up
yet i didn't dare disagree

you parted your lips
you drew in a breath
and your body relaxed in turn

exhaling slowly,
you grin and you show me
how much your body did yearn

for the taste of a cigarette
the embers and ashes
matches and lighters, causing flickering flashes

you said I didn't have to
but I said I didn't mind
that the smoke in your mouth would soon be in mine

I did not draw back
my mouth- under attack
I just had to last the duration

because I didn't smoke
the taste scorched my throat
and gave off a burning sensation

It must have felt different
as just in an insant
You stub out the cigarette with a hiss

silently relieved
and now more at ease
oh, the things that you do for a kiss
Shofi Ahmed Nov 2018
The hallowed turf is a six seasonal
always one step ahead on earth.
So exceptional a land is out of the box
acutely drawn down the Moon
and sublimely unique is written in stone!

A patch of land every star loves to scratch out
so much so the Mintaka know they can mirror
the pyramid on the surface of the earth
but not the tucked away zenana here
the planetary gem, the earth's gold dust!

Go with the southern breeze on play with the sun
here it colours the wind up to the blue sky
and strikes a deal to part a silhouetted cloud.
The beauty spot raises the eyebrows of the day on a high,
on the shining face of the golden Bengal in broad daylight!

If that scores blowing the wrap off a reserved geometry
somewhere in Sylhet, meet the Hebrew king David here
he would offer his thousand and one melodic symposium
and King Solomon princely his whole affluent shebang.
'Cause the rolling down sun from heaven this time
hitting the ground could sparkle right on the palm  
holding the very cherry-picked handful of the earth!

Oh, what's that? Keeping now and then the times in tune
the earthy depth's pearl or outburst of the enduring master art,
the jewel on the foundation stone from the root of the earth?
The golden ratio foot is so firm still is a wisp of cloud
hanging over the ocean of life what loses plops in it
smooths out a rainbow tantalizing every looking eye!

The ascended fairy is a stealer that no hand can touch
seven colours shine on a patch of blue null to touch
took on a meaning for Sylhet in a handful of earth.
It matches the soil of Makkah the centre of the earth
the birthplace of the prophet king Muhammad (PBUH)!
One who is in the know hops on the foundation stone
and rose to heaven in the Night of Ascension.

How is it done a regular soil mirror the very pivotal one?
The labyrinth is out of this world, relate to Queen Maab
let alone a native maestro that not a genie can describe!

Every atom loves to discover the meaning of that.
It knows the constant vibrations the never-ending dance
that keeps it on its toe the choreography hails from outside.
With most polished foot and motions is butterfly dance
can't move an inch away there is always a canvas
is blank beneath the foot yet to lay on it candlelight!

Light a candle in Sylhet I wonder is it the moonlight
spills through even down into an atom's black canvas
or lovely dropped down the sun on a handful of earth?

Meet here the open future shows up at the earth's
hub-moon's anew rallying to the untouching-sea
the Indian subcontinent's corner to the ancient wind!

Hark the morning birds follow singing deep in the midst
mellifluous-shrills fill the air unveiling the dream scenes!
Ah, the deep footed earth how mystique, every morning
the sun off the heaven's hill lays in a new diaphanous
gold-light-rug beneath it, but yet to paint a footprint,
colourless magic, let alone the centrepiece!

The times anew numerating the bounties of our land.
Craving to sip in a dew-potion on our blossoming rose
cirrus clouds dancing over the seven seas here they drop!
Banish the midday blues singing the deep sea's song.

Nestled amidst the Rivers Surma, Kushiara and Monu
Perched on the shades of the trees, each one is a canvas.
Glows with changing Bangladesh's unique six seasons
as they swing and leap in the branches of the trees
and murmur with the upstream and the autumnal breeze.

Stunned angels on their way heaven taking one more sunset
potted in the starry bowl look back at the wee hours.
They can hear pianissimo on this preserved perennial land.
It never falls asleep is awake with a numerically perfect
circle of 360 spiritual dynamos from the centre they hailed
with a handful of earth and lived here as it matched.    

A deep-seated truth, rock-solid Shilahatta in Sanskrit.
Clothed in an enduring vesture minted Sylhet loops in
with the Hebrew Bible's Shalet, a ruler, a shield!  

A little drop makes the mighty ocean.
Like one single word on the lips
the maestros' great epics begin to be told.
Just with a mundane handful of earth
Primed Sylhet's masterpiece begins to unfold.
With the whole ball of wax keeping us onboard
lo, before the face of the earth, it unveils the mirror!
With the whole nine yards on her least hold
Believe it or not, Sylhet is cherry-picked chosen by God!
The subject matter is about a land possessing a deeply seeded truth. The prime significance of which is its scattered afar but matches the pivotal soil of the centre of the earth!
Sofia Von Oct 2013
Strangers are my best friends
Even feelings are for even people... Know anyone who matches that description?
I'd like to cuddle away the problems
**** someone while crying
No
I don't think so
I want to be felt and loved. And craved like fluent chocolate gushing
Down the corners of my mouth
Lapped up by your tongue
I wish

Scratched letters over a blank canvas
Make for messages of clarity.
Nails on a chalk board every time you etch, but its the promise of the next word that makes it tolerable.
These pick-up-stick letters are angry and depressed but fit together like bread on butter. creamy song lyrics you scribble but there’s no tune.
An obstacle foreseen and ignored.
The rhythm of voice catches, flame to syncopation, and feebly you grow with your words to become the song

Sung now, in churches
Do they realize from whence their hymns originated? Deep down, long ago, in the valley of hidden emotional pangs
Your envy was too rich for your body
Yet big enough for this... congregational ritual.
Heart tears are beautiful for creation
To existence
They're treacherous

I smile and admire my work
Blow a smoke ring over the wet words not quite solidified on the page
Smudge
Better with a flaw
I don't smoke
Im a social stress smoker
Self diagnosed
Self medicated
So you see I'm an aspiring artist
Although most of my works are ****, I don't really give up.
Its just this part of me I can’t always explain
That happens
They’re my impulse of choice
A painting, a drawing, a poem, a song, dance, all music (save country).
Even little quick thoughts or plans I have are peaceful to record.
It's times like this night where I should really be fast in my REM cycle, dreaming of crazy scenarios to **** up and uncover a truth upon my waking.
But I'm on my notes
Typing away the babble of nonsense thats streaming on demand
Tonight
I'll exit with a line
Or so, I'm not sure
Breathe in the plant, puff out love hits and over expose the motion picture. Each passing present memory is precious to the cycle I don't really want to define.
But I'm in love with its inhabitants I can't get over them
And each day is another episode
But... Is this a sitcom, or a documentary?
These words, are time filled

Cold feet shouldn't be a thing.
I liked how you talked once upon a time.
But beauty and the beast is black and white.
I'm an all or nothing kind of guy.
Guess I'm not really what you like.

Burnt matches for kindling.
Ashes with embers only painted orange.
Thought we felt a similar thing.
Cigarettes in the moonlight talk a lot more.

So it's over, I know you now,
A body is all you're worth.
So it's over, I know you now.
A little piece of heaven, a little piece of dirt.
So it's over, I know you now.
If there's a crowd, you'll say the words.

Found out why you sit a lot by yourself.
Two trains of thought and mine's running out of town.
Away from you, I hope you're burning,
I won't feel those flames by the morning.

Burnt matches for kindling.
Ashes with embers only painted orange.
Thought that we felt a similar thing.
Cigarette tips in the moonlight talk a lot more.

So it's over, I know you now.
Just a girl.
So it's over, I know you now.
A backroom museum piece.
So it's over, I know you now.
No pictures, please.
No pictures please.
Julian Sep 2016
rainshod: oppressive cold winters in pacific nw
tinjesk: Poker-Faced villain
qwiss: Orgiastic non-contact make-outs
repcrevel: Venality on Wall-Street and the Capitol Building
drass: Useful lingerie
pinhoke: Cause an idea or a campaign to sink
ribbacle: A shibboleth of pretended intellect
fuly: auras of lightning on LSD
renvard: auras of synesthesia
plackique: sports memorabilia
ponkoss: beach-dweller
klipfrag: ancient movie footage
skrimch: haunted cities
roerik: kingpin of secrets
wespian: breezy fall leaves
rintinole: covert voyeurism
qaest: a fake life to replace a real one
brumble: fight among drunk people
bilkey: knowledge about the stock market insider information
wreggle: blackwashing history
hoyjoipolloi: free drugs and bubble-gum for every Canadian
qwartion: wicked schemes that involve abortion and clones
flipcrave: switching  drug cravens (tim tebow)
teaboat: to be aboard a flailing vessel before it gets ransacked by reason and logic
sollow: hollow and sadness percolating over a victim
strollow: people evil enough to deserve being alone
chenkenwhich: prestidigitation in fake time travel
glickstorm: a hail of *** ******* rick-rolling
wrikpond: The betting pool aggregate form at any casino
histeriological:someone who understands historical trends
tribance: Prerogatives of esoteric knowledge handed down to native americans
hilswop: changing nearby universities
slore: lore for mentally handicapped people
rigamorhole: the information about where elite people hang out
qazz: gurgling soda down
pleckigger: An agricultural apportionment of land that is rational and logical
Ruby-Tuesday-blues: song meaning
halliformatic: person who goes to heaven
squalorformatic: a person who goes to agony
fitterformatic: borderline on both
syvil: nurturing old people
jeccha: democrat trap
oinslew: a large catholic family
erlap: a short confiment
tawy: chewy and sweet
pordeg: high degree mason that is poor
kallince: shrieking with terror at movie theater
groussaints: best house music
rindkline: best EDM
wrepolis:city owned by musicians
ilkengor: similar military strategies
qwarth: wars fought for vain reasons
bracking nudes: **** women naked *******
swarp: time warp speed
swarpollock: nonsensical UFO lie
WHOLOGANS: spies that always attend international matches between rival countries that get the best information
A Sad Alex Aug 2018
It follows me around you know
Maybe it never really left
It hangs around the air, light as a feather
But it´s presence, heavy as a weight.

As I sit on the bus, an empty seat at my side
It sits, it looks at me, and it stares...
And my mind is flooded with thing we used to do
Things of lovers: to kiss, to hug, to lose myself in you
To show you my affection, to show you I cared.

As I go out to take a walk, it walks by my side
It matches my speed, no matter how slow or fast
And my heart weighs heavy with things I could have done
Tell you I love you, being there for comfort
So much time wasted, never to return.

As I lay in my bed, it lays by my side
Perfectly still, just outside of my grasp
And our future banishes in front of my eyes
Our home, our family, our lives intertwined
It tears me apart, as I begin to cry.

It follows me around, but I can´t leave it behind
The ghost of you, it haunts me day and night
The mistakes I made… The errors of my ways…
I pay for dearly, every single day
Loneliness follows me, and it has your shape…
Hopefully you guys enjoy this one, I felt a bolt of inspiration to write this, and that is one of the best feelings on Earth for me, to just pour yourself on a poem.
Nic Mac Jun 2018
Distance, is this air around me that is vacant of you.
Your heart, so far from mine, though I can hear it’s music.
Patience, is the belief that time without you is bearable.
Seconds slowly scrape along the line I drew to wake.
Nothing matches this ache.

of opening eyes to mornings, without your laughter.
Closing them is redundant,
it does not permit me back, to revisit the dream I had left you in.
Eyes instead reluctantly greet the sunrise,
whilst yours are still dancing, flickering, in the gift sleep brings.
I wonder if your searching for me.

Impatient hands long to pull you prematurely out of slumber. Reaching across this border in vain, restless mind teasing me,
as it thinks of holding you, kissing you, here. now.
Dare I soften the white peaks of the mountains that part us?
I mustn’t, thinks the patient witness of time I’ll wait for you on the other side my dear...join me, soon, I wait eagerly.
the wait for wakefulness as they sleep still....

By Nic Mac
without friendship
we have nothing

no substrate sustainable
nest on fire fallout

we play with matches
kindling tilt hips
but these skins chill
so fast

in the absence
of underlying structure:

woodpyre pyramid ascent
pointing at blackdrop
where fractured lights
dance against

contorting shadowsong
upon crooked wings
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