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Let love's sunset into my heart
With sullen greys tinged in pink
With last rays of warmth
Before there comes the chill

Let the last breath of fulfillness
Ease around my heart
Take away the sunny memories
Softly as the light fades away

Fading fast empty embraces
And kisses that have no taste
As softly whispered I love yous
Fall into the Atlantic sea

Come nightness surround now
My empty heart
Console my ache and care
So come now , sunset of my heart
We were the transient children
windswept youth
marching to break the barrier
between nightness and dawn
whispering immigrant secrets
of our fathers
and mothers

lying on rooftops yelling
arrays of stars
speeding away
racing light
racing racing racing
hearts as we crawled
down fire escapes to
street corners
to proselytize

Amen
Hari Krishna
Namaste
As-Salāmu 'Alaykum
silent God
I love this poem, and I want to improve it. Comments on form?
Martin Narrod Aug 2017
Anything All of the Everything

Events of Summer quickly ensue, it takes hold of you quickly, while the police drive thru. You cannot find it half-way into the night, you could hold up on a park bench or lay your blanket on the slough. Perhaps when your dreams kick, your asterisks will come, build a map of your defense and then head for the sun. Some foe outwit the wounds of life, furry blister-like faces, when they take up the star dust diamonds, the trail guides take after hurrying up paces.

The festivities of fear are living oaths inside of marbled starve rocks, they harvest shoots and ladders, and keep tabs on wild beasts and livestock. There's no match throughout the campgrounds. There's no matchbook light to find us. If you're quick enough with your 70s, then perhaps you'll follow the nightness that's arrived us.

In aide of her lift-gate, shredding pensive miens and speeding mimes, taking ward of one thousand fathomed depths, assumes courageous anti-hate isms. She can come quickly with a syzygy, her van packed with fresh woes of Sunday, then around Monday humbly hides her stuff in the small hems of her bed linens. You can't outwit the governess who preys on handicapped children's thrift finds. She makes clothes and keeps her hands to bed. She bares new graves for time's new roman epithets and moving pictures. She  unplugs her bleeding tongues under some new sone for her monarchic archetypical audiophile party.

While the umberphiles sleep, nyctophiliacs stalk grizzlies. Mosquitos quaff at human blood, while their offspring keep drinking. The idle bugs throes, misanthropic and useless, teach electric lusters' mouths to grow into fiery hoops with which to slip past all the clueless.  The arachnids might dance, the haunting verbs they might fray. The Egyptians at first glance, try to hide their heroine pyramids away.

So hush little violet dormant flowers, fake your fertility and keep your skeptic drink. Keep each one you might meet, within one hundred feet of where you sleep. Keep your arms length's supine, your supplies out of reach, practice wrapping yourself up inside boxes where the souls can sleep.

If you only once catch a fool, avoid the plague-speak certain lips might tell. Each uttered word commanded with too much ******* across the bandwidth. Mortal courses can't be taught, human voices can't keep the draught, ferocious abstract engineered humanity has escaped this truant absence and immorality. You, you catch a fool, she could preach hurts and djinns, it could dot the I's of when, and unfurl the sighs of men. Berthed earthlings that the **** ascribes, hurts the worthless and sours true purpose widths of curfews and its curses, all these biomes perfervidly reserve the fury for their furtive perversity, elements to obscure the telemetry that has coddled such a dark conflagration of immensity, it's the cluelessness of these transgressors that forces the abhorrence towards all-white-everything professors.
While sitting in Grand Teton National Park at the entrance to Spalding Bay.
Martin Narrod Dec 2015
pick your master under the cover of snow
bends of darkness hemmed to the tops of conifers
Soon I will visit to move you. Three appended signatures,
Three thousand miles of telephone wire.

This is the one letter I cannot send
for there is no address for where you are,
The one I wish to call upon has no receiver to respond.
And now all my teeth begin to fall out
Like excess light bleeding from your moons.

I know the sound of Glass when I hear it.
You have made weapons out of my junk and
Then gone to war without me, I see you
Against the whistling stars and overseers,
Anxiety makes this heart grow fungus
These fingertips weary, and I pull out my eyelashes
As if trying to see you better through this impenetrable
black nightness I lead myself into, until all that
were corners and crests become the precipice.

Insecurity turns to rooks, hatred turns to Jays
Until the weeping have wept and I visit to stay.
myths say
the stars lactated from her *******
but I think
she wears a scarf of stars until nightfall
then
she pulls it from about her in voluptuous motion
and lets it fall
to puddle as it may
the stars in its net doubled on themselves
the way a chiffon scarf
looks, melted on the floor
or a river
turned back on itself

O Voluptuary!
make me the sky -
wind your cloth of stars about me now -
let me feel their antique heat on my back
let me feel their electric path
as they shoot across this human sky
let the hammock of your scarf cradle this solitary
in the nightness of your lights


c. Roberta Compton Rainwater 2014


**Nuith (noot): Egyptian goddess of the night sky
Martin Narrod Nov 2015
I keep her clothing in the bed,
Fresh wet daggers of this concupiscent World. That is the standard. Don't you Hear it?
I watch the lamps and blankets singe
Cigarettes and Heineken
Nevermind, With the Lights Out
Everything is 'About A Girl',
And faking for no one.
'm too fuxked to know the difference
Stress is a knot that kills the young
I don't care about the other's wasting Their time isn't my business.

My sick is so short sighted. It carries a Black lighter inside its Gareth Pugh jeans.
Ann Demeulemeester top, Rick Owens Boots, an Obscur coat, Rad Hourani shirt
Henrik Vibskov socks, an MB999 tee.
Color is language for the body to read.
Inertia and energy protect me. I am the Opposite of a black hole. This vessel governs its own space, but I don't attempt To understand anything or any one thing.

This lizard brain keeps its ward and Wielding the almighty power of its Nightness, cosy's up near the Community of Death, Magic, and Numinous winter dirges, huffing Parfumes from her death-covered clothes.
Death clothes party Nightness licentious lust infinite love the west prose Chicago martinnarrod LOOTD
PK Wakefield Jan 2014
shout, i know it's dark you might
hear they
might
hear
please
shout
(into darkness)
the fullness of your throat to make
a sound of such irrevocable self,
will part on its smoldering blade all darkness
will fold 'pon itself
fold upon itself and it will
tremble apart the walls of creaking death


(And you will ride it something brightly of destroying light into terse nightness of body
A colour splendid to feel as flowers,
You will on it fly
And your throat might crack to waiver slightly its beating,
But O heart you will
By fleet improbable wings of music
Fill the voice
And fling through dying
Rills of love so blinding

Even darkness cannot be seen.  )
Third Eye Candy May 2014
how are you this mad? from where comes your explicit wreck ?
are you undone ? if so, let me show the way to another trouble
to keep at your breast. let me reveal the vista
and the void.... to console your tremors in the meek nightness
of your unfortunate soul.
i love you.
and loving you is nothing more than nothingness.
but you dream of hate and cinders.
full tilt boogie with that shadow
but never mine
at last.

never mine at all.
ulflyr69 Jun 2013
Silver black explosion
and deep red introspection
brought on by blinding orange.

Shading myself intentionally,
to be exposed to the nightness'
exquisite purple pyre.

She's come and gone on
however the colors go by;
divine glimpses of violet fury

In dark blue sadness
and opal melancholy
pass endless lightless days.

The shadowed past, forever dark
precludes the waking dawn.
Deadly near, a desire to pass on.
wordvango May 2016
the sky is definitely blue
right up until the horizon draws that line
of uncertainty which every human,
vista, future  most certainly tries to
not pay attention to,
or gaze in fruity pastel positive
magnificence, a smile hiding over that hill,
all is silent in the nightness
thinking of it all-
dreaming again
John ayres Jun 2018
She soared above the frozen fields
Melting away the years unused
Budding life on old limbs still
A greening now that by her choose
The brightness burned the gray away
As warm winds bring the seeds to sow
A nightness then is now a day
The sprouts will find a way to grow
Her watchfulness of me her duty
She chose then not to run
Despite my acts to seem unruly
She is still my summer sun
For Diana.
The nightness of you
terrifying in its power
to shred
to bite and crack
to maim
crawls over me
sniffs my fragrance
purrs into my ears
my heart
threatens my neck
wrestles me prone
Requires me
I surrender
my love, my Love
while you maul
chew
and lick my submission
my annihilation
out of me
The fawn that was my heart
lies bloodied
in pieces
wanting more
Of you

copyright 2017 by Roberta Compton Rainwater

— The End —