"performed" poems
Leaves, sticks, and seeds make up this six foot stalk.
Oh, how she blooms before the flashing lights!
Leaving men and women with a stunned gawk.
Oh, you cause the seeds of your kind at night,
to dream of heights they won't reach; how sadly
try the delusional. But in all kin,
is imprinted least a scar on their psyches.
Sacrificial offer in porcelain
is ritually performed by some daily.
If not for fame, glory, or money, then
to mirror fashion people's ideal beauty.
A cyclic mental disease that won't end.
Shhh.. Here she comes! The first, but not the least.
An appetizer for the famine feast!
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 2:59 PM UTC
Here is the inimitable Jeff Buckley's poem, "My New Year's Eve Prayer," which he performed live at Sin-é in Manhattan, NYC, in 1996.
"You, my love, are allowed to forget
about the Christmas you just spent stressed out in your parents' house.
You, my love, are allowed to shed the weight
of all the years before,
like bad disco clothes.
Save them for a night of dancing ****** with your lover.
You, my love, are allowed to let yourself drown
every night in bottomless wild and naked symbolic dreams.
You, my love, in sleep can unlock your youth
and your most terrifying magic;
and dreaming is for the courageous.
You, my love, are allowed to grab my guitar
and sing me idiot love songs
if you've lost your ability to speak.
Keep it down to two minutes.
You, my love, are allowed to rot and to die
and to live again,
more alive and incandescent than before.
You, my love, are allowed to beat the **** out of your television,
choke it's thoughts and corrupt its mind.
**** **** **** **** the ************
before the song of zombiefied pain
and panic and malaise
and it's narrow right-winged vision
and it's cheap commercial gang ****
becomes the white noise of the world.
Turn about is fair play.
You, my love, are allowed to forgive and love your television.
You, my love, are allowed to speak in kisses
to those around you
and those up in heaven.
You, my love, are allowed to show your babies
how to dance full bodied,
starry eyed, audacious, supernatural and glorified.
You, my love, are allowed to **** in every single endeavor.
You, my love, are allowed to be soaked like a lovers' blanket
in the New York summertime
with the wonder of your own special gift.
You, my love, are allowed to receive praise.
You, my love, are allowed to have time.
You, my love, are allowed to understand.
You, my love, are allowed to love.
Woman, disobey,
when little men believe;
You, my love, are Rebellion."
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
*Darkness falls across the land
The midnight hour is close at hand
Creatures crawl in search of blood
To terrorize your neighborhood
And whosoever shall be found
Without the soul for getting down
Must stand and face the hounds of hell
And rot inside a corpse's shell
The foulest stench is in the air
The funk of forty thousand years
And grisly ghouls from every tomb
Are closing in to seal your doom
And though you fight to stay alive
Your body starts to shiver
For no mere mortal can resist
The evil of the thriller*
© Michael Jackson
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 6:03 AM UTC
be washed away
(with spoken word inserts
by soulsurvivor)
When I die don't cry for me
In my Father's arms I'll be
The wounds this world
left on my soul
Will all be healed and I'll be whole
Sun and moon will be replaced
By the light of Jesus Face
And I will not be ashamed
For my Savior knows my name.
- chorus -
It don't matter where you bury me
I'll be Home and I'll be FREE
It don't matter where I lay
All my tears be washed away
SS insert -
Persecution I'll expect.
It's not surprising. Folks reject.
Still I LOVE my Lord so dear
I'll forgive and have no fear
Faced with evil on all sides
In the Lord I will abide
No force of hell can remove Thee
It don't matter where you bury me
---
Gold and silver blind the eye
Temporary riches lie
Come and eat from heaven's store
Come and drink and thirst no more
So weep not for me my friend
When my time below does end
For my life belongs to Him
Who will raise the dead again
- chorus -
SS insert -
I will pass. That much is clear.
I'll leave my tabernacle here
Life is short, the time doth fly
So I'll go to kiss the sky
Then I'll know all mysteries
It don't matter where you bury me
A song written by Julie Miller
Performed by Emmy Lou Harris
and Selah (this version is below)
With inserts by SoulSurvivor
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 2:16 PM UTC
the count starts now (tired of tired)
I read your outcry at 3:00am
posted on Facebook
you are
tired of tired
sick of sick
the only question, will it ever end...
rise this day, start another way...
count your blessing
count against all odds
for there are more than merely one
use both hands
both hands chested to feel the heart thrusting,
for living is a wondrous blessing unique
an unbelievable to believe than so many beats,
born and borne,
by you, a strength unequaled,
you a richness possessed
count that one first.
count my hands holding your shoulders.
count that as two, one for me, one for you.
more? more.
mirror. find the tiny light in each eye against a yellow backdrop.
add two more. for they are a sparking confidence of confirming.
you felt the heart thrumming
go back, feel the breathing warmth breaching forth.
add another. for now known you can never ever be cold.
wash the face, wash away the caution that sleep leaves,
the coverlet of fear that fears you not to dare,
amazing that tap water plain is sacred when it
miracle breaks you out and anoints thy forehead with pure oil like the kings of yore, be a kingly human being.
go out. do not return
until one act of kind is performed and
count that as a thousand blessed, a sum recurring recounted
walk humble and the path will always appear.
walk contented for you can be both king and servant,
there is no difference - you must be both to be the other
one.
and if you still cannot raise the head,
call me.
that would be a blessing for me
and I will hear your blessings sounds mine merge,
dear friend and no more stranger,
that is the simplest definition of our learning to count to
infinity
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 4:33 AM UTC
I am in a constant battle for control.
I am hard to deal with
because my therapist says
OCD will not rest
OCD does not care what time it is
OCD does not care where you are
OCD does not care who is watching.
Usually when I obsess over things
I see my life falling to shambles
I see people not loving me anymore
I see germs sneaking into my skin.
When my uncle, my aunt, and my friend all died
in a matter of three months,
i performed rituals every hour on the hour
sometimes even more.
My therapist says this will not go away.
My therapist says to come see her so we can try to cope with this.
My therapist does not understand that WE are not coping.
I am coping
not her
not anyone else
me.
My therapist is a sick person
she is still recovering from alcoholism
so how can she help me
if all she sees is a bottle of bourbon when she looks at me.
I am not a bottle of bourbon
I am a bottle of OCD and depression and anxiety
I am a bottle of drugs and alcohol and death
I am a bottle being smashed over your head
I am not coping
I am drowning
And people have stopped loving me
And my life is falling into shambles
And I think I may be getting sick
so what the **** are these rituals even doing for me
anyway.
I have stopped taking medication because
wanting to die has become habitual
and I fear that will become a ritual too.
If I die
all people will talk about is how much they loved me
even if they didn't.
If I die,
there will be no room to have my life fall to pieces
because I will be in peace.
If I die,
I cannot get sick because the soil
will be taking care of my body but
who will perform my rituals
once I'm gone?
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
*he is screaming but no one can hear him
she is singing but no one listens
he is lost but no one is looking for him
she is searching and finds that she is alone*
words go unanswered
no matter what is said
they fall upon deaf ears
and reverberate into deep unknown places
an orchestra in the ocean
performed in a foreign frequency
a song lost in translation
heard by many
but meaningful to none
*he is asking but no one answers
she is begging but no one gives
he is following but no one leads
she is leading but no one will follow*
uniqueness is your downfall
strength lies in being the same
in possessing
the inherited dialect of survival
that cannot be achieved
it is a birth right
as natural as your name
but instead
of deserved solace
you received the gift
of 52 hertz of loneliness
*he is calling but receives no answers
she is crying but finds no comfort
he is sinking but no one knows
she is dying and no one cares*
doomed to drift
through bottomless, indigo twilight
being carried on the waves
of your own erie lament
the sound of your sadness
is the cause of your isolation
your desperate song
remains your only hope
and it will never cease
someone, someday
will hear you
and answer
your heart wrenching pleas
someone, someday
singing love songs in the deep
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 4:36 PM UTC
I took a walk in La Goulette yesterday
From the “Bridge-of-the-Casino” to the port.
The things I saw on my sun-bathing way
So simple they were, here is a report:
II
Sea snakes under a blue bridge did frolic
As hardware stores displayed paint in their windows.
The water snakes performed some dance symbolic
And the paint braved the dark rust from a distance.
III
And I, hastening to my liquid address,
Shot a side look at a man in a dress,
And hoped the blue water in the White Sea*
Would wash the wound bleeding in my memory.
© LazharBouazzi, 16/11/16 (revised Nov. 17)
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
Just ten minutes after I'd revved the engine
I was only nine miles away from the love of my life
Day dreaming of when we’d met just eight short months ago
Soaring at seventy down that country road
Only six more miles until she’d be in my arms again
Five years ago thoughts of love would have seemed so far out of sight
Yet four times I've already proposed, “too soon,” she’d always say
Amazing how in three seconds your entire life can change
With just two tires there’s little room for error
When one blew out I hit the asphalt, hard
In a wreck like that there’s zero chance I’d survive
One hour later the ambulance arrived at last
EMTs pressed two paddles against my chest
Shocks were delivered three times
At the hospital doctors performed four operations
Five months I spent in a coma
Followed by six months of physical therapy relearning to walk
In time all seventeen broken bones had set and healed
It cost me eight grand to buy a new bike
Now nine years later I’m still riding, fearless, wife on the back
The tenth time I asked, she finally said yes
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
It's like I'm on the dark side of the moon when you're not around.
It's dark and cold
Except then my imagination kicks in and there's pools of lava everywhere and it looks like they're from Minecraft
See,
You keep me centered. You are the light of my life
But sometimes I'm afraid to talk to you because generally, light sources are hot and I'm afraid of being burned
I love you with complete comittment and I haven't done that before
See,
I can't quite figure out how I ever lived without you in the first place
Actually, I can,
I took in oxygen and performed cellular respiration.
See,
I've been living on the dark side of the moon,
Where my imagination constisted of nightmares,
My daydreams were math and science
And I've never really felt anything other than terror and cold and dark
I love you because you showed me what light was,
You pulled me across the line I didn't know was there
And you showed me how to breathe again
Like showing a little girl a rose or a hummingbird for the first time
Now,
I'm still afraid I'm going to ***** something up,
And fall back into the dark
Because you are the first person that has not given up on me-
I've never left the shadows
I always wait patiently next to the line for you to come back before I cross it,
Like my dog waits for me to get home by the door.
I think of all of those people who left without me, one way or another
Then I think back to you and all the days you were there when I woke up
I love you because it is the hardest thing that I can't figure out how to stop doing
I love you because I'm not afraid of the sound of your footsteps
Or your voice, calling my name
I love you because you are familiar to me
And I'm not quite as scared anymore
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
<>
**”To dream by the oak and awake by the sea
when August has ripened and turned Jubilee
you must enter dominion of summer's delight
and live in the rapture of candescent light
Oh to live and to love one must first learn to kiss,
the kinetics of summer, with eternal bliss.”**
~from vienna bombardieri’s poem, “Kinetics Of Summer~
(with her kind permission)
<>
First verse pinpoints accurate, this,
my spot!
by oak and sea,
my precise longitude and latitude, where my summertime
eyes open to receive the gift of morning’s light, observing
the conjunction of land, hard by the sea, the land-ed avian gentry
and sea~sailor birds interacting, sharing the uprising currents,
for sport and observation, travel and pleasured sailing,
these “Masters of the Sky can fly for hours (or days), while barely flapping,” and this verse stuns, and
my shock,
at these, her words
my breathing is gasped and grasped
by oak and sea, for so it be,
this is where
my morning’s operatic scrum, ballet and dance hall hullabaloo,
my diurnal natural choreography is performed,
while slow sipping my very heated first coffee
it was here
that I learned to love more easily,
for the kinetics of summers trio of sun, sky, and moderate breezes,
lulled the turbulence of my disheartened lives into an easier
order, the world~surround, a living, breathing exercise that
warmed the spirit, cooled the soul, and spoke without uttering
a single word,
here dear person, is the where and the when,
the comfort of the natural-blanket
that enwraps, covers, cherishes the atmosphere entire,
containing the healing elixirs and protective ointments,
that remove the
plaque of life’s accumulated injuries, slights and scar tissue
simply put,
here I breath freely,
here I see with clarity
here the infusions of
living in nature, prolongs,
restore, remind, enliven
and enhances,
the intermixture of
body and soul
here in actual deed,
the kiss of summer bliss
upon
my tiring cell’s walls,
are resurrected even unto the nuclei,
by the warm breath of sun life and sun light,
and the breezes of salty sweet caramel air
and under their loving, combined-dominion
am I
resurrected and will yet sense,
one more Jubilee again
as I lay dreaming
by the oak and the sea…
Aug 2, 2023
Aug 2, 2023 at 4:05 AM UTC
I visited the wonderland after ages
I was welcomed in the same old way.
The lavenders performed a splendid show
Reminding me of the last May.
The mansion was as we left it,
holding all the memories we made.
Your clothes were laying on the floor near bed.
I still remember how I allowed you to invade.
The family photo was hanging in the gallery
showing off one of my greatest achievements.
Those trips to London, Paris and New York,
a new adventure on every weekend.
The empty rooms haunt me now
but I am holding it all with a thin strand.
(*If you ever want to return, darling,
Just come back to our Wonderland.*)
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
When Gods tried to churn ocean
For nectar with Meru mountain
Firstly it was poison which came
Because of its severity all life forms
Where in great threat
All Gods prayed him
He decided to take the poison
And save the world
Which eventually made his neck
Blue in color
So we call him Neelakanta
He has a third eye
So we call him Trinetra
He is the destructor of Evil
He wanders in Cementary
To pacify and soothe the spirits
By doing Shiva Tandavanam (dance performed by shiva)
And saved us from those spirits
Shiva is his name
Chanting his name can save you
From any hazardous situation
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
*Let the stars fly away
and leave the moon shining,
With You and I dancing
under the light until morning,
Hear the music playing
to the tune of heartbeats
Spiral waltz into the atmosphere
in the circle of our heat.
Swing under the moonlight
and be lost in love’s delight,
Souls in unison, while shaking,
and twisting in the night,
Fantasy performed in the body
moving from side to side,
Magical pleasure the souvenirs
reminisce with pride.
Imagine the night where the moon
glows in a fountain
The tiniest lives from natures hive
paddle in the ripples,
Lift the mind into the songs
with a picturesque scene that dazzles
And you smile in that moment
to cast a wishful token,
With one look into faith
at dreams destiny create, unspoken
The amazing aura in which
our desire can participate,
Leaving moves in photos
to embrace the ambiance found.
Being romantic; the party stood
silhouette around,
Shadows swing from the walls
unto the dance floor,
You hear the sound but your body
cries out for more.
Into the moonlight
eyes blinded by heavenly bliss,
And the glittering stars appear
in the halo of a kiss.*
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC
behind velvet cloth I saw your quail's eggs,
I saw your gentleman's relish too,
protruding as it was,
an Etonian slap to the face of the marmite jar which
it was reluctantly sat next to.
and although the relish would happily admit that
to sit next to marmite was certainly preferable
to finding oneself positioned next to Bovril or Cup-a-Soup,
it certainly was a far cry from the delicatessen counter
he was once accustomed to.
oh the delicatessen!
how the tear ducts performed with nostalgic aplomb
as memories of stuffed vine leaves and caramelised baby shallots
filtered back to the gentleman.
what he'd have given to be back there now,
to once again share the company of proper food,
of handmade chutneys and pickles,
not this common oafish tar.
this brutish black gunk.
'You may not have been factory made'
retorted Marmite,
'or contain E325,'
'but that isn't to say that your place on this shelf
is any more valid than mine.'
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 10:38 AM UTC
instead of being intertwined we’re the farthest we’ve ever been
i chose to look within
you always chose the life of sin
i stopped trying to be perfect and had to partake
i too wanna eat and have my cake
what was once golden has turned to rust
i understand why they say nothing lasts forever
cause everything is so mother ******* fallible
i had no choice but to pick up the pieces all by my lonesome and gained confidence with each step and each breath
what once felt heavy is now being forgotten
oh how lovely life can be when you forget
thank you for breaking my heart because i would’ve never had the strength to let you go
each event which you performed against me pushed me further and further away
from the love i kept in my heart for you
it seems to have disappeared and i can’t find it these days
i still believe in love
i still feel the warmth and always hope for the best
life is just a test
it’s sifting and then we’re blessed
this will be the last poem i ever write about you
i might’ve misconstrued the motion
i promise to write about a new love from here on out
just disregard this notion
Nov 7, 2021
Nov 7, 2021 at 7:52 PM UTC
How Sweetingly Rare to see this Advise,
The Westfold Bard who shares this Ancient Art
But Performed it Better to his Concise
And took Definition for his Good Part
I just knew you now. So what of belate
As Mentored Dolphins with Water's Tie befriend
I found this Artist; This Cornerstone Great
And Hope your Elder's Tongue will never end
You, Sir, confirmed my Efforts; This I Bow
And hand you the Medal I sought to seek
I am no Patron; Neither plan so now
Only the Purest Abe in Honest meek.
Now please Sing on, and Live to Peak Content
I write my Sighs; But these Praises I meant.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
The melodious voice, her silent voice.
Is nothing but a harsh reality of your choice.
Shutting her up and putting her down,
Doesn't give you a wise man's crown.
She who out of love performed every act of abnegation,
She is the one, the true sensation.
How could you be so insensitive to not hear?
So much she said through the eyes in tear.
For love and respect today she whines,
Despite your ruthless nature, with her love, you, she binds.
Maybe you don't know,
Even in dark she can glow.
She can extend the unforgiving minute,
Her strength and purity has no limit.
She standing on earth has reached the stars and sky,
Still in misconceptions you are high.
Open your eyes, your heart, your soul!
You're nobody to charge on her life any toll.
Do not underestimate this silent voice,
Her unsaid is heard even in the noise.
When this silent voice will come out of its shell,
Will that be the time when you'll ring a bell?
Today the voice is silent.
Tomorrow, my friend, it might be violent.
One who has brought you on this earth,
Don't dare to consider her as dirt.
Silently she can give you the pain of your life,
She is nobody but your mother, daughter or wife.
Her silent voice is loudest everywhere.
Her absence you won't be able to bear.
So from today, begin to care.
Wise man's crown then you'll wear.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
It was so vivid I could
feel my chest compressing
as I ran, crippled with sobs.
The betrayal was a knife
It was a furnace and my
feet hurt as I flew across the
city. When I punched out my
bedroom window I could feel
the glass separating my knuckles
and I contemplated the destiny
of the larger shards. I awoke as one
resuscitated from drowning
resuscitated from death
gasping, shaking, reeling
d e m a t e r i a l i z e d
and began to cry as I
performed yogic breathing
exercises and went limply through
the worn out motions to
assuage heart attack symptoms.
They know they know
even follow me
follow me when I'm asleep.
My God.
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 8:09 AM UTC
If I looked after the earth,
I'd burn it in passionate flames.
Bones inherit the soil,
not left a soul to claim.
The scent of rotting flesh,
brings essence to the finish
Life becomes extinct --
& so has the world within it.
Rich in confinement,
I slowly grow deranged.
Soon am I to join them,
hearken shrieks of the claimed.
My name is a song to them,
lost to genocide's insanity.
The voices in my head would claim;
"This is your new reality."
The grand rite performed,
& all has been fore-said.
I am to dine and dance --
with the souls of the dead.
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 11:12 PM UTC
Red Velvet has been lauded for breaking stereotypes
among popular girl groups in South Korea, whose concepts
tend to fall under two categories: "cute, or "pure" and ****
to fulfill a certain fantasy; in a country where girl groups'
fan bases are typically male, according to Taylor Glasby
of Dazed Digital, the majority of Red Velvet's fans are young
women and commented that "They {Red Velvet & ReVeluv}
are neither **** nor innocent, the band's music videos are often
dark, trippy, sinister, or haunting, even when they're flooded in
pastel colors". In 2017, IZE Magazine named the group
as one of the successful female figures who helped transform
the passive image of South Korean women at a time when
feminism had risen as an issue in the country. The group's music
also sets them apart from other K-pop artists. K-pop idols in general
suffer from a prejudice that they aren't considered real musicians
by music critics. But because of the group's diverse musical
inspirations and styles, these critics have since claimed that Red Velvet
has pushed the boundaries of music in the early 21st century.
In February 2018, Time magazine named Red Velvet
as one of the best K-pop groups ever, highlighting
their versatile musical styles;
Red Velvet was recognized
for their brand recognition and marketing power,
having topped _'Girl Group Brand Power Ranking'_
published by the Korean Corporate Reputation
Research Institute for three consecutive months.
Red Velvet performed in Pyongyang on April, 1 2018.
This made them the fifth idol group to ever perform
in North Korea. They performed "Red Flavor" & "Bad Boy"
at the East Pyongyang Grand Theater to an audience
that included Kim Jong-un. The concert was billed
as "Spring is Coming" and is part of a wider diplomatic
initiative between the ROK & the DPRK
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC
I have locked myself inside of my car in the middle of the school parking lot.
I can still hear the ringing of the bell that caused us to scatter out of the school like ants escaping from a disrupted colony ringing in my ears. I am no longer a fire ant, but a caged animal, and I’m not sure who the metal barrier around me is supposed to be protecting. I still don’t feel safe.
I am thinking about how the glass at the zoos muffles the sounds of the animals, and how you might miss their cries unless you stopped walking and got right next to the glass. I don’t want to be seen, but, at the same time, I am hoping and waiting for people to stop walking past me, stand next to my car, and listen.
I am laying down in my back seat like a wounded animal, and my screams are being muffled by me burying my face into the seat. I no longer feel like a caged animal, but a fish inside of a tank. I don’t know how long I have been crying, but I feel like I am drowning. You can’t hear noises in the water unless you are below the surface yourself. I feel like I am the exhibit in the aquarium that everyone ignores because whatever’s in the water is hiding under a rock.
My head feels as though it will explode, I can’t breathe, everything is blurry, my chest hurts, I can’t stop crying, and I have convinced myself that I am dying. When my cousin was three, he would have died if my dad had not performed cpr on his blue, limp little body after he was pulled out of the pool. Now, he is eleven, and he knows how to swim, but I don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t need water to drown.
Now, I am wishing that I had been the one that drowned that day.
I am sitting in a fish tank, I have no gills and I can not breathe.
My screams are silent, nobody can hear me, and I am kicking the inside of the car to try and make some noise, but everyone has gone home by now.
I am able to breathe again and I have grown a pair of lungs.
I am sitting in a zoo after closing hours, and all I can do is practice my roar and try to be heard again in the morning.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC
let's make a deal.
uncap the bottle,
discover my greatest work-
a soliloquy on sentience,
performed to an empty room.
the walls
are bleeding lead poisoning again
and i
am leaving logic behind.
the air is crisp on my wretched skin
and as the world dies
its aching breath helps me
to finally feel alive.
i am pure white.
let me rise, enlightened.
as i float, breathless,
i can feel, finally,
the weight of my bones.
make me into a sparrow,
feast upon my marrow,
so i can become porous-
but leave my hollow mind whole.
idolize me.
spin my disease into pure beauty.
a stone-cold rose
grounds the coffin for my dreams,
liberating me from responsibility.
awaken me.
strip my heavy corpse of its wings,
eviscerate the breath from my lungs
cease my tangibility
oh glory,
build me up
strip me down
to my knuckles and teeth,
to the weathered bone.
remove the bloodstains from my home.
if i bleed now
it will be beautiful
when i fall, i
will glorify the cement, decorate it
with my shining insides
when i come down
it will be stunning
it will be dreadful
and i will be resplendent
-but the delivery
won't change the content
candy wrapping
can't cover up the stench of death-
i have given up
on purging the necrosis from my tissue
i have found
this tantalizing muse once again, and
once more i
will let her put cigarettes out
on my sorry skin.
i've grown to love the smell,
that acrid poison
it almost covers up the scars
she leaves-
if i can make dying sound beautiful
then to hell
with us all
if you could romanticise suicide
you'd be rotting
too
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 9:14 PM UTC
The pendulum is a bull shark.
The hour of the savior is a pregnant bride's swan dive into the water.
The mighty mile is a figure 8 in the scoot of
non slop socks across the bare linoleum.
Blood and bright are the redness of the blanket.
divine terror at one hart beat per hour.
Finger nails green and black against a back drop
of the brightest, bluest eyes you've ever seen;
deep pools of liquid light that will shine when least expected.
And the obligation isn't one at all,
for when i breath in,
you breath out.
And when I gave consent 1000 years ago times 10-
you performed the exorcism under the shroud of my amnesia
and the spotted light from a crystal disco ball.
Shards of light moved upon the face of all the space between the stars.
My heart was in the highlands but now its in your hands.
Oct 2, 2020
Oct 2, 2020 at 8:15 PM UTC