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The Willow Jun 2014
We are coral.
Rock polyps
Slender rock
Grazing at the feet of the master waters
Expanding indefinitely

We have holes.
Countless crevasses
Of all different sizes
And every one of us
Craving
For something

To fill those holes.

Reefs reach up
To the sun
Restlessly
We fight
But it’s not visible.
You wouldn’t see any
Trembles
Hinting at the movement
Under the waves

We are reaching up
Revealing cracks unseen
Trying to catch what we can
To fill the void
Of our own bodies

The coral catches coral
Broken off at the tips
And roots uproot
Proof
That we’re stretching to the surface
We cannot stay here hungry

Coral grabs coral
Desperate for fulfillment
We as rocks moan
“I’m waiting for sunlight,
or diamonds,
or perhaps something greater
than
what I am.”

Coral fills coral.  
and others remain empty.
What are polyps to do?

Then the realization comes that we have been
So
Slowly
Filled with the ashes
Of the mounts of fire
Surrounding
Home
It takes so long
To collect the specks
And soot doesn’t look like much.

Years pass.
Years and years and years
And corals that wanted to feel full
Grabbed at identical fibers
They lost limbs of themselves in the process
And every piece that stuck
Eventually left
On the current

Every
Last
One.

And the soot filled the spaces of the corals that waited
And they shone with time
And they shone within the spaces
In places
That were not meant for coral
But indestructible
Stone.
We are diamond.
I hope my good old ******* holds out
60 years it's been mostly OK
Tho in Bolivia a fissure operation
     survived the altiplano hospital--
a little blood, no polyps, occasionally
a small hemorrhoid
active, eager, receptive to phallus
     coke bottle, candle, carrot
     banana & fingers -
Now AIDS makes it shy, but still
     eager to serve -
out with the dumps, in with the ******'d
     ******* friend -
still rubbery muscular,
unashamed wide open for joy
But another 20 years who knows,
     old folks got troubles everywhere -
necks, prostates, stomachs, joints--
     Hope the old hole stays young
     till death, relax

                                        March 15, 1986, 1:00 PM
Jade --
Stone of the side,
The antagonized

Side of green Adam, I
Smile, cross-legged,
Enigmatical,

Shifting my clarities.
So valuable!
How the sun polishes this shoulder!

And should
The moon, my
Indefatigable cousin

Rise, with her cancerous pallors,
Dragging trees --
Little bushy polyps,

Little nets,
My visibilities hide.
I gleam like a mirror.

At this facet the bridegroom arrives
Lord of the mirrors!
It is himself he guides

In among these silk
Screens, these rustling appurtenances.
I breathe, and the mouth

Veil stirs its curtain
My eye
Veil is

A concatenation of rainbows.
I am his.
Even in his

Absence, I
Revolve in my
Sheath of impossibles,

Priceless and quiet
Among these parrakeets, macaws!
O chatterers

Attendants of the eyelash!
I shall unloose
One feather, like the peacock.

Attendants of the lip!
I shall unloose
One note

Shattering
The chandelier
Of air that all day flies

Its crystals
A million ignorants.
Attendants!

Attendants!
And at his next step
I shall unloose

I shall unloose --
From the small jeweled
Doll he guards like a heart --

The lioness,
The shriek in the bath,
The cloak of holes.
beauty is born
torn and tired
tirelessly turning 
into itself
she unfurls 
her long and shapely legs 
like a chain of
tibetan prayer-flags
waving to the Sun
immediately she begins 
to stage the play
that penetrates the heart 
with strong arms
and a silken mane 
the color of sea-spray 
her neck is the foam filled ocean 
and her ******* 
are coral reefs that protect
the polyps that cluster 
in her unfathomable depths 

modern day education
is beyond biased 
and most definitely broken
impermanent knots 
are haphazardly tied
to bind the minds
of dancing children
short-term memory
instigates a fleeting vision
some call it autism 
others prefer anarchy
a fear of growth 
or is it really indecision
that when you can no longer respond 
to life's most pertinent questions
with anything other 
than no thank you
eventually every syllable uttered 
becomes the stuttered sound 
of overly clichéd ambivalence
that frequently masks 
itself as wisdom


despite our higher self's 
best wishes
such limitless awareness
our very own bodhichitta
slowly becomes 
an interminable trickster
also known as Ego 
which incessantly repeats

phrases like 
i’ve earned these blessings
i've learned these lessons
aeons ago
therefore it is best to
meditate and inspect one's thoughts
on a daily basis
before all these shadows 
have a chance to grow and become
funeral wreaths
still the ego says
oh what fun it is to look at
the shimmering shawls strewn 
haphazardly like wedding veils
upon our watery souls
as if you and I were a couple of
Jackson ******* paintings


to heat the flame
inside the
limitless
space of your soul
you cannot
deny your heart
the swamps, vines, rocks and peaks
it seeks for eternity
the ancient trees drink light
and breathe out the heaviness
of splintered sight 
into the ephemeral night
divine breath
is calling you home
sounding trumpet flowers
daily...

gathering falling branches
and transforming sticks of palo santo
into star-studded candles
which permanently leave 
their ashen and iridescent marks 
like tattooed scars
upon the painted face of the sky

while angels fly
with flaming bundles of hair
weaving silent smoke signals
rising up from warm coals
the spiraling eyes of the spirits 
are alight with the embers of love
which impress their radiant etchings 
upon the daguerreotype of darkness' 
burning eyeballs


faceless in the heat
grief is asleep and dreaming
of justice
a curse on those 
who evade their emptiness
in culturally appropriated places
harboring...

regret like a fugitive 
such frustration that i wept
for the lack of fruitfulness 
******* the chords of love
slowly and gently she strums
her weeping guitar 
as if arrows and yarn
were woven into her arms
like baby blankets and bundles of cotton
naked and forlorn 
her hair worn short
still she swore that she could not rest
until all had sweat their prayers
through hollow caverns and windy staircases
her vision forever strengthened
by a ceaseless determination

balancing multiple lovers
is never an ideal situation
hearts broken and freedom falling
toppling down from heaven’s peak 
into these dusty old basements
just as we suspected
everything is resurrected
to time’s smiling amazement
both old ones and new ones
are reflections of truth
juniper sours
and blooming flowers 
of golden waterlilies 
poppies and sprigs of amaranth
jaundiced and porous
loquacious are the stages 
that we must pass through 
on our way to becoming 
dew drops and frozen apples


remediating all this concrete nonsense 
would be to our immediate economic advantage
these tragic promissory notes 
where landed lords of wealth 
have repeatedly replicated themselves 
upon trillions of meaningless pieces of paper
their stoically printed faces 
should not be readily trusted
nor traded or exchanged
for life's necessities
they are not only useless but truly 
dangerous
as they often claim
that they are only passing through
yet as each new day dawns
they are forever inclined 
to once again dine with you anew


bold in flesh and sinuous
only a moment before
the Sun shall bloom and whisper
with sleepy eyes
into yarrow flavored water
the secret of not knowing
the ancient face
of grandmother Moon speaks
through alabaster teeth
so intent on biting through sheets of
dawn’s iridescent sky
that the sounds of her words
are instantly drowned out 
by her tears
yet if you listen 
really closely like an owl
to the chorus of the night
you can clearly 
hear the forest echo

i love you
dj Dec 2012
tented World of Bubbles and
critters, monkey-wild,
the slant-
off,
the fathoms of a depth,
of Worlds whose histories end
in a fraction of what nature does do.

Amola mola, designator
a bulb of light dangling down to the nauticals,
the bubble armoured polyps.
The lively cesspool of micro-seamounts, where,
once there stood strong
a sea-green zoo,
now vaguely stands a mineral vestige.
Gaia shut off the vent
everyone goes away.

visited by wraiths --
These black lampreys, hooded and veiled,
clustering, cloistering,
the successors who
they and they only
the new deepsea robbers.

now a lighter sinking feeling,
the demigod sinks hitherto like nature does do.
a giant ***** whale dies above
Casting its shadow of hope

and the wraiths appear in the umbra
pushing & shoving for a spot
food arrives with a thud;
a castle of whale bones as their home
they were never so happy.

so crazily, thoughtlessly food-driven
deepsea "things"
swish-swash swish-swash goes the weird fish circus,
and then, crazily so
upon their trophy, the mirror wraiths,
of a bubbled World
feed in frenzy.
Paige Miller Dec 2012
Let’s go on an odyssey, an epic
we’ll never forget. Let’s turn the world upside down,
fall into the sky, fly at light speed
and wish on white dwarfs and red giants.
I don’t want to wait for the time it takes light to travel
across a vacuum. Take my hand and we’ll reach
farther than footprints on the moon, brush off the dust
and jump. Impossible is the space between our fingers.

Let’s sail across the ocean, feeding fish and taming sharks.
We’ll swim to the depths, tickle coral,
watching polyps break free.
I want to learn to glow like jellyfish,
lose my eyes to detect predators.
We can lay out on the sand and let the sun turn water
into gas.

Let’s shrink to atoms and build proteins,
untwist DNA just to watch it coil into chromosomes,
increase ATP just to expend it.
Did you know one electron makes oxygen a free radical?
It builds up in your system just
to break you down.
I’ll be your helicase and you’ll be mine.
We’ll replicate, transcribe, translate.
J McDevitt Jun 2013
Deep inside the heart collides
With the majesty that is the sun.
And polyps grow on feet below -
Where the grandeur is forced to shun.

Grey gritty gravel gets jammed
Between my toes,
And flies through a rolled up twenty
To stay wedged far in my nose.

If sinus’s are clogged like pours,
Scratched by a Cheetos finger,
The rocks get stuck and Id mocks
While the crush starts to linger;

Numbs the cavity where inside lives
A thousand hungry hippies
Sitting still until they see
A cloud up on a water lily.

So set out to feed their queen bee
Whom lives inside the skull
(And) demands, commands, yearns and pleads
To feel that numbing null.
Paige Miller Apr 2012
Let’s turn the world upside down
and fall into the sky.
Take my hand and we’ll reach
farther than the footprints on the moon.
Brush off the dust
and I’ll watch as the stars twinkle
in your eyes, impossible
is the space between our interlocked fingers.

Let’s sail across the ocean,
feeding fish and taming sharks.
We’ll swim to the depths
and tickle coral, watching
polyps expend.
We can lay out on sand
and let the sun turn water
into gas.

Let’s climb atoms
and build molecules,
untwist DNA just to watch
as it springs back, increase
ATP just to expend it.

Did you know that one electron
can make oxygen a free radical?
It builds up in your system
just to break you down.

One word can be the difference
between the truth and lie.
One choice can be the difference
between this world
and the next.
I’d hand you my heart if you asked.
Victoria Jean Feb 2013
This one is for the doctor who called me “delicate”
I think I missed that word in the thick textbooks about disease I’ve seen
This is for the lab technician who lost not one but two vials of my blood
Because I really wanted to help that new nurse figure out veins again.
This is for the stupid slogans on the walls
A fichus with the word peace under it, I'm cured.
This is for the geriatric room with the low table they always put me in
An arthritis patient means elderly woman, right?
This is for the negative tests and endless questionnaires about my health
Checking how often, how severe, and how much I care.
This is for the four empty orange prescription bottles sitting neatly on my desk
Red pills, and yellow pills, and white ones, oh my!
This is for the loud groan of pain in the morning I make before I even wake
Because why shouldn’t my roommate wake up when I do?
This is for the symphony of my cracking joints and creaking bones
Because violently trembling when you walk up stairs is so very ****.
This is for the manic googling at 4 AM,
Does this symptom mean anything? Is it just a quirk or side affect?
This is for WebMd, bless their hearts,
Who think that sniffles mean polyps and headaches mean cancer.
This is for the flights upon flights of stairs I climb each day,
Cats are considered ****, is panting like a dog?
This is for the cramping and shaking hands everyday
Because as a writer and artist I never even use them right?
This is for my mother
Who’s waited patiently with me through every doctor’s visit
This is for my best friend Lauren
Who missed three classes to take me to a clinic
This is for my nephew
Who is too big for me to pick up without grimacing now
This is for the wine I drank
And the bedroom basement I climb out of
And the backpack I heave around
And the school lunches I leave in toilets
It’s for the nights I have to stay in and the ones where I make myself leave
Because the only thing tough enough to stop me
Is me.
And I’ll tip my hat to myself for putting up such a good challenge.
It’ll just make it even more satisfying when I knock it the **** down.
Ari White Jul 2015
the future is a monster
made of taffy in my belly
she laughs at the stretching
muscle memory

her ants crawl out of my tissues
between the muscles
through  the fibers
until i cannot recognize
my bellybutton
my abdomen
my middle of the road

time birthed her mold
from an inverted riptide
without a navel
made of rust like polyps
and chandelier bones
she is growing and unfinished
there is no queen ant to ****
only uncertainty
stuck beneath blood
and over the hill

but if you can put the beast to rest
ease her mind enough to dream
to think of only impossibility
maybe a sugarcoated future
will only be a stomach pain
Lybia Tesserlata cheer your Aplomb
Though in fact your Act was meant for Defense
By feeding your Tenants each on their Comb
Then return your Shell by Deadly Cell's sense
Un-Surprising since Life on this Mattress
Blue and bleak as a Jungle should become
Given your Size versus Form in Distress
And sway your Foes to their Mouths become numb
And once the bubbles clear, might I suggest
To keep your Polyps for one more Function
When the Other comes, her *** swelled at Best
To win her Colours for Reproduction.
The Mum bless you be; Forever Instinct
Dear proud Inchordate; Forever Distinct.
T R S Jun 2019
Perhaps I've covered courage
in porridge pile polyps.

Some sewed such defiance
in my interspersed spaces with my trollops.

Often edges are so soft,
and had held on hearts of me.

But it's the *** of soup of knowledge
that lets me know what I can be.
Kate Lion Jan 2013
Oh that I believed in solipsism
All those fears of gossip would blossom in little polyps all over my mind
Making what everyone thought of me
Simply- everything I think of myself
Oh that I could reach the first impressions with an all-encompassing blindfold
And emerge from behind the curtain as the person I am in this moment
If ice cubes melt I surely don't exist anymore
Because that was years ago
So what am I?
Oh that I didn't believe in a God
And the only person to hide from was myself
Which in itself is impossible
But disappointing the only other person who knows of my existence
Makes it harder to find reasons to be permanent
Perhaps ice cubes are better for this reason
Becoming less and less significant as you warm them with your hands
Because
I don't want to be anything
To anyone
(Not anymore)
SøułSurvivør Jan 2017
We grow old like watches
The hands are stiff from work
Correct time reflected twice a day
A fact which leaves us erked
Having regularity
Becomes a real perk
Hearts left too long in the sun
Become completely ******

We grow old like plumbing
Springing lots of leaks
Number 1 is hourly
The other once a week!
There's orthascopic searches
The plumbers take a peek
While the polyps and fistulae
Really have us freaked!

We grow old like locks & keys
You know, the skeleton kind
We can't unlock our hips & knees
We can't unlock our minds
We can't unlock our senses
Eyes & ears go blind
We can't get out of fleshy jail
We're really in a bind!

We grow old like vehicles
Our wiring starts to burn
Odometers spin like crazy
While our wheels refuse to turn!

We grow old like parchment
We pour out like a cup
We count the beats of clicking bones
The old want to be pups
While the crazy youngsters of today

Can't wait to grow up!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/13/2017
Nightowl poetry (can't sleep EITHER! LOL!)
you are slow like daggers or
        cancer.

this is what it feels like to travel
on a discourse:

something about you metastasizes
in my mind whenever the silences
are no longer beautiful;

and just like that, I thumb a prayer
to the fallen obsidian,
this harbinger of marvelous calm.

sometimes all the rooms are white
and I am immersed deep into pallor –
when both our eyes do not meet,
I wring out a cockeyed miracle:

dragging the blood of the trees with me,
these bushy polyps,
   these benign volcanoes skin,
ashen and dull like a heart – these agonized
appurtenances, I gleam like light
   cut from the mirror and fade out
as my visibilities hide.

something in me smiles when you
are flattened out – cross-legged, interconnected
  unloose a star fettered somewhere deep where
hands cannot reach for the inside of a tomb.
  
  this suchness that when I feel your sensations
press their threats against my skin,
      you are a salutary squelch
in this pure-iron condition, or a heavy-earth machinery
   moving inside my marrow, that deep

  into death like a morning waist-high
with tears, walled in by requiems.
Mike Adam Jul 2016
Now on ocean floor
We garden with
Complete freedom.

Fantastic vines produce
Polyps, jellyfish and
Squashy pumpkins.

The old ways are forgotten

Speciation, classification,
Removal of forms from
This or that all undone.

Dragons laugh
Spitting fireballs
Which sizzle and lard
The sandy land.

Fantastic vines
Cling to surface
Tense and *******
Sun

Peach halves reunite
And passion fission
Fruits new flesh

And riding dolphin
Is the only bus

Now on sea bed
We reform our lives,
Give endless seed
Back to sky
Sharon Talbot Sep 2017
Under the surface sheen
In the carousel of the surf
And the churned-up foam
Turquoise-coloured drink
And beige dust storm
Swirling down
Brushing against
Corals and polyps
That will die too and
Join the round bodies
Of diatoms.
Stars of the sea,
Celestial show in the deep.
Dancing as they descend,
Toward the inevitable end,
The boundless dark
A plain of mud
Made ghostly by their larks.
I had just seen a program about creatures of the sea, including diatoms, or phytoplankton that photosynthesize. It fascinated me that something so tiny and delicate could be so important, fixating 20% of the air's carbon and 40% of marine carbon. This makes them incredibly crucial to life on Earth.
Ben May 2016
I guess my poems are a little too
Long Winded
Your interest gets blown away
In a monsoon strength gust of
Boredom

Be that as it may
I'll still scratch those bumps that
Show up on my knuckles from time to time

And I'll still keep that empty bottle of shampoo in my shower
And that translucent bar of used soap stuck to the floor
I'll step on it and pretend
That I don't notice

The clouds will gallop by
Polyps will form in my colon
My hair will gray
And so will yours
And one day
Hopefully
We'll both sit in a home
With a plastic mask strapped to our face
Long Winded
Trying to breath the air of
A changing time.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2019
your Hanging Gardens are Polyps of Neglect
and yet you set your jaw to the gasp at hand
in Awe of a Flaw at your command…
as your Pyramids sleep beneath Dunes
of Antiquity. the very color of Time.
your harps disassembled.
and your Cherubs lacking
The Craft.

your Great Wall is showing... as You horde your inner Mongolian.
and Yes; your Horses fret... but you can’t yet flee.
for dark Ziggaurats hold sway. and your Cuniform
lacks Character.
your Parthenon Anonymous. where all your Blossoms Purge
Elysium Fields of their burgeoning Rainbows. -
that only seem to Untie
when you want those.

For Life.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2018
some of my
dreams
stick to
my skin.

i had someone.

but
not anymore.
i have the polyps
of a false heart.
and a ****.

the
school play
of Hamlet -
I Have.

the
only bird
that knows
where the Trees
are.

I know
this.

at last.

but i'm fresh
out of
birds

and that's
the new
math.
James Floss Oct 2018
We are all precancerous
Just some degree away

The red spot on your nose
The dubious polyps removed

The tang of iron on your tongue
The itch that can’t be scratched

The trick to being precancerous
Is to be your most precocious

Live large; be positive; do
All you can in time allotted

Scuba dive; skydive
Learn how to tango

Follow your bliss
Treat this as this
Ironclad choke hold tightened
around pencil necked geek
stranglehold noose asphyxiated
courtesy mailer daemon freak

specifically America Online
server gremlin sought out meek
resplendently attired as Doctor sheikh
wordsmith scouted out as weak

cussed link within human league
surprisingly springing thru Lenovo
external screen, simulating sneak
issuing nary soundcloud when tweek

king "FAKE" childish
ploy regarding peek
a boo as preschool prankish charade,
emulating, feigning, gamboling as mystique.

Little did yours truly discern
unsavory fated deaf fete
incorporating cunning linguistic deceit,
whereat innocent naivete scourge did mete

undeserved pummeling thrashed thinker
savagely, sadistically, and sacrificially beat
mastah to ****** pulp frequent visitor
courtesy aforesaid web portal

unexpected encountering
heinous nemesis greet
ting this chap with
suspicious groovy and neat

out of vogue colloquialisms
circa nineteen seventies
dead giveaway handy dandy
blues clues poetic feet

toe tilly tubular (iambic pentameter)
maintaining quite exemplary
skill for Pete
sakes, blindsided,
hoodwinked, outsmarted...

mine acute intuitive
perception, albeit fleet
tin gully as laxative courses
thru lower gastrointestinal

tract analogous to
GoLytely/PEG Solution
preprepatory for gastroenterologist
to *** esse seat

of pants anatomy i.e.
derriere, whether polyps
populate and remove
if necessary tenamount

to separating chaff from wheat,
and if all's well that ends
well patient with sore tuckus,
nonetheless rearing

to experience healthy
gluteus maximus treat
ting him/herself to feast
like gourmand and eat...

dagnabbit blasting impish,
where dark shadows
house outer limits of twilight zone
pestiferous heterosexual binary

bugaboo with chutzpah
nabbed against gangland
style angry bird
twittering parakeet.

— The End —