"quartz" poems
The burning flowers underline the sunset and
Dash before the fire (k)night catches them.
Ripe berries cheaply
tremble
but hopefully their vitality won't burst the pulp pulsating
beneath.
Crumbling flowers
crumb the floor
And Prisms of catching silver refract rose quartz and petal
and crimson
dust.
Bejewelled in Scarlet,
the air,
as the (k)night approaches, grows colder,
Unsure of whether he will bring
solace or strife.
In his chariot
he flies faster than the bees which buzzed around the fruit flutes
in the morning and among the trumpeting bluebells.
Stars fleck the (k)night
like freckles
and the milky ways resins stain his spouting steams lovely.
The (k)nights kind onyx reaches his crescendo and the floating moon danced drowsily through the cloud's spiralled tendrils
Which diminish as dawn
approaches
so their Tentilcles
droop to crinkled tissue paper sheathed in pink.
And so the (k)night
rides on into
The frivolous sunrise.
The lowing, glossy calves
in sage beside the ***** fields
cast a beloved ambience
As though
we are safe
in the knowledge
that the sky will remain
forever
topaz and the leaves
forever emerald.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
Of death
the barber
the barber
talked to me
cutting my
life with
sleep to trim
my hair—
It’s just
a moment
he said, we die
every night—
And of
the newest
ways to grow
hair on
bald death—
I told him
of the quartz
lamp
and of old men
with third
sets of teeth
to the cue
of an old man
who said
at the door—
Sunshine today!
for which
death shaves
him twice
a week
14k
This isn't Rome
I'm standing still because of statutes
Stone grill: I a carved marble statue
not a muscle dares,
Near frozen by the fear,
let it go I hear
over shoulder: perfect pass
if I get shot over a penalty
Is it clear?
my arms are arms?
a load chopper; in his shades,
do those aviators make me even darker?
(if I studied aviation I could take off I can hover, I can…)
Wait.
he's moving closer,
every hair strand an antenna,
I can feel him,
The smell of disdain on his glare,
stained blood on his hands,
another brother,
my brother
Guiltier with every pace so
-- show your hands,
foot mixed with concrete
I take this order serious,
my motions are motive
and mistaken for resist,
Wait.
Is it his stare or am I ******
(Why did I decide to go my friends wouldn't believe this…)
limitations to the thoughts;
am I arrested or caught?
I'm cold on the surface,
Erode so slow is my sediment evidence,
A blue god so I'm pacified,
I'm hesitant,
he calls and I say that I'm innocent,
I'm witnessing
the transitioning from eruption to ocean
-- volcanic
Blue Medusa,
can you only sculpt destruction?
(I'm not 3 dimensional, I'm real and I matter, I'm real and I matter)
I'm real,
But I shatter,
Gravel if determined that I'm rude so I can't breath,
Gravel if My license plate removed I don't leave,
I don't speak,
I don't flee,
I'm not free,
I believe,
That this happen to my mothers, mother
mothers' brother,
Brother from another was granite
and granted he's valuable
but only in a home
-- of course
I'm quartz in the making
A corpse still shaking
Cause a wallet was mistaken
Or I.D. was misplaced
So, I'm on the rocks
since the bar says that I'm a criminal,
velvet rope divider marks my life
and a vigil,
a wake,
or a hashtag,
you choose,
glass house,
Cold Stone’s,
rocky road,
Medusa licks his finger tips
same finger which
petrified me in the first place,
Reminded I'm in Rome
as I'm standing there motionless
a statue for display
or a trophy for the kitchen,
this art is not for sale
there will be no shipping,
With solidarity
through our solidification,
It won't matter if I look back,
I Matter and I’m Black.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
Color of lemon, mango, peach,
These storybook villas
Still dream behind
Shutters, thier balconies
Fine as hand-
Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch.
Tilting with the winds,
On arrowy stems,
Pineapple-barked,
A green crescent of palms
Sends up its forked
Firework of fronds.
A quartz-clear dawn
Inch by bright inch
Gilds all our Avenue,
And out of the blue drench
Of Angels' Bay
Rises the round red watermelon sun.
9.9k
my heart flutters at
the way she speaks my name.
"lover", she hums,
and i watch speechless as woebegone
drips from her lips. she
tastes like moonlight
when she kisses me. fragile.
unknown. known.
when our bodies meet
i can't imagine living life any
differently than this;
magnetism draws me closer and
i am intoxicated and sobered and
and i let my fingers
trace symphonies over her skin
love songs and love letters
and the lust of
knowing that this is belonging.
we fold into each other
and it is inevitable. i want to
learn her, learn
every part of her, as if
it's what my soul was sent to do;
her heartbeat weaves a
gossamer of beauty and
she leaves it in the crease of my
neck. "lover".
lightworker. twinflame.
architect of this home, these
two arms that sing safety
into rose quartz bones.
this is harmony.
i release a held breath and
whisper back, "always".
this is my promise.
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 10:33 AM UTC
;heart made of metal, you're too hard to soothe
as an iron ***** you coldly shine smooth.
n head full of ember, your trickily burnt fire-
With its heat licks my lips, scolding hot with desire.
And then
Voice made of water,
may you speak of unknown
rivers lakes- oceans blue
Typhoon and cyclone.
And soul made of moonstone- may
outwardly you shine,
Dance, scintillating- a
pure serpentine.
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC
Aquarius ♒️
~~~~~~~
Aquarius the symbolism for the water carrier.
Quite an important member of our community
Under spells by an association of the heart
Aquarian crystals are Garnets and Amethyst
Rainbow moonstone, Labradorite, Magnetite
I would buy thee Lithium Quartz ,Moss agate.
Under your care placing Crysoprase n Cryolite
Some Rainforest Jasper for love of this lady.
~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip
December 18th 2018.
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 2:27 AM UTC
You don't need the smoky colored quartz dangling in your hair,
Or the liquid rubies painted onto your soft lips,
Or the powdered gold dusted onto your eyelids to hide the look of pain.
You don't need the silver buttons strung up your shirt to make your aura seem pure,
Or the perfect pearls around your throat to tease and allure,
Or the obsidian skirt hugging your thighs to add the finishing touch.
You don't need the diamond blade to make you bleed imperial topaz onto your marble floor,
Or the laxatives made of howlites to cut your figure thin,
Or the breast implants made of danburites to make you seem attractive.
You are worth more than the emeralds that people compare your eyes to.
You are worth more than the sapphires that make up the water in your body.
And you are worth more than the taaffeites that compose the air you breath.
You are a perfect angel without the expensive things.
Just sing sweet lullabies of the truth and be yourself,
To ensure you live in a beautiful reality.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
A princess made of bubbles.
Flowers open to reveal
a world
where the ants congregate.
Light drips and pours
little rivers through trees that grow pockets, holding dust
that makes you sneeze sparkle streaks.
Watch out for the grass that looks too green.
It'll tickle your little feet.
The purple fields are much nicer.
As soft as the lime green grizzly who lives in the cave
made of quartz.
Lay down.
Listen to the song of
Kistin.
The king, the leader.
The buffalo who keeps the peace
and keeps it all in the pretend.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
blood red diamond
tops tender green emeralds,
rose quartz and morganite
in a feast of polished deposit.
teardrop laden,
glistening against the stirring sun,
the world waits in dew.
crystal drops wink,
the blood diamond contemplates emerald tightrope,
slick escape.
with a bubble here,
a drop there,
Little Lady Beetle
attempts to dry its wings.
the flower that rests beneath
bends low,
and too shimmers
like a July sparkler.
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 4:01 PM UTC
Capricorn ♑️
~~~~~~~~
Capricornian don’t mind me. I can’t live as you.
As you have the highest of standards always.
Peridot,Garnets, Agate or Turquoise to wear
Ruby’s grace a beautiful young maidens hair.
I can see the jewels in your eyes as you smile.
Carnelian stones or Malachite for soul healing
Or Jet ,Smokey Quartz or shiny Black Onyx.
Red Garnets,Blue Aragonite,Green Tourmaline
Nonsuch is the birth symbol ,graceful as thee
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
December 19th 2018.
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 8:34 PM UTC
Amethyst ,
Greek for not intoxicated
A gemstone of violet colored quartz
once believed provided protection
against becoming intoxicated
Black Butterfly , a book about transformation and rebirth after death
But I don't know where the stripper
drama comes in
The rest is life ,
compartmentalized
into daily drudge
Oh , but for the last dregs
of glory
at the bottom
of the bottle of life
The electric breath that once
activated every nerve cell
of your being
into ecstacy
has become a distant emoticon
that was once closer
than shadow thin
But now has become the one
living in a graveyard
with hopes
of raising dead dreams
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
There is nothing wrong with being attracted to beauty
it is a beautiful thing
magnetics and irony
amethyst and memories
black fist of power
proud ovaries breathe melanin magic
hearts of silk spun
resilience is narcissistic too
you know
revolution can declare martial law too
maybe it already did
you would not know yet
the coal used to be us
now we are diamonds
stolen from the earth because of our sheen
our glimmer stuns the most magnificent darkness
a teal sunset sparks the imagination
hallucinating smoking quartz
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC
A dream tree, Polly's tree:
a thicket of sticks,
each speckled twig
ending in a thin-paned
leaf unlike any
other on it
or in a ghost flower
flat as paper and
of a color
vaporish as frost-breath,
more finical than
any silk fan
the Chinese ladies use
to stir robin's egg
air. The silver-
haired seed of the milkweed
comes to roost there, frail
as the halo
rayed round a candle flame,
a will-o'-the-wisp
nimbus, or puff
of cloud-stuff, tipping her
queer candelabrum.
Palely lit by
snuff-ruffed dandelions,
white daisy wheels and
a tiger faced
***** it glows. O it's
no family tree,
Polly's tree, nor
a tree of heaven, though
it marry quartz-flake,
feather and rose.
It sprang from her pillow
whole as a cobweb
ribbed like a hand,
a dream tree. Polly's tree
wears a valentine
arc of tear-pearled
bleeding hearts on its sleeve
and, crowning it, one
blue larkspur star.
3.5k
In all our haunted houses
Are ghosts just wrapped in sheets
And the vampires and werewolves
Havent been seen in weeks
We diagnosed the children
Who heard voices in their rooms
Now all they do is paint the walls
In crayola crayon hues
And the monsters under our stairs and beds
Seek refuge in our closets
As we boiled imagination down
To vibrations in quartz deposits
Jun 20, 2011
Jun 20, 2011 at 8:40 AM UTC
i will hold a gun to my throat myself,
yet somehow,
it is less violent
than the casual words of a god.
mad girls don't cry wolf;
they die. they disappear,
like cobwebs in a darkened corner.
in the shadows, watch me dangle
with a slip knot of fuchsias.
in the shadows,
watch me dig this body up,
until there is a layer of skin
and black lips and lithium quartz
and clichéd promises
you haven't touched.
after all, archaeology is
just an excuse
to look straight at my remains.
in the shadows,
let my skin cave in;
i will take everything down —
every misery, every deception,
every corruption, and every light.
i will ***** out the ******* sun
if it kills me,
leaves me cold as bygone walls.
yet somehow,
it is less violent
than to be loved by a god, until he doesn't.
to be loved by a god, but it isn't.
to be loved by a god: a euphemism, at best
to be loved by a god
is the curse.
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 2:04 AM UTC
It could be my lack of faith or the fact that this rose quartz has yet to bring me the love it should. It could also be my lack of self acceptance but I will never admit that.
I hope you when you're driving down the interstate, closing in on the exit you seek, you remember I'm not that far away.
And I hope one day you'll wake up and know that I would rather be anywhere with you than in this summer heat dying for the rain.
It could be my lack of faith or the fact that this emerald didn't bring me **** for luck. It could also be my lack of self esteem that brings me to his bed dreaming of you.
One day I'll wake up and wish the best for you and your new life... And one day I'll wake up in my room sober instead of drunk and lustful night after night.
And I hope one day you'll wake up and remember that I'm not that far away... And you'll wake up and know that if clean my **** up if you would just stay.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
The time’s may have changed,
days aged our bodies
but you are still wholly
yourself, only more
magnanimously
magical, which says
something, because
your oeuvre was such
already.
An aged wine of light
shining like sacred
grapes made of quartz in
the field’s center.
I remember when
you guided me to
the fox. I can still
remember when you
were sprouting—
sacred knowledge to
me in the back of
the school bus. But now…
dots are connecting,
I’m remembering
my fire ether
name. Your knowledge had
pollinated me—
sure took time
to take root, and ferment,
but now it is
a very good year.
It’s time to uncork!
A party army
awaits, clad in such
an iridescent
armor armed only
with <3 - shaped fire
on torches, ready
to burn down rotten
rickety aged
bridges built of dead
green ink-stained wood, all
converging on a
barren cliff so we
may ignite skies and
shine in darkness.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
Exuberant he is!
That’s a Yogi with character!
Smiling, treat wallah.
Pyramid quartz.
Dangling sparkles.
Sunlight reflects
His teeth softly open to the world.
Taste buds willing
Simple yet refined
Yogi Yum Yums
Spreading the thunderous joy
Of pure delight!
He gives permission to say “GOD”
He sits.
When no one is around
In the hall where Shiva dances to his music.
Pulsing the instrument
Harmonium glimmering with song.
Goggles on, ready and shimmering
He booms a great confidence,
The resounding sound:
SHRI RAM
JAYA RAM
JAYA JAYA RAM
SHRI RAM
JAYA RAM
JAYA JAYA RAM!
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
✿⊰✲⊱✿
"She's finally here!" Sue claps as we all rise
from our seats and walk to the Ballroom.
There they are, atop the marble steps!
Queen Donna and Dean of proud Vesian,
both dressed in bright red. The couple faces
each other with loving smiles as the cacophony
of cheers and claps echoes through the great
Luciuscemi Palace.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
From afar, I study Donna's beautiful gown;
the shade of wine, made of velvet, her sleeves
long and puffed. Her bodice embrodiery is
extraordinary; patterned with red Rose of Vesian,
but since her marriage, she added a white
one. The embrodiery comes alive under the
light of chandelier; glittering with intricately
cut rubies and agates and sunstones for
Donna's red roses, emeralds and peridots
for the coiling stems and thorns, quartz
and white opals and moonstones for
the white roses.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
Her hair in a curly updo, ringlets framing
her wise and kind face with a simple white
diamond tiara resting upon her head; a simple
rose chain and earrings to complete her look.
In contrast, King Dean wears a deep crimson
coat of red and white roses brocade that falls
past his knees and above his ankles;
slits on the sides and on the back as well,
I imagine. I can see the black lining
underneath that fine coat.
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC
to the girl who takes words out of people's minds
who speaks in metaphors, touches thousands of hearts
to the girl who aches for her prince to find
her poetry where it bled in the sea of rose quartz
to the girl who lived for two decades today
to the one who loves to the moon, back and around
the one who sits at the back of the cafe
writing for people whom she surrounds
happiest birthday my dear mermaid of poetry
you've been staying strong for twenty years now
it takes time to be the great person you want to be
you just have to keep your head unbowed
and things may be hard, may be tougher than this
and deadlines will keep trying to break you down
when the time comes you think you won't ever experience bliss
remember you're a mermaid, you can never drown
you've already been living for 7,300 days
eighty season changes in mermaid's time
you have survived all that crazy life chase
i think, my darling, you will be fine.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 1:04 PM UTC
***The flowers of beauty grow on rocks
In the beautiful Rock Garden
Enchanted dew-kissed flowers
Growing on the rocks made of quartz
Rain washed flowers dancing on the rocks
Where the Fairies come and drink
The sweet honeysuckle dew
The fountain pours forth it's water
Making this a relaxing place
Look at the Fairies
Dancing upon the stones
In their own Fairy garden
Enchanted by the Fairy Queen
Come and sit with me upon the boulders
And we'll watch them for awhile
And take in the beauty around us
Look at the dew-kissed flowers
And the rain washed hill
Glittering in raindrops
That sparkle all across
It's rich green cloak
Look at this place and you've
Seen the Fairy garden
Where Enchanted flowers grow
And bloom
And unfurl their soft sweet petals
Towards the Moon***
~Marian~
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
341
After great pain, a formal feeling comes—
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs—
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The Feet, mechanical, go round—
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought—
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone—
This is the Hour of Lead—
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow—
First—Chill—then Stupor—then the letting go—
2.9k
Jordan gave me rose quartz prayer beads. Freddy picked me up and spun me around.
I kissed the beads and kissed my hand and blew it to the stars, over and over again.
Thank you universe, for the kind hearted people you have dropped into my existence.
Thank you universe, for the good music, the good **** good wine, and good company.
Thank you, for the smiles, the laughs, the cigarettes, the numbers given out on backs of receipts.
Thank you for the swing sets, the campfires, the coffee and tea, the cars we drive around in.
Thank you for emotions.
Thank you for the feeling I get when someone kisses my forehead,
the feeling when someone compliments my smile,
the feeling when I notice the moon for the first time that evening.
Thank you, for the moon, the stars, the clouds, and the autumn breeze.
Thank you for the sounds, the crickets, the leaves rustling, the clinking glasses,
and the sound of small kisses.
Thank you for the snort I get when I laugh to hard.
Thank you for the bass, the guitar, the drums.
Thank you for the shouts, the soft spoken, the loud, and the whispers.
Thank you for the doors, the staircases, and the windows.
Thank you for everything that ever was, is, and will be.
Thank you for the indefiniteness of the now.
Thank you for everything.
I once read in a book, that the likelihood of our proteins folding just so to make us what we are is comparable to that of a twister rolling through a junkyard and assembling a jumbo jet.
This is something I like to remind myself daily.
It is so miraculous that we are here today to experience everything and everyone around us, and be able to document and share it.
I hope one day someone can look at my photographs and writings and feel these immense and overwhelming emotions that I feel in these moments.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 6:10 AM UTC
*I don't know the rules. If I go looking
for grace and find it, what will grace*
be but penance for my past, a silver
sinew-thread wrapping 'round old
wrongs, gray hair for the
fickle.
I've naught but want for sweet release
from this history. The bombs ignored,
repeating in gramophone static
dripping stiff
*as wet bamboo. I remember someone
once sang here, once strung together*
chords so sweet they rang like peace-
bells beneath cloudless sky. They've
rang the bell upon my jaw and
done no wrong.
It's not so much unlike one's curiously
cold reception at a funeral. The cold
and rain ****** at the skin
during graveside hymnal.
*As long as the earth continues
its stony breathing I will breathe.*
That which I cannot help but do.
Stuck between boulders, I sing.
*When it stops, I will shatter back
into gravity. Into quartz.*
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC