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Ghazal Apr 2017
I've always wondered
What it'd be like
To make love in a tent,
Fragrance of soil and sweat
And urgent desire in the air,
With the dark sky lit up with
galaxies and galaxies
of stars and the letters of my name,
Punctuated by your breaths as you'd
Chant it like a prayer,
Risqué and **** and earthy,
Rawer than the last time,
Rawer than that time,
Whispers so titillating they'd
Make the silent night blush,
Make the dewy, green, lush
Grass curl its leaves in shame,
And send the river stream flowing
A little too hurriedly,  
And the clouds a-tizzy,
And the Earth a-dizzy
When I'd open my eyes, exuding
Fire through and through,
I know the sky would mirror me,
And undress into its brightest crimson hue.
I know if we'd make love that way,
The sun would rise earlier that day.
Morgan Mar 2015
I thought going to his funeral
when we were 14
& he was 15
would always occupy
the darkest,
most excruciating
space in my soul

Until her funeral,
when we were
all 16

But I was wrong,
both times

It wasn't losing
our wisest friend
to raging hormones,
****** parents
& a rope
that left the
strangest,
most mutated
bruise

And
It wasn't losing
our quirkiest friend
to striking anger,
a rainy night on
a windy road
& a sports car
that left the
deepest,
most potent
cut

It was losing you

And having this crushing
knowledge that you still
live in the town
that we grew up in,

you still light fires
in the back yard
where we used to
drink your dad's beer
and play his guitar,

you still sleep on the mattress
we used to drag down two
narrow flights of stairs
into your living room
on Saturday nights
when the stars were clear
through your sky lights,

you still drive that
Subaru outback
that's decorated in
dents & scratches
from all the times
we needed to
feel brave,

you still get the mail
at the bottom of
that dirt driveway
we scraped our knees on
every summer from
the time we were
twelve til the time
we were eighteen

And knowing that none
of that matters

The most unique agony
that's ever turned
in my stomach
is having this crushing
knowledge that
if I stretch my
arms out far enough,
I can poke you in your
puffy hazel eyes
but fearing you have
grown so cold
that my fingers
might just freeze
on contact

It's missing you
when you are so close
that I can smell
your tires burning
on the gravel
up Stone Road
but not being able
to hear your voice
the way I remember it,
all laced in
purple warmth
& yellow light

The selfish truth is,
at least I know why
Kris & Sergei
aren't with me,

at least I can tell
myself that if they
still existed on the same
earth as me at all
they'd continue to
tell me stories
sitting Indian style
across from me on
my kitchen floor

You're a rawer,
more lethal
kind of aching,

a more honest,
more dangerous
kind of void,

cause you know that
I am still right here
but it's not enough

You lost those friends too

You know how it felt

And despite all the breaking
you did for them,
you chose to **** me off
like some rotting
parasite in your
passenger's seat

I filled myself with
you for eight years
And if I could
be open with you
one last time,
I'd tell you that
I'm scared shitless
to tip myself over
and let that all
pour out
cause I don't
want to find out
that without you,
murky water
and slush
is all that's left

But like you always said,
"Let's ******* do this thing
before it gets away"
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2014
taking in early October
Vitamin D naturally,^
another too-oft-writ pretense that
Queen Summer yet smiles upon this
erstwhile, part-time,
nerve bundled human...

though facts contradict,
in summer uniform
he still emerges to bay and chair,
his confessional, his holy temple,
his Houdini escape chamber,
though the temperature
will not top 60 Farenheit

duplicitous as long as I can,
in this simple and so many other
lifetime items far-less-than-trivial,
incapable of obeying my brain's map
orders to cease and desist,
(or dress appropriately at least,)
to see the entirety of oneself
in the broadest of spectrum,
all colors unvarnished, fulsome,
truths rawer than any fictional 3D horror film...

what you do not know,
what you shall now know,
is Samuel Barber's Adagio For Strings
plays once more,
this time the strings
pleadingly command that now,
this time I write
unobfuscated and obtrusive...

(Ah,
those thrusting O words,
so employable, making a face shape surprised
into a rounded, somewhat circuitous
O)


decline to describe the decline,
the angle, the steepness
to-be-determined,
not to be denied for the extremities advise
the battle internal has commenced,
and without a band of brothers,
a solitary, wandering, knight-poet errant,
in search of a battle not,
for the embattlements within are
under attack...

yes errant,
off course,
of course,
the errant bay breeze
speaks to me one more time,
chiding the me-child like a goodly parent,
firm but gentle, modulating tween
just cold enough to make me shiver,
but enough not,
no, to drive me inside...

not knowing, that my inside nature
presently rebellious, all manner of riotous
transmissions beseeching pain medication

foolishness all this temporizing diversionary tactics,
the commencement is the commencement,
the beginning signal fires an ending,
a landing on runways unknown,

fear is not present,
how could it be,
I was warned once and then repeatedly,
so the brain begins yet another remapping,
contours of misshapen sensory inputs
distorted and then the  breeze
over my shoulders reads these words, and
disappears to comfort me by
unopposing the sun vitals,
letting them enter unimpeded...

so
smile creases appear
across poet's tempest face,
for though his hands
splayed and warped,
the trigger fingers stuck
and cannot pull,
the nubs obey the eyes
and solace him,
for as he promised himself,
to himself,
those poetic nerves
will write on
long after all the physical ones,
with errant breezes,
and summer peace,
gone, gone, gone...



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
^*(Oh! how that word personal,
Naturally, naturally
doth haunt me,
for mine own nature be the
leader of mine enemies allied)
Oct 5, 2014
steve colossus Aug 2013
There’s something about us
We’re trudging at the witchy hours
Laughter and moans simultaneously as we hit ruts,
Not complaining even when red and rawer
You call me “mad” and I said “you’re nut”
And we trudge on!

We’re frail, but we howl like tenfold wolf
Bloodshot eyes, I see a tink of red hue as we bark
“**** we’re loud” but I still can’t hear us yelp
We’re weak yet so destructive and we bring down landmarks
“Warring factions are here, please somebody get help!”
We band on!...........................to be continued
John McCafferty May 2020
Soft subtle touch
clutches from back to front
About face switched place
in role reversals
Airways are open
Feel a rawer version
of your person
Entrust this thoughtful lust
sought from top to bottom
Moving in sync as your
yearning burns
Deep frictionless sin
lived within bare skin
Born below the belly line
Sing as bells ring
Breathe in the aftermath
This beauty won't last
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
glass can Apr 2011
Oil slicks of sweat and grease are pushed up to the forehead in afterthought
Depressions under your eyes and cheeks are murky and dark and deep
made from too many days and nights
in a purgatory hell waiting for slumber
Mumble through the spit, you salivate at the idea of a thought
Your skin makes a scraping noise when you move and
broken-off hair lies in your hands,
blood is caked on your skin and nails and teeth
from a ferocity I cannot control or understand and
where did all these
scabs
scabs
scabs come from?
peeling and picking and flicking them off
undoes the perfectly sized wrappers on the wounds
and you are rawer than the day you were made

yelp and gulp, open your maw,
then scream as loud as you can
for as long as you can until
you are raw and rotten from the inside out
xmxrgxncy Aug 2016
We were better off together.

The late night conversations, the happiness, the snuggling into the covers ad sighing at sweet messages from a dimly lit screen

We were better off paired, like jeans--who wants only one leg?

The intake of breath when our eyes met, the constant need to be touching in some way, the flurry of butterflies we gave to each other

We were better off squared, where we could always protect each other

And now I'm left to wonder--do you feel as raw as I do?

Rawer and more exposed than I've ever felt, yet little to do to remedy it....I want that second layer wrapped around me.

But when I reach for it....it's never there.
just reminiscing about the past people....and how it's always ended the same. i can't help but think it's something i'm doing....
pilgrims Aug 2019
A reflection is shadow made of light.
I look at myself. “Who you trying to fight?“

You know he’s crooked cause his head is cocked.
It’s rebellion.
His past is in flames, he’s a hellion.
That’s why he don’t hear what they be tellin him.
He hears his own music.
He let’s it in, he grooves it.
It flows through his body when he moves it.
You can always be happy if you choose it.
Listen to the dope beats
and keep a couple close to your throne seat.
It’s emotion in wave form. There is no rawer art
or rarer reward. For if you truly listen
changes will start in the you-est you.

I was shocked too but I swear, it’s true.
All sorts of things will change you, if you let them.
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
I feel the ebbing flow
of venomous pain in my veins.
I feel the thoughts like bullets to my brain,
the emotions crashing down like turbulent waves.
I see the scars
rawer than before.
So here I am,
listening to music
louder than before.
Painting my heart
with more colors than before,
because it all hurts more than before.
over time my poetry rawer
my feelings for you flakier
be mine i wish to the heavens
yet leave me alone i whisper to my atria
as i count the last few days
where nods and smiles matter
i hope the viscerality of my feelings for you fades
or stacked in a box at the back of my mind
Yo my rhymes filter the atmosphere appear and reappear
Like a teleport take few snorts before I gather up my thoughts in my mental courts
Im Draining at least four quarts
Of ya blood I make hoes jump higher than Spudd
Webb to my flows down your gain goes
If you ain't down for the protocol I got homies and homettes on parole
Better yet death row callin' shots like a school prinicipal
Huh I'm similiar to the punisher strike emcees like Thor's thunder
Cocked the hammer enter into the slammer
Caged to the underworld as ya blood shining like pearls never Earl
Swallow my pride dry every verse
Meaning you thirst making the best of the worse
I curse
Lands like Gehenna laugh like a hyena
That means deaths it's circling around lookin' for carcasses on the ground
My vultures greed feeds a massacre
Breed
Sun Tzu student tactics made for prudent
Wise escape wrath while wrath laid wise
Through a million eyes you'll see a prefigured demons rise
No to worry it's just my entourage
Living it up large knockin' out the lards and frauds
Put a charge to ya brain
but I ain't talking uplifting I'm singing gats to ya melon
Clear the tears of everything that you fear
I be rawer then Eddie Murphy
So come and curse me
Only to release a stronger energy my synergy
Is molded concrete patent and no stoppin' this lyrical convict fromrappin' see what's happening?
Mitchell Nov 2020
Morning brought no diagnosis to the diagonal precision of the perspective in a multitude
In turn, I took the turn, and another, until I was with myself
Hello. Yes. Myself, my, I am here.
Let me be for a moment, without thought for the future.
There was a sound down the road.
My mother called my name.
That was not it.
Pressing my palm to languid concrete I foresaw the absence of my love for a country that would never - could never - love me.
Why.
Money loves money for money, not for the money getters heart.
I thought of Prague and when life was that much rawer.
Imagine life relived and simply seeking it without the jaded veal.
Gaze into the river.
Gaze into the sea.
It roars and laps without ego - solely action.
History is nothing but man's time, man's order, man's anxiety

To prove life - thus worth it.

Nature needs no validation.

Is is Is.

The romance of rotations night
Is in
It's indifference

I feast on the stars sovereignty

Wanting only to idolize

And to one day

Mimic.

— The End —