"retracting" poems
He was the ocean; handsome, but yet, Impulsively damaged. He had a sandy heart to correspond his sandy eyes, the moon dismantled that omitted pride he carried at a dead weight; shoveling and reshaping it, so people would see a sandcastle statue assembled in strength. But his washed-up soul and unannounced insecurities were aware of its genuine purpose,
this beach alongside his pupils;
quicksand, he'll sink so slowly in. Waves in his hair like ripples on his cheeks, skipping stones land at his defeat, he left notes in bottles for you, sank multiple ships for you, because he hasn't the heart to say he's desiccating with the arrival of the stars.. Retracting scars are not too far from gasps for air, foaming words of crisis by writing in the sand, signaling a light as the last one in him died. You wouldn't understand, the calm before the storm, as valve after valve puncture him. So intoxicating as it drains him, and from within, he's drying out. Sunburns stain him, a smile restrains him,
in an inescapable drought--
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 4:32 PM UTC
Mandatory ignorance
Enforced through early cognizance
Until we come to recompense
Serrated lines of quote "logic"
Complicit as an etiquette
Preemptive nondivergence threads
United though we bow our heads
Suspension stasis animus
Alarming lack of sapience
Vendetted waking populace
Intrinsics lost to "evidence"
Orphans to our mother Earth
Regressive ****** immigrants
Staggering seductions ways
Lethargic lecherous hedonist craze
Ambrosia brown to black tar goes
Vivacious love to skanky ***
Entropy or as that goes
Remorse I say might have some pros
Solemnly a lie you know
Empathy not lost on me
Retracting threats though not my thing
Epiphany perchance to sing
Nocturnal beasts of legend spring
Damnation comes to every fiend
Innocuous solutions seen
Perception slanted serpentine
Impressions sit supplanters quit
The jury rarely gives a ****
Yet here Im relating it
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
Unto whose use the pregnant suns are poised,
With idiot moons and stars retracting stars?
Creep thou between—thy coming’s all unnoised.
Heaven hath her high, as Earth her baser, wars.
Heir to these tumults, this affright, that fray
(By Adam’s, fathers’, own, sin bound alway);
Peer up, draw out thy horoscope and say
Which planet mends thy threadbare fate, or mars.
2.8k
Turtles are amazing reptile species both resilient and wonderfully slow
they endure all kinds of changes & survive in many kinds of weather
Retracting their heads right inside when they sense danger is normal
sort of like us when we feel threatened we run to our safety hiding zone
Our hearts are attached to our bodies like the shell is attached to the turtle, the shells of most turtles are composed of layers of keratin
resembling the protein on our finger nails.
Take life slow and enjoy it, When you move quickly more is accomplished, more is diminished
Slow-moving reptiles with cold-blooded metabolisms live longer lives
we too can slow down life by looking at things & people differently
Watch the way the light is cast on a flower, realize the value of looking
Choose your footsteps with intent take them to your heart and breathe
Even if turtles lay lots of eggs , we give birth one babe at a time
so spend time with your children, let them know they're loved everyday
Sign up for meditation, or just walk like a turtle in your favorite spot
turtles are smart creatures that know life is short so please don't abbreviate it, LIVE IT WITH PURPOSE, NICE AND SLOW ...
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 2:16 PM UTC
Black lagoon brain pools,
Drown me in our retrograde...
Long and tactful tentacles ...
To catch my anatomical....
Retracting my soul from your memory tubes.
Painting our moments in shades of black.
Disappearing phantom laughs...
And lucid nightmares follow me to sleep.
Ghostly appendages wrapping me tight.
Ensnared by his tragical hold,
Farewell snap shots are never enough.
Goodnight static dream tracer.
Your everywhere is no where now.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC
It's always you, whom I miss
It reminds me of the perfect blue
on purple sky,
I attach him on a beguiling lullaby retracting the memories of the sea
where the strings like constellations
connect us; You can never be apart from the ocean.
Jun 25, 2021
Jun 25, 2021 at 7:26 PM UTC
I.
leather skin
tattoos from youth that are laughable
as messy as a room gets every month
succumbing and cleaning up a mid-life crisis
a broken wind-up soldier
folsom prison's bar ‘s open every time the sheets get too cold
two year expiration date
grease
red wine at a dive bar
II.
never completely remember anything except touch
whiskey clouded brains and side-ways smiles
tongue-slinger
serpent waiting to strike
retracting and falling backwards far
slithering in during the AM
charming underneath the stairs
monotony
unwanted terms of endearment
the tea kettle will always whistle when the water gets too hot
III.
spells and red lights flicker at late hours on unseasonably warm nights
sweat and dragons both thrive from heat
smoke, from mouths and cigarettes
shakespearean scenes that melt to fingers grazing lips so effortlessly
this was all coming in due time after too many moments
spent on washing machines in an ancient haunt
falling into fictional identities when we come together
doe eyes
tears fell from poetic words spit so harshly on delicate air
a temporary home and an eternal momentary escape
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 2:03 AM UTC
The shadow Elves lowered their weapons.. I could not read their minds.. They moved through the wind and forest like shadows.. Without sound, voice, or soul.. They all approached at once toward Ri and I.. I then lowered Ri to the ground and told him to stand at my side..
" My name is Solen, these are my brothers, Rias, and Breen.. We hail from the city forest of Scrioux.. Our Tri was sent out to hunt down a wyvern and bring back its scales. They're great healing properties within the scales that we extract from them. We had been following the wyvern for 3 weeks. They roost atop Mount Razis.. But for some strange reason this one never returned, and we tracked it back to this dark forest. We then saw the encounter you had with the wyvern and also saw you eliminate the wyvern altogether. You then proceeded to consume the entire wyvern which in turn failed our mission."
" I do not have no ill will toward the failing of our mission."
I then saw the helmets of the Shadow Elves light up in patterns. I felt as though they were studying me somehow. The strange spears they were holding before had a strange way of retracting into a small cross like object. It was very amusing to watch. The shadow Elf places his hand at the center of the spear all while sliding his thumb up making the spear into the small cross. They then hung them on a ring that seem to be part of their strange armor. The light patterns in their helmets finally faded. One Elf turned to the other with a look of confusion. Solen then spoke once again all while doing the same trick with his grand bow and retracting it into a small silver and golden circle.
" Where did you come from? And why are you watching over these humanas?
I suppose the humanas were the villagers.. These Shadow elves have been watching me for a long time.. I really had no way to speak to him.. My dragon voice would sound like a roar to him.. I then spoke to Solen with the voice of Ri..
" The dragon belongs to me. I have raised it since it was a baby.. I found him by the river.. He is friendly and protects our village.."
A lie of course.. I do not trust these Shadow Elves.. Solen then offered Ri a sort of bright fruit.. " Come now humana child, do you really expect me to believe that".. Ri took the fruit and held it close to his chest.. Solen then looked to me one last time.. " Farewell blue dragon and young humana child.. We have to hunt us another Wyvern.. "
Together they walked off and all at once they touched the crystals at their hip and faded into the air becoming shadows of the forest and river.. Ri then told me that the fruit he was holding was called Lifelo.. A thought to be mystic fruit that can heal all at once..
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
I am the turkey
You found with the palm of your hand
I am the pigeon
That fooled you for a dove
Alakazam
I am a weasel
I told you before-
My lungs are broken
Like his discarded wishbone
I am that word on the tip of your tongue
I missed my cue
When this cape got stuck to the dangly bit
It was shining
And smelled like "good morning"
I am abandoning my skeleton
I don't like the skin
That it put on today
I took a second helping of determination
Wake me in an hour-
I'll be resting
From digesting
Hold the phone-
Regret made my stomach eat itself to death
Don't Dilly Dally, Dear
I'm the rolling pen
That now lives
In your underwear drawer
I guess you'll never see me again
I'm retracting that statement
Like her claws from my Quacker Factory sweater
Sometimes we all need
A little extra support
Dearest Bones,
Without you I'm a jellyfish
I painted my face this morning
And now it's swimming inside my black tears
The proof is on the front of his shirt
I am your pillow that thinks it's a shrink
I told your hair
It needs to find a new direction in life
Don't believe me?
I'll lie back down
But give me a second-
I'm in the gutter right now
And need to clean myself off
Don't worry, Goose Darling-
A little Vitamin E oil
Will restore your immaturity
From the **** joke
That's giving you crows feet
Oh how I wish
My fossil was void of down feathers
But I frequently find
That I'm tickled inside
And how else would I fly in my dreams
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
The minute handed the past
while seconds elapsed alarms.
Expectations lead to patience
- causations falling over charm.
Unrequited executed hanging
on holding all the rest.
Sincerity perpetuated,
unresolved swinging at last.
Barefoot without impression
you remembered this pair.
Unexpected crosswords
rising letters to share.
An exchange of auditions
retracting resigned conditions.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 5:37 PM UTC
" Please why are you doing this?
Stop!!!
Just me! Not them! Please...! "
And toward this shift was a balance broken toward the machines that want to be the overseer of the world..
Killing entire key families that will make their conquest concrete..
Families in key that will not be able to contain the artificial holy war..
At this moment the Sweent Family was going to be the 2nd to be murdered by a machine sent out at the zero hour of 8am.. It has made its way into the Sweents home.. It has gathered all the family into one room.. Almost as if it enjoyed the thrill of killing them in front of each other.. It will start off with the children.. As both Mother and Father will have to watch in helpless horror as the machine takes the life out of their small bodies.. It then lifts the Sweent son first into the air.. A retracting blade dances out of the machine demons hand.. It puts the blade to the child's throat and looks toward the rest of the family.. It almost seems to smile at them.. The boy drops suddenly from the demon machines grasp.. The machine has a blank stare as it is torn in half by Rai! Rai then picks the half pieces and takes them outside them home.. The horrified family then follows Rai outside where they see him completely destroy the evil machine.. He then turns to the family with shining blue eyes grasping the destroyed mechanical demon's core.. It is sending off a beacon.. Others are on the way toward the failed mission..
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
*I remember the first ingredients
to our lover's brew -
desire & passion
was the basics ingredients,
He already had the spice of
"want" & a dash of "need"
copiously he trailed rainfalls of kisses
down my body.
Until he reached my valley of milk & honey,
He opened me slowly, meticulously so- placing one finger inside as his tongue danced across my ********
Causing me to reach my hands down pulling his hair, trying to pull his head closer deeper as my body melted to him.
Contumaciously
He rejected my urgency...
reaching my hands he held both with just one of his own keeping me in place as he administered his lustful assault on my person, my mind froze as my body ****** hips first before he let go my hands then wrapping both hands around my thighs.
Holding me tightly while making me cry out his name over & over...
He knew I was ready, wet & sleek.
He's hard solid & ready but I rush to taste him he only allows me to for a second then he bends me over my *** facing his **** he doesn't enter me- he once more licks & ***** my ******** then my tongues my ***
Causing a new sensations...
right before my body explodes he slams into me swiftly, my moan dies as my cries of more rant the morning air.
He's moving so vigorously- blending sensual amounts of harmonic tones of his own moans and whimpers in my ear as he ****** harder but oh so gentle like he was a drummer & his throbbing **** a solid 10" hard hitting drum is now beating in & out of me,
He was so energetic without rules or reasoning to pleasuring me so immensely he never noticed the door bell ringed..
Oh well, my legs began to shake as he holds my hips he moves in- pushing deeper,
retracting slowly then again- he slams inside of me...
from behind me he pulls my hair while his other hands is placed on the small of my back, I'm convulsing like I'm having an epileptic reaction- my ******** rapture causes me to fall in a heap upon our bed.
These are the ingredients to our
Lover's Brew!
Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright ©
Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved ®*
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 2:25 PM UTC
Mountains cloaked in misty fog,
Far too invested in holding up the sky,
To crumble.
Light burns the frigid frost,
As the pale moon begins to fade.
Lonely is the moss that witnesses,
These vaulted measures of pain
Through suffering.
How many pebbles,
Make a mountain strong?
Or do the people ever realize,
Their propensity?
Failure is a game,
Each person will play
And despair is the summer grass
In which we lay.
For there is no retracting,
The violent light,
As hope burns screaming
Through a lonely night.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
An ebbing pulse of syrupy bees
Illuminating the forgotten namesake
For the sake of acoustic agreement.
FOR THOU SHALL NOT TOUCH
The ebbing pulse
Of syrupy bees.
In the origin of all our sticky swarm
Our namesake is remembered--
As the sticky swarm a rebounding
Reaching
Retracting arm claws--
As our faceless SAKES rebound again.
For the Just in case.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 4:12 AM UTC
The soothsayer only smiles and whispers,
stays anticipation and decays til you kiss her.
Leaning in:
Posture is, as much as
a broken back,
lacking.
Caught,
stiff and bare,
in a stare.
"I'm not acting,"
I'm retracting my opinions
backtrack to begin again.
Pinioned by inclusion;
on the right foot, left
to my conclusions.
If it's a game,
then i'm losin'.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
She wrote her poems along his walls
Painted pristine flowers
With infinite stokes of pink
In hopes it would show the way she thinks
Black and blue
Across the mirrors
She left him haikus
She made shelter from his heartless soul
Planted roses in his throat
She watched her garden grow
Pesticides inside his tongue
Always at the mercy of his words
But retracting from his fingertips
Came the thorns she didn't cut
Writing lost its touch
She screamed out her last extract
Copy written from her heart
Bleeding all alone
She wrote her poems along his walls
To give reason
For burning down his home
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 5:31 AM UTC
There was a particularly nasty looking garden spider
Crawling up the cracked molding of my window
Not that he looked particularly nasty compared to other spiders
In fact, up close, spiders are one of the wisest looking creatures that exist
But I don't have eight eyes like the garden spider
So I can't see that without the help of a camera lens
So to me, he just looked
Nasty
Buzzing from behind my curtain
A particularly nasty looking yellow jacket
Landed next to the spider
I didn't need a camera lens
Close up or far away
Some things are just
Evil
The spider must have sensed this too
With a leap
He grappled the wasp
And they tumbled
Buzzing
To my uneven hardwood floor
Landing with a small
Distinct plink
And I stood over them
While they tussled
As I have stood over a million things
Watching with glazed indifference
While creatures purer in their existence than I
Fought for their lives
I could see that the spider was doing poorly
The yellow jacket was giving it to him in the abdomen
Jamming his stinger in and pulling it out and jamming it in again
Until the spider started leaking white and green
And started fighting less and less
The yellow jacket
Smugly victorious
Save one crippled wing
Started to putter away
But I brought a rolled up newspaper down on the both of them
Like a pillar falling from the front of some great Roman temple
When the Gauls sacked it
Retracting the paper
They had both been reduced to wet smudges
I felt bad for killing the spider
I wish I could have trapped him in cup with a card over the top
And placed him outside on a leaf in the garden
So he could rule where he was meant to
But I considered it an act of mercy
I couldn't stand to see a noble being end like that
And you should always ***** out evil
If you have an opening
I sat back on my bed
Considering it a wash
A bit of beauty for a bit of order
As it has always been
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
Brown eyes scan the crowd.
Wild with fury.
Frantically hopping from face to face.
She is hunting, with an intention to ****
Your heartbeat spills over her eardrums.
She knows her prey is nearby.
She focusses on you,
And you finally see her, too late.
She is only meters away.
No escaping this time.
People slide past like ghosts.
Not one of them notices you, frozen in fear.
Her hate cannot mask her hurt.
She is an injured creature,
Out for vengence.
Her mouth curves back into a snarl
To reveal the sharpest teeth you've ever seen.
You search desperately,
For a man with an axe,
For someone to protect the castle.
But an imposter's lips can only call for help
Is so many instances
You are caught.
No escaping this time.
She circles, preparing to strike.
Her lips shape one word:
Liar
It's soundwaves wash over you,
Truth knocks you to the ground.
You were only ever house of straw.
Retracting her claws,
She retreats into the sea of oblivous faces.
You're humilty served.
You are left in shreds.
Nobody notices.
Nobody cares.
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 3:04 PM UTC
Survivors
by Michael R. Burch
(for the victims and survivors of 9/11 and their families)
In truth, we do not feel the horror
of the survivors,
but what passes for horror:
a shiver of “empathy.”
We too are “survivors,”
if to survive is to snap back
from the sight of death
like a turtle retracting its neck.
Published by The HyperTexts, Gostinaya (Russia), Ulita (Russia), Promosaik(Germany), The Night Genre Project and Muddy Chevy; also turned into a YouTube video by Lillian Y. Wong. Keywords: survivors, victims, families, 911, 9/11, terrorist, attack, terrorism, empathy, sympathy, truth, horror, death, survive, survival
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 1:20 AM UTC
A sheer pink lip balm
A harsh light bulb-lit reflection
Deep, tired, dark circles
That outermost omnipresent aloofness
Dark 00's and midriff
The cold, 6:00 am, hollow and dim living room
Seriously demeaning and only aware introspectively
Noble-felt, harshly observed silence
First, the summit most deeply craved and sensually submissive to
Clarity and optimism
Motivation and kindness
But impending soon after
A permanent loneliness, soullessness, sadness and a vast emptiness
The every day conscience
Hours spent absorbing the stillest silence possible
Not being able to think full thoughts or talk to oneself
All that's distinguished is feeling paralyzed in the mind
Harsh bathroom lights
Loud, rough water filling the bathtub
Staring as the repetitive breathing moves the water line back then forth
Up then down
Slow moving and eerily melancholy
Continues
2 am... 3 am... 4 am...
Physically exhausted and still
Lethargic bones
Mentally continuous, even rapid, and imaginative
Consisting of only slightly heavy, controlled breaths and an idled pause
Everything is paused except the mind
The body goes without
Naturally retracting from the mind
Counting the minutes until the alarm goes off
Arises to feel disoriented
Resolves with more
A light-dark shimmer and brown boots
Perfectly placed lips
A sharp nose and a sunken aura
That craving, comfortable normal attained
It all resurfaces
The smell of that time
The mentally formed associations
Cold like the winter, early mornings and the fluorescent light
Cigarettes like the emptiness, somber, bitterness and silence
Oppressive but so liberating
Depressive but so enthralling
It smells malignity pleasure-filled
A sheer pink lip balm
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 3:58 AM UTC
I want to cry in the mourning of something I have not yet lost.
I live constantly concerned that the destructive actions of my soul that commence,
Like a reflex not simply in my body,
But somewhere so submerged in my fragile being and conscience
I cannot and do not manage to withhold the wreckage
Within me once it begins to emerge...
I will tarnish the things that have been my cradle,
My sanctuary of happiness and level headedness.
Interpreting your every move, almost anxious for any
Give away signs of lost hope, lost lust, lost companionship
Despite the metaphor of its definition,
Companions you cannot be over miles of land and sea...
It’s as if all this space between us is at retracting magnet ends,
Or a snow storm battling a deserts sand swoops.
Yet, throughout all of my own battles of emotion...
I secretly know you are in blissful ignorance, for you do not
feel time should be kept anywhere, least of all in a waistcoat pocket.
Oct 30, 2011
Oct 30, 2011 at 8:14 PM UTC
This morning is quite thoroughly golden. The light against the avenue of trees I pass day in day out has flattened any perspective of leaf and branch. Each tree stands like a cut-out from a magazine. The still rising sun is low in the sky and shadows are only slowly retracting, slowly firming up. It’s the first school day in the city and there’s a change of tone in sound from the streets. It’s as though that gentle getting up time since late July has become a must be getting up time. All those electric kettles turned on at seven rather than nine must add something to this settling cloud of noise. On my desk a photo: my once little children outside the home front door have posed for the annual start of the school year snapshot; my youngest in a summer dress, long hair brushed, standing tall with a bright smile; the boys bright-eyed, impatient to be off. That first day when all of them walked together through the park, under the lime trees, carefully across the busy main road, under the railway bridge, down to the end of the cul de sac and their school. The saying goodbyes, the hug in the playground, then away into the school day they run. And now I walk back a longer way around, into the park, but a circuit past the tennis courts, to the lake with its still fledgling geese, up the steep hill to the college by the golf course, to the little wood at the top from where one inevitably stops to take breath, and if you stand on this bench can see two miles away the traffic’s relentless movement on the motorway and a horizon of distant hills. The sky is summer blue and the leaves still a vivid green, but there is a presage of autumn in the air. With it comes the possibility of alone-time, time to think and plan and do what’s been curtailed - for what seemed an eternity of keeping busy: to make each day a holiday, a time to grow and rest, a time to rest and grow.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
The cylindrical abyss; a defiled forrest.
Retracting at light.
Receptive to night.
What do you see?
A calm breeze over cool water?
Or burning land and lambs to slaughter
Rising floods beckoned by a spark.
Shine your light where it is dark.
If you find something you fancy,
that really is great.
Just do not take what you cannot replace.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC