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SøułSurvivør Sep 2015
---

i

blue grey clouds
of crushed
velvet

sunlight
tears
the
seams


ii

embers of
delicate peach
ignite flames
of fuchsia

the orb of
sun burns colors
away to ashes

blown into floes
of white
mare's
tails


iii

tiny bird
settles restless
on the
highest
branch

flits
away


iv

wind
through
the weathered stones
cries then whispers

luring
the children
who lie within our ribs
to break free
and sing
songs
of
play


v

mamalaria
cactus
wears her
wreath
of
pale
lavender
flowers

sings to
her babes
clustered
below

saguaro
listens



soulsurvivor
(C) 9/13/2015
beautiful day rises up
out of the ashes
of a flaming
sunrise

---

To a special friend...
... thank you!
Tom Spencer Jul 2015
Summer morning -
pink jets of clouds
splash out
from the golden well of the east
falling just short
of an ebbing moon.

Streams of swallows
flutter and glide
over the garden -
they are all flying
in the same direction
as if erupting

from the sun’s waking pulse.
Just for a moment
one of the birds hangs
perfectly still -
like the top-most drop of water
from a fountain before it turns

to face the glittering pool.
Beneath them all
the hummingbird
makes her rounds
and a dove scratches the earth
below the feeder

keeping an wary eye
on the scribbling intruder.
So many summer mornings -
too many summer mornings
I have wasted
worrying about the world

and my place in it –
absent from my own body
and breath
the cage of my ribs
rising, falling, and pausing
without me. Meanwhile,

another swallow
stills her wings.
Buoyed by an unseen breeze
she is both feathered sail
and cresting wave as she slices
over my shoulder bearing west.


Tom Spencer © 2015
The thuds in my chest stopped being my heart a long time ago-
my feelings ceased,
and maybe me,
the initial person I was,
is knocking on my ribs
begging for freedom.
Throughout all the voices in my head,
his is the lowest,
getting tangled in with all the
killers that took him,
torturing him until he's nothing but a headstone.
You don't see it,
but I do,
how I open my mouth to speak,
and he's accepted I just won't accent my words the way he used to.
My disappointment tore up your eyes,
as you saw the person I was
formed by a web of lies I loved to string up,
and tried to pretend I wasn't struggling to
get out-
All feedback is welcome
I wanted to do something emotional, I hope this conveys that.
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Where do we meet
    Oh! No He_*
Getting onto
the next courses
Oh La- La "Cheri"
K>ANSAS>>City

_ Prime spot pretty

 let's >- jump ))) To Love
Please raise the horses

What a skirt steak in her
Petticoat Junction
Going to Kansas City affection
Different tribe or breed
What needs to love me
tender Elvis meet Beavis Buthead
    More  T.L.C  
computer DOC Tick Tock
IRS taking a meat beef
chunk is everybody drunk
IOS what is really the meat
Business Politician Trump

Subscribe well done
Cooked or rare spooked
Taking a Spin City kick
She got canned and licked
The prime meat hot seat

The ******* who arrives
first class steak knifes
Ms. Pork hard chew 
Mr. Beans second rate
Dark pumpernickel
Saloon *******, he
is eating
The young tender
chicken leg

High five thigh? Hands
up Robin Fly
Save the meat "let it be"
  "Let it Be" Beatles
The beat Colonel deep fried
Grade A rare meat slicing

Eating in a board meeting
The pig meat market
of pricing

Doe a deer
he loves
International beer
A very sensitive time
Slaughterhouse no way out
His poker face meets
potato heads beef jerky
Surrender Weds
maple smiles picky
The rich Syrup
Disney Mickey Mouse
Kansas City Wonder
meat house

The beauty of animals
"Moms kettle she is talking
to Parrots" meat
the market for rings riot
Six enemies making
6 rounds
Six servants 666 carats
Robin smiles heartily
"Campbells Chicken" little


He's the Beef Man stew
If you only knew

He's spitting tobacco chew
She peels the potato for the
meathead bad to the
T-bone Dachshund I Bone

Garlic knots heart of the
Sausage wearing the
meat corsage Superbowl
My sweet basil good soul
Grilling your bullhead
Pirate Ribeye steak pupils
Mr. "Billygoat" Bachelorette
Hair flat crepe Suzette

Moms Korean style fuss
coleslaw
what a seesaw
Playing Porgy and Bess
 Scarlet the red rare meat
Rolling stone baking pin
Mississippi one or two
Under my meaty thumb

Comes in three-4-5-6- Lucky 7
-Crazy 8 furries
Nine meat ribs-10 babies
with bibs
Hungry Man meat when!!
Country plaid tablecloth
"Kansas Men" of the cloth
The Pig approval
Kansas City Mayor
new arrival

Family together eating
Don't eat our animals
Why is life so unfair
Feeding the poor
with cans
The bad cut of meat devil
this is not the "Grade A"
This is not a ring
circus trainer Bullseye

Robin coffee animal-friendly
Two peas in a pod I pods
  I tune like Gods
Were the luckiest people to have
animals  

The Floridian with dog murals
Palm trees green thumb
plants sunshine events
The symphony dog tails
of hunts
Whats to compare her twilight
eyes hold the moment stare
Talk to the animal's hearts care
The barbecue all the meat men and the women who love their fruit listen to the Owl lady how she hoots those Kansas city slicker boots and the Hehaw have a good time with family and friends treat the animals with tender loving care
Corvus Mar 2018
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the slow braking of a car,
A seamless transition from driving to a standstill.
Sometimes you need to slam on.
And it never happens silently,
There's always a screech or a thud or a gasp,
It takes you by surprise and it lurches you forward.
You have to hold on for dear life.
The unexpected nature of it wreaks havoc on your insides;
Butterflies are woken up from your stomach and become nausea.
You check to see if all your limbs are intact, or in fragments.
Then you do the same for your heart,
Searching to see if it went through the windshield
Or if it managed to stay held inside by your unyielding ribs,
Only ever collapsing under the strain of breaths,
Hyperventilating into an airbag.
Some things don't end smoothly.
It's not the steady sigh of relief,
It's the jagged, shaky breaths that never fully extend
In or out, and there's no calming halt afterwards,
Just a process of continuously hitting the brakes.
b Oct 2018
i woke up to write a poem
i woke up to write a poem

maybe

i woke up to tell you
that the lips of love are soft.
that the touch of hell burns cold.

but youve heard that before and so have i.

so if

i woke up to write a poem
i woke up to write a poem

why even bother if the
words im looking for
havent made themselves
known to me.

they should be at my ribs,
knocking on the glass.
but instead they
dance like a child.
and hide like a fugitive
Corey May 2016
-butterflies caged by ribs,
a life begging to be lived
red heart beats in time
with the thoughts of my mind

but thoughts can fit through cracks
like the butterflies that are trapped
from mind to lips that part
but not passing through my heart

lips set the butterflies free
along with the feelings inside of me
yet I still feel lost
when I collide with my thoughts

my head is desensitized
perhaps my thoughts are the butterflies
their wings coated with beauty
but they can still come out rudely

although my thoughts are broke
when the words reach my throat
i long to fly too
like the butterflies that broke through

i won't hold my tongue anymore
butterflies free to explore
these thoughts begging to exist
a life begging to be live—
Collab!!!! with Victoria :)
check her out!
http://hellopoetry.com/ultravioletsx/
Malloh Nov 2018
There is no elephant in this room for everyone to see
It usually stays in my head just for me
It feels heavy as a reminder that it is there
Sometimes it hides under my bed
It stays waiting for me at night
Sometimes I think that it has left and that I'm free
But it crawls out quietly and stomps on me
It crushes my ribs and stops me from breathing
The memories come back
And I'm stuck there again
His hands all over me
Not being let go, not being able to leave
And then I'm back in my room
The elephant has left for now
My makeup is a mess and I'm bleeding
But it's normal by now
And this once, I wish elephants were extinct.
If you have an elephant too, I'm sorry.
King Panda May 2016
rain
mud and grass
common prayer
good weather
good people
art
and umbrella bags
because who wants to
get wet?
unless it’s with you
I could
I would
jump into the lake
for that rock
sew
cleanse
initials made in sharpie
and unclamp
we run
around the park
the afternoon surrounds us
the woman in the bikini
passes
and we laugh
iced tea
decaf coffee
cake without teeth
and that airstream camper
you always wanted
I could live in your
backyard
I could live somewhere
not here
in silver
prostrated
with my back to the
moon
like dead
like a mummy
like a mirror
and life would make sense
life would be beautiful
like this run
with perfect amounts of sweat
and conversation that runs
waves in the sand
and tells the squirrels
goodnight, tractor
see you tomorrow

and the land that billows
is dug up
and chewed
like a goodnight poem
this run with you
takes rest
on my soul
and I crack my ribs
to take the spring’s
twilight
aroma
Jess Balingit Apr 2014
In a city full of tall buildings and unspeakable views,
breathtaking unknowns and unfamiliar faces,
there are those sitting on window sills
chugging bottles of brew,
leaving cigarette traces

She spends her days in a haze,
sharing little laughs that make her ribs ache,
all in attempt to erase you
It's only then she sees,
an imprint on the
soul is the kind of
stain that can't be
scrubbed
Self-loathing, in all of its malignancy, whispers
"You're worthless,  just like him!"
my chest constricts, my ribs prison to a heart
that refuses to pound its percussive rhythm

The summer's dying!
the summer's dying!  
and I, I am a rose
shedding my bloom in protest
the winter's passing, my only hope

Songs of exodus soon fill the air as crows ascend
painting the horizon black like an empty womb
"They always go" I whisper "They always go"
their melody haunting to those of us bound to earth

"we must go now!" "we must go now!"
bright eyes gleam, as each one sings
"we must go now!" "we must go now!"
promising freedom to those with wings

Bending low and curling inward, I lay
as my petals fall down around me
fluttering about like broken wings
migrant hearts, like theirs need open skies

so I found my freedom in the letting go
M-E Jun 5
All my life is counting
    on you my sunshine
        without you, its dark in here.

I weight your rays on my ribs
        My ribs are the balance
              For your timeless dance
Rammstein - Sonne
zebra Feb 2017
forgive me my darling
hollow beauty
but seeing you so gaunt
with
sunken dark eyes
and skin like gray soap
makes me feel
your easily breakable
already so close to death
my **** could crack your pelvis
and bird delicate ribs

inspired skeleton dancing
your body exclaims to all
a sensual exhibition
of slow suicide
bloodless blossom
brave breatharian
your favorite math
subtraction
by multiplied
delicious starvations

you may need a strong man
deaths final instrument
who will love you
with tender crushes
darkly ******

come naked
spread wide my lovely grotesque
nestle in my arms
coffins embrace
to be bruised
while tremulously kissed
i will turn you to crumbles and powder
to finish sweetly
what you have started so long ago
My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story, not judge me, although i admit to my paraphilias  
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about and then again  you may feel more complete some how if you do....I always loved that dark thing that sleeps with in me
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