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CK Baker Jan 2017
cedar planks line the dim lit hall
morning snow begins to fall
sepia print in a chip wood frame
embers spark from the franklin flame

rustling sounds from bunks below
records play in a tight alcove
bacon grills on the iron sheet
gloves are warmed by baseboard heat

bean bags tossed on colored ****
papka placed as a punching bag
red brick wall with mounted poles
windows filled with glacier bowls

whiskey jack on the southern rail
a frozen patch of wine and ale
pine cones fall in gathering white
brothers bathed in firelight

sleighs are on the table top
canyon road is at a stop
northern winds that bite the face
lines are up the gondola base

cornice clipped on gully goat
the rubber man appears to float
alpine depths are on the rise
peaking sun through parting skies

triple ropes and nordic luge
honored guests from baton rouge
gelande jumps on rainbow drive
nostalgia’s light and warm reply
Bullet Nov 2018
The twist n' turns in life
The different faces
The different places
Twirling through my windows soul

Throw curse words towards
Catching spell binds judgement holding
Carrying about life's inconsistencies  
These Sweethearts are **** I need love in the heart

Spit out the taste let the liquor create
I'm falling for these licorices
Settling down these red twines
Now these red ropes have a chock hold

Tripping me with ropes
Treats me with the truth
Attached too the same tactics
Appoint me to the board
Hanged up but nothing to be framed

Innocences tends to break away
From this medicine
Twizzlers supposed to be red
Truth spills about the licorice

The red rope planted as green
But blooms to blacken
Bittersweet let this be
The glass broken
Eyes seeing love be taken

But I have it growing
Life's lessons be tweaking
CK Baker Jan 2017
Under the old house
cast in conglomerate mix
the cataract window
and cracked sill
broken joists
and cross beams
wringer wash
and saddle set

A draw string light
brings life
to the corner bench
fowler toads
and fingerlings
jitter bugs
and dazzy vance
dirt planks filled
with mason
crown classics

Buggy whip
and whippletree
shelved on the
tackle and mucks
stacked at the back
horseshoe and jack rod
bend the pike pole
a sawhorse placed
for the Martindale push

Gallon jars
and growlers
for the taking
ropes and reins
for transport
and fest
goggle eye
jumps the flyer
setting up nicely
for the
Haldimand town fair
Pat Lynett Jan 19
Salvaging the remnants
Like I have nothing left to give
A world worth noticing
But at times
It feels too hard to live
A soft laugh
Where eyes connect
A bit
If only there was enough
For me to find
In this.
Stephen E Yocum Aug 2013
When I was young,
I chased only fun,
My head all filled,
with stupid.

I wrecked some cars,
Got into fights,
Broke some bones,
never learned my lesson.

There was back then,
A guiding Light,
That tried to shine
From within my Father.

He knew the ropes,
Had run the course,
He'd even been in prison,
But me, well, I was too
"smart" to listen.

We butted heads,
The Old Man and me,
I remained too
stubborn, to heed
His hard won
Sage learned wisdom.

To me back then,
Some of his words,
sounded silly,
'Cause, at my age,
I still reckoned,
That I knew it all,

When he died,
We all cried,
After all he was
my Father.
But gone is gone,
And I wanted fun,
Off I went to find it.

In a bar,
the "Memphis Star"
A guy pulled a knife,
to stab me.

In a full blind rage,
I triggered my hate
And stole that man's
Life forever.

All hell commenced,
My plans and direction,
Everything changed forever.

Now as I sit here thinking
Within this rank prison,
I dearly wish that to,
My old Daddy's wisdom,
I would have devoted,
much more attention.

Tomorrow mornin',
A Hangman is comin',
and at the end of my
my own rope,
I will be surely hangin'.
Not autobiographical, thanks be
to all the Gods. But I have met
this guy. Perhaps we all have.
Some people can not get out
of there own way or learn
from their own mistakes
until it's too late.
Xallan Feb 21
There is no finality
in the climbing of the stairs, he held the railing
with hands shaking, he shivering,
his pathetic hands quivering.

As he ascended, he looked below.

As he stared back, the world flipped
upside down.

Reality threw out a rope to save him,
and gravity tightened it around his neck.
His eyes, once averted, were glassy as theirs.

He joined the hangers.
Namal Apr 2018
a place of love
away from the unforgiving fire of lust
a place of belonging
away from the binding ropes of family
a place of acceptance
away from the cold stare of judgement
a place of freedom
away from the pen of righteousness

a place of comfort, for yourself
as you are, as a whole
without conditions

do you know of such a place?
is it too much to ask?

i know of such a place
i’ve made it for you
inside my heart

the door is open
please walk in
dear sister
Alaina Moore Aug 2018
I'm starting to think it's me.
Maybe I ask to much,
though, admittedly,
maybe's it's because
I don't know what I am asking for?
I am starting to think, it's me.
Maybe I am the problem.
Or maybe that's just the voice in my head,
like a vice,
crushing any minor thing,
like an atom,
until it splits with the force of a thousand suns.
Or maybe it's everything else,
me included.
Maybe I just say it's me,
because I am my biggest bully,
and easiest target.
I thought I was asking for simple things,
but nothing seems simple anymore.
I just want these ropes untied from my hands.
Trapped in my own mind like a hostage,
who doesn't care if they make it out.
There is no greener grass on the other side,
I just wish this grass wasn't wet.
Sticking to me like feathers and tar.
I'm starting to think that I am just coasting along,
waiting for someone to help me fix my boat for me, before it sinks.
Flashing lights from the window
How they blanket on my face!
A calling back to reality
That leaves without a trace

of dreams and of fantasies
and of bright morning stars
as memories and fragments
lead us back to the start

ringing bells, closing doors
and two-hour dates
long walks, without a tire
no, we don't to race

in and out the halls we go
as i try to tell you something
chasing tails - back and forth
to ropes we still keep clinging

Ah, tethered souls! Yes, you and i
Search deep in each other's eyes
as the mourning wakes my soul again
reality becomes my prize
see the fire in my eyes
see my heart without disguise
Anthony Perry Mar 2016
Creatures crawl from under the roots of trees and bugs scatter from the pockets of the lost to the cadence of sprinkling rain

Silence in the woods of missused life brings out the sounds of wind screaming past the tightened ropes and rusted knives

Those who walk through the aokigahara forest hear a symphony of life that persists through the maimed, a festival of tents and people strung up like decorations as if it was meant for a parade

Nature reclaimed the unused death of unwanted bodies and the rain drained flesh from bones, simulated hell and suicide is what's found soon after passing the warning signs in red and white marked zones.
Amanda Mar 2018
I wish I wasn't still in love
With the person I believed you were
I wish I remembered our time
Clearly instead of merged into a blur

I wish I could happen upon
A picture of us without feeling sick
I wish I was able to outrun
My pain, I tried, but it's too quick

I wish I was capable of
Saying your name without tears leaking out
I wish I had some control over
The honest chaotic words I spout

I wish I was better at apologies
I am sorry for causing you pain
I wish I was worse at forgiveness
My trust is too easy to regain

I wish I didn't miss your touch
And the way you hugged me
I wish I was able to talk
About us without saying "we"

I wish I was able to forget
How your face looks when your heart is sore
I wish I could listen to our song
And not crumble to bits on the floor

I wish I would have deleted your texts
So I would not reread them all day
I wish I had a magic wand
To turn our skies blue instead of grey

I wish I didn't fake a smile
In every picture I post
I wish I was brave enough
To exorcise your stubborn ghost

I wish I could escape the ropes
Of silence wrapped around my heart
I wish I wouldn't of bared my
Whole soul when you shared only a part

I wish I didn't see your image
In my mind each time I close my eyes
I wish I could forget the feeling
Of your fingertips dancing on my thighs

I wish I dreamed of something else
Besides your smile every night
I wish I could bury my hurt
Deep below the surface; out of sight

I wish I was an important enough
reason for you to change
I wish I could spin you like a
Rubiks Cube until you rearrange

I wish I had an easier time
Dragging this body out of bed every day
I wish I didn't want to hide
Under covers and waste away

I wish I could make the sun shine
And light up my life once more
I wish I wasn't too delicate
To speak openly like before

I wish I still felt beautiful
The way I did when you stared at me
I wish I would have stopped handing you chances
After number 93

I wish I possessed the strength
To push myself off my knees
I wish I had the perfect plan
To save you from your deserved disease

I wish I lived in the present
Instead I am always stuck in the past
I wish I could slow down time
I'm powerless; it flies by too fast

I wish I could leave you behind
Move on, let go of this sunken ship
I wish I didn't let you drive
Each time we went on a guilt trip

I wish I could predict the future
What our outcome will be
I wish I had the ability
To write the ending to this story

I wish I lived somewhere new
So I wouldn't see your mom around
I wish I could ask how you are
And look anywhere else but the ground

I wish I could put my heart
Back together in one piece
I wish I was strong enough
To force these wants and needs to cease

I wish I hated you for putting
Me through all seven layers of Hell
I wish I didn't miss your kiss
The heaven I once thought I knew so well

I wish I was a heartless corpse
Incapable of love or emotion
I wish I would have my breath taken
Sorrows are waves and I drown in this ocean
The ending doesn't feel right but it was getting long
CK Baker Jun 2017
pale clouds at the summit
water color sky
cattle guard at wood bridge
creek bed running dry

split log fence downtrodden
razor back in wire
sinkhole on the wild plain
grouse fields under fire

pine bug and a lone wolf
clear cut on the trail
stump lake on the open range
kettle valley rail

raven on the hatheume
slash and burn and scar
blasted church in a tired sun
wild rose under char

thistle in the hollow
quails nest sitting high
carriage house at lone rock
curtains of july

smoke jaw in the canyon
percolator dream
silver sage in chapel
schneider's requiem

stockmen on the wrangle
big horn antler chase
table top at sunset
deacon creek in grace

quarry in a furry
lines of tinted red
spurs and blades and columns
patchwork of the dead

past the bow hill junction
cattle ropes are black
indian amphitheater
saddle on the rack

sun is at a high bake
sedimentary stone
three days on the morphine
skeleton and bone

cold water road is lonely
corrals are cut and paste
gone but not forgotten
the dust filled aftertaste
Anecandu Sep 2016
Sunrise on your face like a warm caressing hand
Your surrounded by friends, a tired but merry band.
No hooks or ropes needed just your backpack and your aching feet
Your taking longer drinks now to stave off the heat.

Its so contrasting, your hot when its frigid cold
This moment you'll remember, this memory is Gold
Its about achieving what you thought impossible at first
Something good for the soul, not just the hunger, but a thirst.

You fill your bottle from natures *****
eating your fill from among earths blossoms
Berries, nuts, roasting on ember lit nights.
the eyes consume the bounty of sights.

But the sunrise on the crimson dawn
while stretching your tired frame at being reborn,
So near so high you can touch the vanilla sky
You promise yourself to be back, but alas you lie......
Em Sep 2018
I remember sitting in the drug awareness assemblies

and thinking about how when the year came where supposedly

I was going to inevitably start falling into the same hole many had fallen into before me

I would choose the right path,

that's not going to be me

I said I would be different . . .

turns out I was wrong.

Once you get older, life happens to you

and you start to finally understand why people drink their lives away


have that cigarette permantely etched between their fingertips


tie ropes around their necks and jump off buildings to take their own lives.

-While running away from your life you often find you end up running towards what ends it.

Chloë Fuller Jan 2018
I get flashes of our first meeting

like airplanes you mistake for twinkling stars

covered in paint our glazed pupils locked

wooden steps that swayed like the curve of my back

your mouth halfway inside me at 6 am on a spring morning

or was it winter?

stumbling back into my arms in a place we call 'sanctuary'

And that's always it.

Why can I only look you dead in the eyes when they're crossing?

We could stopped the universe, because we do every time we kissed.  

Like we can't stop sipping

Hangovers like ropes around my head

What's going to happen when we wake up?

When the dust clears?

Why are we still torturing each other through rye flavored teeth?

Relief is paradox and a vicious cycle
inspired by "Sober" by Lorde, and "Relief Next to Me" by Tegan and Sara. I will be using this piece in an upcoming performance.
Through the dirt and past the grime
a window pane shows gentler times
Still, eyes can hope but tongue does bind
with ropes of doubt I spoke from mine
restraining mind from truth divine

And yet, in heart I know this to be
a brilliant portrait incomplete
For light shall cut through dark to shine
and put to rest my pondering
of death and hate and suffering

For there’s pain in seeing through this glass
The atrocities that come to pass
The weeds that choke the green from grass
The hatred killing future seeds
of the hope we need to let love last
For when there’s hope it stills the need
Through knowing that true love did bleed

And if one day your will be mine
I too shall witness truth divine
And wash the sludge from window’s glass
to see that love shall reign at last

Bison Apr 2016
Now we've been tossed and thrown and beaten in this storm we call life
But it's alright
It's alright
We're gonna be alright
This ship is ancient and she creaks and she moans but she's born of light
Yeah she's gonna carry us
Right up to the edge
Where we'll find ourselves as we've never been before just hold on tight
The waves are crashing but there's hope beneath this ribs and I savor the salt in my eyes
Cuz this storm rages on and on with razors for wind and violent laughter in the skies
But we're making it
Making it
We're gonna make it through
And that new day is gonna be so beautiful that I can't stand to see it now
And when it comes I'm gonna dive right off the bow
Into the great big ocean full of love and wonder
If only we suffer through the thunder and survive those tidal waves that threaten to bury us in those dark sands
But I know we're gonna be okay because I feel the strength of our scarred hands
Holding tight to these ropes that strain beneath our sails
Darling, things are gonna be okay
I've said it before and I swear I'll say it again
In the darkest of times trust in love because love never fails.
Written as more of a spoken word piece/non-traditional poem.
Joshua Brown May 2017
A Breath of wind is wind itself,

should true and steady braided shelfs,

foraged fords from handsome lords,

prayed hopes & proper ropes,

could life and science meet the world beyond Biology?

"A home," it cried, "a home for me with trees and lakes and reverie."

I tried and cried for something else, elsewhere

I found a leaning shelf.

Should what was true and even hold nothing told or helpless here,

I cannot hide a place inside,

though I cannot say I really tried.
Lily Mar 19
The sadness always overtakes me
When the lights are low
Right before the show,
When the darkness hides my quivering lips,
And I just want you back.
I want you to pull me backstage again,
Lead me through the smell of paint splatters and 2 x 4s to
Show me the set you created with your own two hands,
Your blue eyes sparkling as you beam at me,
As if the only thing you cared about was if I liked it or not.  
And then when I said I did, picking me up and
Twirling me in a circle until
Your lips touched mine ever so gently,
And I never wanted you to put me down.
I want the you back that sat backstage with me,
Leaning against the ropes and pulleys,
Telling me all of your dreams and aspirations.  
You explain to me how the stage is your home,
And how even though you have never performed,
You would never trade that for all of the mystery
And joy that comes with working backstage.  
And I hold your hand, your hand
Calloused from pulling ropes for years,
And I make you promise that wherever you go in life,
You will never forget me.  
You say, “Of course not.  The stage isn’t my only home.
You are home.”
Fifty ropes tied, I balance, but I
Am not a balanced person anymore.
I am not a happy person anymore. I
Left the chemicals my body needed
Underneath ***** nails and screeching skin. Let me out.
Ropes, you know you'll win. I fell six times, the seventh
Endured it's wind willingly.

I am not a lucky person. I broke seven times, I have a
knack at being me, and I don't want that.
So I'll let you use me, maybe you'll
yield the cars and wield a blade
that'll slash the tires, not my heart.
Not his skin. I'm tired of liars and killers
inside me, they must abide me, and
I must obey them. I can't convey them,
or they'll condemn me.
Help me,
before i display them-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Makayla Jane Dec 2018
I like the feeling of tight sports bras
To hide what little I have
And to make me feel secure

I like the feeling of tight sleeping bags wrapped around me
To hold me
And to make me feel like someone else holds me as I rest

I like the feeling of tight cozy jackets and sweaters
To soothe my soul
And to make me feel snuggly

I like the feeling of wires, ropes, and belts wrapped tightly around my throat
To cut off my circulation
And to watch my face turn a nice dark red-purple
Honest feelings.
Feel free to share revision ideas :)
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