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"rosettes" poems
Like a gazelle she ballets with gracefulness Like a ballerina Dancing to Dance of the Little Swans With beauty and grace Oh let me see thy fair face, Sweet sister of mine Let me watch you ballet gracefully Through woods, fields, and meadows She sleeps soundly in a bed of ferns Oh sweet sister of mine With the most prettiest satin wings you ever saw And a pretty pink flowing gown And soft pale pink ballet slippers With the most pristine pink ribbons Tied around her delicate ankles She ballets, Oh sister of mine With a crown of baby rosebuds on her Head And rosettes on her gown She dances with delight, Oh, fair sister of mine She dances even more beautifully And gracefully Than the yellow sunflowers Of gold that waltz in fields and meadows Dance for me, Oh fair sister of mine Dance to me on hills of sublime green Dance, Oh, beautiful sister of mine Ballet for me gracefully like the Lotus ballets upon the sapphire lake Ballet Oh, sweetest sister of mine Waltz for me in a field of dancing flowers Waltz for me, Oh, dear sister of mine I love you, oh, graceful sister of mine ~Marian~
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May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
The Dainty Ballerina
I caught a tremendous fish and held him beside the boat half out of water, with my hook fast in a corner of his mouth. He didn't fight. He hadn't fought at all. He hung a grunting weight, battered and venerable and homely. Here and there his brown skin hung in strips like ancient wallpaper, and its pattern of darker brown was like wallpaper: shapes like full-blown roses stained and lost through age. He was speckled with barnacles, fine rosettes of lime, and infested with tiny white sea-lice, and underneath two or three rags of green **** hung down. While his gills were breathing in the terrible oxygen --the frightening gills, fresh and crisp with blood, that can cut so badly-- I thought of the coarse white flesh packed in like feathers, the big bones and the little bones, the dramatic reds and blacks of his shiny entrails, and the pink swim-bladder like a big peony. I looked into his eyes which were far larger than mine but shallower, and yellowed, the irises backed and packed with tarnished tinfoil seen through the lenses of old scratched isinglass. They shifted a little, but not to return my stare. --It was more like the tipping of an object toward the light. I admired his sullen face, the mechanism of his jaw, and then I saw that from his lower lip --if you could call it a lip grim, wet, and weaponlike, hung five old pieces of fish-line, or four and a wire leader with the swivel still attached, with all their five big hooks grown firmly in his mouth. A green line, frayed at the end where he broke it, two heavier lines, and a fine black thread still crimped from the strain and snap when it broke and he got away. Like medals with their ribbons frayed and wavering, a five-haired beard of wisdom trailing from his aching jaw. I stared and stared and victory filled up the little rented boat, from the pool of bilge where oil had spread a rainbow around the rusted engine to the bailer rusted orange, the sun-cracked thwarts, the oarlocks on their strings, the gunnels--until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
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4.2k
The Fish
I caught a tremendous fish and held him beside the boat half out of water, with my hook fast in a corner of his mouth. He didn't fight. He hadn't fought at all. He hung a grunting weight, battered and venerable and homely. Here and there his brown skin hung in strips like ancient wallpaper, and its pattern of darker brown was like wallpaper: shapes like full-blown roses stained and lost through age. He was speckled with barnacles, fine rosettes of lime, and infested with tiny white sea-lice, and underneath two or three rags of green **** hung down. While his gills were breathing in the terrible oxygen --the frightening gills, fresh and crisp with blood, that can cut so badly-- I thought of the coarse white flesh packed in like feathers, the big bones and the little bones, the dramatic reds and blacks of his shiny entrails, and the pink swim-bladder like a big peony. I looked into his eyes which were far larger than mine but shallower, and yellowed, the irises backed and packed with tarnished tinfoil seen through the lenses of old scratched isinglass. They shifted a little, but not to return my stare. --It was more like the tipping of an object toward the light. I admired his sullen face, the mechanism of his jaw, and then I saw that from his lower lip --if you could call it a lip grim, wet, and weaponlike, hung five old pieces of fish-line, or four and a wire leader with the swivel still attached, with all their five big hooks grown firmly in his mouth. A green line, frayed at the end where he broke it, two heavier lines, and a fine black thread still crimped from the strain and snap when it broke and he got away. Like medals with their ribbons frayed and wavering, a five-haired beard of wisdom trailing from his aching jaw. I stared and stared and victory filled up the little rented boat, from the pool of bilge where oil had spread a rainbow around the rusted engine to the bailer rusted orange, the sun-cracked thwarts, the oarlocks on their strings, the gunnels--until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
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76
I’m the smallest of the four big cats, Not many of us left, They destroy our land and hunt us down, All to build their useless towns, I can travel at 36 miles per hour, I’ll consume all that I hunt and catch with my power, I don’t have spots like my Cheetah friend, But rosettes of blackness and live 21 years from start to end.
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Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:21 AM UTC
The Leopard
When the writing is going well, I am a prince in a desert palace, fountains flowing in the garden. I lean an elbow on a velvet pillow and drink from a silver goblet, poems like a banquet spread before me on rugs with rosettes the damask of blood. But exiled from the palace, I wander -- crawling on burning sand, thirsting on barren dunes, believing a heartless mirage no less true than palms and pools of the cool oasis.
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3.2k
What Do You Do About Dry Periods In Your Writing?
The yucca plant from my mother’s garden sits unattended and on the verge of death next to her eldest rose bush, now wildly overgrown and lightly blushing in the cosset of the midmourning sun.  Its withered rosettes droop down to its bed of maroon-stained stones in crisp, harum-scarum patterns as if the plant is spending its life like currency trying to touch its toes.  I oftentimes find myself wondering if the reason behind this slow rotting of mother dearest’s garden is hidden within her five-year absence.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say her nursery missed the d                                               i                                                  g                                                      g                                                         i                                                             n                                                                 g of her weathered hands. She was the biosphere of my world; I suppose that it only makes sense for the earth to match my thirst.  We sit side by side, that yucca plant and I, as we struggle to nod our heads towards daylight while we rise on the side of the house that is more or less cloaked in shadow; the side that she would sunbathe on during scorching late afternoons.  Perhaps without her body giving shelter, all her garden is doomed to atrophy like muscle in the sunlight. I find irony in the way that my mother’s favored plant was the “ghost in the graveyard;” a perverted parallel to the game that she never wanted us to play.  I think it to be sort of sardonic that her pride swallowed the possibility of a cure being found within that ****** plant’s roots. She, a third generation American girl, had blood as muddled as the mud that buried that yucca’s heart. The boundary line between Mother and nature coalesces into one: Gaea six feet under melting into soil I hope she becomes seawater.
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Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 1:41 AM UTC
Floristics
The yucca plant from my mother’s garden sits unattended and on the verge of death next to her eldest rose bush, now wildly overgrown and lightly blushing in the cosset of the midmourning sun.  Its withered rosettes droop down to its bed of maroon-stained stones in crisp, harum-scarum patterns as if the plant is spending its life like currency trying to touch its toes.  I oftentimes find myself wondering if the reason behind this slow rotting of mother dearest’s garden is hidden within her five-year absence.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say her nursery missed the d                                               i                                                  g                                                      g                                                         i                                                             n                                                                 g of her weathered hands. She was the biosphere of my world; I suppose that it only makes sense for the earth to match my thirst.  We sit side by side, that yucca plant and I, as we struggle to nod our heads towards daylight while we rise on the side of the house that is more or less cloaked in shadow; the side that she would sunbathe on during scorching late afternoons.  Perhaps without her body giving shelter, all her garden is doomed to atrophy like muscle in the sunlight. I find irony in the way that my mother’s favored plant was the “ghost in the graveyard;” a perverted parallel to the game that she never wanted us to play.  I think it to be sort of sardonic that her pride swallowed the possibility of a cure being found within that ****** plant’s roots. She, a third generation American girl, had blood as muddled as the mud that buried that yucca’s heart. The boundary line between Mother and nature coalesces into one: Gaea six feet under melting into soil I hope she becomes seawater.
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41
*A soulless body she was Pale skin, chapped lips, dreary eyes Her ribcage filled with soil Flowers sprouting from her mouth Her veins like vines, Wrapped around her legs Her skin, ripped Corrupting was her flesh Worms coming out— Out of her senseless ears As unfathomable as nadir— She buried herself, The insignia and rosettes, The books she read, The verses she chanted, Her dreams, her fears— A forgotten temple she was Hidden in the middle Of a busy city filled with people She never knew And at night, she would write About nothingness, Her cats, the mustiness of her youth Tasting the divinity from the salt Flowing from her eyes She wanted god, she wanted sin Pondering on the elusive thought Of life and of death— She just craved for sleep Lay her body on a casket, Be one with dirt— So she drank the ink, Poisoned her senses And with her pen, a dagger She stabbed her core Rejoicing as she bled magenta— She decided to die, She decided to die Before the monsters inside Would have feasted on her meat*
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Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
Tangs of Disdain
I'm building a cathedral out of Needles, hope and wire; Cast-off iron, nickel, tin And coins of low denomination. My rosettes dress the sunlight up in Dripping gems, like royalty; With scarlet slows the sounding bells while Amber makes the dust motes lazy. Seven halls, eleven arches And eighteen darkened booths Hold a single breath - an unfinished Thought with a heart of dripping water And legs made of undressed marble. The steeples dip their faces in the rainclouds As I crouch among the shingles with A wooden mallet and a mouthful of nails.
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Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC
Sunray architect
The lusters of Spring is upon us Inspiring a rainbow of lovely colours As it blossoms into an abundance Of distinctive flowers Slowly maturing, in their seductive scents Into natures natural beauty Uncovering in its amazing Unique shapes and sizes, quite pretty On splashes, of smooth blankets of greenery Neath its striking silhouette As the ember sun embraces, releasing fluorescence And embellishing lilies, orchids and rosettes
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Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 3:32 AM UTC
Inspiring A Rainbow Of Lovely Colours
I swallowed the sound of your name like it was a star-- five points, the type they teach you to draw in kindergarten. It hurt on its way down, stalagmites of constellation catching on my uvula, hanging on with astronomical strength. But this is no cliffhanger. Do you know what happens next? I stopped breathing. You've never deserved your name, you know. "Light giving," it means. Oh, and how I gave into the sublime fallacy of it. Because all you ever did was steal the moons from my irises. You treated me like I was the dirt beneath your fingernails (you forsake the dust on your windowsill-- but don't you know all dust comes from the wondrous galaxy that dwells before us?) I reached out to you only to get c u t o f f at the hands Still, I couldn't let you go, didn't know how to. Even when my flame was reduced to these weeping cinders, even when the idealization I held between my palms found itself exiled to this mausoleum of severed trust, hatred blossoming in rosettes against crumbling tombstones. The epitaph reads, "At a loss for words." Tell me this: what sort of "light giver" doesn't believe in in the possibility of magic-- in the pinnacle of light itself? You always thought me a foolish girl for dreaming-- naive girl, silly girl, wrists blooming in paper cuts, always one fairytale away from insanity. Until one day, I stopped believing altogether. And all it took was a single glance from those eyes-- glacial sapphires, your grandest seduction. Hell itself would have hardened itself to tundra at the sight of them. You always had a way of contaminating the things I loved with a frostbite so lethal, I would have gladly dismembered every hypothermic part of myself (every fragment of soul you ever touched). Like a shooting star, I fell for you-- hopelessly. Catastrophically. And then the heavens went dark.
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Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 12:27 PM UTC
Apollo's a Phoney
I swallowed the sound of your name like it was a star-- five points, the type they teach you to draw in kindergarten. It hurt on its way down, stalagmites of constellation catching on my uvula, hanging on with astronomical strength. But this is no cliffhanger. Do you know what happens next? I stopped breathing. You've never deserved your name, you know. "Light giving," it means. Oh, and how I gave into the sublime fallacy of it. Because all you ever did was steal the moons from my irises. You treated me like I was the dirt beneath your fingernails (you forsake the dust on your windowsill-- but don't you know all dust comes from the wondrous galaxy that dwells before us?) I reached out to you only to get c u t o f f at the hands Still, I couldn't let you go, didn't know how to. Even when my flame was reduced to these weeping cinders, even when the idealization I held between my palms found itself exiled to this mausoleum of severed trust, hatred blossoming in rosettes against crumbling tombstones. The epitaph reads, "At a loss for words." Tell me this: what sort of "light giver" doesn't believe in in the possibility of magic-- in the pinnacle of light itself? You always thought me a foolish girl for dreaming-- naive girl, silly girl, wrists blooming in paper cuts, always one fairytale away from insanity. Until one day, I stopped believing altogether. And all it took was a single glance from those eyes-- glacial sapphires, your grandest seduction. Hell itself would have hardened itself to tundra at the sight of them. You always had a way of contaminating the things I loved with a frostbite so lethal, I would have gladly dismembered every hypothermic part of myself (every fragment of soul you ever touched). Like a shooting star, I fell for you-- hopelessly. Catastrophically. And then the heavens went dark.
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103
Fountainhead by Michael R. Burch I did not delight in love so much as in a kiss like linnets’ wings, the flutterings of a pulse so soft the heart remembers, as it sings: to bathe there was its transport, brushed by marble lips, or porcelain,— one liquid kiss, one cool outburst from pale rosettes. What did it mean ... to float awhirl on minute tides within the compass of your eyes, to feel your alabaster bust grow cold within? Ecstatic sighs seem hisses now; your eyes, serene, reflect the sun’s pale tourmaline. Published by Romantics Quarterly, Poetica Victorian, PW Review, Nutty Stories (South Africa), Inspirational Stories, Poetry Life & Times Keywords/Tags: Fountain, love, heart, pulse, bathe, kiss, sun, marble, bust, tides, sighs, eyes, sun, tourmaline
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Mar 16, 2020
Mar 16, 2020 at 6:03 AM UTC
Fountainhead
Turning circles and dancing on blue depression glass rosettes under my toes will never wilt they'll never fall, never fade never bloom I'm turning circles and turning back around to the last place I saw you the wind in my hair will be the same every sight and sound the way I left it But I'll turn circles and hear all the chinks and tings of my miss-stepping feet caught on the echo of your absence and falling gracelessly over the cut-glass of cold blue rosettes
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Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC
Blue Glass
I caught a tremendous fish and held him beside the boat half out of water, with my hook fast in a corner of his mouth. He didn’t fight. He hadn’t fought at all. He hung a grunting weight, battered and venerable and homely. Here and there his brown skin hung in strips like ancient wallpaper, and its pattern of darker brown was like wallpaper: shapes like full-blown roses stained and lost through age. He was speckled with barnacles, fine rosettes of lime, and infested with tiny white sea-lice, and underneath two or three rags of green **** hung down. While his gills were breathing in the terrible oxygen —the frightening gills, fresh and crisp with blood, that can cut so badly— I thought of the coarse white flesh packed in like feathers, the big bones and the little bones, the dramatic reds and blacks of his shiny entrails, and the pink swim-bladder like a big peony. I looked into his eyes which were far larger than mine but shallower, and yellowed, the irises backed and packed with tarnished tinfoil seen through the lenses of old scratched isinglass. They shifted a little, but not to return my stare. —It was more like the tipping of an object toward the light. I admired his sullen face, the mechanism of his jaw, and then I saw that from his lower lip —if you could call it a lip— grim, wet, and weaponlike, hung five old pieces of fish-line, or four and a wire leader with the swivel still attached, with all their five big hooks grown firmly in his mouth. A green line, frayed at the end where he broke it, two heavier lines, and a fine black thread still crimped from the strain and snap when it broke and he got away. Like medals with their ribbons frayed and wavering, a five-haired beard of wisdom trailing from his aching jaw. I stared and stared and victory filled up the little rented boat, from the pool of bilge where oil had spread a rainbow around the rusted engine to the bailer rusted orange, the sun-cracked thwarts, the oarlocks on their strings, the gunnels—until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
0
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
Ode to Tyler McCarthy (follow him on instagram ples)
I caught a tremendous fish and held him beside the boat half out of water, with my hook fast in a corner of his mouth. He didn’t fight. He hadn’t fought at all. He hung a grunting weight, battered and venerable and homely. Here and there his brown skin hung in strips like ancient wallpaper, and its pattern of darker brown was like wallpaper: shapes like full-blown roses stained and lost through age. He was speckled with barnacles, fine rosettes of lime, and infested with tiny white sea-lice, and underneath two or three rags of green **** hung down. While his gills were breathing in the terrible oxygen —the frightening gills, fresh and crisp with blood, that can cut so badly— I thought of the coarse white flesh packed in like feathers, the big bones and the little bones, the dramatic reds and blacks of his shiny entrails, and the pink swim-bladder like a big peony. I looked into his eyes which were far larger than mine but shallower, and yellowed, the irises backed and packed with tarnished tinfoil seen through the lenses of old scratched isinglass. They shifted a little, but not to return my stare. —It was more like the tipping of an object toward the light. I admired his sullen face, the mechanism of his jaw, and then I saw that from his lower lip —if you could call it a lip— grim, wet, and weaponlike, hung five old pieces of fish-line, or four and a wire leader with the swivel still attached, with all their five big hooks grown firmly in his mouth. A green line, frayed at the end where he broke it, two heavier lines, and a fine black thread still crimped from the strain and snap when it broke and he got away. Like medals with their ribbons frayed and wavering, a five-haired beard of wisdom trailing from his aching jaw. I stared and stared and victory filled up the little rented boat, from the pool of bilge where oil had spread a rainbow around the rusted engine to the bailer rusted orange, the sun-cracked thwarts, the oarlocks on their strings, the gunnels—until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
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76
How the sunlight throws textured shadows on forested mountainsides. Frost that clings onto windows, curling into icy, sharp rosettes. The way clouds glow electric white in a soft summer sky. How music can unfurl or burst or soar or stagger or peal or boom from people's mouths in a vast spectrum. Sparks that flutter sky-high off a fire. The way the ocean ripples or roars, blending its ever-contradicting nature into harmonious beauty. *There is so much breathtaking beauty in this world that I just can't help but live in wonder*.
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Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
In Wonder
Floating like Dandelion florets caught upon the breeze Thoughts scatter to the four corners of the world Lucid dreams dragging ecstatically at the seam of self Unpicked nightmares rearing up and roaring A lions roar, a cats purr fangs floating in a pool of perfume Cannot obscure the golden tower of blow ***** Seed dispersal through rosettes Disturbed paw printed earth receives seeds.
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Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 9:38 PM UTC
Dent de lion
"All is fair," In-anna, Inanna, Queen of Heaven and Earth A rose in her wisdom, A rose in her hand, Inanna Queen of Heaven and Earth Roses or rosettes, Thorn scars or eternal stars, Stabbing beauties or Bright white hot But all is fair in wisdom, All is fair in blood And Inanna, Inanna Queen, She gives me roses upon roses, Thorns amongst thorns, Inanna, Inanna, my Queen Inanna loft me high, And cast me low, Bruised and ****** love, Bruised and ****** for love "All is fair" In-anna, Her echoing voice, just shadows, Sweet shadows, wrathful shadows, All is fair, Inanna, my Queen, Queen of my heaven and my earth, Queen who, in her wisdom, In her wisdom holds flowering thorns.
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Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 10:32 AM UTC
Love and War
Across silence Rude stares In equal measure Provoking a quandary. Voiceless words And your invisible Ink rests surely, printed To my ear; Likewise, in argue And question Our roughage will continue To grow far over Neighbourly walls and fences To watch foxes As they play In the low sun: Are you my fox? Playing gestfully Through the shaking weeds Of deception in your heart? I can write Your ink, spelling your spell, Juicing flower heads Of their perfection. No escape - all stems riveted To the salty earths and float As they're cut, like balloons, Or spiralling rosettes, bleached Then crisped by the sun As your voiceless words stare And watch my heart Separate and drift away.
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Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
your garden
He raises his voice when you drop a plate, water from the sink dripping-soap bubbles foam on your wrinkled skin. Shrapnel on the floor, you wait. His skin is darkened from long days in the sun, he labors dawn to dusk, forming callouses, rough on his tarnished skin. His grip is strong, you shrink away. Peel away the fingers which puncture and bruise the delicate skin-rosettes forming in deep purples and blues. You can only wear sweaters, it is summer. The children in the next room begin to rustle, they hear and whimper in fright-you try to quiet the commotion. He busts your lip, you remain silent. In the dark, in the quiet after the storm, you long to burst out the back door into the mosquito filled night. Your fears enter, he would find you. He sets steel traps in the woods to grasp the innocent feet of animals and steal their skin to display on the walls. He owns many guns, they lie loaded. In the shadowy corner the barrel leans, gleams in the yellow light of the overhead bulb-you stare intently at it, finger twitching. "Mommy!" you hear, and break gaze.
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Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 3:30 AM UTC
A Will
dissolute neo transgressive a fantasy lauded libertine self mythologizer writing ugly comments on corrosive voids like black outs broken verses sounded out in mangled staccato needing rearranged horizons like olives without pimentos and skies cobbled from thatched metal bones in moonless poems with no dream life no naked glimpses no clawing not even a drop of blood to whiff and already cauterized lust-less anemic-scapes of thorn-less rosettes emptied of black tongued gimps and tattooed ****** no Lilliputians swimming in marsh swamps and no snarling brays remember there are mouths to fill with pounding gristle and ***** to bleed like pull apart flake strudel that squeal rapturously shedding seas of gagging exorcisms   so widen your thighs look into my eyes
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Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 12:31 PM UTC
Look Into My Eyes
The tide unturns things got wild words flung unmild There can be little need of shoving harsh away when rosettes of care are placed on your path Time will mere churn on now so slow - slow - slow like thick butter needing urgent spreading yet with missing slice only melting can be now Turn away turn away Turn away it is as you wish Turn a way
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Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
Turn away
Like men, from dust and clay she is born. By men, her face and delicate form is made, Through heat and glaze and Water she’ll soon scorn. A fine novelty, A porcelain maid. On her crown are luscious locks of mohair, Adorned with rosettes, by masters no doubt! And glass eyes tell the secrets she can’t share For her lips are in an eternal pout. Velvet and lace conceals her nakedness Away from a stranger’s unwelcome gaze. And this Belle who looks alive, is lifeless. A sleeping beauty born by the fire’s blaze. Yet a doll is not unlike a real man. Both are puppets, Each to a different hand
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Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 3:49 PM UTC
How A Girl Is Made
a hound stretches on a stoop frozen, lacking a cadenced pant sun splaying its last beams against skin, warm tin and damp rigor mortis the letch inside stammers, retches his yellowed nails scratch scabs on flaking elbows dried snakeskin platelet scales too much residue of asbestos and mildew, of burnt gilded pages for heat 'cause they were of little use to illiterate plainclothe'd sleuths and the crows outside caw with anemic splendor as their ***** broods grovel the inebriate inside draws open dingy curtains for the sun was finally subdued he opens the window to a finicky drizzle and was interrupted by horse & buggy and the tangling of her rosettes transfixing voracious, beady eyes as objects of interest phased out of view we heard all this through the grey horseshoes trudging through forgotten alleyways all too loud and dramatic we watched from fog outside the ****** tavern where they drank blood straight from the stomachs of lampreys downing life, agnostics proudly clapped, with death and decay on a parsley'd dinner plate lingering in the hospital waiting room for an embellished platter of viscera to fill vacancies, with burnt rot with a sterile, surgical tang and jagged accoutrements all are gorging lovingly, already anticipating dessert each solitary phantasm of a person, slouching in booths, on stools smirks knowingly at the song that's now playing on the a.m. radio while positioning their utensils, scooping, filling cavernous maws and they all smiled as their eyes gasped as those outside chipped their teeth on rusted forks, and sighed the dead ounce of liveliness failed to take hold of its slouching bags of bones and the coyote howled at the sound of the siren curfew so listen carefully to the inflection of static hissing the joyful crackle of disembodied voices
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Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
disembodied voices
a hound stretches on a stoop frozen, lacking a cadenced pant sun splaying its last beams against skin, warm tin and damp rigor mortis the letch inside stammers, retches his yellowed nails scratch scabs on flaking elbows dried snakeskin platelet scales too much residue of asbestos and mildew, of burnt gilded pages for heat 'cause they were of little use to illiterate plainclothe'd sleuths and the crows outside caw with anemic splendor as their ***** broods grovel the inebriate inside draws open dingy curtains for the sun was finally subdued he opens the window to a finicky drizzle and was interrupted by horse & buggy and the tangling of her rosettes transfixing voracious, beady eyes as objects of interest phased out of view we heard all this through the grey horseshoes trudging through forgotten alleyways all too loud and dramatic we watched from fog outside the ****** tavern where they drank blood straight from the stomachs of lampreys downing life, agnostics proudly clapped, with death and decay on a parsley'd dinner plate lingering in the hospital waiting room for an embellished platter of viscera to fill vacancies, with burnt rot with a sterile, surgical tang and jagged accoutrements all are gorging lovingly, already anticipating dessert each solitary phantasm of a person, slouching in booths, on stools smirks knowingly at the song that's now playing on the a.m. radio while positioning their utensils, scooping, filling cavernous maws and they all smiled as their eyes gasped as those outside chipped their teeth on rusted forks, and sighed the dead ounce of liveliness failed to take hold of its slouching bags of bones and the coyote howled at the sound of the siren curfew so listen carefully to the inflection of static hissing the joyful crackle of disembodied voices
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54
What’s in an apology? To me, it is simply a torrential downpour of regrets and just-kissed, biting insults wrapped in 1982’s dowry garments, lacy and dainty and full of holes. To me, it contains a moth-eaten veil smelling like lily of the valley, a rotten memory of a sweet time – piped rosettes of frosting atop a filthy sponge. By any other name: Surrender, Atonement, Vindication – it is to none; it is to none but to soften the blow dealt by the concrete slab of fault. It is not any sweeter, not even the gritty feel of a Sweet N’ Low between your teeth. It is novacaine to the muscles in your cheeks that have been scowling for so long. So, here it is. I hope that feels so much better.
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Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 9:08 PM UTC
It'll Just Be A Little Pinch.
The prosperous will grow from your left palm ravaging the earth skin of your hand and becoming a volcano that bursts into a beautiful biennial Your nails will know themselves as leaves and the misery will no longer undo you You will feel the profoundness of your years and calmly you will water yourself and with the fecundity of your acquired patience you will give rosettes and I in that second year will be back to see you in bloom
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Jul 4, 2019
Jul 4, 2019 at 4:09 AM UTC
I appreciate Biennials