Onoma Oct 2013
Mangled skirmish, of bespeckled olive-green
serpents.
Their sinuous anarchy runs cold upon her
skull.
Caravaggio, you immortalized the bitch,
immured her, hermetically sealed her within
that shield.
Her reflection was at once the face she
never saw...stoned, she...then beheaded.
I notice you've even painted the shield the
color of her serpentine locks.
Serpents registering her ontological shock--
retentive, entwining, dangling in an odd
curl here and there.
Blood spurting from her almost indiscernible
neck, as if to draw a passable neck of blood,
almost like rays of blood, Christ's pierced side.
Her eyes seem so determined to chisel their
way out of stone, reconnect her head to her
body.
Her face is stunning, an excruciating ferocity
bulking stiff, slightly opened mouth about to...
explode out of her eyes.
Eyes hissing downward, sideways--there in the
pitch black glint of them...a primordial drama
to be continued.
Jen 5d
Don’t go chase
It.

Don’t force
It.

Wait for
It.

Water runs
In a river beautifully,
From a faucet,
Empty.

It streams down,
Like crystal life.

Leading to a desert,
Arid, dry.

There is no one
There,
Still.

Just the memory,
Of something
Not meant,
To be real.

Are you afraid
To be seen?
With me…
Taking a hand,
Leading somewhere
New.

If you take this one,
Please be true.
Suspension
is what holds tight
the more than 250,000 miles of dry
-laid stone wall
that runs timelessly
throughout New England—
they are the life-
preserving veins,
The oxygen we breathe,
each stone is set
one over two,
two over one.
the compassion of one compels
The physics of two.
Aslam M 7d
Out of the many races we run
One of them is companionship
where both are compatible
Running together
Sometimes one in front
Sometimes the other
Maintaining a small distance.
Over the years one may became tired
while the other may not.  
The Distance increases
when a time comes
Either one  becomes Slow
And the other one
Runs away too  Far...
Braxan Jan 2017
(Before you continue reading I ask that you read all of it and thats all I ask)


Lost in between what seems to be a reoccurance when Im starring off in my day dreams;
Ultimately I'm seen as a building,
What I'm holding within the interior runs on crimsonite;
Been doubted, categorized as the villain.
Iron alloy coils a frame holding me in place.
If knowledge was height would you be able to ride the hectic reality ride we call by the chimes and whistles of the whispering wind hollering maliciously over the corner of our dreams and keeps that tend care a second before destruction.
                          **l1lB
(*Before you continue reading I ask that you read **all of it** and thats all I ask*)
Jenny 5d
the electricity runs through our veins
and past the street signs we rumble by
in the car you stole, we go fifty above the speed limit,
the roof of the car is the noir sky above
and the midnight rain pelts our upturned faces
the dancing drops of water drip onto our smiling lips
the sound of the sky collapsing
echoes the flashes that streak the sky,
the flickering light casts paved roads with a brief brightness
(as if god were wearing light up sketchers)
the lacy brallette that wears me
gives me the bravery to stand up in the speeding car
the velvet pants that ripple with the wind
drink up the nighttime rain
and the rare headlights race past us,
heading into homes and hearts
the mellow playlist that connects the aux cord to our ears blasts
so loud, we can no longer hear our insecurity
the mascara that once clung to my eyelashes
now streams down my face.
on a two way street,
we drive down the middle
unafraid in the face of direct dangers
so unaware of the towering empty skyscrapers
and instead highly exhilarated
from the street signs we drive by
too fast to read the blocky lettering
the road signs glint, smiling as we wave and reach towards them
the cigarettes you smoked are thrown through the open window,
still smothering slightly.
i can still taste the smoke on your lips
and your hand tucks my hair behind my ear
and as the wind objects and inhales
unreal in the hazy a.m. car trip
the tunnel rushes towards us,
and we both hold our breaths,
as if breathing would contaminate us.
the lights that glint, cast a yellow-white glow
and for once, i see you for who you are
a boy too buzzed to feel
a kid who only felt "sort of"
a person who couldn't heal
and a lover who could never give love
about a boy who was my living teenage dream // nothing scarier than finding a broken loveless boy who makes you the same
Sara Fielder Jul 3
Yes
The t.v. keeps us occupied
while beauty runs out.
In lulls, I trust my surgically
manicured eyebrows to no one but you.
It would be a tragedy
not to pollinate the match,
but there are one too many
spaces under construction of words.
On the bright side we store up karma
before the look on your face reminds me
that the garden is loyal.
We shall move our hydrangeas
into more shade.
Don't you realize I'd say
yes to anything you want?


Sara Fielder © July 2018
you're just too damn fine
like burgundy wine
from fruit that's been plucked
from the choicest of vine

and your blood runs so young
like the taste on your tongue
and the smell on your lips
is the air from your lungs

you're just too damn good
for this neighborhood
I'd pack up and go
Any place that you would

So let's run away
I'll sing and you play
We'll hit it so big
We'll party all day
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