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"sahn" poems
upon the elephant rode a boy prince, his royal command, he was there to evince. dark with grace and dripping with youth. bringing his men, his crown and his couth. town after town he strode fierce through the gates. and any detractors were left to cruel fates. and on one windy day, as they strode into town. the faces where tenfold and a hush passed around the grey of the creature with knowing black eyes swayed left towards the crowd as if to capsize. and the mass gasped in horror; bairns seized by their mam. men flung at young ladies, babes pulled from the pram. the bewildered and flustered tired elephant sat. in the center of all on the bald pastors hat. the old pastor looked stunned to see such a disgrace. until he remembered, and composed his face. 'your highness' he bowed. his manners restored. but the poor prince was toppled his mighty seat floored. they gasped for the prince, just really a child dressed in fine silks on this elephant wild. pastor said, 'here now' extending an arm hand wrinkled and gnarled from the land that he farmed. then the guards sprung to life as if sudden awake guns point to the man of whose life they would take. and just as they squinted their eye for the aim a boy sang out sweetly, 'sire he's not to blame!' and the prince from street where he lay in pool held up his hand and recovered his rule. he looked at the crowd and he said 'boy now speak' the boy said, 'prince it is the prayers that you seek. the prayers that you'd visit. the prayers that you'd stay. lord must of heard them and granted this way.' his eyes wide with truth and the love of his church the prince laughed a beautiful belly filled lurch. the carriage was called as the prince shared a feast. and even some water was splashed on the beast. such a good time as he danced and he spun till the horses arrived in the dust of a run. to thank the town and the lovely haired boy the young prince gave up his own precious toy. the beast stays quite put in the center of town... but prayers said no more...so the prince won't fall down. sahn 04/10/2014
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Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
The Elephant Gift.
upon the elephant rode a boy prince, his royal command, he was there to evince. dark with grace and dripping with youth. bringing his men, his crown and his couth. town after town he strode fierce through the gates. and any detractors were left to cruel fates. and on one windy day, as they strode into town. the faces where tenfold and a hush passed around the grey of the creature with knowing black eyes swayed left towards the crowd as if to capsize. and the mass gasped in horror; bairns seized by their mam. men flung at young ladies, babes pulled from the pram. the bewildered and flustered tired elephant sat. in the center of all on the bald pastors hat. the old pastor looked stunned to see such a disgrace. until he remembered, and composed his face. 'your highness' he bowed. his manners restored. but the poor prince was toppled his mighty seat floored. they gasped for the prince, just really a child dressed in fine silks on this elephant wild. pastor said, 'here now' extending an arm hand wrinkled and gnarled from the land that he farmed. then the guards sprung to life as if sudden awake guns point to the man of whose life they would take. and just as they squinted their eye for the aim a boy sang out sweetly, 'sire he's not to blame!' and the prince from street where he lay in pool held up his hand and recovered his rule. he looked at the crowd and he said 'boy now speak' the boy said, 'prince it is the prayers that you seek. the prayers that you'd visit. the prayers that you'd stay. lord must of heard them and granted this way.' his eyes wide with truth and the love of his church the prince laughed a beautiful belly filled lurch. the carriage was called as the prince shared a feast. and even some water was splashed on the beast. such a good time as he danced and he spun till the horses arrived in the dust of a run. to thank the town and the lovely haired boy the young prince gave up his own precious toy. the beast stays quite put in the center of town... but prayers said no more...so the prince won't fall down. sahn 04/10/2014
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45
A thousand tumbles takes a bottle in the sea- a thousand dashes and whirls and swoops. A million grains of sand takes that bottle in the sea, to break apart, to come to me in fragments like a snowflake fractal. How many mermaid miles till she hands that glass to me? For I've taken out my very-ness, for you. - And my crossness. My judgement and wrath. I've taken out slight hot breathe                (for you to melt the ice on your whiskers.) I've taken out my toes when they are reaching for yours in the cavernous blanket world  through the forest of our lazy limbs. I've taken out my righteousness and my second guessing. I've taken out for you (a surprise, I was going to surprise you!) all the times you were going to be wrong to me-           and to wrong me... taken them out to sea, you see? In that bottle, pretty bottle. Broken now like too many vows. I've taken out my knowing best and finding better. I've taken out the half moon of your thumbnail as well ...I will miss that in my night sky- (perhaps I'll keep that after all.) I'll take out the complacency of holding your hand getting out of a chair. and the mindless strokes as you explain my commonplace crazy to simpler minds- I'll take out the very-ness of me, and the we-ness of us. and fill a bottle with a the brine of a thousand tears from hundred slights not slighted quite yet. I fill the bottle and gift the sea with the softness of you and the brashness of me. A thousand turnabouts it takes to reach you on the beach, a sea glass diamond ring, engage me you engaging man- and the tides tickles my feet in anticipation, marry me. marry me. just a sea glass promise for a mermaid bride waiting for the sailor man to sing her sweetly with salt on his lips Just a sea glass lullaby from the man who loves me so. Marry me, marry me And we drink sparkling water from a sea glass flute and we drink all the us and we drink all the we for sea glass could never hold a second in, sea glass is far too vain not to shine in the sun fanning your invite out in a spectrum of color that a small child's hand creates when he holds it up to the rays. Spills out all of my intentions Spoiled child, loved child, Spills out all of my intentions carelessly on the sandy floor for the tides to swallow whole. My sea glass prism chucked unceremoniously back to sea and me the mermaid bride left at her own alter... But a seashell to your ear and her my wailing sorrow calls, 'marry me, sailor. marry me.' sahn 8/5/14
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Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
Sailor Groom and Mermaid Bride
A thousand tumbles takes a bottle in the sea- a thousand dashes and whirls and swoops. A million grains of sand takes that bottle in the sea, to break apart, to come to me in fragments like a snowflake fractal. How many mermaid miles till she hands that glass to me? For I've taken out my very-ness, for you. - And my crossness. My judgement and wrath. I've taken out slight hot breathe                (for you to melt the ice on your whiskers.) I've taken out my toes when they are reaching for yours in the cavernous blanket world  through the forest of our lazy limbs. I've taken out my righteousness and my second guessing. I've taken out for you (a surprise, I was going to surprise you!) all the times you were going to be wrong to me-           and to wrong me... taken them out to sea, you see? In that bottle, pretty bottle. Broken now like too many vows. I've taken out my knowing best and finding better. I've taken out the half moon of your thumbnail as well ...I will miss that in my night sky- (perhaps I'll keep that after all.) I'll take out the complacency of holding your hand getting out of a chair. and the mindless strokes as you explain my commonplace crazy to simpler minds- I'll take out the very-ness of me, and the we-ness of us. and fill a bottle with a the brine of a thousand tears from hundred slights not slighted quite yet. I fill the bottle and gift the sea with the softness of you and the brashness of me. A thousand turnabouts it takes to reach you on the beach, a sea glass diamond ring, engage me you engaging man- and the tides tickles my feet in anticipation, marry me. marry me. just a sea glass promise for a mermaid bride waiting for the sailor man to sing her sweetly with salt on his lips Just a sea glass lullaby from the man who loves me so. Marry me, marry me And we drink sparkling water from a sea glass flute and we drink all the us and we drink all the we for sea glass could never hold a second in, sea glass is far too vain not to shine in the sun fanning your invite out in a spectrum of color that a small child's hand creates when he holds it up to the rays. Spills out all of my intentions Spoiled child, loved child, Spills out all of my intentions carelessly on the sandy floor for the tides to swallow whole. My sea glass prism chucked unceremoniously back to sea and me the mermaid bride left at her own alter... But a seashell to your ear and her my wailing sorrow calls, 'marry me, sailor. marry me.' sahn 8/5/14
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55
As i throw it, watch it shatter Pick discretion-make them matter As i fumble for the clock And **** upon his lovely **** Because my tongue is sharp and wicked You taste of lemons when i lick it. Remember when I'm going down This queen wears a jaded crown. And when your grip has found my hair Pull it till the devil's there. Sahn 4/16
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Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 2:46 AM UTC
Our Affair
sorrow like a garden grows, around my feet and through my toes. sahn 5/11/14
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May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
sorrow spring 12w
It all spins gravitational pull and I- astronaut distance orbit it sadly. My only regret- out in the black nothing is not feeling my back against brick one more time. Push me against the cold and cutting and kiss me with your hands by my head. Ever so cleverly holding the wall- holding the world. Holding out on me. As I tumble, astronaut girl and look at the blue beneath my toes my only regret is not learning how fly that kite. Learning how to ride currents with colorful useless beautiful toys. So very stuck, was I, on all of the moons That I never took to dragons with tails or red and black scales and days taken hostage and grass that can lasso and pull me in earthbound. Now I am anchored to nothing and watch as the blessed and foolish dance at weddings and funerals and I watch from above. Astronaut, I am my only regret is that all of this time I've spent farming the stars I never did learn to correctly love you. Sahn 4.13.15
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Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
She, Astronaut
I thought when I'd turn to moss, - when i had left myself to root. When I had laid me down at last, Than I'd not miss you endlessly. I did not know I'd find my soul dancing lithely in a flame. A spanish dancer I've become flickering my reds and blues. I jump from wick to match to ash and dance my saraband, contritely. Yet I thought that when I sighed so lastly undone would neatly fold away like origami boutonniere I'd be pressed between your book something that you'd heave to shelf and only gather dust and time. Regrets, it seems, don't like to die. So I'm left haunted by my haunting. And had I known before I wept that remonstration without intention was leaving all the notes unsung by leaving catching in my voice. I am singing in the mountains, madly about what does not skip in the fields and what does not drip from the sapling... For love does neither frolic gayly as much endures beyond repentance. and I am left, on pebble shores forever with my sharp withholdings Stubbornly I held onto them, Now they cut my like small diamonds. I am glass and they are listless wasted, mindless, pointless prattle. Remind me fresh our penalties for All the love we do not spend. Sahn 7/01/2014
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Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
Symbiotic
I catch you in the petrichor, I catch the musk of you- the dark of you, the vanishing drought of you I dance within your jejune dusk- empty hollow hunger howls, 'no substance here, no substance here' and in every day that I get to love you- I'll love you in the jamais vu. so that I can forget I know how and learn to love you yet again. Felicity, I'll bring to you. In a basket, on a bike- I'll wear a fetching hat with a ribbon down my back as I sing to you in symphonies that echo in an empty room. I'll sit delicate on Icarus wings and love you till I melt- Knowingly I'll greet the sun swimming in the candle wax- I'll have done all these things yet not enough Till I've loved you when the day is done. sahn 6/30/2014
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Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
Petrichor
Hi there. I think you are beautiful people and poets if your name is on this list. Here is the list. There are more but if I just paste every poet I like on this site's name then it doesn't meant anything there are too many so I'm going to post later ones with the names of the poets I really like but I'm going to limit it to ten per post. I strongly suggest you check out their poetry because it is amazing. The order of the names has nothing to do with the quality or my favor they are all equally loved by me in different ways for their work which is all a different shade of beautiful. I invite everyone to post a poem with 10 beautiful poets' names on this site that people should check out. Yet another one of my challenges. If you do the "10 Beautiful Poets Challenge" add "10beautifulpoets" as a hashtag so people can find it. Also feel free to message me if you post one of these so I can check them out too :) Just a great way to let people know about specific beautiful poets out there. Include something about their poetry specific to that poet beside their name. :) Here is my list for the day: -AllAtOnce magnificent and seriously extraordinary poetry -Spencer Craig genius and wonderfully written -D'Arcy Sahn Hilarious and lovely writing with good meanings -Ena Alysopriano Powerful and phenomenal writing seriously life changingly exquisite -Theara Steglaidias  Incredibly spectacular poetry and such original fantastic ideas and well structured -WickedHope Particularly relatable, BEAUTIFUL work AND poet -Sir Poet Genuinely kind poet also STUNNINGLY superb and deep poetry -Thomas A Robinson Excellent poet and poetry, fabulous work -The Creep That Loved You Divinely marvelous poetry you need to read more than once and awesome poet (pretty awesome name too ;P -Parsavagely Kompenere  Unbelievably relatable and strikingly delightful deeply moving work and wildly talented poet So yeah! Check them out! :D PLEASE REPOST THIS SO THAT AS MANY AS PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE GET INVOLVED IT WOULD BE COOL TO TELL LOTS OF OTHER PEOPLE ABOUT AWESOME POETS SO THEY GET OO ENJOY THEIR WORK TOO AND MAKE IT LIKE, A THING. 10 BEAUTIFUL POETS CHALLENGE. I ENOURAGE YOU TO PARTICIPATE! :)
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Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 7:55 PM UTC
10 BEAUTIFUL POETS LIST/CHALLENGE
Hi there. I think you are beautiful people and poets if your name is on this list. Here is the list. There are more but if I just paste every poet I like on this site's name then it doesn't meant anything there are too many so I'm going to post later ones with the names of the poets I really like but I'm going to limit it to ten per post. I strongly suggest you check out their poetry because it is amazing. The order of the names has nothing to do with the quality or my favor they are all equally loved by me in different ways for their work which is all a different shade of beautiful. I invite everyone to post a poem with 10 beautiful poets' names on this site that people should check out. Yet another one of my challenges. If you do the "10 Beautiful Poets Challenge" add "10beautifulpoets" as a hashtag so people can find it. Also feel free to message me if you post one of these so I can check them out too :) Just a great way to let people know about specific beautiful poets out there. Include something about their poetry specific to that poet beside their name. :) Here is my list for the day: -AllAtOnce magnificent and seriously extraordinary poetry -Spencer Craig genius and wonderfully written -D'Arcy Sahn Hilarious and lovely writing with good meanings -Ena Alysopriano Powerful and phenomenal writing seriously life changingly exquisite -Theara Steglaidias  Incredibly spectacular poetry and such original fantastic ideas and well structured -WickedHope Particularly relatable, BEAUTIFUL work AND poet -Sir Poet Genuinely kind poet also STUNNINGLY superb and deep poetry -Thomas A Robinson Excellent poet and poetry, fabulous work -The Creep That Loved You Divinely marvelous poetry you need to read more than once and awesome poet (pretty awesome name too ;P -Parsavagely Kompenere  Unbelievably relatable and strikingly delightful deeply moving work and wildly talented poet So yeah! Check them out! :D PLEASE REPOST THIS SO THAT AS MANY AS PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE GET INVOLVED IT WOULD BE COOL TO TELL LOTS OF OTHER PEOPLE ABOUT AWESOME POETS SO THEY GET OO ENJOY THEIR WORK TOO AND MAKE IT LIKE, A THING. 10 BEAUTIFUL POETS CHALLENGE. I ENOURAGE YOU TO PARTICIPATE! :)
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24
come to me. to the floor where i kneel in front of you. follow me- pay attention close and bend. your will. your beliefs, your promises. your boundaries. your comfort. follow me with your stare as i slither back above the floor. and crawl over your expectations your judgments your rehearsed words dripping like drool from a baby's lip. delight, devine as i slide off this good girl's skin contain your greed disbelief desire while i take you up mountains in your mind, lover. i raise you from the center of the sky. while i blind you with lust 'till you feel silken places inside- so fragile they will tear ill bring the goblet to your mouth sir- with the richest ruby reds slither down your throat as if it were alive. oh yes, we will climb, feel the mount behind us holding us up... wind up so high must be stealing our breath I will give you touch, lover. the kind you never found in all your searches. the kind the does the touching with it's shadow not it's skin and the shadow dances to tickle in the most promising of places. yes ill give you whispers up here-bounce them around like a helium star slowly whisper here, bouncing, slowly whisper there. rake what used to be my fingers.... now though they are sticks from the forest bound together to glide through your silky hair and leave their beautiful pine scent. come to me, and share old magic just a baby of the woods- lay you on a bed of branches cold leaves, borough in your naked skin... bring to me now your empty pallet and fill my sorrow with your fight. sahn.   11/23/2018
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Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
the proposal
come to me. to the floor where i kneel in front of you. follow me- pay attention close and bend. your will. your beliefs, your promises. your boundaries. your comfort. follow me with your stare as i slither back above the floor. and crawl over your expectations your judgments your rehearsed words dripping like drool from a baby's lip. delight, devine as i slide off this good girl's skin contain your greed disbelief desire while i take you up mountains in your mind, lover. i raise you from the center of the sky. while i blind you with lust 'till you feel silken places inside- so fragile they will tear ill bring the goblet to your mouth sir- with the richest ruby reds slither down your throat as if it were alive. oh yes, we will climb, feel the mount behind us holding us up... wind up so high must be stealing our breath I will give you touch, lover. the kind you never found in all your searches. the kind the does the touching with it's shadow not it's skin and the shadow dances to tickle in the most promising of places. yes ill give you whispers up here-bounce them around like a helium star slowly whisper here, bouncing, slowly whisper there. rake what used to be my fingers.... now though they are sticks from the forest bound together to glide through your silky hair and leave their beautiful pine scent. come to me, and share old magic just a baby of the woods- lay you on a bed of branches cold leaves, borough in your naked skin... bring to me now your empty pallet and fill my sorrow with your fight. sahn.   11/23/2018
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49
Seven times I told you, Seventy pins in seventy dolls on seventy dusty shelves in New Orleans backrooms. Seven times I warned you Seven hundred aches, seven hundred acres I run across. I outrun the burn and I outrun the grief The witch in me, I race with her too. Seven miles to run, seven miles behind. And I pass that playful laugh of yours, grab at it and stick it in my pocket, shove it deep, deep in my pocket. And I pass that twinkle in your eyes and I grab that too, send it on a paper rocket flying the speed of light into seven universes far away. I grab that last promise the one that was slippery and hard to hold onto. I grab it and hold it tight And I run. I told you I would (you looked so surprised). I run and my bones hit the ground with the rhythm and pulse of a tribal drummer He drums out in my head Run, Run, henny Run.   He drinks my optimism from a cup, then beats his drum. Run, chickadee, run run. He vomits my clarity at my feet all the while his brown weathered hands drum a ceaseless beat. Run, baby. He loves you not, run. On the seventh day I run from you and I find that I am made now from the down of your hair so I run until I am bald. I find that I am made now from stalactites dripping from your tongue. Celtic knot of assurances and reassurances. I am made up of moments that I didn't make. I am made up of your indecision. They bounce gleefully "I don't know, I don't know..." they insist as they hit walls and corners. They are lazy, I outrun them with ease. Seven times I told you, Itchy souls need to find a branch for stratching. Seven miles between me and you Seven hundred to go. Sahn 6/12/14
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Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 1:01 PM UTC
Dolly Voodoo
Seven times I told you, Seventy pins in seventy dolls on seventy dusty shelves in New Orleans backrooms. Seven times I warned you Seven hundred aches, seven hundred acres I run across. I outrun the burn and I outrun the grief The witch in me, I race with her too. Seven miles to run, seven miles behind. And I pass that playful laugh of yours, grab at it and stick it in my pocket, shove it deep, deep in my pocket. And I pass that twinkle in your eyes and I grab that too, send it on a paper rocket flying the speed of light into seven universes far away. I grab that last promise the one that was slippery and hard to hold onto. I grab it and hold it tight And I run. I told you I would (you looked so surprised). I run and my bones hit the ground with the rhythm and pulse of a tribal drummer He drums out in my head Run, Run, henny Run.   He drinks my optimism from a cup, then beats his drum. Run, chickadee, run run. He vomits my clarity at my feet all the while his brown weathered hands drum a ceaseless beat. Run, baby. He loves you not, run. On the seventh day I run from you and I find that I am made now from the down of your hair so I run until I am bald. I find that I am made now from stalactites dripping from your tongue. Celtic knot of assurances and reassurances. I am made up of moments that I didn't make. I am made up of your indecision. They bounce gleefully "I don't know, I don't know..." they insist as they hit walls and corners. They are lazy, I outrun them with ease. Seven times I told you, Itchy souls need to find a branch for stratching. Seven miles between me and you Seven hundred to go. Sahn 6/12/14
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39
My Darling, My Dearest I sink to the dirt, My regrets swirl around my body like a brides wedding dress. White lace, virginal unsoiled regrets lay about me lazily- biting my ankle, scratching up my legs to be held. My Cherished Treasure, I will carry my torment like an old man carries his walking stick Gnarled with time and miles, before any step I will take- My regret will mark the path. And I will walk for all of time with my walking stick. I will walk until I bend over in a broken bridge of bones, all the while letting my regret lead me onward. My Beloved, I will wallow in the mud of my sorrows and grief I will roll and dry, caking dirt on my belly- like the beast I have become. My Beautiful, The wounds that mortification of the flesh will produce- will be sorry attempts to understand your pain. The whip braided in tight thick leather but I can never cut deep so I might produce enough depth so instead will I bleed- another sin, another crime! I cannot feel your suffering-can only guess at the depth. Oh the endlessly black waters of your sorrow! I hold my breath, stones piled deep in my pockets. I dive, I dive...wanting, needing this sacrifice. But **** this survivalist in me. My lungs betray me- sputter and cough. I inhale my water of my sins and breathe them deep so I may drown and free you from the shackles of my crimes. My Cherished one, my Shining one- Forgive this old sinner, forgive this reprobate heart. For I love you. When the stars exploded, when universes expanded I loved you. When the first blade of grass poked it's willful head above soil, I loved you. When first Adam kissed Eve, I already loved you. In the next life where you are caterpillar and I am stump, I love you then too, and beg you use me to reach closer the sun. Forgive a fool his foolish ways, he knows no better Forgive me, cherished one and let me love you, Let me love you as the faulted love the Divine. As the sinner loves the penance, as the child loves the stars. Let me give you the moon, let me put it in on your lips. So you may kiss the moon, beloved, kiss the moon. Sahn 7/6/14
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Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC
Letter To a Lover
My Darling, My Dearest I sink to the dirt, My regrets swirl around my body like a brides wedding dress. White lace, virginal unsoiled regrets lay about me lazily- biting my ankle, scratching up my legs to be held. My Cherished Treasure, I will carry my torment like an old man carries his walking stick Gnarled with time and miles, before any step I will take- My regret will mark the path. And I will walk for all of time with my walking stick. I will walk until I bend over in a broken bridge of bones, all the while letting my regret lead me onward. My Beloved, I will wallow in the mud of my sorrows and grief I will roll and dry, caking dirt on my belly- like the beast I have become. My Beautiful, The wounds that mortification of the flesh will produce- will be sorry attempts to understand your pain. The whip braided in tight thick leather but I can never cut deep so I might produce enough depth so instead will I bleed- another sin, another crime! I cannot feel your suffering-can only guess at the depth. Oh the endlessly black waters of your sorrow! I hold my breath, stones piled deep in my pockets. I dive, I dive...wanting, needing this sacrifice. But **** this survivalist in me. My lungs betray me- sputter and cough. I inhale my water of my sins and breathe them deep so I may drown and free you from the shackles of my crimes. My Cherished one, my Shining one- Forgive this old sinner, forgive this reprobate heart. For I love you. When the stars exploded, when universes expanded I loved you. When the first blade of grass poked it's willful head above soil, I loved you. When first Adam kissed Eve, I already loved you. In the next life where you are caterpillar and I am stump, I love you then too, and beg you use me to reach closer the sun. Forgive a fool his foolish ways, he knows no better Forgive me, cherished one and let me love you, Let me love you as the faulted love the Divine. As the sinner loves the penance, as the child loves the stars. Let me give you the moon, let me put it in on your lips. So you may kiss the moon, beloved, kiss the moon. Sahn 7/6/14
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49
In a memory, in a postcard, in a corner, in my mind. I tuck it there and wrap it well old newsprint to mark its date. In a bottle, on the bottom, in the lake, in winter, I ship it there and throw out anchor and watch it as it bobs. In a place I won't remember as soon as I remember to forget you- I'll have shelved you and stocked you inventoried and packed you. And then I'll say, "just where did I leave that thing, that heart of mine?" And then I'll say, "What was that thing I remembered to forget?" In a thought that I won't think of you when I think enough to think again Is where I'll banish you to. Yes, In the that place where the lost things stay lost. In that place where broken pieces stay broke. I will take you and your soft way- long kiss, tired eyes, weary heart. No. No, I'm remembering again. Infested. I'm infested. Sahn 9/18/14
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Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC
Infested
I saw you over there, lustful man. I braided **** ribbons in my hair so they could make you think of wrists and feet and places of interest. Ribbons of heat curling from the effort of not watching me. The devil leaves a sinful man who fights within himself- The devil leaves the sinful man to battle lonesome. The devil knows what you do not- you'll never leave as victor. I pass my glaze of a glance of sigh of a slight turn- you de-watched me too. That is to say you watched me so tightly you had to un-think me with purpose. You had to descend on those deviant rungs step ginger down, rung by rung by rung and you stopped half way between me up here and me down there. and oh! what a glorious place you stopped. The holy place of me- where I am still a Mary and a Magdelene? I've yet to be. Sahn 3/3/15
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Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
Man Against the Wall
Rotted soul of good intention, mine is an apple core on an old black road in a holy heat. Sinner, slow down! Sinner stop your dancing and start praying for your people -mmmyes- that they start praying for you child. 'Cause it's gonna take a churchyard full of bake sales, mmmhmm and it's gonna take a winter full of galoshes by the church door whoowee, it's gonna take a village to save you, child. Heathen, pull your skirt down! stop them hips swaying left, slooow, swaying right, sloooow as you walk down that dirt road kicking up dust like you was a young colt running. Oh it's gonna take a lot saving, Yessum, it's gonna take a lake a dunking... Oh but Lord! It's gonna take a lot of praying, Hallelujah, gonna need a lot of rosaries to save your eternal life, girl I am as rotten as a pit of peach, dried and without yield. no value, no good. Child, it's gonna take a revival to save this soul. Mama, start that revival and save your babies soul. sahn 2/6/15
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Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 12:02 AM UTC
revival tent
Storm into that room so you will be seen, and hold up high, sun salute that body, that vessel you got! Take every vertebrae, mmm pull it taught Pull it. Pull it as twine itself wrapped around my words- each bone creaking like footfalls on old wooden stairs. And look directly at your soul- Do not squirm in the shame of your nakedness - beautiful lustful abundantly naked- Instead Crest, oh lord, White swirling madness of intentions. and take these old bones, baby- take this body Take these old bones of mine and pull them up, Stretch, find the strength! and pull- Take those limped shoulders and throw them back to the gods! Oh your rusted soul, fill it with water from the Darma ***** Crick. And it might burn- sting and sour. Make you cough, choke and sputter. But oh Renewed, Renewed! And you start out with the feet, kicking rocks on the road, mmmm. And end with the head bowed back with a psalm bouncing on red berry lips, mmm Oh, yes! Hands out to glory, oh feet moving, dancing hot pavement below like Hades. Step and another, another. Until your out of frame... Oh glory is the road. Cleaned and cleansed as you go, Hear me? Cleansed as you go, down Sinner Lane. Cleansed and cleansing is the road of the revival parade. sahn 8/25/14
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Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
Song of the Miscreants on Glory Road
I missed you today. With a suddenness, a bereft slap across my skin. When that familiar hair ahead of me on the sidewalk turned. And it wasn't you. I missed you in the hollow of the moment of the stranger who wasn't you. And with resounding howl Like a grieving mother I missed you. I remember in the sheets we'd tangle, I smelled them. I smelled summer air and my perfume I smelled your soap and your musk in that minute second on the street. I stopped and I breathed in deep. Inhale, Inhale. Before you turned and it was not you. Like a sailor's wife on the shore I watched as the stranger who wasn't you turned back down the street Growing smaller and smaller in the distance. And a thousand piercing stinging blinding pins of light forced themselves. They stabbed at me and took my breath. Took your scent and the bed we lay. On the street, on the street as you walked away, the stranger. Paralyzing me with your nearness only to be someone so very much not you. I missed you and i stood in the street and gravity gave up its pull to laugh at my foolishness and my eyes filled with tears to celebrate their perfect deception. and my bones forgot how to hold on for dear life and I slid to the ground to the ground because I saw you today on the street. The stranger that wasn't you. I have learned the art of hiccuping you inside. Memory, hiccup. There you are now tucked away inside. Kisses on the soft hairs at the nape. Hiccup that away too. And all of the hiccups came out in a swallow of your name... A hundred swallows, truth. They flew wickedly around my head  gleeful in my faux pas. And ten hungry vultures came to take the remains of my hope. Pick away greedily at my anticipation. Satiated on the last of my blind faith and now they are too fat to fly. And I am too weak to run. Because I saw you on the street today, The stranger that wasn't you. My beloved. My adored. Such a peculiar street. I will not pass this way again. sahn 04/09/2014
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
Doppleganger
I missed you today. With a suddenness, a bereft slap across my skin. When that familiar hair ahead of me on the sidewalk turned. And it wasn't you. I missed you in the hollow of the moment of the stranger who wasn't you. And with resounding howl Like a grieving mother I missed you. I remember in the sheets we'd tangle, I smelled them. I smelled summer air and my perfume I smelled your soap and your musk in that minute second on the street. I stopped and I breathed in deep. Inhale, Inhale. Before you turned and it was not you. Like a sailor's wife on the shore I watched as the stranger who wasn't you turned back down the street Growing smaller and smaller in the distance. And a thousand piercing stinging blinding pins of light forced themselves. They stabbed at me and took my breath. Took your scent and the bed we lay. On the street, on the street as you walked away, the stranger. Paralyzing me with your nearness only to be someone so very much not you. I missed you and i stood in the street and gravity gave up its pull to laugh at my foolishness and my eyes filled with tears to celebrate their perfect deception. and my bones forgot how to hold on for dear life and I slid to the ground to the ground because I saw you today on the street. The stranger that wasn't you. I have learned the art of hiccuping you inside. Memory, hiccup. There you are now tucked away inside. Kisses on the soft hairs at the nape. Hiccup that away too. And all of the hiccups came out in a swallow of your name... A hundred swallows, truth. They flew wickedly around my head  gleeful in my faux pas. And ten hungry vultures came to take the remains of my hope. Pick away greedily at my anticipation. Satiated on the last of my blind faith and now they are too fat to fly. And I am too weak to run. Because I saw you on the street today, The stranger that wasn't you. My beloved. My adored. Such a peculiar street. I will not pass this way again. sahn 04/09/2014
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In that, the tiny pushpins that invade my clumsy pulse. In that I find you in that- the electric scarf I wear around my neck Insomuch I find you choke me so I am not wordless, I am not without screaming- dripping and falling from my lips wrapped like gifts of mortar more out than in no I am not wordless. I see you and tiny electric pulses dance on me dice through me I feel you touch so perfect like a violin string strung- strung taught tight against my mouth tight against you leaving. I am sensory. I am sound that bounces angry I am sound that chisels the prayers of the prayer wheels upon the bumps of my spine. listen, listen for your footfalls and you will touch me, perfect touch of space and air and fingertips that have no bones no skin just a note on a cello-of a touch and a kiss from behind my neck a strangle, such the kiss is tight. tiny electric pulses through me, oh, love, for the tiny electric pulses that bounce through, move me. prayers on the prayer wheel spinning. sahn 01/22/15
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Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
Tiny Pulses
You are my dandylion and I wait with stealth of a summer day for you to stop preening in the field of high grass and green bottles. Yes. I wait, stroke you gentle with the ease of the summer breeze as you sway and waltz for the primroses and the cricket. I watch with willful patience like the ripening of the wild belladonna. as you tease with your burst of yellow for the field mouse and the garden gnome. Yes. I will wait like summers heat And when you are done, And when your pretty petals lay limply at your roots, I will take you gentle into my summers grasp and with my summers breathe blow your beautiful grey afro out unto the world to swallow. Dandylion, pretty primping boy are you. Sahn 6/7/2014
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Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 2:51 PM UTC
Field Song
You will lean across my body, you pause as we both stare. inside the cosmos of our eyes two universes ask each other, will you kiss me? will you let me? and you will lean across my body. and you will breathe a breath so deep it blows my hair behind my neck which tickles my ear and i hear you whisper a thousand secrets in that tickled breathe of how wicked, how divine you are. and you will lean across this body and your chest will heave mighty gasps from mighty heartbeats and quicked breaths. valves that open and close like butterfly wings in pursuit and you will lean across this body, my body and i will feel your lips and they will feel as vast and endless and unforgiving as the ocean, and you will lean, you will heavily... with all your might, you will lean across this body, and you will grit your teeth like lovers will, when lovers want. and you will lean across this body, you will push across this body and you will grasp and dive, and fall, and tumble and and you will lean across this body, my body, and you will kiss me and i will wake. sahn 4/29/2014
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Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
i will wake
Destroy me. Take what you can from the middle. Take that golden yellow moon- that sherbert sunset in the center of how I exist, **** it, take it! And Stubbornly I'll be. When all that is left is bones for the jackal to satiate on when all that is heard is bubbles popping and the jaw creaking from the overuse of what was inside me- When that dark and silken predator lies lazy on it's back with my contents fuming in its distention... destroy me, do. ***** my remains with huge heaving gusts of your gluttony. Because you will. Because I am too heavy to carry, I am too light to settle. Oh, yes I'll be your posion, and into every cell I will invade marching with my army, marching with my anger I will wiggle in your ear and chew through the pictures in your mind, eating at the corners of everyone you covet most. I'll call you in a singsong voice that does not end. In every room you'll look to hear- in every corner your try to hide from it. I will flood your soul with my wrongdoings so you carry mine as well as yours. Yes, destroy me- dust. And you will perish from my digestion and you will carry my heavy sins. Oh, what is left? What is left? Just the eternal weight of light and you cannot eat that, On light you can feast but not thrive. It will not still the noise of the rotting wood that sits solid and solitary in the place where someone stole your exclusive rights to feel joy. Sahn 3/26/2015
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Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
The Insatiable Raven
I want each step to land my foot tangled heather ash and soot. And lead to where the wicked go... where the darling schoolgirls know when to turn with redden hue gasping their intact virtue. Yet I long my footfall down- mossy sinfully buoyant ground. Run to meet him by the stone kiss him on it's granite bones. And he'll swing me wide with wonder pirate, he'll be, ravage. plunder. I go where all the good girls shant. all my christian vows recant. Yes I will meet him by the river and onward I keep through the creeping myrtle, creep- and the sinners sandbox and painted ladies swings (where I rest my chastity case) that's covered in leather and tied up with lace. Delight   as I watch good girls gasp- as I swing wide hips, wide. Thier ****** ******* clasps. And that night will give birth to a wretched new way I am wanton and crafty and unwelcome at tables-where ladies demure and insist on "no more!" and need polite conversations to endless relations. I'll roar down that path like a thundering herd, like an air stream that carries the weariest bird. I'm curved, I'm pillowed. I'm chest out. I'm willowed... I'll have holes in my souls all four of them dotted. Or six of them spotted? Like a cat's lives they'll feed so that reaper, recedes. It's this path, though, you see them? The Glories majestic. Twined up the tree trunk and my heart is arrested. I'm put in the mind of those sinewy women and sin comes in scent where that glory blooms nightly and clasp hold of these moments of recklessness tightly. Sahn 1/12/2015
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Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
Morning Glory Road
I want each step to land my foot tangled heather ash and soot. And lead to where the wicked go... where the darling schoolgirls know when to turn with redden hue gasping their intact virtue. Yet I long my footfall down- mossy sinfully buoyant ground. Run to meet him by the stone kiss him on it's granite bones. And he'll swing me wide with wonder pirate, he'll be, ravage. plunder. I go where all the good girls shant. all my christian vows recant. Yes I will meet him by the river and onward I keep through the creeping myrtle, creep- and the sinners sandbox and painted ladies swings (where I rest my chastity case) that's covered in leather and tied up with lace. Delight   as I watch good girls gasp- as I swing wide hips, wide. Thier ****** ******* clasps. And that night will give birth to a wretched new way I am wanton and crafty and unwelcome at tables-where ladies demure and insist on "no more!" and need polite conversations to endless relations. I'll roar down that path like a thundering herd, like an air stream that carries the weariest bird. I'm curved, I'm pillowed. I'm chest out. I'm willowed... I'll have holes in my souls all four of them dotted. Or six of them spotted? Like a cat's lives they'll feed so that reaper, recedes. It's this path, though, you see them? The Glories majestic. Twined up the tree trunk and my heart is arrested. I'm put in the mind of those sinewy women and sin comes in scent where that glory blooms nightly and clasp hold of these moments of recklessness tightly. Sahn 1/12/2015
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I am running legs flying like Hermes wings. I am running past, so far beyond the pain. I am running from that kiss... tender kiss. Stupid kiss, wanton, lustful, bursting kiss. full of promises and tasting like salty beer and silky words slithering arm around my waistline making me forget I have time to waste I am running, from your words. I am running from the picket fence and picket hearts and how do I belong in this circle of things ? I am running and I breathe so much better out here alone. I am running until I can't see that house with manicured lawn and manicured family me so wily, wooo so wild. If I hear my footsteps I've come too close to my heart. I am running and the trees, they race me in a blur                                            when I turn my head                       They are waving back. I am running and the sun gets a head start, but always falls behind, behind. I am running can't outrun you can't unrun you can't unring you can't ignore this bell. I am running and as fast as I go, I can't outrun a circle, and I hear the bells. Yes, I hear the bells, runner. sahn 9/14/14
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Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
Bell Runner
I stretch, and stretch up towards a place where my head is far further above so that I cannot hear the jet engine of your words. I hear my bones creak with the effort to get away from the pollution of your coal train ramming me. I hear only my body cracking like spring ice as I rise, rise - rise above your noise toxins that settle like limp and sodden cardboard crowns worn about your tortured head. High above your hollow community above your entitlement park,   above your tiny- tinny voice. I hear it. Your hateful sounds like poultry jibber so far down in atmospheres below. I laugh to hear your wordless squawl! I stretch but  now to bend and see you beneath my squishy toes. Bend at the waist to see who's nipping at my ankles and I cry a tear of mirth. A white rapid that whisks your bitter apple groove far away. I stretch you gone. I stretch you indifferent. I grow myself pardoned, I grow my self free. sahn 2/15/15
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Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
Bite
how many ways must i give you up? grief is just a sport for lucid and the lame. how many boughs till i break this falling- to the mossy hill below? where grief is just a shallow pool with reflections of me beautifully crying We ugly mourners live to talk. selfish shallow pool of grief- my yellow rainboots fall madly upon my mirrored head. i am just a puddle and i wear it like a man because sometimes... grief is just a tailored suit all dressed up in pawpaws best neatly pressed. the seams of your life sewn in a straight line. it's easy to compartmentalize the times you weren't your greatest you. in death you leave the lovely behind and take away the rest. in life you leave the death behind and take away the lovely such a wasted irony. grief is valentine. wont you be mine pinks and whites? sugared promises of time. grief is a lovers candy heart. sentiments on marble etch the total of our time. grief of mine, such weather beaten blanket. when did she become my lover? cast aside your sadness. grief is a friend of mine, grief is a friend of mine. Sahn 4/22/2014
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Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
7 sorrows 7 saints
He sits on the carousel wheel, her lover neglectful- looks over the night as the neon illuminates the shiny people. He sits on the carousel wheel and loves to get stuck at the top so he may contemplate jumping, so to contemplate swinging with madness from one cart to another and then safely to the cart that holds her. Hero, him. He looks over the crowd as they swish around him- sway around him moving by him as if they were dancing to a song in his head but he is not dancing. He's looking for her. He pops several balloons with a fiery dart walks away from the girl with the silken stockings held to her thigh by violet bow...a violent blow to his lustful ways, he looks firmly down to the dirt on his boots, kicks rocks, kicks air. Stops at the man who swallows fire from a stick, "answer me, answer me"- the man spits ember lies. He's looking for her in each clown pulling their make up down with his finger and it looks like they're crying so he can't really know if it is her he has found? Oh neglectful lover. He busies himself by winning a prize for his beloved, his lost A prize- his reward for believing in true love. He busies himself, knocks down milk bottles- and punches the punching bags insults the slow and disgusted carnie hags, He moves from gate to gate and it feels more like Hades inside where he's lost her so he's been lost. When he's lost her he's scared that she will not feel, lost but found. And he will not feel found- but destroyed. Teacups to twirl around the dance he will swirl her around to the day that he marries her, if he can find her, nay- when he can find her... he'll put her in the teacup ride and never let the spinning stop. He'll fill her life with lights and sounds and cotton candy and he'll marry her he will right on the tiptop of the ferris wheel where he sits looking round. sahn 10/19/14
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Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
The Carnie
He sits on the carousel wheel, her lover neglectful- looks over the night as the neon illuminates the shiny people. He sits on the carousel wheel and loves to get stuck at the top so he may contemplate jumping, so to contemplate swinging with madness from one cart to another and then safely to the cart that holds her. Hero, him. He looks over the crowd as they swish around him- sway around him moving by him as if they were dancing to a song in his head but he is not dancing. He's looking for her. He pops several balloons with a fiery dart walks away from the girl with the silken stockings held to her thigh by violet bow...a violent blow to his lustful ways, he looks firmly down to the dirt on his boots, kicks rocks, kicks air. Stops at the man who swallows fire from a stick, "answer me, answer me"- the man spits ember lies. He's looking for her in each clown pulling their make up down with his finger and it looks like they're crying so he can't really know if it is her he has found? Oh neglectful lover. He busies himself by winning a prize for his beloved, his lost A prize- his reward for believing in true love. He busies himself, knocks down milk bottles- and punches the punching bags insults the slow and disgusted carnie hags, He moves from gate to gate and it feels more like Hades inside where he's lost her so he's been lost. When he's lost her he's scared that she will not feel, lost but found. And he will not feel found- but destroyed. Teacups to twirl around the dance he will swirl her around to the day that he marries her, if he can find her, nay- when he can find her... he'll put her in the teacup ride and never let the spinning stop. He'll fill her life with lights and sounds and cotton candy and he'll marry her he will right on the tiptop of the ferris wheel where he sits looking round. sahn 10/19/14
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