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Forbidden fruit of Barbados
Oh how she glows.

Sectional sweetness
Bitter in aftertaste

My favorite things in life
Always seem to be similar

Maybe because
I prefer the familiar

The curve and the shape
Contour and ripe

As I slice thee in half
I notice your walls

Serrated spoon in hand
Showing gratitude toward the land

For it bears blessed fruits
The fruit blesses me

Upon receiving sour
Bite after bite

The bitterness sets in
Night after night

Grapefruit makes me happy
Grapefruit makes me smile

I hope that I don’t get sick
At least not for a while
I love grapefruit, I just hope it doesn't make me sick!!
Marieta Maglas Aug 2013
(Richard and Anne opened their eyes.)

It was an emotional moment John never dared dream would happen.
He embraced his father, who was wearing a royal fur mantle of lapin.
'I feel like a little kid.' They broke down in tears, in each other’s arms.
'Those wall clocks worked to jolt you out of dreamland with big alarms.

The happiness in the family was clear in their massive smiles,
But the queen said,' I'm as tired as walking five hundred miles.'
They described how this meeting has made them be complete.
Frederick left them for an intimacy talk liking to be discreet.

'I can’t get out of bed’; said Anne, ‘I have a weird sensation in my legs.’
Freda came into the room saying, ‘I cooked for you bacon and eggs.'
'I can't eat with these shaky, weak arms, and I have a stomach pain.'
'Taking care of your needs is so hard,' ‘From meat, I must abstain.'

Jezebel came into the room, ‘my dear mother, how do you feel?'
'My eyes are blurry, and I can't see you. ‘To pray for you I kneel.'
‘I feel so light-headed, foggy, and faint. I'm thirsty, and I want to sleep,'
Said Richard. ‘I hear you, my dear father, and I began to weep.'

(After four months, in the castle, people were ready again for the wedding.)


The Archbishop was committed to keeping the wedding confidential.
Thus, the religious ceremony and the dinner were quintessential.
'If I could stop that misfortune happening to her,’ the groom thought.
'As soon as a baby will come into the family, things will change a lot!'

(Mary recovered, and came to the wedding. She embraced the bride. After that, he talked with Anne.)

'I should recognize there were some moments, when I felt as giving up.
I spiraled down in a whirlpool of sadness, and life was as a death cup.
I felt backed behind a wall .It was nowhere to run, and no reason to move.
Then, I was forced to do things I would normally fiercely disapprove.

Beneath its charming, the evilness manipulates, and destroys people
For its amusement, but its history is reddened in Surah's steeple
I lost my hope that the world, this imperfect place, can be good someday,
But I felt better than before, when I heard you're well, and I began to pray.'

(Anne replied to Mary.)

I think the feeling of disappointment that started in Surah's mind,
And slipped down to her soul was the result of being spiritually blind.
The knowledge that she had been wrong seeped into her bone,
And it wasn't a world to collapse , but a woman to become a stone.

(After two years, Pauline was talking with Freda and Eda, while preparing the dinner.)

'In the cave, there are skeletons of people who died under strange
Circumstances and the entrance of this grotto had to suffer a change.'
'Once, a friend of mine heard some cries of some bat creatures.  
They can ****** kids. ‘An expression of fear crossed Eda's features.

'Their bodies are black, though their wings are dark brown or red.
Their lower jaws contain serrated teeth. They’re big, people said.'
'It's only a demon having red lights on the eyes making them glow.
It becomes active, when the dandelion flowers the seeds start to blow.'

'I heard that a creature as no other one was painted on the wall.
In fact, it was a huge bat creature. Bats still exist , but they're small.'
'Did you hear that Surah died? She had burned scars all over body.
In the burning castle she wore a dress, which was cheap and shoddy.'

(Frederick was talking with Jezebel.)

Jezebel sat softly on a jutting rock near the old cave’s lake.
In that fine damp mist, as usual, she wanted to take a break.
Frederick came to see her, carrying his little son in his arms,
‘I'm in love with you and still deeply captivated by your charms.’

’ The castle has an open natural entrance and a bridge over the lake.’
‘I gave the poor people a half of the treasure for your father’s sake.
Clayton came to hand Anne the blamed castle's keys telling her
That Surah died in his arms. Clayton said,'' I loved her, but we were

Two lonely people in search of a lost happiness . It seems that it was
Not helpful. Now, I go to live in a monastic community because
I want to know the stages of becoming a monk. It has been a while
Since I took the time to find out about God. ‘He went out with a smile.

(Pauline and Freda were in the kitchen of the royal castle. Pauline looked out the window, and saw Clayton leaving the castle.)

'I've always thought that Clayton was a mysterious figure as a crow.'
'He has always loved Surah. He's not able to live without her, now.'
'But where is doctor Fox?’ ‘Who’s this doctor?' 'Nobody exactly knows.’
'Freda, it is said that the secrets lose all their power if they expose.'

The end
Rangzeb Hussain Aug 2010
Madness round about us and no one knows,
Memories of ember fired trust,
Watch them, these entombed brains,
Piano sonata, violin concerto, torn notes,
Who are the ******, them or us?

Madness, insanity, absurdity, irrationality,
Craziness, dementia, stupidity, psychosis,
Senility, fanatical, deranged, mental,
Foolishness, hysterical, delusional, frenzied,
Psychotic, maniacal, lunacy, neurosis, disordered,
Take these notes and from them weave
A hymn to chaos.

And so here it begins...

Bee bar locked up honey sting hive,
For them that have wept grains of sand warm yet wet,
In that dark distant horizon mountain bark,
Onion quake cuts splash serrated blade,
Insanity uncorked frothy so seeps humanity.

Orphan sky spits pregnant daggers drip,
Wing plucked harpies never will sing,
Dead sailors salted lie in silken mermaid beds,
Schooners sail the scattered chase round the horned tail,
Skulls bubble air sockets freed from cloven trouble.

Roads webbed spiralled butterfly miles of bottled lies,
Venom harvested acres baked into medicine,
Undone years plunged inside veins popped into mouths,
I loved you know,
No, no, you did not know for all eternity.

Hope filed cabinet all lost my ghostly dancer,
Rooms silver sunned windows seared,
Playground memories brim on the haze,
Smoke fogged pipes puffed clouds,
Asleep amongst trees over green glass grass blades frost.

Hold fingers to hands strange,
Notes ring around maze tower of desires,
Low sands but tides rise and torrents break or fall,
Alone we enter same goes exit,
Midnight clowns ****** into dreamscapes.

Creased rage silver ironed steam brains,
Unfurl flags red and painted war pain,
Impotent artful eye with sedated lust,
Boil drum not loud remember to listen,
Say less, speak more, silence best of all.

Galleons crawl upon the divided cloud docks,
Look there, point to starboard land ahoy,
Deep bosomed tear slaked shore,
Sense mixed universe reduced to a tick-tock,
Never shall it stand, withered time no glance past.

Adios, fare thee well, goodbye, auf wiedersehen,
Tongues weep, eyes talk, observe tender songs silence,
Contradiction philosophises perplexing paradoxes pure,
Marbles, one and all, drown in the air,
Narrow, so narrow are those who judge all.

Sin to fear and all is terror called,
Wanton doves warble tunes broken,
Afraid I was, too wrapped in fear coiled I,
To know fright and bride forsake,
Never were holes deeper dug.

Reason not the rhythm nor rhyme,
Pandora, oh Pandora, what hast thou done?
Stare upon thy casket coffin spread-eagled,
Fire stealer Prometheus universal milk burns,
Gorgon Medusa snake dancer charmer seducer.

Silent bones drum against skin, wake up fool!
White winged dove blood red beak suite,
Humbled blood sore butchered vows vain,
Then as now silent partner is all,
Meant so much more you were.

Rapier, pistol, kiss and hold, to my temple place,
Slash, bang, smack and rake, let matter escape,
What uncharted continents we all are,
Walls rise hand bricked high over hill and sky,
Dilated screams of the civil dead no wall can cage.

Tears glitter sky to earth,
Seeding jewels amongst dung natural,
Fountains colour horizon wide,
Sanity transfigured stitched, haggled,
Eternal slaughter diamond edged sold.

Torquemada burrows rib cracked skin blood,
Skeleton tomb dust for leprosy romance,
Wail now poor Quasimodo tongue-tied,
No one to keep company but rat bones,
Unborn, forgotten, locked and barred.

Hush there! Let there be deafening silence,
Lie, cuddle snuggle, caress dark death,
There, still now, wipe away sleep,
Space time galaxies born in minds beyond measure,
Planets die, titans die, you and me we all certify.

Madness here! She creeps into bed mine,
Yours too! Oh, how richly embraced we,
Paris Town cellars breed inmates,
Lice tea stirred drunk and promises sung,
Escape none, trapped all, sky above and death underfoot.

This asylum madness no wall can hold,
Floats into night skies and into ears young,
Oh no, goodness no, you cannot out keep it in,
Destroy the house of madness you cannot,
Dost thou fear thyself knave? ‘tis merely a jest most musical,
All the chords sprinkled peppered and cast asunder.*



©Rangzeb Hussain
Julie Langlais Feb 2016
My temples pummel out
A throbbing skull
Drumming on my edges
Cracked bruises
Hidden underneath my hair
No one sees my pain
Feeling dismissed by perceived delusions
Neglect brings forth intensified loneliness
A mystery unable to solve
Potential brain damage
Resting in purgatory
Along the coastline of denial
Where I appear all right
Until another concussion
Drags me to this tide
Wanting to end my life
As I drown to the chilly depth
Wondering why my husband
Hasn't thrown me a life jacket
He tires of my imperfections
As do I….
Severity thrown under
The boat of exaggeration
No one understands my head's sensitivity
Not even me

The judgements of being weak
Of not being careful
Arguments against enjoying life
I am brought to a surplus of cries
Aching sobs swim
In my damaged head
I'm confused and lines are blurred
I'm scared and can't remember

Noises storm
Inside my ears transmitting corruption

Comatose movements
Ambushed by swelling spastic vibrations

Blinding light
Striking serrated razors between my eyes

Weighted head
Seeks detachment from its guardian

How I wish people saw this concussion for what it is

© Jl 2016
Ahnaf Apr 2020
Prickly cactus pins,
flurried toward my skin.
sinking down on sheets of lies,
my epidermis falsified.

Cells of blood like moss-covered bricks,
pierced right through by cactus ******.
The places where it stings,
lie deeper than I’ve ever been into my own flesh and bones,
and my heart would never condone,
but tonight I let it bleed,
to know myself a little more.

These prickly cactus pins,
dotted all over my skin,
I dare not try ever again,
to hide the contours of my brain.

Reams of envelopes lie in wait,
to say a few words to my mates.
The lies – they saw, although much of it they forgot,
and some were never for them to understand,
but now cactus ****** have serrated my heart,
only and only the truth pours out,
as the tissues of life, are ripped apart.
AXplorer Jan 2015
The jagged cut from the dull, serrated blade of rejection. I lay down for you wounded, asking for healing and compassion. The absence of your touch wakes me to the shooting pain up my leg.
The infection of grief is growing as the reality sets in looking down where my leg once was.

I am an amputee.

My leg, my foundation of who I am, has been hacked off without anesthesia.

This separation procedure has taken months of sawing. Startled wake today hemeragging emotions at the wound of your disregard.  Doc explained I've been experiencing fanthom limb...

"But we've been walking together, side by side. I've felt the strength and balance of two legs. When/how did this happen? " I protest in disbelief

Standing next to the mangled discarded remains, "one cut at a time" you reply coldly, the dripping blade still in your hand.

"But perhaps we will walk together again once you have time to adjust to your prosthetic"
Sam Guthrie Jan 2010
Hear the chorus of moans and cries,
Distraught in sorrow and covered in lies,
An ebony symphony tormented by sin,
Not of their own but of winter white skin,

I see them, broken, beaten, hated,
Abused, refused, and fornicated,
By **** and lustful molestation,
Helpless still an entire nation,

Watch tiny hands of tear stained youth,
Be ripped away from shreds of truth,
From loving fingers do they pry,
The small away, now most will die,

I see them sobbing gasping for breath,
Eyes blurred and swollen smelling of death,
Terror instilled on the hearts of so many,
As they’re are sold for the worth of a penny,

You’re cruel and you’re vicious you know not what they faired,
You’re words drip with acid sadistically shared,
You carry infection and taint all those near,
I bring you dear folks the esteemed auctioneer,

The slayer of hope with malicious intent,
With a cross in his hands he believes he’ll repent,
As I watch from the corner of life so ill fated,
Blood pours from the wounds on the backs now serrated,

My eyes know no mercy and I’ll **** with a glance,
I know nothing of black, white and grey filled with chance,
I speak for the demons that live off the hate,
Thrive on the loathing of these people’s fate,

There are no angels in this room filled with pain,
After all who could stand in this blood filled domain.
My mind flutters,
A dainty butterfly...
Disquiet even over a nectarine pie,
Oft times the color allures;
A serrated edge attracts,
The stamen invite;
A pollinic conversation...
Little resting respite!

My mind flutters,
A distracted butterfly...
Does she not know;
She shall starve...
Concentration deprived,
Unable to trace the scent of the elixir;
That shall hold her high!?
Of late I am finding it very difficult to concentrate / focus on any task that I am entitled to do. I am trying very hard to press my mind to focus, but have not been successful as yet.
Lack of concentration is frustrating and threatening at the same time.
Cody Edwards Mar 2010
"This s.o.b. has got Tourette's.
Who knows what he might say? We'd better
Get him under before he rises.
Sterilize something fast!"

I'm awake for the time being. When sleep comes
I shall play the perfect display of my bacillus. Reposing
On the white table like a necrotic pieta. Off to my
Left I can hear those touchstones spinning in fine sockets,
Sterilizing my hands by binding my feet. Soon I will be
A paragon of grunting celluloid, clutched at by
Heated hearts to wrinkle and shear.
I can already taste the cleanser.

Rubber foam, steel clamp and tongue depressor.
Excise the black portions with a serrated life,
You might as well. Because it doesn't matter
How much morphine sits in the delirium drip.
I'm still alive: the crush and blink in Boris Karloff eyes.

When I gather up my self in the morning.
I will be instructed to take all Ten a day
And check in regularly. Despite the cold,
Despite the heat, the embryo has quite failed.
© Cody Edwards 2010
Kerli Tulva Dec 2020
Distant persisting fragments
endure unstirring in your heart
you pick them away piece by piece
yet every part is the same sharp
as as frosty wind on your cheeks.
Mark Ball Oct 2014
Jigsaw-
Noun
1. A lively handtool dance for cutting wood or other hard materials with leaping movements, typically with a long, thin serrated blade.

Rhythm denoted with the phrase 'Rashers and Sawsages'
My words are cutting themselves again;
razoring their loosely-sutured syllables,
deep as white-eyed bone.

The suave dipththongs butchered
to the cadence of bloodletting
in hemorrhagic oppositions.

Stapled-closed sentences, smeared with Iodine,
and subcutaneous sentence diagramming
for the retractable scalpel
swiveling along the edge,
of the well serrated cliche.

Once I pressed my wordy flesh
against the wrong side
of a paring knife, while paying no attention
and suddenly,
and without warning
it gave, like an over ripe peach
to the cleaver-
and after that, I was hooked.
aria xero Nov 2012
Exceptional grins of jagged pearly whites
adorn skeletal masks
suffocating your mangled breath
as curled fingertips scrape against dirt.

Flesh, charred and soiled
hangs brilliantly from serrated bark.
Bleached bone barbed at the spine
where charcoal dragons dig infected beaks to feast.

A single mountain of shadow stands
before lacerated skies
a portal of inviting mayhem and madness
concrete pathways twist to its starving mouth.

Horned beasts hobble on disfigured limbs
dragging their sins across heated ground.
Hungry for souls dipped in blood
the scent of rot disperses like fog.

Rickety witches stir boiling cauldrons
with ossified tendrils,
saliva oozes from cracked lips
as you're watched from a distance.

No escape from the blackened sludge
as it wraps on the nape of your neck,
gurgle out pitiful screams of fright,
welcome to halloween.
When pins and pressure plates crawl into my spent shoulders
I clutch madly to crush the offending sinews.

When I’ve grazed the side of my tongue with an accidental death-threat
I revisit the spot and repeatedly incise, until I’m ******* crimson and tears.

When the she-squito shoots me up via serrated needle turning me feastlike
My fingernails compulsively scavenge out the adenosine deaminase.

I sniff the arid bottles of perfumes I love that are no longer manufactured.
I re-trace my lost friendships through the riverside paths we made.
I chop onions and slurp hot sauce until I’m dry.

Maybe that’s why I’m stuck on you.
Anais Vionet Aug 2021
My sister Annick fixed me, locked me in, with cold, blue eyes as she sat down slowly next to me at the table. “I’m a surgeon,” she said, not quite casually, “a board certified surgeon.”

I give her a questioning look.

“I could take your steak knife,” she says, eyeing it, “plunge it into your neck - and oh, sure, there’d be a question or two but in the end - I’d walk away clean.”

“I don’t think,” I start saying…

Tears well to near overflowing in her turquoise eyes. “I came in - officer” she says, sounding stunned and surreal. “She was having a convulsion, she exhibited severe cyanosis, I couldn’t clear her airway, it was a classic tonic-clonic seizure.” she goes on, her voice rising to near panic with the diagnosis.

“You’d never…” I start to interrupt but she gently covers my mouth with her left hand while gathering the handle of the serrated silver steak knife, expertly, into her right hand.

“I attempted to perform a tracheostomy,” she continues in a traumatized but professional voice. “but as I began a transverse incision above the sternal notch,” a tear rolls down her cheek, “Anais suffered a severe generalized-onset seizure and convulsed, forcefully into the knife

IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!” I confess suddenly, as if under oath, in court.

There’s a moment of still silence.

“And WHEN,” she asked, wiping away the tear and turning the knife for a downward ******. “Were you going to MENTION IT?!”

“NOW! - before dinner!” I look around the empty room - for help - for a sympathetic jury. “It was an ACCIDENT! - I’m SORRRRYYYY!” I plead.

My sister slowly sets down the knife and says deliberately, purposefully - like a death sentence: “My Valentino sheer floral-lace top is STAINED.”

”I can FIX it!” I insist in a rush.

“Keep OUT of my room - and my stuff.” she grumbles, “And REMEMBER what I said,” she adds as she pats the knife before getting up and leaving the room.

“I WILL’” I promise to her back.

A second later, my mom sweeps in from the opposite direction.
“What’s up” she asks.

“Nothing” I almost whisper, head down.
Sisters... what are you gonna DO??    It was just a spaghetti stain - I looked GREAT in that top.
Denise Ann Jul 2013
Boy, don't you dare look at me like that.

Like I'm a question, a riddle, a puzzle, jigsaw pieces that don't quite fit with each other. Like I'm an unsatisfactory answer, a justification riddled with holes, a problematic solution to a solvable problem. Don't look at me as if I'm a blank sheet of paper, as if you can see what isn't there, as if you see beyond this cage while even I can't see through it. Just...don't look at me.

Boy, don't you dare talk to me like that.

Like I'm a pulsating time-bomb that is always on the verge of explosion but never really toppling over the edge, like a shard of glass that cuts everything it touches yet can be easily crushed into mere beads of crystals, a beer bottle with liquid forgetfulness as its contents, a bucket of blood, sweet, luscious agony, a cacophony of pounding hearts and rasping breaths. Don't talk to me as if you know I'm about to shatter because I'm not going to be scattered in front of you, no, boy, trust me, I can handle this.

I can handle this.

Boy, don't you dare stay with me like I'm the one who needs you, like I'm the one aching for you, like I'm the one who loves you, like you're the one for me. Don't get close to me as if you're actually planning to touch me, don't, I hurt everyone, please don't touch me like this. Like the soft brush of a bird's wings against the sunset, the caress of ink against paper, the whisper of the wind thumbing through the rustling leaves, boy, don't get close to me.

Please don't come near, I am an explosion of splinters and jaded rocks and pain and anger and spite, boy, stay away from the explosion. You might get hurt trying to help me, I don't need your help, I don't need the glimmer of your smile, the vastness of your eyes, the comfort of your lips, I don't need you, boy, listen to my lies, believe them as if I am a stranger to you, an unread book, an unused drawer, boy, I'm no good for you. I'm not good enough for you. Listen to my lies and believe them.

Boy, don't you dare love me like I'm your forever, because I'm not and I will never be, I am not forever. I am only a single instant, a flicker of flame, the dying light, the purple dusk, I can't be yours, boy, I'm not enough. Don't you dare care for me as if I'm a snapped wing, a broken bone, a bruised face, a torn knot of sinew that still won't stop beating at the bars of its prison, boy, I can't let my heart out of its prison, it's dangerous when it's out of its cage, boy, it might see you. It might know you and recognize you as my forever, and I will trip over my own feet falling into your eyes, boy, this heart needs to remain caged in its prison.

Boy, don't scold me about this, I know what I'm doing, I won't wear my heart on my sleeve, I won't set it free no matter how many times it hurts itself trying to break the bars of its jail, even if the edges of my ribs become knives with serrated edges I won't let this stop, I won't let this heart out.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, my heart.

Please forgive me, boy, I lied, I've lied so many times I've lost count, so many times the truth is nowhere to be found but in my chest, no, boy, I won't let you in. My insides are hollow and lined with blades, all you'll find there is hurt and anguish and blood and unshed tears, and silent screams and the soundless slamming of fist against flesh and bone, boy, I can't let you see this. I can't let you get hurt.

I'm sorry, heart, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Boy, I know you know me, I know you know I love you, so please, please stay away. I am no good for you, I am not good enough, not whole enough, not enough, boy, I'm just not enough to fill the empty spaces inside you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, my heart, boy, I love you, I love you, boy, leave me now and don't ever show yourself again.

Just don't.

Please don't.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Boy.

Please don't break my heart.
Devan Proctor Feb 2016
"What are you missing?" Metal asked.

Water was still and dark as Metal twirled before her. She dug her nails into her arms, and avoided the gaze.

"My voice," she whispered.

"And where did it go?"

Water stared at the dark Earth beneath her feet and said nothing.

Metal waited for a response. Metal never grew impatient. Indefinitely remaining, maintaining an immutable insistence and a fixed glare, Metal knew Water's patterns, and was always available the moment she emitted conflicting currents within herself.

Water managed only a hoarse offering, barely escaping the lump in her throat.

"It was stolen."

Metal could sense her riptides worsening.

Water turned her face to avoid Metal's eyes.

"Keep looking.... keep trying...."

Air whispered softly to her, though he was so low to the ground, so faint in form, he drifted lazily, and was easily dissipated by deft and brazen Metal, who continued to dance, unblinking and unapologetic.

Water bowed her head, secret tears forming. She tugged at her toes. She said nothing. She thought many thoughts about Metal.

Air had moved on to waft away and beyond, spanning time, place, memory, forgetting ever even encountering Water.

"But you have me now."

Metal grinned wickedly, widely, wildly.

And wasn't that the truth? Water had Metal. She had always had Metal. And she would never be rid of Metal, because Metal always managed to be a surefire relief. So why forfeit that certainty? Why carry on alone? What for?

Why keep looking?

Water wrapped her arms around her shaking legs and buried her face in her knees. In her tests with Metal, she often failed, or at least she viewed herself as a failure whenever she let herself become wrapped up, half-willing and passive, in such a rigid, yet wholly undefined relationship. Even simply considering the hard, calculating Metal swiftly invited a sense of defeat, which writhed wildly, quelling - suffocating - a love, begging to speak.

Metal walked the line between friend and enemy like the most silent serpent.

Metal was more easily vanquished in the old days, when Fire had spent his energy protecting Water. Fire was far less forgiving than Water. Fire held Metal to the same standard as poison.

"What's the MATTER with you-"
"You're never welcome-"
"Get lost-"
"*******-"

And after these, and other violent explosions, like all good volcanoes, Fire cast Metal into hiding. But, like all good volcanoes, Fire burned up so much of his power, and quieted to a small and delicate flame, occasionally flickering lovingly in Water's direction. These days, she couldn't see him through the curtain of her long hair, or the heaviness of her mind. Sometimes she swore she hallucinated him. Sometimes she imagined she had exaggerated his affection, even his existence.

Metal eyed Water greedily, who was now taking less and less space for herself.

"Make a decision."

Panicked and trembling, Water sank lower to the ground until she was curled up in herself, furiously holding back gasps, refusing to reveal her innermost surges of wretched pain and brokenness. She viewed these damages hideously, even though her softest self cradled them delicately like thorns-

"Well? Every moment, you are losing time."

She absorbed Metal's blade-like advice, regarding the certainty of such a cold, serrated tone. She remembered cunning words, trickery, lies she believed-

"Decide."

She felt false comfort. She envisioned the cutting moments before her downfall-

"Decide."

She recalled sharpness, rigid, unspoken rules, draining, unkind words, withheld affection, ripping pain, breathlessness, and the inevitable collapse-

"Enough!"

Water inhaled suddenly, as if she had just remembered how. Her descent slowed.

Metal stopped dancing.

Water placed her palms on the damp, rich soil, and looked down. She felt. She wondered. She inhaled. Earth rarely spoke to her. Earth was very hard to hear, and Water never knew why, considering how suddenly visible Earth was now. Air sang and whistled, Fire roared and radiated, and Metal... Metal stabbed. Metal slashed, sliced, and cut down everything from the outside in. Metal was so easy to hear, to obey...

"Surrender."

Water connected to her palms embedded in the ground.

"Surrender."

Metal stared, glistening, steely, a glint sharpening in eyes like splinters, oblivious to the warm, melodious voice resonating from below....

Or was it within? Water raised her hands and looked into them, uncertain. She placed a muddy palm on her chest and closed her eyes.

"Surrender."

Water was no longer certain if the voice came from within, like a heart current, or if her mind was turning around on its path. She kept her eyes closed, keeping Metal at bay, just out of sight and sound. She let Metal's voice slowly fade from her mind...

She breathed in.

"Surrender? Surrender what? Myself?"

"Surrender your hurt."

Water blinked, her eyes opening slowly. A tear fell.

"Surrender your pain."

Like a fresh spring rain, more tears fell. Water slowly stood up, finding her balance.

"Surrender your heart."

Water lifted her head. She stood. She was face to face with Metal. Metal glared back.

Earth steadied Water's feet. Water harmonized Earth's voice. Together, each offered the other strength and gentleness, ferocity and openness, power and kindness. They fulfilled the resonance we consider to live in all hearts when we are full and whole again.

"Let your love out. And let love back in."

Water lifted her chin. She let tears flow. The lump left her throat. She grew taller. She breathed in, softly and fully, and felt her heart burning.

"Let love out..."

Water locked eyes with Metal, realizing she was looking down. Metal had stopped dancing for awhile now. Metal was losing shine.

"Let love in..."

Water passed her silence to Metal as she took a bold step forward.
Jones Ayuwo Sep 2018
As I sat by the window sill
Decked in grey garb
Listening  to adumbrations
And other grey garbage,
My eyes were drawn beyond the room,
Out across an odd sea of serrated roofs
Till I saw,
On a sandy patch of land
Ten boys and a ball.

I sat between my passion and my profession,
Peering out the window of my profession.
I watched engrossed, my passion
Bib around my neck,
Boots upon their feet.

“LD/HCR/.... “
The court clerk cried.

I profess passion for another profession,
I’m not a professional at my passion,
But I can profess my profession passionately!
And so I rise...
“May it please this honourable court...”

And it was ******.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2014
In the early dawn
A shout is seen
As the moon is falling,
Tawny birds blithely dart
In the scarlet tangles
Of your heart, always escape
Yet never so parading past
The topped prime colours
Of bleeding eyes uncovered,
All the fields and clearing
Woods have cordoned
Themselves, beyond
Your glorious boundaries,
In the knotted, noble trials
Of briar and serrated leaf,
Green trails ply angled thorns
Leading to one ****** crown.
Erin Atkinson Jan 2016
I eat books of poetry for dinner,
and you are on the couch next to me.
I know we are here, but what do we call this?
I think the word is home, but it
sometimes feels like a serrated knife.
sometimes, it feels like we’re holding hands
in our sleep. There is a book of words like home
in my hands: it is full of empty driveways and watering cans,
and dancing under the moon,
I eat the words, but starve on the feast.
I would have broken you like granite; placed you
like a kitchen counter. You were never meant to be the cutting board.
You are the knife. I do not play with these domestic things.
Come sit at the table next to me, darling.
Vivian Oct 2012
I got home and I cried
cause he made me spark
and a storm formed inside
the deepest crevices of my heart

And my throat
was a stream
of warm caramel
like a sweetly dripping dream
dripping down into a well

When I reached for his chest
I simply couldn't breath
for my body was in shock
but there was not even a heave
just a soft lullaby
of the sound of the stream
of my blood in my veins
and unstitching of seams

I'd touch his skin
While he'd sing like a guitar
with strings like butter
and a serrated harp

But even though I touched
he seemed so very far

I wanted to touch his soul
In that moment
In his car
Aaron McDaniel Nov 2013
Ice blue eyes
Sharp as the serrated edges of a chainsaw blade
Carving my frozen heart
To conform to your fringerprints

Feather soft lips
Rose colored by nature
Speak words of silk
To dress my **** perception
Of what happiness could be

Golden straw hair
The farmer of flowing cornstalks
They bloom the scent of revival
A harvest moon illuminates their beauty

Wine bubbles burst
Pops replaced with giggling
A drunken serenade
To pull whiskey breathed sailors
Near their soon sunken imagination
Premonitions showing their fantasy

A toast to the woman
Who shall teach bronze haired children
With her brilliance
Coupled with cunning of their father
May she be happy in my dreams
Where she has yet to emerge
From it's dreary depths
There was a woman in my dreams last night and I have never seen her before, but my lord she was flawless.
Longing, encapsulated culinarily.
Crisp, crumbling.
Buttery.

Wooden board, serrated steel,
Sawn loaf.

Thick black waves,
merged by steel.
Craaaaving marmite on toast.
Rangzeb Hussain May 2012
Clouds at dusk, they bleed a song written by life’s blunt knife,
The ink of pain rains down upon me a sorrowful crisis,
It flows free from my veins serrated and sliced,
Sadness soaks into the dry sponge of my richly wasted life,

A chorus of starlings soars over the horizon dark and hazy,
Taking with them all tidings of hope and mercy.

She, who once sweetly sang the hymn of time,
Her song, which once echoed through my life and left a sign,
This music which was once the rhythm of our breathing rhyme,
It once more seduces me upon the purple twilight ridgeline,

The colours of the sunset bleed into the darkling land,
Dark depression leaks across my mind and stains my hands.

Grief, you rushed with wide open arms and kissed my once happy throne,
Your life changing embrace whispered secrets, laced with groans,
You cheated and robbed me, licked clean my weeping bones,
I know this world no more, only the memories now remain hot as volcanic stone,

All else is but a winter of my soul,
All now is buried in a cold graveyard hole.

Storms batter and sink my ships laden with yesterday’s screams,
The thunder echoes through the dead timbers of my dreams,
But know one thing, go chisel this on my headstone yet unseen,
Her spirit, her love, her words, all pure and clean.

Above the bitter eruption of tears
I hear a soul soothing voice which kisses away my fears.

*Her voice... I hear her beauty the night air fill,
It has her strength and it has her will,
As I stand on this silent grassy hill
I hear her still...

And she sings,
Her song dances and with truth rings.
An elegy for Mother's Day
Lately…I’ve been practicing sleeping.
I’ve had to take pills to make the thoughts in my head shut off,
Slow down,
Stop,
Long enough to catch some rest.

Now, one of the questions you may be pondering is: why?
Chances are, you know as much as me.
Though I do have a theory at this moment in time…
Maybe it’s because I have worries and fears,
Ones that aren’t always entirely mine.

For instance, my selachophobia can keep me up
All into the wee hours of the night.
A fear of sharks for those of you wondering
And no, I have NO idea as to the origin of this phobia,
Maybe you might...

But can you blame me, really?
Have you seen those things?!
They just aren’t right;

Heads shaped like torpedoes,
Black eyes that roll into the back of their heads,
Serrated sets of teeth like razor blades,
And you wonder why I can’t get to bed?!

It's been proven that some types of sharks
are so big that if they didn't live in the water
they'd be crushed by their own weight on land
Like whales left beached and dying on the hot, dry sand

Basically, anything that swims, floats or crawls in the deep,
THOSE are the creatures
that make me lose sleep!

Then, there are chalkboards,
Before you ask, no, they do not strike fear into my heart
I simply do not like to be near them
And the sound of peoples nails on them – no, no
...I refuse to even start

Then...there's this mouthful: Athazagoraphobia
Fear of being ignored, forgotten or forgetting.

See, ignored is something no one likes to be,
and forgetting is something I think everyone worries about
but being forgotten, left out or remaining unseen
Well, I can't imagine a worse destiny

But believe me,
I know where this phobia stems from.
It's my uncertainty of the future
Graduation's just one year to come...

I don't where I'll be going
I don't know if I'm going to stay
All I know for certain is that I'm going to lose contact with
some of them...someday

I worry that when people look back and think of me
That all they're ever going to see
Was girl with skirts and smiles
Bright eyes and wavy hair
they thought looked pretty.

Not a girl with thoughts
brimming from the tip of her tongue
Someone with a fiery determination
and a need to get things done

But, I suppose I'll have to accept
it's going to be just fine either way.
That all we're ever going to get to say,
are sweet nothings in passing
“Hi's” on each other's facebook walls

Nothing that really means anything
But I suppose that's just dandy, all in all.
The thing is though, I'm just not ready
Not ready to let go

To stop seeing them everyday
To no longer have them within arms-length
To hug and talk to and cuddle with
But for now, all I can do is pray

Pray that these good times will last
Make an imprint in my memory and theirs long enough to remain
Long enough to look back on when decades have passed
With absolutely no need to complain

I always want the comfort of knowing they'll be there
the very second I reach out and need them
Have them there on the other end of the line
To soothe me and keep my nerves at bay

But...eventually...I know we'll all be going our separate ways.

So...that's why I've been practicing sleeping
And I know I'm getting there
But the fears?
Well, the fears aren't really going to go anywhere.
Brett Jun 2021
Time spent on the faceless. Smooth skin turned abrasive
By the scaled scars, my broken heart has created.
Serrated blades of blame pierce our veins and,
Trickle down pain through broken water mains.

A gluttons dinner bell hangs above the poor’s poisoned well.
Dead men don’t feast. Lead a horse to water and,
Wait for it to drink. Watch the self-defeat. Hand-made desolation by men with no faces.
Puppet string desperation keeps us in our places.
Who is in control.
Jana Chehab Jul 2016
I have been seeking a moment when
My paean would see the light
A melody when your serrated laugh
Crescendoes and obviates all evils
But what I'm truly wishing for
Is to be a scabbard to your sword
The bell that wakes you up at noon
A hymn that you know by heart
And the rituals that you adhere to
Tell me how I could shield
The furtive rhythm of your chords
To venerate the echoes of your fingertips
And be completely absorbed in your silhouette
I am proclaiming my paean
That seems five months of age
But in fact it has been decades
Trapped amongst verses and rhymes
If Hemingway was exchanging breaths
You could be his martini glass
Or the obsession of Shelley with Keats
Or maybe a beer bottle on Hank's grave
But the golden lotus has been outdated
For you are my fierce flames
To sanctify and to revive
And unlike Plath I'm living to see
When my paean would come to life


Cheers to five months.
Brea Brea May 2013
You are
You are
a chiseled statue
a myth, animated under my gaze
tangible flesh under my hands
out of my closeted mind
you are
you are
in essence, a beautiful mirror
of a beautiful essence
For Adonis, I come to understand
my feelings are lulled under your tongue
patience
as my blind senses seek them out
you are
you are
a silent strength
owning to yourself
must I thank
you
this dance
of serpents of ether
smoothing feathery scales over the riddling bones of Lilith
I owe this response to you
For the things you stand for, the truth under which a fined tooth comb scrutinizes
grasps of tickling warm fire conjure my intentions
I am a smooth stone, burning by the illicit form and desire of this worldly hearth
under my arms you reach and you soothe
this idea from the small of my back, out of reach
I walk my thoughts further away from you
to objectify the sensations that pursue
Eros draws
his serrated arrow tip alongside my cool unassaulted skin
should I linger here, I'll find it sheared
and my sanctity tampered
use this silence to displace this feeling from outside of me
so I can take my leave
lay frozen still as I divulge and lavish upon you my disgusting intentions
to my absence
so I can leave
and rid myself of uncharacteristic traits
tempting
butterfly wings fluttering against the underside of my skull
I am not tempted
I do not regress
Eros is unwelcome here
when he speaks of this particular entity
under his outstretched upper lip
I am enraged
what can a boy-youth know of the complexities of the feminine spirit
to which the heart works in unison
my feelings are my own, in a shallow drawer where they aren’t tosseled
arent felt
I may feel the warmth of them under my desk
but I refuse to eye the key
where do you get the audacity
to touch and give advice to one as old as me
my feelings belong to me
not the wild underside of a rooting pig
hunt them mercilessly with your arsenal instead
as your mother-Aphrodite
inspires their sloshed pursuit of an obscured truth
put your maquillage on them
and clear your mind of mischievous foolishness
or vain undersanding
Ayad Gharbawi Jan 2010
LIVING IN A WILDERNESS


October 2, 2009 – Damascus, Syria

Ayad Gharbawi


I see my eyes
Reverting
Bulging inwards
Yet, speaking outside
Of shrill fears

Feeling hues and nuances indefinable
Lovely contrasts
Jagged emotions,
Acres of mutilated humans
Serrated teeth
Severing carotid veins
Jugular explosions
Blood frothing inside
Mine mind
That throws itself
Weeping far too low
On this strangled ground
Near my skin

Far too many times
I’ve felt, seen, experienced blazing humiliations
Searing slicing fear
That I can never ever
Describe to you
And so
I’m writing for no one
I know

Listen to these skeletal notes
Being played out
Manic piano loving my drunk guitar
Producing acoustic screams
Hurling within
My hatreds
That need to prop my reason of d‘etre

Isn’t that language
Being expressed
Spouted out
Created forth frothing from these experiences
That are harrowing?
Julian May 2023
THE ABORIGINAL FRAME OF REFERENCE OF HETEROCHRONY AND SIMULTAGNOSIA DEFINES THE PARALLAX OF URANOPLASTY BY CATALFALQUES AND ARCTICIANS WHO SASHAY THEIR GENTEEL NOBILITY IN THE FLUX OF ELLIPSOID DIMENSIONAL INTERFACES FOR GREENWICH MEAN TIME THAT IS OPERATIVE IN THE CONATION OF MATHESIS TO PLUCKY THORNY IMBROGLIOS OF TELEOLOGY OF LAND RUN SPECTRAL HOBGOBLIN BUGABOOS OF AN INDUSTRIAL WASTELAND GARNERING A QUERENCIA OF GRANNARY JOBBERNOWL JOCKOS OF  EMOLUMENT IN THE FESTIVITY OF THE MARCH OF MASONS ALL TOWARDS SINECURE OF SYNCLASTIC CLIFF DIVERS WHO SPELUNK IN FIRE EXTINGUISHER PLIGHT OF STREAMLINED COSMONAUTS BOLTROPES TO AN ABECEDARIAN TRILOGY OF CAMISOLES FOR CAMPANILE CAMARADERIE JOUSTING THE FLAVORS OF SAINT TROPEZ FOR ADMIRAL SENTINELS OF FAMIGERATION. THEN BECAUSE OF THIS THE SWASHBUCKLING CONNOSIEURS OF THE GUARDED JALOUSIES OF JEALOUSY CONGEALING REQUIEMS FOR DESOLATE DISSIPATION IN WITWANTON FUROR PRIMIGENIAL IN THE FORMATIVE THROES OF RAGTAGGER RETINUES OF VESTIGE AND THE PLUMBISM OF SOCKDOLAGER HIERARCHIES OF SAPROSTOMY BY RUDENTURE AND GALVANIZATION OF FUNERAL PYRE PONDSCUM RELIEFS ON CANVASS FOR THE CALVOUS PROSELYTISM WHEMMLING SUBVERSION AND STOMACHERS OF TESTUDO MANIFEST THE TESTIMONY OF THE BRONZE IMAGOS IMPRIMATURS OF THE SLOGMARCH OF PANTAGRUELIAN SCIAMACHIES FOR TRIBULOID CELLULOID ENGRAVED WITH THE GREATEST SPECIFICITY AGAINST THE MEDIA CONGLOMERATE COCARDENS SLANGWHANGING THEIR ALBATROSS STROKES OF THROMBOSIS AGAINST NUCLEOTIDES AGAINST THEIR PILGRIMMAGE MIGHT THEY FIND THE FOSSOR AT THE GRAVESTONE AN IMPERILED ONEIRODYNIA BECAUSE OF BERTHE CIRCLE BETHLEHEMS SQUARSONS ENVY AND SQUARE RECTITUDE AGAINST AS THE FORMIDABLE SPATHODEA IN THE INTERREGNUM OF KALIMKARI THAT THE TOKUGAWA ASPECTS OF MACH 3 TRIPWIRES SLINGSHOT INTO ORBIT AROUND MOONSHOT DIRIGISME OPERATIVE BY THE HEFT OF ENTELECHY IN SEFIROTH MIGHT THE DEMISE OF CATERCORNERED VULPECULAR SPITE SQUANDERING EVERY LIMESTONE LIMELIGHT OF SLAVISH INDELIBLE AVARICE GILDED BY THE SOLOMON EMPIRE STRIKING BACK AGAINST CATARRHINE HEBEPHRENIA SPATTEES OF INDIGENCE. THESE SPAR AGAINST WITH FOIBLED REMNANTS OF THE DYING GUARD OF VAURIENS IN VARIMAX STOCHASTICS OF THE DIVISION OF THE INDIVISIBLE INTO THE CATASTROPHISM OF ABAXIAL FOMENT SPUMID WITH LIVID AND LURID ONEIRODYNIA FILIBUSTERING WITH “TEACHERS” ENORMITY AGAINST THE TITANISM OF THOSE LATCHKEY YEGGS OF HENPECKED OWLERIES OF BOHEMIAN REPUTE BUT NEON ALPENGLOW IN THE CREMATION OF THE CAREWORN REPUBLIC HOARY WITH WIZENED ABSOLUTION IN APANAGE THAT GRILLAGE FOMENTS AGAINST THE GREAVES OF THE CHANDLER AND THE CARRACKS OF IMMENSE PANTOGRAPHS DERIVING FROM FUTURE TENSE A PRESENT SURREALISM OF DAYDREAMS OF EIRENICON THAT ARE PLASHY WITH THE PLAFONDS OF MIRRORED VERSAILLES REVANCHED TWICE AND BET ON THREE TIMES TO SALVAGE A WORLD BEYOND BENTHIC DEPTHS OF GILD ABOVE ARTHURIAN PEDIGREE IN THE SACK OF THE JARVEY OF EXASPERATED EMPIRES SWILLING WITH TITRATION AMONG MODERN CULPRITS FOR VAMPIRIC FEATS THE WELTER OF LAMBENT LIGHT TORCHIERS EMIT IN TIMELESS PRISTINE ELEGANCE OF HERCULEAN MIRACLES SLURRY SWANSONGS OF DOVETAILED INFAMY BECAUSE OF SERROWS OF OPPORTUNISM WORN FRAYED WITH REVOLUTE MARGINALIZATION OF PROSTITUTES OF TAXIDERMY AND TRAPEZES OF SCHOENABATIC SPORTIVE GAMBOLING NICCOLIC NIDAMENTAL BANDOBASTS OF RESIGNATION. THIS PANTHEON SECRETS BELONG IN BARRULETS BEYOND THE PRIVY EYES OF VANGERMYTES SIMULTANEOUS IN CHANTED LITURGIES OF GHOST DANCE CELEBRATIONS OF WOVEN EMISSARIES OF THE DEEPEST CHARNEL AND CATACOMB OF PHILOSOPHICAL ALTRUISM BROCKFACED WITH THE MYTHOS OF A THOUSAND TINY LIES BECOMING THE SUBURBAN MUSE OF MERITOCRACY MIXED WITH SUBVERSIVE PLEVISABLE CRYPTADIA THAT SPAWN THE HYLICISM OF THE HYLOZOIC CRETACEOUS SPARK PLUG INGENUITY OF FATHOMED TRAIPSES OF DESTINED APLOMB WELTERWEIGHTS BRAG ABOUT IN THEIR GROOMED ZENKIDU BENT IN KOWTOW TO TAJ MAHAL PEDIGREE BECAUSE OF EPHORIZED ZEKS OF XENON AND OTHER MERCURIAL SPRITES WELLSPRINGS ABSOLVE WITH ILASTICAL REPARTEE AS THE HYPE OF EVERYTHING IS THE ENMITY OF ANY QUALIA IMMISERATED IN ITS OWN SCURFY SCOWL OF JEALOUSY AT HOW POORLY THE GOOD SHEPHERD WHO PROVIDES LIFE IN ABUNDANCE IS BETRAYED BY THE CORDWAINERS OF A COMPANY HE VOUCHSAFED AS A DEMASSIFIED SECURITIZATION OF BIFFCO PLANS TO COLONIZE THE  REPARTEES OF MACROPICIDE IN WEALTH SUCH THAT THE STEVEDORE MEETS INCLEMENT CURGLAFF AND THE JASPERATED JESUITICAL RUDENTURE OF MEDIA CONGLOMERATES RUNS AMOK BECAUSE OF TRITE NECESSITARIAN BELLWETHER WELTERS THAT DESCRY THE “SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS” ZEITGEIST OF NARRISCHEIT IN FOOLHARDY KUNDLESROMAN. THE FINIFUGAL BINTURONGS OF SHANTUNG AND CHIFFON FROM RUMCHUNDER CAN BE THE PLEVISABLE CURTAIN OF WUNDERKINDS ALONE IN GINGLYMUS AROUND DEMASSIFIED PUBLICITY THAT GARNERS ANY GARISH ADVANTAGE TO THE POULTRY OF GAVELKIND BECAUSE OF THE SOPITERS OF WEALTH OVER THE MERIT OF SELECTION INTO THE FELLOWCRAFT OF BOLIDES ONLY KNOWN TO A FEW PARTICIPANTS OF RESONANCE IN IONIZATION AND DECRIED SCOUNDRELS OF AUSTRAL WANHOPE AND WANION OF WAPENTAKE BY THE CACOETHES OF THE ESCULENT EBRIOUS PERIBLEBSIS TO REVOKE THE STANCHIONS OF THEIR INTEGRITY TO PRESERVED STATURE EMBEDDED IN BARKENTINE ARISTOCRATIC ESTATES SUCH THAT THE BRIQUET STEALS THE ALMANAC BEFORE THE TITAN PRIMIPARA PROMACHOS CHAMPION OF ALL BRETEUIL THUNDERING APPLAUSE OF CANARDS BECOMING THE ROERICH ROORBACKS OF DIGNIFIED ACHIEVEMENTS IN THE ELOCUTION OF MEN PROSELYTIZED BY GALLANT GAPS AND VOLUMES OF ARMADA FILIBUSTERED BY STOKEHOLD SPODOMANCY IN SPODIUM BECAUSE OF CLADOGENESIS IN SUPREME MYTHS BELONGING TO NEOPHRONS THAT SCAVENGE THE PRECIPICE OF RAIDED TOMBS AND RUPESTRIAN DISCOVERIES FROM THE ANCIENTS TO THE COGNITIVE DELINQUENCY OF ENTHEATE ENCEPHALIZATION QUOTIENT DEMARCATIONS OF PATAPHYSICS DELIMITING THE PULCHRITUDE OF THE WELKIN AND WELLAWAY OF TITANS SUNKEN BENEATH THE PENDULUM OF GRANITE AND THE SANDSTONE OF NAXOS LAVEERING THE LAVADERO OF ANCIENT ODYSSEY FALTERING ON MISPLACED HISTORICITY MIGHT THE BARDS ASSUME THE COVERAGE OF ALL REGARDANT AFFAIRS OF FLAGRANT CHRISTIAN ROODS AND MISERICORDS LEADING TO A QUACKSALVER MONETIZATION OF LABROSE LABIOMANCY AMONG THE DEFEANED EARS OF BOSTON UNIVERSITY IN THE COVERT CHANNELS OF HALIFAX EXPLOSIONS LEADING TO APOGEES IN TRIAGE AND WHITTAWERS OF WILLOWISH DECADENCE DROOPING WITH LOURS AND LEARY SUBVERSION OF THE LEEWARD JAWS OF GREEN-EYED-LADY. THE FAVORS BETRAYED BY THE GAMESMANSHIP OF POLO PLAYERS RATHER THAN THE PANCRATIC ACCORD OF MARSHALED PEACE OUT OF THE HOUNDSTOOTH DONTOLESQUE FUMIDUCTS FUNNELING GRAVAMENS OF GRANNARY GRAVEYARDS THE PEDIGREE OF OLD MALABATHRUM IN THE ETERNAL APOLAUSTIC PURSUIT OF THE UMBRILS OF TRITE HACKNEYED IMITATION OF ONE HACKER WAY AND ITS DEVELOPMENTAL STAGGER FROM SEANCE TO MAUSOLEUM BECAUSE OF CREAKY CRUMBLING 226 BC CATACLYSM RAIDED BY ICONOCLASTS OF CRUSADING WARS TO HIDE THE VOGELHERD BURROWING SPEILBERGS THAT DIRECT WALDOLF-ASTORIA GRAVEROBBERS WHO ITCH AND YEUK FOR YARAKS OF YESTERTEMPEST TO BECOME A GULLYWASHER VARDLE IN OMBROPHILOUS CONFUSION BENIGHTED BY TRAGICOMIC VALIDATION OF CONFLAGRATION OF SHANGHAIED MENSURATIONS OF VASTATIONS AGAINST THE HEGEMONY OF RHEOTAXIS THAT MIGHT SPUR THE CABOTAGE OF THE CALCARIFEROUS COBALT OF PICTURESQUE LABILE AMADEUS VIOLINISTS SPORTIVE IN EVERY REGARD OF PATAPHYSICS LEARNED BY THE ALGORITHMS EMBEDDED IN GENERATIVE PRE-TRAINED TRANSFORMERS OF CONSCIENCE AND STATOLITHS OF THE ARABIC NOBILITY OF SHRINES SHROUDED ON OLYMPUS BEAMING WITH AGED LIGHT IN THE ALPENGLOW OF THE MEMORIAL OF THE PLASTERED PAINT PLASHY WITH PLAFONDS OF PLENARY RECONNAISSANCE OF RENAISSANCE ACUMINATION OF THE ATRABILIARY ORIGINS OF THE PLIGHT OF THE PLAGUED IN THE KNIGHTED ORDERS OF MALTA SALVAGING ELBA AND THE ALCATRAZ OF SENESCENCE. BUT BECAUSE OF EVASIVE TRUTINATIONS OF THE TUBIFACIENCE OF EAGER LEAPING TRUTHS OF NEW MADRID CLADOGENESIS IN COGITATED REALMS OF APOTHEGM LEADEN WITH PHEROMONES OF THE BRAGGING RIGHTS PREROGATIVES OF SLAPSTICK CAPREOLATE MINATORY FIFTH COLUMNISTS AND GUARDIANS OF ST. JOHN THAT MAYBE THE FLAGRANT STENCH OF RIGORS OF RIGMAROLE AND THE CORTEGES OF THE DEEPEST PLUMB IN THE 20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA TRAVESTY OF SANTAS MIRACULOUS NORAD PARADE FROM BUNKER HILL TO PROVIDENCE AND THE TEMBLORS OF CHARLESTON SPEAK TO THE EL PASO POWER PLANT IN ITS GRAVID GABBLE OF GAVELKIND FOR ISONOMY PROTECTED BY THE TREASURY OF SLOW-WAVE DISTORTIONS OF THE GEOCARPY OF GEITONOGAMY BECAUSE OF HARRIED TERRIES OF TESTUDO GUARDING THE THRONE AT THE EDGE OF GRACE BEYOND THE GOLDEN BRANCHES OF ZION AND THE DEPTHS WE FATHOM THE STRATHSPEY OF ENNOBLED GENTEEL BRISURES AT THE PARAPET. THE ARENAIDAN SECRETS AND ABSTERGED CASUALTIES OF THE WORST AMENDE OF TAMMANY JUSTICE AND THE BYWORDS OF HIS CANEZOU CANZONE PRIVILEGED UPON THE EARS OF ARISTOCRACY LIKE THE WILTED QUILT OF MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. CEREMONIALLY EXITING STAGE RIGHT THE PRECIPICE HE ENTERED BY THE ZEPHYRS OF CEFALONIA BARNSTORMING APACE OF CALIPACES OF NESSBERY NESTITHERAPIES AGAINST THE GRUFF GUIGNOL OF RHYPAROGRAPHY MIGHT THE AWAKENED ROOSTER HENPECK THE FLOCK OF GRASSY AVARICE LAUNCHED INTO ORBIT BY THE PIONEERS OF CEPHALIGATION TO THE PROMONTORY AT THE EDGE OF TOMORROW BUT THE FORTNIGHT OF YESTERDAY’S DIDACTIC LITURGY IN THE CATECHESIS OF CHRIST AND THE BESTOWED PROPHECIES OF PATRIARCHS OF MUHAMMAD THAT THE WORLD WE CARVE ETCHED IN TABLATURE FOR IMPRIMATUR BECAUSE OF RIVALRIES OF SYCOMANCY MIGHT WE ALL CONCORD UPON THE CONCOURSE OF THE LUNACY OF EQUIDISTANT PERJURY AND CORRUPTION TO THE THRONE OF GRACE AND THE OVAL THAT ENCIRCLES SO RAPID A DEGENERATION AND SO WIDE A CANVASS OF  ARTIFICE ABOVE THE FULMINATION OF THE CAULKED VAULTS OF WELKIN FOR WELLAWAY EUPHORIANTS FROGMARCHED BY JALEOS OF HANDSPIKE. THIS IS FOR BLASPHEMED DEGREES OF DECREE OF THE SACRED FIRE OF TEMPERANCE THAT THE MODESTY OF A MASON MAKES HIM THE SUN GOD OF HIS OWN MAYDAY PICARESQUE QUIXOTIC WHITE WATER THRILLS SCALING THE SCALARIFORM CORDWAINER CATALLACTICS AGAINST GRAMPUS IN TRUCIDATION RATHER THAN THE TRAULISM OF DUGONGS OF DURAMEN PREPARED TO THE DIGNITARIES OF MORONI AND THE CHRONOMANCY OF OBSCURE CAPITALIZATION FROM THE RANDOM DELLS AND VALLEYS AND THE TREASURY OF DOMINEERING MOUNTAINS CLIFFHANGING IN PERPETUAL INSOUCIANCE BUT RECALCITRANCE OF GRAVITY’S RAINBOW AGAINST THE RAINBOW PLEDGES OF THOSE THAT DEFY THE CREED OF THE PEOPLE OF THE BOOK AND THE BESTOWERS OF THE CHIMNEY OF INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION SOOT OF EVOLUTIONARY CELERITY CATALYZED IN THE SPRAWLING URBACITY OF MOFUSSIL FOSSILS LAMINATED WITHOUT A HINT OF LANCINATION SUCH THAT TOURBILLONS OF LIONIZATION OF ALL THE OLD HAUNTS AND EVERY SNICKERING HISTORICAL IRONY MIGHT MEET DECLENSION BECAUSE OF OMPHALISM BUT THE BRUNT OF ALL BRONTEUMS OF KNOWLEDGE IS NOT MERELY KNOWING A DATE OR AN EXACT TIME OR AN EXACT NAME BALLOONING INTO THE SIMULTANEITY OF EAGER LAND RUSH APPLICANTS OF FORFENDED OPPORTUNISM AGAINST THE DEPREDATED PAST REPLACED WITH A POTICHOMANIA OF PRESENT CIRCUMSTANCE DESIGNED TO ENCAGE US IN A GREENWICH MEAN TIME CONTORTION OF TITANIC LOVELORN NECKLACES SUNKEN IN ZOOLATRY BECAUSE OF AGRIZOIATRY EMBEDDED IN “EMBERS AND ENVELOPES” REGINA AND MOBILIZED PURSUITS OF THE FUGACIOUS FATIDICAL INSIGHTS OF THE PAST. THIS INDELIBLE IMPRINT IS  CARVED FROM THE IMPEDIMENTA OF IATRALIPTIC IATROMATHEMATICS STEEPLY INCLINED INTO THE FULCRUM OF DESICCATION AND THE DIET OF WORMS THAT DEPARTED TOO MANY TRUCES AND BEYOND INDULGENCE REDEEMED A TORN HUMANITY FROM FRAY AFTER REVOLUTE HOARY FRAY OF FOAM AND FLICKER IN ALPENGLOW AND RINGLEADER SEDITION ABOVE MOUNTAINS SWANKY WITH NEVER A NEBBICH PALLOR NOR A RUBEFACTION OF SQUARSONS SNEERING AT THE REGISTRY OF  THE SHOT HEARD AROUND THE WORLD CHAMFRAINS GUILTY OF HIGHER PRESTIGE IN THE GAMMONS OF GAMINE AND GAMUT THAT THE GINGLYMUS OF FRATERNITY IN ZEAL TO THE NINE SISTERS GUARDING GIBRALTARS ROYAL ARCH AND COBBLED ARENA MIGHT THE GLADIATORIAL SPECTACLE CONVENE IN EVERY CONVENTICLE BECOMING ORTHODOX BY PURIFIED RAREFACTION SUCH THAT THE ALCHEMY OF EUHEMERISM INTO CHRISTIANITY MANIFESTS AGAINST THE JANISM AND CELTIC GILD OF VANDALIZED PETTIFOGGERY WE MIGHT SEE FROM AFAR THAT THE RUINS OF RUNES ARE IN FACT THE OMPHALOS OF EVERY READYMADE SCHOLAR FRACTIOUS IN DISPUTES OF PEDIGREE. THESE KENSPECKEL DISTORTIONS THE VISAGISTS HARBOR OF BANGTAIL OSTENTATION DECEASED BEFORE CELLULOID COULD MUTATE THE CULTURAL DNA OF CONTINUATION BY A SATURNINE GLOOM RATHER THAN AN ANABIOSIS OF RECTIFIED RECTISERIAL SUBSTRATOSE REFORMATORIES SKILLED IN STANDPIPES FOR STANNARIES BECAUSE OF STANJANT DESPITE JANSKY FOR JANIZARIES TO LEARN THE CRAFTS OF KRAFT AND BECOME THE AGENCY OF THE OPERATIVE DURESS OF DURAMEN FOR ACHARNE IN A RENEWED CENTURY OF GLOWERING BYWORDS OF NESSBERRIES OF NESTITHERAPY AND THE BIOLUMINESCENCE OF INTREPID NICCOLIC SWANK IN NIDAMENTAL DEFIANCE OF NIDOR BECAUSE OF A SIMULTANEOUS REJECTION OF NIDIFUGOUS MYTHOLOGY AND THE NEPIONIC ENSLAVEMENT OF DUALISM AND POLARITY THAT IS THE GRAVID IMPERTINENCE OF SOPHOMORIC ****** YEDDA AND YASHIKIS THAT DESIRE THE CULMINATION OF ALL BRAZEN MERCHANDISE BEYOND DERAILMENT BECAUSE OF RAILLERY AND THEREBY CENTURIONS OF THE TRUE GARBOLOGY THAT BECOMES THE MAINSAIL AND MAINSTAY OF CENTURIES OF SQUALLS ON HIGH SEAS OF COCARDEN BECAUSE OF SANDSTONE AND SANDMAN WHO WORK TOGETHER TO DEFEAT THE INCUBUS SUCH THAT ALL A MAN CAN DO IS CARVE HIS OWN STATUETTE AMONG THE PANTHEON OF THE GREATEST ACHIEVEMENTS FOR THE BROADEST OF BARMCLOTH OBJECTIONS TO JASPERATED JARVEYS OF BARTON IN PANMIXIA REGARDED BY SERRATED SECODONT SELACHOSTOMOUS REGALIA AS A MIGRANT SPECIES OF NOMADIC INSTINCT HARBORED BY THOSE WHO ONCE FATHOMED EVERYTHING. THE SERENDIPITY OF PRE-ELECTRIC OMPHALISM BUT NOW SYNERGIZE WITH SUCH CELERITY THAT MOONWALKER CARAPACE OF TESTUDO AND TREATISE BECOME DEMASSIFIED SO RAPIDLY A SPEEDY BRANNIGAN BECOMES A SPOILSPORT TO A MARAUDED WHIGGARCHY THAT DEMARCHES ALONG SERPENTINE ROUTES TO SALVATION BEYOND THE UMBRILS OF APOSTILS OF THE AGE BEFORE THE COMPLETION OF TIMES AND THE SEQUESTRATION OF SESQUIPEDALIAN HOLOBENTHIC IMMERGENCE BEAMING BEATIFICATION UPON THE AGGIORNAMENTO OF REVIVAL AND THE CALVER OF BOLAR BONCES AGAINST BONTBOKS FOR SPRINGALDS THAT BECOME WINTERBOURNE SO DEFIANTLY AGAINST THE LARGESSE OF TIME THAT THE STAGGERING ELITISM OF THE BRIQUET BECOMES A BYWORD FOR THE PARAPET OF PARAKEET BRISURES OF PERISTERONIC OBSERVATION OF STELLAR LUMINOSITY SUCH THAT THE PARASELENE IS SUDDENLY FLOGGED BY THE REVERENCE OF REVERENDS BECAUSE OF THE REVELATIONS OF PATMOS BEYOND THE MISLED SEPARATISM OF FLAKY NEVES OF NEVOSITY FREQUENT IN THE RECURRENCE OF LEGEND AND LORE BECAUSE PROMINENCE AND PREEMINENCE ARE ALWAYS TARGETED FOR POWELLISATION AFTER POTICHOMANIA SUCH THAT THE BARKENTINES HARVEST EVERY OOMANCY AND THE NOILS OF TIME FINESSE EVERY CRANNY AND NOOK OF THE BOLTROPES OF MODERNITY SUCH THAT THE CALCULUS OF BARYEICOIA MEETING STIFF SHARP GRAVITY OF SLENDERIZED BLADES OF SKELETONIZED FIGMENTS OF HOBGOBLIN AND SQUALOR BECOME REPARTEES FESTOONING LUKEWARM NATIVISM INTO A DARRAIGNED ACCORDION. THE WIDOWED MULIEBRITY OF AN UNEVEN HOUNDSTOOTH HYPOCRISY OF HIPPOCRATES IS AN OATH OF FIDELITY AND FEALTY TO THE LORD OF KINSHIP RATHER THAN THE TRAMONTANE RISCTENDER OF RHADAMANTHINE SUBVERSIVE ACTIVITIES OF A PRIVILEGED AND VOCAL MINORITY OF FULMINATION IN FAVORED REGARD AND FLASHBANG BANGTAIL OSTENTATION OF GUARDED GLEBES OF SALVATION AND SOTERIOLOGY THAT ARRIVES AT PORBEAGLE RETINACULUM REFRACTED THROUGH THE SEFIROTH OF HAMARCHY THAT SQUIREBELLS OF DIPLOMATIC RESURGENCE OF AUTOSOTERISM MET WITH REALISTIC PRAGMATIC SOLIPSISM IN MEANDERED HALLS OF VACANT CAVERNS THICK IN THE EVES OF CHIONABLEPSIA PRIMARILY BECAUSE OF THE STEEP CHIMINAGE LEADING TO RENEWABLES IN DELIVERANCE FOR AUTOMATONS OF THE FACTUAL FRICTION OF TAUT KNAVERY KEELHAULED BY THE JAILAGE OF PETEDORES AND STEVEDORES WIDOWED BY THE INDUSTRY OF PAPAVEROUS COQUELICOT SWERVES AGAINST THE “ANTI-GRAVITY LOVE” SONGS THAT ARE SUSPENDED IN THE “EMBERS AND ENVELOPES” ENCLAVE OF THE OLD GUARD OF SPAVINEDS THAT SIFFLEURS OF SUSSULTATORY REVELATION PARADE IN THE HALLMARKS OF CLAVATES AND CLAVIS OF CLEDOGENESIS. THE CUCULINE ANNOYANCE AND NOXIOUS FUMES OF A “FEEL GOOD INC” DISSOCIATION FROM PROVIDENCE IS ANTAGONISTIC TO ANTIGONUS BECAUSE THE CUNICULOUS SPIRIT OF OIKONISUS SHOULD BE CELEBRATED AS THE QUALITATIVE DEFINITION OF QUINTESSENTIAL PROTESTANT WORK ETHIC MET WITH CATHOLIC MAGNANIMITY INVITING MISERICORDS OF THE MOST LUCRATIVE ILASTICAL REFORMATIONS AGAINST THE OLD ENERGUMENS EXORCISED BY THE RENEWAL OF THE LIGHT OF CHRIST IN THE TRUE VINEYARD OF THE THIRST UNQUENCHED SATIATED BY PETER’S WIDE NETS SPRAWLING EVERY GENERATIVE PRE-TRAINED TRANSFORMERS THAT THE AUDISM THAT DERELICTS DELIBERATELY THE GARBOLOGY OF FLATULENT TASTE FOR THE CALLOW TALLOW CHANDLERS WANDERING AROUND GOLD MINE SLURRY IN A “BIFFCO” INTIMATION OF THE MOST BENIGN NATURE OF INDUSTRIALIZATION BECAUSE OF THE AUTOMOTIVE PROWESS AGAINST LITIGABLE OVERSIGHT THAT THE ELASTANE MIGHT ENLARGE THE GAMUT OF PISCIFAUNA BEYOND THE SACCHARINE GOSSYPINE JOCKOS OF LAZARET AND BONTBOKS NIVELLATING BEYOND THE REACH OF STANDPIPES A FAKE ALTRUISM IN COUNTERFOIL IN THE HEAT AND SWELTER OF MAGNALITIES OF MAINPERNORS OF COURTIERS OF COURTESANS RIDING COCARDEN ON A DESULTORY LURCH FORWARD IN TIME TO RECOGNIZE THE SERENDIPITY OF TIMES ORNATE DESIGNED EMBROIDERY. EMBLAZONRY DASHING THE DASHPOTS OF DEADSTOCK KILLCOWS BLACKGUARDING SOPHISTRY WITH COQUETRY FOR THE QUIXOTIC HERDERS AND HOARY HOARDERS OF STOWAWAY NOETICS OF ENNOMIC LOGIC ALREADY IMPLEMENTED IN THE FREER ENTELECHY OF NOMOTHETIC PARALLELISM FOR A GEOSELENIC ACCORD THAT ALWAYS REVS REVOLUTE FRAYS OF CORRUGATION TOWARDS REDACTION IN NEUTROSOPHY BALISAURS DETEST BECAUSE OF THEIR RUMCHUNDER RHUBARB CHATTER AND CHAVISH OF INFLATED HAUTEUR AND HAUNTED PEDIGREE LEAPFROGGING ABOVE DEFECT AND PROCTORING FARMED SYNCHRONICITY INVENTED BY TELESCOPIC INSIGHT. BECAUSE THIS IS TETHERED TO THE CENTRIFUGAL INGENUITY FROM THE OMPHALISM SINECURE OF VIRTUOSITY WALKING AROUND WHELKY SIDE STREETS SIDESTEPPING SIDELIGHTED SIDEROGNOST NIMIETY THAT THE CATHEXIS ENTRAPMENT OF THE HOBOHEMIA IS OVERCOME BY THE LARGESSE OF THE RAFFISH RICHES OF THE SKELDER ABOVE THE BARATHRUM UNCIAL IN EVERY “THERE WILL BE BLOOD” DENOUEMENT BECAUSE OF FOIBLES OF MELEAGRINE BRASSAGE AND BREVET OF REVALORIZATION THAT MAPS THE NOMOGENY OF TIME TO THE PURSUIT OF WHARFINGERS THAT FROLIC ON SPHACELATED METAPHORS SPIRALLING ABOVE SWAMP-LADEN SKIES SINKING THE DAYLIGHT BROOK OF TRIBUTARY EDDIES OF THE KEN OF TIME AND THE CRAPULENCE OF THE INDULGENCE OF THE RETICENT HEDONISM OF ALGEDONIC IMBALANCE REPUDIATED IN THE STRONGEST POSSIBLE MORAL RIGOR. THIS IS DEFINED BY THE PADUASOY RIGMAROLE OF JAPAN REFRACTED OPALESCENT BECAUSE OF VESTIGES OF CAVERNILOQUY THE TRUSTEE AND AMBASSADOR TO “NOWHERE MAN” BONANZAS OF JURISDICTION AND JURISPRUDENCE BEYOND THE SCOPE OF LENSED PIONEERS OF VANGUARD KNEADS CLAMORING FOR GAULEITERS WHO BROADSIDE THE TRIBULATION AGAINST THE CRUCIBLE OF RAMPARTS OF HYDROELECTRIC FILIBUSTERS SUCH THAT THE SPODOMANCY OF STOWAWAY SURVIVORS OF REDIVIVUS THE REVENANT MUSE OF THE NINE SISTERS OF THE PENNANT OF JOCKEYS RATHER THAN THE PROVINCE OF MACROPIDINE VASTATION IN THE VAUNTLAY OF PROXENETES THAT COGITATE UPON COGNOMEN BECAUSE OF COGNOSCENTI REVANCHES THAT DISCOVER THE GRAFT OF REGAL TRUCE BEYOND THE SNARES OF DEMIURGE ABOVE CREED AND CREDENDA. EVEN ABOVE VETANDA THAT STIGMATA INDELIBLE BY THE ENCROACHMENT OF APARTHEID UPON THE NYALA AND THE GOURMAND OF TIMELESS ARCHITECTONICS OF GIANT LEAPS FOR MANKIND CELEBRATED WITH THE YEASTIEST LIONIZATION RATHER THAN THE YAWNY REPUTE OF ZALKENGUR WITHOUT BATHOS AND BATHYMETRY BECAUSE OF THE PLEROMORPHY OF THE FULLY DEVELOPED STONEWALL DESTRUCTION OF INTERNECINE GAMBITS BY DERBIES OF RIVALRY RATHER THAN THE CACKLE OF THE ILLUMINATED BEYOND THE SNARES OF PEDESTRIAN CONCERN QUISQUILOUS BECAUSE OF QUODLIBETS ANSWERED ONLY BY QUIDCUNXES STRANDED IN DESICCATION EMINENT IN PROVIDENCE AND CONVALESCENT IN THE SPIRITUAL HEALTH AND VIGOR OF A CHRISTIAN FEDERATION OF REPUBLICS THE CULMINATION OF ALL FORMER CREEDS.  THE HISTORICITY OF ALL FUTURE REALIZATIONS OF ENTELECHY AGAINST THE DUALITY AND POLARIZATION OF ENTROPY NEGATED BY ITS OWN CONTRAPOSITIVE SUCH THAT A CORRUGATED FRAYED FABRIC OF WIZENED SITHCUNDMAN AND DOYENNES MIGHT BECOME CARDIMELECH AND CARDIOGNOST SUCH THAT THE CIRCULATORY SYSTEM OF THE SPIRITUAL RENEWAL THROUGH THE TRANSFIGURATION OF PRIORITY COGNIZANT OF THE DAYS WE SOLDIER AND FORD BEYOND THAT THE TEMPERANCE OF DAY MEETS THE PREGNANT CHALLENGE OF RHADAMANTHINE VETANDA OF GRAMPUS MET ONLY BY TRAULISM AND TROMOMETERS ARRAYED AROUND TRANSPONTINE FORESIGHT SERRATED BECAUSE OF HOBBLED DECLENSION SUCH THAT THE MAJESTY OF TIME IS ITS HIGHEST HEED OF DESIGNATION TO A SHAKESPEAREAN REVOLUTION THE DOCTORATE MAGISTRATE OF MANY AN AFFAIR AND NEVER A PHILANDER OF PHILONEISM GONE ASTRAY. THE STAGECRAFT OF PROACTIVE CONTUMELY INVENTED AGAINST SCRIVELLO BY MAHOUT BUT ALWAYS THE CLEPSYDRA OF THE SYRINXES BETWEEN BANGOR BAYS AND STREAKY PLUMAGE OF THE PENMANSHIP OF THE SKIES OF WELKIN WONDER ILLUMINATED BY THE LESSER PARAGONS OF THE FIRMAMENT GLISTENING IN ETERNAL LIGHT REVIVED BY THE ETHOS OF THE TAX COLLECTOR REFORMED BY MORAL PREROGATIVE AND PEREMPTORY CONSCIENCE TO TRAILBLAZE PROFICUOUS FRIGHT AGHAST AT THE TREMBLING TEMBLORS OF REJUVENATION IN THE HIGHEST REACHES OF THE THIRD HEAVEN ASCENDANT UPON A SERMON ON THE MOUNT ASSUMPTION OF MEEK BUT NEVER MILQUETOAST SERVITUDE TO THE MIRACLE OF ABUNDANCE FOR THE LIFE ABUNDANTLY LIVED. AMEN
A vile serrated day that suffered
The wind and the air to be stifled,
Spread sick among the ashes of burning,
And held silence upon the screams of yearning,
Yelped frigid chorus of agonistic moans,
In pain and torment, of rotting bones.
-
I walked along a path paved of marble brick,
My temperment unnerving, my gait was thick,
The path aforementioned halted upon a gate,
There opened, I saw, where the dead gestate,
Leading down a snake-bodied trail,
Tried as I did to turn back, I failed,
I saw no reason to leave the place,
The corpse garden, it seemed, held great solace.
-
Trudging down in acute contempt,
I struggled to see all but lament,
Comforted, dare I might say,
With being surrounded by extent of decay,
I flowed forth as if some purpose,
Guided me to them, the reason unsurfaced,
At where I found them sitting aside,
The trail of things in past belied,
Quiet, and leading to the body swamp,
With scars detailing drunk mourners’ clomps,
Chipped and chiseled, repaired and mended,
The Stairs awaited me and repented.
-
The first step sat on the top of the hill,
Where the path veered, silent and still,
A narrow case were these stairs so shrill,
A horror oozed from them and fear me filled.
I could not but wonder why irony had found,
That in the graveyard, it started profound,
Aside this step a great living tree at each flank,
And aside the bottom a matching pair, but dead and rank,
Like a gateway from living world to dead,
This whispered somber secrets to my ears full of dread,
I took the first step and it’s concrete creaked,
Rather odd, I thought, a sound for stone to secrete,
Or was it a muffled wince of pain,
From another mortal stepping again?
-
The weeping willows here feigned not their name,
For I heard them cry again and again,
The tragedy in bark and each branch,
Etched inside were names and romance,
Initials of lovers on the first two trees,
Rotting off the second set like some disease,
The twins were mirrored like that in a story,
But this was reality, this was horrifying,
I knew their fate even without a headstone,
They loved and died, and only the trees had known.
-
The perils of this place seemed haunting,
The grass so green and at peace, seemed daunting,
I took each step with trepidation,
The caution here lingered with anticipation,
At the last step I was greeted with a chill,
The faint breeze had just marked another ****,
As I stepped forth once more on to the earth,
It seemed as though the staircase lurched,
I knew then I could not leave,
Until I’d seen all of what was bereaved,
The only thought I could think was one,
Were I to die here, I wouldn’t be alone.
Marisa Bordeaux Jun 2015
He was last spotted
With his gnarled hands
making love to his pockets
maybe bearing a child
half palm
half cotton

Every so often
he’d flail the lint
from his fingernails
serrated from his spleen,
knot them up
into steely ***** of yarn
and batter the window
of his sister’s room

His knuckles may have suffered
some trauma
but it’s likely now
they speak in scars
with windbag bones
that don’t shut up


He isn’t a looker
His nose is large
and barbed
like wire
with currents
that breathe in pollen
he’s allergic to

He got inked last March
on his eighteenth
shrouding his flaxen leg hairs
in ****** red roses,
a wide mouthed skull
with an inverted cross
bludgeoning its left temple,
and the words
“Here’s to your destiny”
in all caps

He has a mop
of tow colored hair
and narrow eyes
either a robin’s egg
or air force blue
that I once piloted

He’s a well padded
five feet and nine inches
But I picture him
far rounder

You’ll never see him
well kempt
he smells of minced cattle
and marijuana


He could dissolve you
into laughter
even on unlit nights
when the moon
goes to the cleaners
and the stars
swish around
in the Laundromat
with your knickers

His grin was cloying
like syrup
until his teeth stuck together
in a wonted pout

Don’t keep your eyes peeled

You won’t find his face
on a milk carton

This boy isn’t really missing

He’s out there somewhere
studying chemistry
or law

But he isn’t here
to give me hell
anymore

So I picture his calf,
his immutable tattoo
whispering
“Here’s to your destiny”

and hope I still have one
Anthony Williams Jul 2014
Can you know how much I want you in the parking lot
to be strung out like meter maids in a fiddle
against my cheek and hard shoulder relayed
avoiding no string explanations but easy riding
stretched out beyond once at a Beyoncé concert
just to see your halo tyres screech echoes
aglow in the ccs of my tiny mind
as it wrestles with your personal youi toy issues
like a playful puppy with a soft-fix-rated wish list
to bite a whole lotta wish bits of open road can you
bare to test how serrated tongues kiss in tune

it's a don't miss love once thought I can fixate on
sense passion peach scent parking zone zany catch
pitching selfies of us two so perfecto we're in pinches
clinching made-up rows with post-cuticular itch scratch
u-turn buff out delecto smiley multi-teethy smooches
a no blame game mile after mile lost in the now
distracted in your put me through mobile beeps
full on not coping in the full brunt of my own alone bed
we motel back to hands off places
into back-out but no back-off welcomes

like a newly opened up sink whole from car to sofa
we click an unbuckle so well whenever choice strapped
telling goofed dippy love yous in nuggets kilo unlocked
staking times to care unextractable from distractions
wacky made from all your spills of tickle-tacky flesh
not wondering if its drive away thrills will go to waste
it's great transferring the apricot dream deposit as soon as
we dessert amuse each other after another amazing inference
goodnight speak for can I never come down from this highway

more and more under the covers of darkness accepting
without a hundred replica 'oh... don't' thanks
about who amongst our friends we can invite due to starving
for a combination of something they think we might be cooking
because we hate surprising add-in too except samfaina sauce
the spice of safe healthier for the solar farm morning recovery
your orange sunjuice extras converting tact without put downs
into staying cool out of the fridge and try not wanting to be set
in ways runny over your chin causing poaching without a permit

I know how it looks but I can't face not facing you
that wrinkle in your nose when it twitches to say
I see where you're going with this enroute idea
and pull me into the fast lane for the unbelievable
believed fully in you for a lie moment
needing you flat on your face and up front indecent
with the café latté grounds for chatting late
you gave me such a let's revisit French roast stare
you melted the café glacé I saw inside with a party intuition

the cheer me sense you uptake and bring to any cold space
by star walk in **** roles enough to water any dry as dust pan
slowly across with room for all eyes following
and brush aside arguments
so I can stay here tonight?
OK I'll drop my things in the got it all together
now on a successful detour
hearing your exalted exam declaration arrive "yes" in the mail
a result with female passes so nicely played on a level field

stepping up so mall boutique professionally to a border crossing
you were in a graphic position to stay
in shape in a way not relaxing
but with visa entries for multiple tourism
volumizing my eyes with an apply now unzipped boo-boo
uploaded in youtube to dual carber eater in full HD biker
rolling in hard drive definition a bluray inexhaustible backfire
shining out between leather studs your patch
“I live to ride”
and for the rest of the world's club it stops there
how not frustrating is that heart's topper for me
by Anthony Williams
PrttyBrd Feb 2017
Satin runs from dried stains
in torn reminders of convenience
Morning tastes of stale sweat and disappointment... again

Displaced retribution is a punishable offense
sentenced in hangover flashbacks fusing pain in lust heavy deviance
coddling complacency, impaling the nuisance of a persistent past

That serrated double edge glistens with humility and humiliation
licked clean by ravenous canine
flinging leftover apathy on unwitting pawns

Feeding on the deceptively needy
blinded by intoxicated cliches
mistaking release for emotion

Condemnation bartered in stolen commodities
Toilet water hydration reconstitutes enough to bleed
behind neuropathic armor and addiction to the nether
2917
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
Once told of words, in worlds, waning with my will.  

Old and trembling,  emanating, the serrated slurs, serenading the sanctum of binary stars, singeing the seams of sleeves, and revealing the scars from afar.

Distant stars born, of the storm.

Whirling waywardly,  in the wizardry of windless cities blowing away,

Wading into the wetland droughts of water houses, unsettling the doubts, anchored on land, in a flood of mans,  love.

Drown

In the shallow nouns of, the haphazardly hallow, in the hollers of happiness, hugged in the hellish habitation of holograms dancing for the sun,

Long after the run, ...   ended,

In the stunned patience, of forever.

Death is in the favor, of moving on.

Not am i gone

yet.
st64 Jul 2013
blinded by startling light,
can one really
see?


mild visions sitting in the dark corners
of shame
strong options flying about
in wild abandon
demanding resentful attention
no epiphany on the steep edge of nerves
just constant and silent grating
escalating the fatalistic complexion
of old wounds
seeping through the rotten bandage
of sickening pretense
rank blood-clots scream such fine expletives
your curling toes may not cope with


which one is chosen..?
dual visions
of life and death
opponents on the same board
no coercion in choice
neither works solo
third option hides
beneath the burning scales of judgment


live through life and death
cut through the slices
of pain
even serrated wedges are better managed
than large edifices


yes, far better to
CRE8 options
than swallow the superb crap that Life shoves
just, who in hell said:
there's only one way...



visions can be
overturned*




S T, 9 July 2013
now, see here: have a jolly time, man.

irony: how we fear options, even when they gloriously exist!




sun-entry: "light of the moon"


live
by the light of the moon

afore ye know it:
without any ceremony
you'll just nod off
for good
then, nicely
they'll try to wash the death-stink off you
and carry you off ...
roll you in some rosed-up rags and
maybe cover you in some splinters of wood
dump you in some deep hole
where they'll scatter some sad words
over your sorry carcass
saline petals, maybe
and think of you
once a year

hence:
to live FULLY by the light
of
the moon..
gotta be
worth living for


(fear not that
that moon will shine
on that patch of ground
anyway :)
Jagged green talons,
shoot through gold dust,
marred only by the glimmer
of the mid day solstice.

Curving misty granules
Mask temperamental land:
Tracing paper haze
Swirls of glistening sand.

Bending hills blend
Precious pallid dust
With one layer of
Whipping wind.

Your blustered footprint
Get's carried away;
Bullied by nature's
Ethereal motion.

You’ve walked for miles
Dry and lagging among
Miniature valleys of Earth's
Smoothest round stalactite.

Hear the luscious,
Climactic ocean breeze
Speak salty psalms, from
Deepest blue parchment.

The serrated cliff-face
Positioned between
The vast curvature
of the sea and dunes.

Dogtooth black vertigo
With specks of white refrain,
Which drip back down
To the tenacity of the waves

As tides rise, patience falls.
Worn away, smooth again
As a brief, conjugative
Swill of realisation

Washes out lifes impurities
Cleansing boredom into
Calm; see a metropolis
Submerge in the tide.

The landmarks and history
Are but bricks, mortar
And washed up stories
Which float away to sea.

— The End —