"shapeshift" poems
the witches
they don't take no ****
feminists with a wand
made from a femur
wrapped in ***** hair,
fingernails, and spit
no
not good little passive girls
although amused by a good spanking
for laughs that titillate
from a red wicked dicked old man
with slippery fireballs
like a spicy cherry pepper
that slurps filths coves
through a black tongue
and open-mawed bite
Femdom's queens
oiled torsos and bond fires
drenched ornaments for laughing snakes
that spread like spider webs
while the whips flash licks
hells tender blood kiss
insatiable prayers
and
************ rituals
mixed like bones in broth
with intricate sigils and saliva red
menstruum her holy sacrament
that shapeshift crones into young girls prancing
and bind water to stones
her spell can crack your skull
like a mules kick
and melt your eyes
like nuclear skies
no
the witches
they don't take no ****
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
It's telling looking through
the window’s eyes ;
a room with a paling grey glass view
befogs the clouds reign inside the storm
Often feeling misbegotten regret
for the unfiltered passing glimpses,
whetstone honed and splayed ;
raw hues of a latent life exposed
There's an uncertain hidden shame
in the unheard truth
starving out in the cold;
dwelling in a petrifying silence
of a common hunger
the lonely do ache
Merciless hunger pangs
manifest and shake
with an unrelenting bitter taste ;
loneliness grapples and grips
like a silent earth quake
rattling a rib caged heart — writhing
as Autumn bares the trees
A jagged ambiguous fault line
ripples through the hollow echo ;
a bolt of lightning caught in a bottle
strikes — silently contained
swallowing the unspoken words
in a greater good
This broken merry-go-round
keeps turning round and round;
the great mandala spinning on
like a worn out hamster-wheel
without a conscious trace
of going anywhere out there
The place you come from
is gone when you leave it —
even if you really never
feel you were from anywhere
but a thousand unmarked mileposts
from out here somewhere adrift;
a pilgrimage towards understanding
why sometimes I don’t know
if I know who I am — or could have been —
waiting on a threadbare prayer
One-day the winds of change
will shapeshift — bye and bye ...
"When the light that's lost within us
reaches the sky"
Jesse Stillwater
November 2018
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 2:16 PM UTC
My word, that's a gut wrenching cry
you have there, monsieur le coq
A piercing horn-of-plenty rant
that causes the stars to retreat
No wonder St Peter repented
Is that cackle-raising to rouse those
who give their all for ghosts in machines?
Or does that siren you summon
quicken earthbound worms
early bird fishers of men
are after?
Chef de partie stirs his cuppacino dreams
Bulging pajamas shapeshift
as he turns, chomps his jowels
and salivates *Long live Chicken a la King
Sharpen my knife*
Oct 12, 2009
Oct 12, 2009 at 9:19 AM UTC
Scares even the
Moonlight away—
His only friend
The artificial
Eight-pronged
Sun of street lamps
Marking "X"
His position.
I'm quite sure he's
Undocumented—
Perhaps a new age
Nightcrawler only,
Not powerful at all.
I can see
His hands—
How they yearn
To clutch something more
Than the cigarettes
And the rosaries
That line his left and right
Ring fingers—
Shapeshift and
Solidify—
Take heart.
Behind him is
The old Senate,
To be converted to
A museum—
His name swallowed up
By the hollow grandeur
Of a once great Nation's
Emptied stronghold.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
Good morning, my love.
I didn't mean to stare.
I was just envying
the pillow beneath your head,
and the sheets that envelop you
in their comforting warmth.
While you were off
In surreal realities
That shapeshift into truths
I was waiting here,
Watching your every move.
Good morning, my love.
Know that every waking moment
Is the miracle
That brings you home to me.
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 8:39 PM UTC
Musings
shapeshift
into intricate words
with a mind of their own
that fall into place
and make beautiful songs
which travel along
Continents
Consciousness
Vibrations and Waves
free as the birds
once alight,
resonate
with bodies and souls.
Trusting the journey
is a curious adventure,
not a God complex,
a Writer is
but a facilitator,
allowing our innermost
turn into artwork,
delicate necklace
that hangs ‘round the throat.
Aug 8, 2022
Aug 8, 2022 at 11:19 AM UTC
if your body is a particle, then
my body is a wave. it's like what
you said about gas flowing through
machines, but electrons are here or
they are not. how come i can still see
them lined up inside the ceilings, buzzing
like plasma, at the top of their slide?
if we were to reverse the magnetic
throne of the cosmos, we would need
a loud flash in the sky, we would need
to sift softly through fingertips of the mid
atlantic ridge, hiding some old geological
secret between spiderwebs of sediment.
or perhaps we could just use the polarity
of your countenance. when deep layers
in your bottom lip mold into the glowing
curve of a waxing crescent moon, the
circuits lose hold of their currents like
dry wells, the ancient secret is unveiled.
and that is what you want, right? an
apocalypse. a royal key into the ground
through wilderness. once we return the roots
of our ancestors into dirt, will we suddenly
connect the triangles looming in a nuclear sky?
you and i, we lick our bonds so tight, if anything
crashed into them they'd shapeshift into seismic
waves released as thermal energy.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC
I-
I undress her every weekend night.
To fill her insides with expired love & lust.
As thoughts & images of him shapeshift inside her head.
I feel like a stained glass artist.
Broken fragments after fragments, restore, recovered, painting over this mind of hers.
To hide the regret, shame, pain, & dignity,
She's thrown away for me.
He had you, you had him.
Now I have you & I don't want you.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 3:36 AM UTC
A town whose people shapeshift everyday
keeps only worn-down roads and festive lights;
the shops, almost enchanted, switching names --
to change at will is to be true to type.
But though it's bittersweet, I must not dwell,
for dwelling simply makes me wish to die:
there cannot be a more merciless hell
than to be self-aware of time gone by -
so I face the days head-on, one by one,
thanking whatever deity's up there
for clockwork rising-falling of the sun;
a beauteous sight we're allowed to share.
Singing 'nostalgia' on our aged guitars
just picks at scabs that are to become scars.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 10:54 AM UTC
i don’t claim to set the boundaries on my freedom.
checkpoints tend to become distractions
the trees shapeshift in the night buried deep in the sinking kingdom
frightfully stirring, unconsciously aligning through permeable borders
forwards cowards
onwards or bend backwards
a gripped touch shuffled past emotions, lowering and cowering
concealed by a brash rhythm.
subtle inclinations shiver your frown
freedom can be locked in a box unruled.
the kingdom with a forgotten crown
and a lonely clown not fooled.
What you made will fade.
Like the sun creating shade.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 1:50 AM UTC
Kiss me,
I'm sick.
I love you,
I hate you,
in 30 second intervals.
I shapeshift
in ten syllables
with no pauses.
You think that this time
it'll be different,
that I won't run.
And I flinch
because you don't
deserve this.
The truth is
that I'm already
dreaming of
wide open spaces
and books with blank pages.
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 2:12 AM UTC
people they prosper inside their own lights
and every thought you made used to keep me awake at night
now the silence leads to an eerie calmness inside of this place
that i cant erase
it wasnt too long ago that you said to me
just do what you feel and live your life carefree
i said but, what you do just doesnt bring me any happiness or peace
then i blink
and you're gone
from me
so dont haunt me like you used to do
i cant stand the thought of your spirit right now
and if my lonely mind would multiply not divide
i'd let you stay here and i'd live in fear
until the daylight, comes
until the daylight sun
into the daylight, run
into the daylight, love
getting too near, inside of here
phobic of the sun the moon and the rain
cant contain so i shapeshift
so take what I get and give what I got
I am a man with no future and a man with no plot
feel it in my bones never thought id hear myself say
i'd let you stay here
until the daylight sun
until the daylight comes
into the daylight run
into the daylight love
followed to close behind your ghost unfolding
phobic of the sky the grass and the trees
and i cannot untrain, my spirits
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 4:28 AM UTC
“you can't go home,” said thomas wolfe, “back home to the
old forms and systems of things which once seemed ever
lasting but which are changing all the time.” but...here i am.
i've shattered that idea like expensive broken china, like the
mirrors i shattered within the 72 hours of being back here in
texas, the state of volatile weather patterns and skeletons i've
hid in the toybox in the attic upstairs. he said, “i can't go back
home to my childhood.” thomas, i have retained memories
like these and kept them hidden in the jewelry box along
with the lock of my hair i cut with scissors purposely when
i was seven tied up in a bow. i've uncovered artifacts from
my past, refuting your statement. thomas said, “i cannot go
back home to aestheticism.” as he believes the small-town
image i exist within will shapeshift at will and without
hesitation. another thing, he mentioned, “i cannot go back
home to one's youthful idea of 'the artist' and the all-sufficiency
of 'art' and 'beauty' and 'love'.” landmarks still stand out to me.
the bridge connecting both parks nearby my house overlooking
a large lake at the peak of the golden hour is sufficient enough
for art. it is sufficient enough to be considered something of
beauty, that needs to be captured. it is sufficient enough to
remember i've loved and lost so many things on this bridge.
thomas said, “i cannot go back home to the father you have
lost and have been looking for.” but thomas, i have recently
faced my dad with red glazed-over eyes, and he has always
been looking out for me. he has always shone a beacon
towards me, yet i've been so terrified of following the lights
in fear of losing my shadows. you told me, “i cannot go back
home to someone who can help you, save you, ease the burden
for you.” all i have been doing is surrounding myself with
people who can help me, save me, and ease my burdens.
and i can't help but notice gaps in these moments when
you say, “you're back home to the escapes of time and
memory, but katelyn, remember, the old forms and systems
of things which once seemed everlasting are rapidly changing
all the time.” and i notice the large gaps like amnesia blackouts.
sorrow can handle long distance relationships, but i can not.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 4:06 AM UTC
Ideals conjured
from unrealistic dreams
shapeshift in the dark
***** in the shadows
carve indelible
wounds
on your heart,
your soul
until you realize
you're all alone
out of step
out of time.
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 3:48 AM UTC
Just let me read
I don't want to be here anymore
Just let me read so I can leave this world for a little while
Just a little break from the drama and the torture
That's all I ask
To be in a world with dragons and zombious plagues because its better than here
To have the ability to freeze time and have powers so I can finally be the one in control
To see God and Jesus because they promised to make my life easier
To be immortal and shapeshift because death does not exist
I need to be able to pause
To just place a bookmark in my life so I can continue the one that lives on the pages
I need the magic
I need the fairies and mermaids
I need the talking animals
I need to fly
I need the stories
I need the possibilities
I know, I know
Their just fiction
But sometimes I just need a happily ever after
Because I know ill never have one
Please just leave me with my books so I can just pretend for a little while
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 1:36 PM UTC
You shapeshift
in my dreams
and whichever
shape you take
fits perfectly
with mine.
~mce
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
The mystery machine
inside me knows more than me.
I have felt it do impossible, unnamed things.
Secretive marches streaming in night missions, pulling armies of light through me.
My lips have not uttered it.
My silence cries alone, thinking of it.
I felt the river of God break me, inside, where it all makes sense.
You took my words, crushed them all, left me with this expansion inside where you have obliterated every wound I ever felt.
How do I proceed to the next stage, now that my pollution is gone, and the water holds the sun, rushing through me like a heavenly beam of purity?
All my locomotive prayers shapeshift to liquid on my cheeks.
I will wait for you to March.
My tears quaking in another world.
My understanding reaching for more.
The keys to your door gleaming in the feelings this mystery machine produces as I sway helpless from your beloved wind.
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 4:40 PM UTC
Just like landscape
Set in stone
Blend right in
Vaperous bones
You didn't see me
I already know
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC
I don’t get why people want me to stay the same
When all I want to do is change
Never been normal or human
I’ve always wanted to be a shapeshifter
Now look what I am
An ever blooming flower
Don’t try to stop something that’s supposed to happen
I exist for a reason, not sure what
Try and stop me
I dare ya.
Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 7:49 PM UTC
Everything is Alien
I Don’t know where I’m at
Warped spaces, in transit faces
Straight lines don’t exist in this dimension
Was it a pull or was it a push
It wasn’t my gut and it wasn’t a fluke
My brain feels like it’s splitting from the inside
And I don’t have claws to scoop it out
Everything is alien
I don’t know who you are
What is a you and what is there to do
When surroundings shapeshift and change perception
What is even happening, response flight or fight
Everything now is shaded in doubt
Everything is Alien now
Everything is alien
I don’t know who I am
What is my name, where is my mind
I can’t even breathe, I know something’s not right
Everything now is shaded in doubt
Everything is Alien now
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 1:16 PM UTC
To me,
My words,
Are my thoughts.
Milk in a pan drifting,
Lazily in mexican waves,
On tiptoes with fingertips,
Stroking the three litre line.
to you
my words are
the time you blinked
and clots of milk swelled into pregnant pufferfishes
and a siren hissed incessant incantions you swore fate birthed to hex your mind
and a trident foamed at the mouth relishing the theft of nature's permission to shapeshift into a lightening bolt and to zap your stove a blistering white in three times ten to the eight metres per second
Oct 6, 2020
Oct 6, 2020 at 2:52 PM UTC
Dreaming of all the great times
Watching rain fall, fall, fall
Wanting it all, reaching out
Watching the clouds seemingly shapeshift
Moving forward in such a manner
Faster than train, higher than a plane
Until
Suddenly the lights come flashing
So quick, breathing is not an option
Was it all for nothing?
Was it for an undetermined legacy?
The lights come flashing
Flashing forever
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 12:10 AM UTC
Sword is my heart
Instinct is my mind
Say what you want, i leave you behind
The devil may cry, the angels may sing
i carry the flame of northen ghost king
And rivers flow and grass grow
By same will as i will one this the dao
natural pull, unbeatable power
hear my voice creatures
i shapeshift to be your servant
i shapeshift to be your king
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 2:35 PM UTC
if i could shapeshift,
my spine would show and my collarbones would cut.
if i could shapeshift,
my wrists would shrink and my thighs would disappear.
if i could shapeshift,
my waist would sink in and my hips would smooth out.
if i could shapeshift,
i would turn into someone you could love.
Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 10:34 PM UTC