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"shhhhhhhh" poems
so guess what, one day I found a key (to a closet (in the church.)) and it was very dark and dusty in there & the ladder nailed to the wall was only wide enough for one foot at-a time, so, it’s lucky that I’m skinny enough to wri-i-iggle my shoulders up and through the hole in the closet’s web-trailing ceiling. I clambered up there and into this black forest. Plants were sprouting up in big rills and clumps-- stalks thin as my finger and pipes wider than my waist, some fading up into the ceiling’s darkness... others squatting low, and glaring up at me with One. black. eye. they were all deathly still. Then, the creaking boards, the black forest, the cramped path of unmarked dust that winds between the pipes, all that just SIGHED and VIBRATED, and with a hisssing hoarsse !shhhhhhhh... breathed! and my heart just stops!!! BAM! {cricket} and i feel ****** into a dark mouth! i am caught and trapped by this black closet’s maw andI’mwaitingfor Godknowswhat tocomewrigglingfromthepipes-- ! --! and then guess what?: !b’URsting up its throat is a SONG! slowlyand Suddenly, a blaring, screaming, golden !EAgle of a chord that s(oa)rs and c’RASHES into anotherand another one all rising and falling, champing at the bit until One Thousand hhums and shhivers fill each pipe. and it feels like holding ten coins in a stack and making them jump-clink-clickity-HOP together-- oh, it feels like pushing your fingertips into a bucket of cold paint it feels like the moment after jumping off of a tall tree it feels like un-rippling your braided hair with both hands like a songbird’s claws curling about your finger, like closing your eyes in a hot summer-sun and falling asleep in a hammock it feels like holding a blacksnake that curls and struggles strong against your wrists, that’s what this church ***** feels like. I’m gonna **** the genius that started playing while I was in there.
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Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 10:47 PM UTC
The Closet (a scary story)
so guess what, one day I found a key (to a closet (in the church.)) and it was very dark and dusty in there & the ladder nailed to the wall was only wide enough for one foot at-a time, so, it’s lucky that I’m skinny enough to wri-i-iggle my shoulders up and through the hole in the closet’s web-trailing ceiling. I clambered up there and into this black forest. Plants were sprouting up in big rills and clumps-- stalks thin as my finger and pipes wider than my waist, some fading up into the ceiling’s darkness... others squatting low, and glaring up at me with One. black. eye. they were all deathly still. Then, the creaking boards, the black forest, the cramped path of unmarked dust that winds between the pipes, all that just SIGHED and VIBRATED, and with a hisssing hoarsse !shhhhhhhh... breathed! and my heart just stops!!! BAM! {cricket} and i feel ****** into a dark mouth! i am caught and trapped by this black closet’s maw andI’mwaitingfor Godknowswhat tocomewrigglingfromthepipes-- ! --! and then guess what?: !b’URsting up its throat is a SONG! slowlyand Suddenly, a blaring, screaming, golden !EAgle of a chord that s(oa)rs and c’RASHES into anotherand another one all rising and falling, champing at the bit until One Thousand hhums and shhivers fill each pipe. and it feels like holding ten coins in a stack and making them jump-clink-clickity-HOP together-- oh, it feels like pushing your fingertips into a bucket of cold paint it feels like the moment after jumping off of a tall tree it feels like un-rippling your braided hair with both hands like a songbird’s claws curling about your finger, like closing your eyes in a hot summer-sun and falling asleep in a hammock it feels like holding a blacksnake that curls and struggles strong against your wrists, that’s what this church ***** feels like. I’m gonna **** the genius that started playing while I was in there.
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Thunder claps blood red, Splattering souls down from the sky. Rain pouring in sheets, Undulating waves of shhhhhhhh, Shining lightning, lighting the land, Pictures in negative contrast. Purple pop, poisoned pole, Hit with pristine precision. The storm gods must have seen The sinking holes in me, Since they're filling them all in Floods of fragrant liquid, Pouring out from me into the Sob-soaked soil below -- Symmetry of the sky and I.
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Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
Storming Synchronicity
shhhhhhhh, kick back put your feet up, take a tea, let it steep deep, open a red let the air go to its head, get a book, shut it all down, power off your phone and leave it alone get off the grid, if there is one, with power where you live, flip the page as your mind steps on to the terrain of words, while your socked feet, touch anothers under the cover of not enough leg room, but you care, so you share, the ottoman as your imagination goes to automatic and into the words that create pictures and stir emotions, that take you places and show                you faces, and lives, and living beyond, the hurt, the superficial, the ache that seldom goes away, the real world, that may have spit and you are hurled to the side, and it always seems to be on the wrong one. Take heart, this too shall pass,... whether it be poetry, biographical history,    a short story, pulitzer prize winner, a novel idea, or a series with or without a quest, may it be the best time you spend, while being grounded in knowing someone, near or far is reading what you are reading and is with you and with you and is on the same adventure too. ©DWE122013
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Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
Time Well Spent (away from the Juggernaut)
like sanity fading to the back of my mind a mind of which i no longer hold claim to controlled and medicated for false reasons a misguided diease i stare in horror at figures you dont see dileauded grasp on reality objects resemble those from a dream i try to hide the tears but they guide their way down my cheeks fall softly upon my lips i taste their salty kiss. sense of sweet nothingness and everything all at once shhhhhhhh if you listen you can hear them calling my name like their screaming out to me in vain attempts to help me stay sane. so baby hold my hand i promise i wont cry ill tell you all im better ill tell you all a lie.
0
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 6:47 PM UTC
plad shirts and peace signs
With heavy breath, I bring pen to page and finger to string and hold left hand over right, to steady my shaking wrist as I tremble, the echo of your voice resonating permeating bouncing off every sinewy fiber, ankles and hips and lungs and heart beating for you. I try to write of other things— of clouds and car crashes and mysterious men in dark suits with trombone cases and silencers, or big whaling ships off the coast of Japan, cold lights singing through marine mist— but the trains of thought all lead to your "I love you," to your "I want you," to your "I'm all yours." The lyrical cadence is tired, reminiscent of the classics and traversing paths well-traveled. The major keys with clean sound— no reverb, no filter, no distortion— are boring and basic, and the vocal sickly sweet and the floor toms empty and the ride cymbal whispering shhhhhhhh over a cavalcade of harmonics in a complete circle of fifths. You are the fairy tale, the "once upon a time" and the "happily ever after" that feel fabricated passing through the lips of others, but more lucid than taste and smell when falling through yours mine ours pressed pushed touch close. It all devolves into tangled limbs bright colors and whispered, made up words. The ones that exist simply won't do. I write every song every single ********* song for you.
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Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
I write every song for you.
for what it’s worth shiny frost man you shook me up last night and your cold heart froze me tangled up in blue and white i’ll never see the endless sky in your eyes i wish i could be here with you the coldest winter is coming in a new shade of black devouring the sky as snow falls shhhhhhhh……
0
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
a new shade of black
Hail! Hail!! Haill!!! The newly born, On this goodly morn', Shhhhhhhh, do not wail.
0
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 9:03 AM UTC
The...Blessed.
He crept his feet that night like a scorpion Dead, even to the sensitivity of nature His presence was patched with uncertain aura Epilepsy at a time, later turmoil in saturation . My God! I should have known by his sophisticated demeanors And his beguiled compliments on my velvet lips His reckless talks of treating me like a queen And the dexterous hold my hips . His hands could bear witness that night As my breath shuffled away "be gentle! " and for your own good, "be quite! " He did it like he had been born for it ... And my silent groans and moans died unheard . Now I only forward to my friend karma But shhhhhhhh He'll **** me! ... If you tell anyone ©️Drunk_poet
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May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
... If you tell anyone
From the moment I opened you up (shhhhhhhh) I knew you were all bottled up (pop) Took off your cap Didn't have to tell you to relax You knew what I was there to do (Sigh) Provide a little piece of paradise for you but in the center of your stomach lived a thunder Nothing frightening considering it wasn't paired with lighting but it made me wonder Who forgot to tell you that you're great You believe it anyway, now, so it may be too late To tell you in so many ways Its fate That the ones who starve at first Soon feed the masses with their worth Destined for beautiful tragedies since birth No accidents can happen This path to reality isn't magic Its fathomed long before we start There is death in the depths of our hearts There is life in the corners of our souls There is beauty in the compilation of both stories when told Truth speaks to seek what lies cannot tell Fear is the reason most things fail So I guess I was afraid to love you The same way I was afraid to lose you Most days I am afraid I'll choose you Over me
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Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 10:13 AM UTC
Bottled Up
MOTHERING INSTINCT Tears...tears well but don't fall. Bottom lip. . .trembles. Top lip. . . quivers & just before she can begin to howl... ...I howl! I open my mouth & - bawl! Stunned she stares at my open mouth with nothing but sobs coming out. 'I'm...cryin'...'cos...you were.. ...gonna...cry! ' I manage to blurt out (trying not to laugh behind my crocodile tears) . She climbs up on my lap (a sturdy little foot on each patella) wipes my fake tears away with her hair. 'Ah...Dónall Dónal...not cry! ' 'Big boy not cry! Sillly...Dónall cry! ' 'Shhhhhhhh! 'she sushes me kissing a me(guilty) of unleashing my four year olds mothering instinct.
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Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 4:51 AM UTC
MOTHERING INSTINCT
Shhhhhhhh Here I come In through the front door I came to see you Through the halls, I creep just to be near you Into the kitchen, I go To see if you're there Next to the bathroom But you're not there Then to the bedroom, I come And here you are resting so peacefully and guess what I brought a knife with your name on it Shhhhhhhhh I'll be done before the morn
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Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 8:35 AM UTC
The Creeper
MAL...FUN...CTION! Her voice was all italics. Her worlds in bold and in BLOCK CAPITALS. "Shhhhhhhh!" I said in lower case. "Shhhhhhhh!" I said agian reducing my voice to a size 9 font. "You say you saw a head..." I said "...sticking out of a brick wall!" She just nodded her head. Too scared of words. And - sure enough ( God bless her little cotton socks ) there was a head sticking out of a brick wall. "Well..!" I said "...well!" to steady my nerve. I thought at first it was only a ghost a trainee ghost not sure as yet of the mechanics of the process of passing through brick walls. But the explication was not as commonplace as all that. "hElP mE. . .hElP mE!" the head said in a Capt. Kirik-ish kind of way. For yea - it was he. I thought now was a bad time to ask for his autograph. "Tele..." the head said. "Yes, yes old chap?" I said. "...porter!" the head said. "Ahh you see..." I said to her. "There's always a logical explanation ...the teleporter broke down just as he was being beamed down through this here brick wall>" "Oh...is that all?" she said finding her voice again and not too shy to use it. And so we continued along down to the local Bingo Hall. Never was one for all that Star Trek stuff.
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Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 1:33 PM UTC
MAL...FUN...CTION!