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"sillouette" poems
To you i would give the passion of the sun and the shine provoked from simmered grass and if the moonlight was not safe from your eye, it's buttermilk glow i would surely pluck down. To you i would give the midnight chimney smoke that sillouette on the sky putting cobbles underfoot. Take my taste of salt as sea white mer-men come a breeze in the laughter of workmen's homecoming. I give the feeling when swallowed by field flax pinpricks of cotton, i'd lay you down bare-skinned. You empty the film on my flesh camera, I keep the removal cuts.
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Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 7:08 PM UTC
Removal Cuts
In your Sillouette, Painted Gold, against Magic Curtain. This Oz Stage, Hiding our bodies. I am lingering. You are gilded beautiful Bare ******* pointed at Chandeliers ****** Capstones sealing perfect Arches I am a foot protruding from your sculpture In mustard. I am that blot behind your Hip Bone Cold Draft from the window Opened Opposite the Magic curtain A breath of ocean waves Our bodies casting illusions In ripples of Moonlit fabric Dancing around our sillouette. Black Moss collects in the shape of your tattoos Silk screen thighs, Underbust Corset where the breeze whispered where my fingertips wrapped your hipbones. growing where we Calloused In our Roughs In our trenches Rubbing Leather against Silk You invested in our common interest. A mirror, Fastened to the Ceiling. Reflecting Our Two Loudest Vices. Ownership, And your body. I love the Chips in your paint. I hate the man who painted you. infected by Tunnel vision Voyeurism Sick with a Spiderweb brain Spinning from your imperfections. You are so, perfect. Artists come from all over To watch the magic curtain. Your Golden arching Back. My Mustard Toes. we all look at you, even you look at you. we do not Blink. Just stare, position ourselves. behind this curtain. Our callouses grow like the black moss bodies marble under ocean pressure erode from the chill winds Your archaic exhibitionism Carved From Counting Gazes Mustard eternally pondering why our sillouettes, different colors Drawn by the same moon, Casted on the same cloth.
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Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 6:31 PM UTC
Silk Woman
In your Sillouette, Painted Gold, against Magic Curtain. This Oz Stage, Hiding our bodies. I am lingering. You are gilded beautiful Bare ******* pointed at Chandeliers ****** Capstones sealing perfect Arches I am a foot protruding from your sculpture In mustard. I am that blot behind your Hip Bone Cold Draft from the window Opened Opposite the Magic curtain A breath of ocean waves Our bodies casting illusions In ripples of Moonlit fabric Dancing around our sillouette. Black Moss collects in the shape of your tattoos Silk screen thighs, Underbust Corset where the breeze whispered where my fingertips wrapped your hipbones. growing where we Calloused In our Roughs In our trenches Rubbing Leather against Silk You invested in our common interest. A mirror, Fastened to the Ceiling. Reflecting Our Two Loudest Vices. Ownership, And your body. I love the Chips in your paint. I hate the man who painted you. infected by Tunnel vision Voyeurism Sick with a Spiderweb brain Spinning from your imperfections. You are so, perfect. Artists come from all over To watch the magic curtain. Your Golden arching Back. My Mustard Toes. we all look at you, even you look at you. we do not Blink. Just stare, position ourselves. behind this curtain. Our callouses grow like the black moss bodies marble under ocean pressure erode from the chill winds Your archaic exhibitionism Carved From Counting Gazes Mustard eternally pondering why our sillouettes, different colors Drawn by the same moon, Casted on the same cloth.
Continue reading...
54
My lady is immortal and shines only for me Setting waves in motion so that I may hear the sea With skin a white as milk that is mine to behold And eyes that shine brighter than both diamond and gold Her ambience inspires those whose love has come and gone The streaks of sultry melodies create a secound dawn And I will look upon her sillouette with unfaltering, desiring eyes As she reaches for me every single night and carries me up high My lady's essense walks upon the solitary shore Her hair of silver, so long and silken, that flows forever more She sips dreams from her teacup and plays amongst the stars But always keeps in my sight to she show she strays not far Oh illustrious siren of destiny, look at your lover and smile Realize he looks to you to carry him through Heaven's aisle And with the kiss you lay upon my cheeks each solitary night I dream of you on glowing shores in palaces of white
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Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 11:25 AM UTC
Maiden of The Moon
Grabbing shadows in the hole like alley way I say Where is the light you promised to show? All i can see is my sillouette Parking itself beneath the moons sigil glow In the kitchen the size of a cabin Robust figures scramble around to service you Grabbing Handfuls of bread to make a feast for immortality. Shadows in the steet lights they crash and slam into eachother scrambling to see to it that their own lives are protected... From who? Just you? The one who said feast on this and become what you see in me? No longer can you be trusted benevolent and respectless... So bring forth your evil and rain down your sludge in the alley I'm grabbing footprints that lead to hospitality Im stabbing peasants drinking essence from the stained blood that i touch Now it seems so exact Now i see..While dancing in this carnivorous place where i can see the moon I've brought upon myself a strain a darkness we call doom The sludge that you rain down covered in limbs bloodied from mastication Is what we see in you... A meaningless intolerance a public scream from excess bliss a carnage from the blue abyss An alley way The cavernous
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Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 5:59 PM UTC
The carnivorous
inside your pale eyes is only my sillouette you see nothing else of me
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May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 7:30 PM UTC
22 (5/7/7) #
treadmill, treadmill, treadmill my mind is in routine exercising all of your expressions unorthodox and quirky mannerisms your decisions are exasperating my mind is exhausted as i try to comprehend your previous steps. memorise, memorise, memorise your voice loops through my head there are cracks in its harmony but it plays like a lullaby even in my dreams your imperfect chords hang over like a utopian sillouette. - t.m
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Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 1:59 PM UTC
loop
I think the sky looks best when it reminds you of Hogarth or other of those 18th century paintings with dark, tight clusters of small leaves which scalpol and sillouette against the powdery blue and creamy spaces I imagine that I look down at my feet and see satin shoes, shimmery and slightly scraped apart at the seams. The kind of shoes that would look at home places by deep eggshell blue skirting boards and bare floors and light faded crimson rugs. Spindly legged furniture accompanied by sounds of stiffened hand-sewn dress skirts grazing the floor like a wedding march Instead, I feel the cold and dry breeze pass by my skin and into my lungs and stomach and every other ***** or miniature tree branch vessel. I think about what the Landscape would have looked like three or four hundred years ago, because it couldn't have looked like this Now, I realise that like those paintings, this sky, breeze, leaves and trees are merely an impression Not familiar enough or filled with enough bleached light I would like to think that in another three or four hundred years others will be breathing a similar cocktail of air and pollution reminiscent of mine and provoke some similar feeling They might visit clothes like the ones I wore In Museum basements they will be categorised in brown paper boxes encapsulated in white tissue paper labels hanging from under the lips of box lids pencil marks indicating contents.
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Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
Museum Poem
Only  a stranger with time. A friend in memory,and a lover in life. His soul engraved in my heart, his spirit blankets me in the dark.       As a cool breeze passes by me ,thats when I feel his feather touch ,which gives me chills so briefly. When I look sharp and afar is when I see his sillouette walking slowly then disapearing into the dark
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Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 12:24 AM UTC
Untitled
Scattered shavings of pencil led To line the dusty floor. Sketched art instead of words unsaid Sleeping behind closed doors. A sillouette in graphite lines Surfaces in the dark, When light shines out and down again The creature does embark.
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Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 11:38 PM UTC
Dust art.
My memory is fading, your face, a burnt and ashen sillouette of blood in my mirror. Catch me, I'm falling, hiding in a nightmare of *********** unrealized sexuality, unwanted. I'll spin on out, uncatchable, ruining lives along the way, carrying only the broken memory of you, Love.
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Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
Love, You are Only a Memory
It’s both strange and disturbing how even after all the time between us, the mere mention of your name in casual conversation or a fleeting glimpse of your sillouette from my periphery still has the power to make my stomach churn and cause this sutured heart to sink from it’s cavity.
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Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 8:04 PM UTC
Periphery
In my memories you're just a sillouette Your outline smudged and grayed I can't see your face Your voice is muffled Void of  gestures I've known you the longest but I can't remember "She lives on in your memories" No, she doesn't When there is no God and no memories What do I have left?
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Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 9:17 AM UTC
Untitled
one with a leaking heart i scare people away with my skin of lifeless twigs and my traumatizing sillouette i scare people away no colour in my eyes, no only silence from my mouth feet fixed to the ground cant do nothing for myself i inhabit this lonely field and scare people away only birds befriend me, i scare people away
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Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 9:55 AM UTC
Scarepeople