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Ottar May 2013
There is a history, could be called their story,
But the clouds,
To the dirt beneath,
Their finger nails,
All were lined in silver,
Or other precious metals,
Smelted with treasured memories,
Weaving silver through all,
The storms, along every cloud,
Each raindrop and teardrop too,
They labored,
In veins of mineral mines,
They smelted iron ore,
Got more troy ounces then they
Bargained for, by the millions,
Gold and silver for those linings,
Precious and semi-precious metals,
From deep holes in the ground,
To a furnace that evaporated sweat,
Under the fireproof suits, they worked hard,
Honestly while wearing protective lenses and
Not rose coloured glasses, it was a good life,
Memories and faded glory days,
Until the Company, took it away, bit by bit,
Leaving,
Flame but little glory,
To those special days,
And bygone days,
There are still a few,
Who survived modernization,
There are many more,
Whose best memory,
Is the pension,
Crew mates are gone,
Spouses are gone,
Yet the special days,
Are celebrated anyways,
In the Silver City,
That joy is almost,
Tangible, to when,
Generations of men,
Went home to their women, children
Broke bread, drink vino and shots of grappa,
Sharing day shift or afternoons,
And graveyard shifts during the boom,
Today many years later, more than 100,
Now the fireworks light the night-sky,
While figments of the past, stand shoulder,
To shoulder, with those who remain,
Shared memories of silver linings.
For Trail during this weekend of Silver City Days
Sombro Sep 2015
The river valley was cleaved beneath the rushing horse’s hooves
As dragons beat against the sky, to roar, and so to prove
The might of beasts against the foe, this ‘mankind’ they oppose
But black the night was, truly so, Sir Crowshirron composed.

His lance flew banners, dark as jets, into the dragon’s keep
He split the fire with shield and steed in one almighty leap.
The castle stood of smelted glass as grey as stormy skies
Each tower stood as instrument to ring the dragon cries.

The sturdy gate split as a twig, weak to the black knight’s sword
And then the drawbridge split asunder, board by petty board.
Inside the court the black knight strode, cape flayed the dragon fire
Up marched the knight, dark steel alight up to its crooked spire.

There he saw the demon’s claw clutching ill-gained prize
A screaming child, from pastures wild, with terror in its eyes.
The Black Knight gave no motion and no outcry passed his helm
He stood up taller, prouder still and challenged the dragon’s realm.

They say that lightning split the sky about the battle field
And that after days of endless rage the knight refused to yield.
Down swooped the dragon, teeth and claws, to shower fire and rain
But still the knight would hold his sword and stand to fight again.

Until the moon propped up the sky and broke the dragon’s flight
The black beast  smashed into the keep, split by the black knight’s might
There it lay, curled in dismay, smote by mortal hand
He told the dragon, word and sword, to leave this fragile land.

But dying breaths of stricken foes stilled breathed their poisoned fire
The dragon’s head, eyes running red, made clear his cruel desire
‘Finish me whelp, lest you do, I’ll return and seek your defeat,
But if I die, know this, you shall not be thanked for this brave feat.

A black knight you are and so shall be until the end of days
For all will see a soulless husk, not worthy of their praise.
For dragonslayer you are within, a man with strength and might.

Yet your soul will know that they see only a Black Knight.
They’ll run you from their homes at dawn, they’ll make you see the light
For words from mouths as black as tar make weak the dragon’s bite.’


The Knight looked down upon the beast and ‘fore he stabbed his lance
He showed his smile unto the brute and broke the dragon trance
With floating heart he took the child back to her anxious town
He set her down in front of those who gave a blackened frown.

‘We cannot take this child again, her soul is sure corrupted
You and the beast, two monsters, have held her uninterrupted
For though we good folk try to live there are demons such as you
And now that you have seen her she is not the child we knew. ‘

The black knight took the child back to the shattered dragon’s keep
And seeing the slain corpse of the beast the child began to weep
‘He kept me here, with gifts and love and laughter for my heart
He told me he’d no family and now he had a start

‘Sweet daughter’ he would call to me, ‘I wish to see you please’
And still you slew him, seeing threat, not person, with great ease.
We are a kind, us three poor souls, not like the ‘normal’ men
we give ourselves to people who will ne’er love us again.’



There the knight stood, till the moon lit the sight
Of gentle dragon without his might
‘Family.’ He said softly, and shut his eyes tight,
‘I could have had a family.’ Wept the black, the broken knight.
A comment on prejudice and discrimination, not only based on physical attributes, but emotional as well.
ottaross Nov 2013
[Hint - it's fun to read this one out loud :) ]*

Upon a crusty and spinning crag
Herbert's trusty craft did set,
Out beyond the path of Mars
In an asteroid belt they met.

Picked from out of thousands there
He selected a rocky home,
The perfect kind of rocky mass
To end his spacely roam.

First Ceres was too large and bold
And Pallas was too pale,
Old Vesta flew with sluggish wings
And Hygiea seemed too frail..

Ah, Sylvia seemed a likely rock
And her orbit seemed fine too,
But t'was Juno caught his eye at last
So what else could he do?

He sat his craft upon that rock
And loosed his robot throng,
Soon they mined and smelted ore
And built a structure strong.

That dome rose up with welded struts
To stand on a bright-lit plain,
The jewel-like panes filled out the place
O'er that kingdom he would reign.

Industrious 'bots and a stately home
So there did Herbert rule,
O'er a stark and rocky, lonely view
In the asteroid belt so cruel.

T'was far away to the nearest soul
No one to share Herb's tea,
To simply chat or share a bite
How lovely would that be?

Deep beneath old Juno's crust
'Bots mined for all their worth
Pulling out rare stuff and gems
And sending them to Earth.

But all the gold and diamond stones
Could hardly even start,
To fill the void that Herbert felt
Where he knew he kept a heart.

Yet, several rocky asteroids out
Across that rocky belt,
Another set upon her task
With ores and **** to melt.

Past Callisto and Iris zones
Where Cybele and Psyche spin
Fair Susanna tended Hektor's mines
Of silver, zinc and tin.

Now orbits often twist and dance
And trade with one another,
Where one boulder once was kin
There soon will be some other.

T'was thus that Herbert's Juno rock
Slowly made it's way,
To catch-up Susie's Hektor world
And shadow it one day.

Sue looked out her glass abode
To see what blocked the sun,
Then seeing Juno with its mines
A visit seemed like fun.

Toward a spot near Herbert's ship
Suzanna's came a-falling,
Imagine Herbert's bright surprise
Seeing visitors a-calling.

A shapely suit with bubble head
And jet-pack soon came floating,
To Herbert's door that afternoon
The sight had him emoting.

"Well hello there friend, and who are you
That to my rock comes knocking?"
"Just another miner fool
Whose sun your Juno's blocking"

"In just a little while, I'm sure
Our asteroids will part,
So why not stay a little while
And a friendship we can start?"

Double shipments soon they made
To send away to Earth
While their robots toiled each day
The sweethearts shared their mirth.

Great love did our Herb and Susie share
Built on those pleasant talks
And soon a tractor beam they fixed
Between their drifting rocks.

And still today in spacers' lore
They talk about that tether,
That linked two hearts among the rocks
Two asteroids bound together.
Viseract Jun 2016
He has words
Hiding in his mind
That he's ready to release
A jailbreak, another crime

But he chokes
The words fall
Back down his throat
He can't call

He can't speak
How the hell is he gonna pass his speech
His class looks
They all look up
Simultaneously closing their books

Another failure
Oh wow what a surprise
Contrary to behaviour
He can't talk, so who the f_ck's gonna play saviour?

I will

I'll say what he had to say
Seeing as how he can't say it in his place
Because his face
Is paralysed
As he looks up to the skies
Surprised
As deep inside his hope dies

Just like it did, that one day
When a strong current almost had him swept away
But a girl came to save him
So stunned by events his response was a grin
The situation grim
She calmly smiled back
Told him everything's okay, there's no pain, just relax

They spoke once the got back onto the shore
Laughing, pushed him, like "why'd you scare me for?"
Introduced each other, so close like sister and brother
In love with one another
But thinking the other doesn't feel that
Way

The last time they spoke, a warm summers night
He kissed her hand in polite mockery, said goodnight
Because to him you see, she was royalty,
And he truly believed
He'd see her soon
But was deceived

He was barely three blocks away,
So caught up in images of her face
He didn't hear her scream

Now every year, on a specific day
He says "Happy Birthday" above her grave
To a corpse rotting underneath, that felt no pain
But was blissfully unaware of his suffering

And every year would you believe he shed tears
This helplessness he felt became his biggest fear
It flowed through his veins, a part of his blood
So in his misery he was so often misunderstood

And nobody knew, because he didn't tell
Of that one day he fell from His Grace to burn in Hell
He felt guilty, despite his hands being clean
He wasn't the killer but was haunted by that scream

The one he never heard

So many people wander, suffering alone
With memories untold, oh so broken and cold
Believing, knowing, that no-one cares
As they huddle by a fire hoping for a share

A little piece of that place called Heaven
Hoping that when they go, sins'll be forgiven
And hoping it's soon, praying that they'll be taken
Don't mean to be rude but in my eyes they are mistaken

How can someone who suffers be sent to God?
So many suffer and I think He just forgot
To come back to us, he's abandoned us
All we need is someone to turn to, somebody to trust!

How can someone so innocent and so **** beautiful
Be taken so easily, misplaced, a broken tool
Who when smelted, smelted down in the flames of Death
Be truly at peace with their last breath?

And leave behind a legacy in just one's heart
That to this very day still shreds him apart?
When this happened back when I was just twelve
And deeper and deeper into my skin I delve

Trying to find an answer to this riddle
Clench my teeth, with a blade and with my nerves fiddle
Trying to dig her out, she left me helpless
And I cut myself, self-destruct because I was helpless!

Kids at school they still tease me
Bully me
Laugh at me
Just to make me angry
Like all I want is just to be happy
But can you be happy when others aren't happy with me?

These are the words he wanted to say
Didn't want a warm welcome or biblical praise
He's just another broken kid with words to rhyme
I hope you understand, and thank you for your time
I believe this shall be my school poem performance.
Meagan Moore Jan 2014
We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon.
Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista.
It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again.

We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning.
Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog.
A mottled neophyte -
Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud.
Aching to kiss your skin -
In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence.
Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome.
Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus.
Its intent –
A veneration of you.
It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor.

The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today,
Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage
Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree
Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite
Atomic schism – silent but felt
It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency.
Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore.
Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis.
Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel

The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it.
Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse
Inverse thermonuclear fusion
It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.
Andrew Rueter Oct 2017
I shed tears
You shed humanity
I dread and fear
Your unstable insanity
You loosen your compassion
Like it's your belt
For it's in your fashion
To inflict welts
On the ground I knelt
Doubled over in pain
From a punishing rain
My eyes welled up and my vision got blurry
I was unable to break your encryption of fury
My mind was in constant examination
Of your gift of violent contamination
Lines were crossed on my back
Living life on your torture rack

You become my God
You never spare the rod
My brother may be able
But I'm on *******
I turned the tables
By torching my brain
On the ****** train
I invented a game
Out of ruining your creation
My veins experienced deflation
Until I saw the error of my ways
Adopting your negative craze
You wanted me to get used to pain
But I'd rather get used to change

The effects of corporal punishment are felt
When society hits us with a conveyor belt
Convincing us if something worked it must continue to
Our childhood experience this is imprinted through
We figure our children must be belted
After our minds have been smelted
Forged in fire
Our hearts retired
As we grew colder
The beaten grew older
And reproduced
And re-introduced
A punishing perception of the world
They beat the clam that holds the pearl
I don't hate you for not loving me anymore,
but I hate myself for still loving you.
I assure that every word in this,
Every single one, is true.
I love you so ******* much,
And I'm clinging on to hope,
But I'm starting to loose the will to live,
I've already tied my rope.
I probably won't do it,
I'll stop myself in the final seconds,
But death is constantly tempting,
"Come to me" he beckons,
I don't hate you for not loving me anymore,
But I hate myself, for everything I'm not,
Karma gave me all the bad luck,
I'm due some back, I guess she forgot.
I'm not the man I used to be,
I was improved by our passion,
I was smelted from our love,
Our happiness, and our compassion.
I will always be here,
Waiting for you to come back,
I'll be living my life, just not fully,
Because a reason is what I lack.
I used to have a reason, you,
But you're no longer there,
Just a scar on my heart,
Of which I'm proud to wear,
I don't hate you for not loving me anymore,
But I hate myself, for hating you,
I've somehow turned this pain into hate,
But this hate isn't real, just an attempt to pull through.
I will never hate you, I have nothing but love for you,
But this love is killing me, its tearing me apart,
Let me show you how to fall in love again,
Let me take you back to the start?
This poet decided against  
becoming a measly minced meaty morsel

undetected inauspicious augury
     assigning  adept
     aqueous ace AOL amphibian,
     who surreptitiously crept

to the secret crypt (guarded by
     foo fighters and amazing dragons)
     said gendarmes did except
special fluid scrip as egress into
     heavily fortified
     (with USDA recommended allowance),

thus when the configurative motley crue
including thyself (a bono fied doo
bee brother - long given up for lost,
     which "FAKE" oracle

     misinterpreted by a goo goo
doll, and cross dresser named Hugh
played being took a vow el,
     and hence consonantly knew
    
all along, i dwelt peacefully
     in a soundcloud loo
immensely spacious with ooh
dills of survival trappings

     purchased from  Peru
laborers treated by free pact
     guaranteeing a socially
     conscious shopper to rue

painstaking indigenous stoop labor,
     now stamped imprimatur could allow,
     enable and provide means to shoe
each formerly eczema dappled,

     cracked bare foot
     ah, a glimmer of hopefulness
     (upon this crowded house of a planet) view
which youtube snapchat ting

     reddit as joyous outlook
     sans linkedin shutterfly,
     twitter ring tender flickr ring shoots
     communicated an instagram message
     of hopefulness kickstarting optimism

versus the initial thread of this poem,
which to set this got off track
     (hinting at goal to be
     a paperback book writer wannabe)
rather than ending up as a byte size snack

     for a limbering beast, into whose tumblr
of one jagged razor sharp teeth
     like daggers lined up along a rack
     of reinforced steel maw,

     which bang for the bite did pack
leaves no room for bing a survivor
     as fierce jaws clamp down
     worse than getting steam rolled by a mack

truck, but subjected to thee yield,
     whence thousands of pounds
     per square inch of pressure  
     on par lambasted from Donald Trump flack.
Kelley A Vinal Jan 2017
Barefoot, skin sticking
Seriously, I can't pull up
Is it too cold? Like a tongue on an icy pole
Is it hot, melted metal
My soles are melting?
My soul being smelted
To get the good bits, throw the rest
Into the ocean
Shark fin heart
Shark tooth heart
Waste me at every part
This is me at my best, I guess
Not depressed
I just think
A whole lot.
******* a Ice Cube ya been done melted
smelted runnin' from death but ya dealt it
scared to come to the dark
cuz the lights will burn ya n turn ya
into a liquid from a solid state
create flows that make
earthquakes couldn't shake
the Real G Eazy E talkin' all that ****
in the N-W-A movie but that **** didn't move me
tryin' to ruin his legacy
knownin' you got kicked out
the group you ain't loc'd out
nothin' but a super *****
that go punk'd out
talkin' hard while puffin' cigars
on late night shows i be the black eagle
but we know ya scarred
from the streets of C-P-T
reppin' Compton but scared
to show up in Compton
like that ***** Dre **** what they say
we know ya skills ran to the house
in the hills welcome to the slaughter fields
cuz you know they gone ****
you workin' with them boys n blue
they shield you like common sense
said i can see the ***** in yoo
I got hunger like the aqua teen force
got credible source gotta make a corpse
shatterin' lucid dreams
**** yo team and cream
im exposin' ya  from scene to scene  
goin' up in ya raw with no vaseline


the bigger the black money
the bigger the sellout
who gives a **** about what
ice cubes talkin' bout?
knowin' you ain't a real G
tried to play like you a homie
wanna be the man in charge
but we know made a pact
with them devils
thats why you livin' large
you a Boy like George
went from Boyz 'N The Hood to Are We There Yet?
No longer a threat just another trained pet
claim you gotta set
but smilin' teeth gets you a movie script
**** yo vision im givin' tunnel visions
to those fake ****** grinnin'
im the grinch that stole christmas cuz i gotta long ****** list
takin' out fakes that what I Do?
even gotta posse how about you?
causin' wrecks like a crew dissin' jews
kind of ironic cuz they the same
******* that signed you?
ya fifteen minutes of fame soon to go in flames
changed ya name exposed ya self
now whats with these AKs on ya shelf ?
talkin' all hard **** gets you a casket
check my three heads in a basket  
a tisket a tasket cubes is a *******
migranes to ya membrane got ya throbbin'
see ya head in the barrel bobbin'
for apples wanted to be the G
in the spotlight stole
from the tree of life
now you hidin' in shame and strife
**** yo hollywood squares I grab a pair
of my nuts and let 'em hang til i bang
like a theory fakes fear me holla if ya hear me
thats just my gat talkin' chit chat
rat a tat tat tat down goes another black
fake hero when you really villian
i be the microphone fiend
goin' in raw with no **** vaselineeeee
Waking in the stagnant syrup, viscous in its compound, molasses for the profound
Met Anne soiling the jar as Mouschi and Boche wage war
Diary held in the family name, passages removed for the sanctity, of a lonesome father’s sanity.
Voided bowels kept in masonry, cemented, to the back, weeping out portals of light held through a crack.

Seems prosperity can be found in imposed seclusion, though not maintained until conclusion.
Turned over for turnip change, imposing on the Frank family a need to estrange
Left off to Poland to fumigate the air, stripped of the yellow star one’s required to wear.
Thrown into death in motion, avoid eye contact, and most kinds of commotion.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
The voided track clicked into a closed lane.
Hennessy held as operators quiver in alcoholic splendor.
Rolling thunder, click clacking for no gain.
Stationary tumble, fragments of ice kicked up from the blender.

Mrs. Garrett went to town on all the *****
Traded for at cost.
Pulverized **** gifted for a glimpse of ****
Snorted out with assembling frost.

Cannibals hidden amid the train car
Stored in S.S uniforms, to be smelted in coming years
Vocalizing incendiary bigotry meant to sour
Relieved transgressions…being deemed a response to fears.

Cruel, burnt ash floating from the cinders
Red-lit skyline resonant before sleep
Slave life held in mines, and retrieving timber
Sole remaining heirloom, the cloth from their feet.
Rockie Aug 2015
Man
His raven eyes would never see the light of day,
His heart as dark as the blacked out moon,
The weapons he mastered smelted down,
The children he fathered lost and found,
You wanted to see him locked up tight,
You couldn't have known he took his life,
Judge and Jury found him innocent,
Judge and Jury faced a fight,
Public policy said this wasn't right
Public policy told a story
Of the man that captured several views
Of several thousand million different few
That bothered to listen to the man
That changed the earth
For the better of our children.
Connor Feb 2016
The annual rose garden blushes beneath a soft dress
in May. My crooked puppet's shadow has subsided in the theater it came to make way for fairweather, protest, wet teal ink
flowering the walls as sunlight shines thru and the mechanical
blinking of shadowy eyes now spurred AWAKE.
An Appalachian mind gaze and spiderweb neon
smoke attaching it's warmth to every freckled cheek,
a mint kiss like the opening of a fir tree smelted into the
foggy earth.

Ceramics embroider the shop sills
and ceiling fans wave hello n farewell to every guest
each day longer than the last!
WANDERER slept
sound in the Nagakin Capsule Tower, few nights ago now,
had an idea, lost it, feather flowed it's way across Pacific
to my bedroom and I wrote about her here, and saw a Japanese tea ceremony flash by
her eyes/my eyes
a collective consciousness
sometimes years apart.

She, who's witnessed the debris of catastrophe,
standing over what was a golden vase
filled with Tulips
now ash, forgotten except for in a memorial vague outline
in the bewitched brain(s)
Visionary! Arms twitched to the rapture occurring in plain view of us all
VIOLIN rebounding intangible yet unmistakable sound
on a train in Tokyo city. Cement is damp with Spring's sweet rain,
her feet sore from all this walking!

I appreciate her travels, as they are at once my own,
a second-hand enchantment
the taste of green tea, cherries!
EXPLOSIVE FORMLESS ANIMAL WHITE
feather grazed my skin, startled.

This feeling??
something set free, a violent hue erratic
markings on the cave walls, the one from Plato's allegory,
watching fire light the shape of our bodies and some spectacular image displays itself invisible
but felt, undeniable!
Settled, fire transferred to our lungs.
We call this “ART”
we have left the cave, to Paris, to Senegal, to Jaipur,
to her and I and you.

Animal oh animal caged no longer,
howling paintings and smells to our eyes,
bitten our hands sharp with poetry,
this ghast who's empathy for strangers has made a rare few dizzy. Possession! Willingly accepted nocturnal entity and I write this because I can't help myself.

THIS IS WHAT CREATED THE MANDALA,
COLORS OF AN ANCIENT PEACOCK
LURKING WITHIN US TENDING THE FLORA
which takes inspiration from museums, from brief embers shot up in a chasm fireplace illustrating what we'll call Forever,
vocal alchemist who resides in descending faint harp and opera
a fountain in a mysterious lobby only visited by one person, once every few months,
birds shimmer in planted palms and a crystal ceiling expounds the details of travels to come,
an orb above like an observatory for our OWN universe.

APOLLO IN LAUREL
PIANO, ASIAN INFLUENCE,
Damien Hirst's “Beautiful darkness spreading to every corner of your mind painting"
framed holy upon the walls
Jean Cocteau's “The Blood of a Poet” projected also, side by side.
A painted face, a parrot imitating Sudhana

“This is the abode of those of unobstructed intellect and broad mind,
Enjoying the realm of space, free from dependence,
Penetrating all times, free from obstruction,
Clearly perceiving all being and becoming”
- Avatamsaka Sutra

I'm speechless!
She's speechless! Her Tokyo, admittedly imaginary. It's her private
Nagakin Capsule Tower. It's my private Temple, my private Cocteau,
shelves stocked with the poems I'll one day write.
Words which shall knock on my dented skull in sleep mostly, but other times I can't recall as of this moment (Get back to me in July)
retired to literary France
and caught in the quicksand of aging, perhaps medicine will be far along enough that I shall die at 173?
a stretch, but considering that sciences are pushing for immortality by 2045 (pfft)
we shall see.
(??)
Bearded and divine with love
and experience from Airplanes
free jazz, dramatics,
heart to heart, dense libraries,
evening walks to Montmartre
a hand to hold
a kiss to experience.
Meditations,
Rodriguez “Sugar Man” fades out
“Silver magic ships... you carry...”
Sung once by the European barista in British Columbia who kept me caffeinated with a double shot of espresso for guessing the song right which was playing..This just happened, but I realize it'll become such a faint memory by then.
Out and out and out and out there
Far beyond the reaches of consciousness that previously mentioned feather will gather with the other ideas and become the WHITE peacock, infinite.
Carrying us there as wintry atoms
snowdrops on it's back.
One life to another.
Selena Jun 2022
“looking back, we weren’t all that great for one another. you liked to be distant, i liked to overthink. you never told me what was wrong, i told you everything that was wrong. you were afraid of expectations, i expected to be loved the way i loved you.

i think even at the beginning i knew it may not quite work, but despite all our flaws i knew we had a spark, and i was determined to set that spark aflame. i fell in love with the idea of a flame that never came.”

Your lies charred holes that couldn’t be closed , who am I really convincing here , here at your every call I start to wither and fall , I’ve been running off an exhausted thought of you and me because every time I think of us I get a little stuck , you say you love me but her and her I cannot keep up with the way you love because the way you love and the way I love are two different ways I thought you could hang but it turns to play that every man will have his way

The way you smelted of liquor all day made me wanna go away even after all the failed attempts at asking I always tried to over communicate but I guess you really can’t change a man that doesn’t want to be changed. The way you held me late at night I thought that meant that you loved me the way I craved but deep down every day I knew I was deprived and my mind had to Play this game to convince myself that it was okay because you told me you loved  

The power those words held over me especially when they fell from your lips made me paranoid and frayed until the very next day you would convince the thoughts to go away you had your way with my mind and it made me cave falling to my knees for your every praise , you put my brain in a haze trying to read every ****** maze but unfortunately I could never find my way

My brain on the constant train is he thinking of me or her , god the way you’re not willing to change has me in a hold for days, but it’s okay as soon as you say even tho my feelings are still astray something you’ll always try to invalidate , I don’t know why I continue to stay
"...How terrible the stump of the woodmen,
     Their blunted shapes lumped under the sheets of snow..."
                         --Roy Doughty

From such a wrapping, the elegy proceeded,
the last blanket tucked below the bare
feelings extended, stripped of their green fingers like perception
following thought into deflection.  Abstractly, a silent museum
held power against the hill at a ***** of durable rock.  This
granite pulled thinking together in its form.

{ [ _ int f ( x ) d x d t = = del _ f ( x ) d g d E ] [ // ( y ; N , Z ) ] } .

It was allowed to like the experimental results of making lumps
under the sheets of summer, to be ironed and smelted
by the industry of the particular set, upon whatever planet
survival could be accepted, floating between work and the play
of its imagined universe, the sheets folded and placed

upon a shelf like numbers.
Daniello Mar 2012
Smalt sky smelted over running sky: swoop
down for me and switch (very lightly!) your blues.
(No dizzying aches, please, because of too much
hurled change, speeding spirant through my loops.
It would tunnel me, with its head, even more
abhorrently
in two.)

Okay, I’m—great!—upside down now, float splashing
with finned wings in cloud falls and snowy rapids!
Up above, before now I guess, was just a bedlam
like below, and below: just reflection of its head spun.
The running was glinting, mirrored tails shimmering
of wind fish. Believing them, I fed them, then laughed
under wet sun.

I am lying, truthfully. I am inside my house. There was
no sky or sea. Maybe somewhere, but not here. I think
of my love when I sit down. (I don’t really think
much anymore.) And the blues is a saying.
The dizzying aches I do have (It was a joke.)
and the hurled change I am is inside me making
me this.

My loops, me tunneled—that is no joke, that’s the
timelessly wrought result of extruding what hurts
from my sockets and chambers and lobes and pockets
and the given gifts to me I hated, never used, only
wished I could—I can’t—because I can never
pin me down. So they can’t be really
for me.

I am furiously disappearing in obfuscating, invisible,
paralyzed               paradoxical                paroxysms.
Such as: I am not here I am just here. Lying down
sometime. Today I think. On my bed. Napped or slept
or just wrapped. Barely awoken. And more gone.
Each day awake. Going.
More gone.
TJ King Mar 2013
News Flash:
                     Religious Science has created life!
                     With heat and pressure
                     and Sounds Sounds Sounds!

                     Watch their lead-boy
                     dance and sing
                     recordings placed in his
                                    chest
                   ­  by People Who Know.

                    Listen close
                    to his strictures about what
                    is abominable
                    you can hear their voices
                    in the crackling gray
                    noise:
                    
            ­        The buzzing of cieling fans
                     in offices far away, Oz
                     The humming chatter of
                     "The maid found a dove
                     drowned in the pool!"
                     "Oh, how unsanitary,
                      truely abominable."

                      You really should see
                       him dance
                       in the Starstudded Ballroom
                       where the wicked pace
                       in the side-halls
                       dreaming of childhood summers
                       at the lake
                       and kisses in the morning.

                       Holy Science has smithed life!
                       Holy bullets smelted a fine
                       man.
                       Wholy Holey Holy Bullets.
Marieta Maglas Jun 2015
''It's a fuel crisis, because of the lack of supply, ''
Said Athan, ''many mines exploit lead, copper, and iron.''
''They are smelted with charcoal, which only some people may buy, ''
Said Karsten, '' some people have the powers of a lion.''


'' There're heavy demands on the forests for building castles,
Cathedrals, houses, ships, mills, and machinery, '' said Cruz.
''The fuel for glass and brewing industries is on hassles, ''
Said Pedro, '' this drill of the coal deposits has an excuse.


I've heard the steam engine has a low efficiency.''
Tia said, ''overland costs of transport are very high.
English iron industries still lose proficiency.''
Megan said, '' this revolution adds up to one big lie.''



''I've heard that in Selanik Jews control the commerce, ''
Said Marco.''Greeks, Turks, Armenians, and Jews! '' Said Athan.
''All can thrive economically in Selanik,
Whether they read the Bible, the Torah or the Quran.''


Tia wore a fine golden silk brocade jacket having
A metallic gold floral lattice design and shape,
A petticoat of ribbed silk embroidered with silk yarn forming
Loops; its front fastened with clasps, tightened in back with cotton tape.


Karsten's navy blue, collar, cuffs, and skirts were embroidered
With cream silk 'point Beauvais' garlands of pearls and flowers.
Athan's vest of silk moiré and coat were pumpkin colored.
'Twas embroidered with silver thread and silver sequins.

Tia and Athan were in need of loans for short terms
While intending to bridge the time gap between the pay
Of taxes and the take of sums from the owners of some firms.
They traveled to find wealthy Muslims that loaned money.

''People can't pay heavy taxes and accrue deficits.''
''They must pay these sums even their finances are low.''
''All these payments are done for the Empire's benefits.''
''In this condition, Selanik will be a place left to go.''

‘'To prevent people from leaving, the Empire minimized
Their losses enacting kaskamot that obligates them
To pay and to leave behind a guarantor.'' ''It's civilized! ''
''If women and orphans can't pay, the Muslims don't condemn.''

''There're allowances for persons donating or loaning sums
And for philanthropic acts like the payment for the abject poor.''
''They take from any owner or any visitor that comes,
From birth, from death and from sacrifice passing the temple's door.''

'Gabella is a tax levied on the purchase of basic test
Kosher foodstuffs like wine, meat, and cheese.''
''Rich men pay instead of the poor men to prevent the arrest.''
''There're taxes for the goods that are brought from over the seas.''

''Here, new public buildings are built in the eclectic style
To project the European face of the Empire.
''Our monasteries are centers of learning for a while.''
''The head of the Orthodox Christians is like a Vizier.''

(Tia, Athan, Megan, and Karsten disembarked at Selanik while Frederick and some sail men went to buy fuel.)

(To be continued...)

Poem by Marieta Maglas
Joshua Adam Jul 2015
Seeking A True Soul Mate......


The girl of my dreams, who but she could understand
of that deep desire, as a burning fire, for her hand
her hand in friendship, her hand there always to hold
her hand in mine, our souls as one, smelted as with gold

The girl of my dreams, who but she could understand
always to be by her side, never to run and never to hide
a true soul mate, through thick and thin, oath of a bride
with trust and loyalty that only loving souls could abide

The girl of my dreams, who but she could understand
that growing void in my conscience, is but a reflection of my fear
a fear that paralyzes my ability, preventing me to express my care
but you are my healer and rightfully so, to whom my heart calls dear

You girl of my dreams, were created as perfect as can be
given a mission to help me be complete, and to eventually see
your love and warmth, these qualities how they do provide
this ability for me to overcome, my own shallowness resting inside

You my better half, fashioned for me, by whom else but the One above
my life has new meaning, since you choose to share with me your love
know my dear this truth, even if my love for you could be divided in two
nothing would change, for it could never remove all the love I have for you
A Short Love Poem Looking for The Girl of My Dreams
Munchkin Aug 2014
I wonder how it feels
To be none but yours
To hold your hand
To call you mine and I yours

I wonder how it feels
To kiss your crimson lips
To feel your burning touch

I wonder how it feels
To say I do
To none but you
On a warm summer night

I wonder how it feels
To fabricate a life
To build a home

I wonder how it feels
To find tears
In the brightest rooms

I wonder how it feels
To break
When you were sure
You were made of steel

I wonder how it feels
To be smelted
Yet again
To a form you never knew

I wonder
How i wonder
How it feels
To be loved by you
noruwei Apr 2014
"For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return."
GENESIS 3:19

because who knew
that the bones of gods were made of glass?
that they'd shatter upon impact with marble floors
that if you smelted them they'd become indistinguishable
with silica bits from sandy coasts
that you would have to
sweep up the shards
before a child could slice his fingers upon their many edges
and bleed?
figured it was worth a try, and
it was.
your body was so light, for once
and before you knew it you were
flying up,
out of this place that the angels left
long ago.
originally npwm 20
Twist my arm and break my back,
let the salt and the brine Float into my senses
and the broken particulate spread into my toes.
Dig that oily mass into my flesh and deteriorate my cells
dissolve my ether
ooh
let the howl of your generators flush over the break of waves
and drill into my eardrums the winds of my mountain.
I just want your purple, smoky blues without
the greys and the sheen of oils on my skins
spread over my feathers
drowning me in my own element.
You're fire, metal
warped transitions of nature flexing your synthetic muscles in my face.
Sorry, bro, I'm just not into that.
Turn around,
take your auto-clogged
smelted bull to the sun and
incinerate yourself
I'm tired of your leering, thirsty eyes.
I'll give you water till you drown but
you'll still drink you greedy whale.
at least whales know how to keep the balance.
Jenish Jan 2020
Long long ago in a lonely lovely hill
When earth was young, handsome and green
Besides the meadow near the curly winding flow
There stood a tree proudly high and spry.

Swaying and dancing in wheezy pleasy breeze
Never was he still, always in a swing.
Not even a speck, not a little flea
Never allowed any, sitting in his spray.

Winder came to hinder, pouring all her snow
Our tree kept fighting, throwing all his snow.
Jutting high he stood, leafy and green
In the midst of an ocean of falling snowy flakes.

Two little sparrows, flying from the north
Searching for a shade in that minacious wind.
Saw the mighty tree, swiftly they descent
Nestled in his branches to save their little lives.

Before they could settle, hurled to the ground
Without any mercy, our dancing prancing tree.
Again they tried, again thrown to ground
Again and again, bereft of any kindness.

Tired and puffing that little sparrow mother
Sprawled on his feet fighting for her breath.
Two tiny pearls rolled from her eyes
Smelted on his foot with her warmth and pain.

Dazed and watching, the mighty tree stood
Feeling all the pain the little creature bear.
Heavy at his heart, Heavy was his branches
Forlorn and silent, melting hefty heart.

The feathery teeny couple, eyed the tree quiet
Perched on his branches, prudent and happy.
Later on that day, picking twigs and leaves
Weaving with care, they made their winsome nest.

The dotish dancing tree, spying all their actions
Tussled with tempest, stayed there without motion.
Not a single leaf, not a petty branch
Not even a sigh, he uttered without care.

The pair of lovely birds, huddled in their home
Shared lovely blankets, spreading wings and feathers.
Peeping through his leaves and crimson little branches
He watched the birds slept, with a sense of love.
  
Teeming deep-felt care, bearing flakes and fall
Proud dancing tree, stood there rapt and frozen.
Winter slowly left and the spring was yet to come
The tiny sparrow mother, laid three wonder eggs.

Hugged and rolled in love, day and night in hurry
Feeble tweets and cry, woke the vigilant tree.
Weeny songs of love, doting brush of quills
Tiny goofy beaks, jutted from the nest.

Like a foster father, our tree stood blessed and chilled
Wished to rock and spin, but moved not in the least.
Time kept flying away, spring came dazzling in
Pretty little chicks, learned to flutter and dance.

Rapture spilled around, florets blossomed out
Covered nacarat flowers, stood he shy and blushed.
Chasing flies and bees, singing songs of love
They float around their grandpa, lovely wonder kids.

Swinging salmon fruits, he fed the little birds
Bowing head and pride, with a dancing heart.
The naughty sparrow chicks, poohed on his branches
But the mighty tree, never mind their doodles.

As the wings got stronger, they soared high and far
On the vicinal lands and to the distant shores
Sailing wonder worlds, flying with their dreams
But never forgot to return, for a goodnight sleep.

On to the cerulean sky, not any farewell words
The happy little family, one day flown and gone.
Watching day and night, our doomed dancing tree
Waited for their return, dreadful and as dead.

Sun shed all his splendors to wake and make him happy
Dismal clouds cried, drenching him in showers.
Winter came and poured, covered him in snow
The dancing tree never moved not a single leaf.

From distant snowy clouds chirping sounds he heard
Woken from his slumber, shaking all his snow.
In wheezy pleasy breeze, swayed and danced in glee
Waited for the couple and one more tale of love.
ryn Sep 2022
Molten stories smelted
and poured like ashened gold.

We turn to paper
as coffers for lesser ingots - old.

In hopes to lessen;
nay, diminish thy gaping hole.

In hopes to relinquish
and set free caged memories stole.
Sombro May 2017
What's a ferrous person
Doing here, they asked, those bars of gold
Clutching iron filings as if seeking to squeeze some life into them
Some heat
I clenched my teeth,
Furious

Snobbish, looking down on baser metals,
Mixing only with the company of diamonds
I pulled no punches, held my fists
Red while they jeered
The cracks of ore in my coat
Furious

I bandied through their
Glittering parting like oil and water,
Sliding off me like I wished their wit might,
White hot and flaming, cracking brittle,
Fragile filings
Melting furious

Uncontrollably smelted
Hammered by their eyes
Clenched by their sneers
And burned, scalded, reshaped, reheated
Abused
Scarlet-whipped and chamber fitted

A drill, to reform to a drill,
Aimed at
Softer metals, I
Turn on them, they
Shy away, anxious not to mix
With baser metals, throwing
Iron filings to the floor,
To the earth
Where gold wishes it could be

My jewelry
A bit aggressive, this one, but I'm stressed :)
Spring Bright Sep 2016
I hear your squirrel faced inflected scorn
But I am not the subject of your masquerade
There is no running from the truth within my circle
There is no hiding from the harm you've made

With nothing of the fearful scribe in me, I have become
Your challenger, your truth teller, your unveiled voice
Of revocation, Justice long denied has hurried home
To my protestations, my unyielding force for choice

There is not one obliquely terrifying word you've fumbled
That has found solace within my intentions
No remorse at hearing your lewd, vile inventions
Your nasty woman-hating world will crumble

In the blast of my ice poured upon your blather
Do you hear the drums of sweet November call?
There you will be tossed and tumbled
In reality you are no kind of man at all.

No kind of man we would embrace for any price
Though you cling fast to every dollar in your grasp
Wring benefits unearned from others, squeezer, vice
But never leader, only backward stretching wasp

Bring out your ugly legionnaires of doom to face the music
Of the young, the elderly, the strong against your hooded lies
Those who long for justice aim to curb you and your avarice
Bring here your crippled trumpet too be smelted in our fires

For every child of every mother, every sister, every brother
Father, will take no prisoners, but free the wrongly caged
To fill your coffers slaved the migrant, not today
And never more shall we sit quiet in our  rage.

I call you traitor to your country, traitor to your college students
Traitor to investors, every one. You plan to win.
It's now your time of trials will begin.
Expect that it will never end.
Maduchi Aug 2019
There had been and in days we were in distress
On a highway zigzagging steeply down into darkness
Letting truth roll off your back like water
Stones that make a river strong were put in order

Like waters we were formless and shapeless
Our presence's absence in the eyes of princes
From the source of a fountain we were mixed with mud
From a foetus in a womb to the world a lad

Swayed back & forth from side to side
Like winds with no direction forests slowed us down
Excitement, a friend of death, brought forth a tide
Whenever we rose up gravity pulled us down

But like a hen hatches eggs, like a rose sprouts petals
Like a seed germinates, or in the sand finding glittering diamonds
The Most High then pulls us out of the furnace
And like smelted and refined gold, we ought to dwell in His embrace
GOD carries me like an eagle
Star Gazer Apr 2016
I don't know if you felt it,
The way that my heart melted,
Like cheese on a summer surface
Just trying to find a purpose.

I don't know if you felt it,
The way our bonds just belted,
Restraining our two souls together
Wondering if it is for the better.

I don't know if you felt it
Like an ore and a rock smelted
We succumbed and fell apart
Now there's a break in my heart.

I don't know if you felt it
The way that my heart melted
Like cheese on a summer surface
Struggling to find any purpose.

**I don't know if you felt it.
Jason Jan 2021
Silence can be an impassable shield,
Or an effortlessly piercing spear, 

Barricaded behind this bulwark,
One can strike without fear. 
 
Assaulting these stony crenellations,
Any enemy is made the fool, 

Stones and arrows fall lifeless,
But beware this entropic tool. 
 
Smelted in fires of wrath,
Forged by hammers of pain, 

Tempered in a bath of mistrust,
Sharpened by challenge refrained...
 
It leeches hope, returning nothing,
Depleting both meaning and life. 

Equally capable of smothering the self,
As it is of stifling strife. 
 
Leaving warriors trapped in their castles,
Battlefield abandoned, bodies tossed, 

Besieged by a war of attrition,
That can neither be won nor lost.
© 01/09/21 Jason R. Michie All Rights Reserved
Bryan Nov 2017
I found the room was gone,
leaving my head spinning.
I was standing near a mountain,
vast chasm grinning.
Lamps within the cavern
took their turns dimming
as the wind teased their flames:
The tongues of dragons spitting.
I flew back into my head
as I heard the rock splitting.

So The Queen hides herself
beneath a mountain's peak...
I knew of only one summit
she could reach at any speed.
Suddenly, I was filled
with a sense of dire need.
Righteous rage, smelted anger,
rose to bloom inside of me.
The weight of knowledge,
and of hope,
forged a blade of urgency.
Is this blade of mine a tool?
Is pressing rage a strategy?
...Or am I forced to play the fool?
Is this tale a tragedy?
While I reacted to the visions,
I shook violently,
and heard the gurgle of the beast,
as he breathed in labored heaves.

"Listen filth;
He who is made of dead leaves,
if only for the reason
he is what the worms eat.
There is less purpose for you
than there is for rotted meat.
Why are you so intent
on that I try and I succeed?
What business is it of yours,
I wield a sword against The Queen?"

At every curse uttered,
Rumpelstiltskin seemed to lean
a little lower, in the shoulders,
like the sadness of defeat,
but once again, he drew the curtain,
his demeanor growing mean.
He looked stronger in his anger
than anyone I'd ever seen.

"Do you not know yet, Royal One?!?"
He exclaimed explosively.
"Do you not think that I take notice,
When I see you pity me,
And insult me, and degrade me,
Simultaneously?
What was it you said
the first time you heard me speak?
I greeted you as friend,
and I repulsed you instantly!
If I have anger, and I do,
it is for she who made this be..."

The answer satisfied more
than my curiosity.
I almost pitied him then and there,
but for the mention in his speech,
the maniacal in his eyes,
the pain hidden beneath.

It is that way I recall him,
Looking back in memory,
And it is that way he stood silent,
As I took my quiet leave.
Like a tree, where once was forest:
Too lonely there to grieve,
and no reprieve in the weather,
only wave and wave of heat.

I peered into the mirror,
and saw that same look upon me.
T R S Oct 2019
Brazen molten filigree sorries
Shelfed themselves on the edge of a shore made
of stickers and shapely woman.

Before I begin my crayon scrawlings,
I have a question.
A smart one that knows to gnaw on the back of my head...

"How do we know when we're alive?
And how do we know when we're dead?"

— The End —