"souring" poems
of this wilting wall the colour drub
souring sunbeams,of a foetal fragrance
to rickety unclosed blinds inslants
peregrinate,a cigar-stub
disintegrates,above,underdrawers club
the faintly sweating air with pinkness,
one pale dog behind a slopcaked shrub
painstakingly utters a slippery mess,
a star sleepily,feebly,scratches the sore
of morning. But i am interested more
intricately in the delicate scorn
with which in a putrid window every day
almost leans a lady whose still-born
smile involves the comedy of decay,
6.3k
Wilted flower, ageless in
A time of frailty, never wishing
For her glow to fade, but
Every flower wilts over time.
She was weak in sympathy
Seeing everyone though her
Outer shell was, of ill taste,
Souring there eyes.
So those of younger skin she
Spat upon in hated gestures,
Until she could not see beauty,
Only those having what had
Faded upon her over time.
She was a seamstress of cloth,
Fashion was in her eyes, beauty
For beauty now all was bland
As her image tainted, She was
Upon a plan.
She would take beauty from those
Unworthy souls, who abused the
Gift for it should be collected,
Harvested, so began her crime.
The first was a nose, cut off still
Breathing jagged edges ruined.
She slashed upon beauty as stillness
Settled in there eyes. Like a canvass
Now ruined, ugly in her sight,
Discarded in to the river the fishes
Feasting upon her crime.
She harvested, parts each dead
for moments but stillness brought
precision, each flawless gem, with
Precise loops each part fell in to place.
She only needed one more ,the lips
So delicate, so fragile. She carved
So many kisses from the bodies,
But never the correct, impatient
She became, enraged with failures.
Her moments of rage, became news.
"The patch work doll"
"The seamstress of beauty"
She liked this name for beauty
Was a puzzle that she stitched
Together to hide the ugly inside.
Then upon those fated moments,
"Excuse me do you know the"
Her mind forgot to listen, transfixed
Upon those ruby gems, Yes ill
Show you the way.
"Thank you mam"
Ill fated beauty, single breathes to
Take. These where her jewels of
Her crown as each most delicately
Removed, stored so not to break.
The patchwork was finished, **hideous
Monstrosity** of flesh dead, but she
Revelled upon her creation. Missing
The point that she was only faded inside.
She wore this mask, **the seamstress of
Beauty** now wore the blood of others
Upon her face, each was a life taken
For this moment in the mirror, she
Looked upon in happiness, in joy
Of others pain, but the moment faded.
All she saw was others, her beauty hidden
Upon the stiches of others face, she
Couldn't see herself only the faces of
Each life she did take. The lips moved
Spoken words upon this face, you want
This beauty take it cut it with the knife.
She cut upon this mask, deep cuts
Upon her own self, the mask fell
To the floor, spare parts of meat.
She cut around, bleeding down
Kissing the floor as it fell. Till she
Stood there, her skin, meat upon
The floor.
Those final moments the seamstress
Saw she was beautiful, that it was
Underneath that was what she had
Missed, so much beauty spilled for
What, as she ran screaming towards
The window.
Like a mirror shattering shards
Showing her a reflection of the beauty
She had become, she was the seamstress
Of many faces but know only one
Face hits upon the unforgiving ground.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
There were gnomes within
The abyss
Crying because they had
No way home
Cowering below water
Trout wipes
Spawning the souring eggs
They laid
Sun-shower clouds spawn
On and on and on
Crying beyond the fathom
Of the Heavens
Armadillo shrimp sunbathe
The bubbling sea bath
Trout wipes' infectious wrath
Drift off current
Tremble off the beat
Induce a treasuring smile
Recover from the bipolar company
Trout wipes
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
The little girl
wearing a Navy blue dress
with a white collar
and black patton shoes
holds a red
helium balloon
as she walks down a path of clouds
through the vast wilderness
of space and time
representing life on overtime
a second home on a lake
a souring career
living with a man she is married to
but doesn't love anymore
and may never have
sings the song
"Twinkle Twinkle , Little Star"
and she is wondering
just how far
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 5:54 AM UTC
Sunshine and grog
Dancing through thick fog
Midst over mountains
Shimmering gold in fountains
The feeling of serenity
Calmness and warmth
Soul inspiring
Never expiring
Enthrall me within
Give me that special grin
Always without sin
Purity so complete
Never to defeat
Warriors heart inside
I'll never abide
With man's side
I am wild and free
I am a cold winters breeze
A storm of brim and stone
Ashes flung and flown
I am a witch burning
Never returning
To their master
I will run faster
You cannot stop me
Stinging like a bee
Souring with graceful ease
I am a fairie never to please
I will use my sword
I will say my words
With passion and curse
Do your absolute worst
I am me
And she is free
Maybe only inside
In my own mind
But she you will never find
She is but mine
A special kind
A loving mother
In which moss takes cover
Leave it lone
She is alone
But pain is gone
For peace is beauty
And green is all she can see
That is me
I am green with grass
Yellow with daisies
And free with fairies
Loved by many
And giving so much
I am glee
And complete
With me
On my own
Aug 19, 2022
Aug 19, 2022 at 3:15 AM UTC
Entering the room, sharing the tentative first kiss of the day,
Your lips beckon me closer, and as i sit i see forked lightening behind your eyes.
You are a storm, waiting to be unleashed,
The steam of your breath sending a chill through me, i awaken.
Though when i wake i find that the dream is real,
I smile, watch the storm and find myself amazed by your pristine beauty,
Down to every little blemish you can no longer hide,
Now my eyes are used to the dark.
I hear thunder, sparks fly when you touch me,
And the gentle moans make me feel alive once more.
And here's the strange part,
Once it is done and you're purring softly, happy to sleep,
I move to leave, thinking my purpose to you is done, no longer needed.
She brushes my arm and says "stay with me, even 5 minutes more"
What bashful eyes you have when they look into mine,
A curious surprise, i am no longer needed, i am wanted.
I am no longer needy, but i want for her like one who is tired of being cast away.
5 minutes passes in a blink of your electric eyes,
and soon you plant the most gentle of kisses on my lips,
I try to keep the wind from souring this most blessed goodbye,
But i feel you shiver.
I tell her she should go back to her room,
And she kisses me once more, her eyes smile, and i walk away.
Her words still ring in my ears, echoes in a happy heart.
"What do you want me to be?" i ask her, she knows i'm broken.
"I want you to be you"
"What do you want me to do?" i ask, her hand in mine.
"Make love to me," i relive these moments, and the memory salves me,
Time, people say, is a great healer, he seems to be in Fast-forward.
We sail in time, on our little rafts,
And this castaway found another such lonely soul, Drifting on the waves.
Such beautiful coincidence, that we should dip our toes in the same Ocean.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 10:02 PM UTC
there is one truth of which i'm incandescently certain and that's that nobody can take away a truth as it darkens, a galaxy in a glass; and the truth is that i'd be the only ***** donor in a charity just for you because signals and signs have showed me your soul and you're grander than celestial poles
if i didn't know any better i'd suggest you're the sun and i'm the solar system and i orbit around you and i'm not too sure about humans having wings but imagine:
a snowy cabin some place away from civilisation, you and i and wholehearted communication, you and i and books and fictional integration, you and i and mind blowing realisations, you and i and wings outstretched souring across nations
you are the sun and i am the solar system and although i orbit you i'm never allowed to brush the surface, i'm guessing it's for a purpose so i admire from afar, a gaze stretched over constellations and the sound of your voice bouncing off stars into my hemisphere of tangled webs and ripened tears, the echoing trailing behind merely a souvenir
there is one truth of which i'm incandescently certain and that's this:
the only reason my brain hasn't stopped my heart from beating is because the thoughts of you are giving it meaning and it's hard to breathe with these overwhelming feelings but i'm coping because the broken glass holding my galaxy is healing
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
when aborted day
is given chance to rise
sun being blood red
life giving way for dead
with seas boiling over
and the artic becoming
a lush verdant green
your senses don't betray
leaving would be keen
Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 8:49 AM UTC
While we are all just atom snowmen,
sometimes I have to be
the arsonist of your emotions.
To make the atomic bits, flick out, vibrate
in order to light this ether atmosphere,
see what you really are,
to give me that warm feeling inside.
Sometimes I have to be
the stone that breaks your window.
The irreversible souring your view,
of your perfect, affectionate, color.
I take a breath of your summer field
and forests and farms
and exhale it as winter, deadwood and cold air,
your horses all un-made,
into glue, cat food, and violin bows.
Sometimes I have to be
A spiked cocktail.
Sipped on in words
finding again better, that familiar sweetness
but finding yourself, not yourself, anymore.
All just because you left your love wanting
alone on the side of a bar
and I found it.
Sometimes I have to be
that step you don’t expect at night.
Of course I’ll act like an accident,
letting the idea slip through
a gas leak flooding the room
silently, imperceptibly, changing things,
I’m good enough you will never know it,
and it’s you who’ll spark it.
Sometimes I have to be
father of the utilized disease.
A cough gives it birth,
a bark and a hack makes it airborne
incorporates a bacteria culture into yours.
This DNA affixed of word nucleotides,
embedded in the head of a virus
which will, just sometimes, exponentially, continually,
manipulate.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC
the basement is full of smoke.
i'm hiding from my mother,
clutching a half-full pack a girl gave me before i left.
you are here like vapor.
like displaced sound, a crash from behind while i watch fireworks,
unnoticed sensation,
a spider on the neck while i brush my hair.you are always here,
the smell of nail polish after the red has dried.i can hardly remember how you
really were, how i really felt - you're a strange reaction,
waking up crying and feeling calm.you were not true to me;
true to yourself but never me {or maybe i never noticed,
angry that you changed.}
your memory lives in the nape of my neck,
pained and sore,
stiff after sleeping with my head bent in shame.you are perfume,
thirty bottles, thirty people you wanted to be,
thirty scents mixing and souring in my room.my own blood before i met you,
dry rust on paper, a spell i stopped believing in
before i could finish.
the stars undid themselves when i struck a match.
the moon embraced me when i prayed, and now
i burn my fingers on lighters
and try not to cry over
cold moons.
rituals were comfort.incense smoke,
quartz in the mouth.maybe i never truly believed but
meaning is appealing, solid,
warm weight to fill uncertainty's pit.maybe you were the same.you filled me,
made me feel meaningful, needed me.
sobbed as you tried to eat me alive, i cant blame you.
we all need something -
you need to be coddled.you need a thousand mothers
taking every blow for you.
i need to be idolized, worshiped, constantly assured that i am wanted
but not needed.
we're both selfish, we're both jealous.
monsters in human skins,
using each other and killing ourselves.
green-eyed and growling.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
where did all the dreams go.
once soaring
over river sea desert arctic ocean
roots and veins
deserted glistening ringing
over yellow red and purple
poppy fields temptatious shimmering
now I am souring
I ate the forbidden fruit
and rather than being sweet
it was sour.
where did all the dreaming go.
I recall transversing convoluted causeways
unconscious
uncontrollably wandering then falling
toothless
standing amidst the spider king
I ask if I can bring a date to the wedding
the king replies, 'No, and I hath stolen the ring!
you must sing for me, lest be spun and forever left undone.'
and rather than being sweet,
it was sour.
where did all the dreams go.
I recall traveling charging at the one
the one was forever in my view.
I challenged the one
cross-eyed concupiscent cyclopian nightmare,
the siren song always draws me in
and rather than being sweet.
It is sour.
*I wake up and think rather than say,
are we all not just elegant decay?*
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
Gather round and listen to my stories of of yesteryears, of dragons in the mountains and mermaids on the shore
Yes, these tales are true, I saw a mermaid once as she lay upon the sand, instead of legs a fishes tail in colours of every hue
Ah yes tis also true that I once entered s dragons dark lair, his eyes were like firery brimstone, the foul stench of his breath filled the air
My friends gather round a bit closer while I tell you of things in the night, I once watched five faries dancing, like fire flies lighting the dark
Now have any of you seen a unicorn? Pure white, a single horn on his head. Well I was lucky enough one to ride one. The first man ever to mount that wild beast
OK, so you think my words are the words of a fanciful fool but I have suffered from the dragon and yes, bruises when from the unicorns back I did fall
I've heard the mermaid singing sweet love songs, her songs floating out cross the sea. I've seen the dragons souring on leather wings as they float cross the sky
In my pocket a scale from the mermaids tail and a scale from the dragons dark lair. Round my neck hangs a cord that I braided. Braided from unicorns hair
My friends these stories I tell you, every word I've told you is true, I would never cheat or deceive you, with tales from my yesteryears
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 2:52 PM UTC
As a resident of hope village be very thankful -
If for breakfast you have just a cup of water,
Say a big prayer to Baba and be very grateful.
Know ye that someday things will get better!
When stock in Hope Village, be very grateful!
I once lived there and boy, life wasn't so easy,
I remember how I would look so very sorrowful,
Using a bowl of water to shave, that's crazy!
Especially when I used old T-shirt as towel,
And rotated an umbrella as part of my roofing
life was hard but hope was on another level,
I knew that answer to my prayers was coming.
Despite the fact that I lived in abject poverty-
Hope made my condition seemed less pathetic -
All my situation was under God's own authority,
And my goals and objectives were authentic.
Never give up, hardship is only a transit camp.
One day your rescue Angel will come souring,
With solutions illuminated with a bright lamp-
Lights you'll always need as you go hustling!
To the residents of Hope village, never despair-
If wind of change is yet to blow in your direction,
Stay strong Hope village, real rescue is in the air,
It surely will if the Almighty is your connection.
I see you are a resilient bunch, so be very strong!
Though trials will come, hold on and be resolute,
Blessing for those with deep hope never goes wrong,
From a veteran of the movement, I say a big salute!
I pray you will keep to the fundamentals of hustle -
Know that on that very special day of God's reckoning,
Your stars will dance to success' beat, not struggle,
And the village's talking drums will echo your blessing.
Everyone far and near will know reward time has come.
People of hope village, come get your reward for courage,
Say goodbye to yesterday and say to tomorrow, welcome!
Soon, your last sight of the mango trees in your village-
Will be a breathtaking thirty five thousand feet far below.
As the white magic bird climbs hosting your dusty heels,
Sad faces will say bye and friendly faces will say hello.
There you'll know how the answers to your prayers feels!
Someday you will return as a great hero to your village,
To lament on the audacity of hope and your very own story -
With motivational messages to give everyone some courage,
Poverty will no longer be the main topic, it'll be history !
#Vanguard-poetry23
twitter @ivanclappers
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
The roaring sea collides on the rocky shores
As we watch
From heights above
Inside the lighthouse
Between us stands a cool breeze of harmony
Wondering
To take this relationship further
Perfect are we
A bond so unbreakable
Eternity carrying
As hearts renew
Our words be timeless
Lifelines singling out
To someone not true
Deception
Is a honey bee sting
Flavoring a taste
So souring to be turned out
Enviable confinement
A query so embracing, I rather not
Who else
Can interchange a dominance of passion
Sep 8, 2009
Sep 8, 2009 at 9:03 AM UTC
I am made of mountains
which do not merit their trek,
slumps pregnant with swamps
bubbling ‘round souring slop,
flatlands so parched they cough
as the pustules burst.
I am petals so withered
they perpetually sulk,
shunning the warmth
so to sigh in the soil.
I am blackened fruits
weighing down weary trees.
The flies do not flock to me.
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 3:27 AM UTC
Trust me, trust no one
Darkness is the game
Lights off, will they come on?
Or will they stay the same?
You follow her down,
She runs, you fall
Pleasure is her only call
Echoed walls, cry aloud
She fails to hear them, anyhow
Why can't she see, see through the clouds?
She sails around them, even now
Visions of collisions come crashing through
Like a souring secret straight to you
Serpent searching for slithers of light
Split between what's wrong and right
She edited the evidence of perilous plights
Despite insight, she willed what the might
Still you followed into her crippling realm
Henceforth, her kingdom remains, bow down, all hair
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
There's beauty in sorrow,
if you don't let it grind you down.
I wanted freedom,
But I have been trapped
Between a rotting lemon
And a hard place
For my bones of glass
To bask in the sun.
There's beauty in sorrow,
if you don't let it grind you down.
I wanted shelter
From the acid rains
That came spitting out
Of their ignoble mouths,
Pattering upon my rind
And souring the lemonade.
There's beauty in sorrow,
if you don't let them grind you down.
I wanted love,
But there wasn't any rainbow
At the end of that
Cursed *** of gold
They're all chasing feverishly.
There's beauty in sorrow,
I tell myself, lying as I see nothing else.
Apr 9, 2024
Apr 9, 2024 at 11:27 AM UTC
We are all but
hanging
from
a
thread
as our lips seal
behind thick black string
flesh made raw by shards
of heavy rope
ensnared by echoes of all
opposing voices
seem to come from
all sides-
but are, rather,
those of the
loudest protesters
out of sheer frustration
that we still find
ways to shine
in our music-
angry, spoken word,
**** RIOT
rant filled
in our art-
graffiti on your capital
desecrating your
male saints
streamed through your
safe airwaves
******* up your
perfect hegemony
livening your
boring missionary
bedrooms
bleeding in your
just-washed white
sheets with my girl
friend and her boyfriend
In our poetry-
CAPITALIZED, misspelled,
profane-fuck-out of syn
tax
without filter
in red paint
on sidewalks
in newspapers
on bookshelves
in magazines
on flyers on
our lips in our
hearts
screaming
crying
laughing
soaring souring
soar-
ing
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 4:19 PM UTC
can't shake the feeling that i'm not enough
and no-one else has anything better to say
on the subject;
she feels like being hypnotized and when i
look in her eyes i don't know if she's real
or not, i've been down this road before. is
she a pretty face i'm stealing glances of
or is she a figment? oh, what a shame.
god, she's like a glass of red wine sitting
against my lips, souring every kiss, and just
like wine i'm gonna disappoint my lover by
taking another sip.
i feel so full of wreckage and broken glass i
think tonight i'm in over my head.
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 7:41 PM UTC
love that is generous
and waits not
for a thousand little things
to feel diminished
love that speaks openly
rather than store up
the souring years
of unsaid bitter trifles
love that enjoys
it is returned
knows that it is unique
yet may not be the only one
love that does not possess
and has no need to rank
itself on a monopoly
carrying the seeds of self-defeat
love that gives freely
and takes in alike
but never needs
to add up scores
is such a love
inhuman?
* * *
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
:
*Though sunny the days of cloudless expanse
in fields lowly rutted with fear
Down footprints of mud in a circular dance,
a garden now beckons my dear
A wood picket fence and a hedge overgrown
beyond an old gate bearing rust
That cringes and creaks near the wicked seeds sown
about northern winds once were ******
Vines cling an arbor in strangling grip,
creeping like worms neath your feet
Proud of their thorns and the flesh they do rip,
souring fruits ever sweet
Step into this realm where petals now bleed
with faces apart from the norm
On barbed wire stems of a nevermore need,
now cast of an unending storm
Awaits there child with a part in her hair
and roots tethered deep to the ground
A bouquet of pain offered up, if you dare,
in silence she speaks without sound
Come follow this path of a nightmarish dream,
where nothing that lives ever dies
But hold tight your tongue for she hates when you scream,
the girl with the blackberry eyes*
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 1:43 PM UTC
Tears, Tears
pouring from my eyes
drowning all my fears
Words, Words
so many souring through
my mind like a flock of birds
Scissors, Scissors
slicing my skin
until I cannot feel anymore
Blood, Blood
flowing freely from my cuts
creating a crimson flood
Pills, Pills
the bottle now empty as time
begins to go still
Black, Black
is the last thing I see
before I realize there is
no going back
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC
Another year bygone,
faiths tested, minutes wasted,
hours lost yet the seconds survived.
unfulfilled wishes, the abandoned hope,
the souring dreams, the expectations that rose.
a broken heart, the shed tears
the lost smile, the happiness i fear.
a series of triumphs, hosts of despair
longing for laughter, an escaped prayer
not everything ends up being fair
the losses mourned, and the treasured gains,
oh those lovely walks in the rain,
the wind on my face,
the life we live as a race
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
Love was once pure,
But now not to sure.
With Lies as the truth,
And sneaking around to be smooth.
Cheating when love is lowering,
And making the other start crying or souring.
I don't want that negative in my life,
I just want to be someone's lovely wife.
That's why I will always remain true,
Because I don't want to make your life blue.
I will try my best to stay 100% honest,
But not every relationship is flawless.
I will love you forever,
And that's a promise, not breaking whatsoever.
We can be the new Romeo and Juliet,
For my love will never burn out, unlike a cigarette.
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 6:04 PM UTC