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"starbursts" poems
stars and radio master intercloud motion—1000 light years in most directions. However, I am still blind to anything but you. This dark matter aloha steps off my mind’s plane into the muggy air. A string of flowers is placed around my neck, and I look up— starbursts spit their rings violent and central—your body in music. Now, tropical space—population one. A tear rolls down my face onto the runway—I can’t remember the sound of your voice.
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Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 3:31 PM UTC
Your body in music
I am Bear Lady and you are Toucan Man — Fur and feathered backs against a striped tent. Cut-off like tickets, crowds melting Dali-like in the distance from crystalline eyes, frozen in time… Wings graze skin and fur can’t compete. The electricity of our eccentricity is freakish, yet with every touch, I feel less like a freak. My history of hoop jumping tightrope walking, and captivity dissolve transparently as I search deep,                 deep,             deep, into supernova eyes — they outshine this circus life, this love for applause, the performance inside. As I gaze into frozen pools, the broken chords of carny music da da da-da-da-da drown. The morning quiet, muddled coffee grinds are sensitive and silent, chilling me to the soul. Earth, a peripheral, to pupils that absorb mine full-force, until I can’t see this galaxy anymore, save green starbursts, my light source.
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Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
Stillness in the Circus
i know we haven’t talked i know it’s been a while i know that it’s kinda my fault but i still miss you i miss your fast talking and crazy stories i miss your dyed hair and red arms i really, really miss you i miss our hangouts before class i miss our planned birthday parties i miss our ranting about how mean our friends were i really, really, really miss you i miss your old car with the cupcake sticker i miss your loft bed and starbursts from math class but most of all i miss us - a.g.
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Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 9:26 AM UTC
i miss you
crickets serenading the crows to sleep trees send out calls to one another on the wind rustling branches what a masterpiece the stars make nestled in the spun navy blue of the night sky fawns and deer scream to one another grunt warnings and snort dry grass baby bunnies chirp to distant moms being chased by auburn tailed foxes the frogs try and calm their throats of the incessant pockets of air that erupt from their stomachs the moon's veil casts lacy shadows on the leaves filling the gaps in the branches white moonwashed asphalt sparks with diamonds the sun trying to break the barrier of darkness pushing and bulging over the horizon with a pop hazy pink lemonade spills over the edges of distance mountain ranges orange Starbursts melt on the tips of the crows' claws lavender wax seeps around the sleeping bunnies still chirping in their shortening sleep the stardust that fell during the night sparkles like dew on the blades of grass and floats like fairies through the apple juice air thick and warm cinnamon roll clouds roll by in the liquid gold sky the scent of cherry pie and toast every morning in the summer and the scent of honeydew melon with bamboo extract right before dusk.
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Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
lavenders and stardust
your hair smells like brimstone in my memories that swirl under the pale streetlight and in the reflective shards fogged over by our words swollen overripe sicksweet mangoes colors are more than the sway of hips or a glint in the eyes laced with starbursts and a face contains no infinites i remember the smoky silence drowned in fiction
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Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
Mangoes
If I decided to peal paint off the upside-down radiator for eternity, I wonder if you would sit beside me reading Wallace Stevens. If I decided to nurse the convent garden bursts of peonies for eternity, I wonder if you would smuggle me some David Bowie tracks. If I decided to eat only fudge brownies and cherry Starbursts for eternity, I wonder if you would google gourmet recipes for me. If I decided to paint my own Walden in the Washington wild for eternity, I wonder if you would build a nightclub next to my cabin. If I decided to leap out airplane hatches and steal rodeo saddles and read my poetry out-loud for eternity, I wonder if you would be happily married in Norway.
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Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 6:52 PM UTC
This is a Thought
as the stars trickle down from the sky they take the form of raindrops every time they splatter down on me i feel every shattered aspiration in those little splashes of starbursts i feel them stab into me demanding to be set free crushing a dream is like ripping the wings from a butterfly and then asking it why it can not fly
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Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 10:18 AM UTC
Dreams
my thoughts, so potent just before-- like fresh-pressed olive drops that lingered, lipping from the fragrant spout-- now pass, diffuse atop an ocean vast. i imagine willing it to be a pond, not for its lesser size alone but mostly for its calm, reflective height; yet these waves are distort ruthlessness of liquid dust by slapping, tower-high the central ocean rip-whirl tide: and gone-- as Homer's heroes screaming as they drown, deaf as oars but for their final gasps of yearned-for clarity: of nameless pride's Ithacan king abrading lustful wrists restrained to blind a god's son's single eye by tentacles of twisting, tactful fate. by threaded loom rethreaded soon i see my salty self in suit of sameness, tricking time by indolence or theft-- from truth, from others' hearths-- the difference winks in bubbles on the cosmic shore... foam so clean i grin to call it spume, grin to brace the seabed to my algaed chest in salinating crush of sand, of blood-sharp shell and rock, in sungreen warmth of blue and life in crashing sinus wince i grit aegean nereids in my sneeze, splay their formless sexing into pelvic scrapes of quickened starbursts anciently reborn, squeezed in pleasure tears and laughing drops-- as all pelagic ***** must within the pressure of a world, its breathing darkness spotted with transmuted sun, expel itself in sensate gusts-- as octopodal spurting flings in liquid ****** of purpose forth, (or backwards, sideways, in and out)-- so too i think and thinking, drown my ink instead of drowning thinking in my ink .
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Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 11:11 PM UTC
an epic (vritti) from an agora inkwell
my thoughts, so potent just before-- like fresh-pressed olive drops that lingered, lipping from the fragrant spout-- now pass, diffuse atop an ocean vast. i imagine willing it to be a pond, not for its lesser size alone but mostly for its calm, reflective height; yet these waves are distort ruthlessness of liquid dust by slapping, tower-high the central ocean rip-whirl tide: and gone-- as Homer's heroes screaming as they drown, deaf as oars but for their final gasps of yearned-for clarity: of nameless pride's Ithacan king abrading lustful wrists restrained to blind a god's son's single eye by tentacles of twisting, tactful fate. by threaded loom rethreaded soon i see my salty self in suit of sameness, tricking time by indolence or theft-- from truth, from others' hearths-- the difference winks in bubbles on the cosmic shore... foam so clean i grin to call it spume, grin to brace the seabed to my algaed chest in salinating crush of sand, of blood-sharp shell and rock, in sungreen warmth of blue and life in crashing sinus wince i grit aegean nereids in my sneeze, splay their formless sexing into pelvic scrapes of quickened starbursts anciently reborn, squeezed in pleasure tears and laughing drops-- as all pelagic ***** must within the pressure of a world, its breathing darkness spotted with transmuted sun, expel itself in sensate gusts-- as octopodal spurting flings in liquid ****** of purpose forth, (or backwards, sideways, in and out)-- so too i think and thinking, drown my ink instead of drowning thinking in my ink .
Continue reading...
47
Nights like this Nights like shining starbursts in black abyss When sweaty palms arise not from fear But butterflies ten thousandfold And the taste of her lips on yours on a lamplit January road Still lingers come daybreak Those are the nights I stick around for
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Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 12:59 PM UTC
Spark
1.) I don’t want you to think I’m crazy 2.) People see your pain and they see an opportunity to play the good guy. The hero in your twisted little fairytale. The public finds out you’re chemically imbalanced and the magic spell is cast! Like Cinderella’s dress, their contempt for you transforms into love and admiration. They now feel the need to let you know they are there, they care, they pray for you. When they can’t even remember your name. 3.) Expression of my depression is not a cry for attention. You asked me how I was and I’m really tired of using the word “fine”. 4.) “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem” **** THAT and all the same psychobabble ******** that’s recycled over and over again. If you want to help me tell me what you think. Tell me how you feel. Don’t google mental illness and memorize the wiki page I already did. 5.) Self-harm gets enough publicity already. If you want this trend to go away stop drawing hearts on your wrists, wearing orange ribbons on your chest, and telling people you love them but only if they hate themselves first. 6.) And while we’re on the subject what’s this obsession with kissing scars? You're not the lead singer of some punk band you’re my boyfriend. Kiss my lips or kiss my *** 7.) If I wanted another therapist I’d buy one 8.) What if you think I’m weak 8) What if I am weak 8) You’ll know I’m weak 9.) How am I to explain to you what’s wrong with me when I can barely admit it I have a problem in the first place. 10.) I want you to know my favorite songs, Why I hate my name or how I once ate 50 starbursts in one sitting. I want you to know the good things. I want you to know me. I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.
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Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
10 Reasons I Don't Like to Talk About my Mental Instability
1.) I don’t want you to think I’m crazy 2.) People see your pain and they see an opportunity to play the good guy. The hero in your twisted little fairytale. The public finds out you’re chemically imbalanced and the magic spell is cast! Like Cinderella’s dress, their contempt for you transforms into love and admiration. They now feel the need to let you know they are there, they care, they pray for you. When they can’t even remember your name. 3.) Expression of my depression is not a cry for attention. You asked me how I was and I’m really tired of using the word “fine”. 4.) “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem” **** THAT and all the same psychobabble ******** that’s recycled over and over again. If you want to help me tell me what you think. Tell me how you feel. Don’t google mental illness and memorize the wiki page I already did. 5.) Self-harm gets enough publicity already. If you want this trend to go away stop drawing hearts on your wrists, wearing orange ribbons on your chest, and telling people you love them but only if they hate themselves first. 6.) And while we’re on the subject what’s this obsession with kissing scars? You're not the lead singer of some punk band you’re my boyfriend. Kiss my lips or kiss my *** 7.) If I wanted another therapist I’d buy one 8.) What if you think I’m weak 8) What if I am weak 8) You’ll know I’m weak 9.) How am I to explain to you what’s wrong with me when I can barely admit it I have a problem in the first place. 10.) I want you to know my favorite songs, Why I hate my name or how I once ate 50 starbursts in one sitting. I want you to know the good things. I want you to know me. I don’t want you to think I’m crazy.
Continue reading...
10
I gaze into the eternity beyond pupils dilation Where soul has lost sole control of the spirit And the darkness that grips twists the mind Warping memories into incoherent phantoms Wailing in anguish as I brush them aside Gazing deeper, Beyond the pale of of my mortal coil Searching for an answer that nature neglects Written not in emerald green starbursts, Shrouded by grey washed blue skys, But further, beyond the heavens Where night stretches beyond Terra Firma And empty space reigns in perpetual waltz Aging as my eye progresses towards the birth When light was given life and purity was pure Before the infection of the question That has no answer or cure Nor did it need, For there I found looking back as if a mirror My reflection staring at itself in amazement For I had solved the theory of everything By knowing thyself… beyond myself
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Mar 18, 2024
Mar 18, 2024 at 8:14 AM UTC
The Gaze
Sharing yellow starbursts, artificial color stains our saliva what feels like years later, as I have aged quite a bit by this point, I repeat the motion in my mouth reminiscent of you instant messages of gentle reminders to resentment anger saturated print seeks to disfigure my skin insides twist in response to the configuration of a screen energy signals lost in translation When will I see you again?
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Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 9:53 PM UTC
Our spot
I watch the sun see through the trees through the glass, see through me. This great star saturates my window brightly warms my hand, as if in proposition. My smile concedes like a girl that has just been asked to dance. An unstoppable smile. I belong out there, in the trees At the source Eating sunshine and sipping starbursts Filter free. I roll down the window as if to shout "Stop! Drop me off here". But all I have are excuses: "Bad timing," I say. And the sun may see, but it does not hear.
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Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
The Scenic Route
I never stood tall at five foot two but I was proud and I was pretty enough that I didn't think I'd have to try. One day I fell bruised and bleeding words metaphors and metonymys and "i love you too"s. I was never one for running, but I I could glide on the back of starbursts and I sailed on the north winds like they were all I had for a home. I was never one for running, but I I realized how much I needed to move how freedom meant I had to leave the footprints I'd embedded beside my sandcastles meant I had to run into the water and swim through storms. My legs were broken one day and my wings were ripped apart; I could no longer hold sunsets in my eyes - they leaked far too often and too much. I decided you deserved somebody who could dance like mermaids in the old world so I stood and I smiled and I I let the skies be my music - but I'm still healing, so forgive me my baby steps - I am walking to you.
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Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 12:07 PM UTC
baby steps
She walks on clouds of ombre and touches silver rings her skirt a dozen roses surrounding pretty things she laughs and golden apples fall 2 covers forming a flimsy wall Which once was flesh and pulse her lovers call her many things long, and short, and thick she comes in dreams and quiet times and rainstorms come in quick she has a castle in the sky the sunset is her bed in war her wells will sometimes dry when torn souls belief is dead the universe encircles her like ribbons in her hair it’s starbursts set to still occur in all the joy we dare Who is this woman, free and fair? a Fantasy, I swear
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Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 11:45 AM UTC
the breath of me
the solemn sighs in empty halls these vacant thoughts that line the walls a chilly breeze through a midnight flare waiting for the heavens to bear to bear a heart that's ice cold and blue thawing in the light of the moon and with each beat that pains, that hurts that explodes into starbursts of woad and gold in the vastness of the sky on this lonely this lovely starry, starry night.
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Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 10:02 AM UTC
starry night
This was us, Back before the world turned to **** Before high school invaded and told us We probably wouldn't ever be happy, Back before that long cold November, In the days we were sure she'd come home, When we thought everything would be fine; Before the sickness claimed another To come and take her place in the ranks of the dead. No. This was the day when We placed chains of daisies on our heads And declared ourselves the kings and queens over everything, Said we would rove the world over, Then raced, screaming, into the Puget Sound, And laughed as the freezing salt flooded our lungs; The day we lay in the firelight and toasted Starbursts And let our laughter loose to join with the smoke and float Up through the hole in the roof of the longhouse to mingle forever With the naked San Juan summer. This was us. Back then, we could've lived forever.
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Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 12:28 AM UTC
Troubador
there's something satisfying in sitting by yourself in the dark at 10pm and watching Harry Potter while drinking coffee and eating starbursts
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Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 11:05 PM UTC
Untitled
I want you to curl up on me, nestle yourself snugly between my arms and move around until you find the perfect places for all your angles and creases, your folds and ridges - to let your eyes seek the starbursts of the Dreaming, to breathe in surrender and breathe out all your demons - to rest your shoulders from the weight of the world and smoothen the dents the sky has made upon your back as your hands remember how it feels not to be climbing up cliffs that placed themselves between what you want and what you have - I want you to slow down, so maybe sleep can remind your smile how lovely it feels to be upon you.
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Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 6:43 PM UTC
armchair
Do not look back he said, into the starbursts of your lover's eyes into the dark pits of what you left behind into the burning sun that traces your tiny figure into the drowning need that will wrap you home into the drowning need that will suffocate you home into the drowning need that will take you home. Do not go home he said, where the windows whine the doors creak in warning the footsteps echo like gunshots the gunshots echo like footsteps her words echo like gunshots the gunshots do not echo. Do not hold me he said, like he was ghostly pale as the moon face pulled taught like a rubber band eyes dark with warning. Do not hold me he said, for he feared the arms would choke him the arms would pull at his hair until he was falling into the arms and he cannot handle the warmth the buzz of conflict the fight in their veins knuckled up fighting fists. Do not let her he said, as if he could say that as if she had not hurt him too as if he was real. Do not look back he said, as if I had left at all as if someone was telling me to leave as if he knew.
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Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 1:58 AM UTC
Arms can be real
I dreamt of the stars colliding from the intense love within, as you held my hands and walked through the voids in both of us. We flushed as our hearts beat in sync. The stars collided all around us into red, blue,pink and violet. The heavenly collisions. Our words bring on, the impending collision as we burst into a million starbursts. Imprinted it is in me , your words that made me see the colours of the heavens
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Sep 15, 2020
Sep 15, 2020 at 5:06 AM UTC
..heavenly collisions..
i am trying to explain your kisses to myself but your kisses are like tiny bits of strawberry candy to me & even after the point of finding out how many licks it takes I could still **** on them all day long
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Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
starbursts
Her voice that becomes melody to my ears Her voice that becomes a song that will forever be on repeat Will always stay In my playlist. Her lips, a sweet delight, that holds a magic spell That leaves me wanting more. It's sweeter than a pack of jolly ranchers and starbursts Her body is so elegant so graceful the way she moves Is better than any dancer, the way she sways her hips side to side makes me want to grab her, hold her close, look into her very eyes, fall deep into her mind, give her all of what she dreams, fulfill all her fantasies. Fulfill her every need. Her skin so smooth, I wish to be apart of it, I wish to be the water that hits your body when you shower, feeling every inch of your skin, I wish to be the lotion that you rub gently & on your skin, to fully appreciate God's creation....( to be continued)
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May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 9:34 AM UTC
Her
Every single kiss between us was combustible. Starvation. We were driven by our need to explode, and we did. In each other's arms we trembled with multiple starbursts. We were unable to speak, and as we hit our peak, you screamed above the fray, true lover's play. Our intertwined bodies were mad with lust, rising and falling in a glorious sacred-rhythm we succumbed, I melted in your furnace. Tempest. I filled you up with meteor showers and breathless we lay timelessly panting, bathed in the sweat of gods. A sheen of immortal love dripped from your tender, heaving ******* against mine. And yet darling I remain intoxicated forever by your splendid vision.
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Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 4:28 AM UTC
You Were My Tempest Lover