"staunch" poems
load your bullets
in the firing chamber
and they'll fly
from your lips,
ricochet and lodge
past the scarce armor
of my ribcage
into this glass heart of mine
*let my insecurities bleed out
don't staunch the flow*
pierce my skin
with the shards of my heart
end my misery,
squeeze the trigger
with practiced ease
*breathe in,
breathe out
breathe in,
breathe out*
*(you'll find another victim
downrange of you)*
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
Dancing,
Thrashing,
Cascading
Down the barren stone tower,
Through the craggy, coarse cliffs
Refining, polishing the necessary features
And streaming for the duration of my adventure,
One might wonder: Why?
Why! Oh what a question—
To purify what will soon be soiled in a moment’s time,
And yet, unremittingly,
Over, ad nauseam, again.
I cannot die.
No agony or desolation can destroy me.
Amaranthine, ceaseless, everlasting!
I hold steadfast, staunch, unrelenting.
I am a waterfall.
Nought can destroy me.
I am forever...
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
all my life
i've been preparing faces
to meet the faces that
i've met
friends
family
the man who delivers newspapers
at our doorstep each morning
i've laughed at their silly jokes
as they tossed their heads from side to side
in naive stupidity and their sheer ignorance
a pompous lot, the human race i tell you
i've acknowledged their staunch morals
and tried to make them my own
as they scorned at the girl in a skimpy dress
and chewed on mutton bones gluttonously
all my life, i've been trying hard
to blend in
with people who've shown me
that i don't belong with them
and tonight when i shed gallons of tears
i have only my bed and pillow to share
i've learnt that my sadness
is my very own
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 2:30 PM UTC
The photos were leaked today
They were of a **** woman with brown skin
Love making as she stared straight into the lenses
I was showed by a man who did not know how to react once I had been shown
My reaction was not shock
I merely stated "That's baad"
I did not know how to react to the staunch cyber-bully who was sure he was doing himself a justice by being so open about his anger at the naked, brown, humiliated, naked, shamed, beautiful
I am shamed by his shaming
I am naked by his **********
I am beautiful by myself sometimes
Sometimes I take the tape off my camera and position it near my bloom
I am not alone in this activity and yet I feel alone in an intimate situation, feel less alone, in a private situation.
Sometimes I work it so that every part of my dark lips are shadowed and my fingers seem to work for a living rather than play
My body is not a string
It is a temple of dark things
It is a ossuary filled with the dust of former lives
It is not to be dangled for cats for play
It has no puppet hands
Or puppet face
It smiles because it sees you smile
And she frowns when she sees you laugh
It is alive
The misfortune you hope her body will bring her is shame
I hope it will bring other people enlightenment
The fault is not in her
The fault is in the malicious, villainous, caricature of man who is hallow and made of maddening bells
Every time you disturb him he rings in announcement "This lady I had once an intimate relationship and she abused me. Here is her punishment."
We are all cavernous tunnels with lights to shoot out of the pins and needles sensational feelings we do not desire this but we must desire to be freed from being owned by this
We all think we're exempted from shame until we are ashamed
There are no exemptions, only more bells
They ring, until background noise renders them obsolete to us
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 10:43 AM UTC
Its interesting to be in a home so different than mine. A home where almost always two people at least are in the living room, bonding. My family I love, but we are always in our respective corners; father in the basement, brother in his room, mother in the living space, and I around randomly, uncertain where and who to belong with.
This weekend I visit Hockey House, the affectionate name I'm giving my boyfriend's home. I mean it full of affection, because they are brought together by movies and food and especially hockey.
In my home we are only brought together by food and then we run to the hills for our alone time. Very odd entirely, because of the extroversion holding my heart.
I guess as I grow, I find a disconnect with the family who is so different from me. My mother, though the easiest to be with, can be a staunch, stubborn hypocrite when it comes to all things social. My father is a determined conservative who opposes all I believe in. Brother is being molded into the man my father wants as his son, which is slowly distancing me from him.
When I'm home, I'm a repressed me, who keeps her tongue latched inside her mouth, and keeps her head down as to not get attacked. Even the natural peanut butter I asked for became a battlefield of who was right and who was wrong, not just a happy cheer for me being healthier.
Its odd in a house I've only been twice I can be less afraid than in my own home. I guess things change when you become the person you want to be instead of the adult your parents want to be proud of.
Maybe its easier here because I care less if they judge me, while my parents judgment terrifies me. Parents tend to be scary gods who rule your life, and to let them topple in your eyes is something all more traumatizing to watch.
I still love my parents, as children do, but there's a disconnect between who we are that cannot be passed.
Love can exist everywhere, but it cannot transcend all obstacles, and that, truly, is what terrifies me most.
I never want to lose my parents, but I cannot lose myself either.
Only time will tell, and I guess I'll just enjoy college and my times at Hockey House.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 7:01 PM UTC
sages and brethren
gather, and share
and slowly souls
are bared
their tempered voices
and quiet eyes
reserved of judgment
with passing smiles
moments blend
in current trends
opinions wide
and reflections deep
the concepts
and irregularities
once murky
now clear
they prioritize
and familiarize
that staunch resolution
of generation net
will remunerate
and illuminate
through the checkpoints
and formal reviews
through the purple curtains
and open stage
nothing tainted
or bitter
left for taste
cause its they
who’ll plant the seeds
the captains of commerce
healers and jugglers
the coaches and councilors
negotiators and compromisers
the kings and queens
hustlers and hellcats
(who've all found their way!)
let us tip our hats
and salute them*
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
I watch people in the world
Throw away their lives lusting after things,
Never able to satisfy their desires,
Falling into deeper despair
And torturing themselves.
Even if they get what they want
How long will they be able to enjoy it?
For one heavenly pleasure
They suffer ten torments of hell,
Binding themselves more firmly to the grindstone.
Such people are like monkeys
Frantically grasping for the moon in the water
And then falling into a whirlpool.
How endlessly those caught up in the floating world suffer.
Despite myself, I fret over them all night
And cannot staunch my flow of tears.
10.3k
Staunch masculinity
I have hair on my chest
I drink whiskey
I work out
I like Karate
I drink beer
I like heavy metal
Let’s fight
Lets ****
I smoke
I stay out late
I win
I read (ie: I’m smarter than you.)
Let’s ****
Sometimes I lose ….but I learn
I don’t care
That’s my job
I had steak for lunch
Do you want to ****
I provide
I take care of business
C’mon let’s ****
I build
I take
I teach
I preach
Let’s ****
I’m happy
Don’t cut me off in traffic
I lead
I challenge
How about we ****
I yell
I critique
I solve
Are we going to ****
I drive a sports car
I save money
I spend money
I make money
I brag
I show off
I really really need to ****
I said I drive sports car
I drink…. did I mention that.
Let’s ****
****
Yeah
****
I wait
I wait
I’m patient
I drink
I smoke
I emote
We aren’t going to **** are we?
I work out
I compete
I shoot guns
I ride a motorcycle
I’m cultured
Don’t make me beg for it *****
I judge
I ****
I love
I ponder
I create
I scheme
I think you are really special
Let's ****
I can lift heavy boxes
I can hang pictures
I can drive you around
I can buy you dinner
****
****
****
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 1:24 AM UTC
Here in America,
we improvise morgues
as needed.
in the cafeterias
or by the lockers,
near the ticket booths,
and at the altars.
We divvy up the dead.
Tally them
and report the number
like an answer.
13, 20, 49, 58, 6
Every death count
a timely national shock.
Almost as if
our well-televised
monthly tragedy
was ever anything less
than a game of roulette.
anything less than a matter of time
and time and time again.
Covering them each
with our bed sheets,
we try and stifle it.
Do our best to
staunch the the sights,
the noises,
(“just like chairs falling”)
the names
that keep bleeding out
onto our thoughts
and tongues,
Far too much and
too often
not to choke on.
Here in America,
we’ve learned that
horror is level-headed.
It is debatable.
It is pangless.
It seeps, deep to the core,
perverting with a silent smile.
the steady, feverish dread
weaving itself into the mundane.
the “god help us”
annulled by the
“respectfully disagreed”
the nightmare that lies
always just underneath,
and just out of mind,
Until it insinuates itself
Again and again...
Here, in America
We line the bodies,
death slumped, and
bled out on the pavement.
We arrange them-
Side by side.
Most are missing things-
a hat, a piece of face.
one shoe, a dulled pencil
(fill in C)
phones
buzzing on the ground
lit up with unread messages
(“Please call me”)
They are missing-
an upcoming
7th birthday party,
(Star Wars themed)
They are missing-
their vacations.
their first dates.
their college applications.
job interviews.
kids.
fiancées.
Lined up lifeless,
they are missing
far too many things
to gather.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 3:14 PM UTC
Seasons pass, tempered by insalubrious fervor; treasonous design remiss of fate
An echo of prior songs resonate somber atrophy; mourn the passing of constant defeat, stained by triumphant dissonance and disdain
Fear strides along the broken path, left alone and solemn and crass: Through sour feats of vindication, tones of plight become dismissed
Surfeit, the sound of temptation rides upon the crest of dawn, blinding darkness like calming waves caressing infinite stretches of sand: soft and warm; kind and welcoming, embracing in its gentle touch
Sentience hides behind a creeping fog, whispering secrets of life eternal, bearing gifts wrought through sensuous candor
Two threads lost, now found; slowly bonding, uniting purpose, rhythm, rhyme, and reason; born from the same cloth, garnering habit, singing in harmony what echoes from within
Beautiful, intelligent, staunch with profundity; stark, handsome, wholesome, and good
The call of a true home may finally beckon..
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 2:08 AM UTC
I've spent a life creating fortune for those who've either never seen nor deserved it
Decimated by wanton want for more, or decaying senses wrought with desolation and desire to simply be known, I've caused strife within myself for the sake of others being fulfilled
I've spent so much time creating, ready to give myself to a world that's only seemed to cause destruction to my own soul, and take from me the things I needed most, even if merely conceived through empty wishing
I crave to bestow this strength and wisdom to one who would call my heart home; to be equal and stand as one, through synergy and servitude toward every sense of well being, respect, and care
I do not ask for more, I request nothing but trust and honesty; my affection, admiration, and loyalty lies upon the eyes that see me true
I do not expect love, nor frivolous diligence, I simply wish to no longer misplace my purpose, my admiration, or my faith unto anyone that would never see me, or never care to desire such staunch resolve within their heart as well
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 3:12 AM UTC
My sisters and I jest
That men never get over us.
We have been named
Muses, angels, succubi, leanan sidhe
But we are les belles dames avec merci
And that is their undoing.
Our breath has left them gasping
With unfilled lungs
We never meant to be their oxygen
But they drink us in like drowning men.
We didn’t ask for this,
But disarming, we are soft enough
For them to float in
Belly up, eyes to distant stars
Singing the sirens song that stirs in our veins.
Behind our teeth rests the love
The world has failed to give them till now
There are holds in the knowledge
that our fingertips find the hollowed spaces,
mother wounds, clefts where trust was carved out,
And they clutch our palms to staunch the bleeding.
We never asked for this,
They cherish the brittle changelings of us
until they are crushed in the coals of our eyes
Eggshell ideals, fragile as egos.
Blown by the sea wind in the strands of our hair
they are scattered, undone.
The distance drifts between, inevitable
And full they turn away to starve
We cut the mooring line
After one too many storms,
And search
For safer
Harbor.
Sep 29, 2021
Sep 29, 2021 at 9:54 AM UTC
It is easy to romp and play
In lighthearted levity
When the sun doth shine so merrily
And the mallard flies so free
Yet to laugh when the stygian dark clouds grow
To dance when the gale winds blow
To smile & bow to the Reaper spurned
Is staunch strength well earned
Is God's fuel well burned
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
It's like a blind man leading a poor man
He sees the cliff coming but he doesn't mind
Grateful to have company on the way down
Thinks the cloud they'll fall through will be silver lined
It's like the teenager who just gave birth to a still born accident
It hurts real bad inside
But she's grateful that if she returns all the diapers everybody bought her
She might have enough money to buy a prom dress
Thinks the pain she feels will be silver lined
It's like the boyfriend of the young girl who just gave birth to the still born child
Grabs his cleats out the closet
Grateful he still has time to get a college scholarship
Dumped her over the phone
Said he didn't like the way her ***** *** whined
Thinks adding another drop to the bucket of pain he will never feel is silver lined
It's like a young man who works at a gas station
With dreams so big he'd have to run the world to accomplish them
Grows up, gets marrieds, gets settled, and settles
Knows the only way he'll make the TV is by beating his wife
Grateful that strangers know who he is
Thinks the jail time he's serving is silver lined
It's like the grown man who has everything the boy at the gas station ever wanted
Doesn't want it, wishes he could give it back, but can't
So he buys houses, clothes, and Cadillacs
Grateful to have enough
Thinks the silver lining on his silver Cadi is silver lined
It's like the overwhelmed twenty something year old who puts a lock on her own knife drawer
Too proud to get help
Grateful that she has a boyfriend willing to take the brunt
Of all the problems she can't see past
Thinks the inconvenience of the knife drawer is silver lined
It's like the boyfriend of the overwhelmed twenty something year old
Who takes the brunt of all the problems she can't see past
Grateful he has a key to the knife drawer
Thinks the blood on the floor will be enough
To show her there's more to the world than the problems she can't see past
Thinks his mama's heartache will be silver lined
It's like the staunch republican who got laid off last year
Now he's so broke he's on unemployment, food stamps, and TANF
Grateful the democrats were in control during the great depression
Still voted for John McCain
Thinks the bumper sticker on the back of his car is silver lined
It's like the young family started by a couple kids
Who insisted on having a couple of their own
Now they're too poor to afford but too rich for assistance
Begging their government to bail them out of something that nursery rhymes got them into
Grateful their truck didn't break down again this month
Thinking raising hungry babies is silver lined
It's like a poor man leading a blind man
Who knows the cliff is coming
Knows they're going over and doesn't really mind
Grateful to finally be in the company of someone just as blind as he is
Thinking the cloud they'll fall through is silver lined.
Aug 25, 2009
Aug 25, 2009 at 7:38 PM UTC
winters day getting a tan in my yard
i can feel the ocean of the spring breeze
taste its intoxicating salt and sand on the air
feel its breathtaking beauty as the sea washes up on me
only a few hundred feet through that tangle of palms and
tangles of quick brush
lay wide open lush sands
and forever summers soft light
and the beautiful breaking waves
in staunch hand needed but the
deeply tanned smile on the old mans face
as he holds out a greeting and offer to run out to your skiff
but you'd rather swim
at last the days full face comes to bear
a hippie family roasts hot dogs in a pit fire
and you share some white wine
music plays from a transistor radio
that has seen better days
but this is the land of forever summer
and nothing can taint the smile you share
with your lover
nothing can touch the soul deep
expression of joys
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 2:23 PM UTC
city in ruins
acid green night sky
flames in skyscraper windows
the flakes of ashes
filtering the staunch air
if you breathe in you can
taste the souls of the dearly
& painfully departed
I roamed the underground
silent subway system
in search of an easy ****
long black coat trailing my
fast-paced footfalls
dried blood smeared on a
restroom door
the smell no longer made
me sick
I throw it open
& step inside
the room reeked of
sweat and vile
death
the hair rose on my skin
as I faced the mirror
to greet my weary, shadowy-eyed
reflection
it was then that I saw the
pair of yellow eyes
watching me
& before either of us
could blink
I hurled my dagger at
the corner ceiling above the
empty stalls
spearing the small winged
demon
it fell to the floor in a heap
of rotting dust
there was no time for me
to react
when a figure burst through
the doorway
a dark-skinned girl with
long braids
who didn't catch my gaze
as she slammed her
purse on the filthy counter top
& began to apply her
makeup
"What are you doing here?"
I asked the young woman
stunned at her nonchalance
she never once stopped
moving the pink brush against
her skin
"Gotta go to work,"
she said briskly
as if the whole doomsday planet
was a waste of her
time
I had forgotten there were still
people living in
hell
who bothered to look
pretty
I said no more
& went on my
way
May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 5:27 PM UTC
Red Poppies grow
Upon lapels
Telling of
War's untold hell
Of green hills
Pristine and groomed
Marching crosses
On the tombs
Marching crosses
Star of David
Where Stars and Stripes
Fluttered and wav'ed
Of buddies lost
Buried in cairns
Of brothers. Sisters.
Thus disarmed.
Of need for morphine
To end the pain
Of bandages
To staunch red stains
To honor souls
Under white snow
Upon lapels
Red Poppies grow.
SoulSurvivor
(C) 5/29/2016
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 8:23 PM UTC
In a perfect world, equal opportunity would be a facet of every society, not just a promise made and then recanted.
In a perfect world, fixed annuity would be given out with staunch sobriety, and the cries of poverty would cease being chanted.
In a perfect world, the disparity of race would be forgotten, replaced with celebratory practice of traditions, preserved.
In a perfect world, discrimination would no longer be begotten, and nothing but compassion and kindness would be reserved.
In the perfect world, medicine would work like magic, with disease being left as a thing of the past.
In the perfect world, a diagnosis of cancer would no longer be tragic, and our bodies would be engineered to last.
Yet, the future’s uncertain, and the past’s all but gone
So the present must be where our battles are won
If a perfect world is what we desire
It must be done now
Where our bones are unweary
And our minds shall not tire
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 12:40 AM UTC
the october rose is wistful and reticent
our defenses dense like sediment and sentences
love descends like a fog
and we begin as quickly to depart
our dialogue takes many turns
from staunch to raunchy in a few minutes
there is no need to be concerned
its only in our heads
our needs no longer mean anything
love is lost in forms
amidst the storms of anger and rage
imprisoning our souls
dinosaur bones roam the earth
i went out in search of chrysanthemums
and instead i found you lying on the ground
making a pillow out of superconductive fungi
to test your theories of interconnectivity
what transpired cannot be spoken about
all my doubts vanished and the words that were spoken
resounded for days in my being
as if they echoed from within some part of me
that had always longed to hear them
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
I wish I could spare you words like beautiful, babe, figure and thin.
I wish I could guarantee you a complete disregard for the size of your *******
Or the length of your legs.
I pray never to find you hunched over the toilet
Or hiding a sandwich under books in your bag.
What will the equivalent of cyberbullying be, in ten years time?
I will try, so very hard, to keep you safe.
Please, always talk to each other, and to me.
Share your heart’s bleedings
And I will help you staunch the flow.
I will find the courage to share my failings
And the confidence to pass on my successes,
Both were instrumental in my becoming the woman I am,
A woman I hope you will be proud of, and applaud.
It is hard to be a woman, in this world,
Urged, relentlessly to perfection,
Bombarded with it, drowned in it,
But perfection is a myth, and becomes imperfect with attainment,
It is the imperfections that will mesmerise,
Embrace them, love them, let them shine.
How long did it take me to learn these lessons?
Have I learned them, even now?
Sometimes I think I have, then I become overwhelmed
By anxiety and self-doubt.
This will happen to you too,
I cannot hope to save you from it
But I can provide some armour.
Think for yourselves,
Reject the babble and the screens, the illusion of celebrity
Twenty-first century addictions.
Do not become a slave to technology.
I can see how hard that will be,
But it must be done, if you are to remain people,
Retain your humanity.
I will help you; I will hold your hands.
You are tiny now, but I can see the strength within you both,
And I will nurture it, protect it,
Then it will protect you, out there.
I promise I will always be your tigress,
But you will not always be my little cubs
I will have to find a way to sheath my claws,
And let you stalk your own prey,
And evade the predators, just as I have done.
I watch you, playing happily together in the sun,
And wish you peace, and love, and joy.
Such simple things, yet so elusive.
I will not show you this poem.
But I will read it, frequently,
And try to keep my promises.
My heart thuds in my chest, each a double-beat
A constant repetition of your names,
Tattooed onto my soul.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC
I take a deep breath to staunch
That constant clang and clatter
Be still and follow the hunch
Before it’s too late to matter
I need a quiet place
A shift in space, a change in stealth
My next breath can create
Some room to gaze at something else
Soon I must take a break
I can’t settle down or think straight
Wrestling with those demons
I know not the time or the date
Looking back looks so abnormal
Deadly games of Red Rover
Spawning pages from my journals
Replaying over and over
I know not steps to take
On pathways for planting the seed
Peace, her elusive face
Turns away whenever I plead
Time to build that Safe House
Only I have the key to the door
Where peace and bliss abounds
I meet each holy moment and soar
Seek a new vision there
And learn to think more about others
Let go my tormented memories
Seeing All-my Sisters and Brothers
I find that peaceful space
Just to release what I don’t need
Harmony-Beauty-Love
Replaces all my soul has freed
Filling up my Heart Space
As soft as a sweet baby’s kiss
Some name the feeling Grace
I feel a sense of peace and bliss
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 4:28 PM UTC
I was raised by a pack of fools
Who proclaim Caucasians are the best.
And are glad to fight, at the drop of a hint
To put the whole matter to the test.
They have an entire joke routine
And descriptive names they repeat
In minimizing and insisting that
Their right to decent treatment isn’t real.
There are references to some animals
And unfunny comments about color.
The statements about characteristics
Of body and features always go together
With a special set of gross anecdotes
To cover any kind of non-Christian belief.
And the refusal to consider equality
As a decent attitude stands in bright relief.
Beneath all this horror, not very deep,
Lies a sickening river of hate and fear
That fails to improve as education is
Rejected year after disgusting year.
Pointing out the error of their ways
Might earn you a punch in the eye
But the bigot hangs on to their rage
And never gives fellowship a try.
The American Bigot claims to be
A staunch Christian all the way through
Which forces them to hate and cheat
And lie as much as Jesus would do.
Of course, we know that Jesus was
A preacher of love and acceptance
But it seems that bigots never quite
Made that Jesus’ acquaintance.
So, here we can see we need to add
Some terms to this kind of individual
Whose relationship to peace and love
Is at best slight, scant and residual.
We also need to append to their titles
Of masters of anger fear and prejudice
The unhealthy pallor of indecency,
Dishonesty, inhumanity and cowardice.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 11:33 PM UTC
I'll seek refuge in places that don't hold my name to be true, and even in emptiness I remain wrought through heavy handed tones of antipathy
Echoes of resolute desire plea with somber empathy, but remain indefinitely beyond the horizon of which I can not seek - and I shall remain waiting for something that has yet to come, for good it seems..
It rings barren any semblance of genuineness, the shadows I fall under; in plighted qualms, through quarreled teeth; without strength to hold my own, my very soul becomes the ground with which they walk
Desolation is the staunch friend from which I may not doubt will never be there in my time of need; and what I truly need, I fear, will never set foot upon my gaze
Like a sullen rose barred behind a glass wall, bereft of life giving nutrients and slowly wilting away one pedal at a time: I'll solemnly gaze upon the last glimmer of hope what was once profound and pure, now gripped with agony, and sin; decaying, alone, forever out of reach with only my eyes and heart to embrace it, yet never once again know what it may feel like to hold close with my own flesh
I am surrounded by an unspoken emptiness; an infinite abyss in every direction, except forward - and to each footstep I hear an echo of its past, one more inch beyond itself and gone before the last moments incur what hollow life is left within
Each passing moment brings me further to the edge of the unknown, this hope that's guided me for this long has burned like an eternal candle, now wisping what light is left to bear before me
One step more, and into the embracing darkness I will fall unto
The cries of war are beginning to recess; the battle has ceased, and I am still without a place to call home
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 1:58 AM UTC
capsized beating purple algorithm
for a heart,
cross-nit aspirations
still taste dirt on my teeth,
the mission creep of eager eyed poets,
carry a briefcase with my levi's --
close cut cigarette encounters,
all brick shantytown of a friendship
them lovelies run on endless,
it's starting to get cold outside.
restless sprites circle our *****
exhaling greek mythopoeics
every sure footed step.
alcoholism echoes in my skin
a depth charge i cannot cut out,
we all have broken thoughts here,
all have blind spots in our stomachs,
they read like a preacher's insecurities:
burly things we warm ourselves with,
the winters sting bitter.
something is wrong with me,
sinkhole of ambition and honey kisses,
all the great thinkers **** themselves,
it's the staunch lack of spotlight,
way the earth drips lackadaisical-like
we just call it a perfect orbit.
shake my hand and feel a goldilocks pulse
anemic shards of a cornered animal,
we cut right
to the bone
here, or so we tell ourselves.
and love is always the answer?
that sure footed toothy angel
so beautiful, it couldn't just be our
churlish blood,
frothing and calming,
frothing and calming,
electrons rise and fall to create light,
they still circle an untapped atrocity
perfectly,
like this, like it must be
god
or something close. something
stopping them from running, free
from bonds ionic or otherwise,
bare feet
beating the pavement until there are
no more stones to throw.
firstborns of the universe,
each star is a setting sun,
blinks staggered,
still grew us up quicker than most,
there is no aphrodisiac like heliocentrism.
them bones cut good
doped up on oxytocin,
those empty thoughts still rattling,
dig sharp -- then nice and numb.
and we cutthroat and glossy,
sharper than ever.
walk outside
smoke a cigarette
know how much you love her,
look at the stars --
it's ******* beautiful isn't it
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC
Summer raining on the Eastern seaboard
I liked you better before November, personally
There are metal shards floating in this bathwater
Their own tiny islands of pain
A mirror in shards face up on the floor
Guess that is just another 7 years of bad luck
Pennies are dropping into the bathtub
Copper going plink plink plink
Tiny rivulets running their paths
That's just the sound of my lifeline going down the drain, again
Smells like metal and tastes like pain
Red river gushing from my veins
Locked door trying to staunch the flow of secrets
Head swimming to the tile floor
clink clink clink
Scars these days open so easily
Like the Raven said, Nevermore
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC