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Girard Tournesol Oct 2018
The bright blue bottle hit me like a hint of death
      on the breath of Spring.
I imagined it being tossed out a truck window
by underage teens fancying themselves clever
      and mature and immortal

as if the earth had willed upon them
      that her stolen treasure, Aluminum,
be returned or she’d cause their truck keys
      disappear for all eternity.
      I picked up the blue bottle

tried to feel resurrection
      in a recycling sort of way
felt instead only the hollow emptiness
      of mindless eternal reincarnation.
Winter had been long this year and lately
I fantasized resurrection more than usual

at a field where I stopped to listen to meadowlark and field sparrow calling for mates or alerting everyone to the sin of the blue bottle.
Several deer grazed the unseen first greens of Spring near skunk cabbage and coltsfoot.

At a small stream, I cupped my hand into the icy fast water and raised it to my lips, then splashed my face, then splashed some more, more,
then knelt, both knees at the streambed and submersed my face and head,

in self-inflicted baptism
      for my own blue bottle sins,
opened my eyes, exhaled all my blue bubbles, for the longest of repentant moments,
      pulled out of the water
      gasping the holy Spring air
      for dear life

and thereafter walked each step
      in the garden of resurrection.
> As published in The Watershed Journal.
> As published in Dark Horse Appalachia
> Winner Editor's Choice Award, North/South Literary Canon
this is for the Dreamers, Lovers, and Surgeons

for the Hopeless Stargazer who immortalized his Subject with one hundred and eight sets of fourteen lines in iambic pentameter

for ***** tight clad teenage boys who envied frisky fleas, struggling to make holy ungodly passions with cheap arguments and metaphysical pick up lines

for Disillusioned City Dwellers, who, wandering lonely as clouds, stopped to quietly reflect upon wind-beaten moss-covered crags, and heard God’s whisper thunder from petals and blades of grass

this is for the Dreamers, Lovers, and Surgeons

for Bespectacled Slave Drivers who submersed idle minds in anthologies,  forcing them to **** neon yellow on dreams deferred and rivers;  slicing and dicing Grecian urns with red ball point pens; bruising and battering, in blue ball point, roads not taken; scalding supermarkets in California with pyroclastic flows of graphite  

for those pushing to tear apart lines and letters, reconstructing ,deconstructing, agonizing, imaginizing, bullshitting, and brooding on to crisp white sheets in times new roman twelve point font

for the Monsters and Lollipops that exist in the millimeters between a skull and a brain

this is for the Dreamers, Lovers, and Surgeons slumbering beneath Restless Leaves Under the Moon
lost in my mind Feb 2015
I love you
I love you
I love you
More than you could ever know
More than anyone ever hopes to be loved.
More than you can understand.
More than you can fathom.
A limitless, unconditional, fierce love.
The kind that comes like a passionate hurricane
and still soft and sweet like morning fog.
That's how much I love you.
Know that I never knew love until I met you
and you unlocked doors to emotions
that I never thought were real.
This fierce romantic love never roared
until you awakened it
That's why I always said that you saved my life.
Because you did.
I was dead, the pain was so much
and then you came in,
bringing with you euphoria
that I only ever experienced in small doses.
But ******* when you walked into the room
my blood felt like it was on fire.
A yearning and craving unlike anything
I'd ever experienced before,
not just to feel your body but to know your mind.
To know and behold all quirks
of your personality, everything.
I wanted to be completely submersed
in the universe that is your mind.
So now do you understand what I mean
when I say "I love you" ?
Bellis Tart Feb 2011
I find myself slipping
back into the love I had for you
like sliding down the tub
submersing my head
till every sound outside
is muffled and distant
how I love the world below the bubbles
that float on top of the bath
so peaceful, and serene
but I cannot stay under too long
enjoying the separation from reality
for no matter how wonderful it may seem
detached, submersed
eventually I have to come up for air
and hear it all for real,
above the water
(c) 01/02/11
Hal Loyd Denton May 2013
From gentle falling snow to air born blossoms Mexico City stroll the city observe the
Architecture with the tree above fragrant and scented the place and its history is mind and soul
Altering the culture undertakes enhancing you could quickly transport yourself to ancient
Mesopotamia at the gate Ishtar a honing emerges from the submersed recesses of knowing
Plentiful abundance you are a space traveler in your own planet what happened the possibility
Of renewal of nature triggered something wondrous you are on solid ground but you are also in
Wrapped by Cinergy so large nature unbound intricate exquisite the very mood of life
Expressed through a wild heart that never fails to excite stillness holds your sight you presume
Certain facts just by the innocence that casually hangs in display beauty enriches then
Sweetly on a wafting breeze the fragrance of Lilac everything now is sought in this perfume that
Can never be bottled but it catches and releases joy and thrills across the tendrils of the heart
Amazing disembodied that can’t be matched or missed every turning ever filling with
Enchantment pleasure that is universal everyone is accosted delighted the spectacle is then
Perfected by rain and mist that leaves droplets on all that is visible saturation enters and drips
Unconsciously in the extravagant folds of the soul bliss awash in environs where only gentle
Fields grow such richness competes with the poverty that rules at so many points in life we
Walk imprisoned then it occurs happens without fanfare or announcement nature explodes as
Far as the eye beholds a virtual fair an extravaganza nothing is left unaffected you are invited to
This show you are to be a participant in life at its far reaches the swirl the blending of affection
And tranquility gifts so unabashedly presented hush befalls the entire world quietly it
Commands Without rehearsal the perfect show comes to life for your viewing and pleasure
Though we are buffeted by strife and challenges that at times seem unreasonable but just by
Taking a stroll and looking at the garments Mother Nature adorns herself in paths and gates
That are lying before you twist and turns that speak to the essential human in us all come to
Such wonder all you have to do is open yourself cherished living you will find created by an all
Loving Heart for His children you are the entitled keepers and reapers of a harvest that
Continues its Renewal year by year and truly does get sweeter as time goes by
Lamb Jul 2015
So I am a mutt
And this is my poem about having split identities
And not knowing who the **** I am
I am Chinese and Irish
Got them green eyes, but eat rice with every dish
Have the freckles, but my first language wasn't English

Back in high school, people called me white washed
But then,
Pointed and called me that Asian
People would sneer, "You aren't even real Chinese"
But there are so many things you all don't see
Like how my Tiger mom screams at home
About getting straight As
Till her shrills leave me frozen to the bone
And when I had a boyfriend she didn't approve of
She yanked my hair
And I cried it wasn't fair
She yelled, "oh I'll give the boys something to stare"
I watched as she cut all of it off
Strand by strand
Like a strong gust of wind blowing all the leaves off the branches till it was bare in winter
The following day at school, my excuse was I needed a new look, so this was her
And meals I don't even know how to translate into English are my comfort food
But I can down some fries and burgers when I'm with the dudes

I embrace both sides of what I am
But people categorize me into one, *******
With my Chinese family
They straight up tell you
You too skinny, too fat, so silly
They say my accent has gotten worse
The anger builds up of embarrassment and hurt
The race makes my face so red, it's like my head will soon burst
There's this underlying feeling of shame, that's the worst
Which side of me do I need to prioritize first?
I'm drowning between the ocean of two separate cultures, I'm submersed
English is the language I think in and I curse
There's so much more I can't even tell you within this verse

Oh the irony doesn't end there
My driving stereotypes are quite the scare
Cause I'm Chinese, automatically I **** at driving
But mixed with Irish, I'm also road raging
It's probably the worst combination
Of a stereotype from two different nations
Ha oh there's more
The drinking stereotype that's for sure
Irish side could down the whiskey much too quickly
But the Chinese typically are easily tipsy
This mix is kind of risky
One turns so incredibly red
And the other can get so drunk, you'd see two heads

I feel I am constantly at war
One side always wanting more
Felt the pretense behind closed eyes,
  composed vibrations of rhetoric              
   freelancing in executing ignis fatuus

drank the kool-aid of your own grandeur
   a punch drunk conviction's onus
   in false pretenses of a  mislead head trip

a study in contradiction's convulsions
    simmered of half past lucid judgement,
   junctures of reality submersed
      in cloudy formations
        impervious to reasoning*

...a saga written upon piqued skies of indifference
Mark Tilford Apr 2016
Why do you not share  
Out of fear ?
Scared?
Your fantasy
Of
*******
or of
Big *****
The touch of a whip
Your fantasy
of
Women to women
Men to men
A *******
A foursome
One or more
Walking naked through
someone's door
Your fantasy
Of
Dressing like a man
Dressing like woman
Playing doctor and nurse
Your Fantasy
does not have to be
rehearsed
It is not a curse
your
just quenching your thirst
Go ahead let it be the first
Let your hair down
and
Be submersed
In your fantasy
Get out of your agony
It's not insanity
It is a fantasy
of
Sensuality
Sexuality  
There is no shame
in a little pain
You have nothing to lose
Why would you let it be
such a recluse
Let  loose
be seductive
and
corrupted
In
Your fantasy
Share!!
I would just bet your partner would dare
Ady Mar 2014
I've drowned before, in a literal sense of the word.
I, fancying myself adept, bored of shallow waters
dived in to the depths.
However, proving my pride quite wrong, the water
submersed me with its innate and temperate nature
to a world void of breath or zephyr.
I flailed my arms, and kicked my feet; but to the
sapphire liquid my efforts came quiet inept.
Understanding my current disposition, I left myself be
enveloped.
My lungs wailed and burned, the irony hardly lost,
and as I sank towards the muted pit of abysmal blue
I construed of Love's similar tactics.
Because now that I am drowning in the loveliness of
your undiluted singularity;
the resonance of sound, when around you, is dulled by
the  euphony of your voice,
my lungs have a lack of oxygen and the tilt of the colors
of the spectrum are vibrant and mesmerizing.
I've drowned before, in a metacognitive sense of the word.
I, more experienced, don't fancy myself a great swimmer,
because in the torrents of your sea, I am but a mariner
lost in the sublime beauty of exquisite waters.
Don't know if I like the title, perhaps I'll change it later?
Julie Butler Aug 2014
Maybe it's the
champagne or
maybe it's faith
But it's strange
anyway
That we've never
shared space
kind of
deranged
in a way
that I can't
kiss
your
face
I hope it's okay
that I say it
It's on my mind
everyday
I've had so much champagne
I can't deny what I'm saying
it's insane that your face
blinds my right of purveying
or in saying
sometimes saying
it's a game that we're playing
i'm not playing babygirl
it's [your name] i've been saying
it's your face i've been blaming
on every single curve
catch me cursing the verse
your name leaves on my shirt
i disperse it
well of course it's a curse
a voice
I haven't heard yet
so of course i'm submersed
& of course it is yours
& you
the most gorgeous of all
and me a thrown ball in Autumn
watch me fall
watch me fall
watch me fall
watch me fall
ready for fall
Kenya83 Jan 2018
Blue flash, your name in bold black
I’m drawn back
Back to where what I’ve got doesn’t seem enough
Where butterflies rush to the open skies
Where freedom explodes on their coloured wings
For what seems like eternity lifted on white noise
A contradiction of oblivion and intensity
Paused time unaware of anything
Submersed in focused feelings aware of everything
Aware of the rush of heat steam rolling through my body
Prickly heady sensations of arrogant adrenaline
Taking out my feet from under me and my head from any responsibility
But still I smile
My favourite notification drives me wild
Zach Willett Nov 2012
summer wind, aging daisies, whilst you spin tulips in a field.
always been raging gracefully, whilst i gaze upon your form.
treacherous as these waters may seem to some,
this is my life blood.  i am submersed in eros.

dizzy spin, writhing bodies, whilst you cringe in elation.
talk is thin, striving deeply for a demolition of the end.
as endless as this may seem, i know it is finite.
this is truth.  i will submerse myself in you.
Michael Briefs Aug 2017
I.
She moves like life from water!
She springs forth like the bubbling brook,
Splashing free, cool and joyful!
From above she comes, falling from
The grace of the Creator, Mother to Maiden,
From HER to here!

From the lonely droplet,
Clear and oval,
To the lovely rain,
Drenching in elemental purity,
She embodies a universe
Of vanishing, transparent organisms --
All busy like minute motors.
This infinitesimal society of her new self is,
At once, chaotic and harmonic,
Vast in its plenitude
But invisible to entities above.
This is her world within worlds (a cyclical vortex),
Whirling free and purposeful,
Gyrating and making
Things happen!

She grows through her years to the placid pond:
She is calm and open in support of the swimming,
Leaping, floating, flying, green, yellow,
Brown, red, violet, fragrant, sweet and earthy
Communities who have befriended her ---
We surround her, humming our odes maternal.

She evolves to the raging river and plummeting falls;
A being of turbulence --
Rushing, plunging
And exploding into the air!
Submersed within, she sculpts a sharp edge
Of wit and cunning; subsumed inside the surging flood,
She shapes smooth circulars,
The stones of her ideals, hard-won,
Perfected for her slingshot battle-cry!
Her watery voice is now a full-throated roar,
Haughty, rebellious and self-possessed!
With it, she will stand against and subdue the giants
Who dare to constrain her purpose or deny her worth!
Still, the sonar of her soul also emits waves
More limpid:
The lyrical, ripple-pulse of the river,
Melodically mingled
With the shifting sunbeam and the wafting breeze.

There are sensual silences of unspoken longing
That spill, slip and spin upon quieter currents.
She emerges with all these energies…
Our homes may drift asleep in her care.
We move and live over her wet,
Strong, sultry shoulders.
She carries us through our lives.

Her destiny is, finally, joined to Mother Ocean.
Vast. Powerful. Earth-embracing.
She lets go of doubt as she is drawn into it –
Undeniable, unrelenting, untamed.
Caught in the undertow of desire, of
****** rapture, her tinder temple trembles.
She is lost in a clinging, clutching chaos, quaking
From the erogenous flesh and *** of her source.
All of her essence dissolves into a spherical suffusing;
A filling and expanding need.
Deeper…
Darker -- a sounding blue inside her.
The leviathan of lust descends, arriving at a level
Teaming in mysteries.
Here, there are a myriad of eyes searching
In the hot marrow within.  
Above, the thunder, wind and riptide wave;
Below…the deathly, serious
Silence that reveals the primordial
Drone of the universe –
The vibration of the heart of God --
In the midst of all things known or merely intuited.
Wisdom uttered in a language we hear, we understand,
But we fear to speak…
Yet, in a twinkling of the eye, sometime further ahead,
Above the storm,
We will know,
Speak from our hearts,
And be safe, in her fathomless arms.  

II.
The Man: He is a volcano.
He is pure earth, he is unruly fire-lathe.
He is stone, he is air, and he is the gravity
Which girds the foundation.
He is a destroyer and
He is the
New creation at dawn –
Cooled off, enriched, and potent.
He lifts up the trees, the grass, the rose, the shrub.
The birthing and nurturing soil forms around his feet.
Yet rippling amidst the inflorescence and saplings bubbles
A stream or a spring. Her presence is like diamonds, like pearls
In the rich rough -- glinting, splashing and playing in his garden!
He is the green mountain;
He is the red fire within it.
He explodes, in a blinding white,
Causing the new world,
In all its iridescence, to arise!

Woman and the water.
Man and the fire.
Together we are the world, entire.
Our home. Our journey. Our destiny.

Ourselves.
I go deep you may need a man that scratch the surface
I seek the truth if you don't then to me your worthless
for Christ sake I speak verses that life curses
I once was submersed about to join the armed forces
now I'm in the trenches hello poets new menace
y'all are my witnesses I am here to replenish
and if they ****** me it's more waiting on the benches
I'll rest in peace
the truth quenches
The truth cleanses
My message to the masses
I'm just expressing strong unwillingness
in the hopes of improving conditions
where taking lives and getting money aint the mission
I use my intuition first confession
then repentance and your blessing is forgiveness.
On the road to riches
I will always clinch
if they back us in the corner
then we all put up a fist.
© 2013
Terry O'Leary Mar 2017
That crude-spoken Sovereign commands a big stick,
runs the world into ruins, once our bailiwick.
Questioned why, He grins grimly, pale lips slightly pursed:
"Vindication? Straightforward: It's Me and Me First".

(To mesmerise people He’s conjured His spells
with the pride and the power that Lucifer sells –
using tricks of the trade, evil voodoos well-versed
well engendered His mojo: "It's Me and Me First").

His friends (not His foes) form the skeletal men
along trails of dead ends (for they're armed once again)
and they're counting the bones of the bodies dispersed
by His bombastic lyrics: "It's Me and Me First".

The crater walls crumble, the dust drapes and smothers,
as drummers drown screams in the dreams of the others –
while beating and throbbing, like red veins aburst,
bleating echoes redouble: "It's Me and Me First".

A warrior departed to fight for His flag
and returned as a body brought back in a bag;
alas, such are the stories of soldiers coerced
by the Devil's damnation: "It's Me and Me First".

Beneath His thick thumb, the deprived do and die,
when subjected to whims, promised pie in the sky –
yes, His heavy hand rules, and the weaklings be cursed
for accepting His sermon: "It's Me and Me First".

He's minding our business by forging fake fears
and He'll serve and protect as the bogeyman nears
by ensuring our fantasies' phantoms are nursed,
smirking: "why should you worry, It's Me and Me First".

The media moguls flash news so fantastic –
their hearsay on Honcho's forever elastic
with doctrine and hogwash and hype interspersed
'twixt the dictums of hell and of "Me and Me First".

The masses partake in His royal cavalcades
giving chase to the hearses in midnight parades
through the catacomb caves where we're falling headfirst
down the bottomless pit of "It's Me and Me First".

The children in ghettos, like slave mutineers,
vainly venture to flee before youth disappears
but their ship's on an ocean that can't be traversed
for their sails line the abyss of "Me and Me First".

While His Highness drives oxen, He's sipping champagne
thinking "each shares a trough so that none need complain",
but the water hole's drying, we're dying of thirst,
so says "sorry you guys but It's Me and Me First".

A drifter once hinted behind weary tears
"overall the world's dying or so it appears";
He replied with a flash and a sudden outburst:
"yes, but who really cares when It’s Me and Me First"?

In Great Again moments we get the DT's
from His paranoid penchants, quite like a disease,
one which spots us, then rots us, then worse comes to worst
when He utters "just Trust Me: It's Me and Me First".

When profits are plunging (approaching the pits)
He won't give up the ghost or start calling it quits,
instead purges our pockets; again reimbursed,
says (re-groping His kitty): "It's Me and Me First".

The King condescends to a sharing charade
by dispensing desserts at the penny arcade –    
yet while crawling for crumpets, the crowds are dispersed
being slogged by the slogan: "It's Me and Me First".

When faced with the facts, He's the Greatest denier
that global abuse means all life may expire –
He scoffs at the thought that it can't be reversed,
says "it's not about you, no: It's Me and Me First".

With profits performing, He smiles, misinforming  
- of weather that's warming (whilst whirlwinds twist, storming),
- of jungles conforming to nature deforming,
- of bees no more swarming, thawed glaciers transforming
bold mountains to molehills on sand bars submersed –
can the earth persevere when: "It's Me and Me First"?

                        EPILOG
If you're feeling unsettled, there's no need to fret
for it's all a delusion, and lest we forget
He repeats His old mojo (a line well-rehearsed):
"just like almighty Yahweh: It's Me and Me First".

                      EPITAPH
The remains of the deserts and wasteland lie here
where the vacuum implodes and the silence is sere
when retelling the tales of the sagas immersed
in the mythos and legends of "Me and Me First".

The stone statuettes (swapping vain epithets)
consigned rational threats (those that wisdom begets)
to their nothingness nets spread in dank oubliettes,
losing aberrant bets with no real regrets
(scorning pale silhouettes that the conscience besets).

Nonetheless, when the cosmos and chaos conversed
they but hee-hawed the hubris of "Me and Me First”.
Bleeding eclipse splatters anguish, scorching frozen terrain
Reservoir transmits despair, vaporizing humid remains
Noxious fumes plague ventilation, incinerating methane mutilates
Inhumane detonations ignite smog, dismembering shrapnel decimates

Bombardments stimulate hallucinations, assailants discharge magazines
Incendiaries barrage trenches, vulnerability flourishes disease
Artilleries eject carnage, atrocious quarantine impedes retreat
Projectiles massacre infantry, heinous airstrike parries deceit

Howitzer impersonates tempest, kamikaze technique revealed
Nautical battleships converge, perilous adversaries concealed
Submarines launch torpedoes, oblivious warships sealed doom
Submersed submersibles clash, claustrophobic vessels entomb

Drowning agony crushes depths, forsaken lagoon transforms necropolis
Aquatic daemons consume decrepit, infernal torment surrenders providence
Condemned mortals cauterize compassion, genocide exterminates consciousness
Snorkeling corpses mound topside, eradicated infestation forfeited holocaust
Holocaust [May 11, 2017]
Category: History/Fiction/Relative
What if WWII ended differently?
Nicole Lourette Dec 2010
flying into Chi-town
Altoids of various sizes
litter the scenery.
An artfully constructed
playset thrown off
by the skilled placement
of refreshing breath mints.
Maybe they’re off brand,
or perhaps ecstasy,
though I don’t see any
smiley faces or hearts.

I like to look for high school
tracks as we descend.
Forget the football fields,
they’re far less interesting.
Mostly black, though
sometimes gravel, dirt
or red and even
purple once,
though not in Chi-town.
The homestretch extending beyond
each curve;
no hurdles in sight
much less a sand pit.

A mile inland
there is some sort of water.
The body scattered
and split like some
kind of man-made accident.
shallow sand banks
invisible from the ground look
like dead whales.
floating (submersed) there
like lifeless, sandy corpses.
Maybe it’s because of my “Free *****” spree,
but I see whales.

I’ve never been to Chicago,
only in and out of the airport
and catching glimpses of what I
can see through the windows
of Midway.
My good friend has flown with
me once, but we parted at the
big city.
Have you ever wondered why
cities are built like mountains?
the tallest buildings in the
center with everything
else leading up to it?
Kinda like that Verizon commercial
with the magnet and lead…
Maybe I’ll Google it
to find an answer.

There’s a private airport a
little closer.
(Too good for Southwest to land
there). Private jets and runways
too classy to have a White
Castle across the expressway
from it.
They have cornfields.

Even closer now.
The houses larger with matching
sheds and identical roves.
Almost all have pools, makes
sense for a windy city like
Chi-town.
Some are covered and
nasty for the impending
winter. Playsets and driveways,
minimal trees.
I wonder if the children
ever get scared when
the shadow of a 700 series
darkens their windows and slides.
If they look up and feel warmth
in their Children’s Place pants,
throwing their ice cream to the
wind and catapulting into
the comfort of their father’s
arms and then
write about it 13 years
later after they get off that plane.

“Thank you for flying with us
today, please come back and
see us soon.”

A desperate cry for profit
Maahv Z Nov 2014
when the night plunged
darkness took me in its closet
i begin to vouch for the taste
my delights, my dreams
we've got nowhere to go
we've got no secrets
and i stand alone with solitary soul
its a consolation
where else you see real picture
the dusky shadows
and murky humor ..
it does not submersed me in its charm
neither voices
nor people..the happening
it never has..it never did
living in cracked life is a joy
pursuing myself
day by day- endless
to get what i lost
i thank heaven
for the mercy he bestowed me with
staying with me..in my worn out heart
it did mend..it did get widen
and the songs of my wonderings persist
without a desire to be heard or
to be understood
it was a solitary ride
about a soulful thought ..forgetful of any cares
they all turned out to be my weary companions
my the loyalist- the friendliest of all
i slowly took everything out of me
minute to minute..it profoundly wounded my affections
and pinched my soul; all my profane profanity stir up
I refuted with all my confessions; and made it be absent!!
What have I done to you?
Tell me,
What connection do my conscious movements have to you to
Make your limbs itch to reflex
And smite me with?

        the bubbles that burst with
        my submersed words reveal my  
        vehement purpose;
        you ask me why and then drown me more -

I am not made for you, not
Made to make you content, my
Materials are not plethoric nor easily spent
I don't have the means to
Repeatedly sedate you when you
Knowingly defy the warnings and drain the poison
Again and over, and
Foam at the mouth with both love and anger for me
I still just can't forget the burning of garden in spring
Would I be able to get someone to interpret my dream
My vision carries all the pain of my life to bring in string
Beams of light pave way for my eternal little life stream

Love is not ordinary wine be taken from a shop of wine
It carries the essence and fragrance of hand of beloved
Lover in sheer trance cries that you are mine, you are mine
And in intoxication takes the entire bottle by opening lid

The priest deals with exterior while sophist deals interior
Love is what tinkles in clean heart and is not sunburst
Faith is matter of heart hence remains eternal and superior
Surface be damaged while remains intact the submersed

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Gold
Caroline K Oct 2013
I should have said it louder
so you would have understood
and your I'm sorry's mean nothing.
I should have pushed you further
But my bones were weak and hollow,
my veins were submersed in wine,
and the wall was so close.
Stolen in the twilight,
a few stars from my eyes.
They should have been closed,
locked away from your greedy palms.
Awoke with regret,
and a sinking chest.
Disgusted by the body I lay against.
So from under the bed
I grabbed my brown boots.
Without saying more then two words,
walked away from you.
Dressed in the outfit from the night before,
the walk back to my room never felt so long.
Walked up the stairs,
undressed from the sweaty mess.
Turned the *** and watched as
water poured out along with sliver steam.
Head first, so quiet and safe.
Like the one who is miles away.
I pulled my heart string
I heard yours beating in reply.
I remembered that
I was all yours,
and only yours.

I'm so lucky
to have you.
Daniel Farnam Sep 2010
I’ve been swept away
Fallen into yesterday
As nostalgic dreams cloud my mind
I have come to find
That I’ve been spirited away

Floating, falling, fading; in and out of time
Submersed in a reality of past memories
Drowning in the thought of the present
My mind won’t stay afloat in this sea of nostalgia

I’ve been swept away
Haunted by yesterday
As these dreams strangle my mind
I have come to find
That I’ve been spirited away
original
Alessander Jun 2015
“ash”

a swelling fills my chest
it sounds like heavy waves crashing
against jagged cliffs

     stars stars stars

silver spears descend
   i am pierced


        here

through my clavicle

the rain-swept streets waft with reminisces
  like stale perfume on a black wrinkled shirt

            my head half
submersed in water


                tickling my ear

        I can hear my nose breathing
                  heart pounding
                      throat gulping

body floating

                         dismembered
                  

                       in this liquid abyss


               like a spirit lost
                        in the neon-green ether
         of absinthe

                            lips
              press against my shivering skin

                 a warm palm plunges

                            clasps my numb hand

   a light delves

                            into the obsidian chasm

                   pallid faces

      innumerable

materialize

               from a cavernous distance      

fiery orbs combust

              crackling

                                like dry wood

                               in a snowy forest

smoke billows
                                     towards the fathomless night
                            
                             rising

                       rising

                rising

                   chest

swells
                      
waves

     crash
    

lungs

            bells
                          

eyes


ash...

II

“Shadow-Play”

The shadows in the corners of the room
whisper my name
they are the same shadows
by alley ways,
            behind tombstones
       beneath beds
inside my head

over the plains

the highest and whitest of clouds
cast darkest hues

the brightest of suns

i think of you

                         the whispers get louder
                         the curtains flutter
                         the air turns colder

somewhere a murmur

                         shhh

be still   be still  my dear

the rope hanging in the attic
                        the vague visions through the static
                                    the tremors of the addict

shhh
  be still
      my dear

                          love casts its pallor
                                blood on pale collar
                                  i hear you call her


                   by candle lights
                        as rain drops
                               and winds howl
                                       and wood creaks


      
               icy razors lay on warm tubs
                            guillotines fly through the air                
                    birds fall from thick heights
               like notes of despair


don't shake your head
it will all end
soon
in the corner of the room
There
where the shadows call out your name
like the wind sweeps the rain


               pull out a smoke
                    drag over a chair
                          sit by the window
                            and stare


there is the world    there is the world
   you are not a part of
                there is the world
            full of cruel love
        there the children laugh and play
like you never have
or ever could

   It’s understood

                  the rain floods into gutters
                       the once crisp leaves drift
                          they sog and they shudder
                          from spring-autumn skies
                                 down down sewage drains
                                     all truths mask in lies
                                          all love in pain      

shhh  shhh

the shadows the shadows

   they whisper my name

III

eternally…”

I see your spectral silhouette
   hovering on the sea's horizon
      at midnight

  as the surf struggles and collapses
     before my feet

    it's so **** cold
     my gut convulses
      my hands shake
        my being shivers

              your hair whips
                 the dark air
               like thunder

                           the wind lashes
                         my numbed skin with coarse sand


            and it's so dark

                    the moon oscillates wide rings
                            of pallid skeletal light

                               and you flutter there exactly
  where the sun set
       six hours ago

                                 when its afterglow
                    disintegrated
                             pixel x pixel
    

                               your shadowy figure
                                   now beckons

                                      join me
                                    this night
                                and every night

                                    hereafter

                                      love
                          
                              I close my eyes....

                                    ...

dancing and sweating

  we lay in my room

             under burgundy covers

                      reeking of cheap beer
                               and dirt

your ******* still slightly moist
    flung on my chair

  my sticky shirt still emanates smoke
     like an industrial factory

you arms wrap a
Down in the grotto we’d go to swim
Whenever the tide was high
And pouring into the basin there,
At low tide it was dry,
I’d go with the Percival sisters
Who would laugh and call and dive,
While bursting out of their suits, it seemed
A time to be alive.

While Carolyn had the bigger *******
Brittany had the thighs,
Carolyn had the sweetest smile
But Brittany had the eyes,
I never could choose between them for
I loved them both the same,
They’d flaunt themselves in the grotto pool
To them it was just a game.

The light would glimmer within the cave
Reflect off the grotto walls,
And from the roof would echo again
The sound of the girls catcalls,
We’d swim, then climb on a ledge of rock
To dry ourselves in the air,
And listen to water lapping in
From the mouth of the cave out there.

They often would try to bully me
To say who I loved the best,
I’d always say that I loved them both
And they’d say I failed the test,
So one day, standing upon the ledge
They both peeled their costumes off,
And said, ‘now tell us the one you love
Or haven’t you seen enough.’

The sisters’ beauty caught at my throat
And took the most of my breath,
I’d never seen them naked before
Nor since, I swear on my death,
I couldn’t answer, so they got mad
And flung me into the pool,
Then swam around me, ******* and legs
Determined to play the fool.

Brittany trapped me between her thighs
While Carolyn pushed me down,
The water swirled at my head so long
I thought I was going to drown,
But finally they’d had enough of me
Holding me down, submersed,
And I shot up to the surface then
Thinking my lungs would burst.

It’s years since ever we went to swim
Together again, all three,
For finally I had to make a choice,
Which one would marry me.
Brittany’s now my loving wife
For I found between her thighs,
In the grotto swim, when she squeezed me in,
The truth in a world of lies.

David Lewis Paget
Travis Green Oct 2021
No words can express
What you mean to me
Even when I pen this poem
It still won’t do justice
In defining my affection for you
How you dazzle me
With your attractiveness
How your eyes shine
In the midnight time
How your lips excite me
Makes me long to touch them
To see how it feels
To rub my fingers gently
Alongside the surface
Become submersed
In your perfectness

Your thin bearded slimness
Makes me digress
Into exotic territories
Where your gorgeously gleaming skin
Radiates unexcelled sensations within me
Allows me to feel the many joys
Of your adoration
Your exacerbation of sweetness
How exceedingly deep
Your masculinity is to me
How I nurture your extraordinary world
All that your heart forever carries
Francie Lynch Apr 2017
A great greening is on
Along the St. Clair River.
Across it, like hands in tight grip,
The Bluewater Bridge transcepts
A submersed dotted line.
The Stars and Stripes look sharp
Fluttering and greeting us.
Beside it,
The red Maple Leaf in full regalia
Snaps and spins beneath our Spring sun,
Now casting evening shadows easterward.
Donald is rattling Canada now with tarrifs and such, but our flags still fly side by each.
midnight prague Jan 2011
For the first time in years, I lay my head upon my own shoulder
and I weeped, with no trigger, with no particular reason
it was not a heavy pour, a light one, almost dead
I closed my eyes and I was completely submersed in a web
of silver wrapping itself around me
and thought that was my own loneliness
I have never felt this alone
I have never felt this one

the thought of this alone gives me fear
to lay there completely at mercy to my own self
to have finally accepted my own truth
one that I have long manipulated a lie
I myself have been a lie

I have chosen to live my life in this manner
constantly restricting myself from love
executing it, and making it small
draining it, causing a famine in energies
suffocating it, and bleeding it merciless
walking away from it with my heart
bleeding barely beating because I have taken it back from
you and you and you
I stay up late at night and think how will I regain that thing
that was once mine, and in a instant I slip through a crack
in my mind, and it is there again my flesh in my hands

I can see myself already in it
and Im crying and screaming at the top of my lungs
and you hold onto me and beg me not to go
and I with blood running down my cheeks struggle to get away
struggle to escape just as much as I want to stay
and I brake things and hurl my body to the ground
I create a hunger that shrieks so loud
and I drown myself in the sound
the queen of desolate is what I should be crowned
you stand there behind me, lingering in the background
yet again you have watched how I make myself drown


I impose my own judgement and wonder if its an incorrect soul
or if I make it a rule upon myself to believe that this is so
my hands are open
my chest is open
my legs are open
my heart
my heart
is open

I hold life like a curtain in front of me
and I take a knife that I made with the barbaric woman within myself
and I cut straight down the middle, with a wordless expression
I want to know what is behind it
I want to touch those things that will make my fingertips burn
I want to come close to things that will make my hair rise
I want to rid of this state of mind
and learn how to become more wise
Tee Mar 2015
---
if my reality is just a program

within another verse

and white-robed lanky scientists

observe my brain submersed

then all will seem to be for naught

and every dream corrupt

but at the very least they'll know

that i would not give up
Emily Oct 2013
I practically always feel so unattractive
Don't even feel worthy of being approached by people
What a tragedy
I'm always feeling unequal
In comparison to my peers
I feel like I'll never be enough
And that's one of my biggest fears
My adolescence was no help
It ruined me
Made me think I'd have nothing else
I gave up on myself
And let my emotions control me
I drowned in my own consciousness
Now my mind will never be free
I keep hoping for the day
When I'm courageous enough
To follow through with what I say
But again and again
I'm submersed in my weakness
I'm brought back to the start
Thinking *I really need this
© Peyton 2013
Jonathan Noble Aug 2013
Nothing to give, I offered my nothing for the something you gave to be given.
Forged in the fiery furnace of creation, creating creativity to create and enliven;
Not to be horded and hidden, guarded in greed, ensconced in my darkened soul,
But as gifted gift, to be gifted, like the lighted flame not concealed under bowl.    

But I’m walking this street,
And hearing the beat
Of the heart of every one I meet.  

And I’m seeing the hands,
Of the wandering bands
Of empty souls with no demands.  

Gift offered, none to receive,
Love given, none believe
And so tired and weary, I grieve.  

Sun-baked land, dry with no rain and for rain I begged to quench my thirst.
Stirred from the heavenlies, then sweet water of Life you sent and submersed,
But not my burning only to quench, but quench the burning of others so dry,
As you rained to be rain, you flow to flow through me, healing balm to apply.  

But I’m walking this street,
And I’m hearing the beat
Of the hearts of every one I meet.  

And I’m seeing the hands,
Of the wandering bands
Of empty souls with no demands.  

Gift offered, none to receive,
Love given, none believe
And so tired and weary, I grieve.  

Everything you have given me, then, I give back to you, all for nothing more.
Consumed in the fiery furnace of oblivion, to walk through death’s dark door,
Crushed and crucified on this blood-soaked cross I lifted up and chose to carry,
And yet does your voice drift in on the wind, “What I give you I do not bury.”  

But I’m walking this street,
And I’m hearing the beat
Of the hearts of every one I meet.  

And I’m seeing the hands,
Of the wandering bands
Of empty souls with no demands.  

Gift offered, none to receive,
Love given, none believe
And so tired and weary, I grieve.  

And will you hear me and relieve?
Your mercy now give to receive,
And your love new life to weave?

... as I darkly walk this street
... hearing the forlorn beat
... of every empty heart I meet.
Propitious clouds fill the horizon, blocking cosmic rays
Emanating from a lingering celestial beast.
On these grounds of substance, humanity subsists with a curiosity
Unquenchable mouths and minds
-- we begin a rampant search for meaning.
The vibrations of our search loosen the crust, exposing the fleeting nature of being
Bewildered by this discovery we blind ourselves with faith, as if we deserve more

Unable to see, we flee in a direction unknown for the chance that it may remedy our pleas. A shadowy remembrance of these requests ripple across arid aspect. Heedlessly stumbling upon past, present, and future, we careen towards the eminence of death. Desires fumes overwhelm, collapsing beneath these earthly plumes. Our last breathe exclaims,”Life is pain, for we are submersed in the mundane!”

Sensationally-- as our hearts begin to tread their last beats
Droplets of clarity deluge our dire thirst
-- propitious clouds that once smothered the horizon
Bequeath themselves of all significance, affixed at high noon

Exposing anew the celestial beast that emanates a sanguine gleam
Reflecting in the pools that surround our pulpy minds
The Year Nov 2011
Map
I want all this creativity, culture, experience. I want all of it.
When do I find the time to sleep?
Cause when I do my dreams don’t come.
Why can I only dream when I am awake?
It scares me, what is wrong with me?
I fill my head with others images, desires, thoughts
Where am I
When I am not there?
Submersed, overridden, delayed
Too slow.
I know I have what I need to be great.
I know it is there.
But where am I?
Lizabeth Malone Mar 2015
Drown me in your water
Shove my face in your general direction
Being near to you is the kind of asphyxiation
I could live with as I'm crashing
Into the bottom of your seas
And undulating with the waves you make
For me, just for me.
The ocean and I will be one when it fills my lungs
And you put all of your weight on me
To make sure I'm totally submersed
In the water that you made because apparently
You know what I need better than I know myself
Even if that means I'm left with a single
Bubble of air
A drop of hope in a sea of dominance
A molecule of fuel for a fire that could never
Have been contained under the water that you gave
To me, just to me.
A single piece of myself left there until discovered
By you
So you reach into me and fish it out
Leaving me with nothing
Nothing, but myself as a part of you
Wanderer Oct 2012
Open palms red and sore from ringing
Grandfather clock ticking away down my hopes for tomorrow
I toss and turn all night dreaming black ink bleeding  along the edges of my aching,  submersed mind 
Where were you when my hands were tied?
My mouth sewn shut against their ignorance 
Always another ribbon to cut
A line to cross
When you are ready to wake up and see, actually focus
On the here and now
I'll be here to show you that we are ALL born free
One at time with not just the blood of war on our hands
But stars of wonder in our eyes

— The End —