"submersion" poems
slipping in her wet painted petal
bitten by the sting of his bee
her first time, he fumbles being gentle
excitement dancing in his driving need
instinctively possessed
arcing her hips experimentally
his maleness sweetly carressed
teasing his need, tremendously
each submersion in her sweetness
peaking waves swelling in her breast
entwining rhythmic explosiveness
pulsating gush, plunging over the crest
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 8:34 PM UTC
Soon the sky will be painted in long strokes of sunlight that fade to night,
And the Sun will retreat below the horizon,
Slipping under in its predictable submersion,
And we used to be afraid of the dark that follows,
But now we are not.
And now we have grown strong enough to ward off darkness with thoughts of
Sunlight.
Sunlight and sunshine,
And the rays that bounced off my eyes into yours,
Binding us.
Together we have learnt how to see through to the next dawn,
Through each other we have learnt how to find our light in another's eyes.
And now, Sunset is coming,
And we know that darkness will follow,
But I am no longer afraid.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC
It drifts as time moves
The concentration the same, the fluid stretched thin
Going from lake to creek
Same material
Different movement
Different shape
Reviving itself
Lakes compound stagnation
with benefits of submersion
with risk of drowning
Beware of drifting
a base deprived of sun
Creek is movement
Life is passed through
No depth
Traded for flow and conservation
Calming, no splashes
Feels white, Visible trenches
Gather your footing.
Time is key, purpose fatal
Each becomes the other
Only if the path is given
Evolution of matter
Calming of peril, Understood change
The muck of the chest
runs babbling through the ditches of skin and bone
Without this
Movement
Stops.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 3:00 PM UTC
A dictionary will tell you
that drowning
is the submersion in and inhalation of water.
But I know the truth.
I am drowning in sadness
and loneliness
and despair.
In grief.
In isolation.
In self-criticism.
I'm drowning in my thoughts.
I'm drowning in desires
and emotion
and passion.
In anxiety.
In darkness.
In depression.
I'm drowning in fallen dreams, regrets, mistakes.
I'm drowning
I'm drowning
I'm drowning
and not a drop of water in sight.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 7:28 PM UTC
My body is sixty percent water,
and I attempt to float with the oil,
coasting with closed eyes and mind.
But I am sinking to the bottom of the glass,
where cold, hard rocks bruise with the truth,
and I press my hands to the glass to keep myself standing.
Although the rocks ground me,
the submersion chokes my throat.
If I crack the glass with my bare hands,
the acid-laced arrows will lacerate my back,
and I will be a trembling target fading into mist.
but the gentle breeze will greet me with open arms.
Apr 2, 2022
Apr 2, 2022 at 9:06 PM UTC
i'm sure
life was a peach
til he was born breach
but the inversion of his excursion
into the hands of the surgeon left him worse an'
the immersive submersion
in perversive subversion
was only urgin'
the incursion
of aspersions
for subversive diversion
as
an apparition with volition
wishin for position transition
fishin for recognition
of ambitious cognition
this in addition
to the malicious conditions
that stitched in repetitions
of neurochemical
composition
transmissions
entailing
the intensity of his propensity
to find immense suspense in the
density of a tense city hence did he
commence in the dispensary
of sound condensed sensory
sensory sensory sensory.
said the intensity of his propensity
to find immense suspense in the
density of a tense city hence did he
commence in the dispensary
of sound condensed sensory
sensory sensory.
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 7:33 PM UTC
Cancer:
You bathe at night; soak
in the indigo twilight.
Exhausted from the
overload of emotion,
the lunar light cleansed your soul.
Leo:
Charming and cunning,
like the lion, you stalk your
prey. Find the weakness
and exploit it; start the fire,
and then claim your innocence.
Scorpio:
You are the end and
beginning of the cycle.
Reincarnation;
Take the heat, and rise from the
ashes in your final form.
Aquarius:
Water bearer, you
bring life to this alien
landscape. Barren and
undiscovered, this is your
chance to change the world. Long live
your work of innovation.
Virgo:
Tree branch rib cage and
ivy veins that nurture your
winter-bitten soul.
Precious sunlight has returned;
your garden will bloom again.
Aries:
The war going on
inside your brain is growing
tiresome. Your strength
is that of the ram, but you
can't always be the hero.
Pisces:
Submersion. Scared and
eye-level with the Angler.
Take pleasure in the
aesthetic. Perhaps a change
of perspective was needed.
Sagittarius (Father Jupiter Would Be So Proud):
Goddess of the hunt,
your need for adventure and
fearless heart combines
and incarnates the wander-
lust warrior that you are.
Capricorn:
Eyes like a doe; she
is wise, nurturing, and vast.
Motherly strength is
the coat worn over bared bones
and bruised knees. She's her own crutch.
Libra:
Neither side of your
scale may touch the ground.
Chaos may welcome
you with open arms, but she
will grow cold and deranged, love.
Taurus:
Though you are stubborn,
your heart is made of feather,
you fierce, burly ox.
Romantic and devoted,
the darkness in you is gold.
Gemini (The Twin Flame):
How exciting and
infuriating it must
be to look in the
mirror to face your best friend
and your greatest enemy.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
my anger is a submersion
and like a deep current
that pushes its darker waves
angularly
I go under
my anger is a fear
that growls its last hurt
as the hunter chases
and strangles
veins that
turn blue
my anger is a question
of strange events
too painful
that now bare no connection
to me
my anger is a plea
that I am not
the hunter or the hunted
but I am free
to walk upon the fields
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 11:11 AM UTC
Look!
I'm super ******* clean!
I stepped into the falling water
and inched my way toward total
submersion. It was steaming hot
and my skin had yet to acclimate.
Upon said acclimation I lathered
up a palmful of smell-good gel
and got to work on my armpits
and my torso. I washed my way
down to my belly button and then
I retrieved another handful of body
wash. As I worked it into my hair
then my beard, and I used the excess
suds to scrub my **** and my nuts.
From there I covered my thighs and
worked down my legs. I turned away
from the showerhead and scrubbed
my ******* clean with one more dollop
of Old Spice. I stepped into the burning
streams of water and rid myself of the
day's sweat and grime in one big,
dark puddle swirling down the drain.
I took one more dab of soap and
worked it into a foam.
But I hesitated before I washed my face,
because I realized that I had just
*scrubbed my *******
with the same hands I use to
*wash my ******* face** with.*
But I then sighed and did it anyway.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 9:18 PM UTC
Hounds
The hounds are barking again outside my window.
they are snarling and snapping with teeth of ice
that rips my tears into a tundra of frost.
The indifferent air carries their hunger
under the unhinged door in my head;
a gale is coming, feral and wild.
I am not comfortable in my head right now;
Chain smoke to keep my hands to myself.
I wander through ash and fire: what have I done?
Planets
I am helpless against my misfiring neurons;
numbed against myself and you;
Pills streak like comets across the bed.
In the sky the stars peer in confusion,
planets misalign again, a sun implodes,
Earth groans and shifts, somewhere something dies.
Swirling galaxies light up the synapses
Serotonin battles amphetamine
Orion stalks the twins and unsheathes his sword.
Submersion
I need some water on my feet, my head;
submerge me in the Lethe and bathe me in forgetfulness
the room grows hot and I swallow another star.
I am swathed in your concern, smothered by your regard.
I need clear air to think,
the night and the susurrus of hibiscus bathed by the moon.
Inside my room in my bed
white noise and white sheets wrap me,
bundle and bind me tighter than panic.
No, I will not go outside tonight.
The hounds are barking outside my window-
they come for me.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
1.
You remembered June when this morning's sun
was there with the care of a father's hand
etching each leaf into filigree--
or with the unsequestered heart of a crazed lover
with his impossible love letters and artifacts
of century's old over-ripened fruits
that even as they hung precariously from the oaks
dazzled and made space for the stark blue.
A change from last night.
The constellate, dispersing fog
that brought the sense
of an overwhelming descent to a seabed,
the submersion a baffling return to a night
from childhood, enclosed at all ends
and unknowable. A shut book.
2.
Warmth lingers on skin even after
a few minutes of exposure, a caress.
Then, step outdoors and the wind,
whose listlessness and beauty
picks up your step and hurries you on
with characteristic mercilessness
through the cold.
While you were sleeping and roaming and reading
it has crept into the uninhabited crevices,
under doors, fuseboxes, the shades of streetlights
to mold like frost.
3.
Cold is a life-form,
growing and budding in the absence of green.
And it is at this time of year we strangle
the neck of uncertainty.
The sun peeks. The cold air climbs
out of the bottoms and hollows of things.
When it reaches an excitement, as now,
her absence reveals herself:
there is nowhere you can touch her body.
She is the thousand particles
she is the spacing in between:
twirling, gathering and thrusting through the streets,
she calls you to witness her now as she comes
like a first snow.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 12:27 PM UTC
I am afraid to write about you
The cushioned dark corner I have placed you in
Could suddenly become back lit with soft candle glow
Or blindingly bright mid-summer sun blaze
I became photosensitive to your light years ago
These emotional sunglasses, black out curtains for my vulnerability
Are all that stands between my willpower and the truth of it all
You are delicious. Dangerous.
Completely wrong and perfect for me all in one bad decision
Time passes, memories fade, so I turn back to take another sip
Tip toes become full submersion
Why does it have to be so easy to drown in you?
I use drowning as a way to describe the sensations you evoke
Not as some romantic metaphoric notion
You are Deepness.
The surface only a tease.
You are Suffocation.
Lungs struggling with their intent to breathe.
I know this but yet continue testing these waters
One day, perhaps soon
I will not resurface.
Stones sink heavy in the heart of a sinner
Taking my better judgement with me
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 7:06 AM UTC
It's like my heart can't contain you.
It's like I've let go of what was needed to let go of
to let you in.
And it's beyond my expectations
like slipping my feet into the beach
and finding my toes
underneath soft, warm sand
warmed by the sun.
And for so long I've denied myself
happiness.
And for so long I've forced this picture that what I want
is better than what I truly need.
And I'm trying to understand why I had to give up one failed romantic relationship
in order to find another that is a hundred times better.
I realized that I had fallen
in love with my own poetry
I'd fallen in love with myself again and again and again
never truly allowing myself to fall
in love with anyone in reality
because my fantasies were so much better.
And then I met you
the beach, the sand, the cold lip of water lapping against my ankles
the submersion of water, salt, seaweed, and foam
your warm hand in my own
fingers latching
the beautiful sunrise
softly, strongly touching
a horizon stretching so many miles away but in one swift look
I saw balance. I saw joy. I saw the colors I've always loved and hoped to see one day.
It's like my heart can't contain you.
And the ocean is calling me home.
That giant expanse of glistening water reflecting the sun's willful welcome as a new day begins
so daunting so beautiful so overwhelming in its stark grandness
so familiar this feeling.
It's like I've known you for a very long time.
It's like I've found myself smiling with the waves now pressing against my gut
white sea foam dissolving quickly
tickling my torso
making me laugh
loud belly laughs
mouth stretched wide and daring
teeth showing
eyes crinkling
body shaking
legs trembling
The ocean of your love
is calling me home.
Am I ready to dive deeper?
Am I ready to submerge not just my torso but my head as well?
What if I can't breathe underwater?
What if I can't open my eyelids?
It's like my heart can't contain you.
But then I touch my neck
and find gills.
But then I touch my eyes
and find goggles.
And then I know
that I'm ready to dive.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC
The oceans surround me
As I drown in this sea known as life
Friends of old and new talk all about me;
I smile and nod to all the same.
Not laughing, nor cheering as I used to.
Becoming mute and silent.
What has happened?
What is this curse I have endured?
No speech, emotions, nor life!
Have I become a mummy walking about without the bandages?!
I feel suffocated and overwhelmed.
Drowning in salt water, filling my lungs; making my hair stream down with trickles of rain drops then submersion.
I have lost myself somewhere.. In this ****** sea.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
You know,
A warm summer night
Can blister my skin.
Make me pray
For the slightest breeze.
Make my eyes droop with fatigue.
Keep me awake.
Dangling just out of reach of slumber.
But if you say my name
In your hushed tone.
If you look at me
With equal laze in your eyes.
It can cool me inside
Like a submersion into the sea.
I can't wait for the winter
© NDHK
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 1:24 PM UTC
I told her, "I wanna write a song with you."
Her immediate reaction didn't seem very musical. But she managed to wash down her reluctance with a glass of my enthusiasm. It looked a little too hard to swallow though.
Between you and me... I think she just didn't want to hurt my feelings...
Knew that anything musical we might share in this space would come at a price. Having played piano in the past, she knows…. that every… key... requires effort. Every chord requires contact, every verse must be attacked every note ... needs impact.
Channeling all that we are and hearing the universe equally and oppositely react. Like science ... She knows there's chemistry in this musical contract.
And between you and me... I think she's scared to do that.
She houses pipes that were silenced a while back. Now all noise is mute, all lyrics refute, and the tones are all flat.
She is a little mermaid.
A villain stole her voice at the promise of companionship… and nower days what a bargain that is. String up your vocal chords and I'll meet each pained utterance with a kiss. Make a hostage of your own tongue and I will grant you bliss. I'll be the hiccup in your throat, the stutter in your sentence my sweet nothings will be the only sound you hear. The only tune you’ll dance to. The only lyrics you know.
She ... was choked, by an individual who was more shark than he was man, more predator that he was person, and after all that submersion she can’t look at love without feeling like she’s downing.
Between you and me, I think when her fin was torn into a pair of feet she found it difficult to find any other fish in the sea. Violence is nobodies natural habitat. But like I said was silenced a while back. She made to believe that like every note, each future affection would require impact. And between you and me… I really wanna change that.
I told her “I wanna write a song with you”. Not to test whether she is musically faceted but rather to see if she is still passionate. I wanted to see if my prayers had reached you yet… I wanted you to be okay. Little mermaid who was washed away. I wanted to is you fire stayed, to see you recuperate. In your time at sea you overcome bigger waves. So… sing.
Understand that are the most wonderful lyricist and your pitch and tone are not a akin heartache and woe, you can be loud. Be proud in knowledge that any music you make is only the overture, only the beginning to a symphony called “done with this **** I will hear no requiem, you’ll play no finale. The stage is not a battleground. Let there be no more tears in which to drown, sing! Sing and make sea sirens jealous of how mermaids sound
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 4:39 AM UTC
Pressed perfect leaflet papers
printed in black-and-white.
Squares of thin tree bark
scattered on the table.
Your warm, rough hands
fitted in tight gloves.
Your wide smile
teeth like pearls all
clustered nicely and
I can't help but swell
a bit inside
admiring
the twist of your lips
and the flicks of your eyes
with a nose that changes
shape in the light.
But it's not your face
that intrigues but
the ***** in between
the space of skull
called a brain
which you use, delightfully so
expansive and ever expanding.
You have an eager fondness
for learning and retaining information
and it arouses me.
Like the frailty
of those printed papers
my tenderness
for you
envelopes, caressing
your knowledge like
a streamline submarine
diving through dark waters
slippery and unafraid
to get wet.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 1:10 AM UTC
I shut off my power and my phone in an attempt to recalibrate, which is why I haven’t been posting lately. I go for a two hour walk everyday after work, talk to weird people, as well as make friends with stray animals before going home and playing my guitar until sundown. I light some candles and sit next to my open window and read until the Coast2Coast show comes on my crank radio and I listen until I fall asleep. The cold shower in the morning takes some serious ***** but after defeating the cold shower I have noticed my productivity at work sky rockets, as nothing that I will face through out my day will require the will power that is required in facing cold water submersion first thing in the morning. I have been writing the old school way with a silver Cross pen in a sketch book my mother had bought me for my 18th birthday, and boy have I forgotten what a pain it is to do edits with pen and paper.
I was growing bitter, self destructive, and unappreciative, and I figure I needed to hit rock bottom to appreciate the little things again. Thus far it is working, and I am only two weeks in. I am shooting for October 1st before I turn the power on. The phone may come sooner, as my boss is ******** I am attempting to build my body, mind and spirit as a result of my looming feelings of forlorn that have been pressing in on me in an almost shout that I have mostly ignored the past couple of years, but the time of putting my instincts aside has ended. My ear is to the ground and my eyes are to the sky and once I am full of what these fill me with, I will speak of what I have found. Be well friends, and see you soon.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
the shark ambush
the corrupt crux of a handmade answer
the waters that fill with scarlet blood
animals that thrash with hearts in their jaws
the deep gulp taken before the submersion
the ultimate fear plastered on grim faces
pointy teeth shredding silky skin
bleeding guts
the rush of control must overpower such a creature
Jan 12, 2023
Jan 12, 2023 at 8:36 PM UTC
To prevent men’s gaze, confirming her religious
Conviction, she wore a veil-black as ink, dark as coal-
No man could henceforth lust after her
Driven wild by the sight of her skin. Jump her.
Strip her. **** her! She drifted forever like
A ghost, an object, a hollow shell.
Only her husband saw her beauty.
And after him, another.
The institution of marriage demanded
Cloaks of invisibility, walls of ubiquity, anonymous
Submersion into gender.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 2:40 PM UTC
————
maybe
i am embarrassing
myself. i think
about air conditioning and
a set of blue eyes
hovering above my ******
in my embarrassment i want
to be held.
hold me, it's the new word
for torture.
hold me, let's
practice
submersion.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
I sink my mind into deep open water
imagining myself floating in the cold abyss
the silent reverberating sound of my submersion
is like the womb of a mother
quiet yet pulsing
Here I lay myself to sleep
transfixed on tranquility
deep in thought removing all
fear
anger
hate and disgust
self revulsion
And open my mind to the nothingness
to get over the days battles
I sink into the darkness
and pretend to meet the end
Aug 31, 2010
Aug 31, 2010 at 7:14 AM UTC
If your eyes can hear the words
If you ride phrases to another place
If your heart exhausts itself in submersion
The poem breathes success.
If the words claw at your eyes
If phrases keep you at a distance
If emotion is imbedded between each mark
The poem drowns.
Ring out the tears
and immediate reactions,
Hang out their sources to dry.
Inspiration reflects truer
after a strong wind of patience.
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 1:54 AM UTC
I feel like I'm sinking
I'm going down, to who knows where
And all it is, is beneath me
To say I know it would be remiss
Below, Under, Deeper In
I'll not be able to escape this life.
Because I'm going down
Submerging more--an inch a day
It's a quicksand pit
It's a sea cave and the tide's on the rise
I am Strapped to the wall in the back of the cave
I am falling through quicksand with no hope of a rope
Can't pull myself out
All the kids do it these days
They love Submersion
I guess I've just never gone with the flow
Why start now?
I'll find a rope,
cut my ties,
and Start
To
Fly
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC