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"swelters" poems
Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight? Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows, Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish, Baring teeth that leer like skulls' teeth wicked? Stroke on stroke of pain, - but what slow panic, Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets? Ever from their hair and through their hands' palms Misery swelters. Surely we have perished Sleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish? - These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished. Memory fingers in their hair of murders, Multitudinous murders they once witnessed. Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander, Treading blood from lings that had loved laughter. Always they must see these things and hear them, Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles, Carnage incomparable, and human squander Rucked too thick for these men's extrication. Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormented Back into their brains, because on their sense Sunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black; Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh. - Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous, Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses. - Thus their hands are plucking at each other; Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging; Snatching after us who smote them, brother, Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.
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2.2k
Mental Cases
the air swelters as i remain static and my chest has become the shoreline where the sea of your breast heaves in and out in a vicious tide your impulsive moans are the roar of waves as they crash against me but your rage lulls into a sensual surf the fluid undulations let us fully appreciate the carnal curves of protruding skin the untouched stones smoothened on my strand and the floor of your ocean yet you pacify even further before your waters still and rest calmly in steady breaths on my elated sands
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Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:00 AM UTC
coastal harmony //
Junk sickness unearths this Deep-rooted, oozing desperation. Slack jaws, Eyes Bouncing in the back of your skull. Tear through the paper flesh, Scraping for a vein Needing of Molestation, Mutilation, Shredded from that constant need, That whining itch, To feel nothing And everything all at once. Praying for the earth to melt Around the bare bones Of the walking dead. I am But an observer Stuffed in the back seat While needles clog, Blood surges, Rage stirs. I am Just a spectator To their universe coming to a Creeping Dull thud, As they dream of better days that will Surely come. I am Not sure If it's possible to dig yourself Back up From the depths of a self-made grace. I am Not sure If there is life after dope. Lust swelters, The shot is done, We drive on.
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Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
When you're wandering the city with junkies
. We stalked and ran with endless time, Knee deep in rains of muck, grew lost In tails of the always new, overreached By trammeled spots, dotting, red wings From black birds, knobby toads, garter Snakes that shocked, marigold swamp And we bolted above ruddy moccasins, As ever wet, holey, dying for new days, Gleaming in the swelters of the horse- Fly sun, in the giants' grasses, we were Heroes by the falls of light, glow, dusky Bold, joys travail and dewy eyes echoed With sprite flashes by the flies that fired. And all our conquests— writ in the wind.
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Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
In the Marshes of Youth
*summer heat like a rifles barrel, swelters through me, i see her with wandering eyes, shots fired, oh im alive! pulse quickens in an agonizing heart beat, shes two steps too close, arms around my neck like satin and smelling of rose... the world.. stops   the clock ticks, it tocks. lips lock I measure time in the burgundy red marks on my neck... one hour...two hours three hours four.. how in gods name did i end up on the floor? cheeky smiles wripple through ghostly sheets reverberating into giggles expelled through the air around me I swear im in heaven....no,just my bedroom floor, but ive not had enough!, i climb up the bed sheets challenging as the steepest mountain.. colapsing upon the summit, flag in hand the curves of her hip...pouts can be heard...solved with loving kiss...moments of bliss turned sour to sweet...* L.G
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Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
Looking down the barrel
As we reach the peak of summer And the index swelters Our skin wet Dripping in sweat We curse the sun And pray for the night We long for the days Overcast and grey When the trees pallor And their leaves scatter The satisfying Crunch Crunch Crunch And walks through the park Sidewalks mimic the sunset light Suddenly our lives are painted Orange, yellow, red I'll mutter "I'd like to see autumn in New York some day Evening coffee with you in a café" Pedestrians strolling by New jackets in polyester, cotton, and wool Darker denim and Show off the boots In the summer months In the southern states we long for We pray for We wait for A breezy chill And time to **** With the ones we love As night falls And the stars rise The air is stained with smoke Fires are stoked The fireplace tokes Take my July Give me October Summer is plain Autumn is for lovers
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Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
Give Me October
We stalked and ran with endless time, Knee deep in rains of muck, grew lost In tails of the always new, overreached By trammeled spots, dotting, red wings From black birds, knobby toads, garter Snakes that shocked, marigold swamp And we bolted above ruddy moccasins, As ever wet, holey, dying for new days, Gleaming in the swelters of the horse- Fly sun, in the giants' grasses, we were Heroes by the falls of light, glow, dusky Bold, joys travail and dewy eyes echoed With sprite flashes by the flies that fired. And all our conquests— writ in the wind.
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Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
In the Marshes of Youth
( Sonnet ) We stalked and ran with endless time, Knee deep in rains of muck, grew lost In tails of the always new, overreached By trammeled spots, dotting, red wings From black birds, knobby toads, garter Snakes that shocked, marigold swamp And we bolted above ruddy moccasins, As ever wet, holey, dying for new days, Gleaming in the swelters of the horse- Fly sun, in the giants' grasses, we were Heroes by the falls of light, glow, dusky Bold, joys travail and dewy eyes echoed With sprite flashes by the flies that fired. And all our conquests— writ in the wind.
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Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 3:30 PM UTC
In the Marshes of Youth
We stalked and ran with endless time, Knee deep in rains of muck, grew lost In tails of the always new, overreached By trammeled spots, dotting, red wings From black birds, knobby toads, garter Snakes that shocked, marigold swamp And we bolted above ruddy moccasins, As ever wet, holey, dying for new days, Gleaming in the swelters of the horse- Fly sun, in the giants' grasses, we were Heroes by the falls of light, glow, dusky Bold, joys travail and dewy eyes echoed With sprite flashes by the flies that fired. And all our conquests— writ in the wind.
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Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
In the Marshes of Youth
As the sun swelters, I wear the sky with clouds to keep me light and breezy.
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Jul 2, 2019
Jul 2, 2019 at 1:53 PM UTC
Haikuesday July 2, 2019
(sonnet) We stalked and ran with endless time, Knee deep in rains of muck, grew lost In tails of the always new, overreached By trammeled spots, dotting, red wings From black birds, knobby toads, garter Snakes that shocked, marigold swamp And we bolted above ruddy moccasins, As ever wet, holey, dying for new days, Gleaming in the swelters of the horse- Fly sun, in the giants' grasses, we were Heroes by the falls of light, glow, dusky Bold, joys travail and dewy eyes echoed With sprite flashes by the flies that fired. And all our conquests— writ in the wind. .
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Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 1:59 PM UTC
In the Marshes of Youth
Short circuits in my brain strain my mind to keep me alive Music that flows through daily skipping, less meaning is derived Less meaning derived, anxiety comes alive Face to face with reality with no place to hide No place to hide since music is the shelter I want to hide away but my community swelters If you're integrated, then you soon become needed So that you can have an excuse to keep out of the deep end The barrier that separates the best from the sad Is a melody driven by emotion and cultural fads It's a fine line with a really strong cadence That I march to, resulting in a semblance of patience I wade through the water, and it's crystal clear As I go in deeper, less people are near When it's up to my neck, that's when I hear my songs Lovers of music would even say I'm using it wrong When I hear the songs, they make me turn around No, you're not alone, yeah, we're all that down Hypnotizing music forces me out of the deep end Heading back to community, trying to make amends In the water, expectations regulate what you see Like it says on the schedule, this is where I should be When I look in your eyes, you look at me the same We both signed up, but are we pawns of the game? Either way it's secure, swimming with all the fish But opening up my mind causes aquatic drift So how can I feel while staying on the inside? Is it easier to just be blind? Where this all leads to is hard to say So I survive by sensations I enjoy day to day It's fairly methodical and it feels so clean Which is logical for musical media machine Like me
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Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 12:34 PM UTC
Musical Media Machine
Short circuits in my brain strain my mind to keep me alive Music that flows through daily skipping, less meaning is derived Less meaning derived, anxiety comes alive Face to face with reality with no place to hide No place to hide since music is the shelter I want to hide away but my community swelters If you're integrated, then you soon become needed So that you can have an excuse to keep out of the deep end The barrier that separates the best from the sad Is a melody driven by emotion and cultural fads It's a fine line with a really strong cadence That I march to, resulting in a semblance of patience I wade through the water, and it's crystal clear As I go in deeper, less people are near When it's up to my neck, that's when I hear my songs Lovers of music would even say I'm using it wrong When I hear the songs, they make me turn around No, you're not alone, yeah, we're all that down Hypnotizing music forces me out of the deep end Heading back to community, trying to make amends In the water, expectations regulate what you see Like it says on the schedule, this is where I should be When I look in your eyes, you look at me the same We both signed up, but are we pawns of the game? Either way it's secure, swimming with all the fish But opening up my mind causes aquatic drift So how can I feel while staying on the inside? Is it easier to just be blind? Where this all leads to is hard to say So I survive by sensations I enjoy day to day It's fairly methodical and it feels so clean Which is logical for musical media machine Like me
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Swelters, consumes, and ignites All aspects of the body, heart, and mind. Burns boldly, brightly, dangerously Souls collide and intertwine. Sweeping, taking, fighting, tearing Desires entertained and lusts craved In the name of fiery rendezvous Passion prevails...Passion saves.
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Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 8:29 PM UTC
Passion
The morning light is creeping unto my window sill, it was warm and sweet, but agony in its rising from the ground. summer doesn't stain me any shade of pink, I remain a pallid white of cadaverousness. the birds sing their birdsong to any ear that listens, but as the flowers fall from trees, ears a lended elsewhere. towards the monetary dictator, a tyrant in its blood, we disregard the flowers our snow it comes as floods. the birth of warmth it boils, swelters in God's midst, a year is marked, and death - will give their graceful Kiss.
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Dec 12, 2020
Dec 12, 2020 at 4:05 AM UTC
the morning light would rage
with temps being so high a body swelters in the heat there is no reprieve
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Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 9:51 PM UTC
Haiku
“The Last of the Knife” The mountain rises in the distant mist The desert swelters with a pungent kiss Could it be we’ll see the end of this From underneath the trees I thought I’d seen you running down the lane Just a glimpse but I could feel your pain Your face showed lines of running from the shame Trying to hide the blame How long has it been How bad is the need How deep cuts the knife How much can you bleed I’m looking for signs I’m looking for life I’m hoping to see The last of the knife Maybe someday we’ll see a world in peace Where the common man can find release Could it be we’ll see the hate will cease Find the golden fleece How long has it been How bad is the need How deep cuts the knife How much can you bleed I’m looking for signs I’m looking for life I’m hoping to see The last of the knife The mountain rises in the Distant mist
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Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
The Last of the Knife