"tremulously" poems
forgive me my darling
hollow beauty
but seeing you so gaunt
with
sunken dark eyes
and skin like gray soap
makes me feel
your easily breakable
already so close to death
my **** could crack your pelvis
and bird delicate ribs
inspired skeleton dancing
your body exclaims to all
a sensual exhibition
of slow suicide
my bloodless blossom
brave breatharian
your favorite math
subtraction
by multiplied
delicious starvations
you may need a strong man
deaths final instrument
who will love you
with tender crushes
darkly ******
come naked
spread wide my lovely grotesque
nestle in my arms
coffins embrace
to be bruised
while tremulously kissed
i will turn you to crumbles and powder
to finish sweetly
what you have started so long ago
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 12:41 PM UTC
My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.
I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.
9.2k
Her scarf a la Bardot,
In suede flats for the walk,
She came with me one evening
For air and friendly talk.
We crossed the quiet river,
Took the embankment walk.
Traffic holding its breath,
Sky a tense diaphragm:
Dusk hung like a backcloth
That shook where a swan swam,
Tremulous as a hawk
Hanging deadly, calm.
A vacuum of need
Collapsed each hunting heart
But tremulously we held
As hawk and prey apart,
Preserved classic decorum,
Deployed our talk with art.
Our Juvenilia
Had taught us both to wait,
Not to publish feeling
And regret it all too late -
Mushroom loves already
Had puffed and burst in hate.
So, chary and excited,
As a thrush linked on a hawk,
We thrilled to the March twilight
With nervous childish talk:
Still waters running deep
Along the embankment walk.
8k
one more time, she whispers,
she whispers violently, tremulously, like an addict whispers
to the fingernail marks in her skin, like persephone whispers to pomegranate seeds, like sin, and her whispers collect on dollar bills in the wind, and the money flies home but she's still sitting in that bin,
wondering if Hades ever regretted his win
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 7:40 PM UTC
*are you my lover
in a dark heaven
come to me my beloved
kneel at my feet
naked
as i penetrate your veil
that shrouds cryptic ravenous ardor
and ask of me
your hearts desire
dissolution you say
that i may be eternal
for loves sake
bowing at the knees
as you tremulously brush and sweep your fragrant hair
over my thighs
and run your pink tongue across
my butter filled velvet sheath
our kisses will be born over and over again
a spinning ring of desire
are there not the debts of love
will you promise not to anguish to much
as one harm heaps upon another
you swear to give yourself fully
thrill to kisses crepuscular
aching to be bitten and bitten
and bitten through
your scent
blood perfume
everything about you excites me
long stretches in a stained white gown
wet summer fruit
and spilling seed
your body filled with waters mellifluent
and lush
yield unto me
you are a titillating voluptuous awe
Palisades
of wild torments
dancing on a floor
that melts scorched feet
from
hallucinations invisible shadows
of burning witches ************
sweet girl incandescent
brooding
ridge pole bending
throat swollen parched
crude hair pulling
Medusa vipers in the grip of a god fist
loving you
with a hard drubbing
your all squeals and caresses
stay with me through the long night
of tender kisses and worship
and then prepare for release to paradise
shall it be fast
spiraling
will you spread wide
and plead
for all and more
what does it matter
fluttering with wild abandon
in the temple of rituals dark
to see you writhe
inviting ruin
we are a party of hydras
writing in blood and thunder
in the book of wonders
our hungers endless
Gods and Devils
thrill to our theater
of mortal coils unraveled
in the thick torture tuileries
of Dark Heaven*
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 7:47 PM UTC
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Her scarf a la Bardot,
In suede flats for the walk,
She came with me one evening
For air and friendly talk.
We crossed the quiet river,
Took the embankment walk.
Traffic holding its breath,
Sky a tense diaphragm:
Dusk hung like a backcloth
That shook where a swan swam,
Tremulous as a hawk
Hanging deadly, calm.
A vacuum of need
Collapsed each hunting heart
But tremulously we held
As hawk and prey apart,
Preserved classic decorum,
Deployed our talk with art.
Our Juvenilia
Had taught us both to wait,
Not to publish feeling
And regret it all too late -
Mushroom loves already
Had puffed and burst in hate.
So, chary and excited,
As a thrush linked on a hawk,
We thrilled to the March twilight
With nervous childish talk:
Still waters running deep
Along the embankment walk.
Dec 9, 2009
Dec 9, 2009 at 7:29 AM UTC
i might continue on with that trauma
i might subside.
violation carries with it sensate boons of empathy
blue sky overrun with thanks
arched-back breath
you're afraid to ask me
are your tears painful
but i spear your question with a surplus love
shouting joy
as if there weren't a plea
tremulously groaned
share with me
it isn't just release
sweet freedom laughing out of doors
you and she regaled in bursts
iridescent meaning
hung in curve of lock
nape and open palm
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 10:00 AM UTC
silence is
listening to
your star's
snowmelt...
tremulously visible
droplets.
descend as
prayers struck
between the
eyes.
envisioning.
to life.
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
I am a terrible dancer.
But for you I would dance,
I would twirl and spin and slide,
to whatever music you gave me
my clumsy clomping feet would suddenly
for a moment be graceful,
just for you.
I am a terrible singer.
But for one glance of your smile
I would climb each stumbling, soaring note
I would belt out my love for you
singing along to the radio in our car
tremulously letting song fill me,
just for you.
I am a terrible writer.
But I compose this poem out of
nothing but love for you
-- because I have nothing else --
and I'd rearrange the alphabet
a thousand times over
til it forms the words I want,
just so, on the page,
just for you.
I am a terrible artist.
But I would cut my heart and bleed
my love for you to paint with;
my body to be a sculpted statue
a monument of ******* and hips and desire
only for you.
I am a terrible lover.
But all I can say is that I try, with all my might
for you to know my love, feel my love
and not just when we are entangled in each other but
even when we walk side by side down the street,
when my fingers brush yours unexpectedly,
in the way you rub your eyes when you are tired
and the way you stare at me for so long I get uncomfortable,
saying, "I just like to look at you."
I see you and my love is
always for you, always with you,
a glow of me in all you do because
I am standing on this cliff edge and
it's too late, it's too late
I've given you all of me, and even if it
destroys me
there's no coming back
Everything I do, I do for you.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 1:22 PM UTC
I love you,
But,
you do not know it yet.
tremulously,
I sit by you,
greet you at a party,
push your glass of drink closer to you.
And sometimes my heart asks,
*can i be closer to you?
Can i come over?
and we, us, ourselves, make things new?*
We have been friends for so long.
I do not know,
how or when it started,
but this softening of my limbs,
this pinkening of lips,
this lowering of my dress,
comes more frequently now.
I do not remember,
when the blue green blue of your eyes became beautiful,
or your smile a magnet for my gaze
How when you indulge what I have to say my heart leaps,
dances,
chimes,
Then quietly puts itself away again.
You know me,
but I want you to know me like this.
I want you to know me in odds and ends
and under starlight or in warm sheets.
I want you to know me,
as I have started to know you.
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 4:07 AM UTC
You behold a beast that lives inside your darkened mind,
You hold a creature that preys at darkest nights.
You go to sleep in sight but to sleep you shall never go,
Your raging spirit aches to swallow souls.
You are a killer.
The life you live, shaken, tremulously.
Demented souls you devour meticulously.
The blood you sip from the skulls relentlessly.
Sins of joy, sins of joy.
You are a killer.
The poor children cry, the poor children cry.
You never hear but yet you listen.
You swallow swords; you swallow blades as the sun it shines.
You utter words of encouragement and hide your face from the light.
You are a killer.
You act as brave as the knights of Templar,
And slice your blade in a stranger.
You shape a world of delightfulness and stump on it.
You are a killer, you are a killer.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 7:33 PM UTC
i'll go almost creeping things
and they'll be me
creep creeping rows of tiny
raising bumps(thoselittle
hairs climbing down your
tummy(almost no see 'em
hairs)but they catch softly
light in their trembling bodies
under my breathing breaths
(from the same mouth
tremendously
from that 1 mouth
tremulously)
scoring twixt bunched petals
it creeps a hot gushing pallor
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 5:00 AM UTC
hands shaking, you pack; tremulously, knees drawn in to your chest in in a way that suggests self defense
you are leaving because you can no longer stop yourself from drawing your sword, from cutting into him deeply, blade to bone
you have been here before you know that no one deserves this
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
the night came a lady,
swooning her opalescent skirt
on the vertebrae of the earth!
and the shingles of stars were
crusted on the velvet belly of her
thighs) between
whom
is
the fragrant notch of dawn;
a babe waiting crimson skin
to wail softly in the crevice of
darkness and come immortally
dieing every eve. resurrected
in her womb who did slay him.
anon the coming morn.
but should
i have a say i would say i love her more.
the night. she slanders upon and kisses
my tepid flesh, inviting my eyes to
glaze her still frame. she doth love
me well. and i too do love her. the angles
of her skin. and her cool hair. stretching
or whispered. an arch tremulously. desiring
my fingers.
she is wet. the night. hither little magic. i will love you.
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 11:11 AM UTC
Freedom lives in me.
Its within me, not within my madness.
Its within my capacity to imagine.
It’s in the sun-rays bathing my face,
and my naked, long, always beautyful legs,
-which the nurses how deny to cover them with a green
hospital robe-
in my capacity to take wise decisions; and to love.
In the capacity to free myself,
from all fear;
from all anger.
Freedom it’s been encaged;
wings tied up,
closed eyes,
and been able to fly;
feel blood flow;
the voice run;
fly;
tremulously;
vividly;
running through my skin,
like a kite, of brilliant colors
trapped, inside my body.
Freedom it’s in close my
eyes and
listen the outline of my
lips,
and my kisses, sent to
nobody.
Its feel my thoughts,
stop
my own momentum.
The
freedom is fought against the manifest of madness.
Against
the feeling of be standing without anything under my feet.
Freedom is to fight for listen the silence.
The silence in the center of my thoughts.
In the hummingbirds, and the singing of the birds.
In all of that the freedom is hidden.
And noise that the typewriter of the shrink produces in the hall, dictating diagnose.
Generates the violent ravage of the madness, pounding each pounding.
And the freedom, over all, sleeps in the bed 14th,
where my refugee, my limb, and my salvation.
The one multiplied by itself;
infinite, like the aleph, I have tattooed next to my heart
The number 4,
like the four pillars oracle that defined the Greek destine, included mine.
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
*Upon sight of my LOVE
You, must have skipped a heart-beat
and felt scared or happy?
Oh! LOVE - you must have said
How will I handle it
Is it true?
Or is it just a game?
Is it Death calling me?
I have waited for it everyday
Now it comes in this form
Is this what I dreamt of my LOVE?
And your heart skipped a last-time
What where you thinking
When such thoughts came to your mind?
By the way, LOVE is not the game of mind
Perhaps you wondered
That is the way LOVE always strikes
It does dear...
Without plan, without notice
It comes out like a flower,
under a rain-soaked earth
On morning you get up and
The flower of LOVE is there
In front of you
Perhaps you deplored the culture
That all LOVE means marriage...
Perhaps you cried thinking
What if I hurt and **** this LOVE?
That would be against all my grain of well-being
I am born to a religion that professes LOVE
Perhaps you confounded that
You can survive EVIL and SIN but not TRUE LOVE
Perhaps you yearned tremulously to plead
Yes, I seek LOVE, someone to LOVE me unconditionally
Once in my LIFE - Time
Perhaps you speculated
Whether this LOVE
is Romance or LUST
Without realizing it is
PURE TRUE LOVE!!
Perhaps you remembered faintly
Christ's message you were taught in church
"LOVE one another"
Perhaps you recalled with happiness
This is the prize one pays for seeking LOVE
Perhaps you were joyous -
that at last LOVE came to me
Uncalled, unchartered, uninvited...
Perhaps you felt some solace
That I am the chosen one
NOT all are blessed to be LOVED like this
UNCONDITIONALLY, PASSIONATELY, ETERNALLY
My prayer is but this:
Among all this "PERHAPS"
May you always know
It was GOD &/or FATE &/or NATURE
Whatever you want to call it
That Destined LOVE in your life.*
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
Necro night, obsessive polish...
smooth as a piano's torso.
A man profanes the vested
interests of his body with starry
eyeshot.
Stuffing the pig of non being
with a star's nonlinear light.
The rapid fire vexations of a
king invade him, unspecified
bidding must be carried out.
He sees the world scurry,
sevitude's hand and foot--the
glutted pig of his non being
belches tremulously.
The horror of full emptiness
drives him from star to star, his
subjects multiply to appease
the royal malcontent.
He tears into curses cast at God,
the king blacks out.
The night sits encased in a man's
room, ants of darkness crawl on
him...he lets out a sigh...then begs
sleep.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC
they’ve tried to mechanize, machine tool, the kindness business,
since it seems that being kind is no longer intuitive, au naturel,
but you and I can still scratch off the genes rusted shut that
help the elderly who set out to cross the street knowing full well
20 seconds ain’t enough to make over four lanes with a gait that
don’t move giddy up no more, even with a walker or a cane
the city sidewalks are tremulously arrayed with cracks and rough,
mini sized rises, even small hillocks, that we rushabouts rate noticed
until we have been tripped up in a prior excursion in that same spot
a child once ran out of the park onto the avenue, looking distressed,
in a city that’s overloaded with risk and dangerous one doesn’t want to imagine, wife says “something’s wrong,” sure enough a dawdler,
walking home with her dad, looks up and he is not visible; panicked,
who knew that in an a city of millions, where separation is a hell lot wider than five degrees of separation, that she would know my children, and let me walk her home; the father of course, hunting for her in all the wrong places, I walk her home…the mother, semi-stunned, asks how she could ever thank us, was surprised at my answer…”When your husband returns home to confess his misdeed, having lost his child, just greet him without opprobrium and blame,
for he has already punished himself far worse than you ever could…”
it is in the small things that we acknowledge that we are more alike
than not, and we are knotted in a single strand in ways we cannot
always ken, and sometimes, do not want to acknowledge, for this
temple building business is not without risk, but surely it is a structure built of bricks of loving compassion, and essences of goodness, the small kindnesses in our blood cells, that all of us innately possess...
Apr 9, 2023
Apr 9, 2023 at 3:37 PM UTC
Loud and loud are my thoughts
And I am its prisoner
A rebel to myself
Drowning in waves of somersaulting waters
Surrounded by the salty taste of helplessness
In the abyss of overlapping voices
Booming tremulously
Silencing my willful spirit.
Steering me into a void
But that was before I realized,
I am in control of my thoughts
And only have to say two words
BE GONE!
Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 1:28 PM UTC
A slight ache in my chest
Becomes clearer and stronger
Whenever I see that distant look
Slowly spread in your almond shaped hazel eyes
And those scarlet lips
Shiver tremulously
As if struggling to hold
Those last bits of resilience
Threatening to fade into an abyss of oblivion
At that moment
all I really wish
Is to traverse the distance of your gaze
Climb upon that nameless horizon
Dive into the infinite darkness
That has wrenched your source of happiness
Ruthlessly devoured a prominent piece of you
And return back with a speck of hope
Anything that stirs your anticipation
relinquish your source of misery
Revive your languished faith
Makes you gather your shattered pieces
And wrap you in one of those embrace
That turns you sanguine and buoyant again
Cause no matter what I say
Something inside me fails to believe
That you will ever return
To how you used to be
Before this calamity fractured your resolve
Beyond repair
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 7:15 AM UTC
the sea wrinkles, extends
beneath her moon glow, awaiting
its lustrous return
keening with melancholy ache
of wave soaking midnight sands
unreflective as night's obsidian
hand - snakes along his features
casting a shadowed aura
across his liquid expanse
lulled into silent slumber
while the moon fore-sakes
her nightfall promise
stretched alongside
his ivory form, awakening
breathlessly, tremulously, he
discovers her as moonshine
on outstretched palms, bathing
in her resplendence
was it all summer night's splendor,
(quicksilver to his mind like the moon
beckoning his misbegotten sea)
or had she - at last - returned
to solace his lovesick dream?
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 10:54 AM UTC