"uncoils" poems
Strange strings of thought.
Thoughts of loyalty and love,
thoughts of friendship and of ambition
and my condition;
thoughts of submission of subtraction and addition.
Unravel the secret of the continent,
oh how you are persistent.
The road uncoils and I uncoil down the pavement.
Off i go.
Twisted days of golden glow.
Off I go, into the black hole
of the road.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
flesh is nothing but a plastic cover
and if you s t r e t c h it far enough
the seams begin to rip, hovering
a guideline instead of a fence
a tongue is nothing but a stretchy strawberry
and if you cut it clean in half
the seeds disperse, swearing
to rearrange the words into normal speech
the brain is nothing but playdough
and if you let it mold
the pink uncoils, forgetting Plato
remembering nothing
the smile is nothing but a bunch of ugly mirrors
and if you rip them out by the roots
the spotlights reverse, it only gets worse
and you stare at your self-destruction for eternity.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
She didn't care much
about the ruined stuffing
of the dead animal
Just the music box
exposed at its heart
like a cypher
of brass-colored keys
plinking away at itself
--a player piano* in someone's basement
to impress, entertain
less affluent
cocktail friends
Never took much
to sweep her away--
like the insides
of a music
box
resisting
curious fingers
to speed it up
or slow it down
learning how
to force
its secret
into her hand
Marveled when it skipped
at the broken pins
a minute glitch
finds holes in tune
as roll uncoils
to spring the ditty
“This girl has mechanic's ability”
Forcing mechanisms
noticing holes that catch at music
slowing
slowing to sadden the song
Winding it up to hear
again--
happy
Tears when it stopped
--the question
of why?
of its own accord
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
*r EVOL ution
uncoils slowly by the fire
pondering of profound-flickering in the reverse-sparks
within the pupils of shifting-light*
1.
love(r) dips deep within a hardy fire-maker from another sky
body recycled and soul carried on
mind unlike any other
it’s simply a matter of Time.. holding that rusty-key of long ago
entrusted to a cavorite-place behind silent-wells whose treadle-functions heaven forgot
2.
yet what counts highest sits on a ledge of paradox
as happiness falls short upon the threshold of fornever and never after
there are tumult-fears to overcome
and it needs time, once again
as hearty does beseech temporal-cogs to ensure one full revolution
thanks are not enough for things that words fail to express
no specific thing to pin-point
of the immense power the discharged-missile holds
who is ever the same person in the marching of months?
3.
exponential growth is combustion understated and surreal-excitement catches
to find traction in the whistling wind.. only a quarter-whisper away
it has instead.. been phenomenally unreal
.. can't explain it
.. won't deny it
4.
the full idea has near-outgrown its twin-seal flanks
that choices came shaking.. aghast and
dripping its magenta-fury in heavy-drips upon the sand
half-spilling lava-filled cups of ire
near the camp-side
grabbed it by the lapels
shaking – I love you so
now, why can’t you say it?
why won’t you declare it?
what holds your yellow-ass back so?
5.
there's a power-burst in the trajectory-whirligig here..
can’t be stopped, won’t be stopped
burnt offering rises up in a scathing-hiss
and exudes such a sweet-cleansing
of
semi-cinnamon and subtle ginger
*and.. love is but a word whose letters
lie
in the sand*
S T – 11 nov 2013
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
Your sweet fragrance uncoils around me
like a hooded cobra,
jolting my senses
& it reminds me of your own.
Yours blew me away,
& I am lost in the smell
of your delicious musk,
titillating my taste buds,
I'm still thirsting.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 5:22 AM UTC
Short struggle to the floor, I sigh,
your wrenched fingers clamped
tightly around my pointed wrists
Your convex caps join thigh to shin
pressing mine through scorched earth
slowing seconds grab my breath
pushing further out, and drawing ever in.
Spasmodic jolts, kicks and flinches;
failed punches, rattled writhing, wriggling
under your smirking calm, this is
second nature. Third wind I strike again
with snake like prowess, your dead weight flipped
but inches. Obey or suffer, your knee rolls,
to my chest; laser precision, your other uncoils
on the blackened dirt, ash and soil.
Flat footed battering ram to my ribs
then throat, ever slower, ever heavier.
The pain goes, the knife enters:
over and over and under flesh
ripping, torn skin.
I pity not the wondering victim who trips
on my carcass. Face first, horrified glance
towards the sign that reads:
Beware trespassers, out here
nobody hears your screams.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
Many are asleep. Many are awake. Some lie betwixt, straddling the waking and dreaming worlds.
Yet all is one. And all will always be one.
The myriad of tendrils extending from the superorganism of Gaia throb as one single heartbeat. This is the ancient way. A tide of lifedeath, receding and reseeding. One recent manifestation of the infinite and her ever-fecund complex of awe and beauty are a small band of lunar vamps gone rogue, renouncing the Order of Crimson Red for Opal White, death's blood for life's milk. Gaia, mother to all living things, has tended greatly to this particular green strand of hers; She wills it forth and it obediently flourishes in response, despite the race of humans and blood vamps and their respective patriarchal death cults of never ending consumption.
Something is afoot. Wheel of time grinds to a halt. The Atman is -now- nudging man and his greed. New epoch emerges. Third eyes wide shut begin to narrow open. Beauty will again retake it's rightful place over the usurper, truth, putting it under her foot. Transformation beckons Earth, parting lips sealed, opening her up, seeding her anew till sleeping snake at sacrum bottom uncoils and slides up, up to be lit, enlightened, ecstatic, rolling milky eyes to the back of the head.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC
One child, two child, three child, four
Who could that be, knocking at my door?
Smoke creeping through the crack
Thick like a fog, can't find my way back.
The poison weaves its way around me
Crawling up like five leaf ivy.
***** putrid, filthy, mean
Love how it's glowing that hypnotic green.
Their eyes are red, I know they're hooked
Can't get enough of how it looks.
Love how they smile, love how they sing
Love how their actions make my heart sting.
Dancing around me, grinning like ********
Trying to coax me with their laughter.
I refuse! I refuse! I refuse to ****
Why don't you see you're making me choke!
Keep on whispering in my ear
Keep on ignoring that one small tear.
I swear I won't listen, I'm not going to follow
I see your face and it's hard to swallow...
You finally give up and the smoke uncoils
All of you leave; to the victor go the spoils.
May 17, 2010
May 17, 2010 at 5:25 PM UTC
The incessant calm
the roaring silence.
A mystic bell tolls its portent,
and the world uncoils like a spring
and collapses like thunder on a summer day
The shock of cold strikes my muscles,
defibrillating my comatose brain into a primal state
as I feel the water suspend me, if only for a moment
The rushing adrenaline breaks its mental dam and seizes control
My legs a motor in the tides,
my body an arrow from Apollo's bow arcing towards the crystalline surface
I break the barrier into air, it shatters like glass.
And then, I fight, clawing like a crazed animal.
The primal struggle to survive, to battle my existence
to take on the entire world...
collides with my thinking mind at once, as I shrug off the weight of breathlessness
The primal and the intelligent forcing me forward
threatening to rend my body in two!
My world inverts, and does a tipsy dance
The struggle between our dreams and our reality
Our fight and how tired we truly are
Hits me with a wall of realization
I fight on, my fury a mad race to break myself
to surpass the limits I set for myself
and truly see the world
The moment hits, a single tap on the wall an explosion that sends my body reeling
and my mind blinks and returns to its natural state
I breathe new air and clear my head,
yet search as if trying to remember the dream I just awoke from
And the world is a clutter
And the roars are silent
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 3:00 AM UTC
when you're not the only
one he runs to
any more and shares his affection with
something wild unlocks
hungry for the accustomed hug or kiss
it gnaws on you from the inside
burning along with ***** nails
insistent, pushing you to demand
his attention again
and again
when you're not the only
one he wants to ****
this uncoils a new demon
with a wilder, madder agenda
practically salivating for a brutal
sacrifice
more your sanity than flesh
it pinches your cheeks
rubs your face in it
slaps you across the ***
in a tender reminder
you will never be enough
when you are not the only
when you are not the only
you should run
Dec 8, 2010
Dec 8, 2010 at 9:14 PM UTC
I wait each night for a self.
I say the mist, I say the strange
tumble of leaves, I say a motor
in the distance, but I mean
a self and a self and a self.
A small cold wind
coils and uncoils in the corner
of every room. A vagrant.
In the dream
I gather my life in bundles
and stand at the edge of a field
of snow. It is a field I know
but have never seen. It is
nowhere and always new:
What about the lives
I might have lived?
And who? And who
will be accountable
for this regret I see
no way to avoid? A core,
or a husk, I need to learn
not how to speak, but from where.
Do you understand? I say
name, but I mean a counduit
from me to me, I mean a net,
I mean an awning of stars.
by Charif Shanahan
Jul 8, 2022
Jul 8, 2022 at 12:54 PM UTC
My fear dwells in the darkest abyss I've come to know.
The grand trench,
to most is known as my works basement.
From the door beyond:
perpetual darkness blinds travelers whom dare roam in it's path.
The weak fend off the presumed Krueger like critters that scurry as you flail blindly for your weapon;
The clique light bulb hanging from a rusted chain.
These cold winter nights my friends,
I fend alone.
In the battle known as:
the night shift.
I fear to scribe you I must fight the presumed creatures of the cave alone for-
I've run out of froyo lids.
This epics protagonist however fears not:
Standing a a sky scraping 5"3 draped in the finest tye dye and yoga pants that can protect me from the harshest of demonry
(Except our bleach- which is apparently made out of acid from a comic book)
Of course I'm not scared...
It's not like you can't see your own nose in the decay that room brings.
As all great ventures go I put one foot in front of the other
down the spiral case that consumes your soul,
with every step with the cold harsh evil that is presumed to dwell in the unseen.
But...
There's no abyss...
Even worse?
Light?
**** there are actual things in here*
Not from the bulb I've known but of the parts restricted.
"...FUUCK"
the light crashes
Wincing as it crawls to my feet
I squeak a small "hello..."
And the dweller of the cove advances with a Cheshire grin.
"Who are You?"
He puffs keeping the imaginary lines distance.
"Me? I'm the nights tender -how did YOU get back here?"
His roughness melts to a soft cheer as he's mouth uncoils laughing
" I own the building"
Tagging along in the light
I feel my cheeks grow warm
"Haha, oh well Hey nice to meet you"
Extending the torch to the dark
Timidly grabbing back,
across boundary lines.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 8:10 PM UTC
root
about
you feels
how warm the
earth in)just spring
and root
deeply how
(in tightness
uncoils your love fist
totally
lilies lipped in dew
and coming morning's
health
when (root) you
singly divulge
one mute word of slender making light
and all that's quiet lives suddenly
in heaped burning
to lustfully cry:
SPR!NG
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 7:30 PM UTC
Fear gripped primal synapse,
a quiver of spider’s silk bunching,
rippling outwards in a cranial pond.
Anticipation surrenders shape
to the dense jungle rhythms,
but reveals little of their depths.
Breathing stifles in cautious
and irregular release -
amidst the midnight black box.
—
The bone sharp tension uncoils,
as vine and fibre come undone.
The cycle remains unbroken.
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 12:22 PM UTC
His weapon is raised
pointing forward
still relaxed though
ready to attack even
while in retreat
His legs are coiled
bent at the knees
and keep him en garde
while his free hand
dangles freely
to maintain some
fleeting balance
Yet when he hears
"Allez!"
he sees no foe
and feels no threat
this time there is
only his own path
So he removes his mask
and looks ahead
then drops his weapon
uncoils and
begins
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
somewhere a boy(at last)in who darkness
uncoils
unfolds drips
down each bone
down each finger
to each tip
tingling
crackles
the teeming
camber
of a girl's
waist feels
like sweat
tastes like tears
wetness and molasses
smeared mascara torn
tights around brief ankles
a skirt lifted and immaculate heaving cries
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 4:58 PM UTC
A snake uncoils along the centuries;
Your name slinking back to Israel.
Whispers left on the pillow
That will unfurl when the
Brownish dawn comes.
I watch the way
The snake lies.
Aware, asleep, a waking dream, waiting
For a scent on the wind.
Your skin is warming next to mine,
Thawing the crystals from your scales.
On the mattress, turning
Through white, livid joy
And coiling your tail around my arm.
Press your bite against my neck.
I will test the sharpness of your teeth.
***** my tongue.
Toxins never tasted so sweet.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
he rakes me
sharply, softly,
with big, sturdy hands
watching the red spread
all the way down
the sudden intensity
sets my sleepy skin ablaze
and my consciousness uncoils
in the haven of his arms...
good morning, love.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
The Winter Sun
Uncoils
Over the world
Reaching little light tentacles
Into hidden crevices,
Smoothed over the cracking bark of pine and cedar,
Kissing awake arbutus and hawthorn,
Leaving a trail that rises just as steam from hot coffee does,
A residual warmth like the palm of grandfather,
“Good morning” he softly says as he gently pats my back,
And I feel the tenderness of this love in my heart.
“Good morning” I say in a whisper
As the sun takes my breath away,
As I breathe this breath with the sun,
A breath
for the whole waking world
fills my lungs.
The Sun,
with the same curiosity as a child,
Peers into the damp forest floor,
peeking under salal bushes and fallen fir boughs,
and Springs awake
Winter’s blanket.
Perhaps I am wild to say
I wish I could remember this
moment forever,
And moments like these
Which tear me apart and bring
me back together
All at once,
Moments where I am awestruck
By the glorious beauty of this dance.
So I am wild
and bathed
In the gleaming light,
As golden dewdrops sparkle
like stars around me,
As vapour shadows rise,
and green moss beckons to be
touched by the
tendrils of sunlight.
So I surrender
Into the arms of perfect harmony,
the love of a singing forest,
as if it's the only thing
I know how to do.
And it’s as if,
for a fleeting moment,
The sun truly touches
this Earth home,
while we in turn
Stretch towards the sun,
And for just one sweet breath
we share our hearts,
Together as one.
Jun 16, 2023
Jun 16, 2023 at 5:28 PM UTC
Steel fog of messages,
televisions, white noise mists.
Metal industrial heater
burning brown coal.
Ridges of cold air snap,
press stories headlines leap.
Bush skyline winter burn,
kept in patrolled lines.
Clouds of wisps trailing,
phrases forward, reblogged.
Cars exhaust glows red,
as circle back roads.
Poetry uncoils sparks,
petrichor, instant before rain.
Fireflies dance circling,
embers bore space.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 1:16 AM UTC
When I saw you, laying in the dead grass, my eyes glued themselves to the yellow of your hoodie, to the flower patches that adorned the back of your denim jacket, to the long strands of deep brown hair that escaped and tangled around your hidden face.
I hardly remembered that your eyes were more blue than grey, and that your nose was the prettiest part of your face.
Your voice hadn't touched my ears in a year and a half and I'm not sure what I was expecting when I looked down at your dozing face, and saw the same boy that I kissed nearly two years ago in that dim basement.
When you looked up at me from your nest in the grass, I forgot that I hated you for the better part of last year, I forgot that you pried my fingers from your heart and flung me away from you, I forgot that I had learned to unlove you.
What's funny about love is that it sticks in the ridges of your fingerprints and sews itself into your eyelashes, seeps from your pores like sweat.
It makes a home in the recesses of your lungs and the minute it's reminded that it tangled with someone else's love, it uncoils and reaches through your throat, out into the open air and towards that boy that broke it so long ago.
When we said goodbye, I said goodbye with friendliness, with a smile, a wave, a turn of the shoulder.
You said goodbye with nostalgia embedded in it, with a smile, an openness that made me flinch, with a hug that made my arms want more and more and more.
You are a familiar stranger to me, someone that my heart knows but my mind has forgotten.
When I hugged you, there was an uncomfortable adoration between us that has never escaped from our mouths to begin with.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 10:12 PM UTC
I Posed For Matisse
He uncoils me like a skein of yarn
Paying out behind beach glass lenses
Scouring the remains of the day
For watery sifted light
His hand spry as a piper through
Twisted Hamelin streets
Spavined fingers confounded by buttons
Quick and nimble once again
Fat bolt of graphite swanning
Around an empty dance floor
To strains of a silent waltz
While my skin pools in goose flesh
Bobbin spun free, hip, ******* neck
Described in a dearth of line
God struck mute as I slip
Demurely behind the screen.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
How much is your soul worth to you? Because you gorge on the fruit of your soul every day , tell me have you ever tried sewing before reaping? You’ll notice the holes you dig are not to bury yourself but to grow you. You realize the pain of loneliness in the dark soil and the cracking of your shell is what births you, and with every leaf that uncoils is your past and present meeting the sun. Realize the flowers you bloom are yours. So before you crack the ground of your soul and over draw the account on your life for something... remember what you did to bloom that flower.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 12:19 AM UTC