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Mark Upright Aug 2018
|“lead into gold, good into dear, mortal into immortal”
(where poems come from)”
|


you charged me
with crimes three times three,
sorcery and witchcraft and doing god’s work

plead guilty three times three
not that I was successful,
but a complex, candied marvelous failure

not in my possession, the sorcerers spell,
my dross and wordy dregs all sit sidelined,
perchance perhaps,
if you search with a leaden patience inhuman,
you might just find a minuscule golden vein there’d unmined

turning good into dear, an “anyone can do it” miracle,
when you whisper with just one kiss those forever words,
don’t be afraid, say it low and slow, I love you,
and
“I only want to be with you”
and dare it to be become dear

mortal into immortal, an order tall, for one knows his
hiding places for all too human pockmarked weak,
but having been charged and found in guilt,
no one proffered evidence but they wanted a unambiguous
unanimous verdict and proof is such an old fashioned truth notion

happy accept your accusations and since confession is
the best soul medicine, with glee, here and now reveal
how immortality is achievable


breathe poems  constantly instantly throughout
the orifices in the skin cells and
pore’d orifices you were god given;
it is how we immortals communicate
with what cannot be seen,
yet drunken heard when spoke aloud

taste the poems in and on tongues you can’t comprehend,
the sounds fly skyward after infiltrating your eyes,
then you can see your own immortality anointed rising

all nonsense you plead,
indeed,
only immortals truly cherish and envy the
human ability to create
nonsense, the place
where poems come from

*******
Tallulah Feb 2013
Simple, right angles
Neat, no tangles
Safe, inside
Listen, law abide

Outside, undefined
Chaotic, unmined
Dangers, wide agape
Wild, the escape
ahmo Apr 2017
this sultry tease of summer,
skin peeling off of leather and cracked heels on the dashboard,
blisters on feet panicking like geysers,
this oxygen resembling cinder-blocks
slightly more carefree -

imprints of crinkled toes never left the passenger seat.
the bags in your eyes were unmined emeralds-
my bones shared strict resemblance to anvils,
and I was too ******* high to inject these sullen thrills.

the new car smell never comes back.

my stomach is no longer a carnival at the sight of freshly opened eyelids, only a dimly-lit, mold-infested dungeon.

may I begin the Spring cleaning by sweeping your eyelashes off of the leather?
or shall I leave your grace,
along dried crumbs off screaming green dopamine,
in the creases?

always,
always,
always
passionate visions of my chest smashing through the windshield like a steel-framed freight train,
fueled by every damning item on this laundry list of self-inadequacy.

salvage yards cannot simply exist as ubiquitous rows of lost souls
------
there must be hope for the hot season to melt away the rose-tinted skidmarks burning my irises.
Matt Revans Dec 2015
She has long gone, my lady of light!
And left me alone sitting here;
Murmured sweet nothings, slipped into the night,
I thought I’d had nothing to fear.

Her memory burns so bright in my heart,
Like torchlight in the darkest abyss,
Causing shadows that shimmer, and shiver and dart,
As they do with the sun’s setting kiss.

Her memory waltzes in the halls of my mind,
As light penetrates from above:
The dance that we shared wends its way, and does wind,
A slow fading, bull fight of love.

Oh beautiful memories, locked deep within,
But as high as the skies that ascend!
Within me your spirit will eternally spin  
For my heart you will never transcend.

Dear, beauteous vision! The jewel in my heart,
Glittering in your unmined, purest form;
What mysteries you still whisper, and faintly impart,
The calm in the eye of my storm!

Like the calm of a rookery at midday, which you’ll know
Is long after the flock has first flown;
And where sing those birds, and forage they now?
That to me does remain quite unknown.

And yet back you return, in some beautiful dreams
Singing songs like a caged bird set free:
If I kept you, you’d fall apart at your seams
For I’d hold you so tightly to me.

If a flame was ever hidden, deep in a grave,
It would never burn bright, or burn strong;
To encase you, and hold you, eternally save
Would **** you, you would not shine long.

Oh beautiful Universe, you created us all
To dance high, and dance strong, and dance free!
Liberate our hearts from this world, as you call
Us all back to one true liberty.

Matt Revans
09/12/2015
©Copyright
Caroline Shank Sep 2021
Everything reminds me of that short
summer.  The clouds form in ancient swirls of fine candy.  Stick candy.
The Wisconsin breath on my
neglected face still summons the
memory.

Proust has already penned his memoir.

I have as yet been unmined.
You remain like an effigy
on the razor edge of sanity.

I feel the hot hand of our past
rub along the night we
loved and smoked and
loved some more.

The days we were loosed on
the city we held the yellow
breath of anticipation.  

We walked

into night when the dark
fallen Angel laid her hand
on times cruel cudgel
and struck us apart.

The music I hear is the
remaining notes of a still dark
lift of dance.

The touch of you is a reply
in only every breeze.

Caroline Shank
Andrew Watson Jan 2020
I breathe dust and think fire
my mind sizzles with spirit
I write with my left hand and see with both eyes
but that doesn’t matter.

thoughts without thought
diffuse like poisonous gas
from the mouth of the man
his audience inhale malefic fumes

“Homosexuality is against the will of mother nature” he hisses
yet she is nowhere to be seen.
when rain falls to the concrete
I know
she cries like the rest of us

I am trapped in his freedom
his right to speak as he likes
takes away my right
to exist.
Only silence remains.

I will not be reduced
to a title
a statistic
a fixture of mindless rhetoric

yet his words continue
screeching darkness in my ears
he doesn’t know love
but he’ll do all that he can
to strip it from others

when his daughter sobs into her pillow
and drips her scarlet shame on the white bathroom tiles -
He’ll learn.
until then his forked tongue will flick venom in the air
the narrow tunnel of his mind unmined

I long for the day
people think before they say:
I am not
homophobic
but
Dasonofgod Jun 2022
He may be shameless ogre
Full of scars and dirts
Adores his body with rags
Swarm around him are flies
Whao! Look beyond his body
Deep in him seated
Mass of unmined treasures

Beyond his stinking whare,
Wisdom laden tablet
Dig deep into his heart
Search his soul
Tap out the best
The best for the world

Soar above ordinary
Hunt out the extra ordinary
Turn the world around
Everyman is  bundled brim
Bundles of unreachable wisdom
Search harder for the honey within
Look beyond the body!
Analogous to black box
holding untold secrets,
I share the following self
introspection with ye,
which purported hidden truths
might set me free,
albeit laborious effort

to loose constituent amalgamated
compound elements unmined
tantamount to agony
riddling psyche effort to extract
thorny matters incumbent upon me
versus tapping Androcles and the lion
think Roman mythology.

Oftimes methinks... whoami
spending scores of years
with frustrated sigh
hermetically sealing body electric
housing generic garden variety guy
severely emotionally tormented
contemplating, integrating,
blithely urging wish to die

even at this moment,
yet reluctantly shy
away to embrace death wholeheartedly,
nor would I try
putting anonymous life (mine)
on the line, though...
nonetheless envisioning rejoicing
(as told to significant other -

the missus naturally averse
to my demise well nigh)
without ability to explain why
per se if mortal ailment
truncated mein kampf
Noel cowardly lie,
cuz becoming gratefully dead try
not to laugh while

yours truly cannot deny
permanent absence twill recognize
hard skool of knocks alumni
posthumously make his name linked with
hallowed as if that martyred,
though the feted occasion
beholds mine scattered
cremated ashes carried,

loosed, whisked... to sky
will not require men to don black tie,
nor mourn angst peppered soul,
no longer will any banshee cry
all quiet on western front forever reunify
me with cosmic consciousness eternal ally.
Analogous to black box
holding untold secrets,
(after deadly plane crash
no survivors except
a journeyman foreigner),
I share the following self
introspection with ye dear readers,
which purported hidden truths
might set me free and clear,
albeit laborious effort

to loose constituent amalgamated
compound elements unmined
tantamount to agony
riddling psyche effort to extract
thorny matters incumbent upon me
analogously synonymous with
Androcles and the lion
think Roman mythology
whoops (Greek: Ἀνδροκλῆς,
alternatively spelled Androclus in Latin).

Oftimes methinks... whoami
spending scores of years
with frustrated sigh
hermetically sealing - waxed body electric
housing generic garden variety guy
as prepubescent severely, physically,
mentally emotionally tormented
contemplating, foregoing existence,
integrating, blithely urging wish to die
even at this moment,

still doth not reluctantly shy
away to embrace death wholeheartedly
simultaneously, naturally nor would I try
putting anonymous life (mine)
on the line, though...,
nevertheless envisioning rejoicing
(as told to significant other -
the missus naturally averse
to my demise well nigh)
without ability to explain why

per se if mortal ailment
truncated corporeal constituent
collective comprising mein kampf
Noel cowardly lie,
cuz becoming gratefully dead try
not to laugh while
yours truly cannot deny
permanent absence mine decoupling
from humanity, no longer linkedin
with consciousness, I recognize

hard skool of knocks alumni
soul finally free to roam spiritual realm
posthumously making his name sake
(synonymous with introvertedness)
deceased modest mortal hallowed human,
though the foregone feted occasion
beholds mine future
no longer entwined with the missus,
whence cessation as breathing being
decades into the future

whereby mine cremated ashes  
subsequently scattered across
reconstituted secluded terrain
once expanse of one hundred acre woodland
populated with poo poo ticky tacky,
about a half century ago
partitioned into cookie cutter
vinyl city occupying happy hunting grounds
witnessing abundant flora and fauna,
where Glen Elm estate

(an expansive demesne
formerly occupied by the Leipers) razed;
within corner abode
(at crossroads of Stoughton and Level Roads)
wherein dwelled Williams family
(offspring grown and senior citizens,  
the eldest daughter
happily residing in Carhibeg,
Rosscarberry county Cork Ireland)
to me, a garden variety generic guy
forsaken atrophied opportunity

loosed, whisked, and zapped...
toward sheltering sky
linkedin love never did transpire,
hence moot point absent wedding bells
did not require men to don black tie,
only selfish sexagenarian
mourns angst peppered soul,
whence death do me part
banshee will signify
all quiet on western front forever reunify
me with cosmic consciousness eternal ally.
wichitarick Nov 2020
Phoenix Rising

Were those memories hidden will the dawn say they're forbidden,

Passive glow starts to tremble, in short order her warmth will win

Distance quickly comes forward will she reveal a new reward, sunbeams so fine possibly uncovering something divine

What will her brilliance display, hidden demons or new zeal? still lost or ready to begin

Light washes off my mask impossible for me, for her an easy task, will a glow uncover something kind

Her gleams in streams through waving leaves, awaiting to bring out your strongest song, improving good vibes on a level of ten

Dawn to dusk for most a must, Circadian rhythm shifting, sense of time frozen in my mind

Lost in an electrical storm is my norm,  unwound body clock numbers out of stock, blue sky to help my mind and body align again

Do we ask for this to happen, maybe mother nature's way of realigning our play, is she the great provider or our questions being denied

Mind limits are limitless, visions left open cure the strongest wanderlust, Light removes fright bringing new delight, each beam contains a hidden gem

Was a piece of my soul left in the dark ,are new rays exposing another role? Await daily discoveries with all the gold hearts unmined R.C.
While it started as thoughts on my own going to bed as many others are waking up,like many of my original prose it evolved from conflicts with my body and mind for neuro reasons,not always on the same path,but remain blessed because life had already showed me to be humble and accept life on lifes terms:) "Peace Takes Practice" I appreciate your thoughts. Rick

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