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Skaidrum Mar 2016
...

"This is a big dream, it may eat you up."
I do not flinch in the face of chaos.


(Forecasters)
I counted as seven gods
ascended the iodine skyline.
We all call them "misfortune in the flesh."
They waltz in pairs but the very last is a composer;
Seven deities promised the sun would catch scarlet fever.
We danced to the music to summon fate and disorder,
building a coffin in the middle of hungry waters,
The sun is our noble sacrifice in ruby robes;
So lets just hope the sea was starving for fire.

(Brew)
Metal ghosts slip among the sky
and lock like iron gates to form an army of grey.
The weight of sober clouds are intoxicated with turmoil,
Unbalanced weight, scales faltering, "no sudden moves please"
Obsidian giants collect the welkin until it boils over
the edges, the pillars, the cage
Why does the dark taste sweeter?

(Beautiful downfall)
The raindrops are ashamed
of the bitter liars we're all becoming;
We've succumbed to narcolepsy by the hand of water;
within the jaws of hurricanes we were consumed,
teeth formed by the angry fingers of the wind
thunder rejoicing as the land buckles down,
rain feasting on the earth in ecstasy
hail and rain are merciless foes
lightning still swinging,
morbidly screeching
chaotic smile,
a sword,
a single,
a cut.

Yes,
I am the one
(☔)
who fed the sky
my name.
...

I guess my only company that night
was the black umbrella.
It's kindness was it's very own ******,
and I have always known better.

© Copywrite Skaidrum
ryn Oct 2014
It's a dance
It really is
Skip and prance
Lifelong practice

Loop of songs
Never ending
Of various genres
Life is playing

There's the spotlight
World is awaiting
Pressure of eyes
Silently watching

Take your place
Assume your position
Execute with finesse
And flawless precision

Spin your pirouettes
Don't get dizzy
Maintain your poise
In this revelry

Along comes a partner
Present as a duo
The game now altered
From when you were solo

Two bodies now
Move in unison
Reciprocate and reply
Through steps made in heaven

Flighty feet
Intertwined bodies limbre
Sweet little performance
Elapsing into forever

With grace of ballet
Each other you'd catch
Intimate display
Think you've found your match

There'll come such time
Both will not be in sync
Episodes of missteps
Push you to the brink

Alone again
Or switch of partners
Find solace in groups
Still dancing for answers

Dancing with others
Much you can learn
From hip hop to the waltz
Together or in turn

Try to adapt
To different styles
Soak up all you can
May take a while

I've danced all my life
Can't say that I've mastered
Fair share of jeers
And accolades I've garnered

Always clumsy
Exceedingly awkward
Tripping and falling
Barely proceeding forward

It's just this dance
One with syncopated beats
It's just this prance
That my gait can't meet
It's just this stance
I often use as retreat
I realised in a glance
That I have...but

**two left feet
I.

His words
and tongue
are so warm
and He burns
an altar lit
on fire

His body is perfect
pristine
the blood is lurid
and bittersweet
as
juniper
crude

every feature
even the subtlest
tempered to the grace
of nature’s requiem
made with the sole purpose
of temptation
every contour chiseled
with conviction bold

His sepia eyes
in their vintage
prestige
alight
with a childlike elation
no longer present
in the cadaver
of a life i’m trapped in

His rose-tinted lips
held in a kind of
introspective
optimism

bold, sensual, soft
caress but never kiss
i finger his scars
and quietly nurse them

masochism, he wounds
but i want it
regardless of what
it entails

it’s being euthanized
i dare you to **** this
it’s because of
this sordid waltz
of fate and intention
that He’s never around
most of the time

and it’s worth it
it’s ignorance, oh blissful
it’s the pagan’s humble request
i will have this
some of the time?

His fight and fierceness
are unrivaled
inviting
like the solace of sleep
to those freezing

addiction, dependence, provocation
i’m washed in the tide
of His everlasting rimy breath
for a second
he reached out
and thawed me
hands interlaced
Our -------- embraced

i inhale
His body-
the unleavened
bread
doused with
mulled wine
a redolence
of clove, nutmeg, anise
a steady undertone of black currant
and floral, rich sauvignon
the faintest vestige of bergamot
i inhale it all

i run my fingers
through His silken
sable hair

His existence, however,
holds sentiment
incomparable to His heart
there is only Him

He who hears like
the velvet snowflakes
falling

He who lives like
the dark ink
staining

He who smells like
mulled wine
captivating

sometimes
even the quinine
terribly bitter as it may be
yearns for the saccharine
honey
to drown
it
i’ve been going through a lot and this was my way of processing. ty for stopping by.

dedicated to Alison, Lana, Thien, Pooja and Tayden
Ashari Ty Jul 2018

raindrops waltz on the window glass
cold air blew from the inside fast

yellow street lights blur afar
farther, the dark blue twilight stars

but to be farthest from home

soft purr of the revving engine
asphalt wet from tears of heaven

silent music, or at least for me
i chose to listen with the notes empty

i had no choice

twelve-hour ride felt so fun
twelve hours back felt like one

slumber saves my heart and sanity
no dreams, but no reality

and there's no going back

closer, from where i was born
but the road to my soul, stretching horizon

neither alive nor dead nor shy
no joy, but no tears left to cry

'cause no corner of emotions left to pry

and there's no going back

i had no choice

but to be farthest from home.
looking back is realizing the impossibility of going back.
Sam Hawkins Oct 2015
What's your take on walking?

My body serves my soul
and tells me how to go.

My heart, affixed -- aims to show.
These ways I’ve walked in my shoes and stockings.

I've looked to heaven’s stars, to daylit clouds,
when I've stepped out, or dropped my gaze
to track the ground.

Yes, it is true—whoever passed me by
could have taken offense and supposed
I lacked my confidence.

And ofttimes, I've strode out straight and true
as if toward a far mist horizon.

Any un-manifested future,
even peek-a-boo,
can be comprehended? 

I should doubt it.

And if I wished to address an occasional
in-the-dumps, lost-at-sea feeling,

I'd shut my eyes, and walk backwards --
owl-like, 360 swivel my head.

Backwards blind circumspection seemed worth a try --
Who am I? I'd story where I’d been.

In my most spontaneous of nature foot-trafficking,
in roulette walk; my spin of gun chamber click--
ant, spider, beetle, and the occasional sighing snail
must have fled my shadow shoe?

As slow drift clouds in a sky game would play
with the sun to hide—creatures had sought me out,
sung their farewells?  (it was an excellent day to die)

Let me tell it, as it had happened today,
and truth says how.

My feet, they had gotten to waltz-walking.
O how my body and soul
danced a-fancy free.

Love was brimming out of me; happiness
whispered her wordless name; and
my tongue tripped nonsensical.

So if, at last, you've kept up a pace with me
in sympathetic striding, then perhaps
you'd surmise:

there never can be a flat-footed walking me, abiding,
especially when I spout off with poem-talking.

Now, what’s your take on walking?
H E L E N A Dec 2018
A touch of darkness
Gently lifts the veil of dawn.
I smile.

You are not there.

Take on the morning waltz,
Like ghosts ー drifting on;
Cycle of love,

Harrowing raptures.

Your scent, an acute absence
of apples, roses and sunlight,
Fills and intrudes and begs to consume

The remains of my rationality.
Once the apple of my eye --  so harrowing and sweet.
Lizzy Feb 2017
When I first met love
It took me in its arm
And twirled me into a world
Where I could no longer
Be okay with loneliness.
It dropped me in the dust.

I was a foreigner here.
The only reality I knew before
Love left me stranded
Was dark and quiet,
Comfortable and terminal.

I was bound to fade away
And my time was almost up
When Love ripped me
From my grave
And ****** me into
Its strange world.

Here,
I settled into
My tragic fortune.
Waiting for Love
To dance with me again.

Our first dance
Was too furious to survive.
Love tossed me
Like a ragdoll
And spun me so fast
My head nearly
Detached from my body.
Love went for the lift
And dropped me on my face.

The second time
Love took me by the hand
It's gentle swaying
Almost made me forget
About our first disaster.
Softly, Love turned me around.
I turned once,
I turned twice,
Lost in rhythm I closed my eyes.

Now Love turned me again
And when I opened my eyes
Expecting to greet the face
That hypnotized me,
Love was unfamiliar.
Distorted and cruel,
Love changed to Narcissism
And left me in the dust again.

One more time
Love asked me to dance.
And I said,
"Stay away from me.
I won't fall for it again."
So Love shrugged and
Began to waltz without me.

I watched in disbelief
As Love moved
With a new kind of grace
And fluidity.
It didn't need me
To create such beauty.
But with patience,
Love waited for me.

So I stepped in
And Love let me lead.
Love bent with me
And caught me
When I dipped.

It seems
All we needed
Was the right music.
Gela Aug 2018
Sound of the rain,
The wind blowing,
Not lonely,
And nobody's listening.

Heart beats like waltz,
One, two, three,
Don't want to feel it again,
Though soon I will be,

Want to treasure this very moment,
No chaos, no war, not in hell,
Only silence, peace and faith,
Hoping soon, things will be just well.
Sally A Bayan Mar 15
In the garden, a soft-bodied plant thrives,
through sun, wind and rain, it survives,
among  asparagus ferns, it proudly lives,
contrasting its purple triangular leaves
against greens...its lightest of pink blossoms
waltz with the wind, in their fragile freedom,
almost white to blurry eyes
wavering...but, they never hide
raised high above the grass
like ladies proudly poised, with so much class...

a small white butterfly suddenly blends in,
deceivingly perched upon the pinks
but the sound of the camera's clicking
sends it immediately fleeing...
to and fro, the blossoms are swaying
reeling from the wind....wailing
over the sudden flight of their lover
waiting, for a new winged creature
on their purple bodies, to perch, to hover
alas,
....life is short...........never fair...
....and so are some...love affairs....
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sal­ly

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
March 15, 2019
Valeria Ariza Sep 2017
A waltz with broken legs and a wailing heart.
A constant state of fear, of the inevitable darkness this way comes.

Where every thought sings to me “Do it.”
She sounds like me, and I’m afraid.
I’m afraid I’ll do it.

My blood would run a crimson red,
My heart would cry me a river.

Tongue tied ******* looking to escape a body, not mine;
a mind out to **** me.

A living broken record.

Without skipping a beat I'm floating again.
What a high! My, oh my!
The whirlwinds calm,
for a moment.
I come back to life.
I go home.

Only For a moment.

A moment..
You see? darling,
If you wait long enough, dear,
I will have plummeted again, and again; Forever, again.
Wk kortas Nov 2017
Three days, is what the HR rep said, somewhat sheepishly,
As if she was fully aware that boxing up one’s grief
In a span of a few dozen hours
Is a matter of wishful thinking
And certainly she sympathizes
(Indeed, as she speaks,
She spreads her hands in such a way
As you half expect doves to come forth in full flight)
Empathy being their stock in trade,
But the law and the handbook say three days,
And then you need to have your head
******* back on and looking forward.

Eventually, the mail brings fewer envelopes
Marked with embossed flowers
And subdued and tasteful stamps,
The usual flow of solicitous inquiries,
Pre-stamped and pre-sorted,
Inquiring as to your credit needs,
The condition of your windows and siding,
Resumes apace, and more than once,
In fits of inappropriate black humor and frustration,
You scribble, in bold thick strokes of a marker,
The addressee no longer resides at this location*.

You return to nine-to-five,
Though your ghosts keep their own hours,
Stopping by to visit on their own schedule alone,
Prompted by the tiniest of things:
The dog scampering to its feet in a hurry,
As if someone was at the door,
The discovery of a long-unused pitching wedge
Standing expectantly in the back of the closet,
A song from long ago which was beloved
When you lived in the pairing mandated by Noah
Before you entered the shadow world of ones and nones.
Sometimes you give into the giddy madness,
And rise to waltz around the room,
Careening about unsteadily, clumsily
As you have yet to completely master
The difference in weight shift and distribution
That is required of a solo act.
The timing of these visitations
Often disrupts your schedule and sleep patterns,
And you think that perhaps tomorrow you’ll call in.
Jeff Stier Aug 2018
One day bleeds
into the next

Leaves wounds
that won’t heal
measures our moments
into finite statements
that knit the hours
into a tapestry of tedium

Where is the joy
I was promised?
Where
the lively waltz?

I grieve before every hour
and bend before fate’s great weight
tremble incessantly
and starve in the midst of plenty

Yet I hold my head up
march on
determined to reach that far shore
where fate will take us
and luck will leave us.
Xaela San Aug 2018
Listen,
    Think,
         and Speak!
              
Is the steps
           to answer

So don't just
      waltz your lips!
           
It's not a dancer.
Think before you speak...
Allen James Sep 2018
Ask me how I’m doing and I’ll make it sell,
Tell you all is well,
When all is hell,
Falling through the sky,
Ain't hit the ground yet,
Just me and God here playing Russian roulette,
The wage is set,
A bet’s a bet,
Final stages of rage but my mind won’t reset,
Mental vegan, seeking only the raw truth,
I got a residence in present tense,
And the future on mute ,
I could be wrong,
But at least I have the courage to face it,
My word is gold,
Yours is a fake *** bracelet,
Three steps to forgiveness,
But life ain’t a waltz,
It’s a dance with the devil,
And he leads till you’re lost,
You see I paid the cost and got nothing back,
But pages of thoughts and a midnight snack,
They call it "hell and back",
Ah the hell with that,
I’m burning for my sins,
No matter what the habitat,
Fully packed and ready to die,
I’m ditching this life like a runaway bride,
Too young to hide but never too old,
To wreak absolute havoc with the anger I hold ,
I’m as real as pain,
Yet far from a heathen,
Only reason I left heaven,
Was to make peace with my demons,
Problem is they just want to get even,
And now I'm barely breathing,
Barely sleeping at night,
So to answer your question,
No I ain't alright.
Sebastian Macias Nov 2018
Looking around the room
Buttoning your jacket tight
Feeling the frustration in your palms
As you try to write,
Is the same as it is in life,
Clawing at the brick walls
With your delicate fingers
Hoping to find a way out
And you bleed and cry
An aching body is all you own
The room is dancing a waltz
Not much you can do
Then, the air becomes thin
A loud airplane flies over your head
The only thing you can do
Is just walk through it
Hoping it survives on the other end
Your only tool?
Is remembering everything
You have taught yourself up till now
Dark n Beautiful Sep 2018
I am not young anymore, nor grey , nor old, for age is just a number:    when the aches and pains begins to set in and I start to wonder, I never travel with my raincoat  although I hate getting wet, because if you think you can run for cover faster than  when it pours; you aim’s seen nothing yet .  But not so anymore: I never leave my coat and cane when I am on a stool .Oh dear what has happened to me?  
It's like I am getting old.  I still dance to my social tunes and a do a little waltz sometimes,   You ought to see me stepping to some back in time reggae:  after all of that: is when the rubs and oils granny left me comes alive again to soothe my pain of aching joints: Oh dear they say age is just a number and life begins at forty. Begins to go where:
Downhill!
Written by Hartley Forde
Medusa Oct 2018
who has waited for thirty years
i counted him dead, but never could stop

loving the dead man
doing that dead man waltz

so now, my dead man
come find me some way

it's no longer the Seventies
you may find me by a half
broken/half-built wall

if this kind of thing even matters to you
come find me by a broken civilization
I will be the only puppet left in town

When I try to write to you I hear broken Em# ninths
Chords &  Wings and all the smashed things

You have haunted me to the end
End? Nothing is stronger than my need for you
Crawling as I might do in search of the one, the You

I become a lobster, or worse,
I am a Crayfish

For Your Love
Anonymous Nov 2015
It's easy when you're an hour away and it's been a few weeks.
It's easy when you aren't brought up in conversation like you're the sting of coffee on the tip of everyone's tongue.
You no longer linger in my dreams, day or night because you haven't got the time anymore.

But it's not easy when you've decided to spend the night and the walk from my bedroom to the loft where your heavy breathing feels like it's suffocating me and all that will ease the discomfort is laying beside you, is just steps away.
It's not easy when the soft whispers of how much you love me bounce around the room, repeating themselves, and when I ask if you hear it too all you say you can hear is the soft hum of the refrigerator.
It's not easy when you grab me by my hands and waltz with me in the hallway, and when I say I can't dance, you say you can't either.
It's not easy when I thought I was finally doing okay, and you just came right back.

I can't blame you, because I love you.
And it's one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
Uka Nov 2017
I can stick a gun in my mouth and it will jam. I can cut myself and miss. If I set myself on fire; it will rain to put me out. I can work up an appetite and not eat. If I stick my face to the wind; I won’t burn my skin. The world spins and I stay still. I can hear bombs from miles and crush rocks to sand. Give life to what is dead. I can move a hill to mountains’ domain and they won’t argue. I can throw the world into chaos and be praised. When I sit long enough; it is art. A mind can be set for this outcome. A person can image great future and greed. We have this power to march for one. We have this power to march for all. An unmovable object walks into a room. Does the room move with it? Or does it still stay? An unstoppable object steps on dry land. Does it crack? Or does it stay together? We are not malleable for a reason. But we can be broken with such few spaces. Such small and uneasy movements from across the world. It can be miles; but next to us. It’s impossible to march if no one knows how to dance. To waltz into trouble is easier than a solution’s dream. It is elegant and depressing as the same. We can compare scars but stay clothed and masked for others. We sometimes don’t miss when we cut. Sometimes the gun goes off. When a fire burns; it won’t be put out quick enough. This is real. This is life. But words mean more. Word mean more than actions because words are forever. A page can be lost and found. Paper can be cut and burned. But it’s still there in the mind of the writer. It’s still there in the mind of the poet. We as humans have the ability to move the hills. Move the world. But we care to not join. We, as many others, keep straight. We fall into the lines given ease. Giving the ease a way into the mindset of strength. Too much hate. Too much greed. Too much misunderstood points and confusion. We want to identify as something else to make us special. We want to be different than the person better than us. We worry about who said this and what they had done today. We look at horrifying things all day and change a picture to match it. We are numb. We are ignorant. We are invincible. And that’s sad.
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