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Sombro Jan 2017
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Life is about freedom from death
All kinds of death
20
Sombro May 2019
20
If we all died before we fell old
Consumed as we blush ripe
What would perish with us
But mold and setting mud?

Life could not be long
Nor sophisticated, for
All that thought never born beyond
The days of cocked feathers.

Our homes the wild trees
Burned or spared by our caprice
Sleep on the moss a groan
Summer in the morning the dawn

Tousled hair a-spring with salt
And the hoary sweat of the night
Eyes sharp and deep
Like pools in frothing rivers unsettled.

Muscles taught in conflict not against the world
But green competition, passion the reward
And pleasure, in sinew pushing, grabbing,
Taking what is Mine.

Our faces our identities
Our bodies our manifestos
Statements simple, ideas cut
To have sharp edges and grate at one another.

Night full of the juicy roars
Of fiery eyes consuming lovers claimed
In battle, ****** conflict
That mean nothing to time, nor for it.

Her smile a sugar suggestion
her ******* her belly her hipsherlips
Her lover at my feet.
Unembarrassed, unrelenting, undefined stones in his dead eyes.

And when lines would start to settle
And sense harden
When certainty dies like an old dog
There is no long goodbye, no sagacity gained

You cry to your last, terrified as you pass
Lost in pure droplets shed from a face
As its teeth grow too far while the mane retreats,
And the soul is killed for it.

Cruel, to let a who live past that
To watch who's spirit
Wash away and see the tide return
Gushing wine in your arms
That's gone dull and bitter from the Autumn left
Too long, too long,
Lived too long.
A poem about what it would be like if we never lived past our teenage years
Sombro Jun 2017
I just learnt something
And narrowed my world
Pulling corners of the table
Closer to me

I just learnt something
And my friend did not
So when he speaks, when she comments
On waste on her tongue, elastic in his breath
Wrongs don't decompose and I don't forget the smell
Error, errors in their legend
And a narrower world with less space to breathe

I learnt something today
And burnt one wick of wonder,
And now all I have
Is a certainty
Ahead of an error
As concrete ink
On a page lies ponderous
And I feel my way fall lower
I learnt something
Sombro Nov 2015
Come ye, all who broke,
All those whose light
Poured out like a yoke
To be born one more bright

Come ye, all who knew
That one day they'd be
Better than those few
Who never cried for 'me'

Come ye, all ye teary
Who never thought they'd find
Them back at home so weary,
For they thought they'd lost their mind.

Come ye, all ye triumphant,
Who beat back the claws of the beast,
Come ye, all ye poets
You deserve this much, at least.
A call for all those poets who have been lost and found themselves. Peace is your heaven now.
Sombro Mar 2016
Shoulds
Have horns
And ram reindeer with
Thistle bush antlers

I grow
From the seeds of others
Leaf green
As lilac winter tells me.

And the advice of others
Protects
Culpability from
The mouth of a sweet whisper.

Shoulds
Grow fangs
And live in dark forests
I know this to be their opinion.

I live
Longer longings
I rise
With every new day

And they, are still there
Dressed in soft leather,
Stirring teas and
Ready to tell me paths ahead

Predicting the worst weather
Without knowing the storm
They condone.
Advice.
Advice and friends
Sombro Jan 2018
A friend is watching me
I showed him my life last night
I made mistakes and he knows it
I may have done things he knows now

A friend can see me
And now I know what that's like
I know what others feel like
When they know all they do is being watched

A friend knows about me
And I can't decide if that's good or bad,
Whether writing this is another rope at the willow
Pulling its supple roots from the ground

A friend has found me
Dug me up from the ground
An ugly root, but one that makes
A flower bloom quite highly

A friend has shown me the sun
Something I forgot was there
I don't know if he stands me
I wouldn't like him to say

A friend has made me see myself
What a strange thing
What a strange worry
To forget your reflection

A friend has left me in my own hands
A complete little picture
Oil paint, that's the worth I know
That's the way my mind thinks these things

A friend has left me to think
What a valuable little thing
Like gold that's something stronger
Than brittle iron, fragile big steel

A friend has seen me
And now I have to live with that
Strange tides wash my feet
Coral rocks wink at me from the shore

People tell me what I am now
And I suppose that helps me think
Friends have found me on the beach
Putting out the sun again.
Hello
Sombro Jan 2015
I like to think
Of our effect on flats
Of the change we make
On buildings of cold brick and steel

I look at houses, strange to me
And see the dead glass in the windows
I like to think
That to someone it is home.

It's a testament to humanity
That we can make buildings mean something
I like to think
Of how we give our world a story.

We give concrete and wood
The memories of a family meal
Of nights before a fire
Of a first kiss.

We are as important to what we see
As what we see is to us
We are the wind through the forest
The cricket in the starry night.

Don't believe me?
Look at an abandoned house.
There's nothing quite so tragic
As a doorstep never used,

Without a memory to bring it to life.
We give places meaning.
Sombro Dec 2014
Imagine a world.

Imagine a world,
Where we were taught to know each other.

Imagine a world
Where we did not work for money,
Only for the food and the home we hold dear.

Imagine a world
Where the all that we had,
Were gifts from those who love you,
Or from the State who loves you as much.

Imagine a world,
Where we can know that,
Our money goes to help
Those who need money to work.
For other people.

Imagine a world,
Where the news told us every day,
About the one who did the most
For others that week,
For others that year,
For others in their life.

Imagine a world,
Where a smile is payment,
A hug is a coat,
A laugh is a lesson,
A song is a blessing
A call is a welcome
And a painting is always you.

I imagine a world,
Where I can write poetry for you,
Whoever you are,
And every sound
And every couplet
Will rhyme with love,
No value in each other,
But what we can give.
Aimocracy - my attempt at merging the french words 'Aimer' (love) and cratic (government). I am just full of Christmas spirit today.
Sombro Nov 2015
She sat down
I put the page in front
She merely stared
And painted a sea with teardrops on the shredded wood.

I passed along,
Pencil, charcoal, all that needs free
She sniffed, 'Better?' she said,
'I will feel better?'

Taking up her shivering white pencils
Of thin frail fingers, gripping graphite
Scratch, scratch, like a cat
Wanting to leave a locked room

The grey became black
The dust became mountains
And, she saw in here her life
As the clouds became rains

'But look', I put in
'Look what suns I make,
With a caring hand' I
Pushed a finger into the depths

A sunny print came out

Lisping, she rasped her breath back
And put a hand to the black dirt of the breaking
And made a hand-print;
Simple, like her delight

'You will learn to make
Suns of the shadows,
You will learn to make
Smiles of the silences

Your lines will be straighter
Your circles more graceful,
More curved to your *****
More jagged, if you wish.'

I smiled and she nodded
And watched her last tear fall,
Splashing down with tidal forces of sorrow on the page
An artist was born.
I love drawing and it can make many happy. As your lines become straighter you feel happier in the world of art, and from this you learn to live with other worlds outside, the ones you cannot alter, or perhaps can.
Sombro Feb 2015
Sleep, shivering lion
Let the silence of the warm night
Bring you all the hope you need
Sadness will wait until the morrow

Let the moon
Look down on you with kind eyes
For it knows what it is to be alone
And so tired of shining
Of being cold.

Sleep.
Lie by the river
Wet your brow
Wish the water over you
And breathe clearly for once

Sink
And only swim in the morrow
Sadness can wait
Dream

Live the sunken lives of your ridden days
Watch the stars twinkle on your paws
Never wake till you're ready again
Gentle, shivering lion.
Sometimes being depressed is exhausting and being alone is suffocating. We all need time to let the fever break.
Sombro Dec 2014
It's funny how
Food makes allergies,
But people, people
Make anxieties

Nuts make me red
Fish make me choke
I can't eat this, but
You and I are fine.

Let's see you when
You see some skeleton
Of the someone you shared
And you suffocate.

When I hear you I go red,
When I talk to you I choke
I can't see you, but
Food and I are fine.

Nourishment has two meanings,
I feed from you,
But obviously
I'm allergic to what you give me.
Allergies and people; both can be toxic.
Sombro Jan 2015
I believe in Déjà Vu
More than I believe in God.
A warning to myself
Of things to come
Seems more likely than anything else.

For after all, whom do we worship but ourselves
When we pray to a deity, aren't they what we want - Power?
When we worship the catwalk, isn't that all we want - Beauty?
When we laugh with someone, isn't that all we want - Goodness?

I ignore the church bells
I listen to the voices in my head
Telling me that
They saw this all coming
So they did.

It doesn't make things easier, but then
What does?
Déjà Vu.
Metaphorical voices in my head, I should say :)
Sombro Jun 2017
And to you, the hermit
I give the world
Such is your domain
And your quality
If God were ever to give travellers one thing
Sombro Dec 2015
Down in the depths
Of the fallen thistles of my
Jewel tree, we
Could not be baubles,

A tradition, set in chemical marble
As we smoke closer together
Blue, red, green
All the colours of a
Real crack

Don't feel for me
I think I have that side covered;
Just know,
Know what I feel for you
And how words are lazy servants.

Fly, dove on stiff wings,
Dive, depths of swirl,
Log on fire hearth and heart
Believe me,
Like I believe you

Don't feel,
Know,
Know I don't care about presents from catalogues anymore
For
You can't wrap what you feel in paper
Just in secrets...

Well no more.
Something random, but I wanted to write sonething for this most traditional of times. Things are changing.
Sombro Jan 2016
Some might die
For the chance to forget
The abusive beating of
Her heart

Their stony skin their
Gravest stone
But I
Have that power
To die now
Every day, forgotten,
But I don't.

The amusement
Of a tickling tongue
And a sparkling eye -
Fire
To my tinderous smile.

Let a little
Pain slip through
For it is with the cracks that form
That words are written.
Those words?
Live in love
Die when you've found it,
Together
A thought on the surrender of loving another
Sombro Feb 2016
I'm actually anxious
Because she told me to tell her all
When I felt
Shoots of spring grow between my fingers
Curling in the pleasure of finding her.

What can we grow into, together?
What would you take me to, if I asked you truths and forgot a lie?
I haven't had to tell you any yet
But I fear, no
I'm anxious.

Will I forget
The twists I went through to meet you
Some months spent in misery
Some hours spent in the pain
Under your knowing, wondrous stare?
Maybe tomorrow I'll find how
We should be apart, but
Now I have it all in me.

We
Or us
Whatever can be...
I like you,
And that's that.
alright, this is terrible, but I write what I'm going through, and this is very relevant :)
Sombro Feb 2015
She told me,
'Don't pick the rotten apple
Just because it hangs from the lowest branch.'
I shivered on my wilted stalk
Atop a lonely tree.
Ark
Sombro Dec 2014
Ark
I walked through a Spanish city
Or through Spain, certainly
At the end of a walk of pity
A church rose up before me
I went within to see

Inside the walls were printed
Gold was in the air
No idol left so tainted
By blandness in its golden hair
I left as soon as I would dare

Beside the church I spotted
A shop that wanted gold to pawn
My trepidation jotted
Words from which this poem’s born
I saw a doom of gold forlorn

Should men who see the value
Of all the things they shouldn’t touch
Take their fill, then **** you!
We’d lose a past worth twice as much
History, the present’s crutch

Leave the gold of past alone
For it is the moulded lives
Of so many who gave flesh and bone
To ensure our world still thrives
Gold is God that fate derives

It’s not the rarest thing
It’s not magic, it’s not free
But gold was loved by men who bring
The past to you and me
Lessons, love and history

So do not melt it into bars
Don’t hide it in the dark
For nothing holds forgotten scars
Like the art that makes its mark
On time’s metal shining ark.
Sombro Nov 2017
Looking at your eyes
Meat pushing out its package
Red licks my vision

Confronted with you
Flickering, guilty hope wanes
Greyness takes taxes

Talking around you
With the puppet interest
Candles drown in air

Cutting interest free
Float away, concrete balloon
Blame me together

Acceptance billows
What frost melted freed and kissed
I now show like ***
I am
Sombro Nov 2015
And when I knew the passage
I knew no fear
No bitter taste
The rainfall paved ricochets of bootheels saw to that

I knew no smell
Of losing my breath, nor
A shiver of cold down
My spine bared.

Coming out the other side,
The street felt the same
But I
No, I did not.
A thought on taking the small steps towards lingering challenges.
Sombro May 2017
It's at times like these,
that I remember the sound of a piano,
skin crumpled within an armchair,
arms wrapped like a present,
and two burning river stones here to hear stories,
It's at these dark times I remember that...

when all was calm,
and time did not stand still, but sat with me, deflated in the silence,
Looking into the fire, we shared deeply,
hoping homely things
would come to us,

so still, so slow, as if we were never born to move,
but sit and watch without thinking,
I remember those nights when all else broke down,
and sat quietly with me watching twigs crackle,
Describing a night solemn
and thick with temptation to sleep, but
somehow never managing it...

but to tiptoe through the thoughts we already had...

I remember that time
When the moon peered in,
anxious to share,
unable to dazzle us,
accepting second place beside the fire
and singing, if silver light could sing,
and I swear I heard it, constantly serene
Hum an eerie silver tune...

hmmmmmmmmm, lightly, haaaaaaaaa...

Even dust does not venture through this space,
gathering around the dull armchair
in every seam listening quietly,
listening peacefully,
As thoughts lap the shores of unconsciousness,
and slowly descend into a dark sleep,
Where even the moonlight cannot reach me
and no troubles can disturb me...

yes, I remember
I quite like this one, a calm thoughtful mood took over me. I like to think when I have nothing to rush me. It's at times like these I wish for nights like those the most
Sombro Dec 2014
Tell me something
Honey bee
What's the point
In you and me?
Is it to fly?
To fly so free?
Won't you tell me,
Honey bee?

Stripey black and
Yellow too,
What's the point
In me and you?
Is it the flower,
The nectar glue,
Which you find nice
And I do too?

I scratch my head
And drink my tea.
You dance your dance
And make honey.
Us two together
We know, do we
The sweet things we make
Make us sweetly free.
There's no deep meaning to this one, just a silly poem. :)
Sombro Sep 2017
If you should see me
Walking by
Hair shorter
Say hello
Say hello

If you should spot me
In a crowded dance
Body thinner, or thicker
Don't wonder,
Don't wonder

If we should fence eyelines
Gait slower,
Don't gut and run
Say hello
Say hello

If you should call me
I'm still here
Adorned in jewels
Ruby sun, sapphire waters
Ask for my emerald green
Emerald green
Ask for me
Sombro Jan 2015
Hello again.
Oh god, not you.
Me, but does it matter. Do you still care?
No.
Walk with me, lend me your thought.
Very well.

I am born again and you feel the same as past days.
I do.
Vulnerability is a new form of life.
For you.
And you are scared again.
And you are with me.

Does it frighten you, how far you've come?
Yes, where has time gone?
Into me, I am always with you.
My one friend,
Together* Together.
Shall we sink as one?
Of course.

How many days lost into your huddled fear?
Enough to make me strong.
And you are here to tell me all is lost?
I am here to offer you that choice.
I don't want it.

I have come too far for you, I have grown too tall, seen too much, outran you more times than you let on, you are no longer a match for me.
Do you feel brave?
You know I don't, ever,
But I feel ready.

You will need me
When you lose all
And truth is laid bare
You will need me
And I will be here
To **** you in
To steal you back,
Mine,
My very own

Property.
A conversation with a past me, a side I like to avoid. This poem may seem a little insane, sorry about that :)
Sombro Feb 2015
The thief sat before the telly
And ate his sandwich of white bread
I told him brown was better,
'My mind can't get healthy.' he said.

'If I allow it to think, it hurts me,
It doesn't like to be woken up,' he joked.
'If I think I know what I am...'
He ate some and choked.

And I watched him do it
And came to his aid
I cleared his windpipe quickly
And he smiled as he laid

'It's good not to let it breathe.'
He tapped at his head
'For thought is more comfortable
When thought is long dead.'

I watched him get up
And take some of my things
He explained as he stole,
'It's sadness life brings.'

'For when I am with you
I can talk like most won't
Society's less pungent
When I've done what most don't.'

He walked to the door
'Who are you?' I said.
'Just another aimless person,
Who was easily lead.'

He turned off the telly
And said to me slow
'Do not wish to travel
Where you cannot go.

We're of a generation
Who's lives have been taken
By dreams that hurt more
When we suddenly awaken.'

'I want to be a princess!'
He mimicked and smiled
'I want to be a rockstar.'
In the voice of a child.

'Me, I am happy,
for at least I know true.
We live in the shadow
Of the things we can't do.'

'Don't dream, my friend
For we are all forsaken.'
He held up my things.
'And our dreams are oft' taken.'
A thief, metaphorically what we may find in life if we let ourselves slip up.
Sombro Jan 2015
The starling rode the tree
And weathered out the storm
Though his mind had set him free
The wind still lashed his body

Atop the tallest cedar
He held fast upon the branch
His courage was his leader
His teardrops froze and broke like lightning

His nest fell with empty eggs
And he forgot to say goodbye
As he stuck fast with sureborne legs
And forgot to watch it turn to dust.

His gaze went deep into the heart
Of blue flashes of the sky
The nest of the treetop built for the art
Of the titans of the light aloud.

He let the night speak free its mind
For his was much the same
The tempest shook and roared and whined
While the starling stuck fast




The breath was lost and the sun came back
But the bird was not ready to feel relieved
He wanted more of the punishing black
To make him feel he deserved to forget.
Sombro May 2016
I love your
                   pitter
                             patter
                                        paws
On the tarred stroke of steamrollers
Wet, green-eyed, wet
The trees sigh in the shower.

I feel your floating
Your mock of pulls to nuisance
When you fly downwards
To your clouds, your puddles in the sky

What are we, I feel we
A kind of hope in others
And perhaps I said it once before,
But I'm here, here to sing with your pitter-pat
It's raining
Sombro Jan 2015
I think we should
All learn to play an instrument.
What a pity you can only play
My heartstrings.
And it sounds **awful.
B
Sombro Sep 2017
B
B-B-B-B
Bedtime now
B-B
B-B
B-Brush your teeth
B-B
B-B
Break your own rules
Stay up late
B-B
B-B
Bedtime now

B-B
Breathe
B-B
Breathe
Tomorrow you'll get back late
B-B
Broken phone
B-B
Broken
No time to fix it
B-B
Bedridden at the office
B-B
B-B
B-B
B-B



B
a little bit more like art this one, if I do say so myself. I'm trying to draw attention to the action of making the 'B' sound, the monotony of saying it over and over again, as well as the mundane and slightly sinister nature of the phrases between. This is about as close to the kind of poetry I was taught at school as I think I'm gonna get...

Edit - I just realised reading 'B' over and over again makes me question the very look of the letter 'B' - consider that part of the message.
Sombro Jan 2015
I have a cat
Black as midnight
With a tail strong
From bristling and curving into s-shapes.

He came to us younger and firmer
Fur thick with the muscle of the cold
From the hunt for somewhere else
And he was hungry.

My mother said he must have been beaten
Because he had learnt to fear a hand from above
So we stroked him from the side
Asking meek permission.

He learnt to recognise my shoes as
That one thing which brought love
And could not be human because
It did not shout.

I changed my shoes often when I learnt this
So that every day it learnt to love someone new
And now it fears no human
And sits warmly at our sides.

We called him Bagheera because
We know that he comes
From a dark jungle
Where only the strongest of heart can survive.
The jungle, something that we all perhaps lose ourself in. Metaphoooooooooooooor!!!
True story.
Sombro Jan 2015
If I had one wish
It would be
For everyone in the world to put on their brightest clothes
To pick up their most beloved object
To leave the house as the sun leaves the night with them
And smile at someone

Any person, that's all
Then talk to them
Show them their object
And coo at their companion's own
Then invite them to eat
And smile at the servers
(because, let's face it, they have hard jobs)
And talk

Then, meet more people
And take them somewhere nice
The park is a good place to go with a full belly,
And watch the bright birds go by
And talk

Then, as the sun goes down, watch it with others
And all sing a song together,
Any song
And sigh
Because
It was a day well spent.
If I had one wish...
I realise that for this to happen I would probably bankrupt any genie, but it's what I want.
Sombro Jan 2015
I saw a whisp of beauty woken
Its dragon eyes stole out from treasure
It roared, wide mouthed, no teeth in gums
And fixed on me with window eyes
I watched it flutter, not swoop indeed
Its wings were of hummingbirds
And I marveled at its probuscis
And it wondered at my soft skin


I felt
My peace float from me
My eyes turn yellow
And crack like old paper
My cheeks shrink from cold.

The beauty flew away
I knew not where
I was left with the treasure it had left
For I had won
But I missed the beast
And wished
It had never woken.
Sometimes wonderful moments make me sad. I'm afraid I'll never see them again and all the cherishing in the world could not do then justice.
Sombro Sep 2015
He hated open doors
Less to hide behind, he felt
And more for them to charge through,
More to use...

Walking past the spotlight eyes
He broke his sunglasses on the daily
And the burning light of the dim bulbs lit the school
Hurt.

Spaz They whispered
But they might have shouted
What feels like a whisper hurts like a knife
When the names are for you

He walked home out of breath
He never wanted to breathe again
He saw how breaths had been used to hurt
As much as punches.

And she hugged him

Carpet feels soft when you know the feet that tread it
Mum
What a feeling
Coming out of the plunging terror.

Darling
The sweetest word he knew
More syllables, more mind behind what he was used to
He ****** in the cherry hugs through his nostrils

And threw down his books.

She looked in at him enjoying
Time spent away from that
And smiled
He will get through it

Closing the door quietly,
She dried out a tear
Moving a sleeve over her birth-marked face
Which had earned her such identity.

Digging through a chest,
Long ago she had named "Weapons"
She pulled out her old school sword
Hello, Courage. she said.

Next morning she gave her boy his lunch
Of potions of strength and fortitude
Made magic
By her note telling him she loved him

Next morning she wrapped her boy
In an armour raincoat
Made iron by
Her hug compressing it to metal

Next morning she filled his tender hand
With her sword
Made courage by
Her own pain hammered into it

And she sent him back on his way.

As she watched him go
Feigned eagerness in his step
She could not hide his pain ahead,
But she knew what came at the end;

Ah, it has a thousand names.
But I shall call it Beauty;
For when he slays those demons
He shall know what he truly is.

And what they are.

He loved her
For she's only ever been amazing
And she liked herself
For her strength forged in the fire.

The boy knew.
A poem about bullying and torturing, inspired by one of the most emotion-provoking videos I have ever seen - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltun92DfnPY
I hope you enjoy it.
Sombro Jan 2015
If I'd done all the things you thought I couldn't
I'd be a lot less than you thought I wouldn't become.
Sombro Jan 2015
Waking up with a brain that sticks to the sheets
It must have leaked last night '***
I'm resting on a puddle.
A full bladder can't get me out of here.

Breathing deep and feeling your thoughts diluted
And yawning, though you're still half dreaming and
You could swear that this shirt wasn't on you before.
Why are you at work?

Coffee jumpstarts your heart, but you heard it misfire.
Your clockwork legs and arms wind back up and
You try for another day. The air outside your bed is
Cold.

You find your way back with miracle eyes
Just before you lose your softness
As you crash into the cotton shores
You're blunt once again.
I'm a heavy sleeper.
Sombro Jan 2015
To make music we often have to bend notes.
To make something beautiful sometimes we have to
Bend ourselves.
Sombro Sep 2016
Like the birds
Who can fly free,
I have wings
When you're with me
Sombro Jun 2017
One way we unify, One way we attest to ourselves,
Making short statements with the most jagged bits of our silhouettes
In, out, back, back,
One way we speak to each other, One way we pound thoughts into
What little shivering objectivity we have left
Long shadows describing his form, as he bounces here and here

One way we bridge what art describes
Colour, inference, red courage and pink desire
With a brandish of certain shapes, certain shapes
We find ourselves a little more than people. but blushed
Bound, exalted in the puffing of our slung forward rhythms
Your breath her suspended, surrendered image

How strange, we may form
And embody the body body of our longing
Of our skin-soft hope, sweaty
Snorting Showing yourself
Dancing, a little art, a little embodiment
Of echoes in all we want within
a note on the nature of dancing
Sombro Jan 2020
Sitting in bony wood
A seat to watch the prickly world stand still
Poised.
Reservations in iron clashing
Gong waves that drown

I can sit here silently
Smooth and clear as the varnish beneath me
This room has white walls
With ***** streaks like vapour trails
Across it, instead of human faces
In little square coffins
Nicely decorated, by, shaking, hands.

Questions don't need answers, I reckon
If my silence gives grey thoughts their place
Neat little rubix cubes make
Cult parodies
Of me, ironically bad.
Hee hee.

What a curious question
Whether instinct wants what is useful
And to trust it
Or shut up and simper
With the strength of women long jobless by
Liberty

In all things
Agency's just a mask
Worn by actors whose plays
Use up the muscles

My words can be recycled before me
Repurposed, simplified to fit new slots
Hard, to be a useless orifice
That wins nothing scarlet when it is ******.
Boa
Sombro Oct 2021
Boa
I felt her on my belly
A well fed boa
Squatting for the day

She writhed as my heart beat
Drawing tighter to my
Pinched breaths

I saw wild eyes, glancing, prancing
Sprites, friends of the serpent,
Laughed, for I had fallen mute

To the forest floor, and lay poisoned
Shrinking before a gleeful crowd
In love with an animal.
Sombro Sep 2016
I have nothing more to teach you
For you have little more to learn.
All that's left to tell you, dear
Is cotton torn to burn.

Don't fix your jump on raucous bones,
For listening is done
With eager ears and cagéd breath
Without a thought for fun,

Without a thought for interest,
Without a thought for care,
I leave you lonely, such it is
To leave you dancing there;

And though your shouts shall echo on
I shall fade like paper
And though your ink on my skin scalds
You're still all I paid for.
Sombro Dec 2019
An honourable account
Of sympathy 1, 2, 3, 4, deferred
Finally something contained but
Lastly nothing.

I fortify puddles night and day...
That ***** grass grows by
And willow trees that twist and knead
Into crisp faces that
Pose for me.

Oh! Wood Coven!
Questions 345
What unknowing awareness they show, what membership
My cobbed old feet can't follow.

A successful heart with fearful veins
Taken lore-y blood for bishop doubts
From chambers of marbling fat
On a ****** run.

I found online that
People were scared of me
But in person they didn't care
I wonder if they dream so hesitantly
Or if they sleep just to wake up
On a pillow that smells like their wife's arm
Neutered, like feathers clipped short

Perhaps with that I'll choke
On a wishbone of some bird
Or my bones, brown like civilised wheat
Will nourish some fat lip
I'm not sure of that

O, an honourable account.
Sombro Dec 2014
As sight is servant to the sun
I am servant to these
Smiths and songmen
The lives bent over a desk

Working as a canvas
Daubing themselves with
Whatever ink they find
Muck or gold make marks

And I am fettered
Achain to their words
I stare into their eyes
But they reflect me

I don't believe it
Boy
Sombro Jun 2017
Boy
His red shirt lingered on him
Drawn across his back, casual as he liked
In a sense his dark jeans and red shoes,
Gently tossed his image to my eyes
Where he lay in my imagination, etched into a rhythm that stayed still
Peaked features pointed in all directions, ears
Perked to listen, eyes
Sharp and facing anywhere but me, face
It, his hair seemed to say, we're not meant for each other
With a casual wave of a parting

But I kept staring, though my attention almost slipped
And I regretted it, though not the tale he threatened to tell,
But the sense he could have said more
Never moving from his corner
With red drawn about him,
Like a poisonous warning to all
Who might see more
Led me to such feeling.
No more.
Sombro Jan 2015
I don't find it easy to spread love,
But some people make it like butter.
Sombro Oct 2018
Little trickle of delight
Dews morning games
Calligraphic nonsense adorns
My chess-board smile

Hope is made resilient
By proud eyes, puffed out-chests
Full of hot air stoked by flushes
At other people's stares

Knowing what you want is putting a price on peace
A candle out for tomorrow
A loss in the books for someone's father
Grinning tobacco teeth

Hello, hello, it's hard to shout
From a grassy hill on a street corner
Traffic crashing, mouths yawning arguments
Cities bending in to listen

Truthfully engaging means
Rings around ankle joints
Joints around palms
Joints

Furrowed brows may tell me
Brail hips give me hope
But candle-light won't tell me
You'll feel like tomorrow.
Sombro Dec 2015
We liked to walk
Most days
Where the willow trees reached down to strangle us
And the current ran away
Down the great stream
Path.

We liked to steal
Jewels and gold, mostly
Into homes where we would
Smile the stones into pockets,
Grin Cheshire grins,
Take London treasures
Glint.

But of all
We liked to sit
Drinking warmth through our skin
Sipping silence with each other
Until she'd laugh,
Laugh like a pin to a balloon
And we'd part,
Not knowing
Our next adventure.
Sombro Oct 2015
I tried music
Squeezing my head dry of emotion
I tried drawing
Scratching out an imperfect form through the window
I tried to read, but
There were no pages I could turn.

So, I sat back,
And crossed my legs,
Leant my head back on
My hoodie-pillow
The sleepy sunlight fell and
Tumbled through the dust pane
A smile on its face.

All faces forward
And all mouths shut
The meditative silence
Propped up by the hum

And for a moment
If only for two
We might all sit back and
Live in two times of space between
The fretful embark and the doughy step-off

The bus.
I'm on a coach and after a week of pressing workloads the silence here is wonderful. Surreal as well.
Sombro Jan 2015
Give me one chance
To tell you why you don't deserve another.
I called this 15w because apparently I can't tell the difference between syllables and words :)
Sombro Nov 2016
That which is lifeless,
May hide behind a shade of certainty
Thus the tiger masks its barbarity
With beauty on its body.
A cheesy poem I originally wrote as a joke for some friends (I changed some of the words). I think it's just nice enough to submit
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