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ice cold winter++The leaves stroke palms with each other,
in the gentle arctic breeze, dancing
to nature's rhythm.
The sun, redundant,
but still gleaming through the glass clouds, triumph,
crashing through the frost,
splitting and saving the serenity,
boasting it's beauty over continents.
Snowflakes falling, winter debris,
settling on the surface, to sleep and,
to not awake until the first bouts of Spring.
when the snow will melt,
and the fog will fade,
and the ice and the cold will both hide away.
Until winter comes again,
to crack the October mild,
and freeze us,
like statues in the sun.
But until next winter,
this one's just begun.
PerpetuityIt feels like years have flown,
since the seeds of forever were sown,
and the gardens of eternity were grown.
I grabbed you by the hand,
fed you words you'd never understand.
Our trust and devotion were new,
but so rapidly they grew,
and the garden the world once knew,
Our vines stretch to the skies,
and continue to rise, even today,
they tickle the stars a lifetime away.
on your voyage to felicity,
with no vessel but the butterfly wings on your back
to guide you home.
Your atlas is amongst the stars,
routes of silver rivers, and diamond constellations in the sky,
to follow as you fly.
And when you reach the radiant splendour,
through your night-time tunnel of eternal abyss,
You'll fall like platinum rain to the floor,
when your wings are too weak to soar.
rising from the riverit's one of the drowned days; those that drag
like hooks through a river,
turning dead things
belly-up on your shores. listen.
i am listening. to name it lover,
this ripening ache stretched
between us; to know
what it is you carry. you
are a deep silence gardened
by ghosts; hanging
from the hinges of a sprawled
elsewhere. (they are here
still, pacing the long brim
of your memory around
to the long brim of mine.)
i too have been drowning.
if not by one stone,
then another. the autumn quiet
of the body
in bed. this language named skin,
beast, temple, home. underwater,
you open your mouth; amniotic
void of unspeaking, horizontal
trespass from dark to dark.
lover, i would kiss
your ghosts. the spinning prayer
of my mouth taking their poison
into mine. secrets
blooming there, blooming dark
like strangers. we sleep now. dream
ourselves against them, dancing. promise
the space of your breath worth more
than its abandoning, the static stain
that crawls you out to sea.
Dandelion's Lamentthe warm spring wind
gives me life
no one desires to defend;
they call me Weed,
stomping me down
to the level of Crabgrass
and Poison Oak,
although I harm none
with my meager
I can grant your wishes
as your cold breath
sends shivers down my
stem; I can
thrive on the dream-fields
of children, who still
call me Flower.
ForwordI have not become stronger
in the broken places.
Bones ache of age
and each cracking joint
is an audible reminder
of paths walked too long
and of steps
that should have been,
but were never taken.
Bent fingers jut
from palms of sandpaper,
calloused and crinkled,
they cannot grip
with that same eager desperation
of a child seeking comfort.
Black becomes gray
at the gates
of troubled temples and
once saliently sweet,
decay on the tongue
like the sound
of necessary words produced,
but never employed.
I have not become stronger in the broken places,
but scars and bruises,
sprains, cuts and concussions this day
are always better than
regrets and second guessing
Of BlissKissing daffodils sway,
serenaded by the waver of
faces blushing bright
as the sunlight
the beauty's in the leavingRead aloud here.
sweetheart, let's head out. let's
drink up the desert asphalt and that last bottle
of johnny walker blue--
one last toast to the copper sunsets,
to the good earth. a pair of
tailgate stargazers, you and i:
roaming curves across the glove compartment map, until
every foldline is worn flannel-soft
and it'd rather stay open
let's forget route sixty-six. let's forget
and pick up terra cotta dust--
breathe in the mojave. let's pretend
that the world's already ended
and it's just us.
let's leave the door unlocked
My Mouth, a GraveyardI buried my words
under my tongue
& turned my teeth
Here lies hello,
too shy to be uttered,
just left to wither
while my fingers tapped out
& here lies goodbye,
so scared of being alone,
it left the roads between
me and we empty.
Love died the day my
heart started beating,
when it pumped out
too much sense &
not enough courage.
Sorry was found murdered,
its meaning stolen,
the day it would have been
I smothered help with my claims
that I didn’t need it,
then I forgot how to breathe
& no one could see it.
My mouth became a cemetery,
& I chewed on petals
to keep the smell away,
but no matter how many
happy poems I recite,
my words I can’t revive.
moonsongthe crescent moons bitten into my palms
break apart the hard worn lines written
there. a fortune teller told me
it was just a matter of time before my
universe crashed in on itself
and my stars ripped themselves apart.
your gray-sky-eyes swallowed me whole
and i fell down, down, down
while your piano key fingers played
my melody one last time.
you need to have a plan...so here's to
to some forgotten shore.
2. fall desperately in love with
i. the ocean
ii. the sky
iii. the honey sunrise and
iv. the steelgray winter dawn.
soul-deep into the water and
4a. search out the requisite words
i. from behind white and blue curtains
ii. and underneath clam shells
iii. and in the wakes of fishing boats, and
4b. pluck them from the ceaseless
scrawls of sunlight
against the slopes of waves.
5. make time for
ii. and other
AtlantisOur ships float close under sunlit skies,
hovering above Atlantis.
We claimed the ocean miles as our own,
an underwater district which we would call home.
Suffocate with Neptune,
as heavens burst through violet haze.
splits the nebula, infinite space,
and explosions in a faraway place.
And when the sun should close its eyes,
you'll sail afar.
To climb electric vines,
and lay in the arms of the storm.
on old sanzu - absolutely true fictionlast fall i stole my friend down by the tama river. we sang. we danced. we skipped dead fish like rocks and watched them get swallowed by the undertow. we got sick off of bad chinese food and went skinny-dipping and then a week later she drowned herself.
her uncle was a yakuza, i think, but he really just wanted to be al pacino or something. anyway, she loved him a lot. maybe that’s why she went down the way she went down; cement shoes. not real cement, but it was the same idea. she had two cloth bags with yellow-painted cinderblocks inside, and they were tied to her ankles like the prisoners’ chains from o brother where art thou.
in my mind’s eye i can see her, limping dreadfully close to the edge of the current, her left hand gripping at her breasts through a loose t-shirt. kneeling by the wastelands, elbows in the gravel, crawling forward out into the water. angry like a dermis under wool, all teeth and salt and sand. sleepy, submissive, sublimated.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More