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Dan

Posted by Bsklgn on May 22, 2018 at 11:25 AM Comments comments (0)

Rip my soul, gouge my eyes 

Remove my heart with a butter knife 

This is what I'm living for

Show me my blood,my guts, my gore

Hurry now and do it fast

Make it quick but make it last


KILL ME PLEASE

THAT'S ALL I ASK

KILL ME NOW

KILL ME FAST


none of us were alive

the day Dan Hathowith died

Fears of Trees and Tears

Posted by para on April 21, 2018 at 9:10 PM Comments comments (0)

Everything stays the same for me

I see

Everything stays the same

For you the trees move

With the rhythm of the wind

But dare not leave their roots


Bored

Death

Stagnant

Dark candle

 

Flame

That’s all you are

Tiny flame that licks the scalded blackness

Only

Because you can

I don’t think you could go away


I hope

Break my heart


Leaves

Burn me

In your descent


The 80s are gone

As dry and

As brittle

As spent wax

And my biggest fear


One day

Things won’t stay the same

For you

And nothing will ever

Be the same

For me buried beneath the tree

 

Smoldering ember

In the throes of murder

Suicide


Bloody

Sparks

Falling star

Tears

Tears


My biggest fear

You’ll love someone else


©Jen2018 4-21


Nothing More

Posted by para on April 1, 2018 at 1:20 AM Comments comments (0)

Were I to wear the fur of my beloved cat, the softest pelt known to the fingertips of mankind, I would feel peace.

Were I to melt into any reality between here and there, the broken space unseen by you, I would be solid; A specter intent on contentment.

But, as of such deficiency, I weaken. I weaken of anger. I weaken of frustration. I weaken of fear.

I weaken of depression.


A small child, such as me, should cry under heavy quilts made for kings and feel the warmth of mother’s concern of inevitable fevered brow.


The weight of my aged limbs and scars falls heavily across the black sky as a sarcastic, fire-breathing monster in search of not only today but of the past when I had a chance at being alive.

Were I to be alive now, I may wash upon a shore of regret and that is a shore that does not exist.

 

There is nothing more I can do to make life feel worthy of its breath. Were I to try, I may implode into a black hole of anti-matter- a sunken treasure integrated into the burden of the sea.

 

Where are the new chapters?

  

©Jen2018 4-1


IMAGINE

Posted by Marsha on February 18, 2018 at 12:55 PM Comments comments (0)

sitting in darkness

existing

surrounded by echoes

heartbeats

shrouded

embalmed

detached

invisible

i hide behind a false sillhouette

smoke and mirrors

sleight of hand

a rabbit in a hat

i hear but cannot speak

i see but numb to feel

i imagine without dreaming

kaleidoscope vision taints the horizion

unreal

skewed

divided

if you could envision my soul

what would your next move be?

Erzulie

Posted by Cutter on February 17, 2018 at 2:40 PM Comments comments (0)

I see you, dressed only in paint, beads,

herbs hanging like offerings, woven into your curls,

jewelry sculpted of bones and stones,

no metal to disrupt your lightning,

I see you naked yet wrapped in power,

dressed in storms of light,

of shadow…

~

In my dream (I was not sleeping…)

I saw you wreathed in pink smoke, it flowed around you,

in a serpentine river, like sunset clouds,

just catching fire with evening,

it encircled you like a gentle lover,

leading you to dance,

making you burn…

~

I heard her voice, soft, sing-song, golden,

like honey poured over sun warmed stones, molding itself,

to the curves of my brain, her chanting,

filled every corner of the moment,

I heard her prayer, her commandment,

heard her calling you to rise,

to waken the souls…

~

I closed my eyes (I was not sleeping…)

Her veve floated in the air before me, scarlet, elegant,

words formed themselves from the light,

“My daughter, I ask you to show them,

introduce them to their own raging beauty,

lend them your witch’s eyes,

so that they may see”

~

Your eyes, flared like lightning,

green in the gathering darkness, absinthe in ebony,

tears glittered like constellations,

all guiding the lost toward home,

throwing your arms wide you sang, you screamed,

calling on the suffering

to come, to be healed…

~

I watched you, remembering,

as they heard you and came, starving, sad and lost,

one by one, then by hopeful tribes,

they came to hear your promise,

“Let me show you how beautiful you are,

let me remind you my loves

of your own magic…”

~

I see you, dressed only in infernos,

smiling ever enchanted by the visions, by the lives

posing before you, soul naked,

wrapped in the magic of your spirit,

I see them finding themselves in your witchcraft,

you dare not disregard the dream,

as I was not sleeping…

.

.

.

LC2018

 

Taking Form

Posted by Shadow Wolfe on February 16, 2018 at 9:05 PM Comments comments (2)

Calling to the Mossy Oak

Words that curl by sooty smoke

Fires crack and spark so high

"I have a form to take this night.


 

 

From darkness, blood, and tears

She comes out of their fears

And laughing she ages expresses

The lustful sin her smile caresses.


 

 

So take the form and don't delay!

Her family is coming home today!"

And sleeping fae bursts into bloom

A pall to hang, like thread from loom


 

 

And running fast among the trees

She scrapes her face, and rends her knees.

But as she screams into the night

She drags the moon up to cast its light.

Back with a Broken Cello

Posted by Wordmachinist on February 16, 2018 at 8:35 PM Comments comments (2)

Back like a dagger in the gut
no more ruts...I am screaming machinery!!!

Broken cellos make the saddest laughter
not sure what I'm after but
seeds can lay dormant forever
broken machines that rust
may be polished once again
and to each of you my friends

Welcome back, to the machine.


J raymond davis 2018

Shapeshifter

Posted by Cutter on August 12, 2017 at 1:00 AM Comments comments (0)

Drifting through the spaces between,

I travel by alleyways, game trails, train tracks

through overgrown valleys, dripping in grape vines,

barking dogs, the relentless hum of human life

mere yards away.

~

My skull, is a bone jar filled with madness,

roaring ghosts, quiet poems, restless tongues.

my dreams have dragged themselves into the world,

making my visage ripple, shift, glimmering,

as it absorbs the light.

~

My hands are magician busy, eight armed,

like some forgotten Hindu god of storms of shaman,

I hold up chalices, vertebrae, plump, leech fat grapes,

dandelion golden serpents, calm, hypnotic,

swaying as I dance.

~

I drop seeds in the hollows made by my naked feet,

ancient trees, that will burrow down, cracking the foundations,

dig deep to find the veins of cold water, tasting of stone,

running like blood through the core of us all,

pulling us toward the moon.

~

A broken soul made of ten thousand masks,

ten million stories, all marked by subtle, dark variations,

tracing the origins of your bones, your lust, your skin,

marked by sigils that must be tasted

if they are to be read, at all.

~

I leave fires behind me, struck sparks, flint and steel,

into fridge drawings, love letters, tarot cards, predicting grief,

the flames unbound, left to spread, or die as they must,

called or quelled by the life force around them,

or the resignation.

~

Dressed in rags, in leaves, in skins, naked as the truth,

my skin painted, scarred, blemished, divine in its imperfection,

mottled as if made of all races, my colors restless,

shifting with my dreams, my songs, my laughter,

giving me wings when I dream.

~

My drumming hands, whisper, then scream for divinity,

calling down into those thrumming, humming, pulsing root paths,

surging up to stroke your core, your hara, the deep heat,

inside you that keeps threatening to die out,

I call on it to burn…

~

Sing me your soul song, dance for me unadorned,

come to the edge paths, the narrow passages, open your windows,

when the clouds are black to the west, bid me in with tea,

talk and the crying, aching beautiful story of you,

and the reckless geometry of my soul,

will become still,

for a moment…

.

.

.

.

CM 2017

 

Infected

Posted by Bsklgn on May 15, 2017 at 11:10 PM Comments comments (0)

Im infected by the genetics you passed to me

Poisoned by the soul I inherited from you

An evil sickness that ran through your veins 

Now courses through my own 

Our black hearts beat as one

A synchonization of genetics and fate

Each day I become more like you

Angry, Violent, Drinking

I can't stop what God has decided 

I cant stop the infection from spreading 

The Shakespeare Man

Posted by DE Navarro on September 8, 2016 at 5:00 AM Comments comments (0)

Hope I'm posting this in the right place.

The Shakespeare Man

 

Alas my friend perchance that we should see
the twilight, Oh, the end of verse in rhyme,

or ever we should suffer such a fate
become the endless slaves of ever-time.


'Twill be such time I roll within the grave,
for long I've slept and such a day I've feared
return me Power—let me live anew,
so all the world again will be Shakespeared.


Within my bardic spell they shall be caught
I'll end this shame most singlehandedly
and waken them to slamming as I ought
an open mic for old grandstanding me.


Yo, yo, listen up now, the Bard is in the House:


I'm the Shakespeare man from a different century
and I got a lot of meter and a lot of history,
I wrote so many sonnets and I wrote so many plays,
they gave me credit for some shit, who wrote that anyways?
But I don't care I'm all in it, I do things my own style,
and if you listen up to me I'll make it worth your while;
you think you have the corner on profuse profanity,
I think I'll call the coroner, you abuse insanity.
I mouth off with the very best that ain't no fuckin' lie,
I'll put you shitheads all to rest, and make you whine and cry.
I'm the Shakespeare Man, the edge is mine, I claimed it years ago,
you have no mother fuckin' clue how radical I go—


—shift with me now—


I wrote the book on radicality
perplexed society in this locality
with impropriety of profuse verbality
old world variety; new age reality
spurn papal piety in dark mentality
my vanity's insanity has got the best of me.


So that's what I'm sayin' now and I ain't fuckin' messin',
I'm the old world bard with a new world slammin' lesson,
I'm not sorry that you'll never be as great as me don't pout,
I'm the Shakespeare man, I'm here to stay, be good, ya'll,
peace out!

 



©2015 DE Navarro and NavWorks Press

 

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Haven't really refined this yet, I'm sure I'll tweak some things.

 



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