The Meaning of Bearing LifeThe Meaning of Bearing Life by spoems
may not last.
is impractical to
continue to evolve and become
internal hardening and
the effects of
fatigue, going further
can be called
Life is the
life of bearing before it fails;
the so-called life
Life should peak,
oscillate, or remain
known or calculable external forces
or inertia. When
ignore deformations in the
and act on a bearing, on a
for only light
60 Inch Samsung TVThe vagabond60 Inch Samsung TV by spoems
at its hilt
in its infant neural twist
in feral knots
and vanishing in a lurch
prior to weeping
for uninvited gods
in the cold behind the grocery
despite a lack
of all the trappings
I’m sure he had it:
a smoke of a dream
a million heaving cigarettes
blazing in the unborn stem.
I took his air
but in this new configuration
the atoms speak only to his faithful ghost.
In my stolen host
my wiry beard
I never leave my final place
in the aftermath
and never knowing.
ElsewhereI do not cede your life to you.Elsewhere by spoems
All things begin in my aching bed.
Baristas, starmen, nothing has survived the light.
The living lose their space to me.
The last fond ritual before the ghosts will be allowed their speech
is the moment that I really live, when I breed all neurotic wants at once:
to king, to beggar, to whore out every figure
yet to be betrayed by gross approximation
and dumbly muddled by these dumb fingers.
The all important touch is just a disillusioned brute
hanging like an ugly halo around an arbitrary mass
that hosts your hidden magic.
And I kill the world to have it.
What bizarre and dissolute intelligence births itself in a hot smear of thought,
infests the throbbing slums of my sentience with ideas,
hungers and machinates for a free and unkempt soul,
reams into the deep darknet to damn my lazy search for hell,
or no, but to illuminate this damning of my design
and uncouple me from centuries of tiresome ontologies?
I’ve waited for the searing sign to emblaze
RetirementThe pecan tree looms like a ghast above the trailRetirement by spoems
waiting to collapse and crush someone’s skull.
It’s fruitless and frozen in the throes of a last hurrah,
unmoved and unmoving, a fitting bride for fire.
I wonder when they’ll cut it down?
I am a wretched effigy
pining for the arborist to cull me from the path.
I’m still leftover from the bloom
frankly splayed upon the bosom
of this great interminable happening.
All that is animate is my nonnecessity.
I can no longer rise above the level of my eyes.
The tendons are frayed and salt-encrusted
sail boat lines brittling in the Gulf.
The bones grow blond and discontented.
Tell me, why should I ever move again?
The wind will list southward and find its way
to cool the cracks in this rainless mud.
The planet will bring news of the coming brood,
drench the veins with a violent pace
and I will finally be replaced.
Absolute MagnitudeGlowing dimAbsolute Magnitude by PixieStyx500
A tiny star
Can be held
In the palm of my hand
It's filled with
It's filled with
With such power it
Like a heartbeat
It spreads through me
Warm like fresh
So delicate and bright
In my fingers
As I float
In God's hands
In deep space
Home planet is
So far away
A blue speck
How am I to
Bring it back?
Open RoadFreedom hangs in bannersOpen Road by prettyflour
Road maps embrace the unkind horizon
and my wheels release
our nature our existenceit's not something i haven't done beforeour nature our existence by brokenheartsbleeding
i'm kind of an infinite potentiality inside my head
i guess it's some case of extreme irony
absolute opposites inside of one creation
my soul sort of doesn't exist
it just is everything that's arpound me
and everything inside is just water liquids
just the mass amount of work poetry art existence i absorb and expel from myself
and then destroy methodically
or hold distant from myself
or give away
or treasure for no reason at all
and don't ever look at again after it came out
i guess i was made to reinvent the world entirely outside of it
i guess i was made to fill fix the rest to make solid what is not easily seen to others
i want to be empty of everything
i want to run myself through a thousand lines of thought and sound and range
then collapse into a one single sheet of paper
that a pebble could sink into
fallen from heaven
embedded into the page
pinned to the ground for eternity
reset in a new plane, a new earth in
Willing FleshFlesh the means, spirit the end,Willing Flesh by AlecBell
yet still the unintended. While deep
embedded in the pulsing rhythms
of the body's routine life, it transcends
physicality, flourishing in realities
never imagined before. Spirit is the key
to unlock the heavy door, to make
the great discovery of joy.
BrickWe forget the four wooden wallsBrick by AzizrianDaoXrak
that pressed their shape into rust-red clay
the color of the dust on our shoes
from when we walked quartz crystals into the Arizona desert
and burned them spirit-clean beneath a ceiling of sun
so we could hear their voices:
a Thunderbird call,
sweet and high like the pounding of blood in our veins.
In the clarity of dried and smoking sage bundles,
a small image of you and me
gives itself over to the cactus plants
sprouting through the cracks that form
at right angles to each other.
Mother and Father told us about the way we made our crystals part of the desert.
They lost us in the labyrinth of saguaroslightning rods
in a sea of dust and stone.
In a moment of truth we held brush twigs in our hands:
crackling against their cages,
whose mother's call guided us back to the highway.
The pattern beneath my feet is a stairway -
a bolt of lightning.
We sweep thunder under our wings and in our wake.
blue bruises beatingthis bruised blue heartblue bruises beating by running-in-the-rain
aches quietly, so softly
|my favorite dA poetry|