the daughter universeLonely men, I’ve noticed, will pay off their little housesthe daughter universe by spoems
and live in them by themselves until they burn down
from a dead gas pilot and 80’s paperback philosophy.
In other words, out on one hundred highway north at dusk,
which is a daylight’s ride from the sack, the dunes simply
spill out on the road; the crazy thing being, nobody’s worried.
Keep driving until the damn thing just ends at the last rogue pier
on the island’s tip. There’s a dark night beach on the right
and if you wade into the waves, about 130 feet, east by northeast,
you’ll find a miraculous shoal where the salt from a trillion graves
will wash up on your thighs and the moon searches the dark pitch
of water like a frantic mother. Pick any wave and follow it fondly
until you forget of me,
AlchemyInside these walls, I wait past dark.Alchemy by spoems
The shadows steep and over-brew
long before I move a bone;
I’ll never return to mother’s moon.
Star and night, my bench flakes off
cicada shells and sunflower wilt.
By Venus light, it’s a driftwood throne,
an old carob bullet firing straight for the sun.
The air like ink collects and cools:
it is the black throat where braying forms,
and where shady gardens melt and pool;
absorbing the ghosts of cigarette-waft.
These onyx planets swell and bloom,
and metabolise like sheer witchspells -
I turn these crystals to my core
And try unlearn this spiderweb gloom.
Former days contort through tremulous fisheyes
relapse at the bottom of two emptied mugs.
My disfigured mass quakes in its past,
crumples like a demon husk, roadkilled in a dream.
How many molts with their veiny dead hues
do souls need traverse, an urbanex sulking
through concrete petals, ’till our sin
becomes sarcoline, an imperceptible solute?
Electromagnetic eyes to lick
workshopThe hearth in your denim pocket,workshop by spoems
quietus and earthen floor
windows settle nostalgic dust
and hold outcroppings through their pores:
maps, manuals, flightless single wings
awaiting consequence, a bloodless chore
in the future you have willed the world
for those of us who still remain
workless as the dead.
workingI wakeworking by spoems
on the end.
each blade of body
greys like cedar
from their sleep
with a cruel child’s
yet god, buddha,
or the last aching
offers up a salve
at our Mass of the Unnamed:
in the early grave
I took offMy day off.I took off by spoems
I stand in sunlight
I can watch it being day.
The mud is soft and cool at home.
I'd bury well without a casket,
I’ll be a naked pill for earth.
I build a garden box from wood,
smash my thumb.
too late for lettuce.
I had a premonition
I would live like this.
No one will remember me.
I’ll forget by Tuesday.
VagrantsYour words are vagrants,Vagrants by Scarlettletters
bent black and blue
by the wind -
soiled and lonely,
waiting for a beautiful man
to brush them from your face
and make them clean.
They long to find a hallway
and to intoxicate someone's lover
and play Jezebel in his arms
what his name really means
and why his wife is dying.
They want to call him on the telephone
and ask if these scars are real
or if all sin is original,
immaculate and lacking,
like something left out overnight
that cannot find its home.
They want to hit below the belt
and leave lipstick on his collar,
a telltale slash,
and climb into a whiskey bottle
left hiding in a suitcase -
the kind your father carried
when he left you
waiting for a promise.
love and justice: a blind dateI now preferlove and justice: a blind date by YouInventedMe
so I can quake
and curse fate
of the burden
avoiding left by
almost alright with
once you learn
riding a bike
and it seems
I never met a liar
that I didn't like
I love you's
not a sentence
there's a sort of
what's a boy
when fear's not
what it appears
intuit an intent
when purpose is
FidelityHe sits like a tree, strong, but relaxed. The round top of his bald head reminds me of a bowl. He is draped more in serenity and wisdom than in his simple robes. The radiance of his communion with all life clings to him. His presence adds nobility to the austere room.Fidelity by indiana-w
He captains soldiers, not of war, but of the mind.
I sit with my brothers, legs dutifully folded. We gather around him like the river washing around a rock. His is a guide at our center. His knowledge is to us like the secrets of the divine. His word is to us a holy command.
he raises his voice,
and we follow with a roar
like a waterfall
She's a PoetDon't fall in love with a poet --She's a Poet by TheCoalMineCanary
She'll speak only in riddles and metaphors
And expect you to comprehend
Or maybe even reply in verse of your own.
When you ask her what
Her favorite flavor of ice cream is,
She'll say wheatgrass,
And to favorite color,
She'll proclaim strawberry.
If she loves you back, she might
Say your skin is her sky,
And your eyes, her sun.
She will not be satisfied if you call her beautiful --
She strives for radiance and enlightenment.
She will prefer rich violets to red roses,
Bleeding cherries to chocolate,
And running barefoot through tulips
Instead of candlelight dinners.
And if you spite her?
She'll cry no tears,
Except for the drops of ink
That will come to describe your faults.
It would be simpler if she hated you,
But no, you'll only be the subject
Of her next masterpiece.
To create inspiration is to inspire creation,
So please, don't you dare love a poet --
Don't you dare love me.
Elena's FaceLord, I tried.Elena's Face by discocabrado
Every piece of you that broke,
I glued it, sewed it, hoped.
My cheek ached
where yours was bruising like a peach,
withdrawing. Something taking you,
cell by cell, like a palace
dismantled by masterthieves.
You changed from coffee to white to green
and finally a shadow started settling
over you. Understand:
I couldn't leave you there,
where rats used your pelvis as a throne,
nursing their babies in your vellus hair.
Couldn't leave your fine lips to wither
and me a doctor.
Gentle, gentle with her.
The sun is up. Away.
Cloud number threeShe dancesCloud number three by NOcaster
to the deafening sound
in the sky.
Of all the oddities
she had in mind,
she chose to make me real.
|my favorite dA poetry|
Little GirlLittle girl,
You've been hurt.
Betrayed by those who should have been the most loyal,
hurt by those who should have loved you,
scarred by most everyone
you ever met.
I know the shadows in your heart,
how they obfuscate every minute
of your life.
Nightmare paths in forests of wakefulness.
Deep in the woods.
One day, you will learn to walk.
One day, you will learn to run.
You will be unable to move,
You're eyes flitting frenetically,
in the headlights of your sudden life.
It will be OK.
Take that step off of that ledge that seems so terribly,
Do the unthinkable,
Take his hands,
I know where you fall,
in the end,
when you resist.
Half your years gone.
Half of your life in Your Hell,
bringing him with you,
pulling on his hand,
nails so deep they draw blood and scar.
You know you don't scar the ones who matter most.
they don't matter any more.
RivalryHello there sir! If I could just show you here,
a painting by none other than myself – glorious!
I have painted for many a rich man like yourself.
Take in my colours, the way the light soars on down
and perfectly lights my subjects face – superb!
I am a perfect candidate for your choosing right here!
Hello good sir, I am but mediocre in this craft
I have little knowledge of drawing the hills, however,
my skills in anatomy and hands are showing through.
Please pick my work, I only strive to improve.
What nonsense this boy speaks! His art is worth nothing.
Compare his forehead to mine, what do you see?
I have lines which show my effort and wisdom, him?
As blank as his mind - you need a real artist
who's art you can hang proudly and not be disgraced!
Look at the canvases alongside and see who is the best!
Excuse me sir, you're not being fair! For you were me once.
My spirit would be lifted, I assure you I am worth-
Come here my good sir, leave this fraud behind.
Name That BabyI'm gonna lay it on the table
Do the tell
Get the spelling right
Got called "depressed"
Took it up to "manic"
Bipolar in the head
And they said --
"Make it longer,
On taking pills,
To flatten my hills
Knock out the frills,
I got double-damned.
'Cause a this shit --
Father dies in a pool
Mother dies too,
In love with a fool
Mother let days pass,
No food or water
How did she last?
I closed her eyes,
They felt alive,
Like little butterflies.
Hector also dies,
Left alone by
The very unwise,
Young white cats
Die like that.
Spat out with
All the cancer-dead
She too went back.
And nothing stopped.
I saw them all
Saw them all day,
Blood and flood
Not from me
Not my feed
Just these -- "things."
Small cold voices
In my ear
None could hear.
Little people sat
And they stood
And they spun,
In colorful fun
They had their run,