A mix of everything from free form, to verses, to spoken word, to haiku touching on all topics from insomnia, to addiction, to borderline personality and mental health.
Loosening around the edges,
With screws tweaked hard until they’re embedded deep.
Frothy blackened ink flows with silkiness,
Out across the indents to smear your tools.
Graceful and petulant the grime shines,
A mirrored tone that shakes each reflection.
Fingers slide off in an impatient rush,
Avoiding the wandering glaze seeping out with each torque.
Whetstone polish to sharpen the blade,
That soldiering behemoth of broken muse will never do as bade.
Because, are you kidding me. Verbal brain sex without a condom. Thank you pseudonymous #wordplay #poetry #crazy
I had a vision while everyone was sleeping that I would find you where the redwoods met the madrones I was to go there alone six years ago with my perforated medicine water bottle backpack two pape…
Source: Craterellus cornicopioides
Insanely possible impossibilities,
Shattered and replaced with ingenuity.
Hot roach on a highway hitting nothing,
I hold all the aces and still I’m bluffing.
Smeared sneer pasted in a smile,
Choking on air – so I’ll smoke for awhile.
Ups are getting tossed ‘round the downs,
When I fall and trip I don’t hit the ground.
Show me the trail and I’ll run on through,
I may laugh at death –
-but death laughs at you
I saw the sun set in a shallow grave,
And I watched the moon twitch in its cage.
I’ve seen infinity twice,
And I’ve explored both ends of life.
I gazed on the rage in a sea of smiles,
And I studied the eyes of a man who was not beguiled.
I’ve battered my way out of the inferno,
And I’ve walked in the halls where the saintly dream to go.
I’ve left my enemies in the past,
And I’ve brought my friends with my out of the ash.
This universe has done its best to beat me,
It’s learning now that you can’t defeat me.
I play this game called life on a different board,
I hold all the aces,
And all my pawns are lords.
I’ll throw my seven,
Lay my straight,
And you can king me.
Another checkmate in a game you don’t play for free.
The landscape of hope breathes life to we Travelers.
She takes in those who walk upon her,
Brings us to the peaks of our mountains.
She shows us clipped horizons opened to infinity,
Has us inhale crisped air cleaned with freedom.
Where lights cluster above,
Their thousands of points glimmering success,
You’ve made it to join the others,
A star in your own sky,
An inspiration to the next Traveler.
Hope will lead you to become something more,
And the darkness will always give way to your light.
VERY quick spoken word – pushing for speed to grab the urgency of mania or #bipolar.
Playful polliwog with your legs half formed,
Your tail amuses the bigger frogs you’ll soon learn.
For their tongues are thickly sticky,
Lash out quicker than quick and then more quickly.
Poor little polliwog,
Today is not going to be your day.
Wordgasms on wordgasms – found @ Sudden Denouement
…i will drip in the vaccinated womb, an embryo worm in the vapor soil…
Source: gentlemen prefer bones – Sam Lucero
mothers soaking touch
drowns the meadows
sinking in blue pastures
where the lamb is missed
& the wolf roams low
above there’s laid out
a garland of stars
for the marriage of the
moon & the husk
stillness mourns
the wind, that like a
drifting treasure had
heretofore stayed buried,
braided up in that locket
of rust & wire
bursting out into the wild
with the lantern of
the sun resting in the
grip of a paper-doll
inside these leaking vaults
velvet shadow & coffin
are to the liking of the quiet,
as the hurricane counts down
on ferny fingers
the moments until
the end of my best holiday
i will not soon shroud
my lullaby with the isolated
murmur of old, nether-bed gods,
the arctic toil
of a choleric world,
& the river I drank from
to forget
i will drip in the vaccinated womb
an embryo worm in the vapor soil
waiting for the homecoming
of water, of nectar
sleeping until
the dream wakes
[Sam Lucero is creator of sixredseeds. Please take a moment to read her wonderful bio and look at her other work. Sixredseeds.wordpress.com]
Vividly vicious,
Pointedly pernicious,
Real life though through time they are sent.
Soaring sacred,
Helping hot hatred,
Occupying thoughts and blinding sight with recall bent.
Worldly window,
Boldly brittle,
Truncated life in fell cobwebs do they build.
Spindly spiders,
Truthfully totter,
Legs dancing across silk fields.
Memories mine,
Flurries recall and define.
The man that I once was,
Chaos attached to the leg of a dove.
Today I acknowledge the taste,
Confront the facts,
Carve away all the emotional waste.
Plummet describes in a word the dumb shit,
The result of a life lived from one hit –
-to the next and that second of fuck it.
As intense wash the waves,
Through your secret filled caves,
Telling memories back from where you sent them away,
Until the shores are a littler cascade of broken mirrors pelting your gaze,
Each reflection a question,
Each flash a suggestion,
Of what happened and why,
Where you broke the faith and started to cry.
Each lens is a how of what could have been,
Who you are without all the sin.
No more pills and bottles and rock,
Bags of dope, sacks of coke and the inevitable cops.
Living on streets and the pity of strangers,
Acting devil may care to numb out the danger.
When each shot you took put a pin in your son,
Blocked his love just as well as you holding a gun.
You got loaded and loaded,
Raised finger and goaded,
As your legs washed out at the thighs,
From a tide on the rise.
If not for the merciful care,
From those you punish unfair,
You’d be sunk,
Drifting drunk,
Out to a personal sea in a trunk.
Boxed up tight when you ran out of fight,
Away from the world and your right,
As a man to do your best to make it alright.
And as long as it took,
For you to confess as a crook,
Thief of dreams, hopes and beliefs you forsook.
You can’t change the past,
It’s gone while the onrushing future hits fast.
So you accept the regret,
Live learn love and refuse to forget.
Keep strong in surrender,
Committed to change,
Because in the end you’re not alone,
And are any of us really so strange?
To Ink - a blog from Melting Neurons 