When you take
and divide it by
women and men;
shackled to the next
there is no turning back again;
Each of the numbers
write from behind a face
and a name only known
by the remaining of the eight;
stationed, they form a natural loop
around a cauldron, boiling hot
they each impart upon the brew
the best of what they brought;
with words heavy as a ton of sand
and fire embers burning old as time
they concoct a wondrous trail of smoke
that creates a beacon above their firelight;
With every flavorful addition tossed in
the fire blazes and pot steams and steeps
the froth that simply forms along the surface
is potent enough to put a crackhead to sleep;
The reason being for this magick
is the formation of a dangerous clan
a legion of literary sword mimes
was how the strange brew began;
This group is threaded by invisible strings
a need to release all of the past happenings
and create from them something…
to counter, with some kind of solid meaning;
each dark, smoky tendril that vaporizes
from the brewing force into the Universe
another gladiator slain by an Arena Beast
another burial of a memory’s curse;
they evade beneath the canopy’s shade
a sword dug in the soil by each’s side
for they have forged the smallest army
hell-bent on turning the compliant tides.
How this mind
constructs a place,
a metallic taste
by the grace –
of another space
just yours and mine
where the thoughts
of you and I;
Nobody sees –
just you and me,
just the way
we like things to be;
You feel adored,
and I feel carefree.
A dream belonging
I am when
in the morning;
to the flushed cheeks
Stay locked in this position,
as the rain is drizzling;
of this place
where we hide,
matters too often
anymore to me, at least.
that time is truth
and truth is a lie;
Happily lost in
of your eyes,
Rain weighs in
and take twice
as long to dry.
Take me to the ocean’s edge;
bury me there in your kisses,
so darkly lit at the corners,
the smoothness of your mouth…
the snapping linen of windy echoes;
Tell me your most hidden truths;
confide in me your every secret,
so sprinkled by shimmer,
the peach fuzz of my skin…
the slapping palms on my ass cheeks;
Read to me from your Book of Poems;
find me safety beneath the voice,
belonging to my Saline Ghost…
the Guardian of my ears and lungs;
Visit me when I sleep and dream;
teach me such righteous divinities,
by one likened to a premonition…
the breaking of a titanium chain-link;
Promise me that you will stay;
poised at my side like you are now,
so collected to balance my insanity,
the ease by which you forgive…
the ripping up of nails from a coffin’s lid;
Lie to me if it means forever;
bury me beneath what you so choose,
so vulnerable to your many strengths,
attentively absorbing you like a sponge…
the infusion of some good in my life.
“I have your answer.” he says through the satellites;
The answer – to a question…that I asked him tonight;
A tickle to his Wizard brain –
A thought, one driving me insane;
He is the winner playing on this field;
He breaks the records, he owns the game;
of my bullheaded difficulty, against his grain.
“Look inside of You.” And his words ring true – to my bones;
“This is me, is this you?” heartache gone…Let’s go home;
A tickle to my inner-ear –
A touch, a truth, I long to hear;
His are the hands that carry gently,
my evidently beating heart, he knows my name;
he holds the stones and feathers of the home from which I came.
“There’s nothing broken about you.” He’s all business in his tone;
Over and over and over…until the message starts hitting home.
A Journal of Absurdist Literature
to display words in whatever fashion inspires the soul
CPTSD, Anxiety, OCD
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23 years old girl travelling solo on a motorcycle.
Art and Lifestyle by Brandon Knoll
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Talking about what's important to veterans with disabilities.
My mental health and I: From the darkest corners of my mind to wordpress
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Welcome. My name is Lawrence. Here is a collection of my writing, some of which will be included in a future flop.
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An occasional blog
It's just G.
don't make people feel bad about something they genuinely love
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Mental health news, reviews and all things funny.
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A Journey Out of Domestic Violence
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a poetry collection
Poems, stories and more. Mostly fiction.
Steven Cuenca: Manic Expressive Episodes