Another Madman Poem | JD DeHart
I tore myself to bits
and scraps
Then littered the earth
with myself
Then birds came
carrying me to and fro
Now I need a ride home
Spare some change?
poem on nature
Under Cage | El Sane Ken Silencer
The moon is a wonderful creature
The stars are amazing in their culture
Twinkling, the moon and the stars keep the night alive
A story believed without being seen.
Darkness, a friend I have
And plead flees if I have luck,
For it has my heart consumed
Making me seem a follower
to no clock…
When shall I see the sky bright
What shall bring me to the light
When the sun that makes every day hot
Have I never seen shining bright.
Nature! They say it is destiny,
Is it mine to stay in always with
frowned face?
Trying to smile, I feel I might get no change
Like this, is being under a cage
going to change?
Perennials In Parallax – A Poem by Richard William Kirkpatrick-Thorne
Turns To Take,
On The Crushing Gritted Down,
NoWhere In Nor Out Of Its Serrated Fulcrum,
Surviveal Through A General Anesthesis,
To Appease The Scratching From WithIn,
The Frantic Struggle To Maintain Dormancy,
Flickering EyeLids In The Black Shimmer Of Satin,
Hearts In Stasis To A Rendering Of Cages,
EnThroned In Reviveal…In Approach To Its Melting Point,
Saturateion Of Flesh With Phantom Accumulation,
Assimilateing Into A Failing Sense Of Space…
…
Leaves To Rake,
On The LushFull Green Lawn,
Knowing Where To Be Ignored… Devout In Its Swinging Hammock,
Serveing All In A Self-Centered Assignment Of Duty,
To Will The Match InTo Strikeing Against Thumb,
The Gentle Combustion To Forget Romantic Demure,
Flames Licking Lashes In The Blue Summer Of Saturday,
Heated In The Smoke To A BeFriending Of Ages,
EnThralled By Desertion… By Appropriation And Its Mounted Pelt,
Desiccation Of Reason With Infantile Perennials,
Failing To Fully Accept A Sense Of Time.
More at http://rwkt.blogspot.ca.
New Day – A Poem by Tokoni Uti
It is the lot of man to count his winnings.
And the way of nature to usher new beginnings.
The man in his youth will do as he please.
And tree in its season will shed its leaves.
The revolution has returned to take its turn.
And has ignited a flame that will not always burn.
The simplicity of naiveté is adorned in flowers.
And the new day is here and ours.
Somatose Estates And The Skin Of My Teeth – A Poem by Richard William Kirkpatrick-Thorne
It Is That Below,
SomeWhere My Shapelessness Directs InTo Form,
Arriveing At The Fringes Of Bent Light To Where Ten Seconds Break,
Behind Blood Pulsateing InTo Woven Lineage,
As Time Crafts A Fleshless Escape Towards Another Mother’s Tongue,
And It Clings With A Senseless Instinct For A Breath Beyond Taste,
Fraying The Cords That Suspend…
…
And Yet,
It Is That Belonging…
…
Somatose And Sculpted Precedeing A Possessive Nature,
Alive As An Offering InTo A Different Slight Of Forge-Wroughten
Conditions,
Before Bone Crushed And Ground For An Unraveling River,
As A Seed Of Archetype To Where I Was Once Only ALone To Speak,
And It Lingers While An EndLess Obsession For All That Gives And
Takes,
Knotting The Words That Settle…
…
And Yes…
…
…
It Is That.
More at http://rwkt.blogspot.ca.
Strawberry Moon Eclipsed | Christine Emmert
The strawberry taste of life
is one to which I am allergic
although the moon came out
large and succulent
that night .
Thunder shook off the pink color
and lightning revealed anemia beneath.
Rain washed over the heavens, dripping off the clouds.
Our anticipation was bathed
in reality of heavenly rage.
Far from Center | JD DeHart
I’m running far from
center in the driving
rain, constantly
moving to the distant
sound of your lovely
voice, the music our
life makes in another
dream landscape.
Roundelay – A Poem by Roy K. Austin
Identity- an empty shell
yet feel the limpet grip the scaur
and yes, it is a living thing
for at my touch it grips the more.
Are we the theatre of our time,
the characters that come and go
for if we radiate like stars
it is our centre we should know?
And if we be the characters
are we the author here, to say
‘lets take the memory we played
with and let us as actors, play’!
Our preconceptions vary so
and keep us tight unto the tether,
how will we ever know the love
that holds it all together,
how will we ever get parole
or will we ever make the break?
All space and time is irony
to live behind those bars we make?
Come look into the void of space
see what is dancing in your face,
and ask there, is the Milky way
a Roundelay, a Roundelay?
More at roykaustin.weebly.com.
