Gravely shone her paling shadow,
in silver whispers of death did her desire portray the beauty,
the brevity of life,
and the briefest moments of love.
The perils of being human-
born to live in this gloom,
and the shadows, the hidden echoes of pain
that cry out to fulfill our doom.
In the haunting beauty of that invisible flame,
she cried,
and on the shores of sweet delirium
she lay, and softly died.
Blood rains from the dark sky
Racing down my windows
I’ve seen more shit than that
Bring it on, fuckers
Bring it onI rose
And I rose
And I roseCockroaches surge from earth
Like a massive mudslide
I am more enduring
That’s all you’ve got, fuckers
Is that allI rose
And I rose
And I roseTornadoes descend in mass
Ripping trees from the ground
I walk through with a yawn
I’m stronger than that
Bring it on, fuckers
Bring it onI rose
And I rose
And I roseHere is my secret
love was smeared in my face
innocence ripped from my gut
I’ve seen my soul dangle
Like a string behind me
And I rose
I rose
I rose
Like a kite on a string#poetryriotprompt
“At the moment of conception, the story exists as a superposition of possibility, idly waiting for someone to crack it. Waiting for someone to skip to the last page.”
—
On world poetry day
pick a writers blog; pick any
scroll to the end; no matter how long
There you might find a gem; something old
something worth a consideration
then share til your heart’s content
this day deserves it
And she said she felt like a child
when she wrote
and i said
goodtry and write like a child
try and write
with freedom and lack
of artifice
try and write without
the filters of adult experience
try and write
about the things that matter
however childish
they may seemdid we write
or think
about what might
when we were children
or are we only scared
now we are agedis experience better
than innocence
and why does it seem
one only comes
at the expense
of the other
Hangover poetry
is not so easy
but then sometimes
stone cold sober poems
come from cold sweat
and poisoned thoughts
He, he tasted of metal, rusted and corroding like an acid in my mouth. Me? I tasted like cotton candy, warm maple syrup and a hint of buttered rum. I knew it then, in that moment…We were destined to destroy each other…I could hardly wait.
-bunniblue
You’d think
we would show
more love
to all of these people
around us
who are stumbling
towards their deathbed.-Samuel Decker Thompson
She’s a mystery dressed up as a memoir
An autobiography that will never be published
An unconscious fiction
A daughter of Heisenberg
Uncertain, unless alone.
“I’m Only Myself When I’m Alone” ©Cee Hunter
September 2017
