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Literature Text
I looked back; the city stretched and
pulled me under. I’ve lost my mind
in its jewellery stores and rat-holes,
eyes rolled seasick across its floors.
Angels and murderers ride the trains
mutely and cough when they cover
their mouths, flash their knives,
bare their teeth.
I’ll still walk a broken tunnel
long after I am gone
when the place has been picked clean
and the sun has passed out in her party
dress, the fairs all rolled away and
electric lights dying –
when I’ve made it to the edges
crying and muddy on the banks of the river
where God and the water meet
she’ll still be spread there, the sleeping
body of Ra, drunk cheeks for the
earth to warm its hands upon,
between the cold flowers
of the morning after.
pulled me under. I’ve lost my mind
in its jewellery stores and rat-holes,
eyes rolled seasick across its floors.
Angels and murderers ride the trains
mutely and cough when they cover
their mouths, flash their knives,
bare their teeth.
I’ll still walk a broken tunnel
long after I am gone
when the place has been picked clean
and the sun has passed out in her party
dress, the fairs all rolled away and
electric lights dying –
when I’ve made it to the edges
crying and muddy on the banks of the river
where God and the water meet
she’ll still be spread there, the sleeping
body of Ra, drunk cheeks for the
earth to warm its hands upon,
between the cold flowers
of the morning after.
Literature
The Flowers in Her Hair
So sensitive and compassionate, yet torn inside,
Mercilessly beaten in her heart with cruelties unspeakable.
Careful and confident she makes herself to be,
Though she falters and struggles tirelessly along the lonely path she has been dealt.
Her strength is from above, far beyond the sky,
And the heavens that contain the celestial majesty that can be seen.
Her faith is an ornament upon her,
That clothes and wraps her as a smooth white gown to announce her deep love and her absolute purity.
Though her world turned against her in fierce rage,
She persistently kept on, emptying herself and pouring out her broken spirit before her S
Literature
Reykjavik For Lezayre
so slip, i stumble. fumble with the
doorknob and your key falls with me
im falling into - there you are
i see you in
these ports and the sea foam shades
of the fog that parts at dawn the day
before i find myself - here you are
i want to be left alone but -
it was the taste, salty and too sweet
it was too much and my tongue
is not appeasing or the tricks
that tease -
come close. still this one last time
there’s something underneath your
skin steady i want
inside
you - to see, how i memorize you
in every gasp that splits the air around
us and when you cum - crashing
Literature
Blooming Dream
Wandering in my thoughts and lingering in my heart is a simple field of van go’s design in which a beautiful maiden wanders like a glowing pearl amidst a sand of sunflowers. Playfully she hides amongst the flowers, comes up behind me and catches me in her embrace. Slowly I turn only to hold an image of you…As I loose this image to day I can only smile for your memory still holds me in its embrace. The pain of losing you in a moment but gaining your visage has caused me to tremble deeply for I realize it was only a dream but what a glorious thing I felt, the warm sun was beating down on me from above as a playful breeze blew the po
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Comments21
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I really love the imagery here.
I did feel as though the flow is a bit disjointed throughout - is this intentional? That can be powerful in its own right, but I wasn't sure if you meant it to read that way. Wow, redundant comment is redundant, ugh.
Regardless! I enjoyed it.
I did feel as though the flow is a bit disjointed throughout - is this intentional? That can be powerful in its own right, but I wasn't sure if you meant it to read that way. Wow, redundant comment is redundant, ugh.
Regardless! I enjoyed it.