On this day of rebirth for the Poetry Tag ...
In the past, we’ve all complained that those in charge didn’t care. Features sat, wasted, when there were a plethora of posts that could have been but never were, featured.
Today, with the help of Cat, new blood was inserted into a dying tag.
I’d like to take this time to speak with them, from my little blog. I am no one, I am just a guy that’s been here for close to three years. I’ve seen the good times and the bad times.
You each have an opportunity to influence and shape something extremely beautiful, if you so choose. You can also do what a lot of past editors did and just feature your friends. This becomes whatever you want it too, ultimately.
When Cat asked me who I thought should be in the roles … many of those who are now sitting there in the editor seats were on my list. But i’m going to implore you each to do what I told Cat; every time you feature someone; post on that piece of literature - tell them why you did, be responsible for your picks. It will defuse any possible “well so and so”.
It will give credibility back to this tag.
Each one of you have the ability to find great things; be adventurous. Go out on a limb. SHAKE SHIT UP.
I’m excited to see what happens.
you've tripped over enough cracks to miss me-
you just keep tripping over me,
don’t you?
you must have missed me, lying
on the side of the road,
screaming into the grass.
my weak limbs on the concrete
must have gotten in your way.
the shining locks of hair must not
have had their usual gleam.
you keep tripping over me,
don’t you?
you’ve walked over this sidewalk
a thousand times,
you’ve stepped over me just
as many.
as you misstep and slip
on the cracks beneath your
feet, you miss the girl falling quickly
beneath them.
you don’t see me, my cries for
help, i am as useless as the ground
you stomp on.
everything comes to you easily,
doesn’t it?
you’re life is as privileged as they
come, italian leather shoes
and custom fitted suits.
you don’t see anyone but yourself
when you glance through
store windows.
you keep missing the life around you,
seemingly below you.
right under your feet.
you will never stop tripping over me,
will you?
you will keep crushing my bones
into the earth until all that is left is
dust.
you wont ever see what lies just
under your nose.
keep tripping, see where it leads.
you know nothing else,
so why try to change you now?
lost in the eyes of my hurricane
Let rest your weary seagreen eyes.
Allow those turbulant storms to settle
quietly within the tranquil ocean skies,
where sirens test a sailor’s mettle.
The coldest hearts are warmed, my dear,
by one night’s journey on calming seas.
May you be guided ever toward me by
gentle aid of a homebound breeze.
Upon a glorious glowing sunset
cast the troubles you may regret
to greet the melting horizon’s haze,
then follow long-lost constellations
in search of distant destinations
far from view of my loving gaze.
Close your deep atlantic eyes, love.
Let slumber your violent swells of hue.
Calm your troubled mind mid-journey,
for the softest sands but wait for you.
If you shall find your way to me
I’ll hold you close forevermore,
and keep at bay the selfish sea
who would steal you from my hallowed shores.
thank you to these two lovely gents who wrote this beautiful collab with me<3
raisethecurve
foq-mushroom
they’re amazing.
“You're an angel who likes the taste of her own feathers, but hates how the halo shines such harsh light on her dark, tanned complexion.”
—Matthew (raisethecurve)That Sinking Feeling
I am suspended
in this moment—
between gentle glance
and warm embrace;
standing still upon
the waters of time
waiting to be filled
with half-empty dreams
of your loving face.
I, a statue
within quicksand,
fall at a steady pace
at this late hour.
I neither await
nor anticipate
dusk or dawn to
greet my eyes.
I submerge within
liquid suspension
which bears no sign
of my existence.
My honest intentions
are stuck in between
these instances of
incorrect inference
and infinite regret.
As absence fades,
I dare not walk in
the sun’s grace,
for even the rain and
these memories of you
fail to fall upon my face.
I pray for heavy storms
to come to remind me
I’m not long for this place.
This stagnant hourglass
takes forever to fill,
slowly suffocating my fate
with cold, dampened grains.
She knows me; she
with eyes like prose
and a mind of poetry—
the tale I oft recount
to other longing hearts.
An IV of the pen,
with the ink sinking in.
Bled to black, it
leaks from the skin;
but a story without an end.
A beginning sprung from
the end of my pen—she,
the girl in black, bearing
lips that end where mine
begin to speak her name.
I seem to have abandoned
the key left waiting
in the mainly empty cavity
of my draining arteries.
I let her slip between
the lines of a love scene;
performances remembered
forever in the dark lit heart
that resides within me.
I always forget to look
for the stars locked away
in my own rotting rib cage.
I see her shine on each page
of the book that bears my name.
How could I have known this
girl I wrote would rip my heart
from my spine and forever
bind her existence to mine?
———————————————————————————————————-
A collaboration between Matt and I. I adore his words and it is a pleasure,
always, to work with him.
Eternity only lasts a lifetime,
I was told by an old man who had
Been nearing his end since birth.
He considered every day to be
a blessing placed before his eyes;
a joy to him, every day on earth.
So embrace your immortality,
He would whisper as he roamed
The streets. He claimed to have
Lived three lifetimes in 70 years.
What he withheld was the truth
that immortality is only a lie.
What he whispered to a stranger,
his loved ones would never hear.
You’ll miss it when it’s gone,
As we parted ways. I thought myself
Special for hearing this advice,
Believing my life would change if
I could balance conflicting lies.
_________________________________
A collaboration between:
RaiseTheCurve and
Can we just admit that Matt is awesome? Yes, yes we can.
It is a sincere pleasure being able to see your lovely words everyday Wolfie hugs
Thank you Wolfie. You’re one of the people that I look forward to seeing on my dash as well. Your words are an enjoyable combo of wisdom and humor. Hugs back at ya, and wishing a wonderful weekend to you and yours.
P.S. Since my crush list isn’t working, I’ll have to go old school. If it was, here’s what you would see:
Mademoisellechapeau 5%
aquietjoy 5%
raisethecurve 3%
irrelevanceisbliss 3%
yumandcoke25 3%
desayunogratis 3%
dsdwriting 3%
innocent—child 3%
Look Dennis you made the big time. LOL I’m sure he’s cussing me out right now. Also, for you math majors out there, I only have 8 listed. My narcissistic number one crush with 7% was that don’t cry dude. I use it for reblogging myself, what can I say. I do always tell everyone to love yourself, perhaps I’m slowly, very slowly learning. ;)
Hope everyone is enjoying this lovely day.
Love,
Mike <3
flirtatious, feral, perpetually ablaze
of a curtain blown by midnight breeze
touching the edges of the chair
where you are leafing through pages
of your head inclined
eyes drifting past words
eyes then looking up
your lashes mimicking
the teasing curtain
your lips curving
up one corner
your dimple showing
eyes on me
(litting candles)
one, two
eyes not on me
(starving tigers)
now on the book
white sheet of a curtain
teasing the redness
of wooden chair edges
how can i possibly
be satisfied
with just that?
——
The prompt was “flirtatious, feral, perpetually ablaze”. I couldn’t insert the words though. So I used it as a title. Yep, I’m like that. Sir, are you satisfied? (I am.)
double dose [divinity]
As a child, curiosity overcame me more often than not. I found that there was always more to a story, always a nugget of knowledge to understand an object or subject with more depth or clarity. I learned a lot quite early in life; I chalk it up to all my questions.
After Thanksgiving but before Christmas was the season called Candy. My grandma made mountains of Christmas candy. Chocolate covered cherries, chocolate fudge, maple fudge, peanut butter fudge, buckeyes, stained-glass windows, haystacks, turtles, chocolate suckers — my grandmother made and then packaged all these beautiful, delicious confections.
I loved helping her in the kitchen. She came equipped with that special patience that only a grandmother can have and she encouraged me to help her stir, count, mix, and measure. She even gave me my own stool and apron for the job.
I knew there was something to this huge candy ordeal. Who else had a grandmother that made pretty candy to put in pretty boxes? When my friends made candy with their grandmas, they only made enough to enjoy for a little while, to give away to a few people. We made enough to satisfy an army.
I often made up answers to questions or concepts I didn’t fully grasp; made my own stories. One particular afternoon I decided I needed to really know. I reached for a fluffy white cloud of divinity. My grandma saw my intention, broke the candy in half, and indulged me.
“Why do you make so much candy, Grandma?”
“We make candy because it’s Christmas.” My grandmother believes in keeping things to the point.
“So all this candy is a present?”
“Yes, a lot of people buy this candy to give it away as a present.”
“Why don’t they buy their candy from a store?”
“Not all stores can make candy taste as good as your grandma can, that’s why.” Grandma also knew that once I was interested in something, there was no stopping the questions. She shared her story to satisfy me.
“Listen honey. God helps those that help themselves. Christmas is the time of year that everyone remembers they should be helping others. I like to give you gifts. I also give gifts to your mom, your aunts, and our friends and neighbors. This time of year is stressful for adults and takes a lot of our money. So I do what I can to fix that help myself by selling my candy so I have more money to spend on gifts or to give away. Never forget this: God helps those that help themselves.”
My mouth was full of sugar and vanilla, but the lesson was not lost on me. I may have misinterpreted this lesson throughout the years, but I always did my best to follow my grandmother’s example. Help yourself, then hope for the best. Always, I hold on, hoping.
hungover sober
so after approximately 4 hours of sleep
i’ve reflected upon last night’s activities
with therealvagabondking and
reversed-rainstorm on JadedNoizeRadio
and i’m fairly certain…
…i’ll be losing a bunch of followers soon.
Big thanks to Salty at freefallinletters
and Matt at raisethecurve for helping
us raise the banner of the Revolution.
Best Kept Secret
Rise gently
as the sun sets.
Swim through waves
of warm light rays
to meet my soft embrace.
We will move
to chase from
lover’s sight
the chilling gaze
of the eyes
of a lonely night.
Float on a pool
of perspiration.
Dive deep into
tender moments
as desire builds.
With each
undulation
your mind does sway,
and as I lay you down
your worries drift away.
Sleep to dream
of morning haze,
when our voyage
shall begin anew.
I will lie
at your side
and stare at the moon,
praying this night
will never end,
or at least
for another with you.
And if ever
these slippery,
smooth satin sheets
sing songs of our
salacious ebb and flow,
your ears will burn
with fire bright
and my heart,
my heart will know.
