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Literature Text
Poetry is not
words
pushed from the mouth
like a race
to orgasm.
Poetry
is the sound of the mind
stripping its gears, measured
by the opening
and closing
of a cranial trap door.
Or,
a single drop
of blood
in an ocean of pomegranate juice
(the refined palette
tastes the salt) --
Who knew words
were heavier
than air?
words
pushed from the mouth
like a race
to orgasm.
Poetry
is the sound of the mind
stripping its gears, measured
by the opening
and closing
of a cranial trap door.
Or,
a single drop
of blood
in an ocean of pomegranate juice
(the refined palette
tastes the salt) --
Who knew words
were heavier
than air?
Literature
Lullaby
"I've been waiting my entire life to tell you that I'm dying and I figured I'd finally get it over with.
So here I am, carving forgive me
into my teeth, so every time that I speak
I can still say that I'm sorry.
More years have passed in the last than I care to remember
but I could never forget:
In eighth grade my chorus teacher always told me,
'Michael, you'll never be good enough.'
and it always excited me. It reminded me of my mother.
On the last day of school she smiled,
her teeth jagged like a train wreck,
she didn't say a word,
but I knew exactly what she meant.
In high school I fell in love with a roadside bomb waiting to be deton
Literature
Her Silent Suicide
Solid oceans, liquid skies, a silent suicide
Close your eyes and hold your breath so you'll enjoy the ride
Drink the vodka, drink the wine, and drink until you're dead
Hush the others, let them go, and love yourself instead
Bathe beneath the alcoholic's secret wonderland
Medication in your throat and whiskey in your hand
Solid oceans never beat the sand among the shore
Liquid skies melt through the wind and slowly hit the floor
Silence drowns the universe as all does fade to black..
Through a silent suicide… now there's no turning back…
Literature
Eternal Sleep
A sirens song,
Calls my name,
Sorrowful and beautiful,
Filled with pain,
The call of death,
Promises of peace,
An eternal one,
Of endless sleep.
Her open arms,
Hold me close,
As the coldness
Of death takes hold
Numbing and frozen
As the pain eases away
I close my eyes
And with my last breath
Say your name....
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I usually avoid metapoetry but here it is in pure stream of consciousness as it is meant to be.
Do your worst.
Do your worst.
© 2012 - 2024 xxDearOblivionxx
Comments1
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Interesting concept. I like the beginning a whole lot. The comparison of producing poetry to producing orgasmic noises is cool.
They layout for me is no my favorite type of poetic layout. A little jarring.
Overall, good work
They layout for me is no my favorite type of poetic layout. A little jarring.
Overall, good work