I.II.III.

Phenomenal piece from oldepunk ❤

RamJet Poetry

i,ii,iii

I.

Temper temper temper

Speaking 31 flavors

Of madness, you stalk

me once again

Dance in iris

tourniquet Titan

Breaking through seals

Make the deal

A Devil sits at my table

Progenitor of pale hollow

The air in here is casual

A callous malice whispers

Pressing upon

all the dreams

Dying in the cracks

Of the floor


II.

There’s a model of

your bathroom from

the old apartment

in my heart where

you live.

there’s a deal

with a Devil

on my mind

why is negotiation

such a grind in this place

there’s a Giant at my table

talking about how he’s been

feeling small

all my days

are bleeding color

hard targets in

soft appliant praxis

barking dogs worry

over the scraps of souls

in a bin out back


III.

I should be worried,

you know?

regression to the mean

a Golden fact

when caught in an act

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This Woman, Two Generations Removed

Absolutely exceptional piece ♥️

The Eggcorn

She said last month, 
after knowing her 50 years,
that she cried on my behalf
every weekend after I graced the porch,
which smelled sweet from petunias,
with my crumpled paper-bag luggage.
 
I didn’t tell her that I cried too, 
with downcast eyes
and contracted shoulders, 
willing invisibility
from terrifying locusts
singing in the trees.
 
Or when the sweet sour-cherry jam
was replaced with
twenty-nine cent tacos and
I was left to shake
my dirty clothes
into a pile on the grimy floor.
 
I never told her about
the nights alone,
when I couldn’t close my eyes against the moon
because suffocating dark amplified
ghosts of angry voices,
those nights, when I couldn’t find the stars.
 
She said, last month,
that she should have bought me a suitcase.
I just laughed, because the paper bag didn’t hurt
but with a tightening chest I knew
that was…

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things with flowers

Gorgeous piece from Devika 💛

MY VALIANT SOUL

bc6c6dcb0f924115b8e3f3389ef7a67d127409177.jpgits like lilies.
diluted heaps of blue tears.
scalded and indexed.
all the marking onto my heavy lips.
My lips are even today,
with plum shade paint
dancing on the rim of sorbet.

its like white wildflower,
a fish with black scales dancing in its slumber.
Piquant, small pebbles cascacding from tears.
salty as skin. salty as dream.

its like mirror,
sequin shades of lover.
i am wondersruck galaxy.
These veins in my hands run fever now.

Thank you dear readers for always reading my words and leaving your lovely comments. I truly appreciate it.

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Quarry – Jimmi Campkin

Phenomenal piece from Jimmi Campkin 💛

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

DSC_0068.JPGI’ve been sitting on this icy stone for half an hour watching her swill the endless whisky miniatures, produced from her pocket, around her ulcer pocked mouth.  She hisses at the weak sun, and in the cold our breath mingles like clouds colliding before a storm. The sky is barely lit; just a candle covered in dehydrated piss and viewed through a filthy window, but the grass and the sheet metal buildings and the broken down flat fences all feel alive.  Even the dead trees kick and stomp under the soil, trying to work their dry roots into the moist holes under the soil.

We’d spent the morning in a burned out car, trying to find the places where our arse bones didn’t pinch on the exposed seat springs, making all the appropriate vrooming noises and twisting wheels both real and imagined.  I hadn’t slept in sixteen hours and I’ve…

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Blush

There is something seductively sinister about this piece. I love it 💛

Silent Hour

blush

Rowena was hiding behind the rosebush in her garden, watching Julian through his window. He was having his morning cup of coffee. Rowena was jealous of that cup. She was jealous of anything he touched and anyone not too timid to be close to him.

Rowena had been watching Julian since the first day he came to the neighborhood, about six months ago. It was his fault; he had such magnetism it was criminal. He lived opposite her, and she had caught many precious glimpses of him doing this or that. Tableaux of Julian, she called them.

Julian didn’t know she existed, and that had to change. Speaking to him was out of the question, though. She would blush; the very thought made her feel a hot flash. She had to find a way to be seen and remain unseen at the same time. She locked herself in the house…

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