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slipping inside the
choking on the
chemical sp ill
gnarled beak &
why pitted teeth
cratered stars but the
all the dreams from
Primevaland I don't smoke, but all my poems talk
of cigarettes and ashes because my father smoked
for forty years and now he can't breathe
and I can't breathe.
the chill from the rain seeps through the glass panes
and feels swollen in the loneliness of a crowded train;
the air is pregnant with an umbilical thread
connecting us to something intangible,
something necessary to our being
yet we don't exist at all.
smoke and vapor crawling out our mouths;
we talk because the silence is sometimes frightening,
and because we're searching the dust visible only
in the places where light bends for words that won't disappear
in the morning.
cradled like a baby. the entire universe existing
within the meaning of a single syllable;
a sound make the strings of existence
but there's nothing between m
This is how much a body weighsThis is how much a body weighs. Measure in space allowed, not volume. There, in the culmination of an I—it does not exist. Within the idiosyncrasies of a gender, the I is stripped of its identity, and the space it occupies becomes constricting. Let me say: I am not a mutually exclusive being. The weight of my breasts is small only when I’m alone. Shifting fragments, a tectonic wholeness. The curve of a body lying in bed. My tongue arching as I mouth words to the silent dark. Here, in the balance between my teeth, the I is formed. It does not cling fixedly to any body. A weightlessness, perhaps,
too heavy for this world.
Elyssami Faith and Mykelti Noah (TRIGGER)When my first pregnancy occured, I was 13 years old and terrified. This baby had not come about consensually and I didn't have a clue what to do about it all. I'm ashamed to say I hated and resented the baby growing inside me because I was so afraid. I believed/felt that the baby was a boy, but I didn't care to name him. Out of fear and hope, I told my father I was pregnant, knowing what he'd do. My father arranged things, and in a horrific ceremony, my son died. The whole thing was so traumatic that I repressed it all for many years. When it returned, I began to sort through my emotions and experiences. I named my son Mykelti Noah. His first name is an African name meaning close to God, and Noah traditionally means peace or comfort. Together, I interpret his name as "at peace with God", which gives me comfort. Although I recognise that I could not have given him a safe family life, I still grieve his loss and have come to love the innocent baby he could have been.
In the meantime, I g
selling myself (resume)Once the nerves are swallowed,
I'll bring you reasonable
public speaking skill
with only a little encouragement.
Speed reader, nit-picky editor--
will find your typos and point
your eyes to grammatics
(your 'yore' and your 'you're' won't sneak past
these eager eyes).
Art director, nursemaid and teacher,
I can juggle children with paperwork
and wrangle a smile from a small girl
dressed in photo finery, or a laugh
from a toddler: mid-tantrum.
I can scrunch up small and slip
beneath the folds of a suitcase;
or stretch out my muscles
to imitate the giraffe
whose burnt-purple tongue
reaches into his nostrils.
I'm sure you'll agree--
this is a talent you cannot pass up.
My dedication will turn competitors
to rainforests, crawling with envy
they will slide beneath your success.
I will bring a thrum of life,
cheer the darker days and twist
until I am wringing out sunshine.
I'm walking chaos
but my absence leaves a gap
you'll notice later.
TickI search your cells with tiny fingers,
split hairs in a ravenous fashion.
Distinctive as a freckle or a mole,
I move with you—I drink of you.
When the time is right, pluck me away,
set me aflame, or drown me in alcohol.
there are chicken necks under the bedtoo tired to move--
not even my eyelids creak open
i let my nostrils
be my eyes, close my ears
and run my tongue round
'til i taste only my teeth:
something sleeps heavy
beneath the bed, its fetid
clinging to molecules and
staining the air. death
is a returning burden,
an unwanted boomerang,
but it doesn't lie and
it smells fresher
nightmares are birthed
in buried bones
and fed on monsters
we've already met.
Ulurudelivered from bygone sands
and shifted forth with
myth and lore
--a dreamtime swallowed
into a culture birthed in
(tales of giant tiddilik the frog,
drinking dry an ocean; or
the people spearing
a blasted 'roo, the way
he earned himself
a consciousness of soil
indelible as sun burnt into skin;
this land is swept along in the winds,
thrust into caverns and
echoed along the plains
building monuments and
tearing down the ache
between the remmebered
and the forgotten.
uluru bleeds memories,
and reddened dirt, and summer thirst.
Vanguard, Chapter 1: DuncanDuncan's Journal: Day 1288
I consider myself a good man. I respect women, elders, my equals, and the dead. I say a morning prayer, and an evening one. Hell, I even thank the gods for a meal, instead of immediately chowing down in the voracious manner as the other soldiers here do. By all logical means, I should be in paradise. No really, not just because I'm a good man, but also because I should be dead by now. So I ask myself: why, oh gods up there, have I ended up in hell?
1288 days. 1288 days of my life have been spent in this misery, and I'm beginning to lose faith in the glory I was promised. Some of the rookies still live in their ignorant bliss, but I've lived long enough to realize that there's not much glory to find here. “Sing the songs of glory and march into battle—-join The Crusade today!”. Such were the words of the posters The Crusade has spread all over The Mortal Realm. Gullible fools practically stand in line for these songs of glory that th
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More