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Going Back AgainThe wafting scent of my cigar fills the room,
reminding me of that cheap motel in Chincoteague.
But it was a happy memory.
When you are a child, you clutch the opportunities.
Frisk my scent and shortcomings
For all to see
But fill me with freedom,
watch my metamorphoses
into something ill defined...again.
And I know no end.
And I know no beginning.
And this is my malediction.
Well, one of them.
Vices come and go,
and none have the answers,
but I engage them with fervor.
so it goes.
The ForgettingMedical myth and legend.
I buy it.
What happened to the fire, now coals, burning without the heat?
I remember, and I am weary with the forgetting.
Why did you bring your monster here?
It is grotesque and lurks overhead.
No light to escape, flurry from the flame.
As freedom comes into focus,
I am scared and wanton.
Your voice floats in the hall,
finally finding a resting place in the corners of my mind.
The phone rings, I jump.
Pardon my distraction, I know not what I do.
Well, that's a lie. But I can't help it.
In my mind's eye, I am blind.
Unhappy MarriageMy existence
Unfathomable and wanting
I once saw Spring in your eyes.
The banister has been left cold
No jacket to warm it
Shades of our Winter
I catch the suit
Hanging empty in the closet
As I used to I
I'll take your emotional property
To my grave
We've been reduced to pens & Post-it notes
& hollow phone calls where your voice
was once golden.
Wreck-StenchedWreck-stenched of foul mouth
Freedom of snakes, wrapping around my folly
I seek you, but you are self-worthy
Sitting atop your hills of dust and current
I wait in the stream
I dance from the storm
But I am alone.
What is the purpose of this life spent down?
I need your comfort
But there are other, more important things.
I'm not one of them.
Modern-Day LazarusModern-Day Lazarus
Like a modern-day Lazarus
Needing prophesy for rotting flesh
They need resurrection from living death.
Worshiping false idols was never my thing.
We all have those things
who put the death in us.
And we all lament that we "aren't what we used to be",
even if that just means we'd like to get back to our high school
Who wants to be what we used to be, anyway.
Then we'd never grow.
And as it's been said, "pain is the touchstone to spiritual
so some are very spiritual.
A seat in church is like their holy anchor.
Desperately clinging to the next nugget of hope,
wanting the effects of the God-potion to carry them through
Free them from their beasts of bondage, nurture the bite
Looking for their spiritual ointment, healing wounds.
They think that only god can free the tethered rose.
Coldness licks the furnace
I fall into sky
Remembering the downtrodden myself
as the words cascade down my river.
It's familiar, that silence in the car
drowning out the curves of my failings
Shelter from the heat, following the chill
of my icy stare
and frostbitten hands
What wills you,
What stake has pierced your eyes?
The coming always comes
to rifle through my memory
and remember the distance of a falling rose.
Times of triumph,
Times of worry,
Times of spitting hunger
And I forget to remind myself
of the haunting
And I forget to remember
And I watch as your words
flutter through your fingertips
And I wonder how I got back here.
I see you there,
straining to find
anything in the dead garden.
Where weeping resides,
where fire and flames
lick the surface of my unveiling.
Not too hard to cry,
but yet to stifle the piercing
gaze of time not spent.
Flowing down rivers
of questions never asked
because they were already answered.
You were not my answer,
you were a riddle in a boring game.
Tired and broken, sick with
shelter, dying on the vine.
You wither and slither
around a halo with pure venom
You ruin everything you taste.
Restrain MeRestrain Me
find my core
I will bite
claw and scratch
just to light the match
Back into me
you are the door
friends for a moment
then snap me like a tree
that has fallen inside of me
I am not lying
aren't we all trying to avoid
It doesn't seem real
my head circles
the swarm of bees
forever in blue
it's my skin falling into you
We all flow into the river
we all turn to dust
we all are shattered
needs and endless fright
trying to win with our own might
Look at me
and don't look back
I know who you are
you are a slippery eel
and I know how you lie to feel
go on and take me
I'm just who I am lately.
Watery ShadowI'm doin' the ole'
Afternoon puff-puff/move the car routine
My new thing
Taking carcinogens in,
Chasing a new habit
And other ways to remove, reflect
Tell myself I'm
Even though I
Destruct at will
At fleeting thought
Reveling in my pain
My weary comfort
A familiar face
A drone, cog in the wheel
Invades my space momentarily
I feel my every day annoyance at the human race escalate
Until the engine,
Awakened from its slumber to move to another dwelling,
Until it's out of sight
My sense of entitlement
Without fences to trap it
My old therapist
Adding that to her list of feelings
Prompted by exposure to me
Thoughts work their way,
Forward and backward
Wherever the pain is
At least now I
Sometimes wish to stop it
I was there,
A heap of flesh
No bones, leaving me
The day she walked out
A watery shadow
and claiming it belonged to me,
Though I had separated it fro
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
I willI will love you
all the way to the place where ladybirds go to die,
to the lushest corners of the earth
that hold the secrets no man was meant to see
and we will find them, and know them together.
I will love you
all the way to the place where bubbles are made
at the bottom of a glass of cider
that blisters the glass with condensation
as we trade hats and laugh at the way the air smiles.
I will love you
all the way inside a branch where buds dream of Becoming,
where those one-day-flowers stir wooden hearts
into an uprising, into a blossoming life
and we will plant our ambitions there, in the blooming place.
I will love you
all the way to the square brackets that hold our boxes
because you are my best friends, and you will be
as we fold papery hands around paper-cut wrists and cry
and mourn eighty-odd years flown by too fast. Even then.
Even then, I will love you still.
I've ForgottenWhen she died
I tied a knot in my stomach
so I would remember
but I've been so busy
trying to remember her dying
I forgot how to forget.
how to let go -
and the doctors said
they would cut me open
and snip her out
a blade between the bows
and the pain, would be gone
but I've forgotten
how to let go -
and I still don't want to.
love didn't matter, but home was with youi.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebushes that
were too stained to be called
me that sometimes
love doesn't matter, and
i (did)n't want to
you asked me once if anything
mattered, a lighter
gracing one hand and a
cigarette lining your
lips. i wasn't
sure back then
and i don't know
if i am now
(but i think i want to say yes).
my body never felt
unarticulatedtonight I ask myself:
where are you going with all these names
in your pockets? syllables that taste
unauthentic in the desperate American
repression is a series of images
earthbound angels breathing
flame, starving hands speaking
in tongues, glazed eyes
asking are you fucking okay
pale skin becoming moonlight,
reflecting and refracting and
the quiet understatement
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
Diamond TearIn silence
I observe them
Laughing and having fun
While I'm in my corner
I feel out of place
I don't belong here
So I leave
And no one notices
Now I'm out on the street
A dark and silent one
Enjoying the breeze
Lost in my thoughts
Suddenly I hear a sob
And I look around
I see a girl
Sitting on a bench
A single diamond tear
Running down her face
I don't know her
No one else is around
I could just leave
But I can't
So I sit by her side and ask
Without looking her in the eyes
For a moment
And then she takes my hand
And we look
Into each other's eyes
And she whispers
Oxtails (Collab w/ TwilightPoetess)Somewhere between oxen and orchid,
where cattails and foxgloves wilt and weep
at the parting of another fleeing day
and stormed cloud-castles mutiny
against the weight of the rocksalt moon;
somewhere between flightless and fading,
where faery circles and dandelion crowns fall--
somewhere, beneath bark mosaiced with age,
you will siphon the remains of my heart--
churned smooth by false hope’s abuse--
into dehydrated dirt that groans for it.
I will clot the crumbling veins of anthills
with the iron debris that was once us,
until I become orchid or foxglove once more.
Night Flash.Another night flash.
My desire is ineffable.
You are the sound.
It is a distant planet, and I am dizzy from the heat.
Falling underground, seeking a shroud for the remains of my dignity.
I feel your softness, and it sends me alive, to your throne.
Because I know your silence.
I am meek but whole if only for an instant.
Of course I would crumble. But that is me.
Your house of cards, waiting for the inevitable windfall.
You become just a voice, just a farce in the moonlight.
I can't pretend anymore.
Your secrets are safe with me.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More