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Literature
the red room
1
over the yawning roll of centuries
men scrutinized, measured, declared, and
championed
cubits, tangents, and hemispherical
planes
in a fevered quest to gain ancient wisdom
yet the Old World, that storied Ancien Regime
did not suffer fools lightly
or did our ancestors presume to declassify
ghosts
to usurp aether itself
wound among chambers holding communion with stars,
dust, darkness, silence    
as thousands of seasons passed by
2
yet
the ancient academics
overlooked, yea, failed to consider
how miles roll away as time
how traveling the same trodden paths
resembles the tides
3
shifting, falling
curtains of dusk-
quietly implacable,
openly shut,
weighty and ephemeral
death is ultimately anti-climatic;
credits roll on a giant western
drive-in screen  
as shadows draw their six-shooters
to punch holes in cloud banks
those drifting repositories of dreams
4
I recently saw a place
first glimpsed in a dream
the Red Room
in the far northern reaches of
Lake Superior
it stood th
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Literature
beware of she who lives in the woods
twirling and whirling
delirious evenings
tulips petals  fall from her pale lips
ivy bursts through her rib cage
the seed was planted in her heart
when she was a lonely child
exploring the woods
sweet vapours curl through her hair
and moonlight slowly drips through her veins
she beckons to them,
the reckless and the brave
deep into the woods
and yet they come
after all their mothers warnings
she whispers of victories
they have yet to behold
and addictions that will
take hold of their hearts
in a dark fist
As she covers their eyes
with her rose bud hands
she turns their hearts to ice
just like hers,
her poppies standing tall
swaying gently in the wind
waiting for her call to strike
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lon3wolf, Life Quote by lon3wolfofficial lon3wolf, Life Quote :iconlon3wolfofficial:lon3wolfofficial 1 0
Literature
The Shape
You want to eat me whole
but I am smoke
and all you taste is ash.
These mirror tricks confuse you,
show you a person
(of sorts) -
but I am not there.
I never was.
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Blaire by huntermarch Blaire :iconhuntermarch:huntermarch 2 0
Literature
Into a Mouth of Metal
Cecil, Essential.
Industry! Ever expanding
Growing ever greater
As Cecil rubs his hands, planning
Hair once red, now turned ghostly white
Nothing, not fate or
The law will stop his plans tonight
   The sun still rising
   He can see the rooftop tiles shining purple
   His role now self-reprising
   This should be no trouble
   Down a staircase in his hilltop home Cecil descends
   Sentiment is not enterprising
   From his cloud, to the deep end
   What he finds is not surprising
   Debauchery and poverty
   Hope across the street from despair
   The road smells like piss and vermin
   Ah, but Cecil doesn’t care
   As his walking cane clops down
   He knows the state we’re in
   And greets it with an ambitious stare
   Hungry, like a rat
   Cecil strolls through the streets like a king among shit
 
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Brush Strokes by binaryburton Brush Strokes :iconbinaryburton:binaryburton 1 0
Literature
Is This What You Wanted?
Deep within the forest where myths abound
Lies old shrines full of promises,
Emotions tickled by wisps and
A shadow that snakes through the ancient trees. 
Wayward souls with nowhere else to go
Turn to old tales out of desperation.
Beseeching guidance in their life’s storm
They do not rightly know the consequences of what they seek. 
A haunting silence waits for those who are lost,
Its shadow in relentless pursuit of forlorn souls.
Reality bleeds into fantasy and darkness,
When light shines once again they are alone…
Different…
Transformed…
                 
A brand new life that cannot return to the old.
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Literature
Patterns
She manipulated yarn
With a long hook
But she was an outcast among them
She couldn’t wrap her head around
What they could and so
She avoided what they used
Growing to hate them
They read like calculus and algebra
One she never learned and one she hardly used
Especially not together
She hated the suggestion
The suggestion to use them
Anything related to that suggestion
Triggered rage of some level or another
The craft she enjoyed
But the suggestions she hated
Considering them bad advice
Of course, she couldn’t crochet ornately
Yet the others could
Only because they could use what
She couldn’t use
The thing she grew to hate
The thing she could never master
The thing that triggered her rage
Crochet patterns.
:iconAkaiChounokoe:AkaiChounokoe
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Literature
Sigo aqui
Hey

Esto está dedicado a la gente que ha creído en mí desde el principio
A todos
Está dedicado para incondicionales que van a mis conciertos
Gracias por estar ahí y apoyarme
Para todos, gracias por estar ahí, sí
(Fuufu metas)
Doy gracias a mi gente por entender
Que nunca hice esta mierda por vender
Siempre tuve algo por lo que luchar
Y si no lo tuve, lo pude inventar
Surgimos de la nada y no teníamos ná
Un lápiz, un papel y ganas de rapear
Hoy, esos bocazas no paran de hablar
Y yo he dao más conciertos que ellos sin cobrar
Nos han tomao el pelo por pecar de humildad
Nos han tachao de raros por no sonar rap
Nos han criticao por nuestra versatilidad
Pero a nosotros nadie nos ha dao ná
Nos hemos recorrido España de aquí a allá
Hemos hecho colegas en cualquier lugar
Hemos apoyao el panorama nacional
Pero a nosotros nadie nos ha dao ná
Porque el camino está lleno de piedras
Pero es el camino a segui
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My blog by yukichans8p5l My blog :iconyukichans8p5l:yukichans8p5l 0 0
Literature
Death
There is hope
in death.
I.
My bond with death
never died
he tried to kill me so many times;
lock me away, hush me silent forever
stifle me with your ivory soul
poison me with your allelopathic venom
drown me in your mental chloroform
(you cannot fool me, i know it's mercy)

- but death was my friend
i survived.
I learnt to pray:
there is hope
in death,
there is hope,
in stillness.
II. And still I was
too scared not to startle
death away
decay
dripped slowly from the ceiling
black fungi
will leave me whole
fill the hole in me
i was born there
in darkness
there is hope
in death
i pray
my bond with her on its deathsbed
i should be shedding tears, but i
turn vulture instead;
circling around her
slowly
like the blood
that's almost frozen in my veins
my bond with her
so pale
i fade away
dry
my black wings
are taking me to you
the light is always on
in your (chat) window
there is hope in death;
i hope
death has guts
to sever my chains;
III.
My bond with you
once burried in the ground
no
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Literature
Sail Bold (10/08/2018)
As the night grew cold
their hearts grew bold, so they did
sing until the morn
Not knowing that the
very next day, their ship would
be lost in a storm.
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Transformer un tressage plat 2x3 en baderne 3x4 by O-rigamist Transformer un tressage plat 2x3 en baderne 3x4 :icono-rigamist:O-rigamist 0 0
Literature
a mass of meaningless text
On the plane of many hives over the top alive and kicking woo! Would stifle again.  This was the best one ever into State College from outside State College through the night and the cold arrived.  Ultra ultra convenient with downtown downtown,  favorite meat. Families are sleeping and sleeping and sleeping and sleeeeping in the abyss. I have walked a drooling path for this region for fourteen stone. The bed and specifically the bed and specifically the bed was made of lovely, crisp blue hydrogen. Some keys a meandering menace was the wolf wildlife train not in fear. The toucan-men are being feasted on, how opaque. If string could come out of your fingers then what. Bodily feelings are for the opaque. Words all over the wall, no room for the eyes. The void has the eyes, yes the eyes. Touches remember your mind. The nature is hanging. Plug the tree, yank it. The camel waits for your sacrifice. Jokes and blood. Wild rats looking at my dick all the time. Fuck. Scratch and d
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Literature
Selves
I have had time to sit with myself
to learn that it's not my skin I'm uncomfortable in
it's the whole skeleton
something about this fit is incorrect
I can never change it:
will go to my grave just slightly off-kilter
until that time comes
What a thing to learn.
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Literature
consume
Those who let themselves allocate the directions of their dreams
to an abyss from assumption….
Who allowed, let themselves be consumed
this cannot be called a form of being eaten
only looking like that from the outset….
this is feeding, as only a broken legged fool of a foal
that knew no other way to walk can only accomplish
If one wanders the line
tackling the bait….
then gives me the tears and but whys
what else can you expect?
Faultly, salty tears
of those who believed
when they could have been relieved
of such ugly results
had they not irrationally prayed
which paved the way for the fleeting
before the sleeted heart….
Are you a thinker?
Are you a leaper
putting faith in false dreams
feeding something on assumption
only thinking
that you were the one
who could call yourself the eaten?
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Literature
Awaken
Hopeful we blossom
Like the many flowers of dawn
Rise to meet the sun
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Literature
Graffiti
Art that is
Raw,
obscene,
silly.
Insisting
on existing in a place
where it has no right to be.
Wondering
how it came to be.
Amazed
it still is.
Splashed criminally
against the harsh industrial steel
of the frieght train.
Refusing
to accept its beauty
because it doesn't fit
THEIR definition of beauty.
Hiding
in the dark places
where it isn't safe to go
Begging you
to find it.
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Literature
Getting Older
This roller coaster
has already reached the top;
time for the freefall.
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