Living Poets Society - Hello Poetry

Jan 2021

Third Eye Candy

You have too much Stephen King in your knapsack in Dunley.
And something that looks like homework half done
and the bus driver smells like a snowstorm
with polyester eyes focused on your next prison.
king of yellow promises with black stripes.
And the school across town has loose girls with cooties
but they teach you how to kiss and everything’s jake.
You have time on your hands like a **** on a gripe.
And 46 butterflies know your name by heart

because collecting them
was science.

Jan 2021

Eshwara Prasad

Untitled

Remembering rains evokes
memories of my efforts to
stop it from overwhelming me
with a broken umbrella.

Jan 2021

Third Eye Candy

a grand gesture in a modest vacuum is still a pointless enterprise

a dandelion with a crown. the sun.
it hovers in the up above
suspended in perpetual expanse
the darling of our prayers
anointing our cavernous dark
with unprecedented
sprites.

the way it’s glory is removed
is intoxicating in the least paroxysm
of our motionless spasms of inertia.
the way it hangs ‘ore pavilions
twilit on blast in the void
summing our notions
of an opposite happy
with a subtraction
of an actual
fulfillment.

we rise to the occasion with our wits
floundering in the spoils of dead logic
rebuffed by impractical magics-
as savage as a plume
of empirical evidence
that Nothing
Happened.

we dawn as the sinking
extravagance of our ascent
implodes.

ginning the loop of so many delusions
it’s a promise we might be Human
After All.

Jan 2021

Third Eye Candy

“ Your House Isn’t Haunted. You’re Lonely.”

It’s 4 AM and your skin is soft birch and your pillow indented.
You fume with stillness where your sleep is deep
And almost nothing is as pure as your inner
panorama of noise
Surging uncorked in millennia, as broad as Time’s banquet
Knocking the arrow of sweet slumber
To describe the arc of a falling star
into an open mind.

When you awake, she’s gone. At first you ponder, incredulous.
Then the Season descends it’s tendrils of departure
to ****** your precarious peace from its perch
like rolling thunder over a gasp.
your bed of fails, expansive in the dim pinch
of not enough morning.
just before the sun has mocked your reveries
into the nook of your crevasse
of miseries.

as her ghost kisses
your cheek.

Jan 2021

Third Eye Candy

La Douleur Exquise

when you stay, i assume that god has a plan
and she knows your name.
when you leave, i resume my urchin joy-
delirious with yearning on boil.
i applaud the next day
as you descend to me
unadorned
to disavow my lonely
with your passionate
Heresies to thwart the gospels
of my Doubt.

the way you always do
when you
sublime.

Jan 2021

Third Eye Candy

I USED TO READ BOOKS

my hand on your hip like a golden fleece
humming jurisdiction and swaying
to the rhythm of your gate-
too proud to wallflower.
my palm-
where the heat of you
commands my grasp,
and nothing is
so keen
as the thought of our
next encounter
with a private
moment
unmoored from harbingers
of impending
isolation.
stuck to the forefront
of an absolute
ravishing.

whirling the dervish plums
of our plucky
resurrections
to stammer free of our bonds
into happier
*******.

thoroughly
in love
where out love
is In.

and no wonder.

Jan 2021

Third Eye Candy

With You On The Other Side

when i need my glasses to find my glasses it’s hilarious
and i have you to laugh with me, with eyes doing cartwheels
holding my vulnerables in your risk-averse, soothing the calamity
of my ambitions with the verity of your love.
i yield the floor to your silent declaration that you will devour me-
come evening… and i serve at the pleasure of your chaste lust
devoted to our collisions, like a pigeon with a thing for windows
with you on the other side.

Jan 2021

Third Eye Candy

Hate Is Not Theater, But We Know Our Lines

Hate is not Theater. But we Know our lines.
Baleful mongers squandering Grace at the behest
Of an Ungrateful Fiction, with Irony’s Teeth
And Doll’s Eyes glaring at the Puppet Master’s strings
To stitch an Excuse to an Impulse
With ancestor hands, chafed by grim and bloodstain
Like windows with dead eyes, locked on a sunset
To best glean the contours
of a Sunrise

At the scene of our every crime.

We know History will not Lie, but our Bibles might…
So we amend our Treaties to serve
The demon at hand. The one that we know.
Slouching quazi-cognizant
In all Splendor, War-Minded and About It.
The Way we lose Our Way
Never Trivial.

The Way We Lose Our Minds

Classic.

Jan 2021

Third Eye Candy

Love Is The Day Your Doom Is On Pause

Love is the day your doom is on pause and all gods pray
with tiny hands that nothing harms your everything, and an answer-
swiftly bugaboos the blunder of your courtship
on a righteous sea
where bountiful waves of redemption and wet kisses
cling to the mist in her eyes
like blue snow

Your Humanity
an Unmangled candelabra of astonishing affection
drenched in slow hands that caress the very fabric
of your Universe
with an uproar as glorious as calm in a storm
where a squall should be.

As you ascend into the arms of an open Heart.
Where Two should Be.

Jan 2021

Lilibet

It’s All Made Up

It’s all meaningless.
It’s all made up.
It’s not reality.
Whichever thoughts and feelings you choose,
Positive
Negative
Fear
Love
None of it is real,
Because you can change it in an instant,
But we make it so,
So choose wisely
For your path will be
More or less smooth, and
Yours and others’ journeys
Easier or more painful to bear
Depending on which you select,
So why not enjoy the ride

#choice

Jan 2021

rose hopkins

Late December moon

I look through fingers of light
And feathers of ice
In the milky glow
Of a full moon
In a cloudless,starlit sky.
I can see for miles at midnight
As the midwinter frost
Settles on the land.