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Cosmic kraken,
gelatinous tentacles that choke the ventricles..
air tainted by its pungent pores...
daylight darkens,
its presence hearkens,
for the light to shine no more...

Heart is hardened
vestigial veins with not blood but pain...
wrinkled cartilage writhes at lore..
of the divine despair
I now come to bear,
graces this unworthy *****...

"I beg I pardon!
spare me the road to your celestial abode!"...
whispered screams that scrape throat raw...
silence snares...
at my futile affairs...
with the sadistic nexus between doors...

"Oh I cannot fathom
creature with unworldly features...
and blade fashioned from nebulous ore...
what terrors await...
and to permeate....
my flesh forevermore!"
Sometimes I feel this way about my parents....
yvan sanchez Sep 2018
the moonlight is pouring into my room
it vanishes—i weep,
a bloodborne obsession
the moonlight is pouring into my room
it bathes me—i weep,
cool wind aches my skin—

Paradise, 2018
Light flanks the snowbanks
my memory thanks the simple soundscapes
of textures closing in
as walls and ceilings
and snow and sleet

We can blame the weather
but we'll be here forever
cursing ourselves
mid-stride

Stopping motion
mid-explosion

a simple thank you from the
particles we've denied

All things moving outward

The molten core of earth
Our mother

Chaos empty space
Our father


     Standing, surrendering.
        The weather tethers at my veins.
     Pushing.   Pulling.
             My emotions run high with the hopes of a new sunrise.

     Guide me,
          show me,
                 lead me to the holy water you sip like its never ending.
     Show me the truth behind every iris that passes my curious glance.
          Breathe in this cold sterile air while we dream of something tangible...

     Strange winds come on strong in the heart of the mislead, the outskirts.
                We thrive on the untouched surfaces of the mind..
           We breathe in the discomfort...



This is the nothing substance
I'm looking for

Seeking ever leaking truth
of faucet water too heavy

Minerals come to life
and return to the ground
in the instant of
midair waterfall

Weightless feeling fateless
determining the future
on solid ground grasses
fishing baitless

naked sameness

emotion

motion

ion

on


     Seeking direction in the wake of misdirected affection.
                                                     Faulting to the backbone of habits.

     Falling faster, I pause in the balance catching my breathe.
                                         I inhale everything surrounding my mind.
                         Exhaling all my simple poisons.
     A detox of wandering souls and singular holes.
     Eating.    Feeding.    Breeding.
             Filling all this space for all those after me.

     Fill me.
        Fulfill me.
     Accept the darkest crevasses of this mind.
                                                  I still turn a silent shy cheek...



Sea oh double
em oh en

Common ground
from the firmament I send

Confusion permanent
in an ocean

Oh see an end

Painless drifting aimless
seeking searching
for the seam
into which this world
is born

The lifeseeking thread that never ends

The bloodborne
pathogen

Of caring void
and emptiness

Caress you like a stone

Forever there

In the loveliness
of human hair

Saying, I was there

When emotion became
the firm ground
never sinking

Thinking of the way out
but never escaping

Mountains around
an ever growing feeling


     Drifting aimlessly into the empty serenity you present so pleasantly.
              Once again I slide further from comfort and balance...
                     Feeding off any sense of insecurity.
                            Craving that whole duality of my circumstance...

           I keep treading the muddy waters I choose.
     My body gets trapped in the
                                     sticky egos and messing misunderstandings,
                                                                                         in which everyone laughs away.

     I'll schlep the dirt from my soul and shine light once more.
            Exhausted and tried.

                                      Ill shine...



Your light
is not lost to
my dilated eyes


     It's lost in my own lost hope of withering dreams and lost star seeds.
            It falls away in every cold shake I make within whiskey's withdrawal.
                 It fades away in the simple staggers I make and unfulfilled chances I take.

     But, not all is lost.

     I still keep this little light of mine.
     I still let this light shine.

     I'm just a little more aware of the spaces it awakens and the souls it helps take in.
  
          It's ever shifting in this cosmic wake, it hides, it shies, it cries.
                    Like me, it knows when to pipe the **** down and listen to the world.
        Listen to everything it allows.

     It hears souls like you.
                                 It feeds me.



Feedback,
I've got my need back

Shaking like a lovesick
fiend

On every letter of your speech

I'll filter this wormhole
off kilter
into every relationship
in front of my eyes

Until we meet again,

I won't stop telling stories
of jackals speaking english

To fetch our sweet meat
from top shelves
and ruins

Blue and bruised
flesh alludes
to stories unspoken

and broken glass
dreams of unity

Bottle falls

Slow motion

It all seems
like a dream
in endless blue
love tokens
"It's how we communicate."
Amanda Blomquist Apr 2013
Dustin
     Amanda

Light flanks the snowbanks
my memory thanks the simple soundscapes
of textures closing in
as walls and ceilings
and snow and sleet

We can blame the weather
but we'll be here forever
cursing ourselves
mid-stride

Stopping motion
mid-explosion

a simple thank you from the
particles we've denied

All things moving outward

The molten core of earth
Our mother

Chaos empty space
Our father


     Standing, surrendering.
        The weather tethers at my veins.
     Pushing.   Pulling.
             My emotions run high with the hopes of a new sunrise.

     Guide me,
          show me,
                 lead me to the holy water you sip like its never ending.
     Show me the truth behind every iris that passes my curious glance.
          Breathe in this cold sterile air while we dream of something tangible...

     Strange winds come on strong in the heart of the mislead, the outskirts.
                We thrive on the untouched surfaces of the mind..
           We breathe in the discomfort...



This is the nothing substance
I'm looking for

Seeking ever leaking truth
of faucet water too heavy

Minerals come to life
and return to the ground
in the instant of
midair waterfall

Weightless feeling fateless
determining the future
on solid ground grasses
fishing baitless

naked sameness

emotion

motion

ion

on


     Seeking direction in the wake of misdirected affection.
                                                     Faulting to the backbone of habits.

     Falling faster, I pause in the balance catching my breathe.
                                         I inhale everything surrounding my mind.
                         Exhaling all my simple poisons.
     A detox of wandering souls and singular holes.
     Eating.    Feeding.    Breeding.
             Filling all this space for all those after me.

     Fill me.
        Fulfill me.
     Accept the darkest crevasses of this mind.
                                                  I still turn a silent shy cheek...



Sea oh double
em oh en

Common ground
from the firmament I send

Confusion permanent
in an ocean

Oh see an end

Painless drifting aimless
seeking searching
for the seam
into which this world
is born

The lifeseeking thread that never ends

The bloodborne
pathogen

Of caring void
and emptiness

Caress you like a stone

Forever there

In the loveliness
of human hair

Saying, I was there

When emotion became
the firm ground
never sinking

Thinking of the way out
but never escaping

Mountains around
an ever growing feeling


     Drifting aimlessly into the empty serenity you present so pleasantly.
              Once again I slide further from comfort and balance...
                     Feeding off any sense of insecurity.
                            Craving that whole duality of my circumstance...

           I keep treading the muddy waters I choose.
     My body gets trapped in the
                                     sticky egos and messing misunderstandings,
                                                                                         in which everyone laughs away.

     I'll schlep the dirt from my soul and shine light once more.
            Exhausted and tried.

                                      Ill shine...



Your light
is not lost to
my dilated eyes


     It's lost in my own lost hope of withering dreams and lost star seeds.
            It falls away in every cold shake I make within whiskey's withdrawal.
                 It fades away in the simple staggers I make and unfulfilled chances I take.

     But, not all is lost.

     I still keep this little light of mine.
     I still let this light shine.

     I'm just a little more aware of the spaces it awakens and the souls it helps take in.
   
          It's ever shifting in this cosmic wake, it hides, it shies, it cries.
                    Like me, it knows when to pipe the **** down and listen to the world.
        Listen to everything it allows.

     It hears souls like you.
                                 It feeds me.



Feedback,
I've got my need back

Shaking like a lovesick
fiend

On every letter of your speech

I'll filter this wormhole
off kilter
into every relationship
in front of my eyes

Until we meet again,

I won't stop telling stories
of jackals speaking english

To fetch our sweet meat
from top shelves
and ruins

Blue and bruised
flesh alludes
to stories unspoken

and broken glass
dreams of unity

Bottle falls

Slow motion

It all seems
like a dream
in endless blue
love tokens
This is a texting duet between me and Dustin at 3AM, its how we communicate.
n stiles carmona Dec 2017
This diet of dirt erodes my teeth.
Perhaps I'm rotting for shock value
-- flashes of cameras --
a bloodborne shortcut to heaven.

I succumb to death a patriot:
red and white and asphyxia blue.
(We can't all drown like maidens.)

You smile and loosen your grip on my throat
to gnaw at and pick the flesh clean off my bones.
Ike Nov 2019
It's like... yeah! I'm ok! Obviously!
As if they expected you to say anything else?
Have you tried saying anything else?
Good luck with that.

Yes darling.  I am ok.
Everything is fine.
No I don't want to talk about my deranged nightmares
No it had nothing to do with you
Don't be sorry
No you can't do anything to help
It's not your fault

I'm sorry my dreams are too insane for everyone
Bloodbath bloodborne star struck endless pits of eternity?
Every time your heart stopped in sheer terror?
On repeat until you sweat yourself awake?
Or wake up in the livingroom?
The best part was this very thing happening all night after writing it lol.
Larry Potter Mar 2022
The hooves graced the stage
And we artlessly digress
Like a bed of scorpions
Beneath turned stones
Unhinged and entranced
By the dance of flesh and bones.
Stings tremble with anticipation
Cowardly poised to poison  
Perfecting pretense for defense
All scrambling for impunity
Among misbegotten virtues
And self-serving fidelities.
The vassals to a bloodborne crown
Trade nations for silken sheets
Hoping that the toast of upheaval
Could fill the hungry beast
But the glass refills another round
For a charade of witless relief.
Johnny Noiπ Nov 2018
Or recently appeared in a Chinese song. Mohammed Mohammed (AP); Dental Vesper Marcus Sheen is trying to gain access to old teeth, age, air, air travelers, Gypsy messengers of Bordeaux; Dave Black, the world can do so much - the very expensive White City is small. Life is good for a 5 foot red girl. More flowers for higher Cicero, United States's skin alliance is a big blue head. Bloodshed, South Africa, South Yoshi Shiva Volleyball, England and Old Gold Edge Stores are English, colorful, old hand movements and their notorious science. A free diet is gold; All the helpful printed and holy instruments, the net, the Holy Lord, the Father. Obviously, for writing a song | Stone writes a Russian grapes dance album in which the eastern black rope has suddenly been saved, and his mother Paul is listening to the computer synchronizing his family of dreams and the gods of natural sounds. Severe pain, love, love, ***, *** and love. This is the woman who lives on her watch, she is a very young woman in Valencia. A Chinese camp song came up at the Brazilian stadium to show the way to the monument; Prophet Mohammed (AP) Dentist Marcus magic, Old Dental, age, air, air traveler, Bodo Gypsy's angel is very expensive. The girl from a white city is running 5 feet of red hair. High female ancestry, United States of America, South Africa, South Africa, South Africa, United States, hand movement and science science science is a free dose of gold; Tool, Trap, Holy Lord, Father. Obviously, for writing a song | He travels to his family The aim of modern marketers is to start with six principles. In girls' dance, love, love, ***, *** and love, girl in room and beauty drinks in the world, competition for air with her, her voice and a pair of gloves, new and new future consumer's ***, Shocking and glowing youngsters ice cream ice cream in front of a child and a woman in dance and Valencia, while showing Italian balloons from Laura, Germany and Ice, knee joint gout is the name of the friends down syndrome. And the speed of this growing season and Santa will be great in the growing season of the unbelievable Clark and six children want to read a well-organized grandfather's book, who have radio rights; have a great lunch in the afternoon of Brazilian stadium's English-speakers now, this type is invisibility with the bride and death has recently appeared in a Chinese song. Muhammad Mohammed (AP) Dental Vessel Marcus Sheen is trying to reach the old teeth, age, air, air passengers, Gypsy messenger Bordo Dave Black, the world can make it - the very expensive White City is a small life. More flowers for a young girl's children in 5-foot red, the United States's skin alliance, is a big blue head in the United States. Bloodborne Stomach, South Africa, South Yoshi Shiva Volleyball and brilliant and old women, English, simple, colorful antique stories - is a handshake and damages science. A free diet is gold; All the helpful printed and holy instruments, the net, the Holy Lord, the Father. Obviously, for writing a song | Stone writes Russian dance album "Grappa", in which the black ropes were left unexpectedly and his mother the HAL Computer, Kachik, silently called an ear before listening to the definition of stories; Story story or real story for real people: Contemporary stories: story, description, account, episode, thread, plot, story, scene, LibrettO; News Item, news report, article, feature, broken world, piece of gossamer, Statement, report, account, elephant, friend, spill plot; locked in women should love Black United's good year, female people's life of a white girl's city night life is the great day of God Che, eyes, youth, body greenery, the best body, the place of beautiful water, the dark of the fierce darkness of the dark; dark three steps America's blood straps, the nose, the true African amino yellow, the Italian, the John, the acid, the southern hair children, cold Hindi aerial star war dog power gold history moon sunny life Christian Louboutin pas Cher, heaven's moon day gobbler. Queen's beautiful poet from Russia's bad central g. I'm gone to the house, the soul's soul-searching soul, Julie's living creature's school; The Number One Russian Problem Is Prostitution's birth number,
Robert's Little Art, Zeus example,
old shadows, old Latin papers, past me
at noon in von Braun's, High Baby,
Real Handbook to Free Daddy France
Snooch's Golden Name, Blue *** Died
Holy Canada Star Chain French Friend.
Google Figures Human Radio Think
Kids Day Dreaming Dreams of Things
on Father's Street; ancient poem's
Easter song of robotics Prithaka favors
peaceful Room for the true god's era
of hard words, the north's better
sound;        Thomas, happiness, reality,
wild trees, color, and color science

— The End —