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zero Nov 2017
Ashen doves float within the waves,
slinking like silent demons in the night.
They curl around my body,
jaws operating like steel machines,
gnashing at my limbs.
I begin to scream for help,
but they ****** my breath,
they drag me under their tides of black,
unleashing my unremitting fear of water predators.
their teeth, sunken into my flesh,
gnawing at my mind,
painting me my new mortality.

These are my demons,
the sharks in the bath when it comes to hygiene.
the fear of the below and the depths of human mentality,
the untraceable percentage of human worthlessness,
the detestable attraction to the demise of our minds,

I float lower into the aqua,
pressure building,
unforgiving and foreboding
I close my lids, and dream of the sand,
praying it to be underfoot when I open my eyes,
but when my lids open, the doves loom closer.

The irony of a hydrophobe,
dying at the hands of the sharks.
The fear of the ocean is the greatest fear I know.
-Z.xo
Joel M Frye Oct 2014
Cannonball!!!*
Diving from the tattered rope
into the writer's pool,
drenching any nearby poets
with a tsunami of images.
Remembering the sheer joy
of finding such a swimming hole,
and grabbing the chance
again and again
to drop fearlessly
into soul's center.
Today,
a toe tests gingerly
familiar water,
as hands open
the poet's chest
with cold-blooded intent
and wrap themselves
gently about
a muse's heart
and
begin...
to squeeze...
to pulse...
in time...

Spirit, please, in time.
Esther Icarus Apr 16
I am wearing heavy feathers
with the gaze of the day lit to my backside.
A rotisserie routine,
hot with punishment and prayer.
Prayer for punishment,
punishment for prayer.

Answers from a sky beaded in blue birds,
upon gods supposed pretty blue fabric.
Crowned crows and drowned geese barking their bird songs.
Like god’s dog, a dog’s god.
Feedback fed back to my waterproof back.
Backed by waterproofed ears.
No water, no proof.
Not even of the air.

Myself, essential as an appendix,
wise as a wisdom tooth.
A modern sticky taste of evolutionary distaste.
An undriven itch paraded down a forked road.
Forked, ******;
spooned and knifed.
I ask silver why,
silver when?
All it knows is where,
the non knowing of a mouth.

Only a stabbed spoonfed reflection,
down a downed throat.
Only, gagged.
Only, only, only.
One and only, twice and only, third and only.

Words like a modern car,
broken as modern routine,
breaking like the century,
braking on my tired back.
Treaded wrong,
treaded right in the in between spot.
Stubborn and beige as the day.
Shining with sheen of a hydrophobe,
a homophone,
a synonym.
Silver seal skin,
sealed in,
sealed out.

Worn all worn over unmatched elbows dripping dropped drops.
Pointed pens drawing the ink down from my cupped jaw.
Southern drawn tears
written on a northern face.
Tearing torn words on the papered table,
cornered into torn corners,
soiling the bread on the table.

The bacon,
this belly fat.
Migrations rations.
A seasoning.
Sprinting, flying flavors
chased to the next season.

Only less of a lesson when schools out, only schools never leave school.
Schools make students,
and fish,
and pheasants,
and flies,
and men.
This ancient ill-working work.
Same working sons under the same working sun.
Always an agent,
always a pharaoh.
Concealing the pyramids,
stealing cerulean.

Never claimed,
never claimed to claim.
But claimed clams
and bitten birds,
spun on a spit and spat on;
We all are
all we are.
feedback appreciated :)

— The End —