Mar 8th

Left

By Depth Writer

Weeping from pages half-adorned by man's decision. Cannot panthom its reasons of peaceful glances. Urban communities underseige, held captive in an ocean of emotional tears. Slaughtered voices with cutout minds, thoughts fall to a breaking silence. No where to rest your heads, to think of why- waves rush over you, the ambiance frustrating, I am sure, but to no avail, you die. In our arms, you are no more to speak the words first embraced ago. So, I too, shall ever weep for thee, and in its population of tombs, I will be of life and continuance. That you too will become the breaths of all. Naught of any distinction or power trip, you, my dears will prevail in an afterlife- 

Mar 8th

Is It That Hard?

By Depth Writer

No light enters the crowd of a million bridges

Their coats flame against the luminous of indulgence, and the new dawn begins to close its eyes upon thy face.

As ridges form wrinkled paths inside your chests- dark images soon appear, as humankind knelt on moist ground. They, the people fell victim to chaos, a disaster, an abyss so admiring in the aftermath of battle.

 

Collecting the album of life in thy palms-

O', the cream of crop shall witness the blindness of you, and perhaps, he or she will question their own deeds.

 

Masses file in line of three, as beetles sway side to side. Their reasons unknown to followers, but still they roam noman's land, and take the leap of faith.

Sunder is naught of reality or to be damned in a world who cannot thirst its own suffering, or hunger for Heaven's halos, but to be of likeness to cosmic aura, and the humanity you claim to want.

 

Mar 8th

Palest

By Depth Writer

Summer direction climbs of passing pale, thin limbs that barely are neglectic. Trashing love lasting of chiming heart. Storms of hail kneel at the bed of echoing mouths.

Mar 8th

Grow

By Depth Writer

You want a revelation that cannot be deciphered?

 

To be collected in a basket of flowers-

disposed, eroded petals slamming below, swallowed by thy soil. Deep dark places crawling from shadowy doorways, dragging tongues flame across your sky. But, the dawn did capsize from rolling hills complete with shivery bodies, and a graceless aorta. 

 

{Holding out my hands]

 

You see I once gave a shit

Would strip the shirt of my back, and give you Heaven and Hell in the same breadth, but your actions spoke loud and clear- turning pages not yet written, I bled on the back of a camel, absorbing the breeze as it birthed from nothing at all.

 

Buried seeds in the pasture, watered, and fed, till they were to be sent off on their own.

 

Held tight to the thought.

Continuance!

 

Watched the clouds sweet and bullet across the horizon.

Evolution!

 

 

 

 

Feb 14th

Valenteen

By Arik Fletcher

We’ve known each other half our lives,

Through sunny day and winter chill,

So much has changed since we were young,

Except our love which never will.

 

We’ve shared this road for half our lives,

Through cheery smile and sorrowed tear,

So much we’ve seen along the way,

Yet we stay strong through each new year.

 

We’ve been entwined for half our lives,

Through happiness and tragedy,

So much has been in our shared time,

But through it all we’re meant to be.

Feb 2nd

Flip-flop

By Depth Writer

Bourbon floats on the rim of a shot glass

colored lava soothing as it runs down funneled throat

Achromic odor flutters in liquid numbness, the old man

captures an anemia thought.

Feb 2nd

Wired

By Depth Writer

Bell wires blossom across the city,
 their belts coincide with irregular harmony,
as the people group in threes
waiting to hear its show begin.
Braces black with a tint of the sun's
braided spikes radiate over the rooves of unsuspected currents.

Feb 2nd

"Fairness "

By TRUST

"In all my life all my prayers have become one compacted Heartbrake cased into FAIRNESS. If it wasn't for tragedy I wouldn't have found decency, honesty, trust, good faith, decorum, true love as long as we got eachother.

They say even forever ain't forever, but for christina I'm prepared to die in the moment.

She is the factor God intended to fold just so I can fluctuate my old desires of  MELANCHOLY, WEARINESS, ANGUISH, HEAVYNESS, BITTERNESS, THE BLUES, A JAZZY SOUL, SORROW, ANGER AND EMINENT SOLILOQUY;

Into something like

THE LANGUAGE OF THE BIRDS, DELIGHT, PLEASURE, ECTSTACY, PEACE, LAUGHTER, WINE, MINK, SATISFACTION, FAMILY, PARTNERSHIP, AND A HARBORING COMPLEXITY THAT PERMITS ME TO GET PISSED OFF AND INSTANTLY SEAL HER SMILE OR STARES IN A INCANDECENT BRIGHTNESS I CALL THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE.

I KNOW THAT UNCONDITIONAL LOVE IS A FATAL FLAW , YET I TOO AM GINNED TO BE WEARY OF THE SUN, I too HAVE SUPPED FULL WITH HORRORS AND WHILE NEPTUNES REVOLUTION CONTINUES AROUND THE STAR AND OCEAN'S CONTINUE TO BLUE MY IMAGINATION ; I'll keep WRITING A SENTIMENT.

FAIR AS FIRE IS HOT I'LL LOVE HER TILL THE END.

AFTER ALL THE MOST IMPORTANT GIFT A FATHER CAN GIVE HIS CHILDREN IS TO LOVE THEIR MOTHER.

 

Feb 2nd

Falcon

By Depth Writer

Argent focuses on its stem

Arms of length feel its touch, the azure brightens, as it begins its bend into the unknown. Billets condemn thorns of itch and thirst, bleeding of tongueless empathy.

Shiny chains and chaplet dine on past meals, banishing the mark of beastly ego, pretending it is not there. Bare crimsons gallop on bareback dreams. Like wild animal pulling, destroying the surroundings of symphony.

Chevron faces stare blankly into darkened coral engimas, and cross the eyes of its blind, feeling its way through death's threshold. Dressed in falcon wing feathers, and disposed hemisphere.

Feb 2nd

Weeb

By Depth Writer

 

With this cloth, we hurry to hang the opus on drapery first birthed from the lace of silky dreams, and open thy mind to the textile of feeling.

 

Feel its texture robe itself around your chested vessel, with tissue tightening, weaving fate inside the pores of flesh. Kneeling to the web beneath the soil, 

asbestos beauty hurling toward the border. A canvas blank.

 

Fingers clawing at the sun in the sky, coulisse warped hands show age and miles traveled. 'fore-and-aft-sail, we glide on wings of fir trees, leeches in the pigments of our skin, begging to be taken away, but you say hell no, for there is no room.

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