Jul 6th

I

By Depth Writer

The Fallen

In the night
when it is dark
...charcoal-gray blankets me

Its heaviness it compelling
in a land with a mark; tattooed
...lives begin to fall

  Say thee love I
  as my heartbeats pound the sky
  Like thunder bolts tumbling beyond
  mountain seas, washing the pain away

  Say thee love I
  like the rainbow, and beautiful wings
  As, time begins to cease, and crease
  we all assemble awkwardly, 'neath the 
      swelling moon; its' soul unfolding
       like lava spewing, and spitting...

Its levee's stuck in orbit
sin growing all around
...wicks blossom

Alongside, the tremors, seizures
begin knocking the sugary sand
...our palms; limbs of history broken

 

Jul 6th

H

By Depth Writer

Amputation of Your Tongue

Today
You, the author
fell to bony knees
The places once beautiful
torn from the Earth

Your tongues dangle
in a breadth-less wind

Display
naught the noir atmosphere
of shadowed souls, but that of eternity
It is the other side you quiver, and hide from
Snare drums beat like the heart 
emerged in lingering gossip
Atoms savor the reluctance of arch-less minds
degree's of complications float by the opus

Your lungs mangled
by a flesh-less sin
Jul 6th

G

By Depth Writer

Interred Within The Soil

Share with me, the beautiful things you see-
the emotion that appears
back in the closet of my soul.
conscious feeling
The desire, and hunger for love...

Look at me; a part of the sea...
its choppiness blanketing mine chest
comber to the moon, deep we both cry
swimming against the current, sinking deeper
into your arms- becoming embedded within you

Share with me, the beauty of creation...
all powerful, the almighty, alpha come to I
Antenatal architecture bear its reflections
all of the thirst that engulfs your hands, the strength
that accompanies it...

Look at me; a part of thee...
show my fingertips the bulkhead, channel onto my mind
Egress this entrance~ let it use its key to open imagination
thrashing the beards of barren beds, the soil interred deeply
closing in the gaps of time...

These songs overwhelming life' grasping the echo of the shadows
blazing out of love, falling within- in your arms as you imagine
the colored waterfall
Jul 6th

F

By Depth Writer

Friction

Fracture lines form wrinkles, on brows of intelligence;
linking the notes to undefined verses;
Eureka! Eureka!
 The bagpipes sweep across the comforter of elimination,
  drowning the silence that has muted the voices for time;

Pale melodies engulfed the studs of Richards soul, his rib cage
poking out like an inflated sun, within all creation there is a key;
 Spanning across the azimuth, its command erect inside cavities
  A false eyesight, tongues farsighted by noncompeting...

The bony fingertips erased of patterns, an opus gouged away
eroded with edgy elbows, bodies inter each others mind;
A lubber line filled with gray bellies, sinking its fangs deep within,
rubber flesh, and crisscrossing veins;

 Sunsets and eastward we all peer into crumpled clouds, 
where bees wax reflects off the mirrors of our hearts;
Flaming from the path spirits once walked, where they impressed
 the forthcoming fortunes, and carried forth the past reincarnations;

Sails washed in saliva, circumcised by catapulting thunder rods,
breaking the irons, and ivory chains that kept them prisoner;
Validating the abyss, the hell hole blackened by hollow night stars,
  making it through, dieting over and over, till' birth is absolute;

Hercules wears his chest on Leather's breasts, her blonde hair like silk, chiffon
blossoming on crimson, and tangy cheeks;
Dismantled breadths submersed into creamy, white, snow-capped kisses,
sewn spirals meet with old school attractions, hangers flung sideways;
Apr 27th

DIFFERENT TWISTS

By Depth Writer

 

 

 Arms of length feel its touch,

 the azure brightens, as it begins 

the 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 a symphony.

 

 

  Chevron faces staring blankly

 into darkened coral enigmas, 

and cross the eyes of its blind,

 feeling its way through death's

  threshold. Dressed in falcon

 wing feathers, and disposed 

of a hemisphere.

Nov 23rd

Bagpipes, Pages Countless

By Depth Writer
An apprentice to history's muse
She sat unamused by today's rthymic tone;
                     poetry of all forms paraded across the checkered, black, and red tiled floor, swinging to the beat of the lines that sang to the tune.
      Words decorate his courtyard of an unending passion, and grace.
      Their eyes riddled with letters, words, thoughts
                     " a contoured mind "
 
                          Somersaulting into the mouth of dawn
                            Carrying experiences on his torso,
                                    "artisan of compassion", 
                              ''an architect to the forthcoming."

         
 Long, narrow fingertips cutting through the bone;
          trace back to days, hours,
                     seconds gone
                    "assimilate meaning"
                 The reasoning behind vibrant arches, 
     absorbing rainbow, dreamy lava desire, 
            kissing lips, necking thoughts, all walks
                         rustication of the assessor,

          "the artificer, art objects" 
                                An author to musings,

                           inspiring all walks of life, 
                             a bachelor studying the curves,
                                       'yesteryear's ambiance' dancing with its arms across the plethora, the moaning of waves gather at your bangs...
         
                        Furrowing drainage ditches thirsting for acceptance
                          where tears once lay stale
                                           love's passion igniting the wicks of unbalanced candle sticks, dripping of wax sillohettes, models to...
       "aplomb ventures outside the boxes"

Assuring his followers that he is stronger,
it shows in writes by faith in things not seen, the oblivious peace
tween mind and unchained soul...

     "settling into the soil feeling its moisture"

Whilst, evenhandedly, thriving to find the balance, 
                             belief of things he has trouble to hear with sound ears, touch with laughter, or find with ambitions attire....
 
          "understanding, or to 'See'th'  in opus"

                       Cabala is bold, striking the cheeks rosy, 
                                          ...expectations rise blue with excitement...
            Information unravels like a cork-screw,
                           ...its barrels blast away.at streets unformed...

           "His voice utters prose like an alto horn
            speaking in tongues at a timid skyline."

   Baritone whispers illuminate through the lips of a gentle wind
          ...bells choking at the sound of footsteps, as the hand of the sun moves quickly... life is following me....

             Dragging across instruments untouched
           He bellows, its symphony slowly beating;
Soon the audible play organs unnoticed, unprepared for what is ahead...
                        
                      "like a thunderous storm. It speaks rapid, like an ironed digit in the moments before neither then, or now."
           
  A distant boom is heard echoing through
             .it's thoughts dancing on a naked ground
                       Needing a place to rest their souls
                               "Canals of liquid aqua tears"
                   ...spew to bony feet, in carillon colors
                          swirl like ink dropped into a well,
                               spinning, weaving dreams never spoken of...

                              Bagpipes sing in the afar isles, '
                                   bassoon, and oboe dance,
                                      beating the tree limbs 
                                         Against the saturated hills -
                  '' veins in lengths of string 
                           lay flat like ironed lace bowing...
                             
                      "At the sight of first light"
                      ...his arms move cello faces 
                                  tending to fiddle-stick's
                                      Scroll through
               countless pages never seen, 
                   exposed inside an atlas map, 
     
         Routes never traveled, never dared to be explored, robes of cloth neath blossom'g garden; their beauty unmatched by rising suns...
            "Affront attempts to be the best man"
 ...he can be his battle cries still racing 
           -in unmentioned derby's

© Karen A.S
Nov 23rd

The Weight

By Depth Writer
  An apprentice to history's muse
She sat unamused by today's rthymic tone;
                     poetry of all forms paraded across the checkered, black, and red tiled floor, swinging to the beat of the lines that sang to the tune.
      Words decorate his courtyard of an unending passion, and grace.
      Their eyes riddled with letters, words, thoughts
                     " a contoured mind "
 
                          Somersaulting into the mouth of dawn
                            Carrying experiences on his torso,
                                    "artisan of compassion", 
                              ''an architect to the forthcoming."

         
 Long, narrow fingertips cutting through the bone;
          trace back to days, hours,
                     seconds gone
                    "assimilate meaning"
                 The reasoning behind vibrant arches, 
     absorbing rainbow, dreamy lava desire, 
            kissing lips, necking thoughts, all walks
                         rustication of the assessor,

          "the artificer, art objects" 
                                An author to musings,

                           inspiring all walks of life, 
                             a bachelor studying the curves,
                                       'yesteryear's ambiance' dancing with its arms across the plethora, the moaning of waves gather at your bangs...
         
                        Furrowing drainage ditches thirsting for acceptance
                          where tears once lay stale
                                           love's passion igniting the wicks of unbalanced candle sticks, dripping of wax sillohettes, models to...
       "aplomb ventures outside the boxes"

Assuring his followers that he is stronger,
it shows in writes by faith in things not seen, the oblivious peace
tween mind and unchained soul...

     "settling into the soil feeling its moisture"

Whilst, evenhandedly, thriving to find the balance, 
                             belief of things he has trouble to hear with sound ears, touch with laughter, or find with ambitions attire....
 
          "understanding, or to 'See'th'  in opus"

                       Cabala is bold, striking the cheeks rosy, 
                                          ...expectations rise blue with excitement...
            Information unravels like a cork-screw,
                           ...its barrels blast away.at streets unformed...

           "His voice utters prose like an alto horn
            speaking in tongues at a timid skyline."

   Baritone whispers illuminate through the lips of a gentle wind
          ...bells choking at the sound of footsteps, as the hand of the sun moves quickly... life is following me....

             Dragging across instruments untouched
           He bellows, its symphony slowly beating;
Soon the audible play organs unnoticed, unprepared for what is ahead...
                        
                      "like a thunderous storm. It speaks rapid, like an ironed digit in the moments before neither then, or now."
           
  A distant boom is heard echoing through
             .it's thoughts dancing on a naked ground
                       Needing a place to rest their souls
                               "Canals of liquid aqua tears"
                   ...spew to bony feet, in carillon colors
                          swirl like ink dropped into a well,
                               spinning, weaving dreams never spoken of...

                              Bagpipes sing in the afar isles, '
                                   bassoon, and oboe dance,
                                      beating the tree limbs 
                                         Against the saturated hills -
                  '' veins in lengths of string 
                           lay flat like ironed lace bowing...
                             
                      "At the sight of first light"
                      ...his arms move cello faces 
                                  tending to fiddle-stick's
                                      Scroll through
               countless pages never seen, 
                   exposed inside an atlas map, 
     
         Routes never traveled, never dared to be explored, robes of cloth neath blossom'g garden; their beauty unmatched by rising suns...
            "Affront attempts to be the best man"
 ...he can be his battle cries still racing 
           -in unmentioned derby's

© Karen A.S

 

 

 

Nov 23rd

The Weight

By Depth Writer
  An apprentice to history's muse
She sat unamused by today's rthymic tone;
                     poetry of all forms paraded across the checkered, black, and red tiled floor, swinging to the beat of the lines that sang to the tune.
      Words decorate his courtyard of an unending passion, and grace.
      Their eyes riddled with letters, words, thoughts
                     " a contoured mind "
 
                          Somersaulting into the mouth of dawn
                            Carrying experiences on his torso,
                                    "artisan of compassion", 
                              ''an architect to the forthcoming."

         
 Long, narrow fingertips cutting through the bone;
          trace back to days, hours,
                     seconds gone
                    "assimilate meaning"
                 The reasoning behind vibrant arches, 
     absorbing rainbow, dreamy lava desire, 
            kissing lips, necking thoughts, all walks
                         rustication of the assessor,

          "the artificer, art objects" 
                                An author to musings,

                           inspiring all walks of life, 
                             a bachelor studying the curves,
                                       'yesteryear's ambiance' dancing with its arms across the plethora, the moaning of waves gather at your bangs...
         
                        Furrowing drainage ditches thirsting for acceptance
                          where tears once lay stale
                                           love's passion igniting the wicks of unbalanced candle sticks, dripping of wax sillohettes, models to...
       "aplomb ventures outside the boxes"

Assuring his followers that he is stronger,
it shows in writes by faith in things not seen, the oblivious peace
tween mind and unchained soul...

     "settling into the soil feeling its moisture"

Whilst, evenhandedly, thriving to find the balance, 
                             belief of things he has trouble to hear with sound ears, touch with laughter, or find with ambitions attire....
 
          "understanding, or to 'See'th'  in opus"

                       Cabala is bold, striking the cheeks rosy, 
                                          ...expectations rise blue with excitement...
            Information unravels like a cork-screw,
                           ...its barrels blast away.at streets unformed...

           "His voice utters prose like an alto horn
            speaking in tongues at a timid skyline."

   Baritone whispers illuminate through the lips of a gentle wind
          ...bells choking at the sound of footsteps, as the hand of the sun moves quickly... life is following me....

             Dragging across instruments untouched
           He bellows, its symphony slowly beating;
Soon the audible play organs unnoticed, unprepared for what is ahead...
                        
                      "like a thunderous storm. It speaks rapid, like an ironed digit in the moments before neither then, or now."
           
  A distant boom is heard echoing through
             .it's thoughts dancing on a naked ground
                       Needing a place to rest their souls
                               "Canals of liquid aqua tears"
                   ...spew to bony feet, in carillon colors
                          swirl like ink dropped into a well,
                               spinning, weaving dreams never spoken of...

                              Bagpipes sing in the afar isles, '
                                   bassoon, and oboe dance,
                                      beating the tree limbs 
                                         Against the saturated hills -
                  '' veins in lengths of string 
                           lay flat like ironed lace bowing...
                             
                      "At the sight of first light"
                      ...his arms move cello faces 
                                  tending to fiddle-stick's
                                      Scroll through
               countless pages never seen, 
                   exposed inside an atlas map, 
     
         Routes never traveled, never dared to be explored, robes of cloth neath blossom'g garden; their beauty unmatched by rising suns...
            "Affront attempts to be the best man"
 ...he can be his battle cries still racing 
           -in unmentioned derby's

© Karen A.S

 

 

 

Oct 2nd

Confession

By Tarringo Basile-Vaughan
                                                                                                   

I have committed adultery.

                My marriage to poetry was rock solid until I looked in the eyes of prose and became infatuated.  We began to share words and thoughts I didn’t know was inside of me and I became a different person.  I begin to sneak around at night when I knew poetry was sleeping just to spend time with this new fascination. This lust took control of me changing my behavior and the way I touched the love of my life.  I tried to lie but I couldn’t explain the lipstick stains on another form of literature left on my soul, so I confessed.  I apologized for this transformation and promised poetry I would end my love affair with prose, but poetry took my hand and made me promise to continue because I needed prose to make my connection to my lover stronger.  This process of self-discovery changed the way I looked out at the world; it changed my vision of thought and triggered new habits of incorrect grammar.

                The love affair with prose started on a silent midnight afternoon in the middle of winter.  There was coldness in the air only my breath could see and a shiver in the wind only my wind could keep warm.  I admit I was upset with poetry for that moment because of its selfish ways and its refusal of new memories of expression; I called it a writer’s lock.  So there I was in the middle of a barren field clearing my muse and trying to figure out ways to reconnect with my dear poetry.   A whisper in the clouds looked down on me as the sky darkened into a winters gray.   The reminiscence of the moon sparkled in a residue of inheritance half hidden behind a large Birch tree that was arguing with the stars.  I saw a familiar translation but a new clarity in interpretation.  Prose became a new desire that gently kissed the neck of my tone; it embraced me with a new language becoming the piece I needed to make my poetics whole again.  This wasn’t infidelity at all because I was making love in a whole new way with poetry.  It was just a new scent in an appealing fragrance of language and in all it is all a commitment to the journey of my heart and soul and how everything around me is a story to be told. 

I confess my loyalty to the written word.

© 2010

Tarringo T. Vaughan

Jan 18th

Harlequin

By Depth Writer

Harlequin

In the aftermath;
Where Pantalone, and Punchinello collide
An ambiance is seen flattering the plateau's of ago

The Brownian movement glides prospurous 
the public bondage between living, and dying 
Indian files flank towards the soiled fingertips

Absurb artifacts are agitated, an abyss colorful
Yet, in all purpose his influences run amok
On wildernesses tame, and solid- but un-grounded

Bear witness to the book, keen sportsmanship of life
the backbone slanted on tilting axis, a stalk buried
In gravel once verboten to the regular opus

O' silent one, let the whispers escape the buff
of unheard speeches, and present history, words
Shining of light... but invisible to the streets

© Karen A.S. Dewitt

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