Submissions by HellzLips (Lips)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I write to a melody
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Oct 2015 3:02am
23rd Oct 2015 3:02am
Placatus
Before dawn, drawn upon the long gone song
Of the choir, sat this lonely son along
The maple lane that God had withdrawn
Just prior to the sixth day’s setting sun.
Some argue. The day of rest should come
After all the ghosts have flown on home
And the toy soldier’s letters got to mom
And the lamb is calm in the lion’s den
Of the choir, sat this lonely son along
The maple lane that God had withdrawn
Just prior to the sixth day’s setting sun.
Some argue. The day of rest should come
After all the ghosts have flown on home
And the toy soldier’s letters got to mom
And the lamb is calm in the lion’s den
557 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
13th Sep 2015 5:41pm
13th Sep 2015 5:41pm
Fractured Stone
Bleed me of the demons in me
Feed me to and from the piggies
I don’t care if I know my name tomorrow
A broken stone on a road of pebbles
A portrait of a shattered golem
I don’t know if the fire’s out or sober
Teach me how to own and to give
Show me how I’m supposed to behave
I can’t hide if you don’t care to find me
Fill the cracks with dirt and resin
One more step on my way to heaven
Bend my knees and remind me she found peace
If I could tear a hole in the sky
Just a glimpse of a holy moment
I could fall back to...
Feed me to and from the piggies
I don’t care if I know my name tomorrow
A broken stone on a road of pebbles
A portrait of a shattered golem
I don’t know if the fire’s out or sober
Teach me how to own and to give
Show me how I’m supposed to behave
I can’t hide if you don’t care to find me
Fill the cracks with dirt and resin
One more step on my way to heaven
Bend my knees and remind me she found peace
If I could tear a hole in the sky
Just a glimpse of a holy moment
I could fall back to...
565 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
28th Jan 2015 7:12pm
28th Jan 2015 7:12pm
Wanderlust
He who wanders once,
May grow to lust the wandering.
It shall be sufficient, shall entertain.
That much thrill will a pattern hold,
With the same path and same goal,
Tis’ the same old; Like crumpled nuptials,
Genesis unrolls, wearing at the folds,
All within the bed’s throws.
How rapid he finds it grows cold,
And lo, the hunt for more coals.
The ripples go and go.
He who wanderlusts grows old
Before love is ever known.
May grow to lust the wandering.
It shall be sufficient, shall entertain.
That much thrill will a pattern hold,
With the same path and same goal,
Tis’ the same old; Like crumpled nuptials,
Genesis unrolls, wearing at the folds,
All within the bed’s throws.
How rapid he finds it grows cold,
And lo, the hunt for more coals.
The ripples go and go.
He who wanderlusts grows old
Before love is ever known.
622 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
7th Dec 2014 2:31am
7th Dec 2014 2:31am
Fourteen Decibels
Fourteen decibels
Angry angel, suspend me.
The glow still hangs above the trees at night,
And the banshee throated brother, too late to the fight.
Muscle spasms have since subsided and yet,
The wounds spill forth unending and split.
I did right, but the guilt and guilt.
Twisted visions unsettle my head.
And fourteen decibels keep ringing instead.
Bellowing like powder kegs bursting,
Yet, too soft for others to hear fully.
All I see is grotesque, monstrous
This image I can’t defeat
It still rears against reality.
I know what is false, I...
Angry angel, suspend me.
The glow still hangs above the trees at night,
And the banshee throated brother, too late to the fight.
Muscle spasms have since subsided and yet,
The wounds spill forth unending and split.
I did right, but the guilt and guilt.
Twisted visions unsettle my head.
And fourteen decibels keep ringing instead.
Bellowing like powder kegs bursting,
Yet, too soft for others to hear fully.
All I see is grotesque, monstrous
This image I can’t defeat
It still rears against reality.
I know what is false, I...
706 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
25th Oct 2014 4:16am
25th Oct 2014 4:16am
Trochilidae
Take down the hummingbird feeder.
The willow tree’s branches are yielding,
But sing for the petite hummingbird
To still come hover over this field.
And if she does not return to here
Then scream her name for God to hear.
Surely though, there is a better field,
With countless more blooms and canes;
More than all the flappings of her wings
That let her fly in agile grace.
One day soon, this field will turn
And off to another, I know we head;
To share in the lilac tinted sunrise,
In the air that tastes of sweetest sugar,
To see our little...
The willow tree’s branches are yielding,
But sing for the petite hummingbird
To still come hover over this field.
And if she does not return to here
Then scream her name for God to hear.
Surely though, there is a better field,
With countless more blooms and canes;
More than all the flappings of her wings
That let her fly in agile grace.
One day soon, this field will turn
And off to another, I know we head;
To share in the lilac tinted sunrise,
In the air that tastes of sweetest sugar,
To see our little...
580 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
16th Jul 2014 4:58pm
16th Jul 2014 4:58pm
Above Her Garden
A rose above her garden
The dusty watering can
Rainless dirt patch, brittle
Anemic roots distend
Imagoes find no ground here
Trusses and blades dulled brown
Origin of the famine treaty
Removal of the briar crown
Sincerest of the perennials
Legatee of the sepia yard
Exposing overlapping petals
Wrinkled, puce, tinctured of nard
Monoliths crumbled, wanting
Yesterday’s sun beheld
Rose of recompense, sure
Outré endogenous bell
Slowly, the wasteland recrudesced
Even souls succumb to desperation
The dusty watering can
Rainless dirt patch, brittle
Anemic roots distend
Imagoes find no ground here
Trusses and blades dulled brown
Origin of the famine treaty
Removal of the briar crown
Sincerest of the perennials
Legatee of the sepia yard
Exposing overlapping petals
Wrinkled, puce, tinctured of nard
Monoliths crumbled, wanting
Yesterday’s sun beheld
Rose of recompense, sure
Outré endogenous bell
Slowly, the wasteland recrudesced
Even souls succumb to desperation
725 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
4th Jul 2014 7:48am
4th Jul 2014 7:48am
Latent Slip
I encouraged myself, and stuffed down my humility,
Venturing down the royal road.
I cannot say, and truth I swear,
Recall the forms and manifestations enough to profile.
I coined myself sheltered and, though modest I was in countering,
Transference became the most blinding against the dark.
The presentation was magnificent, but independent of the politics,
Desires bludgeoned the angel on my right.
The crystal top hat, of bridge resting width on my face,
Molded over the she-giant’s brow in lieu of shattering.
She welcomed me onto her ass’s...
Venturing down the royal road.
I cannot say, and truth I swear,
Recall the forms and manifestations enough to profile.
I coined myself sheltered and, though modest I was in countering,
Transference became the most blinding against the dark.
The presentation was magnificent, but independent of the politics,
Desires bludgeoned the angel on my right.
The crystal top hat, of bridge resting width on my face,
Molded over the she-giant’s brow in lieu of shattering.
She welcomed me onto her ass’s...
712 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Jun 2014 5:46am
14th Jun 2014 5:46am
Liar's Kin
There is nothing porous of a liar’s skin
The sweat just ureic condensation
The only product of frigid machines
The seals preclude incineration
The formula is so familiar
The scent recalls welled lacrimal tears
Outshining Apollo to cleanse the stain
A secret consumed by gullible ears
Rub two sticks and watch the tender
The smoke faintest through a grin
Eventually we all surrender
Becoming but a liar’s kin
The sweat just ureic condensation
The only product of frigid machines
The seals preclude incineration
The formula is so familiar
The scent recalls welled lacrimal tears
Outshining Apollo to cleanse the stain
A secret consumed by gullible ears
Rub two sticks and watch the tender
The smoke faintest through a grin
Eventually we all surrender
Becoming but a liar’s kin
725 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
3rd Jun 2014 11:45pm
3rd Jun 2014 11:45pm
Ectopia Cordis
What fell beyond the fence
Was never handled with care
Or at all, all the days it sunk
Mush made to muck
A draped thoraxic pen
The drum, stubborn, steady
Up to the end, and fair
Notes plucked by Eros
A vestigial strum
It should be garbage
No, never found upon my land
Nor never the tilted tempo
Did tremble in my ear
Though it throbbed its loudest
When I thought it, in a moment
Was there
Was never handled with care
Or at all, all the days it sunk
Mush made to muck
A draped thoraxic pen
The drum, stubborn, steady
Up to the end, and fair
Notes plucked by Eros
A vestigial strum
It should be garbage
No, never found upon my land
Nor never the tilted tempo
Did tremble in my ear
Though it throbbed its loudest
When I thought it, in a moment
Was there
605 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th Mar 2014 3:59am
15th Mar 2014 3:59am
More More
The ponds don’t pine for a miracle
Flowing towards the river’s mouth
But just prefer a deeper water
To sink, certain which way is south
The winds don’t howl for a miracle
Blowing so the trees can dance
Just to see some peaceful sway
Motion, beauty in changing stance
The birds don’t sing for a miracle
Chirping so the young can learn
Just so, but more than instinct
Offspring, so love’s candle can burn
I will not hope for a miracle
Wasting efforts on an unsure thing
No need to search for something more
Nature, every...
Flowing towards the river’s mouth
But just prefer a deeper water
To sink, certain which way is south
The winds don’t howl for a miracle
Blowing so the trees can dance
Just to see some peaceful sway
Motion, beauty in changing stance
The birds don’t sing for a miracle
Chirping so the young can learn
Just so, but more than instinct
Offspring, so love’s candle can burn
I will not hope for a miracle
Wasting efforts on an unsure thing
No need to search for something more
Nature, every...
666 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
25th Feb 2014 5:35am
25th Feb 2014 5:35am
Our Place With Them
He who walks with animals
With joy and pairing of senses
His feet pace the paws and hooves
He walks well with companions
The smallest began the caravan
The humblest eaters the caboose
Shape and song distinguish slightly
Though hearts do thump in unison
With joy and pairing of senses
His feet pace the paws and hooves
He walks well with companions
The smallest began the caravan
The humblest eaters the caboose
Shape and song distinguish slightly
Though hearts do thump in unison
641 reads
0 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
28th Jan 2014 2:01am
28th Jan 2014 2:01am
A Letter of Little Depth, to None but Myself, A Scared Little Boy With a Girl’s Name
What presses against my thoughts that let me overcome everything that holds me so low? I am a scholar of emotion and behavior and response, I can identify depressive episodes, in others and within, and I can say in sincerity, I am low. The notion that I can be so low, and yet all my symptoms are internal, causes me pause and disbelief that I can actually get up in the morning, get up and prepare myself for a world that just objectifies me. I, like most, do not deserve anything from a cruel nature, I owe it back, and should pay it forward for whatever preset implications caused me to assemble,...
888 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by HellzLips (Lips)
