Submissions by kahlokoala
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
inexperienced, raw, passionate, fumbling, frequently confused, introspective, probing, following my muse (right now I keep coming back to unrequited love), in need of honest advice, humble
Dialectic of the Lost II
I've found
a window
has cracked open.
I'm ashamed
of the hot air
wisping out
the sliver.
I'm always
---------------reaching
for the next
one
to tell myself to.
Who will let me
be a part of them?
I know better--
everyone is another
I could
have been.
Still,
the stinging
echo of
the distinction--
the proclamation
of distance.
a window
has cracked open.
I'm ashamed
of the hot air
wisping out
the sliver.
I'm always
---------------reaching
for the next
one
to tell myself to.
Who will let me
be a part of them?
I know better--
everyone is another
I could
have been.
Still,
the stinging
echo of
the distinction--
the proclamation
of distance.
567 reads
1 Comment
Dialectic of the Lost
She unsettles me.
She lives herself
in extremes.
She creates her image,
so wholly
today--
as if a lifetime of
regret has passed.
I do not know
how to approach.
The mountain she was
yesterday
has fallen to
canyon.
She wants the
liberty
of self-hate,
of belief,
and action.
She Wants
She wants
she wants
to believe
in hollowness.
She is waiting
for the river
that proves it--
washing her away
century by century
(second by...
She lives herself
in extremes.
She creates her image,
so wholly
today--
as if a lifetime of
regret has passed.
I do not know
how to approach.
The mountain she was
yesterday
has fallen to
canyon.
She wants the
liberty
of self-hate,
of belief,
and action.
She Wants
She wants
she wants
to believe
in hollowness.
She is waiting
for the river
that proves it--
washing her away
century by century
(second by...
648 reads
2 Comments
Motivational Musings in an Undead World
I've been wonderin'
if I can
pick it all up -
lift the solemn sentience
of yesterday's happenings
to the application
of each today.
I've forgotten
what's worth the insatiable
yearning
rushing in
with every rise of my eyelids.
I don't know
what to do with
all the time
that demands its own wasting.
Is it healthy
to simply adjust
to the manufactured rhythms
of our taxidermied days?
Is it a fool's game
to follow the paths available - ...
if I can
pick it all up -
lift the solemn sentience
of yesterday's happenings
to the application
of each today.
I've forgotten
what's worth the insatiable
yearning
rushing in
with every rise of my eyelids.
I don't know
what to do with
all the time
that demands its own wasting.
Is it healthy
to simply adjust
to the manufactured rhythms
of our taxidermied days?
Is it a fool's game
to follow the paths available - ...
#humankind
#TruthOfLife
#SelfReflection
578 reads
0 Comments
Window
True love is the radiant
space between two beings;
starry-eyed souls
seeing the other.
Trapped in
eternity-walled rooms-
bodies.
There are countless mirrors
in my room.
I stare too long
through two-way mirrors.
I know of others
who are content
to admire the one-ways.
Where is the window?
space between two beings;
starry-eyed souls
seeing the other.
Trapped in
eternity-walled rooms-
bodies.
There are countless mirrors
in my room.
I stare too long
through two-way mirrors.
I know of others
who are content
to admire the one-ways.
Where is the window?
697 reads
4 Comments
Fool Moon
I wanted to
kiss you,
Fool Moon.
Blood-crazy,
needle nerves
prick along my spine--
electric wire
conducting affect.
I wanted to
hold you,
Fool Moon.
Warm honey shoulders--
hands tracing,
grasping,
reaching toward
co-creative imminence.
I wanted to
rest in the shadow,
Fool Moon.
I wanted to
dance in your luminescence.
kiss you,
Fool Moon.
Blood-crazy,
needle nerves
prick along my spine--
electric wire
conducting affect.
I wanted to
hold you,
Fool Moon.
Warm honey shoulders--
hands tracing,
grasping,
reaching toward
co-creative imminence.
I wanted to
rest in the shadow,
Fool Moon.
I wanted to
dance in your luminescence.
594 reads
1 Comment
Eros: The Vestige of Love
4 years have passed.
Eros is still with me--
the sweetbitter
wanting what you
don't give.
Hanging
on
to
every
firtation...
Grasping for every
kind olive branch.
This past year
has been hell;
Eros greeted me
in February--
comes and goes
as she pleases.
I'm swept into silent fury.
You're wearing that ring.
(Maybe I'm just foolishly sad?)
Fury ought to have justification,
shouldn't it?
3 weeks
your sometimes...
Eros is still with me--
the sweetbitter
wanting what you
don't give.
Hanging
on
to
every
firtation...
Grasping for every
kind olive branch.
This past year
has been hell;
Eros greeted me
in February--
comes and goes
as she pleases.
I'm swept into silent fury.
You're wearing that ring.
(Maybe I'm just foolishly sad?)
Fury ought to have justification,
shouldn't it?
3 weeks
your sometimes...
569 reads
1 Comment
Distinctions
You ask me
what more you could give.
You love me.
You believe
I draw too many distinctions
between types of love.
I want the bright sweet lavender tides of lovers' shyness.
I want the exulted rose confetti of joy in your presence,
and the red twisting ribbons of desire.
I want the great hulking bastions,
the bedrock and columns of our dayscomeandgo agreements,
to overlook the ripped currents of discord
that may come when the weary winds of the shared world blow toward us.
I want a circumstance that allows
my...
what more you could give.
You love me.
You believe
I draw too many distinctions
between types of love.
I want the bright sweet lavender tides of lovers' shyness.
I want the exulted rose confetti of joy in your presence,
and the red twisting ribbons of desire.
I want the great hulking bastions,
the bedrock and columns of our dayscomeandgo agreements,
to overlook the ripped currents of discord
that may come when the weary winds of the shared world blow toward us.
I want a circumstance that allows
my...
756 reads
3 Comments
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