Submissions by lightbaron
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
LOVE POEM
Published
25th May 2015 2:52pm
25th May 2015 2:52pm
recidivism
the sanctions will start tomorrow
because we litter these letters
where nothing's allowed to remain
our half lives abide by the billions
be brilliant but disposable
they'll tell us tomorrow
but today is the last echo from the after
let us toss gross names at each hour
the debt from tomorrow's marble mark
will wipe us clean again anyway
let us squander our lovely lies
while the taffy still licks sweet
because we litter these letters
where nothing's allowed to remain
our half lives abide by the billions
be brilliant but disposable
they'll tell us tomorrow
but today is the last echo from the after
let us toss gross names at each hour
the debt from tomorrow's marble mark
will wipe us clean again anyway
let us squander our lovely lies
while the taffy still licks sweet
1026 reads
9 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
19th May 2015 10:55pm
19th May 2015 10:55pm
second verse, same as the first
It isn't real until it's written
tacked through its spine
and set just above eye level
to be confronted.
it was late Friday night
early morning hours
and I was in the bathroom
the frantic knock at the door shocked me
I gathered my gear too quickly
then exited
forgetting the sharp secret
that's been warming my arms
for well over a decade
but this is years after the last
of the very last
and the honesty that fills the space
when all the scabs have been picked
padded flesh...
tacked through its spine
and set just above eye level
to be confronted.
it was late Friday night
early morning hours
and I was in the bathroom
the frantic knock at the door shocked me
I gathered my gear too quickly
then exited
forgetting the sharp secret
that's been warming my arms
for well over a decade
but this is years after the last
of the very last
and the honesty that fills the space
when all the scabs have been picked
padded flesh...
987 reads
7 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
11th May 2015 1:22am
11th May 2015 1:22am
day lily
back on May's porch
where the box of old theatre jewelry
was first tipped over
spilling tangled metallic mileage
and we started the slow separation
of the knotted together embellishments
kept as the lunatics feet still washed
in the chalk from off the moth's back
common caterpillars typing out talc
it's all eggshell anymore
over an anchor
and we when the grass gets wet
respect us our dew
rolling dawn's tragedy in
on pastels without pain
all springs rush forth now after...
where the box of old theatre jewelry
was first tipped over
spilling tangled metallic mileage
and we started the slow separation
of the knotted together embellishments
kept as the lunatics feet still washed
in the chalk from off the moth's back
common caterpillars typing out talc
it's all eggshell anymore
over an anchor
and we when the grass gets wet
respect us our dew
rolling dawn's tragedy in
on pastels without pain
all springs rush forth now after...
885 reads
5 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th May 2015 2:11pm
6th May 2015 2:11pm
On ppr
that night is a still length
strung with sugar
in the carbon residue of singed syrup
the vinegar wash is for the days
and the formality of actually happening
remaining are the symptoms from another place
suppressed by the medicine of the stillest time
when this really should not have been worked
out on paper
strung with sugar
in the carbon residue of singed syrup
the vinegar wash is for the days
and the formality of actually happening
remaining are the symptoms from another place
suppressed by the medicine of the stillest time
when this really should not have been worked
out on paper
942 reads
6 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
4th Apr 2015 10:01pm
4th Apr 2015 10:01pm
can suppose
Walden will be the collection of datoms
that we call a line.
It will become the outside.
From there in
the furthest distance from fringe
we'll weave an uneven million eschatons
into a normalcy through non-burdensome words.
Because none are more than a pathway
and the entire planet is paved.
We will attract inward, always
lessening the variables of our equations
until the soap box proclamations
sanitize the heavy public of those little squares.
I only meant that none could come lovelier.
Although she knew the angry...
that we call a line.
It will become the outside.
From there in
the furthest distance from fringe
we'll weave an uneven million eschatons
into a normalcy through non-burdensome words.
Because none are more than a pathway
and the entire planet is paved.
We will attract inward, always
lessening the variables of our equations
until the soap box proclamations
sanitize the heavy public of those little squares.
I only meant that none could come lovelier.
Although she knew the angry...
796 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
21st Mar 2015 4:48am
21st Mar 2015 4:48am
Anubis
that which is loved most lies next to me
skin at seven months that is nature's extravagance
and the words are finally winning
never ask the apples while they're tasting red
without their iron filings
line me explicitly at the ass end of this labor
that deserves rest
yet survives through the decoration of forgetfulness
skin at seven months that is nature's extravagance
and the words are finally winning
never ask the apples while they're tasting red
without their iron filings
line me explicitly at the ass end of this labor
that deserves rest
yet survives through the decoration of forgetfulness
911 reads
7 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
12th Mar 2015 1:01pm
12th Mar 2015 1:01pm
golden teacher
Those nights were so serious
under the umbrella
that catches heaven's excess
and all we did was spin so simple
While our wildlings hung kites on keystrings
under the umbrella
that catches heaven's excess
and all we did was spin so simple
While our wildlings hung kites on keystrings
951 reads
6 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th Jan 2015 7:30am
6th Jan 2015 7:30am
lullaby
there is no doubt that she is your woman
when she sings the long black veil
of folk medicine down over your son
his belly ache and fresh teeth
rustling rogue winds over the hills of night
and she lets you sleep
a rest we've never seen
he'll cling to her comforted, finally
and she'll sneak the few winks allotted
before our boy breaks with dawn
then we will father awake another day
him, again with the smiles
me, all right with everything
when she sings the long black veil
of folk medicine down over your son
his belly ache and fresh teeth
rustling rogue winds over the hills of night
and she lets you sleep
a rest we've never seen
he'll cling to her comforted, finally
and she'll sneak the few winks allotted
before our boy breaks with dawn
then we will father awake another day
him, again with the smiles
me, all right with everything
1156 reads
8 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
11th Dec 2014 6:55pm
11th Dec 2014 6:55pm
warmth is what's remembered
in the playpen of an infant
they are spinning
along with a snail
wearing a monicle
and a triangle
spiraling
brown-red of crumbled brick
above
below is not the ninety nine feet of snow
that was lain well before we walked
nor is it the slush that the rushers make
soaking in beneath our denim
under where chalk can still spell cold
they become recognizable
from way outside
when the curves round down
flat, and they are viewed
from a two by three inch rectangle
that stretches to scale
the too...
they are spinning
along with a snail
wearing a monicle
and a triangle
spiraling
brown-red of crumbled brick
above
below is not the ninety nine feet of snow
that was lain well before we walked
nor is it the slush that the rushers make
soaking in beneath our denim
under where chalk can still spell cold
they become recognizable
from way outside
when the curves round down
flat, and they are viewed
from a two by three inch rectangle
that stretches to scale
the too...
966 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
16th Nov 2014 8:50pm
16th Nov 2014 8:50pm
hazelnut
late autumn swings its concrete pendulum
through pleasantly weighted eyelids
on Sunday afternoon
after a morning of just enough
too many too much
cigarettes, coffee, cannabis
sex, eggs, bacon, rest, touch
where a man has nothing left to spend
and the smell of a satisfied woman
soaks into the cracks of his hands
that the using them outdoors causes
and his beard shares her pleasure
with the cold air screaming through
the cracked window of a car
today's thirteenth hour needs a nap
like light...
through pleasantly weighted eyelids
on Sunday afternoon
after a morning of just enough
too many too much
cigarettes, coffee, cannabis
sex, eggs, bacon, rest, touch
where a man has nothing left to spend
and the smell of a satisfied woman
soaks into the cracks of his hands
that the using them outdoors causes
and his beard shares her pleasure
with the cold air screaming through
the cracked window of a car
today's thirteenth hour needs a nap
like light...
1018 reads
7 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
10th Nov 2014 11:41am
10th Nov 2014 11:41am
dosing out daily
these are the days of the slow pet pup
and the rocked to sleep baby
the jetpack needs a tuneup
but is still kept running in the closet
saturday mornings exist in a space
where its language lives off the grid
there is no more memory of the wars
they've become as hollowed
as the echo off dishonesty
and the artist's studio has finally gone dark
when midnight oil spins in the mud of overuse
while the lovely ladies in hand woven linens
still twirl dizzy into dandelions on hillsides
but...
and the rocked to sleep baby
the jetpack needs a tuneup
but is still kept running in the closet
saturday mornings exist in a space
where its language lives off the grid
there is no more memory of the wars
they've become as hollowed
as the echo off dishonesty
and the artist's studio has finally gone dark
when midnight oil spins in the mud of overuse
while the lovely ladies in hand woven linens
still twirl dizzy into dandelions on hillsides
but...
869 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th Nov 2014 2:53pm
6th Nov 2014 2:53pm
preemptive remembering
November's first week ends in an impossible palette
layered in lavenders back-lit in pink
with greens from the foreground
pulled through a spaghetti strainer
up passed the umbers and reds
dangling like leaves
blowing kisses to brown bark
not yet noon, and tonight promises of a blue
that the mystics chew on but cannot digest
it is announcing its emergence in light rain
everywhere is poetry and the pages lie empty
there is no more needing to know now
each...
layered in lavenders back-lit in pink
with greens from the foreground
pulled through a spaghetti strainer
up passed the umbers and reds
dangling like leaves
blowing kisses to brown bark
not yet noon, and tonight promises of a blue
that the mystics chew on but cannot digest
it is announcing its emergence in light rain
everywhere is poetry and the pages lie empty
there is no more needing to know now
each...
932 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by lightbaron
