Submissions by zenos_bullet
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I write for stairwells. I pen the moss, building on a concrete siding. I live always in layers.
DRUGS POEM
Published
16th Aug 2018 4:35am
16th Aug 2018 4:35am
Tungsten Cooled From the A/C and Minimized By the Bottle
Wind squabbles with the fields of flowers;
stems sway the other way on this day
of forgetting oneself in whiskey.
Here, on these conning pastures reside
a child who chats with his older self
about anything and everything.
He talks Tonka Trucks and Iron Tank
and makes himself full on tasty tarts
while his elder sits, smiling away.
Says he was lit with starry answers
found inside a tome about nothing.
But, somehow he still learned something new.
Shoves another slice of pie inside
his mouth and tells himself...
stems sway the other way on this day
of forgetting oneself in whiskey.
Here, on these conning pastures reside
a child who chats with his older self
about anything and everything.
He talks Tonka Trucks and Iron Tank
and makes himself full on tasty tarts
while his elder sits, smiling away.
Says he was lit with starry answers
found inside a tome about nothing.
But, somehow he still learned something new.
Shoves another slice of pie inside
his mouth and tells himself...
#alcohol
#nightmares
388 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
16th Aug 2018 4:30am
16th Aug 2018 4:30am
where the weeds remain low
at dawn, he sat
shackled in dreams, perusing
his grass, breathing
his crop, the rural watchmen.
varicose marked, a prisoner
to time, he waited for the Fall.
but, his descent
delayed, the seeds
were whole, the ground still wet.
so he tilled, awaiting
his turn, plowing
his fields, fighting for air.
at dusk, he sat
shackled in dreams, perusing
his grass, breathing
his crop, the pasture's antique.
shackled in dreams, perusing
his grass, breathing
his crop, the rural watchmen.
varicose marked, a prisoner
to time, he waited for the Fall.
but, his descent
delayed, the seeds
were whole, the ground still wet.
so he tilled, awaiting
his turn, plowing
his fields, fighting for air.
at dusk, he sat
shackled in dreams, perusing
his grass, breathing
his crop, the pasture's antique.
#death
#acceptance
340 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
9th Aug 2018 11:38pm
9th Aug 2018 11:38pm
Oil Reflections
Light, refractions, cone manipulations,
ROY G BIV;
hues collected in ripples with
slow-mo capture: a
rain
droplet
falling pristine, aquatic apostrophe
hanging on air, assimilates
to fluid dynamics, an artistry
in curved water couture.
Thereby, in apropos of her hair:
a gasoline pool unlit
rippled through the days, evolves
chromatically, an ever-florid
sensation to retinal pathways with
fast-forward motion. The
two
lips
embrace in perpetual, intervallic
pilfering of breathes, congregates ...
ROY G BIV;
hues collected in ripples with
slow-mo capture: a
rain
droplet
falling pristine, aquatic apostrophe
hanging on air, assimilates
to fluid dynamics, an artistry
in curved water couture.
Thereby, in apropos of her hair:
a gasoline pool unlit
rippled through the days, evolves
chromatically, an ever-florid
sensation to retinal pathways with
fast-forward motion. The
two
lips
embrace in perpetual, intervallic
pilfering of breathes, congregates ...
#love
375 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
4th Aug 2018 3:05am
4th Aug 2018 3:05am
Distance
Simulacrum in flux
of blue birds perched to a tree,
pistons running freely amongst
Colorado grey waves,
lips nibbled by mischievious teeth
underneath the hitchhiker's prison.
She's my arduous white line worth
the inhale, feet perched to the
dashboard, discarded Modelo
longnecks tattooing the asphalt
near our axled home.
We talked befores and afters in stills,
redroomed presents still
developing, the similar landscapes
we walked days in and out
drenched in bromothymol skyways
of a...
of blue birds perched to a tree,
pistons running freely amongst
Colorado grey waves,
lips nibbled by mischievious teeth
underneath the hitchhiker's prison.
She's my arduous white line worth
the inhale, feet perched to the
dashboard, discarded Modelo
longnecks tattooing the asphalt
near our axled home.
We talked befores and afters in stills,
redroomed presents still
developing, the similar landscapes
we walked days in and out
drenched in bromothymol skyways
of a...
#love
#regret
370 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
3rd Aug 2018 4:28am
3rd Aug 2018 4:28am
What We Truly Invent
He arranged the blueprint for his outing
on a fifty year table
and dusted off the seams in tenderness.
A fifty year plan, molded sharp
through concrete schematic,
precise pinpoints from a compass
to navigate the cylinders, perfect
lines drawn from once youthful hands
to veiny claws, yellowed fingers
finishing in arabesque light.
The articulate details grew
as his sight diminished, from
specs to cokebottle viewing
until his irises looked blotched
like runny egg whites
until the day mechanically...
on a fifty year table
and dusted off the seams in tenderness.
A fifty year plan, molded sharp
through concrete schematic,
precise pinpoints from a compass
to navigate the cylinders, perfect
lines drawn from once youthful hands
to veiny claws, yellowed fingers
finishing in arabesque light.
The articulate details grew
as his sight diminished, from
specs to cokebottle viewing
until his irises looked blotched
like runny egg whites
until the day mechanically...
#death
382 reads
2 Comments
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