deepundergroundpoetry.com
... and suddenly, almost as always, it happened like this:
gray day, sullen sky, peeking into the room
pain bed, single body, TV, blanket
put his foot in the door, opened his chest,
combed the esteem and put on the most flowery smile
and left the inner astral hell.
ran to the hell of the street hoping for rain
waiting for a revealing abrasive sunbeam
but was distracted by enchanted birds
who flew poetry in dream orgasms
and the metamorphosed butterflies in freefall
leaving trails of coercive luminescence.
grazes and evasions of the night eyes
scourges, Sibyl, free fall, hell
what turns do the winds that reverse time
What do the storms that read in your eyes bring?
what intentions do the rays have to cut the dawn
and illuminating the slit of finger silk discovery?
the fear of freedom without magic and with illusion
of hands weave secrets diluted in daydreams
40º of dreams camouflaged on the pillow.
waiting is an open door in search of peace
this insipid heat of intense sweat and lavender
dilution of metals in alkaline media and nostalgia
mouth-to-mouth numbing scalp
so many folds and openings
So many secrets and gimmicks...
I took the dream and spanked it,
I died in pride once more
Even breathing your breath...
I left you abandoned.
abandoned and sad, it got dark without me
then I died, for a time that I could not measure
I asked for forgiveness I lost a pennon
I woke up very sleepy
I looked around still dizzy
and found myself in the insane same world.
PAR
pain bed, single body, TV, blanket
put his foot in the door, opened his chest,
combed the esteem and put on the most flowery smile
and left the inner astral hell.
ran to the hell of the street hoping for rain
waiting for a revealing abrasive sunbeam
but was distracted by enchanted birds
who flew poetry in dream orgasms
and the metamorphosed butterflies in freefall
leaving trails of coercive luminescence.
grazes and evasions of the night eyes
scourges, Sibyl, free fall, hell
what turns do the winds that reverse time
What do the storms that read in your eyes bring?
what intentions do the rays have to cut the dawn
and illuminating the slit of finger silk discovery?
the fear of freedom without magic and with illusion
of hands weave secrets diluted in daydreams
40º of dreams camouflaged on the pillow.
waiting is an open door in search of peace
this insipid heat of intense sweat and lavender
dilution of metals in alkaline media and nostalgia
mouth-to-mouth numbing scalp
so many folds and openings
So many secrets and gimmicks...
I took the dream and spanked it,
I died in pride once more
Even breathing your breath...
I left you abandoned.
abandoned and sad, it got dark without me
then I died, for a time that I could not measure
I asked for forgiveness I lost a pennon
I woke up very sleepy
I looked around still dizzy
and found myself in the insane same world.
PAR
Published 25th May 2023
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The author encourages honest critique.
25th May 2023 12:07pm
25th May 2023 1:13pm
25th May 2023 6:12pm
I love the details that grant dimensions like intense sweaty and lavender, alkaline media, the unconventional combinations that are revelatory such a revealing abrasive sunbeam. The poem has a sense of disillusionment and coming to terms, as I soak it in.
The fear of freedom without magic and illusion, to be stripped bare and find absence, it's a stark and resonant image.
There is a sense of the end of something in your opening, the way things end with a gathering up and abrupt departure, it establishes visual dimensions and intrigue immediately.
The details of rain, sunlight, freefall, it has a sense of collapsing and being swept up in forces, or perhaps the unspooling of forces.
There's a despair I'd say, to wake in the same insane world, the inescapable oubliette, its something I think about fairly often.
It's really evocative and beautifully, organically done my friend.
The fear of freedom without magic and illusion, to be stripped bare and find absence, it's a stark and resonant image.
There is a sense of the end of something in your opening, the way things end with a gathering up and abrupt departure, it establishes visual dimensions and intrigue immediately.
The details of rain, sunlight, freefall, it has a sense of collapsing and being swept up in forces, or perhaps the unspooling of forces.
There's a despair I'd say, to wake in the same insane world, the inescapable oubliette, its something I think about fairly often.
It's really evocative and beautifully, organically done my friend.
25th May 2023 6:35pm
I am thrilled and breathless. ❤️ 🙏 Thanks for the comments on my writing, it really helps me to keep on going further with my expression. Hugs, brother! 😊
