We, the DeadWhen you put your arms around me, I crumble to ashWe, the Dead by Bark
Don’t you know that I’m dead?
The dead have no need for gestures of affection
We’re past all that now
Sure, we can fake a smile when necessary
Even speak of the future
But it’s all lies; we know there’s no future
The time for dreaming is gone
Tonight I’ll go through the motions of making love
Whisper sweet lies in your ear
And tomorrow I’ll get up and go to work
With all the other dead souls
Band-AidSmells like used bandages in a hospital room this morningBand-Aid by Bark
Antiseptic, with an underlying scent of fresh wounds
It wafts in as though the entire world were sick
Diseased, dying, but no one to save it
God, what a smell; it’s in my clothes, my hair
Crawling over my skin like ants
Consuming me, until I’m as diseased
As the world
OctoberDreamcake slips down the slideOctober by Bark
Third eye sees, lips crack
All the buses are blue here
You dreamed of me last night
I watched you from a million
Yellow raincoat dancing
Mother sends her love, I send
All the pumpkins are blue here
As Madness Bears Down Upon MeRoar of ocean to the westAs Madness Bears Down Upon Me by Bark
Screech of tinnitus to the east
Dark rumblings to the north
Faint scratchy old songs to the south
Somewhere children sing
At point zero, nothing at all
Save the noise of the city streets
Landlocked in nothingness
With no way to turn for relief
Caught in my own web
Where are the ancient gods?
Who will guide me from this inertia?
If I stare into the sun long enough
The spirit will move me
I will be sanctified
RememberedEach act immortalizes us,Remembered by homunculus888
like starburst lightning,
like dandelion seeds
in the w
the bali poems.i.the bali poems. by Meggie272
The waiter drew me a rose
I sweated profusely
In Indonesia, we ate
an abundance of
food- hot spicy rice, noodles slippery
with sauce; beef and pork, animal and salty-warm
mango juice the colour of the sun
iii. You cannot escape life
and you cannot escape hurt
but at least I am crying hot trembly tears here,
where the evening clings warm and the frangipanis
lace their scent through the breeze.
And the moon glows like an Impressionistic smear of paint
hazed over, indistinct.
Nights like this, I carry the universe in my eyes
and the ache of all that lives in my throat.
iv. In Bali, I thought
and I loved
and I felt a strange feeling, a knowledge
of myself that nowhere else gave to me.
Bali gave it to me, wrapped in the smell of
tropical flowers and the round pads
of a gecko's foot.
Soul SistersMy dear faraway-friend,Soul Sisters by Sammur-amat
The skies are beautiful tonight. Just endless horizons as far as my eyes can see, with breathtaking white clouds against indigo heavens and stars sparkling with hidden promises.
I can't sleep. And you know me, when I can't sleep, I think. And as I ponder, far-fetched or philosophically, I usually write. Right now, my head is a maze of thoughts; they are all crawling through, passing each other but not one stands out from the crowd. Like people in the urban jungle we call home.
In contrast to my racing mind, the wind whispers softly through the leaves as I write these words. It's silent and soothing, almost like ocean waves crashing upon sandy shores. I can almost hear the gulls cry above the mighty waters, free and soaring with their feathers in flight- ready to carry them everywhere.
You know, somehow birds resemble a feeling of friendship to me. (As I read that last sentence back, I wonder if this might be the late hour talking, and not me, but I'll go on neve
we marchwe march;we march by Sammur-amat
hailing from cavities filled with determination
and fruitless dreams shaken, not stirred
into our very own resilient rhythm,
comes our transformation from insignificant individuals
to "virtuous, momentous" society.
thriving with courage and dead chivalry, pike-eyed;
we live in servitude, fortitude for every day
is a new day, a new sun rising,
a virgin horizon to conquer
and put to test the palpable promise of our familial ties
and, as we sizzle in sweltering heat,
we stay busy keeping course,
bearing in mind that our fertile goddesses labor
alongside us, before us, for us;
birthing and binding almost every bit of this terra firma.
with our deeply dug out raw, ruby nails,
we set forth working from dusk to dawn
with every ounce of ourselves,
with our invasive trust in our collective working where
not one has ever escaped/gone astray.
along, mound minded as we push forward
till completion of our life cycle, we live each day;
minding no one
cloudhandedthey tell you that you're strong and youcloudhanded by wish-sticks
imagine them handing atlas the skies
and whispering the same thing;
you only wanted to put everything down for a few moments:
it is not weak to need to breathe in again, it is
not weak if your lungs cannot hold down saltwater
it is not weak
it is not weak
it is not weak