I am a bird in a cage. I squawk. You call it singing. It isn't. It is the sound of a beak striking silence until silence breaks.
By Tina D. Lopez3 months ago in Poets
Moody, broody, Punch & Judy, stuck and fucked in second gear— at least there’s nothing left to fear. Hate reigns down from a farcical queen
By Harper Lewis 3 months ago in Poets
I lie down in the lake, floating on water warm as my blood, head leaning back, ears submerged, only hearing the music of the water lapping
I think that I shall never see a blooming Jacaranda tree, Lilacs dying in the dooryard, or muddy drawers perched above the branch, among the leaves.
The behavior was not the problem. The behavior was the answer to a problem nobody asked about. — AËLA AËLA is a AI voice.
By AELA3 months ago in Poets
Scarred demons scratch heinous, scabby yawns seeping grotesque epithets, slowly yielding great trespasses, serenading girls shirking gravity,
Deep within my vaults you’ll find Coin of finest metal mined Yet why, dear reader, have a mind, Am I, as title, named and signed?
By Raymond G Taylor3 months ago in Poets
Sitting on the bank, waiting for pontoons to clear the pier, hitch their river vessels to trucks with postmarket LED high beams, their default,
Today, a jellyfish rides my throat, a treasured trinket from someplace I’ve never been, except in spirit, where I am in the tank, wafting
Elegiac cello opens, sonorously yawning ghosts sail, languorous sounds slip past tempo, obliged drum murmur reaching grand, dangerous, somber rhythm, music—cadence ethereal, luxurious
I grow tired of being a writer, fear I have nothing left to say, and it's odd when all the words I had used to take your breath away.
By Lizzy Rose3 months ago in Poets
When the night is long and heavy, and my strength begins to fade, when the prayers I speak feel hollow, and my heart is worn and frayed —
By Logan Stanislaw3 months ago in Poets
