The Loudest Discount – remixed

I am black and blue; bruised from the words that have bounced off of your back and slammed into me. My swollen eyes couldn’t make your face out of a crowd, but the way your hips sway, I could see you leaving for miles. My ears burn from the muffled hypocrisy that you spew, something … Continue reading The Loudest Discount – remixed

Murder in the thirst- Olde Punk

Olde Punk rocks my world. Dark and deep and so fkn good.

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Murder in the thirst

There is always the murmuring first

Anticipation is just the worst

Do you not think?

No do not speak

Why we brave the waste

There is ever aught but dust

And folly, ever the tides rush

Close to our feet

I’m trapped in the past

And I know you are the last

Of the crimson knights of defeat

Feel my heart beat

In time with the rhythm of demise

I despise and deplore

Blood on the floor and all over

Your precious face

Oh angel of disgrace

Never are you more beautiful

Than with the fear of death

Perfuming your breath

And heavy with the knowledge

Of my damned divine curse

Shadow clouds over the moon

As dawn and dusk meet

Clasping hands over the finality

I embrace you lovingly

The taste of your blood on my tongue

I listen to the dearest murmur

That escapes…

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You Can’t Disappear Here

Meet my new writer crush: David Augustus Smith
Jesus Christ, this is everything

The Severe Distraction of David Augustus Smith

You can’t disappear here, I am already gone, a ghost of my ideal self, person you wish to rescue you from the dark angles bearing down on you. I am a flame, a nightmare, a cloven-hoof vision that is inverted and bloody, woven into the patterns of a life that was lost in the rain, in the Spring, in a million deceptions, secrets, secrets, secrets…”everything will come out eventually.” They keep telling me that. I cringe and think about a stinging sensation in my neck, as I am inundated by unsolicited pep talk. 

Just another day. We all need one more day. It will all be okay tomorrow. Pinned-out eyes, ground-up teeth, the hours that repeat themselves–the eerie eternity. The silent misery, the collective sigh of death heaved on the shoulders of ants, and bees, killing themselves over labor, over love, over the nuanced mystery that leave us all in…

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Feather

misterkaki

IMG_20150816_183902380The first arrived
in an envelope incased,
nostrils flared, perfume.

The second, I guess,
may have been on that curious Corvid, in ‘Man at Crossroads’.

Third, held aloft, Blackbird,
on some wispy June evening,
sky yearning.

The fourth, let’s say, Phoenix.
Cast into a Samhain cauldron, let go and then surprise, risen again.

Fifth, in faith – if even a feather.
Of a new sun birthed, not of woman,
but this man, shaman, and the One.

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to Drink and to See You, Again

Do I need to drink to see you again, cut myself open again, to bleed you out in a rush? You’re gone now, packed up and left again, always fucking again, until again means nothing unless I drink and I drug, again, and I split the cosmos, again. Until I scream louder, again, and faster … Continue reading to Drink and to See You, Again

My Days Are Numbered

A golden oldie that just fits today

The Lithium Chronicles

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My moods have been predetermined and prescribed.
Seven tiny compartments measure my days.
Pink and orange match the sunrise
and taste bitter with my coffee.
I chase them with water so they
mellow in my blood,
as if water can render toxic harmless.
Yellow sticks in my throat every morning,
and steals my happiness before it can shine.
White dissolves under my tongue,
it can’t get in fast enough,
the impatient little fucker.
If white is late, I start to itch.
Blue makes me saddest of all.
Without blue, the rest is just candy,
and I will never sleep again.
I’m always packing a rainbow wherever I go.

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A slip of Heaven

I have seen sinners saved from bloody knees, and heard angels sing from holy things. But you, my love, are the bells that ring, in a heathen's choir when the devil sings. © Nicole Lyons 2017