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~....................................jupiter..................~
jumping
this clatter
announcing
gracious
stalk veneer
breathing
tinder valves
alive
beneath the cage
silken skin
smooth in sunlight
dappled limbs
leaning in the haze
of moment
book bent
hair strands
an ocean of arcadia
dreams
realms of scents
expensive
foriegn shored
bottle stored
wrist to clavicle
swept
borne
radiant arousal
sweaters weave
in lush alluvial
tints
love is a trickle
mirage lights
fickle..............
depths awake
the darkness
from the striation
afternoons
match
starfuzz
thick through
aged screen
the steam plants
eruption of slow
shadows
spewing visions
against
a carousel of
you
brilliant jewelled
giant
against sweet temples
touch
sleeps trigger
walking
such
errant laze
the rains
raise chills
upon your flesh
cool
craved
sumptious blue
pools
wetted like blacktop
fortunate arrival
sinking limp
the demarcation
hour
close dark the flitted
lids
fall through the lengths
fretful fall
to this dream
the schism
curled
while the winds
unfurl
the stars
Comments
IKnowNoBox
Wed, 2014-05-14 14:53
catchy as always
a hip beat, and almost lyrical write. somewhere between spoken work, and slam poetry. But with more imagery.
In ink,
david
Esker
Wed, 2014-05-14 22:39
stress..slept deprivationary...and chum mumble murmur.
fishing for the deep cruises
half partaken streets
and thoughts...opened doors
and books held out
with no titles
no words in their weight
rabbit holes
rabid voles
pepple struggle to get me to look into their eyes
and i know im intense...
the blue grey of these
my words feel thrust out
like a kit from a turret
jumping from a kite
a bus
a truck
the journey only begun
after the first long hundreds
miles..
delightful delium traumas
pay it no mind driver
drive on..
tired....but pushing forward
thank you
eightmenout
Wed, 2014-05-14 23:05
a word written
a word written
better than a sound forgotten
a trek is a sojourn
when no one comes with you
and
life has always been lonely
cause no one wants the thoughts
I keep
still i speak
despite the raking of fingernails
down the blackboard
tearing words into letters
I chose never to write
or to never send
what the fuck is the difference?
the words died
the roadkill in my dreams
bleeding out
as passersby gawk
but
keep on moving
I have but a choice
breath
or not
Scott
Esker
Thu, 2014-05-15 10:23
coffee....cigarette.....
slept in clothes for four days
wild hair
thoughts running deep
everything evolving
i do not accept surface value for truth
variants are all the angles
not just the deflection mirage of
social reality
and i think outside the box
and i write..poetry...other..
the joy and magic of this
is that there are not
many others..
im rare..
eightmenout
Thu, 2014-05-15 23:03
Indeed, sir
Indeed, sir
you are rare.
I fancied myself to be
one-of-a-kind,
but there's no truth
to that.
from time to time
I miss the rot in my gut
that the 2 am coffee left
while the chess board
stared back at me
taunting me to move
the first drag of a morning cig
the last puff before bed
if they were all like that in between
I would have never quit
coffee or cigarettes
but I left those vices behind
and stumbled the streets
my father paved
I used to think outside the box
no I can barely look beyond it
without fear
of what
I don't know
Probably that I'll never write again
I'm not a poet, although I want to be
I'm not a writer, although I want to be
I am not rare, although I think I used to be
some day, I think I'll try and go and find me.
I can't have gotten too far away.
Scott