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Literature Text
Interstellar Lullaby
i.
call it what you will,
be it minutes or hours of
decaying skin,
call it what you will,
be it minutes or hours of
decaying skin,
or babylon’s legacy
passed down in stories and legends,
word of mouth or the slightest touch
passed down in stories and legends,
word of mouth or the slightest touch
ii.
the blood of the fables,
flow throughout your veins,
trailing down your arms to your wrists,
the blood of the fables,
flow throughout your veins,
trailing down your arms to your wrists,
tips of your digits rearing your claws,
tearing black holes into infinity,
as your vision looks to leave your own tale,
in this ocean of emptiness.
tearing black holes into infinity,
as your vision looks to leave your own tale,
in this ocean of emptiness.
iii.
tide’s out, and it’s been that way for awhile now-
but honey, tides don’t move in the middle of the desert,
you have to build them to flow between rooftop jungles
and hope they’re as good as the originals,
because that’s as close as you’ll ever get
tide’s out, and it’s been that way for awhile now-
but honey, tides don’t move in the middle of the desert,
you have to build them to flow between rooftop jungles
and hope they’re as good as the originals,
because that’s as close as you’ll ever get
so drown in the sweet smell of silk road smoke,
and bright spices welcoming you to sin city
and bright spices welcoming you to sin city
iv.
then it finally hits you,
like a spacecraft crashing down to earth
carrying extraterrestrials and connivance.
then it finally hits you,
like a spacecraft crashing down to earth
carrying extraterrestrials and connivance.
the origin may never be duplicated,
but you’re not shooting for zenith with pistols,
but ether with an M65,
atomic prepared to destroy cosmic.
you will be greater than
but you’re not shooting for zenith with pistols,
but ether with an M65,
atomic prepared to destroy cosmic.
you will be greater than
fading flowers and spring light, you are here,
at this moment, you are the gates of babylon
and yet an Ottoman’s blade, one place
and times apart. just roll the dice,
or make up your mind. will it be
at this moment, you are the gates of babylon
and yet an Ottoman’s blade, one place
and times apart. just roll the dice,
or make up your mind. will it be
lush jungles in a golden age or
wars waged without the means
but overfilled with need?
wars waged without the means
but overfilled with need?
v.
with the need of sanguine spills,
and hills of green--
but not of grass swords.
no, you want glass shards
scattered along dirt,
as your fingers grease
from the oil of your greed
you stay hungry
with the need of sanguine spills,
and hills of green--
but not of grass swords.
no, you want glass shards
scattered along dirt,
as your fingers grease
from the oil of your greed
you stay hungry
for adventure, for change quicker than the seasons
you can’t be graced with fallen leaves, but you’ve heard stories
of forests that set themselves alight without heat,
of fields buried beneath blankets of frost
romanticizing the revolution around the sun, the turn
of axis without the violence nature always portrays
no, your time traveling ways forget witch hunts,
swarms and devastated crops. you miss
the tragedy beside the beauty
you can’t be graced with fallen leaves, but you’ve heard stories
of forests that set themselves alight without heat,
of fields buried beneath blankets of frost
romanticizing the revolution around the sun, the turn
of axis without the violence nature always portrays
no, your time traveling ways forget witch hunts,
swarms and devastated crops. you miss
the tragedy beside the beauty
and thank god for it,
thank god for the devil,
for the ice and flames,
for time and space,
thank god for the devil,
for the ice and flames,
for time and space,
he personified him in you.
which ‘he’ is interchangeable--
which ‘he’ is interchangeable--
to you, it’s all the same
because your thirst for transmutations
and metamorphosis is hereditary,
as you feel your chakras open
and your third eye above is ringent.
possibly from where gravity pushes you,
in the same direction you wish to shove the rest of us.
and metamorphosis is hereditary,
as you feel your chakras open
and your third eye above is ringent.
possibly from where gravity pushes you,
in the same direction you wish to shove the rest of us.
vi.
we are visceral, slowed reactions and
only building blocks. atoms, molecules,
their importance is of little value once
you have the end result in hand
we are visceral, slowed reactions and
only building blocks. atoms, molecules,
their importance is of little value once
you have the end result in hand
once you transcend the laws and restrictions
alchemy leaves you. it matters not when you’re ashes
but still, you pine for the riches of culture
and knowledge and above all: the riches of
turning lead into gold
alchemy leaves you. it matters not when you’re ashes
but still, you pine for the riches of culture
and knowledge and above all: the riches of
turning lead into gold
(and you do, you do.)
vii.
gold unlike medallions lined with it,
and not like that of a soul,
but that of stars.
spheres of plasma that eventually,
eventually will fade away,
but it fits.
gold unlike medallions lined with it,
and not like that of a soul,
but that of stars.
spheres of plasma that eventually,
eventually will fade away,
but it fits.
you don’t care about its inhabitants,
you want to be the space.
endless and nothing less.
stars are nothing but dust.
you want to be the space.
endless and nothing less.
stars are nothing but dust.
Literature
sleep
the boy with the kaleidoscope hands
offers me a revolver and we take turns
smothering plumes of breath and killing
lapselands.
bags of grieving skeletons hang from your
cliff eyes, dreading the moment
when they will have to fly.
Literature
Space Blankets
Purple clouds
draped over crescent hips--
bashful twin moons.
Literature
canapes
canapés
people devour
all-you-can-eat buffets
undeterred by the grease
and excesses and after the binge,
they stick a toothbrush
down their throats.
note to self:
emotions are just as fattening.
at the rate we are going,
i fear you will tire of me.
so please love me in bite sizes,
in portions to sustain us
through birthdays and christmases
and in servings
where you savour me
the way i savour you.
© 01.November.2013 :house:
Suggested Collections
As the lovely toxic--sunrise put it, we wrote a thing. Based off of the prompts (and number[s]): hereditary, babylon. 3, 7
Honestly, I had zero clue where we were gonna go with those two words or those numbers (7 was not used, well not actively used.), but after about 10 minutes of preparation and an hour worth of writing, Star and I made this. Pretty wicked stuff and I'm really proud of this collaboration. toxic--sunrise is brilliant and she is yet another poet that brings out parts of my poetry I don't always exhibit on my own. It was an honor working with such a talent and we must do it again.
I hope you all enjoy this late night submission and please, do yourself a favor and go check out toxic-sunrise. She's so, so good.
toxic--sunrise wrote all that is in italics and what I wrote is normal. (Although I hope by now you guys can differentiate my writings from most. )
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Comments24
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*flails* well I just found a collab between two of my favorite people!! This is sooooo great, you and toxic--sunrise really fit together nicely. I felt like you two were writing in two different time periods, and they ended up meshing together to create one amazing work of art, and its beautiful, and I love it. Yeah.