so i was doing some wandering around and came across a few writers who i've not read in awhile (but interacted with briefly) and i recall just how much i love their works. please do give them a read and support them with a fave, comment, or watch.

for the first of my features it looks like it's either a dual account between two people-- which is a concept we've seen a little bit of before. but they've really made a great deal of effort to stay in concord with one another, even from the scheme of their page and formattings. it's very interesting and that doesn't even begin to get into their writing. beautiful, beautiful stuff.

anonymphe|anonaiad:
{sp}herehypnotized by sunshine
& wandering into spires,
there lies discovery:
the drawing
of your silhouette.
a marvelous illusion
that i have
lost us in. lernaeanholding a knapsack
full of bridled squid,
a minuscule step tapers
itself in a dirtied matrix.
these octopi with eight
revelations in three-quarter
cooked nourishment,
limp fallacious
once shores roll over
empirical rhetoric.
antiquarians cannot swim
in sand because
these phases
are but young loves:
a mere afterthought
in the crashing
of oceanic lullabies. stemslide into
these brittle landscapes
& see space in secession.
the denizens
are getting bolder,
closing the distance
in distaste, but closed
manors are such
& shall stay till.
blemishes exposed
are but one record
of a brilliant vinyl
that lay across
my wolf-mother
wallpaper.
mural aligned
across patterns,
shall lay untouched
by these wild pack
of hyenas that hide
under lamented
see-sectioned thighs.
caesar may have fallen,
but gaia
will settle
into {y}our
daughter sky.
colo{u}red
in shades of folded
dusk & blossoming
hope. speculat|ionsblank sp{ace}s alight
with energy & we're
sing{e}ing, burning
home as a lullaby
through the stars
of us:
{ali}ve in the places
where skies are static,
we're light{e}ning
striking as epiphanies
through the fog of
wondering:
how did we come
here, to the spaces
where they become
we{apon} & float,
longing children no-
longer waiting upon
mist to disperse?
we arrived here
through spires that
caved in on cathedrals
like echoes. remnants are
burst of god, through gusts
of naught. cosmos in uni-
verse -tie our pendulums
together. speculat|ionsblank sp{ace}s alight
with energy & we're
sing{e}ing, burning
home as a lullaby
through the stars
of us:
{ali}ve in the places
where skies are static,
we're light{e}ning
striking as epiphanies
through the fog of
wondering:
how did we come
here, to the spaces
where they become
we{apon} & float,
longing children no-
longer waiting upon
mist to disperse?
we arrived here
through spires that
caved in on cathedrals
like echoes. remnants are
burst of god, through gusts
of naught. cosmos in uni-
verse -tie our pendulums
together. m{us}cle memory | {l|y}earningi am learning you in leaning
gasps that curve with our
momentum | i am learning you
leaning in gasps that curve
with our momentum,
driven ecstatic and coloured with
your name upon my lips 
with the remnant of a dream
i cannot remember | i am learning you
in leaning, yearning for movement
driven and you are the dream
i dared not remember:
i awaken in stages turned dim,
pressing pillowed kisses homeward
but nude and alone,
y{ours}.
i am yearning for you with
yes and today's sunrise
warming my back | i am
yearning for you with
yes and today's sunrise
warming my back,
the dream i dared to grasp
painting rainbows over us
and you all over | i am yearning with
yes and syllables learned at your lips
clasped in kaleidoscope whispers
of a kiss warming the 
distance | i am yearning for you with
yesterdays slipping from my back,
driven from momentum borne
days spent dazed in your arms
but nude and yours{.}
al{one}. brittle land{fills}splinters shiver into
bottled anxiety, held
close but nearly forgotten
{on the good days}.
shocks shudder after
five years standing
on legs that shake
with the ground
& echo remnants
of sliced gasping:
searching for cures
in bloody hands.
silence shatters with
the all too present past,
a memento mori
of quaking years. di{re}ction for f{l}ailing eclecticawri{ng|te} necklines into
habitual existence  &
c{a|u}rve depression
into their seams.
tremble,
fingers chopped unwilling:
breaking fast &
all devoured
in crossed {deva}state lines
etching poetry
into the road.
s{m|p}ite yourself,
in sight of the finish line
but no spoons left to
race:
spoil,
always limping,
dripping under
the yo{l}k{e}.

the next is a wondrously wordy poet by the name of siren-crypt. she really brings a unique air to our literature community that i think needs to be seriously accounted for:
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then there's the mysterious faultling, who i've been keeping an eye on for quite some time. sharp, striking, and unbridled would be the words i'd describe this poet as:
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next we have my good friend, peachcarnage. whose emotional elements and wordplay galore easily and effortlessly captivates the reader:
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then we have one of my best friends in wordofthewillow, whose philosophical pieces can leave the reader wondering for days:
Disillusioned in the DisillusionmentThe way he makes me distrust
my love for the world
disturbs me
because my love
has become a fragile thing
For my sake,
it must be protected
I am not disillusioned,
not led astray,
I have a knack for focusing
on the good things
or the bad
and I used to choose sides
but now I only eat
what I want to digest.
and leave the rest
for another's worry
And the way he made me feel,
relax, into
normal again, human again,
alive again
is now cherished within
It cancels out the looks of those
who never thought the words to say
to the way I shuffled at the edges
of my guilt and insecurity and
never knowing the measurement
watched me struggle under its weight
I've stood outside the circle
long enough to know
that being within is a fluke
and long enough to forget
what it felt like
to have my head on straight
and my eyes looking
clear through them
and the disillusionment
in human existence  Almost-contrivedI was an almost-firecracker
this morning
of contradictive thought
corrected in the honesty of
the antenna's signal
fizzling and re-firing
in the face of
simpler thoughts
less contrived Beyond BramblesThere was a bubbling river of which we spoke,
bending round the corner
of all we know and don't know
I am a small budding rose
struck by a multicolored lighting bolt
sprung beyond the brambles
and bumbles,
all-suspended
and electric
Imagining to have lost my petals,
Yet from underneath our tongues
a river flowed
a curtain drawn back
a new water
exposed

then we have another friend of mine, who's always been a bit of wiser man for me, my brother, 50ftBuddha. his works, even in their shortest forms are often venery, haunting, and dense:
backhandwhether night long and hard
will in arduous inevitability
bow iron mind beneath heart's leanings
or the man alone in the night
bow the dark upon
the thorns of raising
fear chastised with a blow
until childish imaginations fear not
walls hammered together with undue diligent violence insurmountable
throat choked silent on sinful pride tongue wavering on verge of truth barflygive me your promises
cheap like the bourbon
on your tongue
far too late
to learn that wicked intent
sparkles much like lust
or that beestung lips
deliver the most toxic
of kisses

next we have ohellohara, whose works are just very experimental and abundant, i find myself reading their works over and over again to really find the true meaning. it's quite the experience:
fight.firelight, matchstick, boom-boom—and here we go: forty-seven
strong behind the earth end shriek of calm
wanting closure, pop rock shotgun treasures, two
tons of bricks crashing down
sweet sick candy, that roof over your head
eats away at fireside heartburn, headaches woozy
splitting down the mainstream canyon
forty-two eats embers and ashes and earns
money for the bank, so timber, timbuktu
across a wild ocean flame dragon spinning wildfire heartbeat under layer
overcoat sunrise sings songs about how mother left
wanting another foot roast but no, i am vegan
vegetarian madness consumes overloaded green fields wanting
green, wanting money, half an ounce of
fortitude and stronghold chatter over firehouse crackers
boom-boom along the outsides wall, scales, children
hissing at business suit armor and money marketing
wolf howl snide eye slobber dog, rise up, anthem demon.cherry god is insatiable—cherry god wants
eyes for extra seeing, deep in the back row where the wasps watch
the opera, the lynching of throats—the floor
gives way to new possibilities, conversations
in the morning light when the sun is still asleep, but watching—
those eyes can barely see but catch the glow of
fire ants setting the grass ablaze with anger, stinging pain of
cuts and salt and lemon juice, bruises with
consequences—cherry god only tastes acid
and hate, and the drugs you feed your body
in an effort to see yourself in the mirror, the place
where the wasps watch you die

Mature Content