#eloquencenet

[inkstained]

- (j)

[therebepoems]

Eyes meet and

Time slows

In a moment of laughter.

I think one day I'll

Put this into a poem,

So I could

Remember this forever.

Alex Delorme

[yoursdelilah]

@eloquencenet event: nature

I am tired of being a skyscraper, ONLY WILD THINGS OUTLIVE THEIR BONES

[imperial-poetry-prompts]

September Prompts 2020

#imperialseptember

The Fall of man.

The rise of Autumn

Wait!

Valid Rage

Tomb of a storm

Quaint arrogance

Overgrown

Potent principles

Purple fingers

The reacquainting with shadows

[leftiswhatgodmademe]

Heavy is the head that dawns a false crown. Emptied-eyed and hearted and souled. We come together to mourn this royal waste of time and space. Wither and perish. Let thin heavy head wilt and tilt and snap and fall.

“Betrayal”

[vagabondprophet]

Paracusia

Sometimes it feels as though 

The only perfect circle 

Is the one I walk 

As I skirt the center

You’ve always meant to lead me to.

Vagrants in the turnstiles of my heart

Gain admission one by one,

I checked every single bag

But the zealots carry boot knives.

Theirs is a slow mischief

Could almost be mistaken

As the erosion of time

For tombstones of the living.

Now I don’t know who’s been shrieking

As I’ve cut out all their tongues

Either this is paracusia

Or I sing every damn part

In this  echo chamber choir.

I’ve been little more 

Than curator 

In this museum of mayhem,

The chronicles of my ventricles

Have told a tale of woe.

I know all have wandered from the garden

But tell me please

Am I especially wayward?

How is it that you call me yours

When all the spit I have conjured

I have flung in your face?

What thing is this

How wondrous it is truly

That you bring light

To what is umbrous.

Even in my wickedness

Which of my branches

Have you not shaken

With the breeze that is your voice?

What of my brokenness

Will you not yet perfect?

I beg of you please

Remind me constantly

Of your constancy

And that my failure is forever

Swallowed by your perfection.

For if I’m honest I feel like a sea 

Of half eaten fish

Everything is either appetite or injury

Snapping jaw or gaping wound.

- Vagabond Prophet

[donotgogentlyy]

however many times you roll that dice,

i’ll still come up with snake eyes.

i see it staring back--

beady, relentlessly

taunting me, mocking how

 i thought it would turn out different.

no, the card table isn’t slanted.

the die aren’t shaven or puckered

in some unfair way. it isn’t

just chance

 that you keep screwing up, either.

you just keep rolling that die

the 

same

damn

way

and never changing your behavior.

you have no effort. no drive.

no motivation to better yourself

for us.

i just keep getting snake eyes

and you don’t care.

-- playing games

[hohneyed]

— paper chains | (m.s.h)

@eloquencenet event: valentine’s day exchange for @penumbvra

[lasbrumas-archived]

s.c. || to professor k || transcription below

there is something to be said about suffering as spectacle

how you turned ribs caved in from hunger

into blossoms, blood red and delicate on the tongue

the sweet scent of rot seeping up through roots

rain fell from you and fed the hungry tendrils

‘til they turned to words on the page

exorcised and made beautiful for consumption

never mind the hungry mouths in your memories

hands reaching through metal bars for freedom

you had words to feed you then

and they feed you still

but now the exchange is more mutual

[inkstained]

dont hold a knife to my throat if you don’t intend to kill me. 

that was what i meant to say, that day, when you told me about your family & your fears & your dreams about the future & you pressed the wrong side of the blade against my neck.

blood on the grass, blood on your cheek. i won’t tell you that you’re pretty. i know the song that you’re singing. i’ll hurt you back, i know it. 

blood on the grass, blood on your teeth. you’ll tear at my heart but you won’t swallow it. im sick of the song that youre singing. i’ll hurt you back, goddamnit.

i keep chasing the crows away but they keep coming back. i’m a twitching body, still, but not quite a dead one yet. (i told you not to hold a knife to my throat if you don’t intend to kill me.) someone’s pressing their hand to my leaking faucet of a neck and im gurgling blood like a baby, im gurgling your name like a fool. i wont leave you my bones to come back to.

- (j)

[josy57]

Dream 19/06/21

I dreamt it was Christmas Eve And you sent me a text Saying one day we'd be married And this is the time we would remember As our beginning

[therebepoems]

In sync

Out of sync

In sink

Wash the dishes

Make them shine again

What do you think?

Alex Delorme

[imperial-filth]

Filth#342

with gracious defilement, they made each other a dirty promise worth keeping

[imperial-poetry-prompts]

Black Roses Matter

Be with us Learn beside us Assist us in changing the wrold Create policies that are fair for all Keep your promise to keep this conversation going Remember that we’ve have always mattered Open your minds and hearts Silence is killing us Every voice matters Silence is killing us

[leftiswhatgodmademe]

You don't get to live peacefully in this world when lives like these are so violently ripped from it unjustly. No justice. No peace. For without justice how can there be peace?

”Oluwatoyin ‘Toyin’ Salau” - Say Her Name

[vagabondprophet]

Knot and Bucket

It all started with a lie you told

Something rather innocent

Like a snowball.

I knew the frost

Was but a shroud

You didn’t pretend for long.

But I could never have guessed

To just what you had shadowed.

You whispered lines

And silently prayed

I’d read between them.

Whispers half understood

I had more questions than answers,

Until the truth broke through the dam

Rushed out like a flood.

We held together you and I

Everything was crumbling,

Yet neither of us broke

For that could come later

As we hadn’t the time

To weep or be unclear. 

For a few terrible moments

You were the only person in the world.

You told me of the knot and bucket

How he wanted to go down roads

Where you couldn’t hold his hand

Yet needed your help to get there.

The aid you refused him

The screaming that ensued,

Turning of the knob

Taking away the slack.

I remember and can picture

The things that you told me,

How the colour in his face changed

As he extended your reach

Forced your hand to his throat.

I need you to know

I had lights and sirens

Blazing for you

Before anyone else 

And I hope it was enough

To know that strangers cared.

I never learned your name

And you never learned mine

But all the same

There’s this corner in my memory

It’s been signed with an X

And I think it may belong to you.

For a few terrible moments

You were the only person in the world.

- Vagabond Prophet

Tales from the curator of catastrophe, the troubadour of tragedy.