Kitten's Litter

Well done.
My what a pleasure to embrace kismet,
a sovereign sharing with other universes,
to return with visions gleaned from our inner quests ~~*

 

Great poem, I WRITE BUT NOT THAT GOOD YET, your very talented

 

So sincere and full of feeling. Great poem.

 

Locked arms
behind the back
lost key and

gagged.

Swollen tongues
and heaving lungs,

our strings untie.

I roll over peaks
and plummet,
the crescent lips
bow to slide

under.

Impregnated eyes
gouge out
to release a silent

sigh.

 

i thought this thread had cats in it

 

.

 

I miss the ache and anger,
the bitterness of being not the one

I miss the charity of your consideration
when accidental touch
could promise momentary love.

I want to be alarmed and triggered off.

I never learn not to return
or trust.

Now I reconstruct your close-up,
with jigsaw particles of chemical debris,
your solid gaze is like a sum
of foreign constellations,
it declares distance,
guards
and yet invites.

 

Crickets scratch on the walls,
scrape the tissue
and the sides of my skull.

The Jerusalem sky
may crush me,
as I loll in the red light
district gutter.

Startled strays avoid encounter,
shadows flinch away.

Clenching temples,
I want to squeeze
the crickets out
before I burst
in the endless
sound.

 

My mother stifles cries all night
then in the morning she hides
the swollen eyes.

Tragedy must be the spice of life
and irony laughs at all.

I know the truth and when I face it
I can’t help but suffer
alongside with her.

 

What
About Death?

It is hibernation in smoke,
in the mind’s eye
it is a condensation of
arbitrary sketches.

False memories
define episodes
of experience,
an absurdity
where there are no laws
and yet the promises
are broken
and bystanders are
chastised for being
at the wrong place at the right time.

What
About Life?

We are caught,
windswept
into a cobweb
and struggling to
reach out
before exhaling
a last breath.

It all comes down to
a padded network
that can assure
our existence
is not a waste of
resources and time.

We search for a
futile meaning
in every abstract remark,
deem ourselves upstanding,
for every altruistic-egotistic
act.

Complications are our forte
as we pretend to understand
each other
but instead we'd rather
buy into
the social slant.

So embedded and isolated,
it's impossible
to budge and step outside
the self-made coffer.

For now we
hibernate in comfort
of a mutual mind fog.

 

the years ahead of you will not be easy.

 

Great form and content, there, KittenX.
I'm happy to see your pouring out both
quantity and quality again.

 

-rekindle- rocks! i know that feeling quite well

liked -paradox- and -terrorist- very mucho as well.... the last longer one had more of a prosaic feel, to me, but I identify with the philosophies there as well... very similar thematically to that mist and mirror one I posted recently....

and I agree with sylvan, it's fantastic to see new stuff from you! kudos!

 

Harmony, even in dissonance.

 

With a wispy lisp,
she does not speak
instead her dialogue
is like a tango
of syllables
taking off
from the tongue,

childlike
she’d pout her lips,
or all of a sudden
blare a tenacious smug,
maneuver daring,
clever eyes
through a ravenous crowd.

They will indulge
in her presence,
oblige
in hopes of rewards.

Such a divine,
treacherous gender,
she clearly knows
the subtle supremacy,
the inevitable tendency
to manipulate all
who come in contact
and fall prey
to the undeniable
charm.

Although
she’s been a victim,
acknowledged
feminine faults
to avoid conflict
and earn respect,

she has tamed
the brittle pride of
those
who could never suspect
that
she has always been
one step ahead.

 

-femme- get's a big yes! beautiful on all fronts, looks like you've warmed up well and are feelin the flow! great selective use of rhyme and your line breaks are perfectly placed... enjoyed this one immensely.... thx for getting going again!

 

the placement of "instead" in the first stanza nearly gave me a heart attack

good going

 

Yvars caught the mood altering momentum,
when the news splattered blood.
And so all over the nation, in every house
the broadcast amplified the chaos,
the inferno of wailing mothers
and shots of small bodies snapped.

Yvars saw himself in every face
and at once he was blown apart,
the seconds paused - lingered in a blink,
until receptors finally caught up

His eyes were paralyzed
and tongue turned cotton,
as he gagged in an attempt to scream
at the screen full of aimless comets .

Yvars was aghast,
as he glanced out the window
at the red dust sky,
he convulsed
from the fact that he was still alive.

In that instant somewhere above,
the swollen stars collapsed.

 

Femme was absolutely terrific! But like in a perfume shop..I can't take in too many at once. (((((KittenX)))) You are always amazing.

 

Cold weather, crisp air
and
secondhand smoke
remind me of shadows
in vain prowling corners,
in search of nothing at all.

But as I inhaled the town,
I fumbled with times
when those shadows
were the burnt out people
I worshiped.

And I don’t know now
whether it’s better to
let the dead rest
or try to dig up the bones
in feeble attempts
of resurrecting the past.

It’s tempting
to gather yesterday's ash,
to nourish the flames
with sparks of flashbacks.

but maybe none of this happened,
maybe no one ever existed
or
mattered.