Communion…

can I stay here?
just capture this moment
peer into it
like a self-inflicted wound
wondering if the wellspring
of crimson before my eyes
is mine?
close lids and fall back into the dark
listen through flesh
chest to chest
her heartbeat
against my doppelganger rhythm
like the resonating pulse
of a bell
my cathedral between her breasts
an ache to confess sins
I’ve yet to commit
and receive absolution
upon the tip of her tongue
my penance within the depths
of her eyes
I can get no closer to God
than this

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Ave imperato morituri te salutant!

Horns blare
Gate goes up
step into the sun
the mob jeers my entrance
I’ve carved my family crest
into my thigh
with this pathetic rusty blade
like in Herbert’s “Dune”
They don’t like that
I’m supposed to belong to them
my legacy at their behest
I breathe at their pleasure
Flying sand!!
I explode into fury
must keep their favor
Victory is life
Upper guard!
turn, riposte!
overhead chop!
a new nick for the blade
guard left
advance
feint right
dodge left
I’m wounded
superficial
deflect up
reverse grip
backhand slice
press the attack!
another feint
left side
an opening!!!
deep cut
staggering backward
defense is down
spin left
adjust grip
powerhouse swing
FATAL STRIKE!!!!
arterial spray
Close my eyes
I shower in crimson, salt, and copper
turn to the podium
raise my blade
mob roars
no fear
no remorse

bow

turn

exit

I fight again

tomorrow

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Remittance…

Rodin – The Gates of Hell

“What would you do for me?” She asked

As the night wind tangled the strawberry blonde across her shoulders

“What would you do, if I should give you my heart?”

“What weight of rich man’s gold could come by the wagon load to pay for such a prize?”

“Do you think you can summon all the stars from the sky for me”

“For so Immortal a gift, would you give me the heart of the universe in return?”

She reached out
and taking his hands into hers, noticed for the first time
the deep scars in his palms

and to the question that flared in her eyes, at such a sight, he said

“They are from the first time your soul and mine were separated by death”

“I burned them on the gates of hell”

“As I went to bring you home”

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Flamethrower Heart

Anyone who has read my poetry knows I love to add a little sci-fi into it every now and then.
Kindra has won my interest and my heart with this piece. I love it so much because of the powerful impact it has as well as the elements that I love to incorporate into my own work.

Please visit her page and look at some of her other works! She’s a fantastic wordsmith with a beautiful and artistic way of expressing herself.

Kindra M. Austin

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I

I, girl-child

Deconstructed

Mother fix me

In your image

Go for the kill

Words are systematic

Reconstructed

Reassure you

Own my image

Go for the kill

I will be good

Words are systematic

 II

Glitch in the program

I am fifteen, black as rage

Against…

Words are systematic

You lacked my level

And I grew tired

You reeled me back in

Words are systematic

 III

I am good wife

Subservient

Mechanical

Learned behavior

Thanks to you, Mom

Words are systematic

Fuck when he wants

Eat when he wants

Sleep when he wants

Cry when he wants

Run when he wants

Words are systematic

 IV

Daughter, just a babe

Speaks to me the loving truth

And I break my bonds

I break the circle

I break free

See my flamethrower heart

I am mother lioness

I am real LOVE

I am individual

I am woman

I am truth

See my…

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But, I am no temple…

When I think about what I want my Poetry to leave behind and what I want to do with it…THIS! This is what I ultimately want from my poetry. To inspire, to fan the flames of other magnificent people in this world and kindle their own ability to write with their heart. For this wonderful and beautiful woman to see herself in something I’ve written and to produce this to match it. No, not match, to build upon and surpass what I have written. I can’t describe what an honor this is and how much it fills my heart with joy. This is what I want my words to do and I’m beyond words to describe how happy this makes me.

If you have not visited her before, I encourage you to go and see what how bright and powerful her fire is.

Bold, Beat... &Nipless

(I wrote this in response to Temple, by Eric from My Sword and Shield!!! Please check his piece out, and all of his work as he as inspired me to think out the box so many times!)

You see me as your temple? but if only you knew me a few years back? it would probably fuck up your mental?

Would adoration be offered if you knew me when I was a shack? So open and broken? when self love and respect was what I lacked?

I used to let the village use me? so desperate to be occupied, the overwhelming blasphemy I allowed to invade my walls and later on led to just confuse me..

Okay?okay? no need to to dwell on it? I caught wind of the deceit? I emptied out what they made of me? found my self and somewhat got back on my feet?…

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Temple…

Her heart
is an artifact
of ancient days
of golden greek fire
in sunsets
and the fickle smile
of a summer goddess
brown waves woven
between a wreath of laurels
and the roaring adulation
of an adoring congregation
voices raised in prayer
runes drawn in the dust
as I untie her sandal straps
the majesty of
cream marble colonnades
statuary depicting her sweet form
flourishing in graceful concert
carved with my heretical hand
from inky quills
dipped in the darkest colors
of her eyes
written by the deepest echoes
of my blood

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Memory…

I miss you
not the illusion of these temporary places
where are souls are trapped
I miss the electrical backlash
of our flesh meeting
strength sapping sting
grounding out into a dull ache and deep breaths
I miss the wind
weaving the dark threads of your hair
into the stubble at my cheeks
the way it would feel that I was anchored to you
the way I knew my heart would always be
I miss the days when nothing
but the sea
could come between us
and I would tear pages
from my heart
and send them floating back to you
on the salty surface
I know my eyes have created these waters
and I hope that every tear I shed
increases the odds that
one day this all becomes a raging ocean
and I will
standing on my flotsam island
finally sink beneath the waves
and surrender to the crushing black

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Waypoint…

here
in a back country crossroad
in the low hanging haze
of a hot summer night
my footfalls are drowned
by the roar of cicadas
near an old oak
with the august moon
caught high in its branches
she sat side-saddle
on a weathered fence
she noticed the bloody quill
in my back pocket
and jumping down from her perch
the ground boiled around her toes
she said she could see
the blood of the bards
flowing in my veins
and I sold my soul
for a wink from her emerald eye
and a white-hot kiss
from her poetic lips

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Blood Into Ink Writing Prompt Challenge: Blood Letting/Eric Syrdal

So grateful to be posted on this amazing site. Thank you to Christine as a host and as a wonderful poet I am proud to know.

Blood Into Ink

once again
she
summoned to this place
against her will
never shy from battle
never austere
in the face of consequence
ever rising up against
that which would seek
to pin a name tag on her
significance

yet again she finds
she is brought back
to answer for deeds of which
she is guiltless
the crime is tied
to the drawing of steel
ambition to claim
far beyond what the universe
decides is available

pursuit of oneness of mind
control over her vital organs of reproduction
more so
to decide
reliant upon her own free will
to cover her curves
behind plates of iron
hard armor protects supple skin
from the caustic glare of
an angry and jealous world

or might she
remove her breastplate
and cast it to the earth
her vorpal blade
slicing effortlessly through
the hide straps that
cling it to her
the metal clanging to the

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A Room So Still and Quiet It Hurts: A Collaboration of Warriors

So honored to be part of this amazing group of poets to deal with a subject so critical to the existence of human kind. We need to understand depression better, what it does to us and how we can help each other along its broken path.

Blood Into Ink

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In memory of Chester Bennington and Chris Cornell and all that wrestle with the demon of depression and have walked too close to the edge of the abyss.

Christine Ray

In a room so still and silent

That it hurts

Stark white walls

Razor sharp edges

Etch my soul

Draw blood

That drips slowly

soundlessly

From my mouth

I am trapped

Like a fly in amber

Time stands still

The air is thick

Holds me motionless

In this prison cell

I feel vibration

A silent scream building

From my depths

Rachel Finch

Barricaded, her aura stifles

in the quiet.

Walls closing in, silence

penetrating.

Her mind internally

burning, blistering.

His voice a faint echo,

worlds away.

Rana Kelly

I tell them they’re lying,

The monsters that cling

To the lobes and whorls

Of my ears.

They laugh and go on.

I pull the covers up

To my chin and let…

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