he wakes his love
over lush surface
she feels his insistence
a building deluge
that can no longer be denied
his love unbound
as she achingly pulls
every aqueous droplet offered
into her substratum
for she knows
this is life itself
spent, he deeply inhales
the rising aromatic nectar
of their liaison
upon her landscape
Boots - A Child’s Tool of Torture
When the rain stops, I put on my boots.
It was worm-stomping time.
I put on my coat, all ready to go,
to go commit my crime.
Glorified spaghetti noodles rise up -
My rubber boots stomped DOWN!
As I committed my massacre,
I mused if worms could drown.
I tested this in a puddle,
squishing their soft pink heads.
They didn't really react,
so I stomped more instead.
Worms are worms.
Make them squirm.
That's all I have to say.
you know the darkness?
the greyness. when it rains
we sleep under this sky,
letting rain fall in between each breath,
oozing between our waking thoughts and
shadows starved -
wrapping their hungry hands around
the light, squeezing the water out,
letting it fall.
reflecting that darkness back,
seeing faces you don't recognize.
gnawing on the flesh,
cold and too proud.
watermarks across the bone.
you know the darkness.
rain between the sinew and blood.
flooding the system:
grey sky in your skull seeping into your dreams.
I’ve been here before, loving someone else more
Than I love myself.
How many times will I lose, if I choose
Another person of poor character?
Fairytales fed me lies, while my unacknowledged cries
Will go on, unnoticed.
Meeting someone heartless and cold, you are no longer bold
You’re just a shell.
Loneliness is my closest friend, I wish God could send
Me an Angel.
Is there anything to ease the suffering and pain, what does he think he has to gain
From committing endless acts of cruelty and selfishness?
Why go on and pretend we have something real, when he can fake what he feels
I am no longer the person I once was, but rather just a shadow because
I am a person with unrequited love.
When It Rains.
It only comes out when it rains.
the heavy feeling in your chest
it presses your lungs so you can't speak
so there is no way to tell others how you're feeling
but you don't know what you would say
it also wouldn't matter
there is no one there
because you feel so alone
in a room full of people and you can't make a connection
so you lose your emotions
not just for the people you care about
but the things you do
the books you love to read are fading from the pages
the shows you watch are uninteresting
and the people you love are just people
so now you are stuck
you have to feel that weight
because that dark heaviness is all there is
eventually, you find comfort in that feeling
to the extent that when the days come when you are okay
you self-sabotage until you find that comfort again
but at the end of the day
it is still hurt that you are feeling
and you are still sick
this feeling will continue to bottle up
it will fill until the pressure breaks you
and the feeling is pouring through the cracks of you
coming down like rain.
And it only comes out when it rains.
But when it rains,
Drink of the Gods
The solute awaits the missing solvent
Inchoate alchemy yet to mix
And create the solution
The solution ensnares missing charges
That attracts right stuff
For the stuffing stirring in the cauldron
The cauldron effervesces
Each blob of bubbled plasma'nauts
Burst into the airs of possibility
The possibility of solution as the fruit
Come to fruition
And life just pours out
It just pours out when it rains
Open your mouth
And taste life's sweet nectar
Sweet nectar nourishment
Take not cover from the rain
That provides the solution
The solution is the otherwise immiscible
But collects ready-for-child-like giddiness
That embraces life splashing in puddles
A Strange Barometer
There is rarely a day
in the heat of L.A.
when Manny can
show out his style.
He’s been known to pout,
and dance about
while awaiting the weather’s wiles.
But once he discovers
the chance for cloud cover
Manny can hardly contain,
the excitement that grows,
between chin and toes
as he pulls out his costume again:
A trench coat as black,
as his fedora hat
and wing-tips to match.
the cotton and leather
and bare knees
all make a strange batch.
So I’ll give you a tip,
never let your guard slip
as innocents are easily fooled.
If Manny asks whether
you’re liking the weather
then you are about to be tooled.
So Quick! Close your eyes!
Turn your head to the side…
you can’t say you haven’t been warned!
If the weather gets crazy,
and L.A. turns hazy,
the rains’ only half of the storm!
It only comes out when it rains.
I take a barrel. Collect. Each drop is my salvation. In final preparation.
My life's calling.
I'll do the cooking. My dirty laundry. All the neighbors will watch me.
Little birds will sit, barbs on the wire.
My sister will wash her hair.
Granny will water the plants.
They'll lock the stable. Turn down the veils.
"One, two, three. Stop."
One, two, three. Stop.
I fully expect rain, at my funeral march.
It only comes out when it rains challenge @dctezcan
Eyes in the Night
I remember the weather...it's funny, with all that occurred, the weather is what's engraved into my nightmares. When I close my eyes, I can still feel the fog on my skin and see the starless black sea above me. It felt like I was in a vacuum...like all the air was slowly moving away from me...like whatever precedes emptiness.
Then, emptiness. The space around me became blacker than anything I had ever experienced. There was no light, no sight...but the air was still thick. I could still feel it on my skin. I reached out into the emptiness, lost, wondering if anything could pierce this veil. But then her scream cracked through the void like a lightning bolt. Every hair on my body jumped to attention and I bolted. I ran straight for her, and I don't remember fear. I remember the wind picking up, right in my face and pushing tears across my temples as I flailed through the utter darkness. I remember the rain starting, and how it washed away the ink. Black gave way to red...the air painted with her blood...and the hairs on my body, already on end, felt like they tried to leave this place without me. My skin crackled and popped and I exploded into a ball of fury that seemed to me to illuminate these woods for a moment. A moment of godless retribution followed by what felt like instant absolution... and then I heard another 'CRACK'! But I did not scream. There were no screams left in me. White light washed out the scene completely, and that was my last memory. My last living memory.
Now I lay dormant most of the time, eyes closed...perpetually pondering it seems. Stuck in this place. You see they're looking for me, or should I say looking out for me; but they can only see my eyes, and that is the one thing they now fear. So, I only move when the air in this place gets thick again, and I can feel it on my skin. When the inky void creeps up and those demons start to hunt, my retribution begins again. My eyes, only come out when it rains...and my eyes reign.
They Come Out of the Woodwork
His woodwork sits undisturbed,
Expensive, he sacrificed
Holidays, he gave his
Hours and sweat to craft these
Things, is all they are.
He never saw the rainy day
His wood box was covered
With a star-spangled bower,
And the five who knew him know
In a dark corner, sawdust
Gathers in his wrinkles.