We
only know
stories
but a story
may pop up
ripping up our
assumptions~~
Ripping my sanity
Here in the pit of a sanctified cavern
Darkness invades every pore of my soul
Grasping at walls made of stone, cut and jagged
Tearing my flesh as my fingers inscroll
Carving a poem of granite intentions
Phrases of love fall as dust to the floor
Evidence trailing in breaths hardly reasoned
Nothing to rhyme as I lose so much more
Drowning in questions while heavens are bleeding
Puddles of crimson abound at my feet
Shoveling dreams in a creviced delusion
Sunk in the mud till I can not retreat
Loneliness shouts in the stillness demeaning
Echoing chambers deplete in my heart
Calling my name which I now have forgotten
Ripping my sanity cleanly apart
Clutching my hands of the blisters now forming
Pain wreaks its havoc beneath severed skin
This is my fate, an abyss never fading
Bring on the end for I’m lost once again
Loosely inspired by Anne Marie Coreggia’s poem “Timeless Cave”
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/timeless_cave_903493
Beneath the hum of porch light
You caress my fragrant skin,
While these eyes undress a gaze
Deepening breaths to ignite.
As we move like moistened curves,
From a heated rendezvous
I become a flamed woman…
A rhythm of dusk immersed.
And a thousand moths quiver
Glowing on open window
Of porch light’s swelling cave…
Ripping my moth-flesh bare.
Upon the grass, lips create
One prayer wafting our names;
In love, you alone bring thrills
You are earth's song …my twin mate.
Craig Cornish's Chopped ll Contest
11/13/2014
Within A ripping Soul
A feeling of loss in lore
Amidst the web of the whirling wind
On the eyes of the earth
Amidst the whirling wave
On the eyes of the seas
A soul emerging to grab
The edges of the complex world
It is growing and living in
To capture its entirety
The more it attempts
The more complex the word seems
That the ripping soul seems lost
Amidst thought about the whiling wind
Of the world
Forever trapped, can't break free, I need out, let me be
Drops of falling fear, bursting into puddles of courage
Rivers run with oil, painting earth's mighty image
The sun finally warming me with memories of old friends
I'll follow them anywhere if my heart intends
Rise above the clouds, chasing the not-so-silly dreams
No way to tell real from fake, reality is ripping at the seems
Holier than thou,
sacred as a cow
anointed with margarine spread;
a Sunday to rest,
some socks and a vest
and a penchant for laying in bed.
Sicker than sick
and thicker than thick,
drugged with a heroin chic,
bright light beams down
through a crack in the crown,
spearing a spoon-bending freak.
Speak unto thee,
the voice of a tree,
afire with gelignite balm;
whacky and wild,
abused and defiled,
born to succumb unto harm.
Lysergic the feast,
the mark of the beast,
halogen burned to emboss
symbols on skin
as forever begins
ripping infinite Christ from the cross.
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