Her presence is reflected in
your darling infant irises;
she plays hide-and-seek with me
‘tween shadow and late sunlight.
Forgive my tears, sweet baby niece—
your auntie is not sad at you;
I am merely overwhelmed
by the transcendence of love.
A day will come when you will know
the strength that courses through your veins—
a legacy of fighters.
you’re a warrior.
I see her in your eyes.
Sir Eric on Whisper and the Roar<3
I have seen her
The Aegean sea
in her hair
Her warm skin
in the Mediterranean sun
Her supple hands
that spun the crimson thread
that bore a hero through
to kill the beast of the labyrinth
but what hero is this?
such a vessel of
valor and courage
wrapped in womanly flesh?
as she slumbers in peace
doth the rogue
take flight to the waves
and away with her heart
steal the morning light
from her eyes
were I born
of likeness to brave Dionysus
and to seek the favor
Receive the blessing
to woo, her
Then should She
not shed tears
to find her heart stolen away
while in the world of dreams
what they would have us believe
Athena did not
in her manner of reason
lead Theseus away
he left her
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This is the balls, ya’ll. Check out David’s blog! ❤
You can’t disappear here, I am already gone, a ghost of my ideal self, person you wish to rescue you from the dark angles bearing down on you. I am a flame, a nightmare, a cloven-hoof vision that is inverted and bloody, woven into the patterns of a life that was lost in the rain, in the Spring, in a million deceptions, secrets, secrets, secrets…”everything will come out eventually.” They keep telling me that. I cringe and think about a stinging sensation in my neck, as I am inundated by unsolicited pep talk.
Just another day. We all need one more day. It will all be okay tomorrow. Pinned-out eyes, ground-up teeth, the hours that repeat themselves–the eerie eternity. The silent misery, the collective sigh of death heaved on the shoulders of ants, and bees, killing themselves over labor, over love, over the nuanced mystery that leave us all in…
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I’m a huge fan of Nicholas. ❤
All this time, I’ve lived like a shadow.
Envy of the gallows,
while all the while, I envied
All this time, I was callow,
howling at my dancing inspirations,
unaware my feet were moving
All this time, I was scared, not even
sure of what, but ran the gamut of bumps in the
What price would you have paid, I’d wonder;
to rectify schisms with their wholes, a thousand
variables seeing their knowns
across crowded rooms; dead seas with complacent
What would you have chosen, darling?
Rabbit holes to Wonderland or poems that span the miles through
every lie you tell yourself to
fall asleep at night?
The paint is dry,
but there’s a sudden brightness in shadows
that transcended writing on
words we can’t redact but gave us
enough strength to
stall for time.
Holy. Balls, y’all. Check out Olde Punk on SD. ❤
Murder in the thirst
There is always the murmuring first
Anticipation is just the worst
Do you not think?
No do not speak
Why we brave the waste
There is ever aught but dust
And folly, ever the tides rush
Close to our feet
I’m trapped in the past
And I know you are the last
Of the crimson knights of defeat
Feel my heart beat
In time with the rhythm of demise
I despise and deplore
Blood on the floor and all over
Your precious face
Oh angel of disgrace
Never are you more beautiful
Than with the fear of death
Perfuming your breath
And heavy with the knowledge
Of my damned divine curse
Shadow clouds over the moon
As dawn and dusk meet
Clasping hands over the finality
I embrace you lovingly
The taste of your blood on my tongue
I listen to the dearest murmur
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Samantha Lucero on Whisper and the Roar ❤
i’ve evolved from spitfoam into hearth-iron ribs
trapped between septic fingers and lost doors.
one gummy eye used to be the rasp moon,
the other a varnished cloud.
i’ve created ants and snow in a womb
for licking cloying.
for freezing, for festering age,
years. rafts of web on web.
i scream in a locked room.
where only i am dreaming of being me.
to accumulate in wrinkles that are parenthesis
around your matchwood mouth or baby horns between
the swale of brow-felt.
the hole that gullets its teeth.
samantha lucero 2017 ©
Samantha Lucero likes… uhhh… cats, and can never think of what to say about herself, she writes at Samantha Lucero , sometimes and is a managing editor at the Sudden Denouement Literary Collectiv
Allie of Dances with Tricksters ❤
Oh heart, my heart, what did you see?
I was a bone girdle on the Devil’s tree.
Oh lover, my lover, what are you now?
I hath become Death, to reap and sow.
Oh seed, what fire now grows in my loin?
Tis the flame of desire, from Hell purloined.
Oh Earth, oh beasts, from me why you run?
You have become human, unfortunate one.
Oh husband, my light, what do you see?
You are but the Reaper, come to claim me.