cgmion1's blog

Were you born of a mother
or mid some cresent kind of constilation
Were you the half sunk conch
no, a conch is discarded
Were you the strong oak
no, oak is lost in other wood
Were you then the sun
yes, of my solar helix
where your hands make
sea
sea shine
by each
sun
sun rise

i build a diamond

in the lawn

ginger grass

dirt savant

i build the years 

i lived to pass

cabage grass

sassifrass

i felt a breeze

these deer paths

of fallen tracks

like diamond farms,

ginger hash

Angel was rather nice

Till angel damned to caves of ice

Spirit blew along the wind

When spirit found its spirit kin

Norns dance along his foot

Till their tills were burned to soot

Mowing Mars led sovereign toys

That led stead a growing voice

Cat ate from garbage pale

Till cat grew old and fell to ail 

Stop-

Made the brick and traffic sick-

Make love to the wind

Feel the breeze where you aren’t touched

And when you flinch speak to the hush (stop)

All neck coiled around a galeic stream

Hands fanning out your stressing seems.

Go-

Drive the fires and scoutic runners-

Freelance feelings for a yearning lover

Makeshift faces to hold a face

To flash a screen of something fake

Let’s bake the cake but add no bake

Go beat this horse for God’s sake.

Deeply arrested spider web

Dark, black, dark, black,

Eight Eight Sixteen Sixty-four

Sided strain of insect wings

Eight Eight two two

Spider Spider me me

Eight two Eight two

Spiderman

Spiderman

Venom gland

Dark, black, dark, black

Deeply arrested spider web

The elks we rode

Through maple trees

Ochre suspended seas,

Birds thick as silt.

On elks we rode

Down drowned brittle coves-

Mind Noah's staff (so I'm told)

For the wind's it's jolting cast.

The deer found it in a field

Across its brain a studded shield

Upon its gray a marble cross

Like something there had taken loss...

We killed the deer to eat that night

Strapped the shield in dear delight

Head and arms strained loud upright,

Writing wood branch brandished in hand

All battle bad, all held like man-

The likes a boy can't understand

but  does die a boy born a man.

Tempting temptress of the tempest;

Cream cool temperatures to the sweltering;

A dream I’ve danced for a body I’ve held

A dream I’ve dared of outside the weld:        

Feign saints flaking their flank lives-

How whittled wood falls washed off of knives

How rain snow hail dry from the sky

How holy lands are where we die.

The sun the one, one Ra god of light

Speaking through raw patchwork fields

Speaking webs of waking life

Speaking till the hinkier hush of night:

The dream I’ve dared of outside the weld

The cluttered creatures I’ve seen held in hell,

The furnace of a star’s satirical dawn;

Globed gemini kites,

We call it moon but we don’t call it right.

Amethyst mist

Emerald moon moss

Tiger's eye sky

Copper bowl

----- ----- ----

Red grove

Old cloud

Endless seems

Pit plant

Mat lands

----- ----- -----

Pale brow

Bleached beacons

Revolving skin

Daily whimperins

still working on this one!! lol@"Loched" the english language hates me...

Part twisting were the teeming winds
That were howling mid the heather,
Where the sunlight caught the mid-flight spores
Like a nimbus of feign feathers.
There, throstles trolled fleeting hymns
While lucent rays refracted,
Playfully spun and craftily shunned,
Off its pinions and thin limbs:
A shade a trace, blotched pale against the sun
In the nothingness of its abyss
Where known universe was strung undone.
All fish-eyed rendered, angled at the sky
(While lying midst the aisle)
In this grove of fairy fringe,
With woods all held outside the weald
Loched first frost caused ground to tinge-
Rampant growth like ramparts grow
Shielding what is there to show
A secret told unto itself
And for just the heavens to know;

A-too vague-wandering spell

Which sheathes the hill tops
In a deep fertile veil,
Growing concrete and marble
Like corn in a field
Where each kernel’s a soul
And each being an ear-
The tolling knolls
And encroaching bluffs
Where the foxes trot
But then
The fox drags its weight
Then hastens a dash
Finding a white rabbit
It stalks into the grass-
There are wolves like tree bark
A dragon in the lake
With blue royal strands-
Lord why do I know it is fake?

A12-sounds like a prolific classroom...

angst poetry-oh lord teen angst haha this is my favorite category to read

announcement-an up-to-date site is next to godliness(?) 

biography-"dear diary, i looked at the ___ and it reminded me about ___"

community action-young writer's project is working to improve Vermont!!

description-imagery

dialogue-wordy quotation blobs

drama/play-boons to dionysus 

essay-more allusions!!

expository-self introspective vermont youth journalism at it's best

fantasy-i hate this world i wish there were dragons

fiction-william lives in the city and falls in love!1

humor- /apply to [everything on site]

journal-*cough*diary

multimedia-class projects

music-~lo-fi~

mystery-i'm not sure i've never clicked on this one-ARTSANDCRAFTS ARCHITECTURE 

myth-this is what makes me happy

narrative-less adjectives more flesh

news-journalism...

opinion- rage/rant

performance writing-the thing you made not for the contest but sent in for it

personal narrative-dreams

persuasive-improper bias

photo gallery-learn tangents!!

photo prompt-okay, here is an image now describe what you say hahahaha

photo story-lol guess i'll upload my school project

poetry rant-slam poetry for kidz

review-draft #2

scribble-what

slam-say them out load as you write!!/racial issues

song-lyrics r beautiful

sound prompt-smell prompt

travel-i wish i've been to europe

writing-prose/poetry what are those??

Part twisting were the teeming winds
That were howling mid the heather,
Where the sunlight caught the mid-flight spores
Like a nimbus of feign feathers.
There, throstles trolled fleeting hymns
While lucent rays refracted,
Playfully spun and craftily shunned,
Off its pinions and thin limbs:
A shade, a trace, blotched pale against the sun
In the nothingness of its abyss
Where known universe was picked undone.

The bareness is dressed tonight
In all the black boa boon
The moon is pale her skin is pale
Too trite to spite the sight,
Her eyes are all around the moors
And her lips hold pressed the stars
Her forehead is beaded diamond sweet
The teeth like prison bars.
The faces all but sing along
Those faces twist and blur
They open once
They open twice
And that’s the last I’ve heard.
There was a lace like a staircase
That rung around her neck,
So Godly long she made it stretch
Who knew death were those who bedecked…
Then nothing moved or made a sound,
Save for a stream that soothed
Just made of light that wove forthright
Among nothing left to peruse.

4444
55555
1
22
666
88888888
900000000
000000
0000000

this is atleast a better way of expressing myself than words right now

Can it just go down on the record that everything I post on here is really drafty, just because i'm really nervous people might think this is my peak work.

In the my demons of my downstairs
Among the my angels of my upstairs
A lightning bolt is strunk on them
And cast upon to every man:
Zeus is unhappy with Athena
But won’t talk to his brothers
I wish he would I wish he would
Because I’m the one who suffers--
Through the flashing storms
And winding voices which they form
That echo up and down,
The angels fight the demons
But who says who are who
I thought we had an idea once
But I doubt it’s very true.

Ugh I feel like I really can't write anymore. Like it's not writer's block, I just feel like I've become really bad at it. Worse than I was. Anyhow, this is a dream I had that I can't let go of.

There was a demon that held my hand
And ate my friends as they ran by,
And took from me my every limbs
And ate right out my sunken eyes.
Accordingly, he deemed them back
Setting me to the world all weaned,
But on his back I hung forever
In love with this endearing fiend-
And later he asked from me my eyes,
Which to that moment I was surprised
I answer “No, because they’re mine.”

I wanted to do a larger piece on this subject: the idea in writing that I can predict my whole life. I can say what I was, what I am, and what I will be. Past future present. It's only if I follow it though, maybe I could do a duel peice about life and death, the two ultimate options I have, kind of the irony that no matter what, my life will follow the poems I wrote. Time just really interests me.

I was a boy

Now I'm a man

Then I'll grow old,

And turn to sand.

Poke a body once
And see if the eyes stir.
Kick them to wake.
Beat them to sleep.
Under the eyes
The insomnia grows:
Flourished in mind
Nimble in feet.

Butter-milk light in the frying pan
What a delight to be a man
And seal the deed and do the done
And cause a curse that won’t be undone.
Yes, there’s butter all refracting light
It’s think and warm, bright bleeding blight;
It’s lose or tight, the shivering sight-
Just like a fruit with seeds inside
But, butter me, these seeds have eyes.

I wanted to write something about a slaughter, so this came out. I always like it when things have titles like "The Rape of ___", maybe I'll do something like that in the near future.

A messaged arrow in the grove
The rest are coming soon.
At its end a signal cloved
In one black, the rest maroon.
(The prideful pair preparing their
Lives for better men,
Dictating how in strange portends
While fury makes the naive defend:
All in spools, with friendly ends
Be it of spring or winter’s lair,
With each a soul as is the trend
To awing fear which greets them there.)
Anyhow, the arrows delve
Betraying life’s simple banter,
In craving craters each had fell
(For time is just, and fate Her fel)
The nearer a heart the better.

Amid Shred cellophane robin shells

In faint quaint slippings upon the ground,

Cover the range in tiffany

Then arc lively down without a sound.

The yonder spins of pricks and pins

Rest timely on this virgin realm:

Upon sunlight enlightening,

Upon safe flurry enlivening

Flashing awake spread spectral limbs:

A phantom's dance in captured winds.

It's not the steel that'll break your teeth,

It's the lead.

It comes streaming out and spaces

The spaces

My god the spaces

They open so fast.

And if the shower doesn't kill you,

Man, there's a reason they're lead:

If you don't have them out like that,

You're going to be poisoned.

The pounding of the starry drums,

It’s made into my head

Catching glimpses of forgotten light

Centuries held away;

Into the depths,

Unafraid, made with might,

Till wrecked on the water—

Where it will wilt

Each petal etched

Each one stretched

As the water ripples,

And ripples rill,

Where my body breaks the surface.

The lucid still

The crystal decay

The limbs of rusty reflections:

I see that in the morning heat

(When once I thought they were concrete)

They’ll leak out in every direction.

Prism snakes or smolder sky
Oxen bones and burials alive
Fragile fringe on long limbs
Crocodile boots among anaconda handbags
And the fox furs with pashmina hand gloves.
Sick sick bodies of chandelier smoke
Grit grit fits that end my days
Star eater, dream pillar,
Taught me how to see through the haze.

feeeedback :U