Thirsting
For subterranean
Blue morphology

Azure dreams
Flitting about
On butterfly wings

Mining stalagmites and
Stalactites
Sipping nectar

Numinous ruminations
Illuminating
Analogous mimetics

Allegories of the Cave
An altar for
Pluming rhetoric

He travels after a winter sun,
Urging the cattle along a cold red road,
Calling to them, a voice they know,
He drives his beasts above Cabra.

The voice tells them home is warm.
They moo and make brute music with their hoofs.
He drives them with a flowering branch before him,
Smoke pluming their foreheads.

Boor, bond of the herd,
Tonight stretch full by the fire!
I bleed by the black stream
For my torn bough!

The clock smiled at us
as if it knew we were lost.
Unable to see the path, we continued along
on the wrong side of the ones and zeroes.

Tired of our aimless float;
tired and disoriented in the vacuums of our ignorance.
With all kinds of navigational aids to chart our journey
we mostly relied upon the compass tattooed over our hearts

While lost in the chasm of our indecision
our bodies and minds listed.
Our attempts to unpack the endless
parcels of our unrest ... proved futile.

So carefully, we re-learned the ABCs
and re-interpreted the Western Canon, finding
that it was only by closing our eyes
that we were able to see; were able to feel.

However, the rhythm was off
which was immaterial  as
our feathers were ruffled and
the rhetoric was pluming.

With the overture of the new day dawning
we turned our back
on the algorithms of our demise
and shucked off self-imposed limitations.

You see, it was thirty seconds to midnight and
the world that never seemed to want us
needed us now.
So like anemic royalty, we took flight

breathing down rarefied air and
gulping the nuances of our resilience to swallow:
our intergenerational trauma
one more time.

i sat on my roof and screamed,
i'm gonna revolutionize this
******* world if it kills me

and my neighbors all turned
and stared, interrupted from
mowing their lawns, washing
their cars, teaching their sons
to play catch, and daughters
to go fetch their morning papers

they quickly turned away at
the realization that it was just that
crazy neighbor girl who hasn't
done **** with her four year
degree, but create a fortress
in which she hides day after day

they smell that stanky marijuana
pluming out of her window
and watch her stumble home, drunk,
listening to her sing along to the music
that the devil has surely put on this
earth to corrupt good catholics,
like the one she once was

and they shake their heads and
hold tight to their son's shoulders
and even tighter to their daughter's
hands, because maybe, just maybe
if they hold on tight enough they'll
always be dumb enough to withstand

because the masses are the winners
and this is the spoiler,
we're being taken over by cookie cutting
stepford wannabe *******,
and they're gonna ruin the world

In moonlight shadows, she awaits



As the air around her dissipates,



Pluming tendrils of smoke enfold,



Her body now numbed to hot or cold.



The silver disc moves one step to the left,



She eyes the sky, her feeling bereft.



He whispers from the lake, “where are you?



My all, my everything, you withdrew”.



Her footsteps hesitate once, then move,



Naked emotion she has to prove.



Immersed, submerged, underwater,



Once again, reliving the manslaughter.



And once more freed from the dreams,



Where she left him only hearing screams.

This *****
Artificially awake
Lydia
apples 20 years have passed
oranges i want a do over
manhole cover coins
savage glares across the 4 wheeled property lines
young moms not giving a ****, that's alright
kiss of sun hidden from
anxious from blue oak , it's ridges pluming in the dappled twist
and floundering wave, wiggling wave of oak leaves green as frogs.
ponytail suzy, *** from galaxy sci-fi
i brought up a cup while it was empty there,
but so distracted by my own trembling effort,
every hair a furry hood, every fatty fixture of my face a rebounding basset hound
tennis shoes up to my neck, dumb naked in my greenery,
already old somehow, the window closing,
the permanency of parks, like a stilletto in a limosine,
green fixture of my white blinded attempt to see tomorrow,
tourist .
thoughts of Sylvia
, my gaping awe at the feminine,
and its green garden.

-cbrander

Misty words billow in the cold
Pluming from their mouths
Quiet swearing and first smoke coughing
They walk close to hedgerows
Kicking the dew from the grass
As birds squabble over breakfast
And mushrooms are still socialising
They whistle the dogs to heel
All panting and wagging tails
Stirring the dawn damp air
For happy is the early dog
In these sumptuous fields

Now the business of dawn begins
Low sharp commands are uttered
Bringing the younger bounding learners
To a proper sense of purpose
And that high-toned cross breed
The sleek and swift lurcher
Is eternally proud and primed
This long-sprint racer
Takes inevitable chase
Without sentiment or concious cruelty
An ancient craft is practised here
With the dogs at dawn

                                By Phil Roberts

The hills held their breath
as October came shouldering over them
suspending September's false summer promises
tugging the sodden sky behind
and charging the channels with boisterous foam

Remember your place, the season proclaimed
I'll lower the sky if I wish
Strip trees to humiliation,
grey their ridiculous colours -
Run
little people,
run
while I crash and scatter my cackling fun!

A day, a night,
then short relief -
the hills exhale
in pluming cumulus
like colossal conifers bound in snow
pointing at the beleaguered blue
and we, below,
emerge, remembering.

Misty words billow in the cold
Pluming from their mouths
Quiet swearing and first *** coughing
They walk close to hedgerows
Kicking the dew from the grass
As birds squabble over breakfast
And mushrooms are still socialising
They whistle the dogs to heel
All panting and wagging tails
Stirring the dawn damp air
For happy is the early dog
In these sumptuous fields

Now the business of dawn begins
Low sharp commands are uttered
Bringing the younger bounding learners
To a proper sense of purpose
And that high-toned cross breed
The sleek and swift lurcher
Is eternally proud and primed
This long-sprint racer
Takes inevitable chase
Without sentiment or concious cruelty
An ancient craft is practised here
With the dogs at dawn

                                By Phil Roberts

Those doe-like eyes and your rosy lips
Make these liquid emotions collide and swoon -so when they mix-
Infectious is the way I feel them bloom
Inside my heart so smitten;
I swear you love it too.
I swear you feel it too.
And I swear this space grows with graceful Hues: Orange-Purple sunset lulls that pull
The strings of our two souls
So catalytic, the strum that hums nascent Blues.
Listen...
It sings You and I as a
Primordial premonition of truth, the Downpour like Tuesday Rainfall.
And You?
The pluming sensation reigning in my Skies, breathes when I feel you feel me...
When I love you wholly, surely you'll see us Truly.

Misty words billow in the cold
Pluming from their mouths
Quiet swearing and first *** coughing
They walk close to hedgerows
Kicking the dew from the grass
As birds squabble over breakfast
And mushrooms are still socialising
They whistle the dogs to heel
All panting and wagging tails
Stirring the dawn damp air
For happy is the early dog
In these sumptuous fields

Now the business of dawn begins
Low sharp commands are uttered
Bringing the younger bounding learners
To a proper sense of purpose
And that high-toned cross breed
The sleek and swift lurcher
Is eternally proud and primed
This long-sprint racer
Takes inevitable chase
Without sentiment or concious cruelty
An ancient craft is practised here
With the dogs at dawn

                                By Phil Roberts

When I’m dead like here and now.
Like before and present, as I’ll always be portrayed
wound within the fabric of my birth.
I'll stammer through the phantom beastly of society,
as I always have I will phase
beneath the day's skin,
flower and splatter
amongst the phantom passerbys
and click my blooming tongue
behind your blind ears.
And chant one lasting whisper
against the back bristles of your shivering neck,
my breath pluming against
and within your porous skin.
One lasting, one altering statement or phrase or acknowledgement
I give shackled in the chains of a gift wrapped present
within the corridors of your perking ears
and there to be unpacked.
You as every other soul will misplace my memory,
will forget as a ghost dissipates against the breeze.
I was never anchored here,
indistinguishly as the phantom I am composed of
I may sputter the words farewell,
farewell only to be met with farewell and forget.
Farewell as my pattered steps flutter within the distance,
dead as here and now,
dead as my unlasting memory.
I exist as but a farewell.

Misty words billow in the cold
Pluming from their mouths
Quiet swearing and first *** coughing
They walk close to hedgerows
Kicking the dew from the grass
As birds squabble over breakfast
And mushrooms are still socialising
They whistle the dogs to heel
All panting and wagging tails
Stirring the dawn damp air
For happy is the early dog
In these sumptuous fields

Now the business of dawn begins
Low sharp commands are uttered
Bringing the younger bounding learners
To a proper sense of purpose
And that high-toned cross breed
The sleek and swift lurcher
Is eternally proud and primed
This long-sprint racer
Takes inevitable chase
Without sentiment or concious cruelty
An ancient craft is practised here
With the dogs at dawn

                                By Phil Roberts

Thy mother's bounty bundled in thy swaddling
Took up the cry to capture mine own craft,
And taking arms, thou plundered of my coddling;
Enslaved, I toil to serve upon thy raft.
Thy word is law, thy captaincy commanding,
I sleep not lest I miss my master's call;
Thy will is served, thy drudgery demanding,
Through foul and fair I weather all thy squall.
Thy institution has me fear the looming
Of pirate vessels, renowned for their shrift,
Majestic sails billowed in handsome pluming,
Looting thy spoils and setting me adrift.
Surrendered now unto thy vasty sea,
I dread the day thy heart will mutiny.

Grow, grow, growing grow
Taller, wider, deeper, steeper

Topsoil cracking
Foundations creaking
Interstitial water leaking
Gases pluming
Sun too hot

Birds forgetting how to fly
Flies all set to multiply
Central heating turned up high

Fish recumbent on the sands
Hail brave campaigning elephants
Who rampage through
the concrete jungle
eviscerating 4WDs
with tusks awry
trunks outstretched
eyes akimbo

Vanguard of a worldwide army
of feather scale and bone
all stitched up
By might is right
into a threadbare tapestry of deprivation

Today we spread, we glow, we grow

In rampaging delight we gag
on feather, bone and scale
We suffocate ourselves

Tomorrow
The earth will fry
And so might I

Is this the way to end our poem

© Diana Korchien 2012

Like Jesuits before
     High-rise semblance
  latex sunrise
The man removes his skin.
         bunny-eared fantasies
   ivory, ****-stained car seats
               ignition.
Green poison darts. Drifting upwards
he drives aimlessly
                                 Alone
pluming this commune
    everyone is a girl
Selfish cognition.
Stabbed in the head with keys
    between knuckles
      like an unfurled hazard
rubbing faces in glass. putting pressure
On my teeth with my tongue.
                     it builds
Blind sea-life - crustaceans strewn
    smashed & ******
               on the cubicle floor. Knee deep
                                         smudged and blurry.

He slowly
     Disappears. I feel drained
Dipped in salutation
dripping kingdom
   -  Crust, licked off mouth corners
Bruised                                   (angular cheilitis)
        watery evening/moot
Picked up, and poured down the drain.

The only thing I've ever committed to
has been cigarettes.
So I've been stockpiling my doubts
and all my little regrets.
Maybe I'm useless, maybe I'm a waste.
Or maybe I just haven't found it;
maybe I haven't found it yet.

And the taste of smoke is jolting, renewing,
reminding
me of that fear that I
am designing my life around:
desperate to find color in the insipid motions of living.
Maybe I am committed to the search;
That one day I will wake up and be found
And the first thing I reach for in the morning
will not be the lighter but
her
or him
and their pluming breath, rhythmic will surround me
and the warnings
on the side of my pack will seem real
and my god, will I finally ******* feel.

Red petal maw
Growing wide
And Gasping deep
On the sill like skin
Grown Ink bled red
Making scrawled critique in patches
And the poppy addled spring
Blooming rich and red
All over the ward
Till the air smells sweet
And clean and white
Dancing in the rattle draft
till the breath grows soft
And still

I saw the hemorrhaged gorge
of deeper red
That welled inside him
Like the blossom
When I pressed his hand
And held his head

I watched the wither
Beside him in the night
Wondering with him at the dreams of dying poppies
At the furrows of their season
The Welting swollen purple and blue
Heaving
And dripped in IV's
Pluming in blood
And pooling its petals
One by one

Like forget me not
At the crest of spring
Making breathing a shallow
Easy thing
Forgotten among the poppy's blossom

some things need not be kept,
damp and inexclusive. only
the brave are kept.

others are filed away ready
to be disposed of some day.

some things are burned in
the garden, a small incinerator,
smoke pluming.

the photograph.

this does not mean
i love you.

sbm.

Misty words billow in the cold
Pluming from their mouths
Quiet swearing and first *** coughing
They walk close to hedgerows
Kicking the dew from the grass
As birds squabble over breakfast
And mushrooms are still socialising
They whistle the dogs to heel
All panting and wagging tails
Stirring the dawn damp air
For happy is the early dog
In these sumptuous fields

Now the business of dawn begins
Low sharp commands are uttered
Bringing the younger bounding learners
To a proper sense of purpose
And that high-toned cross breed
The sleek and swift lurcher
Is eternally proud and primed
This long-sprint racer
Takes inevitable chase
Without sentiment or concious cruelty
An ancient craft is practised here
With the dogs at dawn

                                By Phil Roberts

The clicking of raven claws,
On the tin roof.
The evening swelling with lonesome cricket songs,
Clouds coming over the mountains,
As black as the coal under them.
Claws that sound like thunder,
Pounding on the tin roof.
Darkness pools in the summer skies,
Pouring and pluming like ink in still water.
The nights in the mountains are lonely,
It's just the ravens and I, and sadness for miles.

In the dawn, I saw you there
With misty eyes and tousled hair
And with the sunlight flooding though,
I knew the summer scent of you.

You trickled yourself over me
The way the light pulsed through the trees.
And hand to hand we carried on
Across the dampened morning lawn.

Our pluming breath of spectored speech
Soared skyward towards the dancing leaves.
Gaze to gaze, brown to green
The morning lost it's sacred gleam.

Misty words billow in the cold
Pluming from their mouths
Quiet swearing and first *** coughing
They walk close to hedgerows
Kicking the dew from the grass
As birds squabble over breakfast
And mushrooms are still socialising
They whistle the dogs to heel
All panting and wagging tails
Stirring the dawn damp air
For happy is the early dog
In these sumptuous fields

Now the business of dawn begins
Low sharp commands are uttered
Bringing the younger bounding learners
To a proper sense of purpose
And that high-toned cross breed
The sleek and swift lurcher
Is eternally proud and primed
This long-sprint racer
Takes inevitable chase
Without sentiment or concious cruelty
An ancient craft is practised here
With the dogs at dawn

                                By Phil Roberts

Misty words billow in the cold
Pluming from their mouths
Quiet swearing and first *** coughing
They walk close to hedgerows
Kicking the dew from the grass
As birds squabble over breakfast
And mushrooms are still socialising
They whistle the dogs to heel
All panting and wagging tails
Stirring the dawn damp air
For happy is the early dog
In these sumptuous fields

Now the business of dawn begins
Low sharp commands are uttered
Bringing the younger bounding learners
To a proper sense of purpose
And that high-toned cross breed
The sleek and swift lurcher
Is eternally proud and primed
This long-sprint racer
Takes inevitable chase
Without sentiment or concious cruelty
An ancient craft is practised here
With the dogs at dawn

                                By Phil Roberts

Misty words billow in the cold
Pluming from their mouths
Quiet swearing and first *** coughing
They walk close to hedgerows
Kicking the dew from the grass
As birds squabble over breakfast
And mushrooms are still socialising
They whistle the dogs to heel
All panting and wagging tails
Stirring the dawn damp air
For happy is the early dog
In these sumptuous fields

Now the business of dawn begins
Low sharp commands are uttered
Bringing the younger bounding learners
To a proper sense of purpose
And that high-toned cross breed
The sleek and swift lurcher
Is eternally proud and primed
This long-sprint racer
Takes inevitable chase
Without sentiment or concious cruelty
An ancient craft is practised here
With the dogs at dawn

                                By Phil Roberts

Misty words billow in the cold
Pluming from their mouths
Quiet swearing and first *** coughing
They walk close to hedgerows
Kicking the dew from the grass
As birds squabble over breakfast
And mushrooms are still socialising
They whistle the dogs to heel
All panting and wagging tails
Stirring the dawn damp air
For happy is the early dog
In these sumptuous fields

Now the business of dawn begins
Low sharp commands are uttered
Bringing the younger bounding learners
To a proper sense of purpose
And that high-toned cross breed
The sleek and swift lurcher
Is eternally proud and primed
This long-sprint racer
Takes inevitable chase
Without sentiment or concious cruelty
An ancient craft is practised here
With the dogs at dawn

                                By Phil Roberts

Misty words billow in the cold
Pluming from their mouths
Quiet swearing and first *** coughing
They walk close to hedgerows
Kicking the dew from the grass
As birds squabble over breakfast
And mushrooms are still socialising
They whistle the dogs to heel
All panting and wagging tails
Stirring the dawn damp air
For happy is the early dog
In these sumptuous fields

Now the business of dawn begins
Low sharp commands are uttered
Bringing the younger bounding learners
To a proper sense of purpose
And that high-toned cross breed
The sleek and swift lurcher
Is eternally proud and primed
This long-sprint racer
Takes inevitable chase
Without sentiment or concious cruelty
An ancient craft is practised here
With the dogs at dawn

                                By Phil Roberts

some things need not be saved,
damp and inexclusive. only
the brave are kept.

others are filed away ready
to be disposed of some day.

some things are burned in
the garden, a small incinerator,
smoke pluming.

the photograph.

this does not mean
i love you.

sbm.

As I lay in my bed in my simple Apartment I reside in where many words flow through the aware alive thriving consciousness where I am genuinely amazed and a bit perplexed on how the human psyche and it's most inner part of our cerebral synapses and an array of a massive multi-billion delicate intricate highly complex mechanisms of creating, arranging, compiling, sensing, observing, converging, and lastly elaborating trillions of bits of what we see hear touch smell or taste. Thus creating reality moment by moment second by second as we are simply just being happy to be part of the constant in the now part of creation of what we perceive as reality as far as we know this is the epicenter of what we see is an unknown amount of particles atoms and forces that come together to make the factor of our planet able to sustain life air water fire thunder earth and it's invisible forces making planet earth hospitable and able to thrive with Life and all it's individual constructs of what we perceive to be real yet cannot prove or disprove any theory of reality or a virtual/biological God made hyper-reality. Knowing as Human beings that we are the only Mammals to have fully developed language, reason, intelligence, instinctual feelings and able to meditate throughout all the mind/body/spirit altered states of consciousness if we dedicate and devote our time to learning our limits and restrictions we made to ourselves yet becoming transcendent with more spiritual breakthroughs allowing those Man and Woman who are still spiritually sleep become apt to be awakened and begin learning the ways to enhance modify even defy our previous limitations and restrictions as Human Beings. Nonetheless, we all come from Father God the source of all Spiritual existence here on Earth and in the Heavenly Places. Determination to ultimately finally possess Mankind's greatest questions be finally answered in a complete concrete concise and clear manner eliminating any trace of doubt or better yet creating more diversification of possible probabilities that could become either our greatest answer towards Mankind's struggle to observe, test, and generate the answers the whole world seems to be looking for ...hence if taken all into consideration the TRUTH will be one day known and what LIES our superiors been feeding the millions of people worldwide at that moment their respective methods of making a LIE sound almost exact to the TRUTH shall be known and then a mass awakening of the spirit shall sweep the Earth those blind shall see those deaf shall hear those sick shall be made whole and peace and prosperous times will abound. Let me give the reader a simple self explanatory answer to the problems we as Humans face today...Racism, Fascism, Communism, Socialism, Terrorism, Hunger, Famines, War, Poverty, World Wide Pandemics, Fear delegated corrupt systems of Justice,
Using Religion as a form of Mass Control, Violence, Drugs and *** being constantly advertised on TV, Media and Internet being shown to Kids and Teenagers under-developed minds showed this ****** and obscene themes through subliminal imaging and hypnotic suggestion. If we truly as Adults take a closer look at teenagers or children these days ohhh the Childhood eras have surely changed tremendously. Now days kids wanna be feel and do as if they got the freedom to do right or wrong without reprecautions  nor consequences just because of their age they feel entitled to do come and go and act in such ways is just absolutely unacceptable for my time and Era to behave such way nor even act or say anything that revolves around disowning or dishonoring their Parents.  We live in a World governed by the Elite families who fix create and either control or let corrupt individuals with sick and twisted personalities control what goes on in their countries yet they themselves are being also controlled by a higher up later of Elite man and woman that run the combined economical, judicial, educational and health systems. To bring change to this we as communities must get together and fight this people in power and abolish their secret societies vote for a true individual who will stand up for the people's rights and have the society's interests at heart create programs for the needy and homeless allow laborers to a better pay create a stronger more fluid cash flow in the states and push congress to invest into our struggling communities. A Leader who will fight to end injustice and corruption in our federal courts involve our youth in camps in all variety of fields like business, art, sciences, Web development, Hand on jobs teaching them to have a basic understanding of construction,  design, pluming, electricity, and many many more. Design workshops also for our Young Adults focused on learning a trade to once they complete the whole course graduate them and provide them leads to jobs who will hire them based on their trade. While acquiring the job give them a small reasonable lump sum of cash while still unemployed but yet looking for a company to hire them on to their crew once hired after their second paycheck cut off their provisional cash and provide them with motivational programs to help them deal with the stress and allow their energy to refocus on doing the next right thing. Unite our communities to create strong bonds with competitive large companies that will provide good benefits for their workers good 41K plans and give them provisional bonuses of small to moderate amounts of cash be added to their pay for achieving from 3 to 6 to 9 to 12 months of steady work that way the work place remains constant and keep their workers happy and satisfied with their jobs. Lastly I want to remind whoever is reading this that together we stand strong but separated we fall apart keep God always 1st in everything and have faith on him and his provision of blessings and leave him your pain your struggles and allow yourself to be guided by his hands for with him nothing is impossible.