Blue Lambency Downward

Beneath the arc of the rounded rainbow lay Whistled the lark as the arrow lost its way The Blue lightless perfect-colored obfuscaire Still supine, I crossed the sandy veil Falling forever through each measure All moral minds sentinel Falling to Hell Breathe together Farewell The circle we drew as we moved but tried to look down was wiped away with the sound of the morning rooster's crow... His tail was tied to a hammer and he dragged it to the horizon In the hallway outside my bedroom door I heard the old dead sleigh gliding to its restful drones Purposely knocking the pictures off their nails With a vacancy ogling my sober inhalation Our curator's rocking to the rhythm of the rain on her carved hair here in this room, with the inverted torches at its barrier, where materia vibrated out Its vibration left a plume climbing its way up a blue-blessed curl, which was girdled by aurora of obliging black morel Then, I called and cried out while I minded the bell that dangled crazily closet edge of the basin of the rain which fell (It fell in the shape of a bifurcated ammonite shell) A beacon as blue as a bowerbird's eye in the morn A poem written in threes over four My oeuvre based on the coy and forlorn Another boy's parallel night in the harrow And the quiet decline of my questionable rhythm Disinterested forever in upwards motion I hung out by the white chalk letters I watched my body move and let it

Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 25, 2025

The cathedral buried beneath another cathedral is where the glibbest instrument lay And there it rests, exhausted While in the visible room, a band continues to play The insensitive diviner, feeling ill The beetle rolled over and time stopped Suddenly the gospel pages multiplied And my entire bookshelf reversed itself I don't want to be the melody I prefer the choking sow Who, while taking every care to parry Has wound up with her head in the ground And each of us choking on the cannonball with a sound Can't help but sleep until it's dark And winter weighs on every bough We watch you as you drown And reach up to us on your way down You're hanging from your toes in a tiffany redoubt Come back and I'll tell you more...

Submitted by MetalElf — Apr 25, 2025

Laughter is ceasing All the coroners of New Orleans Are calling, all the coroners are calling you You are completely alone in this world It's not your fault, it's just easy to forget Waiting for a voice to say come in Outside, a bell is ringing on a traveling olive branch Now I'll be cold forever To an innocent stranger Which hand is heavier on the snare?

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 25, 2025

Slowly relieve the sow From her revolving white out Releasing groans in quiet telepathy A weight no cradle can hold Answer no blood-diluted question The floorboards bow so lethargically Releasing groans no cradle can hold A mild avenue to think A body turns to body mild Pale in shadow, left untethered Begins again a blanched cascade Endlessly draining through the eyelid Sublime display, upside-down Gently augmenting the weight Lowly, lowly, lowly, lowly allow Seeing how the variant victims are arrayed A burden I can't even keep myself awake Tie her to the endpost while she deflates

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 25, 2025

The wooden lookout seven stories high The steeple at the top it won't stop singing Singing singing singing It's got a rigid rule number one It's to keep the bodies living The last crooked sign to bend to the way trees are growing The usual size of a growth that's been trying For several hundred thousand seconds Allows you to drop from the eaves to the leaves in Only several hundred thousand seconds You almost can see the fearless machine milling blindly Beneath the calamity looming when the sun goes down We hope the clouds stop bouncing each other off the mountains We hope the wooden lookout has a gutter it can use Ear to the ground alone where the edge of the day was The valley clicking to the tape already rolling Makes me want to turn the violin down This wind wheel won't stop spinning This damned wind wheel won't stop spinning around

Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Apr 25, 2025

The shamelessly desirous broken heart inside the otherwise empty cabinet of doom Weeps what it's modesty beating without The youngest grave will hold a crowd before The people stuck on the train have a reason to doubt. The shamelessly desirous broken heart inside the otherwise empty cabinet of doom Weakens our modern prophetic distractions. Pretty paths to perfidy and crooked roads to valor And people stuck on their rooftops with a Government ladder

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 25, 2025

The Ribbon of the Bell Slipped her stockings straight And fluttered to the choir below And tied herself to the countertenor Leftmost in the frontmost row. I saw her path before she even fell And that is why I stood beneath the bell And from the bottom up, Its details stark and doubted Ignite an uproar in stained-glass And sound the trumpets of vanity With knowledge of a monument erased I'm the woodpecker on the chimney Digging at the wrong stone But blithely shaking off an ordinary brown Those faded feathers somersaulting low across the road

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 25, 2025