Castles in the Sky

S. K. Nicholas


Kisses on your belly and my tongue doing stuff your mother knows all about but won’t ever say. Fingers on your thighs as you lie there speaking of what hurts with no intention of making a change even though you know it’s all down to you and no one else. You can travel far and wide, and yet you can never escape your own skin. You can take as many lovers as you like, but never will they keep you as you wish to be kept. There’s autumn in your eyes and a forest in your heart. There’s a swan you call your own and a pathway to the past you try so hard to deny that just aches to walked. Penetration. A doorway made of light. A cigarette to link us as the years come undone like the ties that bind to that which we have no need of. I…

View original post 199 more words

Please Explain

Max or Not

i wouldn’t be lying
if i told you
i was being dishonest

at which point
would it really matter

its purpose
was not born of malice
nor to pacify
or justify

it is rather precisely
this reproachable pretense

of which it was my intention
to deftly circumvent

i’ve yet to find
the patience
for effusive explanation

if by scrupulous omission
i can subsequently skirt
obligatory inquisition
based on commonly feigned misconception

i would much prefer
to proactively forgo contention

conveyance is not my forte
abeyance is far more fitting

honestly, is honesty
not honorably objective

true, this might sound objectionable
as veracity is, voiced aloud

i swear i’m not despicable
and certainly, not proud

but i so despise such prodding
it deprives me of the scant control

over that which i have deemed
as essentially inconsequential

arbitrary, as it were
not befitting of retribution

now, if you would exuse…

View original post 8 more words

Dear J. Alfred Prufrock

Mick's Neon Fog

Futility in the pages of decades old poetry, mold in the bindings of our 50-year-old dreams. Do you remember cliff-diving outside of Santa Ana? The strangers we lived with in the woods, new friends from San Francisco. Dancing lost footsteps on the sidewalks’ lyrical chalk, a young folk band busking towards Denver. Making love in our tarp tent to the Magnetic Zeroes; rise to find dawn gilding the hills round Athens, Ohio.

The lyrics to our dreaming lives haven’t changed in 50 years.

Dear Dylan, Dear Kerouac, Dear Ginsberg, Dear Morrison

Because somewhere outside of Asheville we heard the hum, low, monotonous, whir of the processors. We thought we would run forever. One by one friends and lovers in graduation caps and office desks, and the hum of the processors grew louder. So, young and hungry and tired of running, we returned to retrieve our degrees. Fortunes awaited, long careers…

View original post 54 more words

Weight of Ways

RamJet Poetry


It’s the way


I am weighed down

It is the words

that are storming

in the back of

my head

It’s the dead

and words said

It’s the waydown

solve my mystery

for me

I condone

but do not belong

We all strive

to keep alive

the slow songs

of the last dawn

It weighs down

on a heart

concurrent salvations

in a place

of damnations

What belongs here

and those apart

catcalls and masturbations

apartheid and


it is the weighing


done unto one

form of another


scratching the serial

to provoke the


killer craftwerk in cold


it’s the way


compound fracture

of my disposition

alleviate happenstance

and dance the jig

of denigration glance

I fall

and follow

the formations

of this long

fucking line


It weighs me down

In this queue

with you

It may behoove you

to lose

that lovely…

View original post 91 more words

old friends

samantha lucero

slay the beast
that like a dissolving silhouette
roams at the corner of your eye
leaves when you walk to it
stays a friendly whisper
in your ear
on your weakest,
ugliest days.

find the piece of you that’s rotting
(we’ve all got one)
hunt it out,
                     rip it out
before it makes everything else
around it decay.

View original post