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follow not my path; I will not pave bloodstone, but rather marigolds.

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O. Captain / Cap / Nevermore || any pronouns

see ya, space captain

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Clinging to faint wisps of hope that this universe, this vast fresco of burning cyan and cushioned crimson, will one day take pity on us pitiful ones.

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swallowing ground-up glass to make the stars to fill it can only do so much, we've learned that


current number of classic lit characters ive gone out of my way to project on and reason out why they might be gay: 8

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and the stars that aren’t bring blood from the walls of my throat as I try to choke them down

Edited by queenie_flower

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every sentence you speak hums against my throat: you still awake?

Your voice is drowning out my thoughts, I would let you go if I could remember how

And Even if I could sleep, every Dream sounds like your flower scented voice

 

You say you dream of me, of butterbeer and scented candles.

but I Know. You're just telling me cuz you Feel so Alone.

And who would dream of blue skies when there are bright stars above them?

Each star twinkling like the jewels on your diamond necklace. 

Each bone glittering, osteoblast gemstones, blood like red dye number eight tattooed over R#3 hued muscle

but i will say to you: 

 

don't walk away. not now.

For then I will see the jewels in your necklace were glass instead of stars

and your bones mere calcium instead of gems

and your eyes, love, were only as full of the universe as i wanted them to be

 

Our goodbye was a slow burn

The world turned out of my hands and swept you away in the wildfire

And as I tried to cut the stars from your eyes, you cried out

Would kisses rend you, tear heart-flesh from rib-cage?

Oh, our sweet, Sweet vanity. Wearing your presence like rubies, garnets, our love was a fire opal.

 

We are rough and jagged, uncut diamonds scratching once smooth skin.

the good ones, despite jarring metaphor, step back with 'are you sure?' but you,

you were a good one in how you stepped forward and up, to reach the top of the pedestal you placed me on

and the pedestal i made for you fell to earth along with he sky, with the stars, as you wept and those fiery comets dripped out with your tears

the shattered pieces are a stronger monument to Pain than the smooth marble was to Love

 

leave the architecture to the greek, my god, and don't bloody bare feet on fragments

of my shattered heart that the ones before you ground to glittering dust

follow not my path; I will not pave bloodstone, but rather marigolds.

 

for marigolds are blooming suns that burst alive in the velvet sky; crystalline stars of burning passion.

Swirling Van Gogh yellows will sweep you away with glittering shards of glass

Ha! That's all we are And ever were: Brushstrokes and gemStones. The art Medium. 

Stars winking, remote and alone.

Solitary titans, like those we used to be; or, perhaps, nebulas clusters like who we are now.

Clinging to faint wisps of hope that this universe, this vast fresco of burning cyan and cushioned crimson, will one day take pity on us pitiful ones.

 

and yet, statistically: space is more empty than full

And even if we say otherwise, we are more empty than full, too.

and so we are ever reaching, ever grasping: empty creatures striving to fill the void

swallowing ground-up glass to make the stars to fill it can only do so much, we've learned that

and the stars that aren’t bring blood from the walls of my throat as I try to choke them down

 

i touch your cheek and Hope that all the Stars you've swallowed were real

Because if they weren't, you'll be more broken than before

And I, tattered as I am, will be left to glue together your pieces

and plywood, sum of scraps, holds no candle to fine wine-stained cherry

 

At the same time, too many metaphors leave sweet crumbs that scatter.

Too many metaphors break us into idealized clay-footed statues, and we forget that we are only human in the end.

Well, my love. I Believe we both Know the Time has come

And so, dear one, adieu.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Collective Slam Poem: Nov/Dec 2017 was written by: @drowntown @queenie_flower @X_of_Coins @Short_comedian @Hydra ’Liope @WanderingMonster @Beautifulgarbage @O. Captain @septemberskies_ @mouse @writeandleft @conradbirdie @Apollo's Lover @thepensword @Over the Rainbow @flamecoloredglowstick 

 

Thank you for contributing to this masterpiece. It has been really fun seeing how we all created the poem. I hope to continue collaborating with all of you this year. :22_kiss:

The next Collective Slam Poem will be hosted by @drowntown.

 

May your 2018 cure your writers block!

-Hydralio

 

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-Hydralio

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On 1/2/2018 at 7:16 AM, Apollo's Lover said:

Should we give it a title?

I thought about it but wasn't sure what to call it or who should name it. Do you guys have any suggestions? Should we leave as is?

-Hydralio


-Hydralio

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16 hours ago, Hydra ’Liope said:

I thought about it but wasn't sure what to call it or who should name it. Do you guys have any suggestions? Should we leave as is?

-Hydralio

As the host, maybe you could create a poll with a few titles and the authors could vote?

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