Our by Phen Weston

My latest offering to the forest 🌳

Night Forest Cell of Radical Poets

Always, the air had placed foiled garments
at my feet. If your brain is broken,
may I suggest dissection?
Cut the pieces
and strip the flesh back to infinity,
place them upon the ground!

Remember that I am your beast.

The ground splinters and spits
tubular
in gross expectancy and low,
I am never, nor good.

I sit here, watching as familiars
mask my existence through their lives;
and no decedent of Odin
walks the empty walls of Valhalla.
Huginn, Muninn, blinded
to the false words and pompous prophets,
stray in my slumber.
Spittle runs down my beard,
noir shadows chase winter sun.

Bygone,
tomorrow was never here,
and as I lay
my fingers towards the sinister
I wonder,
what it would be to take a life–
to slash the gullet and place the gizzards
before her graceful silhouette
as contribution to those forgotten ancient goddesses.

She was familiar and…

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Sounding Out P.

“Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting with the gift of speech." - Simonides Pixelated images Dance across the carpet, Perhaps today Will wish the world anew, Preparing tomorrow For adventures too few, Prevised realism In great years to come, Precious postures Sweep into daze ahead, Playfully wishing For fears to be shed, Passion... Continue Reading →

Expectancy

The prolix extended to centre winds that blew, forming fusion intent to allocate the emptiness, succumbed, that grew, new reflections journeyed wherever strangers, suspended, threw your memory, and I can’t breathe this stale air. On dark mountains we walked paths lit by moonlights lies and romantic twists. Travelled softly, in quieter times, to swim in... Continue Reading →

Nothing but the rain.

♦ From my book ‘Nothing But The Rain’  (Surprisingly)♦ Through life’s chaos Did she die grounded? He promised ardor, Asking only what she saw Before the fading light Of elapsed finite presence, “Nothing but the rain” She sincerely appealed, Falling through the universe, Spiraling star that she was, The cooling eternal winds Filled her earthly... Continue Reading →

Will find me

there is no life here- no intricacy- nor artistry- only wandering empty hours binding to afterlife- where I sway with death- dance beneath the abyss and rendered into end-

Scapegoat

Hours wake and the dead don't talk, empty stakes in their wayward fault. Some days, beyond the post-mortem stray, where storms chase dragons and old crones decay, I search the world for more than you, but each new location only drew you nearer to those haunted hours, our littered dreams and those terminal flowers we... Continue Reading →

Untitled, 28th Dec ‘18 by Phen Weston

Forgot to share this one with you all! Please go check out Night Forest Poetry. Maybe send them a submission?

Night Forest Cell of Radical Poets

I once ate the world!

Wrapped around its roots

And bled upon dead forest floors.

For what?

In words I am the limited,

Devoid of empathy. Standing

Rage that carves through rock

Wind, rain and hours

To be ignited like marsh gas.

Burned out.

There were days

When I was limb and night.

Aches and cause,

The blistering unity

Of sinful contented beauty.

But now the world burns out.

I watch.

I watch rage and greed

Simmer within the houses of men.

I watch with such regularity

Strings pulled

And played with unflinching depravity

That I wish, sometimes,

The world would burn a little faster.

I watch oceans fill with artificial fallacies

And habitats drown in steal

And anger,

and I scream

With wild unbroken power…

Her heart beats

Like forest fire,

And in our ashes renews without us.

In our deaths, lives in harmonious stolen

Moments

Outside the pages…

View original post 42 more words

I Die

To never see your face again Or feel your soul warm the night Is my drowning pool. Soft pit, harsh pendulum, The hours swing and I decay, In life, waiting for quietus. The only way to feel your breath That was never mine to share.

2018

I will cut you from my heart Until my hands are thick in blood. Until your memory is buried deep Into the frozen ground My love now becomes. You are rot on my tongue And will be death in my words. Our epitaph will read: “No more, my darling, only betrayal and disease Live upon... Continue Reading →

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