1 Poetry

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Kristie Leigh Pilkinton

A origins without myths

there are times i think of the sun and ponder how lonely it must be to have never had the apple of your cheek held like an abandoned fledgling that fell from its nest, rendered motherless or to have never been kissed, looked upon with eyes that did not flinch to be felt...

Kristie Leigh Pilkinton

A widow lamp

don’t touch my face until winter, they start these schizophrenic love tourniquets i never remember writing like pages in a novel being blown towards a disappearing light by a reckless, wheezing grandfather train cold and sick in your spine like shrapnel i don't remember waking from this...

Kristie Leigh Pilkinton

A painted fan faces

that you braided, tickled, shamed shy, fertile orchids out of their gnarled black happy houses made them learn to grow around me inside me crooked, hunchbacked abominations snaking themselves around the bars of my cage like cannibals with river god faces and the smell of nana’s cold...

Kristie Leigh Pilkinton

A insane garden

i am watching from the inside of my dollhouse the shadows are tucked in around me on all sides no one can see me good. there is a girl my age maybe one cruel october younger, i am stilled by her her dance is sad, lingering a torn white veil trailed through moon sand or maybe a...

Kristie Leigh Pilkinton

A humping andy warhol's face

This is an oldie... I wouldn't call it golden, but I wrote it in 2006 when I was sixteen, in and out of the mental zoo, and on who knows what anti-psychotic/anti-depressant cocktail... I'm posting it mostly in tribute to Miss Rams... since she's joined our lovely circus, it's brought a lot of...

Stryder
Stryder 05 Dec 2011 Tag: Abstract

A "A Rose is still a Rose.."

Watching Plath’s ghost trapped in a Bell Jar exhaling the malaise of media obsessions of celebrity suicides like the fuselage burning in the wet retina of a raging Poseidon, with trident forks pronged from the prang...

Kristie Leigh Pilkinton

A anti plastic sunset

please die, she says cloudless and eroding from the knees down part monster part hallucinating shadow she is broken silver mirror and torn wings, ivory bone mine my own i’d give her mine, but they don’t fly anymore when your mouth is like a gaping wound, pooling with bacteria pleading to be...

Kristie Leigh Pilkinton

A why angels cut off their wings

if i could twist pain’s arm into beauty, i wouldn’t it is meant to be hideous it is meant to shine only with tears it is easier to believe sometimes that there is no god when my hope is bending and breaking and the clouds are imitating a nightmare i think of heaven and how...

Stryder
Stryder 12 Sep 2011 Tag: Abstract

A 2am Kaleidoscopic Backbeat

Eve naked and nailed as a red eclipse to a cross of stars black as night. Tinfoil dragons snared to a crumpled crash of flaring smoke, mercury oozing silver sky deluge kissing blowback choke contained inside a metalloid Elysium, strained in the confines - a...

Stryder
Stryder 12 Sep 2011 Tag: Abstract

A Dreams of Magritte

Inside the orb, the eye, the dream Dripping milk tears for memories Suggestive of the simplistic and serene Opening up the handbag of light And she’s candy breaking extreme With all the charm of a butter-knife All her colours wet against the bleeding sun Defeated conscience too tired to...

Kristie Leigh Pilkinton

A the flower garden

Today I blended the colors for a heart-shaped face, I was a wildflower, the blurry watercolor lilac of heartbreak that only grows when all is lost shattering the way only love’s instrument can, without either will or reservation into a white flurried hades we sank, the spine of...

Stryder
Stryder 11 Aug 2011 Tag: Abstract

A Cathexis

Out of focus, out of sight I can see inside the octave valves of equilibrium Mythomania chugged to shunt wounds Like juggernaut trains on a broken track.

Stryder
Stryder 28 Jul 2011 Tag: Abstract

A Slurch

Skulk-waters; wart to face. Deterge the skin of brackish fiends. Old mansion bolt lifts, floats backward windows like miasma clouds, dirt on a screen. Flies quarry to bone-wreck & diaphanous marrow. Brush kapok, advance to dance slurch in the slump of swamp palaces; moss Queen of...

Stryder
Stryder 22 Jul 2011 Tag: Abstract

A Soup for a Soul

Give me new bones to play tambourine Musical tibias in a dentist's dream. No teeth do me justice. No mouth An ulcer would accept. I'm Picasso in a ceramic bowl Full of cornflakes And soup for a soul

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