Mouthless Bell

Even if I’m shoutin, from the outside,
Does anyone listen to bells anymore?
Does anyone hear this striking noise?

How can I hold myself up?…when slipping on chalk dust floors.

And you live life in a centrifuge of hope.
But I cannot wish to be your paramount.
And I cannot wish to hold your gaze for so long.

Even if I’m shoutin, inside,
Can I even admit this to you?
For I need to scream,
But I have no mouth.

Even if I’m shoutin, inside,
It doesn’t really even matter.
For no one hears a worn out soul.

Please do not linger sunshine.
I’m thieving for a moon seat.

Art: Daehyun Kim Moonassi

Poem: Naomi Ruth

Echo Muses 7.

Epic Patina

Crumble by crumble, how you found me.                                                                                        Kisses to toes up to inner thighs.

You shipwreck the movements of my heart.                                                                                You’re wings that take flight and flutter my body all night.

I’ve come down with a fever mist of your embracing tug.                                                             I’m a fool to overindulge on this momentary satisfaction.                                                               It will be gone, like always.

I can’t colour inside the lines anymore, of this life.                                                                        I’ve simply forgotten how. I’m overspent.                                                                              Needful.                                                                                                                                                                A monthly dysthymic.

You, the revelation.                                                                                                                                    You explain my heart up on stage.
You’re the limelight.                                                                                                                                        I’m just part of the audience.                                                                                                                       I slumber in these tragic stories.                                                                                                                    You, are brilliant, in patina epics.

Poem: Naomi Ruth S.

Art: Richard Fox

The Voyeur Poem 3.

Flowers For My Monster

Slay me, you did.
Torn up, in shards of          Unrequited love.
A glimpse into piercing        Titanium eyes, that spun in my Heady mid-morning.

My lavish body,
Rose up at your request;
To memorize your longing, as my own.

Will you not please me?
With your sharp mouth
That tears its own chords.

Inspire me, with my peaks of    Pink, smashed down into your         Words of singularity.

I’m still down, before you,
On my knees in my plead.
Beguiled, by your need.
Transfixed, as you vanish.

Poem and Photo: Naomi Saharski W.