via Lovely Broken Creatures


closed fists
Opened lips, and breathing
Fire, with the good in me, treading
Quietly while being pulled down.
You say something like,
“fuck you fuck you, fuck you.
But I love you, and I’m tired..”

I paraphrase.

Seems like there’s
Less light coming from the
Sun these days.
Cold is as
Old as time.
Slowly, we have been brought
Closer to where light can not
Touch anything. Not you, not
Me. Not you and I.

No shine.

If I could exclaim my point.
Hear and be heard clearly,
I would say so, if I had
Something to say that is
and then I would jump as
Light through the branches of trees.
To shine down.
Down on you, down on me and
We could reach each other

Outside of words

There, surrounded
By nature, its gasping

So lovely,
On its way toward what
We say, is




Let me just exist as a smile

And certainty of love by sunshine.
When the winds converge with
Fists, let my arms and heart
Open wide again,
And again with understanding
Not ignorant bliss but what it is
You need and we need to move

Let me understand the roots so
I can reach toward the sky in an
Innocent love wishing to leave it
Behind and so last somehow
Copyright 2017


Incubus, Just A phase

Low howl of wind being
Met by big trucks
Headed south and hell
Bent for leather.
Not a hundred yards from here.

The sunlight reaching through the
Treeline before setting, spotlighting
Leaves as they let go, gently
Turning a fandango with the wind.


Extinguished light of my good intentions
Left behind and turning to stone.
The names of the lost I whisper as
The counting clock makes its time
Ticking loudly when I am alone.


Coveted: the laughter of my father and mother,
The great and tender heart of my sister.
The spark of greatness my son keeps
Hidden, my wife, life’s sweet tinder.
The blaze
raging now in the forest where I’ve
Hidden her.


The days when the
Smile reaches my eyes as
They sweep over and behold
the familiar and
Treasured kept near to the heart
Sacred like silver and gold.

 ♾sunontiepost 2016



Cold west wind
Dead blunt force of a
Bumbling windchime
clanking all hell
and out of
Harmony in my ears.
Loose thoughts of a
Bended mind about
The sunset draped like
A great cathedral mural.
Again the idea of West and
Waning time.
Moon blue fingernail
Of the cosmic finger
Squeezing the trigger
Of the gun to the head of
The universal mind  then,
big bang
end of night.
Sweet life for a ride
Well ridden. The roads.
The rail, the beckoning
Sky, her great wide turns
Brewing weather, October’s punches

raining down.
We are born
Under the bird song again.

Thankful. Thankful.


Fall Back


in a study of five long years I found

time is meaningless in its measure

necessary in its application

breaking down our movements

into boxes securing blindness

making dark a thing, like enemy,

dragging the cold along, and

light, like a wanderer, like lost love,

drives by your house slow ,in long slow

circles, never a thought of reaching the

porch steps.




Dad abandon

My anger turns to a deep, deep disappointment

I let it run through me daily, like

medicine, a bitter spoonful holds your

mouth closed.

You’ve already

done and told, and cursed, and threatened

broke down under your own sad weight inside.

Rested, to rally again, though the breach

widens, and the heart sickens, holding up

black wings.










What’s rising up inside is silent

first. This is not cheerful but

feel for where it is coming from and hold

yourself still

your tongue too, as it comes up further

reaches the places where

razor wire has grown like a cancer in your

body, running hot in your veins, still be still

though it commands your mind

to suffer along side the wrecked and ruined

heart and tremble


Do not reach with hands

this place

over time, runs the silver down your face and

further along you will learn how to break

over and over

you will learn to



©Sunontiepost 2016



where are we here when truth

maelable like sivler
its value only point of view
can be made of straw, set to fire,
or mashed in bricks laid where we
step over the broken
in misery
it’s not the gun or the thought of the gun
that keeps me awake at night.
I’ll come back to that later.
I can take what I can take
so there, take down all the clocks
off your walls if you’re gonna push on numbers
for the white sleeved ones
make sure
make sure
Once I was just a dark shadow bursting into a Christmas tree
so my words are just ornament and in season
and I will do all the things that seasons do.
So will you.
LO there!!
re boota meh
what did the text you just got say?
Shortly after the i.v. sedative I said to the nurse
I know there are no guns here
so go get me a scapel right now
like now like jesus told you to do it.
I can’t recall the next thing.
I don’t think he is up there above the clouds,
more like on the wind and in the cold that
runs through you, still disappointed in his son
no doubt.
                                                                     From: Redacted: a fragmented journal
©2015 sunontiepost


Source: Generator

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