Poetry Blog by Alita Moore

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Forever and forged,

The great mind,

Of mine.


It comes in bouts,

Of gout,

Needles in my eyes.


The feeling of dull death,

Streaking from the center heart,

And it does not fade.


To walk in day burns,

The soles of my feet,

Summer’s beaches reek of dead pleasures.


Breaking bones,

Pressure of life,

Death besides me.


It didn't help at ...

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Fearful Living

Triangular fixtures,
On the glass,
Just between cold mist and fog.

Slipping between,
The midnight fright,
Aching back in the morning.

A waiting world,
Drooping of a leaf in tea,
Melting eyes of shadows.

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And dicey, 

Solid fallen wayward shadows. 


Veneering the very being, 

Besides me, 

Welcoming cold weather astranged. 


Furthering the secondary, 

A tertiary beginning, 

The foolish abomination of stricken death wish.


Golly it does be tell, 

Forensic and death bells, 

A pedal on the ever lay. 


Caucus and delibriation, 

Vorumption ...

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Before the teal,
Of heavy rain,
A song did ring unclear.

But split and spatter,
In cracks and mounds,
Frayed the linen thin.

Struck against the bed at night,
A handgun held in envy,
Shatttered glass besides a mirror.

Just among the very leaves,
Tepid in a sunset morning,
The water seams the very dress.

Mouth did heal among the waves,
Strongest in real worry,
Greatest in raw f...

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Slits for eyes, 

Through dusk of dawn, 

And written down on tissue paper. 


Floral in briefcase, 

Drenched beneath cold willow, 

Tunes of merry metal. 


Wrapping in the circles, 

In which we cannot be, 

Merely a human being. 

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Yellow Blue Dandellion

A pain in my side,
Mercy be by my night,
In willow high arches.

Perched on great orchards,
With legs that dangle,
An idea of my sight.

Sticks that step in forest path,
By the side of rocks forgotten,
The breeze is to awaken

another night,
another fright,
Another reminder I am broken.

The standing of a misled child,
By the edges of enchantment,
And the denial of your life be...

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The straight and narrow,

A dismal day,

Again the reversal of places.


It begins again,

A judgment day,

And the hands fell short of forgiveness.


Night thy dark,

I remember this thing,

Truth by the edge of deadly.

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I know the world,
Through and out,
Looking at the fucking door.

The hanging paper,
blue and yellow,
Left ashes on the dying daughter.

A drenched up sailor,
A timeless flower,
I stood by wood and watched it fire.

The whispered classroom,
My mind in wander,
I was given to the stranger.

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The gallery,

A spell bound man,

Toes to toes besides a shadowed overlay.


Criss cross patterns streak an open portrait,

By the ends of the stream,

And stood in the aisle.


Painting another picture,

Reflections of dreams,

Just like me.


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