The Closure Sessions
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Orion Thomas Blogger, poetry gimmick.
The Closure Sessions
11M ago
Cold sores, cold wars
So old it is being told
“You’re not the one”
But I keep it to myself
The doubts I hide like a pimple
Red and irritated, ready to pop
Now wipe away the pus
Let the blood coagulate
Let it stain like spaghetti sauce on a stovetop
I’m covered in cat hair
I’m soaked in lite beer and spit
I’m in an argument with the television
And she’s not listening to a word I say
The virtual lover, the guilt-free neglect
The shades are drawn, my pen is broken  ..read more
The Closure Sessions
2y ago
Oh, let me brace myself
for the cold kiss of winter.
A heart like a hearth,
the crackling of wood fire
conjures memories of a home
since caved in from a heavy snow.
A still portrait of a family,
bodies blanketed by snowfall
exchange chilly glances
intercepted by the gusts
of the harsh wintry air.
A snowy owl perches on the debris
For a moment I ponder what it means,
before wringing the moisture from my tongue
to save my truths for a warmer day.
  ..read more
The Closure Sessions
2y ago
Great flood, mudslide
Love like a natural disaster
Great trees uprooted,
the violence of separation
I was found upstream, tongue severed
bitter food for the fishes
I feel a nibbling at my fingertips
as I sink with my thoughts of you
Your face like sunshine cutting through storm clouds
I miss the warmth that it brings
So, if you find yourself taking on water
If the lightning cracks thrice
Send our mementos up the river
and I'll be at the bend to collect ..read more
The Closure Sessions
3y ago
Hello everyone. This is your poet speaking. You may have noticed I haven't uploaded in awhile and frankly that's because I haven't been writing regularly. You see, COVID and the ensuing lockdowns have completely disrupted my routines and rhythm. As many of my fellow poets know this can be debilitating to the writing process. I'm also currently enrolled in school and working full-time. Turns out that eats up a lot of my time.
To my readers, thank you. I don't know who's still reading but thank you. To everyone that's seen me perform this drivel at Poetry Room, Artist's Umbrella, and vario ..read more
The Closure Sessions
4y ago
Hyperbole: I'm dying. Untouched,
stubborn to the dullness
that is waking up
to only regrets at my side,
now familiar bedfellows
Masturbation without imagination
A meta-like quality:
The star of a NatGeo special
A wild beast pleasures itself
for want of feeling
and I'm unconscious
my brain swelling with nameless want
Bloody Suburbia
A stalker's corpse in the bushes
bored to death
But we are not entertained
Assuming the missionary position
(is the poet not crass by nature?)
for much of our lives
on our backs
waiting for life to take us there ..read more
The Closure Sessions
4y ago
The bereaved Gardener
Etching names into stone
Your face like clay, brown and firm
Two 0 One 9
It's so hard to fall upward
Failing to find myself in the storm
and I think it so cruel
dipping the doll's head in wax
a chipped tooth, a weepy eye
A boring into the earth
the carcass of an oak
limbs strewn about a sea of grass
I've been silent about my intentions
Seeding the soil with lies,
lies, lies, lies, lies, lies...
But worry not-
The sunflowers sprouting from
my chest will still turn in open conversation
The headstone dressed in moss will
speak my name in silent tongues
and I'll watch o ..read more
The Closure Sessions
4y ago
Don’t. Embrace the space between us Familiarize yourself with vacancy because I’ve checked out. It wasn’t the bed bugs moth chewed cream curtains semen stains on a carpet the same shade as oatmeal- It was you. So, Just. Don’t ..read more
The Closure Sessions
4y ago
Baby brother with hair like wildfire eyes of deepest blue glistening like the surface of Lake Michigan in Indian summer- A smile of hidden treasures buried deep like our mother before us You learned this early on- not all that is found yields reward But count those calluses the sting of sweat watch the blood trickle into the wound slashed into the earth Baby brother you remember it well- a broken chair the kindling to an arson whose hearth still glows beneath the charred remains of a broken home Baby brother show me the blisters- Continue to stand too close to the fire and you will get burn ..read more
The Closure Sessions
4y ago
Listen close, loose change Hear its tune in your faded denim pocket Sag, a smiling waistband hugs your hips The tone of your skin cream of mushroom Your ugly, all to my appetite ..read more