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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
Ghosteen wrote a new post
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Read MoreThe loneliness of lips as Hollywood scripts unread, tells mother mouth to only speak in whispers Within and without each biography has a margin, but fuck protocol tonight the moon is slut coloured red sensual are the bed sheet library Up and over, around and below what side of the...
7 Comments-
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
everyone should lie under a slut moon, every now and then!
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![Profile picture of Crimsin]()
hello dearest poet you make me wonder who you are I think you know me from DU…this is so full of hunger and passion ❤️ p.s there were only a few that really impressed me but clearly you are one…
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
you do know me brenda. does strangeways rob ring bells? i was terminally hooked to the ‘music thread’
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![Profile picture of Crimsin]()
high Rob and yes you did always impress me 😊
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![Profile picture of RomaJ]()
I like how the poem moves beautifully from quiet whispers to a bold, sensual crescendo. The shift from the quiet “loneliness of lips” to the sudden, overwhelming urgency of the final lines is brilliant. I never would have thought to describe the moon as “slut coloured red” -that vivid, daring language perfectly captures the poem’s alive energy.
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
i love how you interpret my tatty words. you just may have inspired me to write something called ‘slut’. that word carries such negative connotations, but within the language lexicon, it is a universal desire scream. thank you romaj.
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![Profile picture of Thomas W. Case]()
Thomas W. Case and
RomaJ are now friends
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![Profile picture of Green]()
Green wrote a new post
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Read MoreI was never broken and I didn’t really believe itbut damn, I got tired of hearing that “there was nothing wrong”with how I was
5 Comments-
![Profile picture of Fia Naturie]()
We are made the way we are supposed to be. I understand though
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![Profile picture of Crimsin]()
I get it beautiful poetess if they didn’t think that there would be no reason for constant reinforcement reminds me of me with my schizophrenia great write just be you you can’t be anyone else ❤️
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![Profile picture of Tim]()
That’s kind of weird isn’t it. It’s like they’re trying to convince you of something before you ask. lol
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![Profile picture of Thomas W. Case]()
Powerful and poignant.
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![Profile picture of Paula Jobi]()
We are born into circumstances. You control how those circumstances affect you. They may burden you. They may show you the right path for
you. Some people live a glorious life while others struggle to survive. So far, I have survived! I have been broken and I have pieced myself back together. I have taken many wrong roads. I have been very lost at times. Be yourself always.
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
Ghosteen wrote a new post
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Read MoreHeld as grenade coloured fingerprints from a love crime scene, Darling, Night Arrived without you Turning memory until wrist snapped, one man solved the cube in three seconds but for others, decades play dice with never-ending seasons Red was the seductive flame of her dress kindle...
4 Comments-
![Profile picture of Crimsin]()
you are a master writer so full of passion makes me long to know you ❤️
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
you do know me crim. lol. i’m also great friends with poetspeak & styxian.
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![Profile picture of RomaJ]()
Raw and unforgettable, this poem is an unfiltered outpouring of a messy, deeply-felt heartbreak.
Grief, love, and memory twist together like the cube itself, and the striking imagery -from the “petrol pirouette” to the painful truth that “yellow bleeding into orange doesn’t always promise a sunset” perfectly captures that internal chaos.
The frustration of the Rubik’s Cube beautifully reflects the struggle to reconcile a beautiful memory with the painful reality of loss and betrayal.
I love it. It’s brilliant and beautifully written.
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
Wow RomaJ ,you have a job as the editor of my never to be published poetry collection. Not that I have any desire to be published. It’s enough to know my words have touched the soul of one across the Atlantic. It was a task to compress my train-crash love life into one poem. Diolch.
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The moon is slut colored red. Yes!!! Love this