The World Is Splitting Open At My Feet
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a table of contents i. feminine speech ii. leucosia iii. a mute. a idiot iv. running around circles v. film vi. the beat poem vii. gyrate around axis viii. my confession  

   

The artist isn’t home Her atoms lied to the Tax Man Now her house is foreclosed And her children sleep alone No more slight of hand Silk infested bed sheets And brilliant nightshade Facial seizures Contemporary dance She speaks in a foreign language No the artist is not here. Her head’s stuck in the oven Back in London.

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Feminine Speech
Feminine speech. Stork, covered in mulberry Wine. The stories you sang At the children's bedside. I smiled through the wall. Take me away tonight With the nursery rhymes And soft sentences. Censure set abroad, by your Feminine speech. You slogged with the day-time, And came home so mirthful Warming milk And seaming the unweaving Fabric. My wool vest. Snow bathed the house During the night-time. You snuck in the bed Along the substance-less Midnight. The children, sedated and fed. The pages through The index. All stupefied And you twirled their hair Until hush. You kissed my face And sunk underneath my bones. From there to wherever, Slept with the haze of stars Silently.

[you weren’t there when I needed you are gone. you’re going under. ]

- leucosia

Leucosia
Her lure is empty, a siren ousted On a fruitless beach. Mid-winter, The howling of the solstice aches In her marrow. I was sent by the Lab. To pick the creature up: In my arms. To study, To watch it decay.

The over-wash of eyes, it suddenly Reminded me of a willow. Stuck Behind a wooden fence. Cold-blue Mountains above and larks Humming. The loneliness Of that blank valley, rippled Across a plain of pestilence. The moist night-air, crackling Dawn. Barren. In cold-blue eyes. Her eyes.
The body was covered in lacerations. Over-saturated in salt. Poor thing, I thought out loud. I Wish I could of saved It. I took it back to the Lab. To study--I cut it open With a cold-grey knife. Cleft apart, bit by bit.

I saw the willows, Bend---I saw it spit

Out such Blood. In plain Sight, --- Hunched over In flakes of Skin, so Forgotten.
Anesthesia-soaked Reflections of a decomposing Verve, plush in her scales. Extraction-then expulsion. The siren was flushed Out the back alley, in the Trash can. My mind melted, Like hot plastic. Sticky Residue. It waited for her To come back to life.

The rocky shores, have Come forth to land. My shipwreck Is abased, and conscience afloat. The siren held my hand, my heart, But just as her dead carcass fell, I, myself, drowned.

A mute a idiot Imagine Dragons are overrated

october 14th 2012 it’s an optical thing. both bi-lateral figures holding grudges on opposing cliffs, a weird alantic. we’re terrible to each other, we’re terrible to each other.

A Mute. A Idiot
Shy away, the girl hunches over The barrel. Acting as a cadaver. For the men in her night-sleep The one who discolored All of her blood vessels: Inside a plummet. A mute. A idiot, Her clasp. Never accounted To very much. Words They all spoke. They all tongued In the same language. Her whole life she heard Every utter, every word, Nice promises. I cannot imagine Why one would stay, So naive. Poignant: They all must of felt. To be so abased, To strike feminine flesh And drink their yeast. A mute. A idiot, In her clasp. Never Guessed it would of Happened to a girl So comely, so cher The one who always walked With a strike strut, But never cared. A mute. A idiot For sure. She must

Of been. I can't think Of why else. She would Stay. With Him. His piercing soil And rugged ash Of a beard. His hard-assed Stare, mounted on a pedestal For the world to see. But no one ever questioned, She covered it all With her make up. The words were easy, She cried silently, Tearless. A mute. A Idiot To love him The way she does. I fall, When I talk to her. I try to dilute Into liquid. To poison His beer-of-yeast. At night, I would bury his body In soil. Never to be Conscious again. But two nights ago, I buried her bones. Skull-cracked, With the back end Of a hammer. He had been drunk, On his yeast. He carried her To the limits, aligned In the inexact. And I cried, tearful, For her. He said he was sorry, How he wished, He could die as well.

He was A mute. A idiot, But he took her away. Like a learned man, And embodied the Skill set of a assassin. I went to the courthouse, To kill the learned man. To put-an-end-to, But I couldn't do it. I was mute. I was an idiot, To not pull the trigger And fly from fallacy, And into her arms. But I couldn't do it, I couldn't do it.

you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re

wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong you’re running around circles -------------

Running Around Circles
Her synchronicity lies In the practical. The grocery Shopping, the school work. It all lies on a straight line, Far away from the bell-curve. I don't question her. But I want to love it, the patterns. I’m but a shrew to her "planned-evenings" and priorities. ( She hides her stripes. But she sleeps stretched, in a Lioness cast. ) Derived without a faux-judgment She knows every word: - Protozoa - Amoeba - Euglena - Ecoli - Paramecium - Volvox. However She sometimes Forgets my Birthday. The gyre is winding down, This circle-running has A receptive nature. My dear. Boredom is a number, You recite it in night-sleep.

Tiresome, and dismounted. A severed bias, for your Grocery shopping. The School work. Our window pane boasts The truthful fears. The admission of guilt, A frailty so enclosed, blossoms On the highest esker. You Dream of the most Amazing things. It kills Me to realize, they never Seep through that alloy Casting you enamel. Your beautiful voice, Delicate being, I've dreamed Forever of faraway sparklers. A stone bridge, a nervous Endeavor: brushing the hair Out of your eyes. Clever words. The eraser is cutting Deep, a sleepy prominence. For us, we know the Plastic that covers our Words. The voiceless Momentum that brought Us along this rocky cliff. Life is decomposing, we Are aging. The future is Brittle, so let us go forth Being cautionary and gentle.

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The scampering of the little hand Plying against the glass canopy. Plastic tegument, mocking me. I know I'm getting older In directly. Clock sprung down the levee, screaming "I'll allow you to speak your mind" As long as you figure out What I’ll grow up to be. Go to school. A bronze medal, What will do is up to you. University sprung down the levee Screaming, "tuition is rising" Their hover cars spin out of control.

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Film
I slept with the fog: A manifestation. I was helpless --Aimlessly sick. I slept with the fog In such relentlessness. As I was loveless. Searching for a girl --Who didn't exist.

At least in this mildew Which I had admired Unaccountably. Lonely lake I muttered. This solitary brush in The forest.
There, ------------------- The swans all had busted Out. Their cuckold Weather balloon. Their Dives echoed into a swoon, dreary spirits Waited in the negatives. Coiled roses, wooden bridge. Pragmatic portraits. I was: Like a dog,

Selling sex for a bone. Howling along my Mating calls, the Full moon. Playful Aggression, running In the park. Tree branches, Splitting hedges, foiled Tulips. This existential Game of fetch. How reckless It has Become. In the margin of Night-sleep Attention dripped over The windowsill. How All of a sudden, The girl in my Nightwear Calls out. Slaying The follicles of memoirs Calling out the treason Of the mist, Or fog. It so happens to be. It still happens to seem. Both carried Out in sugar -Coated bliss. Wicker weaved, This spinning carousel. A hamper, Yes. Delight brought to The teary eyes of

The children of my youth. Everything had been Peerless, a polygraph Never so true. Until I realized the trickery Of actuality. MeanSpirited, an illusion. Still once, I was content. That night still speckled Into my carpet thistles. As ominous as it had Become, it held safe. My memories, fade in And out, between that Day and now. I've come to defend, In a matter I've dared to attend. The validly of this calamity, My caress with the bog. I slept with the mist.. I slept with the fog, A manifestation... I digress.. A manifestation, None the less.

these people will one da y die. (most of them already did)

the beat poem

The Beat Poem
Part One I have seen the sun Shed through the basin. The silence of eyeing out The beast in the loch, the rising Channels of libido corroding Its carapace. Buzzwords Describe the chance, the Probability, The random stare. The telegrams screen your Allurement, the blurring of your Eyelashes in the subway. Parkway -Drawn, These bones tell us The night has turned upside Down. The ache of the Street-call, the enthralling Breath of dusk. --- Along time ago your dress Was a pile of coal. Mining the Capitalistic mantra, we've Danced with it in the ballroom. Pint's of The Father, materials Of pure omnipotence. You've been Blessed with this numen, you’re raw Beauty. Comfort the wavelengths --- A pity for Jesus's face. Your Wooden cross --- This necklace. For years I Have

Wondered How you could Wear it When you play With my hair. That concupiscent --- Stare. A Bib of Indulgence In your "Flower child" --- Prayer. A masquerade polity, this One-sided love. Metaphoric In all of its trials And tribunal. The World today, how lone It has become. Back in the Sixties we were playing In Eden, but the towers Have all but fell. Our trees, They are stumps, our feet Are also but stumps. Never moving, loss limbs, A whimsical promise, but a Prodigy in its own. Our love Has literal importance, The face of religion, smiles Fondly. Amongst the undertow The medallion still glows. Even If the dreams of freedom have Become blemished

Part Two Al, has the statue of liberty Fell between its own legs? The island grows mechanical Limbs, its wings of poultry Send it to the USSR. 1. The cold war was a facade, an ode to the control of society over the use of artificial fear 2. The cold war was not a facade, the warheads are coming down to bring us peace. Al, I was there in Geneva. When the tension was alone. The red-telephone, line cut, Dial tone constant. Al, I was There when Ron raised his hand, And spoke in tongues. The bear Sat hungry, and it was brushed Underneath the rug. I was there, When everything was made alright.

gyrate around axis

6 steps to happiness 1. sleep 2. sex 3. sex 4. sex 5. sex 6. sex

Gyrate Around Axis.
Placed on a swivel. Twine wrapped, an uneasiness In my stomach. When I see your cheeks Fluttered ----This cardinal girl. Picnic wrapped in Plaided dreamscape. Sapphire sky-----------------Unfold. In my arms I hold, Embryonic buzz For you. My dreamt love. Prohibition Swindles our loins, Illusionary cannot Feel… But I feel. I long. I wonder. I am. Yet I am not. With you I might of been. Rain: cataract. Ashen, coiled clouds, Whirlwinds swoon. Soon, I'll be gone Blueness-trance, Gyrate around axis. And you will be gone As well. Receding, Lost abeyance. For us, We walk for now. Until then.

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My confession

My Confession
Ply back the velvet Grassland, disport the mire that Lies beneath. Curtains that Have encompassed the elastic Choler of my forgery. The reigns of the crimson Temperance, her blood-less Tears patch our divided Conscience. An exposé for Midnight tales. For too long Have we have shared This intertwined fable, This mind-set: how we rely On the insanity of men to Let us know normality. For I Have come to accept The old world as a mistress. Revisions of this module, Is a flourishing endeavor. How we are so close in stuffing Our pockets filled with god. Lets See to it that this Utopia Turns through ruins. A senseless causality, for The love of the mother-country. (The deer’s gallop in solitude along A metallic plane. A few meters Away there is a missile-silo swimming In the shadows of the woodland. Flowers blossom along its irradiated gamut, Train tracks shuffled around its neck --- adornment. Its perch boasting a robin nest, while Black flies pour out of its massive 3000ft beak, their stingers drenched In radioactive atonement. )

How all of a sudden, the Girl in my night-ware calls out. "Awake from your dream, The everyday-reality Is spilling out blank-faced Cruor. The taxmen have raced Through the village square. The Palace is set afire. Echos Of conviction, the fraud We have committed unto Them. Their swords. Their cold-grey swords." Growth and decay, the Philosophy, or yet, the will Of nature. Our supermarket Affair has been brought To the eye of the lord. Judgment Has taken the form of revelations. A gavel to a blade, the jury, The executioner. All reigns Ahead, the demon eyes of The skeleton bronco. Their Whims drawn tight, their Muse knotted and strung. Plath, Whitman, where are you now? The ink has dried up and the Nameless have been named. The old world is gone, a Prostitute in the night. And I have become Jack The Ripper. So play to me, will Heaven open the skies And take me to the Depths? Into birth? Or is all that awaits, The middle of Nothingness?

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Children stay silent Don't bring me down that Path. Your mother is tired And the snow is falling down. The empire is cut-throat, The empire is a bottleneck. The cap sealed tight and the Oxygen can't get in Carbon monoxide through the air Filters. Relax, the taxman is Coming to make it alright. Go to sleep children The taxman is coming Everything is going to Be alright.

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the world is splitting open at my feet written in october of twenty twelve a poetry collection by cole hayley cover photo - “cutting clouds”

feminine speech leucosia a mute. a idiot running around circles film the beat poem gyrate around axis my confession

to whoever is reading this, thank you for reading “the world is splitting open at my feet” unto the end. give me a message and lets get coffee sometime. colehayley.tumblr.com.

all works are original pieces written by cole hayley (colehayley.tumblr.com)

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