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Welcome to the Tangst Prose and Poetry Page.

Due to the high volume of the poems on Tangst, we (the admins) decided that a separate site should house all the tangsty works. We've been working on this for a while (since mid January).

On this site, the disclaimers, legal notices, terms of service, and policies are basically the same as the ones for Tangst. Please note that by posting and/or commenting, you inherently agree to them.

This site is intended as a haven for the poets, storytellers, and general authors/writers of our growing community. It's a place to submit works and receive feedback and criticism.

Works posted on Tangst will also be posted here, just for a sense of continuity.

Happy writing!

Der Koenig des Totenreichs

Der König des Totenreichs

Or Why I don’t feel safe in bed

He said - I am what I am
We lie through our soul
With brutal honesty
And ruthless control
(Du bist immer markiert, mein Bruder)

Truth is a knife
Cuts through the bone and the tissue of lie
Music binds a soul together
Your body will work
It pounds through your mind

Your pupils like cat’s eye
Glitter in darkness
You shine in iniquity
You barter in sparkles

You search through your language it comes to your need
You search through your heart
Ripe red and bleeding and pumping and sweating

Cloven hoof and silver chills
Roll down your tongue and your spine and you sense
Razor shard edges take you aback
(Broken glass hurts most on Sunday mornings)
Taken back to a sunny day

Where the sun shone through the clouds
(Forever and ever, Amen)
With horns black as pitch
And relentless you charge through your guilt
The endless drum roll and trumpet and organ scream
Announce your approach

While lightning strikes the opposition
White holy light burns your face
Your scream is passion as pleasure
Tonight your torture comes to an end

I have a soldier,
a soldier boy sent off to war
to war
To warm
with fire-arm heat
his heart
might go down
in a b l a z e of glory.

But my bed is cold and empty.

Our connection as thin as the paper his letters are written on...
dirty, ink smudged,
worn out love.
My heart is his used bullet shell.

There are open arms offered to me here...
But if I took them.
Held them.
Let myself cry these oily tears...

That fragile dog chain between us...

Would snap.

Those hollow soldier's eyes.
Like two hour glasses
with all the sand run out-

would look out into the desert

Eyes thirsty,
For someone,
For some touch of home...
Would run dry

And he would b u r n out
in that b l a z e of glory.

For a traitor.
A traitor like me.
Weak-hearted heartland girl.

An enemy within.

O for the love of him am I put in such pain.
Odd that love should force such a breaking.
This breaking.
That will break both our hearts.

I have a soldier,
a soldier boy sent off to war
to war
to a war
while my mind fights battles of its own.

02:29:25 AM

Love Poem #4: Time Travel,or Don’t Ask What Happened to Love Poem #3, or for that matter parts II and III of This Poem

One night
I made the summer skyline stop changing.
the mountains were like
ripples in fabric
soft & explosive
and I reached upfrom the ground
with my free hand
and tied the moon to the pine trees,
and I unraveled the stars
and threaded them throughour hands
so we would have light wherever we went,
and I unwrapped
the black blanket of the sky
and draped it over our shoulders
so we would keep warm

And the vast green heavens
were exposed above us
and it felt like we were falling

so we held each other,
the starlight tangled among our fingers.

1:11:11 AM

i don't know if this is how we post, but oh well...

Twangs that rise and fall,
Notes meaning so much more than words can ever tell.
A passing thought beyond perception,
Captured in a sound as fleeting as the feeling,
What greater expression do the worldly posses?
No word can accurately describe such emotion.
And such is the precious value of song,
To fill in the gaps our language leaves behind.

Butterfly allies, glowing under yellow twinkle lights.
Cobblestone lanes, ivy covered walls.
Hanging flowers attached to terracota rooves.
Love in a green glass bottle,
Hold it to the light and watch it float and flutter.
Uncork the bottle, let the bug escape.
See it soar towards the swirly dotted sky.
Bye Bye butterly.

This is merely early waiting
For a time that is yet to come,
As the world unwinds and comes undone.
Early waiting in the shadows of the mind,
Stinging our early opened eyes.
Time unravels for waiters be-
The enders of life, humanity.
Gone with the early sight by impatient eyes,
The early waiters are but we,
Waiting for the end that has yet to come.

01:15:14 AM

Worn smooth by feet (and hard by weight),
The path is old that tread we now
But Blindness and the Light allow
That like all others, each with each,
We learn what (can’t be taught) can teach:
How, stumbling, Blinded, for (another) hand to reach.
And so it goes: what we can’t know, but only learn
Each day by day, to give what neither one can earn
And by those gifts be left with more.
–How curious is this untaught math
That governs o’er this unseen path,
Both known by many feet and hands before.

11:45:45 AM

A whirling dervish.
Oh for one.
And yet it rains with-
Oh for one.

A spinning top-
Of jeweled bells.
How it sparkles.
It rings the dells.

But purity is found-
Beneath sheaves of sound,
Attached on doors,
And piled on floors.

A whirling dervish.
Of jeweled bells in sound.
Of sounds that echo silently.
Of floors that glisten-
And spin.

09:29:07 PM

Love Poem #2

i do not know you but i know your hands.
i know fingers flowing along lines of touch discovering sandstone ridges of fingerprints i know joints and the curve of knuckles
i know the creases underneath the way i know the layout of my childhood home and thus i know that the bones beneath your skin could be my own.

8:23:42 PM