i wonder if you know that the same route
to your house in the daylight is different at
night. the road turns to currents and the
buildings are coral blooming in their lawns,
the sand gardens. the headlights of cars
are tiny fish catching the edges of mirrors
in the water’s light, bleeding white and gold
that fogs the windshield, an ethereal tide of
loss and shadow and muffled music.
i wonder if you know the second time i went
to see you i couldn’t swim fast enough. you
make me feel lightheaded, you turn my lung
over in your palm until it becomes a windpipe,
you smother my piccolo heart until it pierces a
hole through the sky with its sound. i’m spinning
out through my ears for you, rushing to a beat
with drunken feet, wide eyed and slick bird winged
with a panicked pulse. it was still warm and i guess
the weather tricked me into thinking it was a
temperature my kind could survive in, for you.
i wonder if you know when i saw you in the
doorway you looked more brilliant than all
the shimmering roadsigns from my best
unmapped memory, uncharted like your
wildflower stem wrists. i’d like to get lost
in your underwater mind, wade in the
swampy sadness with my fingers
twisted in algae. we’re not that different,
i wish you knew. you are more magnificent
than every hello and goodbye carved
from any mouth, soft or difficult, shy or
unabashed. when you saw me take my
steps your smile curved like a castle
letting down it’s drawbridge. how did
i convince myself that was a good thing?
i knew you were waiting for something.
i knew you were waiting for someone, but
i never would have guessed all you waited
for from me was for me to pass you by,
to get out of your sight so you could watch
the street roll and pull rain from the overhead
lights into ripples that reminded you of a
different time, a better time, a time before me
when you were happy. but the past isn’t always
as good as we remember it, i hope you know
that. i never would’ve said that to your face
because it was too beautiful to deface with
such a tar-slung sentence.
i wish i was a writer.
i wish i could sing.
i wish i could have done something, anything
to be the ribbon sent across the sky flying
like a star stained lighthouse beacon,
one you couldn’t forget, wrapping you
up on the glassy surface, keeping you
afloat in the present, banishing dark
underneath, sweeping away sharp
rocks, shark teeth.
your heart it calls it beacons
for someone to warm it up
is hand you a sweater made with love
from my needle pricked fingers just to turn those sad lonesome eyes in to sunsets to turn a frown into a sunshine
there will me no more
suddenly from my lonesome will come a product of care
nothing can stop the barriers that have been put up have come crashing down
the flood of love has rocked your boat and taken you by storm
this can't be it
it was just a needle prick
it has to be harder than this
Sometimes I'm sad and I want to die, and sometimes my heart feels so heavy I'm afraid it'll turn to stone.
Yet when I look at you, my stomach sheds the butterflies it housed inside, and I feel not so afraid.
I told you I felt bad for not mourning death, but I felt better when you said you felt the same.
I felt special, when you told me about your crush, but how it could never work,
because he's not like "us".
Like we are part of the same entity, part of the same space, of sinew and matter.
Like you thought I was special enough to be part of you.
That was the greatest thing you could have said to me, except that one time, when you told me;
"I could love someone like you."
Sometimes I'm afraid to say goodbye
Even though there's nobody to say goodbye to
I'm scared of not making it
Even though the only way out is through
I feel like I'm the burnt bulb
In a row of Christmas lights
And I'm not afraid of death
Because I'm afraid of life
I don't need showers
Because I bathe in my tears
And sometimes I wish all of my wallowing
Will somehow disappear
The way I treat myself
To some is unbecoming
But the only way to preserve my sanity
Is to make everything numbing
When I wake up in the morning
My insides feel hollow
And I feel that way till I close my eyes
And I'll repeat that routine tomorrow
Everyone else around me
Seems happy as can be
They've made it through the door of content
For that, I'll need a key
They seem to have all worries behind them
While I'm under a raincloud
I want to be happy like them
But I guess I'm not allowed
I'm going to have to say goodbye
Even though there's nobody to say goodbye to
I'm afraid I'm not going to make it
Because I can't seem to make it through
she was soaking in the crimson red bath
and it wasn’t water
it wasn’t champagne either
rewinding to the day
he went running in the wood with his son
laughing, joking they were
the sky turns rouge
just like the color of her cheek
blushing from the heat of the oven
waiting for them at home
It all happened so fast
If his mind is like the black box on the aeroplane
then they found
a flash of an animal
startled by his car headlights
frozen to the spot
then what once lucid became the color of her hair
snow white’s jet-black.
fast forward to the day
two old couples sitting side by side
no words were uttered
it’s the most beautiful time of the year
outside was a celebration of color
lights flickering yellow
Christmas trees viridescence
the child’s cherry colored pom pom
but all that got a shade brighter
thanks to heaps and heaps of snow
not ivory but transparent
like those droplets
running from the corner of the dad’s eyes.
the currency of the mind.
In my eyes
the flaws are what drive me crazy,
to me the true beauty of a woman is her flaws,
what distinguishes her from the next.
Every man desires a beautiful woman
but no man desires a flawless woman.
And when you find that woman and fall in love with her flaws,
you have then found a flawless woman.
Imperfection is everyones most brutally beautiful feature.
So thank you,
for being perfect,
not for the world,
but perfect for me
I was walking tonight,
When I stumbled, across
A bird with a broken wing,
Lying, twitching, on the ground.
I had travelled this path
Almost a hundred times,
Taking in the night air,
Listening to the sound of nothing.
Never had I thought to look
Down, down at my feet.
Where Man and Earth meet,
And fallen souls lay strewn across the ground.
Tonight began as most
Days and nights do,
Ambling along, with my usual
Ignorantly blind caprice.
Then, into my heart,
As if a whisper from the stars,
The melancholic song
Of a fragile soul did enter.
Though faint at first
Its mournful seed did grow,
Until the aching muscle could
No further onward go.
Down my gaze fell
Resting beautifully on her broken wing.
But a pain like none before
I saw deep in her eyes,
She, a flightless bird
In human guise.
Placing her gently
In my soft palm,
So there I did heal
Her fragile arm.
And together we sang
throughout the night,
Wishing our harmony
Would the morning fight.
But knowing all too well,
That men dwell on Earth
And birds soar the Heavens,
We shared one last embrace.
As stars began to fade
The shades to recede
So forth the light
And then to the morning sky she returned,
But here, in our breasts, was Love now confirmed.
I don't understand.
Am I the only one?
Who doesn't agree with society
When the day is done.
Bulging hip bones are key,
With gaps in our thighs.
But have you ever thought,
"Happiness can't exist,
With out a man by your side.
And you can't get a man,
Unless you put down those fries.
But have a good time,
Go smoke and drink.
Have you tried this drug?
It's better than you think.
And don't get a job,
Or save all your money.
Just meet the right guy,
And there you go honey!
But he wants a certain girl,
Flawless and stunning.
So go buy this makeup,
And your in the running.
By the second date.
Open your heart.
And open your legs,
Your relationship will start.
He'll always love you,
And he says it all the time,
Luckiest girl in the world,
With a hot guy by her side.
All muscle and gorgeous,
It's just perfect,
No fights, just love,
This was totally worth it."
You you really want that?
Hate to break it to you,
But that's total crap.
Reality isn't this life,
It's fantasy if that.
Society is a demon,
That tells you your fat.
It's a size you can't fit.
It's a race you can't win.
It's a pathway death,
From girls dying to be thin.
No one can fit the standards,
That's how money is made.
Society feeds on that,
And innocent people that paid.
Guys and girls.
Of every age,
Feel the affects,
Of society's rage.
And yes I said guys.
They too feel the hate.
If they don't have the look,
Girls don't wanna date.
"Too fat, too thin,
Where's the 6-pack?
Yeah nice personality,
But who wants that?"
I want that.
Yeah I said it.
That's real love,
And that's where I'm headed.
I want a long life,
I look a head,
And yes I want to enjoy it,
Before I lie dead.
Your journey is not over
When your thirty or forty
You might have kids to raise,
You have to get up in the morning.
You get to grow old,
With a husband you love.
The one you married,
For the brains up above.
Not for the looks,
Because time fades it.
But for the personality.
That's what is truly infinite.
He should love the same way.
No pressure, no harm.
And if he ever does,
It should sound an alarm.
Because your better than that.
And don't compare.
I know its hard.
So be prepared.
I'm here to warn you,
Of the road your traveling.
You will hit a dead end,
And life will leave you straggling.
Change your ways now,
Open your eyes,
To the truth of life,
When there's snow on the ground,
you are the ocean
you are too large,
for frost to move
more than polar parts of you.
You will struggle to swim to the equator,
but once you get there
suns are high,
and you will be warm and cozy;
But, more than once
the tide will drag you to your arctic.
and I will kiss you through your shivers
but nothing I can do
will stop your blood from running cold.
but baby, it will pass.
You are the ocean,
and ships have recked
to kiss your curves
and love has been made
inside your blood
and one day
you will love the way
you shudder without cause
and you will find beauty
in your hurricanes,
even if that day is not today.
I could right a thousand sonnets
about the way it feels
when your blue hands hug my hips
and your salty lips brush my neck.
So when your lost
in your dark blue,
remember that there are those,
dreaming of your turquoise.
and I am wading in your shallows
to brace your raging torrent,
and remind you
that baby, you are the ocean,
and the storms will always pass.
Now mind is clear
as a cloudless sky.
Time then to make a
home in wilderness.
What have I done but
wander with my eyes
in the trees? So I
will build: wife,
family, and seek
perish of lonesomeness
or want of food or
lightning or the bear
(must tame the hart
and wear the bear).
And maybe make an image
of my wandering, a little
image—shrine by the
roadside to signify
to traveler that I live
here in the wilderness
awake and at home.
"My birthday is in 5 days :3 I get excited like a kid ((:"
"You are like the sun light streaking through my window of life every morning, reminding me how blessed I am.... "
"My vocabulary linguistics can't fathom let alone transcend into expression the intense profound passion driven emotions I feel for you. It's called love, with a pinch of deep passion <3"
"The intensity of the feeling, the warmth in my stomach every time I say I love you, the passion of my heart ... It's like a very new and different, special feeling.. "
"I know you are smiling, you were smiling reading what I had to say and that's exactly how I know you look the most beautiful - smiling <3"
"I was at the hospital today, the doctor said I'd be fine. Don't ask for what or why, please."
"Best of luck........"
All the stuff you used to say to me. Everything.
I have them all imprinted on my mind,
in that secret corner that I dedicated as the space for you.
It's all there, everything.
From the first word you said to me,
till the last word.
They're all there, spinning around in my mind.
I woke up this morning with a tear stained face.
It seems like that's the only way I find myself
when I'm all alone or when I wake up these days,
With a tear stained face.
This morning, I washed away the tear stains and put on a big smile.
Pretended that I was okay. That nothing was bothering me.
What they say is true,
"the happiest of them are the ones who cry themselves to sleep."
You should talk to my pillow some time.
It'll tell you the truth.
That you're all I think about when I'm asleep.
You're always on my mind.
You've given me too much to remember, I can't forget you now.
It's too hard. I take this as punishment for letting you go.
9th December 2013 now.
At this exact moment, you're no longer 16.
15 more days, and I'll be as old as you were just 15 days before.
You're One year older than me.
I'm One year younger than you.
Wait for me to catch up please.
This race with time is driving me crazy now.
It's moving too fast.
I'm tripping too much.
I'm falling too hard.
It's getting harder to get up every day.
But I wont stop.
No matter what, I'll keep running.
'Cause I live with a hope that you'll come back some day.
They say you wont. That I'm being stupid. But deep in my heart,
I know you will come back. I really do.
Prove them wrong, my love. Come back.
And we'll knucklebump one more time and start off from right where we left,
Cause after you get here, nothing will be wrong again.
Till you get back, I'll just settle down by wishing you a very happy birthday [on here].
December comes around again, the snow blankets the earth in a heavenly glow.
Each day seems to get colder, and I would be so much warmer if you were still here.
There’s a familiar loneliness that comes with the season,
I always seem to forget until it’s finally here.
I’m left to resort to whiskey are cigarettes for warmth,
since you went away.
Fingers and thumbs tapping out messages
so many texts written, so many read, smiles apart
faces, eyes, feelings, never shared
music videos; lips and music separate
empty sounds, never tugging the heart strings.
Thumbs and fingers keying in distance
so much data, so little experience shared, time apart
laptops, smart phones, processing emptiness
unfeeling, sampling blandness, subtleties lost
empty words, crowding our lives.
Curves, flowing lines and spaces, passion
squashed out are the senses
sweat and smells, laughter lost.
All in the empty kingdom of bits and bytes
reigned by the gods of technology
the mantra being faster, faster
all fingers and thumbs in the affairs of the heart.
As surely as we are propelled forward
back to the dark ages
the dark castles of aloneness
Empty words, lost in the cells of our separation
all fingers and thumbs.
I guess it's always been like that
You cry, I laugh
But tonight I hated your face
You tried to hold back the tears when you saw it
It was just one of my many scars
I started laughing
You still don't know about the rest
Or why they are on my body
Only I know that
Such a beautiful girl
With tears that runs down her pretty face
The ice blue eyes look so much colder
But yet so much more alive
And I'm responsible
An ugly face
With an even uglier smile
And a hideous laugh
You asked me why
I didn't really have an answer you'd understand
You said 'you're ruining your body'
Once again I started laughing
Feeling the tears from my own eyes creep closer
It's kind of ironic
You don't want me to ruin my body
Oh but darling it's already so broken
I'm just trying to build it up again
In a way that you would never understand
I'm sorry that you saw it
I don't want you to think that
I'm asking for help
Or that I'm weak
I'm sorry in a way that you will never understand
Talking to you scares me;
Not because it causes pain;
Not because you're just too different;
But because it feels the same;
You make me smile;
You're making me believe;
That the world isn't lost;
And I don't have to leave;
But its two different worlds;
Montague and Capulete;
We are like the rewrite;
Of Romeo and Juliet;
Where their hearts didn't touch;
And their eyes didn't meet;
And they lived the rest of their lives;
With a hearts lonely beat;
Like chess we are at check mate;
Checking for another fate;
As I look to my king;
I'm your queen to take;
I love not for the way;
You dance with my angels;
But for how at you name;
All of my demons fell;
I'm worried about this;
About how much I care;
Because there will be a day;
When you are not there;
Its happened before;
And it'll happen again;
You will get up and leave;
When you have nothing to gain;
I said I would fall cautiously;
But you tripped me heart first;
So now I'm spinning in colours;
And music that bursts;
Dreaming of moments;
That will never be real;
Because I'm re-learning to love;
While you're just re-learning to feel;
I'm just hoping this isn't a remake;
Of both of our pasts;
That broke both our hearts;
And tore both our souls
We live in eachothers shadows;
Because we know the fake light;
There is no pretenses here;
Just our feelings without sight;
I know every part;
Of your dark twisted soul;
Just as you know mine;
And know we aren't alone;
So we'll fight all out demons;
And we'll dance with our fears;
As we balance our lives on a string;
As we hold back the tears;
We'll be broken together;
As you hold together my heart;
I'll keep healing your soul;
Not together, never apart…
I'm not out to project my own down going.
I love him whose soul is fickle despite chance
As the world's retort.
When they told me how you got cut
I bought enough drugs to put monster under
and celebrated for the both of us.
They weren't my limbs that were lost
but I reached for and sprinted towards
a wholesome grief
and couldn't carry it all.
Took me a month to even talk
Poetry sounds so selfish
When you are needed to help another walk.
The first night, a friend had called
Said, "Get it all out
For tomorrow you have to be strong."
Sorry ain't enough and my sorrow's only purpose
is as a reminder for what needs to be done
And to forget about any lesser want.
My darling, I can't know without losing my leg
In a hit and run
But I know now you wear the same smile as before
My god how could I have known something
With such a fragile frame
Could be so tough.
Most folks, myself, a poet included,
Speak of greater reasons
And ponder tragedy's meaning.
She knows she doesn't deserve all she is made to
And I've found the greater ungodly glory
Most folks are looking for
In her unbroken joy.
hard to place this constant ire rising from ashes of a fire not quite, yet felt
stir into that melting pot the sum of miscellany unknowns
all wrought from the unsweet gifts of quotidian sighs
no need to wrap the present, baby, for it's already here
twinkling in the birth of every moment
we hardly know it nor acknowledge
so busy wrenching pain from secret places the darkness loves to keep
yesterday brought unsought smiles of outer space dust
then space in pushed into the blue spit bubble of crayfish folly
and fear frozen into place on cauldroned cheeks
as tendons pulled fury tight on a cocky bounty's cry
I want to carry that sweet loading joy
which scorches my receptiveness in astringent non reciprocation
I die to please that spangled energy so much
which holds back its cagey kernel, far from my prying hands
I kneel to take in out of the blue blessings
which fall slapdash on this preoccupied trajectory, forever waiting in sozzled hope
I take the package you flash and cast heavy
which leave sweltering whiplines across my insides
all fine, all just a fine melange
beneath your magic fontanelle lies a sunken cache
there are painfully few privy to that miracle
I live in hope of neither looping nor taking
but just to be happy to bear witness to the shiny array of your gem stock
you are like none other, inimitable and hard gemstone (inside)
a mix of purity stirred in crazy, along with star shine and fire sparks
my angel with honey eyes
The Tuner's Turn
he's tuned them all it seems
most of the 12,5oo different brands
he has tuned them even in his dreams
in damp basements and smoky band stands
Ballwin, Steinway, Schimmel and Mason
the very best there is to offer
Irving Strausser is the one to hasten
he is the master you want to proffer
a fine tinkler of the ivory in his own right
but never really ever given the chance
he practiced until dawn's early light
the best was a Holiday Inn wedding dance
he was in attendance that special night
at the Radio City Music Hall
he came to see the maestro's delight
but alas had tripped and fallen against the wall
the audience was antsy whistling and clapping hands
the producers were anxious not knowing where
they spotted Irving in the aisle hearing the demands
they begged him play they were in despair
he shook his head saying no certainly not me
I am just a tuner an amateur at best
they begged and pleaded for his sympathy
and well you can guess the rest
he finally took the stage the crowd settled in
he graciously bowed his head and explained the situation
after a few nervous moments he finally did begin
he played oh did he play to a standing ovation
his fingers flew over the keys like magic
this was the tuner's turn to take his place
some of the audience may forget his name
but they will always remember his face
today, you questioned me why i can't believe that i am vital to any equation
but that's just the thing, i need other people to validate that i am important
because i can’t do it for myself, i'm nineteen and already breaking down into
the components that created me, the dirt that failed to turn into a garden
weeds entangle around my body and dogs chew at my skin with knife like teeth
shooting up nirvana into my brain like opiates and spitting out black tar-like goo
it only looks black because my eyes are closed, i can't see how red the water is getting
how i'm this backwards concept of happy yet sorry for how i came out is beyond me
my understandings is this, life isn't something to be romanticized nor to be loathed
don't have feelings, any at all, and you'll do just fine in this narcisstic society
Her own desire led her astray,
a smile from him was enough to ignite the fire.
The serpent wrapped itself around her neck. She couldn't run away,
She thought they were the enemy, she found her society so dire.
"Why linger here? Why turn another page?" She though to herself.
She walked to where she first died,
and there she commited suicide.
cool to the touch
as i allow
to trail down
of your smooth skin;
almost like porcelain
to the touch,
you calmed me,
just being in the same vicinity as you
made me suddenly feel
overcome with a sense
and because of this,
i couldn't get enough of you;
i had never in my life
seen anything i regarded
as remotely close to
as beautiful as you were,
causing me to place you
on the highest of pedestals,
an insurmountable target
with which i used
every other person;
and none of them did;
you complemented a room
made me have to compliment you
for i have not once
come across something
an untainted piece of art
that i fear
will leave my life
sooner than i'd like,
by a stroke
of awful luck,
you'd been dropped
many a time
by undeserving people
that didn't recognize
the priceless masterpiece
they once had
to call their own,
to pick up the shattered pieces of yourself
and put them all back together
and while there are scars,
permanent indents and grooves
endlessly reminiscing previous pain,
i am not deterred in my quest
to show the whole world
what a magnificent specimen you are.
and because of this,
i vow to cradle you,
to protect you,
and to love you;
and i'll hope, every week,
that you like the flowers
i got for you to hold
(they glimmer well
with the hint of your eyes)
when the light
from the early morning sun
illuminates every corner
of those daisies,
and more importantly,
the beautiful vaselike angel
as if she's the only thing
keeping them from
the rest of the world;
the parts of reality
that don't notice,
that don't realize
and the simple beauty
inside of both of them;
which is why, darling
with your broken past
you fear falling apart
but i promise
to keep you safe
you're my work of heart.
Long before Horus' exposure on its trunk
and the nailing of Jesus upon its grain,
rings have been added within the Tree
while people proclaim to hold the key
of salvation, a continually borrowed mythology
swallowed; a powerful sleeping pill
pulling the masses into slumber,
away from the obvious truth
that such supposed salvation
is a ticket far too easy to obtain,
a discriminatory damnation of souls
so blindingly righteous,
even the most vengeful, maniacal deity
would draw the line there.
So many people hand-out the easy tickets,
cut and light the tree --
a hypodermic injection of selfish memories
mixed into mortar for temples designated as sacred,
but the elements are desecrated by swirling sewers,
by shears amputating roots from the sky.
Too many people preach, judicate, proclamate,
hold signs pointing towards a cheap, polystyrene heaven,
while only a few walk the narrow path,
live the sacrifice because it feels right.
Again and again,
the ticket isn't so easy,
we must put aside our slumber-crutches,
stop watching the few carry the rest
upon their backs until bones creak and groan
from the weight of people waiting for salvation
to be handed to them.
27 years, a branch in the road, 46664 etched into its bark.
The forked doors opened,
a living, breathing gospel
brought down fences,
and even then the wood was made into crutches
for people to say,
"M will fix it, M will do this, M will do that,
M will save us, just wait and see."
But M is finally free, yes, he is free!
Free, but not lost to us,
always surviving as spirit-seeds.
We must no longer lean upon crutches,
instead purge the pill from our blood
and awaken into gardeners who water the seeds
within the soil of our souls,
before the vision withers completely,
and we remain only as husks
waiting to be hydrated by watering cans
held in hands too weak to lift the weight....
held in our own hands all along,
held in our hands all along.
December 7th/8th, 2013
Society made me.
Society made me who I am.
They made me do it.
I did as they told me to do.
Was I busty enough?
Was I sexy enough?
I had to show them how it's done.
I had to be worthless
to be worth someone's time.
I had to do all of those things
so they would like me.
But they didn't,
they never did.
They are ripping my clothes off,
trying to take what is left of me.
There's so little left.
I barely see it anymore.
No rays of light,
It's worse when they aren't here.
When I look in the mirror,
I'm not there.
I don't think I'm here either.
I seek temporary comfort,
cold and lifeless.
Oh you don't want to know.
I should get help,
but there's no reason to anymore.
I don't need help.
I am awake in this nightmare,
and nothing will get me out.
It is my burden to carry with me.
I'll be loved,
just not now.
I want to feel beautiful.
I don't want to be another object.
I want to break my walls that I am trapped in.
I just can't.
I'm not strong enough.
I let it all come down upon me.
I have no anchor.
Society made me.
Society made me who I am.
"I'm fine." is her response.
but, she isn't. she's just hoping to convince herself that she is, when she smiles and tells them she's fine. Just to ease her little mind, she's puts on a mask. She folds up all of her problems and disappointments and shoves them away. Just for the day. Thinking maybe, just for now, she could be happy. Thinking if she forces that fake smile, it would one day become genuine. a real smile. A genuinely happy smile. That's all she ever wanted. But the thing is, nobody knows. nobody knows who she is inside, or how hard it is for her. Not her parents, not her best friend. Because she wears a disguise. And because if they knew, they'd say she's exaggerating. She wants attention. She's just having a bad day. well the bad day turned into a bad night. A bad week. A bad month. A bad year. But she doesn't want a bad life. She doesn't try to make herself miserable. She tries really hard to be happy. Sometimes too hard. She's learned not to expect anything from anyone, because with great expectation comes great disappointment. So much disappointment. Enough to make her sadness turn into emptiness. she's rather be sad than empty.
I remember you
as the drop of rainfalls
start tearing from the dark sky
as the smell of the cold water
start spreading all over the ground
as the flowers start dropping
some particles of fading dew
I remember you
in the middle of bonfire
in the back of my thin footprints
in the snowflakes that stick on the pale trees
and the icy ground of a cold winter
I remember you
like the field of green grass
beneath the ray of sun
like the warm breeze in a spring day
like the bunch of sunflowers
that you drive along the path
and they turn around to see your smile
I remember you
in the happiest moment and the darkest hour
But you will never remember me
and I will never be
the rain, snowflakes or the sunflowers
that you gaze upon so longingly
Her eyes are small bite pieces of chocolate and I want to call her eye candy but I have stopped objectifying women because I found a woman who is sweet as she is strong.
She grazes my earlobe back and forth until I smile. We are in her bed, tired from lovemaking, happy from lovemaking, indulgent from lovemaking.
Her forehead is touching my cheekbone and her legs have tangled my leg and I hope they stay that way forever.
Her cream colored blanket keeps us warm and secure from the bitter cold of a December Sunday.
She traces her thumb over my lower lip and I tremble with satisfaction. Her hand slips under the blanket and inside my black slacks. She grabs a hold of my penis.
She pushes my head toward her face so that my eyes lock on to her eyes. Those small bite pieces of chocolate melting my soul, making me quiver a pleasure that is immeasurable and nuanced.
Sultry dreams on hot summer evenings,
as wishes on moonbeams take their flight.
Spiraling upward to dance amongst stars,
in a glorious ballet that has no finale.
Ocean’s receding tides cool a body,
heated by a lover’s ardent touch.
With joyful laughter as the couple play,
at the edge of Mother Earth’s bath.
Hand in hand as eyes meet and cling,
hungrily beneath a brightly lit sky.
Passion ignites the fire in their hearts,
setting the embers to glow once more.
Sinking into the sand as hands and lips,
discover each other’s hidden treasures.
Excitement explodes, as love’s scent upon
the breeze is inhaled deliriously by both.
Dawn’s rising sun brings reality, replacing
love’s aftermath with lonely indents in cool,
wet sand, which the tide quickly fills and levels,
Till no sign remains, of a fantasy shared by two.
By Kathleen M. Kohl/Levinski
We desire the things that will destroy us in the end
It's funny how we protect those who hurt us I think it's because we think there constantly trying to change that imperfection we have with in us how ironic
They told me it would be fun I wouldn't ever forget the feeling, this feeling, they said I'd be cool if I did it, and how I feel cool the cold night air as soft as cotton when it touches my skin but as sharp as knives as the cool cuts to the bone I can see every thing clear as day as if the sun was at my back showing me a new perspective I think that's why I can see the stars shiny behind the thick clouds. I can almost hear them whisper their singing heavenly tunes with the rushing river playing percussion with the river rocks which drummed and the claps of the rips which match every color I've ever seen even the new ones in front of me
i feel like i could fly and belive me i tried every time i landed the grass under my bare cold feet were having tickle fights with my toes there rugged wet tips almost like a dogs tounge licked and my soles they were winning, I the meekest of the meek was now the king of all I Survey and as I watched my kingdom of color, shape and sound they started to take shape of my "friends" all laughing with tears in there eyes I thought it was another one of my renditions of how I perceive things them seemed so real I could almost feel their breaths as they laughed even more hysterically their laughter seemed to shack me to my core so I called out to ask what was the joke
the sky spits at me with great disgust I want to ask why but I could not hear my self over the now screams of my "friends" they matched the screams of banshies and nails on a chalk board I mixture of millions of off pitch piano keys I was In pain a pain I had never experienced before it was every were on my body no fixed place no origin site but raw utter pain I held with all my might it still was no competition for there screeches, I wanted so much to rip off my ears but befor I could for a brief moment i felt at peace one with all and all in me then every thing went black no songs now vivid colors no feeling of anything just darkness then when I woke I saw a bright light took me a second to realize I was back to normal the sun was up but it did not greet me the grass was cool but it didn't fight I felt lonely I check my phone for any massages,
"how was it""do you want more" I thought about all the hell I went through all the pain I felt then I remembered that feeling I wanted to feel it again no I needed to feel it again so with out a second thought I answered "yes" it's funny how we want what will destroy us in the end it's just human nature
A bad trip.
why does love have to start and end so quickly?
My heart has always been for you
See those stars, I see those in your eyes.
You light the sky,my world
We started growing together then rotted apart
How have our seeds parted ways
how do we get back to where we were?
Nights like this I lay thinking of you I wonder if you out there too
My dream is you why wont you make that come true?
Your words hurl rocks at me but I run to you for shelter.
You were always supposed to keep me close not hurt me
You are what I need but is it what I want ?
Many can change but how do I know this is true?
This storm has come many times and I have never found safety.
My heart is aching for you, how do I know if its too soon...
my affection for him is as deep as the color
the red flower, that he gave to me on the
way to school on a warm spring morning,
had turned into after a year of being pressed
between the pages of my father's favorite book.
the flower was soft, vibrant, vivacious. it
somehow reminds me of the way i used
to be up until a few years ago. later it turned dead,
dark and dull, but still very lovely. it looked fragile,
as if the delicate object would crumble down
to the floor with just a light touch. It stained the
pages of the book my father loved so dearly.
he stained me, a daughter who spent the entire
evening of the next day, screaming and sobbing
in the kitchen, begging for my mother to believe
that i've done nothing wrong. my friend threw
the carnation into the trash can, it was probably for
the best. but it's quite often that i find myself
thinking about how much of a comfort that flower
could have been in these few years of his absence.
The passage is dark and deep
Forever going in the darkest dreams
The rooms all different
All bathed in the half light
As I'm dragged along
Twisting and contorting
To see it all before I'm gone
A room with knives
And on solitary chair
Where I would sit and loving stare
It leads to a room of headless snakes
A twirling kaleidoscope
Of red and green
Tinged in death
The room in which
I was locked
The door is stuck
I am weak
There is no
way to escape
of haunting halls
Leading down the hall again
Leads us to a room in which
Indian movies music played
The screen danced and flicked
while your body flicked along,
foam crawling out your mouth
eyes rolling back
In this boys dream
a mother screams
And I can do nothing,
Of youth and age and memories
Another door yet to open
of sickness repression
Of warmth and senses
Smell taste touch
The heat burns of this childish lust
The wolf froths and growls
Its teeth glisten
And I scream
A dream within a dream
We climb up the stairs
as they curve and crack
splinters of this dream
ever more it will seem
never real to me
of a room within a room
the tiniest doors for tiny hands and tiny dreams
I but ever small
The room has shrunken
and I will ever crawl
It begins in earnest now
the part I play as poet
soon quick atones me
an impatient fool like me
Breaking the barriers
so wanting to feel
inside my barren mind
full of so many lies
This insecure madness
a million miles from reality
this snot monster
from the edge of time
Watch my self destruction
as I try to help myself
in the monuments of time
where real justice gives credence
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
House plants are hostages
we take while we rob
the bank of life for
all the experience notes we
can carry safely away.
We are using the funds
to build our vivarium
homes, microcosms of
the world beyond our walls
where we first glimpsed
The machinery of the world,
greased by blood and sweat,
remains beyond our control
while at large, yet
under our close supervision
we coax submission
out of our captives for
our own enjoyment:
selfish, ambivalently cruel
benefactors, dispensers of
our plants' waters of life.
there once was a pyromaniac
he lit himself on fire
he should have panicked
but everything was just brighter
he lived from day to day
yearning to add to the pyre
he knew it to be easy
with a touch it would spread wildfire
but he was no devil
he could control his desire
so he lived in agony
even when his need grew dire
he'd never intrude unwelcome
almost like a vampire
but he was far too kind and reticent
to trap a victim whom he would squire
he scared them all away
with apathy and satire
he was too familiar with the anguish
his fire would inspire
he wanted to protect the beautiful souls
from the harm of its ire
he let his fire burn him to the ground
leaving nothing to quench the inquire
he watched as his fire ashed
his wings and invisibly divine attire
he let it consume him
there once was a pyromaniac
he lit himself on fire
he was resolutely resilient
he drove himself to the pyre
but in his final breath
he heard no lyre
he was a fool
that no one could admire
there once was a pyromaniac
he lit himself on fire
i would have held his hand
together nothing could conquer us, not the world, not a fire
I get nervous around you.
I feel my heart drop to my stomach.
Your smile warms my heart
And freezes time.
You have eyes like no other
They stare deep inside of me
They know my deepest secrets
And my most broadest details.
The way you look at me
Like you miss me
Like you hate me
Like youre unsure of what love really means
You can lie to yourself all you want
I'm still with you
The reminisce of me haunts you at night
You love me
But you have that macho man way of life
So you can't love me.
But you want to
The way your lips move
Is like no other.
Its smooth like a hockey puck on ice
Its words travel like teenage kids trying to escape
Something I know you wanna do.
Everything you say,
Everything you do,
Leads me to believe
You just want to leave.
Hide your demons they'll haunt you forever
You can never escape them even if you're clever
You're trapped in the fears of your own mind
Maybe the condition you don't want anyone to find
You hide it from your family but you don't realize
They've known it for years to doubt this is unwise
Just remember your demons are there
I offered to help you but you didn't care
My heart went out to you in times of despair
Your anger and denial you displayed with your glare
You prefer to hide in your own pride
But your demons will never be on your side
She's so happy with the teeth dear
Now they're perfect, pearly white
And she's looking at the rest dear
'Cos she's heard of Mack the Knife
It's those crows feet round the eyes oh
Keep those boobies way out of sight
And those wondrous thunder thighs oh
They're going under Mackey's knife
She's been thinking of her friends babe
Dearest Lotte and sweet Lucy Brown
Oh how jealous they will be babe
Once old Mackey's gone to town
She's withdrawing all her stash now
She'll be poor but look so right
Someone's taking all her cash now
And that someone's Mack the Knife
Sometimes, I am very impulsive
And sometimes, even compulsive
Can you imagine, that I am imperfect?
It all must be shocking to you all, for sometimes, I am who I am
Sometimes, I am very dark and somewhat confusing
And sometimes, I just don’t know when to stop refusing
But, does that make me so much different than you ?
Oh man , it must be shocking that sometimes, someone like me is someone like you
Sometimes, I can be aggressive
Or even sometimes, I can be incredibly passive
But, imagine that sometimes, me being me, is someone like you
And at the end of the day, sometimes, and I mean sometimes, is someone like you
Sometimes, I wonder if you are listening.
Sometimes, these deep dark entrenching vines crush me
I could only wish that sometime you will listen to me
It is all so plain to see; and sometimes, I blow things our of proportion but, now, you aren't glistening
Sometimes you understand me; Have the tides finally turned?
Changing into something hoping you realize that sometimes we are both deranged
I feel sometimes, that my life, and your life, need to be rearranged
And some time, maybe one day, you will finally accept me
behind the clouds
willing and waiting.
on the beach
gracing the sand,
steady and warm.
She was reluctant
struck by her love
and afraid to say it.
He was reluctant
hurt by past love
and afraid to jump in.
She was wet eyes
and open ears
fragile but resilient.
He was a strong face
and a scarred mind
strong but misunderstood.
She was green eyes
iridescent in the daytime
twinkling in the night.
He was green eyes
hiding in the daytime
opening in the night.
She was deep, endless
ready for anything
He was reserved,
hurt and unsure
We met by chance
and I'm still
trying to figure out
what we are.
Touch my universe
Touch my reality
My reality's a bubble
Touch my everything
Touch my nothing
I want you to throw me to the fires of digital
I want you to kick me into a hole of downloads
I want you to punch me with a fist, full of beautiful status updates
I want your numbers to fall on my chest from fifteen-hundred miles away
I want computer components to crush my legs
Blank thoughts encumbered in darkness
the allure of prismed light
flashes before my eyes.
Gems and pearls
fall from the clouds
while the sunset
still remains at midnight
courts pure hope, chasing both
up puzzling flights of stairs
jaded pages, and crystallized doors
tempting, desires whisper
to the angels of hell
I turn left
weighing harmony and hell
just as sweet
honey drizzled hummingbirds
zipping around a live wire.
I have been eating flowers recently and hoping that one day I will be able to restart the garden in my heart that you tore apart. The light will shine again and roses will bloom to the steady staccato beat of my pulse, daisies and sunflowers rising up from the ground to create their own sunrise. Pale pink buds of tulips and bright blue violets will paint my veins with vivid life, the world beautiful again, the air fresher, my heart better.
The more I consume, the less there is of you and more of nature; earth taking over to heal the hurt in my soul. I tell myself this will work, it will succeed eventually; but inside the core of everything there is the pin prick of reality that leads me back to the truth.
For despite everything, I still love you.
First, last, always.
I've made so many mistakes
They could equal the freckles on my body
That's a lot
And I've screwed up so many times
That they could equal the entire galaxy
That's a lot too
But I can't keep doing this
Not to you
You're too kind for this
You are much nice than I am
I'm not sure why you chose me
Or why we are together
I mean, it's like a lion and a tiger
They are opposites
And nature didn't intend it
But when they are put together
Something beautiful happens
They get a liger
And that's pretty special
when time starts to slumber foward
a revealation too great to walk
perseverance spirals into a void
clocks tick backwards
but your mind wanderes in the future
a time in the future
a moment in the past
an hour of the present
the channeling of fate
sometimes everythings just perfect
the music is sweet to the soul
the body wants to move
a tear of joy
after winter is spring
the trees dance and the flowers smile
the spring sings songs of peace
silence in the loudest of heights
a time for dreadfulness
a time for raving
a time for serious thoughts
a time for plurfect
its good to not judge
acceptance of time as it is
peace is when you understand
you don't need to understand
a time for experiencing
a time for understanding
Lay next to me stare into the abyss/
Hearing you breathing, a heart beat I did not miss/
Just relax babe while I set the record, play the hits/
Drift away, lay away, they stay away, we have our fits/
Tell me about your family, when was the last time you saw your little sis?/
You cock your shotgun skirt, lift your shirt and blow me to bits/
Putting our clothes back on and you look at me, make it clear you're still a wicked witch/
Jingle Bells and Mistletoe
Christmas songs galore
Plastic crap marked down again
Sales in every store
Santa Claus in Shopping Malls
Photos for the hoards
Teenage girls dressed up like elves
Looking rather bored
Hollydaze, Oh Hollydaze
Get me through the Christmas Craze
Hollydaze, Oh Hollydaze
I can not take much more
Christmas shows and pantomimes
Put on by theater groups
Old actors who we used to know
How low will these folks stoop?
Boxing Day and crazy crowds
Houses lit up like the park
Even when the power's off
They still glow in the dark
Hollydaze, Oh Hollydaze
Get me through the Christmas Craze
Hollydaze, Oh Hollydaze
I can not take much more
Charity is on the wane
People confuse want with need
The population's gone insane
They're full of Christmas greed
Snowmen out in the front yard
Decorating Christmas Trees
Carollers from up the church
...that is Christmas Time to me
Hollydaze, Oh Hollydaze
Get me through the Christmas Craze
Hollydaze, Oh Hollydaze
I can not take much more
What can I say,
I love the attention of temptation.
because I am the one holding the apple
granting the answers you seek.
Because I am curious to what bodies feel like
especially my own, made new by new hands.
This poison goes down with the sweetest burn,
hot and heavy, slowly dissolving
its always in the eyes.
And the drugs never work, quite the way you want them too.
With a numb throat I hold my words for ransom
We never quite reach out toward each other,
and never know why. There is only glimpses and smiles, and hearts quickening for a brief longing
that lasts til dawn
like spell, or perhaps a curse.
But we aren't in a fairy tail
and I'm too busy chasing my dreams
and befriending my nightmares,
to chase you.
I'm running with the wind.
"I met a boy who spoke like rain against windows."
Every syllable was the pitter patter of water on glass panes.
But the feeling he gave me was hurricanes on concrete.
"I met a boy who spoke like rain against windows."
The fluidity of the liquid would fill the crevices in my mind to the very tip and remind me that I was not alone.
You do not have to read the meniscus to look deeper into my being.
"I met a boy who spoke like rain against windows."
He formed his words and dragged them quietly across pavements, reminiscent of the deep tint of the clouds and the rumbling of thunder.
But when the sun came out,
I did not feel radiant
I felt alone.
isn't it interesting how the ocean eventually convinces the rocks to turn to dust?
or that with every drag of a cigarette, it eventually turns your lungs black
i just wish you could convince me to fall in love with you
but like the rocks turning into dust or your lungs turning black
falling in love takes time
and time is all we got
my fingers stroke
the curved flesh
so aching in
our breath held
static in the space
between my heart
a primal dissonance
finds serenity in the way
you graze my lips
the pull of your
hands against my
a tender, fleeting flower
once so stoic and tightly furled
is learning to breathe
go ahead and say it.
unsure, like slowly breaking
sneaks in around
the corners, here, i sit, still;
blind and idiotic and
so damn unsure.
moving in slow frames, bystanding certainties' presentations,
maybe i need this.
maybe i need you more than anything.
you ever need me, darling?
White are the far-off plains, and white
The fading forests grow;
The wind dies out along the height,
And denser still the snow,
A gathering weight on roof and tree,
Falls down scarce audibly.
The road before me smooths and fills
Apace, and all about
The fences dwindle, and the hills
Are blotted slowly out;
The naked trees loom spectrally
Into the dim white sky.
The meadows and far-sheeted streams
Lie still without a sound;
Like some soft minister of dreams
The snow-fall hoods me round;
In wood and water, earth and air,
A silence everywhere.
Save when at lonely intervals
Some farmer's sleigh, urged on,
With rustling runners and sharp bells,
Swings by me and is gone;
Or from the empty waste I hear
A sound remote and clear;
The barking of a dog, or call
To cattle, sharply pealed,
Borne echoing from some wayside stall
Or barnyard far a-field;
Then all is silent, and the snow
Falls, settling soft and slow.
The evening deepens, and the gray
Folds closer earth and sky;
The world seems shrouded far away;
Its noises sleep, and I,
As secret as yon buried stream,
Plod dumbly on, and dream.
.... ..... (Perfect stranger)
We knew (once)
We knew what the fuck was goin on
We still know
But the HORROR of it is beyond sanity
How is it done?)
Put the blade down and listen.!
Your crying's now but childish
The winds o'er the prairie soon shall be dead
The mountains shall fall down
We will be dead corpses in countless cities
Upon the starving streets
Hearts are Stone
The only ever child has returned to
Only the most simple
The most elementary
we are moving towards HOME
In a while
We shall be born again
Dreams haunt every aspect of my being
Dry my mouth becomes when I try to speak your name
Unfeeling to the blade that kisses my skin
Ugly oozes from the gashes on my arms
I'm a prisoner to the thoughts that rage inside my soul
Love is what I've felt for you but now it's gone
Death will show me the brightness of the stars
He will cherish me and make me grand in the world of the damned
Feelings will no longer matter where I'm going
I will no longer suffer
"I can see the life in you."
"It sort of leaks out of places."
Charlotte raises an eyebrow.
Okay, how so?"
Paul clears his throat.
"So you know how people like to
associate love with red, the color?"
"I guess so."
"Well, you just, like, glow red."
"That's called blushing. People do that, you know,
when they're embarrassed."
"No, this is different. It's not on your face."
"Where am I red?"
Paul looks at Charlotte.
He sees her large nose and her pigeon feet
And her brown hair everywhere
And her crooked teeth.
He sees the sunset from the week before on the Oregon coast in her eyes
And the tomato garden her mother used to keep
And the spot of early melanoma he found on her back a year before.
He sees the sneakers with the hole in the toe
That she bought for him and he remembers her words
Red makes you run faster
And he remembers his words to her
So that I can catch you?
Because she's always moving towards something brighter
Than he can force himself to look at.
He sees the door to her townhouse three blocks from his apartment
From his own stoop
Because she took a can of paint to it,
While her landlord wasn't watching.
The empty can sits on his desk full of stubs of Ticonderogas.
Paul looks at Charlotte.
"Well, how am I red?"
"The longer I know you the redder you get."
he doesn't see what she thinks of him.
what every little word does to her, or how she hooks on to his every word.
how him being close one day and distant the next kills her.
or how her disorder is blowing this out of proportion.
does he hear her stomach rumble?
does he see the gashes on her skin?
does he care?
she thought he was immune to her disorder because of how clearly she saw him.
but then, he changed.
or did she change?
not even the strongest prescription glasses or hearing aids can make him care.
not even the strongest antidepressants or mood stabilizers can make her see that he does.
Violation of country sovereignty
Causing huge damages and bloodshed
Innocent people including children are victims
Destroying nations integrity
Drone attacks are bona fide form of tourist’s activity
Headed by under the umbrella of state
Increasing lost of innocent people rate
Livid, then the jogging man pushing his child with cerebral palsy glided beside me, and I felt sick with petty spite.
I ran to the building for the nearest bathroom and vomited back every saccharine word I ever breathed into your mouth.
Excuse the blood, the ulcers you left are raw today.
I haven’t eaten joy or devoured love since while putting your blouse back on, I came up behind you and kissed the back of your neck and whispered that next to your eyes, that was my favorite part of your body.
I washed the spite and vomit out of my mouth with tap water and shame, they both tasted metallic against my tongue, like biting too hard and the jolt of tines on teeth.
I bit the fork and tasted regret and chipped enamel.
Is that what his tongue tastes like for you?
When you kiss his neck, does part of you still taste my skin?
The smell of the ocean that you only ever visited once, but every day for more than a year.
Do your fingers ever expect to tangle themselves in the seaweed of my curly hair?
I've been trying to remember your scent. You smelled of running through apple orchards, the sweat and the blossoms on the air whipping between trees and seaweed curls, the ocean.
I can only remember the taste of sea salt and chipped teeth.
But when you taste his lips, do you ever taste the salt of me?
Do you ever smell the ocean in the air, the ocean on my lips?
in the dim candle lit room
stood the faces of many
but these faces were not ordinary
for they were indeed empty
no emotion did these faces show
they were gone and dead inside
very scary looking indeed
sincere and dreary eyed
a slash of hurt across the face
of one particular man
showed this man was cunning
and he had a cunning plan
he let out a yell from deep within
making the others around him
possess crawling skin
he proceeded to yell
within the room
the other faces
they sensed their doom
their faces fell, drooped a lot
into an uspide down smile
and only until the yelling stopped
did they show emotion for a while
the man with hurt slashed across his face
carried this on for weeks
with a content curve about his lips
that brought colour to his cheeks
the cunning man had achieved his plan
of bringing emotion to the others
he was proud of himself, he loved to help
his sisters and his brothers
Budweiser cans lay on the floor like empty mortar rounds,
the smell of Jack Daniels as potent as battlefield blood.
Weekend wars where we fight ourselves for pleasure.
Waging conquest on the banal.
Losing limbs and liver for a life less ordinary.
The air in my apartment is stale like cigarette butts,
buried in mass graves in an ashtray over full.
Weekend warriors where we battle for a new fix.
Waging conquest on the week day.
Losing steady vision for a life less ordinary.
Do you find yourself wandering through the desert of life
Searching for an oasis of truth
A safe place to stop and rest for a while
To gather enough strength to carry you through
Do you find hope, in this middle of nowhere
Or do you let the ache eat you every step you take?
Can you smile, when even though you remember,
the wounds you created by your own,
on the beautiful surface of your skin?
Are you capable to hold the tears back,
from streaming down,
when all you feel is the heavy weight in your chest,
scaring your heart,
at every beat of it?
When off in the distance you see what appears to be
A mirage of your own making
You take out your scared heart before it falls apart
And head in that direction for safety
But alas it's just an illusion
A figment of imagination in your mind
What you thought of as paradise
Was the reality of the times
My heart isn't as cold,
My soul isn't as dark,
Now that I feel belonged,
to this paradise,
I only feel infinite
I was brought into this world for a purpose
To conquer my ambitions and my dreams
It all started oh so simple , but when I entered high school all of that did not matter
The were three types of groups in this hell hole
Nerds ,Stoners , and popular teens
Obviously I had to choose and I only hoped being a stoner could boost up my reputation
Instead of receiving education ,I was busy inhaling the holy plantation
Look where I ended up , my report card is an embarrassing piece of paper that ever came up my eyes
Shouldn't we all be studying?
dedicated to M M Jones from Montana,
where I guess big skies make people think
about big questions and young poets thrive.
the butterflies of child-awakening
to the certainty
that school and
shame and embarrassment
were only minutes away,
is as fresh as
the flowers my love
buys every Friday,
fifty plus year later.
I would awake,
climb into bed with my mother,
telling her I did not feel well,
stomach felt gray.
I could not tell her that
the mocking I received by
my richer classmates at the
multiple lines in the fabric
of my corduroy pants
where she let my pants down
made me cannon fodder
for what we call now
I could not tell her
of the heartbreak
when somehow the parents
of my supposed suburban friends
pick me up for the weekly swim,
leaving me to watch
the sunset fall as I sat
on the stoop of our old house,
tucked away in an out of the way,
the shame still wet.
I could not tell her
of how two bothers tortured me
as I sat in the back seat
of their station wagon,
on me like curses.
Their older brother died of cancer
when that was still unusual,
and the mother wrote
a beautiful book
about his life.
I still hate them, those two,
fifty years later and it gives me
unusually great pleasure to
announce it to the world.
So I studied.
Not my schoolbooks,
but lovely and junky literature.
Friday afternoons, three children,
me the baby brother,
(anonymous, for they nicknamed me
brother as if I was nothing but
checked off category)
to the library went.
Five, five was the max
they the austere librarians
and their coda of holy silence,
would let me withdraw.
(god I can see my library card still).
By Friday night,
I had finished one or two,
ruining my eyes in
the lousy lamp light
in the living room,
falling asleep on the couch.
this, reading addiction,
which afflicted the entire family,
I did well into my teens.
I have stopped reading
which amazes the very few
who know and care.
do let us re-pose,
let us repose,
Shouldn't we all be studying?
the answer of course is
yes and no.
my studying blue period
is long since ended.
now, my biographer,
will call this my red period.
for red are the memories that my remembrances
come back to me.
crystal is the clarity
of the indignities
I recall, though red,
is the anger
at the shame and
abuse I took.
now I can write what I have always held in my heart.
those two awful brothers,
who loved to torture me,
I was glad their
wonderful brother died.
so this is my red writing period,
when the studying of a kind,
has long since ended
but the smell,
the memory of
fresh textbooks still can
make me nauseous.
Yet, I still study life around me,
as I clean countertops,
walk deserted beach isles
in early September...
is the product of years
of studying the inside out
of me, and turning that study
fruitful into poetry.
why am I writing this at 2:00 am on a Sunday morning?
I did not pose the question.
but it posed me,
and the dialogue in my mind came
sugarcane fresh and tumbling out
and will be both
recorded and recoded
("in the truth will out eventually" file)
after a fashion.
these days I sometimes study
my older poems,
whose titles I recognize,
but whose content
I cannot recall.
so double digit delight
meet again old words,
wondrous and trite,
that make believe
that all my studying
somehow paid off after all.
There are parts of our stories that we wish were different
Things we wish we could erase
We get stuck in moments
Over-analyzing our every movement
Trying our hardest to make the memories perfect
Memories turn in to ghosts
That haunt our happiness
And kill our freedom
We try to live in the past
But we can't repeat it
So it never works
And it hurts
Then somehow inside the same story
There is good
There are memories that make us laugh and make us smile
Loving relationships and life changing conversations
Places that we hope to go
And people that we want to meet
Even things as simple as favorite books and songs and films
They are a daily reminder of why we're alive
And we've come to believe that all of it matters
That all of it is significant and
The opposite of small
We've come to believe that you deserve to be around people who make you feel whole
People who laugh and mourn and celebrate with you
People who remind you
You're not alone in this whole big thing called life.
You say, "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”
but I say surely something
must taste nicer than the burning acid
being forced back up your throat.
Why not hug people instead of
toilet bowls? At least they’ll hug back.
Except Mia is your only friend now.
And her cousin, Ana, of course.
And I understand that you never
wanted to die, but this is a thousand ton truck
hurtling towards the edge of a cliff and
Ana took the wheel a long time ago.
There is no strength in this: in you, in a
fear of calories. Even your bones creak
as your muscles sigh with exhaustion -
for this, is not a war you're winning.
This is a battle with only one contender
and I will not be the one to disarm you.
That's your job and it always has been. I know
you only wanted to be beautiful
like all those stars in the magazines
you saved under a file titled ‘thinspo’
but the only stars you ever saw were in
your eyes from the dizziness
and to tell you the truth, you are not pretty.
For there is nothing “pretty”
about the layer of fuzz your body grew
to protect itself from the big bad wolf
when really, the only growl was coming
from inside your stomach.
Or how your little sister is afraid to touch,
let alone hug you, in fear of snapping you in two.
For there is no glamour in having to
remove clumps of hair out of the plughole
at least six times whilst having a shower,
just to let the water run down.
Or that one time you "accidentally”
took too many laxatives. Messy.
There is nothing admirable about the way
you sat shivering on your bed
at night instead of kissing boys,
or dancing, or eating ice cream.
There is nothing to be marvelled at
This, is not a life to be lived.
God, this isn't even a life.
This is being a slave to your own body,
a walking zombie, a ghost stuck
between two sides.
You are not alive.
But it was all still worth it, right?
Slowly killing yourself from the inside out.
A small price to pay for perfection,
a bargain for a broken mirror;
for a half-written book
with 97 blank pages,
that only captures in black and white,
with frozen hands.
And most importantly, for a peace of mind
you never received.
I've been travelling too long, I've been trying so hard
Living my life almost two decades
20 years old little soul that sometimes don't know how to differentiate what's good & what's bad in his life
I'm just a sinner who realized that I need a savior to save me from all the wrongs that I've done
Waiting for the right platform in my life , when will it come? I will never know
In this creepy cold world it is hard to walk in a straight line
I am so thankful for the Islamic primary sources as my guideline
Using the Quran as my guidance and the Sunnah is what i'm trying so hard to follow
I can't deny there's too many obstacles in my way to the right path
But then I realized,obstacles in our path are meant to make us strong
Using all my strength to remain focused that i praying so hard to God
The Syaitan keeps whispering both in ears and sometimes my iman has gone so weak
I've been stumbling over my own feet, spacing out on thoughts , and have been lost for words
But there's something that makes me strong & I have mentally convinced myself
that "I am a Muslim"
Allah is always by my side, the right path won’t be too hard to seek
I just need to keep my eyes wide open and be prepared for anything that comes my way
Tears keep running down my face and I'm struggling too hard to express this
But I know He listens to me so well , I know He can see me clearly & He knows what's hiding inside me
So Allah as the one and only God, please hold me and guide me all the way to you
Please show me how to be kind and how it feels to be loved for the sake of You
Let me be one of your residents in Jannah
So that I can spend my afterlife with YOU forever and ever
gazing upon the empty words
breathes life as once she read
words on a page of nothingness
found love there in its stead
to know his soul as he doth hers
love never accepts defeat
though distance mars the loving hearts
for never the twain shall meet
Eyes meet eyes and pulses sync.
Breathing becomes unhurried -
as if your lungs were never beating
to begin with.
Transient ripples taste the skin of your arms.
Rushing across the hairs
that reach skyward.
and anxiety is non-existent.
Because the touch of their hands
renders distractions irrelevant.
The tone at the center of the universe’s song
You don’t need words.
Words were never necessary.
Because the string of silver
that tied your heart to there’s
vibrates with every burst of affection you felt
as eyes meet eyes and pulses sync.
Wash your pants, dry them too.
Silly noise in from the machine?
Only to find it tumbling.
Pluck it and back in your denim pocket.
An infinite abyss of fluctuation.
A cesspool of narcissistic hypocrisy.
You LOVED the way that pair of size 2's used to fit.
I guess happiness is a jeans and T kind of gal...
And so I remain in this suit, uncomfortable.
Don't I look sharp?
The world is full of bears and rabbits.
Migrating in caves and starting bad habbits.
If one should eat the others flesh,
would they take on another distress?
For when you crawl inside a stranger's skin
the world seems more or less in sin.
And though your heart may seem more pure
don't make the assumption,
"I'm here to cure."...
The beastial beings in the shade
can't understand why leaves can fade
and whsipering children in the sun
are puzzled by why shadows run.
Look to the west, look to the east,
there waits a grand and splendid feast.
Gaze to the north,
gaze to the south
and let the silence fill your mouth.
We all are children of the green
whose faces will remain unseen.
So try to see a different view
besides what settles just for you.
Dancing around in the rain,
The kids on the street chasing each other in their trench coats,
Puddle splashed by that bus stop,
Drenched from bottom to top,
I went to that one milkshake place,
To see how my childhood was once like,
So I took my old rusty bike,
Along the shoreline and past that corner shop,
I stood there for a moment and remembered as I said "this is where I once ran away from the cops"
Rubbing the back of my neck as I said "the place where most of my time was spent"
Where me and my buddies once went,
Engraved into the third table from the cash register that read:
but hearts never forget.
Looking at the raindrops on the window as I sit on a white leather seat,
Where my buddy Joey said "Dig in boys! EAT!!"
Chow down those pancakes as fast as a vacuum,
For breakfast, before going to school and into our classroom,
And rush back the days I miss and the childhood years that I now cherish,
Soon enough those days will be remembered when I will perish.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly found significant.
A vast stretch of abandonment and history - long forgotten and left to be consumed by Time himself.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly understood.
Decorated by Mother Nature with an asortment of trees and shrubs and an abundance of flowers it's only scar which betrayed it to the present was a solitary man-made structure, tattoed with the bold letters of "FALCON SECURITY" - surely an untold testimony to this place's past life.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly acknowledged.
Ocassionally it would become the temporary haven of hobbos and hermits alike. Living in mutual homelessness they sort comfort under the trees, in the confines of the hideous building or simply amongst the long, billowing grass of the place. They would build thingie-ma-jigs, what-ja-ma-call-its and thing-a-ma-bobs and sell them to the curt passerbys of their place.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly appreciated.
Surrounded by infastructure, and industry it stood out like a rose amongst the thorns and brought beauty and clarity back into the otherwise monotonous, morbid environment. It stood defiant and strong against the hungry, salivating greed of humanity - yet someday it was bound to succumb to our over-powering ambition for development.
Once I knew a place, a place that no longer exists.
In the blink of an eye that place was destroyed - uprooted and upheaveled.
Every tree, every shrub, every flower ripped out and now gone. No longer a haven but a grave yard where the dead lay scattered like fallen soldiers across the battlefield. Victims against the War of Industrialisation they fell prey to mans' heinous desires.
"Collateral damage" for a "brighter" future they say.
I say, who needs another vehicle retail outlet.
Once I knew a place, and I will never know that place again.
As I lay here alone and cold darkness is all I see.
I guess in a way this is how life can be.
Some people refer to happiness as sun. Bright and shinning, full of fun.
But this darkness proves them all wrong.
You can pretend to be happy all you want. But just like the sun it fades away, into the darkness,
there goes another day.
Some people cringe at the thought of everlasting life with out the sun.
Some people are so used to it they just go numb.
If you were here rite now with me, maybe you would understand more of the life you can't see.
In the darker side their truly is beauty, once you get past all of the agony.
It's really not as hard as it seems.
People say it may be dark, but just you wait and see.
the sun is closer than you think.
And that's why I'm still here rite now, waiting....
Just waiting to see...
We don't talk,
but I'm quietly watching you,
so when you make eye contact shyly
it's easy to know what we are doing.
You approach me,
sanitizing wipe, Band-Aid, and mic
(complete with wires)
and peel the plastic.
Swab my cheek gently,
and I smell the alcohol
but it's a pleasant
Put the mic over my ear,
position it against the side of my face,
tape the Band-Aid to my cheek,
fingers brushing my skin.
You send the wire down my dress,
pull up my skirt and reach up for the end,
soft fingers lightly skimming over my back.
Adjust the mic in its belt, and lower the fabric.
Tell me in your sweet voice:
I do, "oh, hair", you say, and I pull
my ponytail out of your way,
thinking of your soft short hair.
Then, "Look straight"
and as I do, and you tape the mic tape
against my neck, I'm thinking
Backstage I think to myself
that you haven't done anyone else's mics,
and this makes me feel good.
I know later I'll be watching for you
to be free, so I can feel your hands
near me, watch your eyes rimmed
with liner as they study the mic
hooked to my face.
Crouching slightly as you are up
on tip-toes, and we can communicate
silently once more.
he was made of melted candy and thorns .
his hair , a whirlwind of violence and loneliness , iron black in the darkness , like his obsidian heart . he picked the ones that you couldn’t say no to , because he enjoyed the infinite possibilities . the sun withered when he smiled . a rare occurrence , every half century he’d return and light up the way . he wove dreams into your skin like the blade you cherished in those dead hours , mouth wide open and accepting of the misery he fed you .
his hands were a slow blur of silk and daggers , claws shredding your soul while he whispered his I love yous . you convinced your petty esteem that there was truth in the messages he burned into your screaming flesh , cigarettes wheezing on the floor around you , a plume of smoke in your ruined face as you thanked him for each brand .
he crushes your pathetic wind-pipe because you begged him to , because deep down you know he’d do it regardless . he squashes your every hope because you’ve wasted your life thus far . you moan between his teeth , and he pets you like the broken puppy you are , slowly guiding you to his bounteous well . you sip and choke as he shoves you , takes your breath away , and beats you with a smile .
you relish your marks the next morning with a strangled laugh . there is that tiny speck of emptiness you expect every day , that makes you crawl back to him . he welcomes you with a kick in the ribs and a leather strap around your neck . you explode with joy .
you don’t care . nothing matters , but his adoring hand
I focus on the blurred lines
outside my window
The flower waves
"goodbye! We'll miss you!"
As I raise my hand
to wave back
And I realize
with some sadness
am the only one moving.
Me and my window,
and foggy to the touch.
I whisper to a long-gone flower
everyone thought of being the perfect one
to see, to make, to create, and to believe
these words were their stamp
to make themselves the unbreakable mannekins
raising the status is their goal
thinking that they should achieve what they need to achieve
looking that removing one's diginity is part of the process
to have a happy life
now the stars started sinking in
pressures of unbelievable lies are stated
following everything that they should do
in order to maintain the happiness that they should deserve
to copy, to fake, to kill, to tease
are now their words of wisdom
as they seek the mountain,
the mountain of bulimic fitness
wrong, wrong they were
thinking that the impurities within themselves should be burned
for once, the universe calls their attention
and they decided to go to the road to kill
their perfect dissonance
nothing seems to be the answer
they cannot see the truth
if we would be perfect, then we are
diminishing the balances of the existence of everything
and then I realized
that she was there, still standing
holding her heart
that was once pure and light
and now she bears the dark
as she has no use of this world
for she went to the light
and never came back
closing the covers was the only thing to do
as I remember holding the knob
telling her that it would be fine
because her imperfections were nothing but
happiness to me
she was not perfect in my illusion but perfect in my reality
as I touched the box, the musical box
the sunshines were singing
the perfect tune
that she once danced all through the night
that made me remember how happy she was
with just being herself
to me and to everyone
my friend requested me to make a poem that talks about "perfect dissonance" and the result was these two poems
What is loyalty?
Is loyalty when you are in a relationship, and you don't cheat?
Is loyalty and when you do your friend a favor when they need you most, and they are begging for you to help them?
That can't be loyalty.
That won't be loyalty.
No, Loyalty is something bigger.
Loyalty is when you are honest, and trusting, with your peers.
Loyalty is when you do the right thing for the right people
Instead of being selfish
Instead of being evil
Instead of being the kind of person no one would ever want to spend their life with.
Loyalty is when you stay true to your word.
It's when you don't tell a lie
It's when you develop one opinion on something
It's when you stick to your guns, and you don't go out being a liar.
It's when you claim that you are doing one thing, but realize you can do the other anyway.
It's when you don't act on that other way
It's when you instead, stay to what you last promised.
Loyalty is not being the one person who ruins an otherwise good night.
Loyalty is not being the one person who ruins an otherwise good life.
Loyalty is instead, simply, truth.
Truth to one person.
Truth to one person who deserves it.
Truth to all people, they all deserve it.
If you aren't willing to be loyal.
Don't call me.
but I'll be able to accept it after a few more shots,
a couple more hits,
and maybe a line,
but as I am in a semi sober state
it is hard to believe.
Hard to believe that you chose him over me,
hard to believe you swoon around him,
and don't bat an eyelash at me.
It's hard to believe he's my best friend
and I'm letting him do this.
I'm a realist, mildly an idealist.
My ideas create a mindset that allows me to express feelings
But I build up a wall, high as a skyscraper..I stand, as a realist I know if I jump, I'm bound to meet my maker. I don't think idealist are weak.
I just think they escape the honesty they seek.
You don't walk a straight line in order for you to finally reach your peak.
Obstacles come and go, water is a need if you want to grow, you can't have a lightbulb without an idea and expect it to magically glow.
I know every action I do and especially when I am wrong but I just want rewrite all my wrongs, they inspire all of my greatest songs.
Optimistic that I'll make it, I just need more effort than 50 percent
because you get what you put in, as a realist I know if you put in half, half back is all you will ever get.
People remember you mistakes, the heroics they just simply forget.
I can't stand when people think it's okay to live a life without any regrets.
Sure things happen for a reason and karma "may" have you enemies morally bleeding, but your ideology sounds misguiding and thought process misleading. Karma is an excuse to allow a higher calling contribute to your spiteful abuse, you don't want the crime on your soul so you allow the angels to fatally shoot. It's fine, before we die, we all commit a crime.
Women kill, men steal, just being in love should require you to do time.
Born a realist sinner...far from an idealist winner
Success doesn't come over night
The sweet life doesn't come until after you've made your dinner..and cleaned the plate, but we're never satisfied...nah, we going to probably eat again late.
Work hard for the dream, don't just rely in faith. A realist knows she may not show up, even when you scheduled a date.
It's all love to the victims, stuck in a fiction. If you hate this piece...your ignorance got you unable to listen.
Not my problem though. I'm speaking without any permission! I like that idea...oh Damn, wait...I think I jus become my own contradiction?
...forget it, I'm healing, my words and unpredictable wisdom, I am still dealing.
Insanity is a fear that is expressed towards you when others have confusion
A realist, an idealist..no one is right...our concepts to each other seem all an illusion.
500 names and 500 bodies
Each one born to a family
Each one the crypt of its own stories
500 names and 500 stories
Stories that won’t be told in the newspaper
Not even in a little box under the
Front page headline that tells you to be afraid
Be afraid of the streets at night
Be afraid of what could be waiting in your own backyard
Be afraid of people who are poorer than you
Be afraid of people who are a different color than you
Be afraid of people who practice different religions than you
Be afraid of the mother whose cries of anguish, cries of pain
Echo from the street outside
Because she buried her bullet-riddled son today
He doesn’t get his name in the paper
He wasn’t on the honor roll
And he’d gotten into some trouble
But he had the misfortune to be born on the South Side
To a woman who has to live with being called a welfare queen
A woman who worked two jobs just to feed him
who worked her fingers to the bone
to provide him a home
She’d rather feel the burden of providing for him
Than feel the agony of missing him
Because every day on the 20th of February
She’ll be going to his grave instead of his birthday party
And he’ll become another name on a list
One of 500 names that a politician
Can put on a chart and say
This. Must. Change.
And revel in the cheap applause he’s stolen
But will forget about once he’s been chosen
500 names and 500 dollar bills
Dollar bills you hide behind because money is the only God you know
But dollar bills can burn
Dollar bills are just green pieces of paper
Green like greed
Green like Lady Liberty
Green like the huddled masses Lady Liberty promised to protect
Green like the envious masses throwing their money away on Lucky Lotto
In the desperate hope that they might someday compete with you!
And be welcomed into your gated communities
With open arms
And open palms
And open hearts
But you don’t know anything about that because you are heartless
If poverty creates violence,
then wealth creates intolerance
500 deaths is a tragedy
But for you, it’s just something to read
At your breakfast table in your house in the suburbs
Comforted by the headlines that try to make you afraid
My mother always called me the devil child
Because I was loud, destructive and wild
I found out years later I was born with ADHD
No one wanted ever to spend any time with me
Parents didn’t know of ADHD or why I was different
They didn’t understand and they were very intolerant
Parents told older sister I was bad and she didn’t have to be around or play with me
So much of the time alone was really no fun, however for some help I did make a plea
I heard my mother double dog dare my father to hit me
Mother would refer to me as a turd in front of the family
All my cousins were smart, while I was failing all my classes in school
Got in to many fights with bullies and teachers who were always cruel
My family would all make fun of me, call names bully and teased
I was the loser that anyone could do or say what they pleased
None of my cousins was I ever allowed with to play
Was always much of the time alone every and all day
I lived in a strange way my dad was very to the T religious
And my mother was always drunk and of course blameless
She’d drink when home from work, on the weekends or holidays
And could always hide it from all her friends and the relatives
No one believed me when I told them that she had been drinking
They acted like I was crazy by then I knew what they were thinking
My mother took me out on Friday nights to eat and buy whatever I wanted, after work
Her last stop was always the liquor store for drink and smoke, I was left in car like a jerk
Bought games that took two or more to play, but she nor did dad never have any intension
Of spending time with me, I was in there way. I was a bad child that needed intervention
Wasn’t the perfect child I admit; I ran off when I was 16 did things I regret parents put me
Away, they came for counseling I complained about moms drinking, and she felt angry
She said her drinking wasn’t my problem, she’d be back to see me when I could face the truth
Never could mother admit her or dad doing wrong, everything was because I was a youth
Came home from school one day mom was passed out on the living room floor dead drunk
Called ambulance for her Dr blamed me and said no visit, and he called me a worthless punk
My dad would come home and find she was throwing up while passed out always in her bed
I’d watch him take bowls put them near her mouth to catch it, was something I would dread
He’d walk to the bathroom, empty the bowl and go back to get the next one to do the very same
And replace the unfilled one repeat the process. I was told by her doctor that I was the blame
Sometimes mom would run down the hall to the toilet bowl throw up then my heart would race
Because I always knew mom would do this and then she’d come to room to scare rant and pace
Since I was a bad spoiled child who had parents with money, nice house cars and good jobs
And I was not willing to help out or be responsible, was told I made the family look like slobs
My sister let her boyfriend talk her into letting him take me to dentist, instead he molested me
No one believed me because in the past I had lied about things, and the truth no one would see
I was different all the cousins, my aunts and uncle could blame me when things went missing
Or went wrong I was then and still am now the perfect scapegoat yes about it I’m still babbling
My father ran out the back door, when he heard me wake up and come out of my room
So he didn't have to bother with me, and I wanted to spend time with him he’d assume
Somehow I managed to graduate from high school and I then would move
To a different city I felt I might have better luck and my life would improve
Married two very bad guys both who daily beat, threatened me and verbally abused
Divorced them both had one child and how I’d raise this child alone I was confused
Tried to work and go to school never was competent enough to follow through
Each time I would start either I did not have the ability of completing anything new
Am not proud of this but I had 30 jobs that I lost in 10 years and even tried going to college
Unable to remember how and when to do things, my head from years of abuse was in a fog
Filed for SSI and Social Security, got on section 8, food stamps WIC and other government aid
I needed a home for myself and my daughter so I had to depend on things like this to get paid
My daughter grew up, became ill with a repeating debilitating disease
I dedicated myself to getting her well, and nothing about it was a breeze
Had to take her in pain for Doctor visits many times she’d cry and wished she were dead
This broke my heart with no family help, just her and I to face things in the years ahead
Unable to attend school for years, the Doctor signed permission to stay home
School system assigned a teacher who was mean nothing about her was tome
School Social workers interfered
And my name they smeared
She finally one day went into remission
And now the nephrotic kidney condition
Seems for now to have forever gone for good away
For years it’s been don’t want others to downplay
For a while I homeschooled her and the first semester back in the public school
She was on the honor roll things seemed to be looking up and I felt exception to the rule
Then one day she lost interest in classes, homework and attending
And the principal of the high school was calling and threatening
Pulled her out of school and placed her in to get her GED
Soon she graduated quite quickly within month of three
A year before she was supposed to graduate
I knew by then that I was doing things right
Enrolled me and her in community college we made the Dean’s list and no student loan debt
Last May she and I graduated have a new life now I don’t feel things in my life are a threat
But alone I’ve raised a good child, self-published a book and kept things together
I’ve published some poetry and stories in magazines that will be on web pages forever
Even though my parents have helped me out once in a while financially
I feel lack of respect since they helped family who treated me crummy
I’m still feeling and have most of the hopeless thoughts when I was young
But I still try to steer my daughter to be different from me and hold my tongue
Those cousins with the high degree
Don’t seem to have too much on me
Both lost their jobs within a year out of college from being snobs and dishonest
But the parents just think that it was because others were being so glibbest
Both stuck alone in life working in their old age
That just mostly pays a low minimum wage
Sister divorced husband for molesting her children still won't speak told her kids I was bad
She lives in my town and over 20 years she’s never visited so by her I've been for life had
Most of all I think it's because my parents never would face reality or admit
To any wrong doing of years of abuse and neglect, something I couldn't forget
Why am I talking about this after all these years still?
Because I think that it may just possibly help me to heal
All Rights Reserved
What happened to the lines that I drew?
Black and sacred as the darkness in an ugly room
My special little hell mapped out neatly so I knew
Now tell me what on earth I should do
The sky is a sickeningly bright shade of blue
A backdrop for all the things that I slew, like
The limbless body hanging limp at the window
Now tell me what on earth I should do.
I dreamt a new line, wished the old one adieu
On my bed a mess of carcass is strewn
Blood gushes from the heart and white sheets are imbued
Now tell me what on earth I should do
Should I wear the red sheets in homage to you?
Your pit and your lips and the kiss misconstrued
I could fashion a pall and lie out of your view
Just tell me what on earth I should do.
Should I follow the line till it leads me to you?
Standing at its end so quiet and aloof
Within the stone walls that I cannot break through
Just tell me what on earth I should do
I will try, yes I must, for it may have been true
What I saw in my sleep and have since etched out too
The monster called hope who I fed till she grew
Now tell me what on earth I should do.
The embrace felt as warm as I wanted it to
But marks were left on my back, fat and black
You’ve been drawing your own lines, fresh and new.
Please tell me what on earth I should do.
I have become so lost in the loneliness,
so wrapped up in the relevant routines of solitude,
that I would give anything to go back
to what was familiar
even if that includes being by your side once more.
Maybe next week I'll feel different,
but it doesn't matter.
This sense of wanting to find love will repeat itself
over and over and over.
When I was your man,
things actually made sense.
I noticed the trees changing the colors of their leaves,
and how the coffee today tasted differently than yesterday,
only because you did.
Now I never take pride in noticing the little things
because I have no one to share them with.
I have no one to lay out on the grass with in silence
no one to hold my arm in theirs on a long lonely drive.
Now empty pages and empty bottles clutter around my bed
I'm hoping one of them will keep me from waking up someday.
Because I don't want to brace myself for the impact of a life lived in solitude.
I don't want to miss your warm hands or the light breeze of your breath
or my fingers slowly tracing through your hair.
I don't want to live a life without knowing
what it feels like to lay next to someone for an entire night
more closely and more intimately than I've ever known.
I don't want to miss being able to carry you up the stairs
when you're too tired to do so on your own.
At least I knew some of that with you.
But now you're gone
and my heart sinks lower into my chest.
I fear that one day it will disappear completely.
Something's been missing in me since you left
and I fear that I will never get it back.
The holidays are upon us
Time for family and fun
Some families put the fun in dysfunctional
But if yours is not one
Take comfort in this jewel
If your family put the FU in dysfunctional
You're no different from Gods that rule
Chronos, Zeus, and Aries
Make you brother, uncle, and mother
Look like happy fairies
Dysfunctional also spells love
If you drop the dysfunctiona
And add the OVE
It snowed all day today
First snow of the season
From the time I woke up to the moment I went to bed
The snow was so powdery
All there was, was glitter in the air
You see, I still want to tell you about my day
Because there are people that come in our lives
And they mean so much it doesn't make any sense
But they do.
I find myself still writing for you
Even though you don't want me to
But after a hundred poems it's hard to stop
My word's seem to come easy when I'm hurting
Often though, angry words are not meant
And actions are unfairly judged just through words
I'm not trying to get back what we had
But no one should feel not good enough.
We may accept the love we think we deserve
But often we deserve far more than we think.
And hush, you did. You do.
I keep checking in on you to make sure you're okay
And it kills me to know that you're not
What you consider flaws are simply the
Little quirks I saw back on your porch that made me smile
I hope you live; that you are more than just alive
Because I know you are a good person
Who deserves all the happiness and love in the world
And I would have gladly spent
The rest of my life proving it to you
Someone can't go from being the center of your world
Straight to nothing over night
I too, still think about you always ...
And it's only been a week...
Drink a toast to the dreams that got lost.
Sat in a world of the single minded.
The location of shattered dreams lost.
No longer whispering.
Ghosts of long gone dreams.
They scream as banshees of doom.
Predicting solitary misery.
Quite happy really,
Hell maybe, I am,
I am not.
The music plays and I drown in it.
Swallowing it, hook line and sinker.
This funny woman,
A deep thinker.
An amusing muser.
She lives on the planet of miserable cow.
The couple next door.
Sharing a lunch,
One between two.
In oblivious dreams of true romance.
New romantics perhaps.
As lucky sods and demi-gods,
They sat and munched their lunch.
Listens to the music, listless.
In a place where no-one can dance.
Tapping my foot in time.
Yes, my friend.
I said in time
And the music strokes the air.
The music gets stuck in my auburn hair.
Soul to soul,
She is bare,
My coffee went cold.
Should I maybe be so bold.
To stay and listen to more.
And the music became more.
So much more.
My inspiration on this glorious day.
Passion in full view.
C'est la vie.
(And Alaric ,my friend).
May the devil enjoy my play on words,
Such injustice be kindly greeted.
Would prefer to tickle angels, with my words instead.
Sooner meet the Lord of Love,
When I end up dead!
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
I'm scared to get close to you,
I don't know what to do.
I've been played so many times,
So much hurt, so many lies.
You're one of a kind you really are,
I think about you when you're near, and when you're far.
I don't want you to replace me,
But lately that thought is all I see.
Flirting with a different girl that isn't me,
The only girl is what I want to be.
I'm scared that you'll never be mine,
And all of these feelings I must confine.
I have so much negativity in my mind,
Making me distant and unkind.
Someday I want this to be more than just a fling,
But I don't even know if you'd ever want such a thing.
I don't want to hold onto something that'll never be there,
Because I like you too much, it's just not fair.
I hope that you like me as much as I like you,
Because if you didn't, I don't know what I'd do.
I really hope you don't find a different girl better than me,
Because I'm trying to be the best girl I can be.
I hope when you look into my eyes,
You can see past the disguise..
I hope you can see the feelings I have for you,
Because even if I can't show it, my eyes do.
I hope you never leave, I'm too happy with you,
Even if this negativity is sending me askew.
Maybe, its time I tell you,
maybe its time to speak up.
I'm no longer in a stage where,
your voice pops up in my head,
and makes me wonder where you are.
what you're doing.
Your name no longer sends me into
fits of remorse, nor anger.
The harshness of what you now think of me,
no longer stops me in my tracks.
I don't ask myself what you would think,
because I know you don't care,
and also, I don't need you to.
I'm my own person and you wanted to change that.
You wanted to change me.
Recreate me to fit the image,
of what you always dreamed.
No longer do I ponder upon decisions,
based on how your feelings would apply.
No. I'm no longer a slave to your feelings.
Now, I'm simply me.
I do what I want, how I want, and when I want it,
and theres no one to stop me.
I indulge in nicotine, and don't get the third degree for it.
I'm accepted as I am and I like it.
I'm no longer yours to control, and I'm in love with it.