Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Aug 2012 Matalie Niller
M Lundy
i'm at the age where
i think everything i do is so **** creative
and the things i think and say are so insightful.
but they are.
mostly.
on occasion.

sometimes.
Copyright 2012 M.E. Lundy
 Aug 2012 Matalie Niller
Misnomer
open seed;
her busted fetus of death's frail womb
and moisture drops soil's dehydrated tongue,
a quiet resignation, understanding,

is some triumph on the other side
where the picket fence, traitor,
glances in whatever direction he
hears noise.

&

we exchange our horoscopes
with our eyebrows,
and the mini universes beneath them,
circular and budding
as medicines and poisons.

&&

you are not shimmied away
by the sand's magnetic force
nor stand with planted soles
on stone foundation.

you are lured
by wind's woe of distance.
step up.
cheat.
throw up.
repeat.
I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.
You looked at me

With this soft smile,

These eyes

That seemed to grasp me.

And it hurts.

I couldn’t see the reflection

Or the reality

Of what you seem to perceive

All I could see was a rerun

Of their conceptions of me

Of every rough grab at my body

Of every cold tongue that slides between my lips

Of every *******

That I asked for

But felt solely like a violation…

I pull this smile across my face and look at you

I know you

This you

Every you

And it hurts.

I can’t see this girl

Or woman

You see

Who looks so beautiful

And is so interesting that

You are intoxicated.

I can only see the fear.

My fear of being touched

By someone I care for

Only being able to pray it is for real

Because betrayal by you would push

Too deep

Because they have gone

Too deep

And I can only feel their breath

And sloppy kisses

And hard genitals

Pressed against me

Until the meaning is gone

All it has become is a warm body part

That wants to be in me

*** on me

Walk out the door and leave me.

I look at you

And you look at me

I speak choked

Chuckle covered words

And you just smile

Why are you smiling…

And you kiss my forehead

This same forehead

That has been pressed against the bed

While I am taken from behind

Back arched in burden

Head down by a hand

Whose hand it doesn’t matter

They are all the same

Just coarse fingertips

Fingerprints that I try to wash off in the shower

But all I get is another layer of my skin

Hoping

That maybe I am not bruised underneath

But I know I am.

Your arm is around me

This protecting bar

That holds me close

To a warm body that doesn’t merely want to **** me.

I look at your chest

It rises and falls

Fabric pulling

So real

And I place my hand against your chest

And I feel your heart

And I see your smile

And it hurts

To feel so safe.
Eating food is as injecting morphine
I no longer feel any pain

Bread absorbs my lifes sorrows
While I crave chocolate like I crave your touch

A joint and Jose'
The drown out your memory

Sweet delicious ****
Why must you make me so hungry?
Impregnate your old crock squirtin'
Papier—mâché blackball on the *****
Oglin' for upshot
And whatever frigs our orifice
Yeah Ducky **** **** it bud
Milk the meatiness in a snog stranglehold
****** all of your bazookas at once
And unclench into ventilator

I like dung and tinsel
Shandy ****** fuss
Breedin' with the puke
And the Weltanschauung that I'm in statu pupillari
Yeah Ducky **** **** it bud
Milk the meatiness in a snog stranglehold
****** all of your bazookas at once
And unclench into ventilator

Like a punctilious Zeitgeist's nincompoop
We were born, born to be unstatesmanlike
We can spirt so penetrating
I never wanna croak

Born to be unstatesmanlike
Born to be unstatesmanlike
Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2009
 Jun 2012 Matalie Niller
Wanderer
Tight, wet, heat
Sweetly encompassing cold blown glass
No *** shops on this end of town
Impatient
Head shop will have to do
Sensual, low clouds of Nag Champa swirling
I looked at many until I found the right one
Just knew
My deepest...depths clenching with need
It may not be the best thing
But it gets the job done
******* myself doesn't take nearly as long as I would like
So I touch softly, dragging out the insufferable torment
To crescendo into a blazing glory
A Phoenix on third degree fire
Pulsing
To the staccato beat of my lonely heart
I would like to believe
we are all connected, a
mobile massive
pile of flesh mixed
in some bone juice
& ash, contributing
as something larger
then self, living with
each other, as one another,
firing pistons of thought
engines cooling by our
own single breath into
infinity of some end
never having to realize
what's right with wrong
just living as this
one.

But I remember I
operate in this separate
body walking on two
feet swimming through
turbulent sea's of me's
myself and greed,
this lust of more
powered by this ever-
going combustion of
competition one upping
to succeed with money
running through veins
clogged in violence,
forgetting the you
within all this
misery, we swallow
to be our anti-
depressants because
we sweat **** to
feed children we
teach to fight is
to attain, something,
search for something
I remember how I
search, how I search
how I seek, fueled
by this insatiable
hunger for this some-
thing more I can't
seem to find with this
need to feel complete,
this urge to fill this
"void gnawing at my
left lung" telling me,
reminding me I am
separate & will always
be, until I noticed
breath.

Invisible, heavy on
my weighed down
shoulders, colored
clear like wind, I
saw the element we
all breath in fire
that pulsates
as though I were
turned on, I was
turned on
to this liquid fire
rushing into the void
'nom nomming
on my left lung', as
I began to understand
the magnetic connection
of my beating lifeline,
reminding me what
was always known
was always believed,
somewhere in marrow
next to white blood
cells & hope, that
cliche one word
love

that connects us
to god to the
whatever's & what if's
to the me to the
you, with dust
in my right eye
the gap between your
tooth where eternal
wisdom is stored
because non judge-
ment wiggles through
toes like mud oozing
in the cracks of clenched
fists, that I am you
that I am, that it
is & will be & has
& continues on & on
& on & on

before

einstein or dinosaurs
there was an atom, made
of tiny parts composed
of smaller pieces held
together by space, found
bounding stars as we
squint attempting our
attempts to stare at
the sun because what
we forgot is the
I am & the I can,
the we are change
so we choose which
way our lips point
which way our sight
see's, by releasing the
old never were me's
& embracing this
new philosophy who
watched grains become
planets & god's born
into children who
work together as
one to become one

with words like
love, compassion &
kindness, with words
like love, compassion
& kindness with words
like love, compassion
& kindness with words
like thoughts becoming
our realities, no matter
what we believe or
think or thought, that
we hold the power of
god, the fist of judge-
ment we release to
grab on to words
like love, compassion
& kindness because
today I choose to
love, to be compassionate,
to spread kindness
with action of this
space that holds together
our veins, which were
only taught to pump
money, to encourage
greed & this lust of
violence where we
fight wars on oil
wars on drugs
wars on poverty
on hunger on
depression, ADHD
bipolarism economy,
we fight wars for
Peace.

We **** in
the name of justice
the name of god
of love

The stars
shine bright the non-
physical of hope
for something more, that
something more we're
searching for, look up
to realize what we are
taught, were taught
may not all be right,
that maybe my ribcage
wants to explode with
empathy for my fellow
man & follow him to
this promised land where
we can grow in the sorrows
of our joys because "even
the clouds weep in cele-
bration" 'when the answer
to everything right is
me',
is you,
is us,
if we choose

if

we choose, maybe there was
no void, maybe it was all a
story created by our minds

the pulse in my wrist controls
my world, now I ask you
does yours?
rough and tough not edited just a rumble jumble of thought.
some of my words are plagiarized
the gnawing on my left lung bit (KPB)
and nom (OR)
and clouds weep in celebration (I Am).
credit goes where credit is due.
It's been over a month has it?

Tear it apart or love it, whatever feels best.
(written a week before post date)
Next page