I cut off two fingers from the hand of the poet who can’t stop from writing the hymns of her.
I put them in my ears so I could escape the redundant song
About the girl with the face that inspired the seas and it’s depths
And the sun
And the moon
And the stars
And a spirit that defeated them all
I would’ve used two of my own, but I need all 10 to compose this sacrilegious psalm
Because I value Beauty not
Although I guess it’s only me
They’ll adorn your scars as long as they don’t bleed
and applaud your broken bones as long as they aren’t visible through busted seams
And they live to hear her story
No matter how old or recent
But If you look like the hell you’ve gone through they’d rather you just
Didn’t.
Or perhaps you prefer that narrative
of hate
And slaughter
And lust
But no matter how many time it’s spun
I still can’t seem to trust
The girl with the mind that dared to lock eyes with the void and it’s breadth
And time
And space
And death
And a soul that embraced them all
She’s prayed for the devil one too many times and that’s probably why he won’t leave her alone
Cause she’ll tell you her name is fearless
And that she’s mystical and cold
But really she’s Banality
And her lionhearted stories
Old
I suppose it’s not her fault
Nor is it Beauty’s either
That their tales are all derivative
And clichéd, their Author’s leisure
They’re shrines to archetypal aspiration
Overwatered brain garden
Concept vegetation
So I pulled up Beauty’s roots
And those of Banality too
And reveled in their surprise as a **** like me ripped them from the view.
And I plant them here with me
amongst the blooming Apostasies
And how willingly they drink
My Eucharist of impiety
And now I sit with open veins
And written in my blood this
Antiphon remains
But since we’re all just echoes in the void
I’ll know you’re lying if you say
you didn’t lick your fingers anyway
when turning the pages of this introit
Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 4:58 PM UTC
So break my heart in a million ways.
In the end,
It’s still held together by the smile on your face.
Cause I’ll sew back the pieces every time
You say my name
Or cross my mind
And tell myself it’s as good as new.
Or maybe even better than it was before
You.
Because you will never **** up enough
And I will never let go enough
To give up
The memories.
May 4, 2019
May 4, 2019 at 8:14 PM UTC
You were always shocked
when I would ask questions
that to you were seemingly
unnecessary,
trivial,
purposeless,
by your harsh definition.
Like you favourite colour.
Orange, you said.
When I wanted to know if your preference
leaned more towards sunsets
or fire
or tamer things,
you told me to stop asking so many questions.
It was orange, that was all.
When you bought flowers
I was surprised to see that they were pink.
It might not have mattered, but it got me thinking
about how much you don’t care to know.
Little things speak volumes,
but you disregard them.
Because it is easier to fall in love
on a superficial level,
but I crave depth.
So here I am in small pieces:
I take my coffee black.
I like to do crosswords in the paper like an old person,
and I can’t finish most of them.
I have terrible vision but refuse to wear glasses.
In quiet moments, I talk with myself like an old friend
and it is a strange illusion.
I collect business cards,
stones,
feathers,
teapots,
and strangers.
I like fridge magnets
and no sound can ****** me
quite like a good song can.
I cry when I'm angry.
I write bad poetry.
I love to laugh.
I’m a terrible swimmer.
I hate the colour pink.
You should have known that much.
At the very least, you should have wanted to.
When it comes to love my dear,
you have a lot to learn.
-Emma Cooper
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 10:59 AM UTC
My body is a vase,
with fantasies flowering out the top of my head
in bright and beautiful colours.
I want to touch them, to feel them in my hands,
but they die before I can grab them.
They wither before I can rip them from my skull and into reality,
and I am left with dead petals and thorns
that cut into the weathered skin of my palms.
You were a flower
in the garden up in my brain,
and I didn’t reach for your stem
for fear of losing even the pleasant idea of having you.
I gave you water and sunlight
and you grew until my head started to ache
under the weight
of unrequited love.
-Emma Cooper
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 10:58 AM UTC
Moon lights up the night with that Cheshire smile
In the
Black
Blue
Bruised sky
Stars shine in
Paralyzed combustion
And I get the notion
To never move again
How could the day compare
To a beauty so rare?
The sun will always rise in time
But each night is one of a kind
And here I am amongst the trees
Hear their praises in the breeze
As they reach up to Heaven
Longing to be lifted
While we both stand rooted
In Hell
The lights blurr together with every tear that fills my eyes
Knowing one day I'll fly forever
When God paints my star in the sky
I feel the pleasent creep of
Possibility
Sort of like a
Euphoric serenity
And I can feel it in my veins
A breathtaking surge
You can't deny
But won't be sure
If time is a pawn,
Cruel in its waste,
You and I are as hollow as
The threat of
Check mate.
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 8:39 PM UTC
I can feel my halo
Dimming
I can feel my tolerance
Slimming
I can feel my sanity rot in this
Forever stagnant state I'm
Sitting
I can feel the madness
Ripping
Holes of confusion in my
Heart
I can feel the courage crawl to
Fool me alone in the
Dark
But where the
**** am I?
Search for shadows in the light
So easily could I just hate
But I suppress what none dare take
Let the tears soften the break
Coping illudes as release
I pray for the real fall
I pray to end it all
They say to get it off my chest
Let my burdens find some rest
But I take comfort in the hope
One day my cares will *******
Choke
I could feel you spitting every
Insolent complaint
Hammering like nails in my
Tolerance
I swallow hard
Push down impulsiveness
Caution can be a burden
Praised as wisdom's yoke
Yet, so can capriciousness
So I sit back and choke
So where the
**** am I?
Anxiety is too **** high
So easily could I just break
But an act of risk
The fence won't take
Just sit there and
Equivocate
Coping illudes as release
I pray for the real fall
I pray to end it all
They say to get it off my chest
Let my burdens find some rest
But I take comfort in the hope
One day my cares will *******
Choke
Sitting pretty on the fence
Next to indecisiveness
And he tells me
"Here, there is no right or wrong. In the grey is where you belong."
So I look to either side and
They're all living their lives
Doing what they feel is right until they die
And here I am alone
Wasting away as I
Erode
And I realize I'll never
live at all.
So who the
**** am I?
Risk is the breath of life
So easily could I just wait
Second guess and hesitate
But there's no freedom in a place
Where coping illudes as release
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 2:06 AM UTC
It's all been said and done
If we aren't dying we're numb
We should put down our guns
Cause all we need is love
Ignorance is queen
The world is cold and mean
And when I'm dead and gone
You won't remember me
Equality is all we yearn
Conformity is all we've learned
Convince ourselves that we still care
Sing the same old song
The tune that gives us hope
Reminds us that we're ******
Anchor in the water
Feet tied in the rope
You're a good one of you strive
And even better if you die
We have faith you'll break the surface
Just know that we're proud
Humanity is worth it
We all know you'll drown
Remember you in honor
Because you soldiered on
Even though you're gone
It's all been said and done
History
a struck match
The future
A broken record
In between
We still believe
It just keeps getting better
Honesty
A ghost no one seems to see
Denying all the signs
Refusing to believe
It's all been said before
Recycled metaphors
Intrigue you all with rhyme
Sing the same old song
That whisper in the wind
Instilling you with purpose it's bestowed time and again
Inside you lies the power to make that final change
Slit there throats
Or when there hearts
I guess it's all the same
Remember you were chosen
We have faith you'll stand your ground
So beautifully heroic when the same wind knocks you
Down
Remember me,
Or don't.
I'll exist again.
Honesty's ghost
A message in the wind
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 1:45 AM UTC
In my mind I've lived and died
Seen shores swallowed by the tides
Waiting for you
All along I knew you'd come
Underneath familiar sun
You were there
Somewhere
Maybe you never stopped to wonder
If the stars that fill the sky your under
Shine on me too
Maybe you never stopped to think if the same winds that kissed your cheek
Kiss mine too
And
Maybe you weren't waiting for me
But I've been waiting for you
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 1:33 AM UTC
Restless tonight
Strange
The things exposed in absence of light
My demons snarl
Yet
So do I
A morbid pleasure
I can't seem to hide
To be so close
To what I fear most
And still possess the urge to smile
And when day breaks the seams of night
And allows the sun to bleed my eyes
A glass blown glaze affects my sight
A candy coax
A paperweight
Upon the desk
Of time and fate
But when night falls
As it always does
Reality crawls
To oxidize my rust.
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 12:31 AM UTC
Tomorrow is the day
I have imagined
For nearly
Two decades.
I am almost two decades old.
I never really pictured myself
In the ruffled, black
Window drape
And
Cardboard diamond.
Standing with "all my friends"
While everyone I love washes
Me to my diploma with tears of
Pride and joy.
I pictured the end.
Naive.
Of course.
But at six years old
Everyone made high school
Out to be
Life
And then life goes on
Hiatus
While we work our dream jobs
Raise kids and
Die.
Ironic.
It is always those preachers of
" Practicality"
Who make that dream
A goal.
Youth is idolized and coveted.
But like the
North Star
It was
Ignorance
Who led me through the darkness
Of my adolescence.
Not beauty or
Vitality.
Blind Faith and
Forced hope
In all the
Inevitable failures
That would seemingly lead me
Through a life time of
Social experiments.
Or as society prefers,
"friendships."
Ironic.
As it was I was being tested
More than I was testing.
Tomorrow
I will be graduating with
176
Cardboard diamonds
And of most of them
I only know
Their names.
Some led me to believe that they could sparkle
But in the end
Couldn't stomach the
Entirety of a mine.
So tomorrow we will be handed
Paper telescopes
Through which it is
Advised
To look towards our
Futures.
Cardboard diamonds will not look.
They will wipe their brows.
Flatten and restrict
Their futures to a
Five dollar plastic
Frame
And hang it on a wall as
Eggshell or beige
As the next 40 years of their
Hiatus.
Some led me to believe that they were pearls.
But in the end
Just couldn't bare the patience of
Becoming.
I am no cardboard diamond.
But I am not quite a pearl.
The day after tomorrow
I will be the same
Grain of sand
That I have been
For the past
18 years.
And for this,
I am truly
Grateful.
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 12:05 AM UTC