a-j-ward - Hello Poetry

From the musty antique shelf, Shining its fake Hollywood smile, It longed for the glamorous kiss of the spot light. It ached to be touched - Just a caress along the face - Desperate to be held. I stepped closer towards it, And in a ****** of light, Bright milky tears emerged, Trickling across its hollow cheeks. The shadow cast behind its body, Mirrored dark thoughts that swirled within. The porcelain shell was burdened, With hundreds of shattered memories Washed with rich tea scents, That bore sharply into its core. It longed for its companion, That fit so perfectly in its heart. But it failed to sell me its heart-felt story. My attention drifted. Its heart sank. A fate left to a coating in dust.

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Mar 20, 2012

Mar 20, 2012 at 9:57 PM UTC

The Saucer

From the musty antique shelf, Shining its fake Hollywood smile, It longed for the glamorous kiss of the spot light. It ached to be touched - Just a caress along the face - Desperate to be held. I stepped closer towards it, And in a ****** of light, Bright milky tears emerged, Trickling across its hollow cheeks. The shadow cast behind its body, Mirrored dark thoughts that swirled within. The porcelain shell was burdened, With hundreds of shattered memories Washed with rich tea scents, That bore sharply into its core. It longed for its companion, That fit so perfectly in its heart. But it failed to sell me its heart-felt story. My attention drifted. Its heart sank. A fate left to a coating in dust.

22

Your hands are mirrors. Hide your eyes behind them. Welcomed with open arms to the world of vanity, an arrogant grin peels open from your face. Your background Ignored: a blurred oil painting, timed anti-clockwise. There's a blot on the canvas - care to repair? The painting develops into a framed photo. Love caught in a blinding flash. The ink blot re-emerges, the photo dribbles black tears. Abusing Respect, Your eyes undress wondrous possibilities, Running away from a portrait, streaming thick droplets chase you. Desperate to feel whole again? You selfish little boy. Memories scare you you turn to your mirror for security. As the clock hand turns faster, your body will jolt at the sound of ringing realisation. You never realise what you have until you lose it.

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Jan 7, 2011

Jan 7, 2011 at 8:56 AM UTC

E.S

Your hands are mirrors. Hide your eyes behind them. Welcomed with open arms to the world of vanity, an arrogant grin peels open from your face. Your background Ignored: a blurred oil painting, timed anti-clockwise. There's a blot on the canvas - care to repair? The painting develops into a framed photo. Love caught in a blinding flash. The ink blot re-emerges, the photo dribbles black tears. Abusing Respect, Your eyes undress wondrous possibilities, Running away from a portrait, streaming thick droplets chase you. Desperate to feel whole again? You selfish little boy. Memories scare you you turn to your mirror for security. As the clock hand turns faster, your body will jolt at the sound of ringing realisation. You never realise what you have until you lose it.

22

Rolling around Inside my head Twisting and Turning Etching a Path in my mind Ideas dragging their feet. They leave bedraggled footprints which I can't rub away. A smile drawn backwards. My eyes bleed droplets, Forced upon a sour image. A smile wrenched open. My head rolls. My eyes blister.

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Jan 4, 2011

Jan 4, 2011 at 2:04 AM UTC

Idea.

Rolling around Inside my head Twisting and Turning Etching a Path in my mind Ideas dragging their feet. They leave bedraggled footprints which I can't rub away. A smile drawn backwards. My eyes bleed droplets, Forced upon a sour image. A smile wrenched open. My head rolls. My eyes blister.

13

I feel my senses sway with the soul of the song, A beat aligned with my heart, An instrumental playing for my attention, its strength awakes me with a start. A lyric in sync with a fragile mind, Soft songs protected by a gentle smile or vicious words dripping in venom, provoking a flaming fury so heavy and vile. Music is my transporter enriching me with a memory it can be my boat, my tardis, my plane I can fly with the rhythm, looking down at a moment Nostalgia guiding me, standing proud and in vain.

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Dec 8, 2010

Dec 8, 2010 at 12:26 PM UTC

Scratch The Record

I feel my senses sway with the soul of the song, A beat aligned with my heart, An instrumental playing for my attention, its strength awakes me with a start. A lyric in sync with a fragile mind, Soft songs protected by a gentle smile or vicious words dripping in venom, provoking a flaming fury so heavy and vile. Music is my transporter enriching me with a memory it can be my boat, my tardis, my plane I can fly with the rhythm, looking down at a moment Nostalgia guiding me, standing proud and in vain.

12

I enjoy the feel of your skin , upon my skin So creamy and silky, like warm tea. I drink you in, the heat gently warms me to the core I bathe in your glow, which gently heats me to the core, you caress my skin with golden kisses which my skin quivers at the touch. I curl around you like cat, nestling against your chest, purring with every stroke eyes closed, I am at peace. My hands roam across your body I trace the contours of your back, tingling with every touch. My Gold.

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Dec 5, 2010

Dec 5, 2010 at 3:50 AM UTC

My Gold

I enjoy the feel of your skin , upon my skin So creamy and silky, like warm tea. I drink you in, the heat gently warms me to the core I bathe in your glow, which gently heats me to the core, you caress my skin with golden kisses which my skin quivers at the touch. I curl around you like cat, nestling against your chest, purring with every stroke eyes closed, I am at peace. My hands roam across your body I trace the contours of your back, tingling with every touch. My Gold.

18

I try to wipe that pretentious smirk off your face, but it refuses to slide - how stubborn! It merely slips and sinks even more deeply into your square face. Exchanging vocabulary, throwing words out like missiles. I take every hit, and note from swelling flames, the scent of your desperation that plays in the smoke. Failure to sustain your act. Puppy dog eyes miserably dissolve, your grin sneaks a glance here and there. It's time subtlety broke your megaphone.

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Nov 28, 2010

Nov 28, 2010 at 12:12 PM UTC

Get Over It.

I try to wipe that pretentious smirk off your face, but it refuses to slide - how stubborn! It merely slips and sinks even more deeply into your square face. Exchanging vocabulary, throwing words out like missiles. I take every hit, and note from swelling flames, the scent of your desperation that plays in the smoke. Failure to sustain your act. Puppy dog eyes miserably dissolve, your grin sneaks a glance here and there. It's time subtlety broke your megaphone.

11

A vicious circle of idiotic vulnerability that leaves me quaking with shame. My head was at peace. It trusted too easily, until something ugly pierced my senses with its knife of selfishness. My brain is manipulated, haunted by an echo of pain. * My Lucky Star shoots across the sky, just for me to bathe in his glow. When the night's sky engulfs me he shines, just for me, to help me find myself again. * The hideous thing, tears apart my mind with its savage disease ridden hands. It clumsily plants a seed of worry inside my head and offers me a whisper laced with venom and printed with a smirk - "What if your star falls?" It's a **** No matter how hard I try to cut it back, it keeps growing. Someone help me find the root? The **** is relentless - Questions tumble out of my mouth The Star listens sadly, his light fading with every tainted word. I shy away. I hide my face. I brush away the tears. But My brain cannot stop. Help Me.

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Nov 27, 2010

Nov 27, 2010 at 3:36 AM UTC

Living inside my head

A vicious circle of idiotic vulnerability that leaves me quaking with shame. My head was at peace. It trusted too easily, until something ugly pierced my senses with its knife of selfishness. My brain is manipulated, haunted by an echo of pain. * My Lucky Star shoots across the sky, just for me to bathe in his glow. When the night's sky engulfs me he shines, just for me, to help me find myself again. * The hideous thing, tears apart my mind with its savage disease ridden hands. It clumsily plants a seed of worry inside my head and offers me a whisper laced with venom and printed with a smirk - "What if your star falls?" It's a **** No matter how hard I try to cut it back, it keeps growing. Someone help me find the root? The **** is relentless - Questions tumble out of my mouth The Star listens sadly, his light fading with every tainted word. I shy away. I hide my face. I brush away the tears. But My brain cannot stop. Help Me.

35

I enter Auschwitz 1. Apprehensive crunches with every step. I stand in a gas chamber. Fully clothed. With oxygen flowing freely. I stand on a spot where thousands have stood before me. But I'm able to make an exit, Yet I'm rooted to the floor, Transfixed with horror. I feel like the last remaining tree, surrounded by a forest of death. Deforestation makes me sick. * Birkenau has a secret that it doesn't want to tell. A broken ending stood still. The arches. The ruins. The tracks. Thuds of reality slapping my face. Stood inside the bleak barracks, our guide asks us "Imagine what it would like to be here - What you'd see, smell, hear." My eyes widen open in a scream, they sting, fighting back at the image conjured within my mind. I take a sharp breath and close my eyes. I am scared.

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Nov 18, 2010

Nov 18, 2010 at 10:00 AM UTC

The Day I Visited Auschwitz

I enter Auschwitz 1. Apprehensive crunches with every step. I stand in a gas chamber. Fully clothed. With oxygen flowing freely. I stand on a spot where thousands have stood before me. But I'm able to make an exit, Yet I'm rooted to the floor, Transfixed with horror. I feel like the last remaining tree, surrounded by a forest of death. Deforestation makes me sick. * Birkenau has a secret that it doesn't want to tell. A broken ending stood still. The arches. The ruins. The tracks. Thuds of reality slapping my face. Stood inside the bleak barracks, our guide asks us "Imagine what it would like to be here - What you'd see, smell, hear." My eyes widen open in a scream, they sting, fighting back at the image conjured within my mind. I take a sharp breath and close my eyes. I am scared.

31

A spray of saliva flies from your mouth, like a anger-ridden ocean storm, Eyes widening white with an unfathomable rage, You're like an ugly monster trapped in a cell. "Are you claustrophobic dear monster? Tell me is that the reason you shriek, like an amplified agonised bird?" I avoid your mouth, because every time I cross its path, it spits out vicious flames which burn my senses, and I fail to recognise who you are.

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Nov 17, 2010

Nov 17, 2010 at 12:10 PM UTC

The Monster

A spray of saliva flies from your mouth, like a anger-ridden ocean storm, Eyes widening white with an unfathomable rage, You're like an ugly monster trapped in a cell. "Are you claustrophobic dear monster? Tell me is that the reason you shriek, like an amplified agonised bird?" I avoid your mouth, because every time I cross its path, it spits out vicious flames which burn my senses, and I fail to recognise who you are.

11

You spout once again, a ham-handed lie, which stutters and stumbles from your lips. But my dear, never again will they feel mine. Uncontrollable rage shudders through my body, Anger pulsates quickly through my veins, turning my blood to lava I am the radiator of fury. I feel the power rushing to my hand and it explodes, hitting your face, my eruption throwing you to the ground, teaching you your place. I am no puppet, no longer can you mould, manipulate, mangle my mind. And there lies a beautiful burn on the side of your face. It still glows with my fire. No amount of water can put it out. I never loved you. But I love the mark I left. It's a shame no one called the ******* collectors, they left your mouth beside the pavement.

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Nov 7, 2010

Nov 7, 2010 at 7:06 AM UTC

Violence isn't the answer, but a slap does work

You spout once again, a ham-handed lie, which stutters and stumbles from your lips. But my dear, never again will they feel mine. Uncontrollable rage shudders through my body, Anger pulsates quickly through my veins, turning my blood to lava I am the radiator of fury. I feel the power rushing to my hand and it explodes, hitting your face, my eruption throwing you to the ground, teaching you your place. I am no puppet, no longer can you mould, manipulate, mangle my mind. And there lies a beautiful burn on the side of your face. It still glows with my fire. No amount of water can put it out. I never loved you. But I love the mark I left. It's a shame no one called the ******* collectors, they left your mouth beside the pavement.

20