Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
christopher-j-marsaglia
American I try to love the world, every piece of her. Even when I hate her. / I am bored, go to college and 21.
Her eyes are not like the sun; more red like coral red. Her ******* are dun and cold, like snow. Black wires grow on her head. I think my love is rare as any with false compare. I know music hath a more pleasing sound, but I love to hear her speak.
0
Nov 28, 2010
Nov 28, 2010 at 4:06 PM UTC
Sonnet 130
I breathe in the cold day and my lungs are chilled. When I speak the words dissipate into nothingness so fast; leaving no odor, no form or meaning, but smoke stays around. There is passionate tenacity. Just a kiss, a little suction and she feels me with warmth and weight, next to my heart and above my stomach; right where love is. It lingers with me on my tongue, in my throat. I have to wash my hair twice to get her out.
0
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
Deep in the Lungs
I look and I see a bird perched on a stack or chimney or something. Sometimes it would be nice to think naive thoughts about whether these birds chirp with an accent; that they say their vowels a little differently. Directly, I understand I don't know anything yet, and I directly see the world as knowledge, but the choice is whether I purge the world and set it on fire, breath in the smoke. I could choose naivety but I want flesh, blood, bone and ***
0
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 5:11 PM UTC
Eat, Curse, ****
The barmaid, the one with the toned forearms and the cute accent, looks like you. Feelings come back momentarily. I keep my mouth shut, like I always have. That's our relationship. Congrats on your engagement.
0
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 5:04 PM UTC
To Ashley...
I cross the yellow lines listening, wanting some punk destruction. Speeding, now, always, down the hill in N. I floor the pedal, screaming to the nightdreamers I was here. Burning the gasoline in my veins. They stay asleep. They don't deserve my howl, my cry, my kiss, but I'll keep screaming until my heart stops beating. Hell is if I actually died.
0
Aug 3, 2010
Aug 3, 2010 at 2:57 PM UTC
Hell
With Jungle eyes and cougar hide, you sit at the bar in idle conversation. Your age doesn't fit your face but on your tummy, just above your waist, wrinkled nebulae and the half moon scar show your whole universe. And you show me the ethereal ways of love and *** I thought there was more to it, but that naive notion falls flaccid, as you grab your dress, pull it over your head and leave.
0
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 10:05 PM UTC
Jungle Cat
She grabs me by my eyes. Blinded by her beauty I try to find her, but she has me in her right hand. Yelling her name to let me see her, I taste her thumb in my mouth and the garbled question arises, "what am I doing?" She tastes like pennies. I begin to trust her. I allow her to take me. She allows me to take her, and I embrace her softly and she tightens her grip. She makes it for my heart. The little pressure on my chest grows, it becomes hard to breath. It grows, I am confused. With one final force she puts her foot up on my sternum and leaps back, tearing off nose, my incisors, letting my eyes droop toward the floor. All I can see are the shoes of the other she held with her left.
0
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 10:18 AM UTC
Lost Love Equated to Pain
Bury me with the River Spirit. Frozen underground, surrounded by snow in the heart of the canyon. Let it hold me next to the babbles, the falls, in the trees and among the cabins I can't hear or see. On my knees howling at the sun, it shines down and stings my frostbite. Dead in the ground when the canyons fail, the waters halt and all things fall and I won't see you. All things are harder to find when you are in a wooden box and buried.
0
Apr 18, 2010
Apr 18, 2010 at 4:59 PM UTC
Sundance
The sweet smell of raisins fresh from the pack. A lit cherry is a beating heart. The wet end is as good as kissed lips. It makes my legs loose and trembly like love. Leaves me breathless and achy. Smoking scares you. I smoke for inspiration, the pains remind me I am alive, and I'm not suppose to live forever.
0
Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 12:08 PM UTC
Smoking
The Dentist's Assistant at the Dental Clinic is without man. For the 15 years I've gone there she has watched movies and has been single. She has a rabbit. Her life revolves around her DVR and trips to Disneyland, but the needle that holds her spinning universe up is that rabbit. Like an immovable Jenga brick, one as stone, the one that can't be pulled, held onto so tightly by the other bricks -- their love. But with enormous force, you can tear it apart. That one little brick and the whole tower collapses. Smashing the table. Destroying her. The simplest way to **** someone is to tear out their heart and show it to them.
0
Mar 4, 2010
Mar 4, 2010 at 7:40 PM UTC
Brick and Needle