mama warned me about the missiles
whose streaks resemble
pasty fingers of thoughts with
ill intentions.
jawlines layered with grassy residue,
a time bomb—
tick tock ticking throughout
a timely test.
silly me,
sentimental turnstiles turned back in time and
an eruption of vivid green
internally bleeding.
melancholy magnolias blooming
behold.
shadows capture my
gentrified façade
in our yellowed mellowed atmosphere.
morning bells
delight the Sapphic sleeper,
but not
the creature of the night.
enchanted amongst
the vulnerable,
beautiful,
beyond,
belief.
citadels built from bedframes,
trailing magazines
of livid dreamers
and adolescent ideas—
not an isolated incident.
mama warned me about clasping wrists
and bruised collarbones
replaced with titanium plates.
dandelion fuzz fraught with
five o’ clock shadow,
a delightful daze—
distraction.
fluid familial instinct,
virtually incapable of
****** affection.
riotous, rugged, risky.
backbone crooked
rickety.
knuckles lined up in reverse
chronological,
no,
alphabetical,
no,
circumstantial
order.
petrifying wisps of morning’s light,
sacrificial intents of starry nights.
bruised knees and white thighs
bruised words and white lies
bruised hellos and white goodbyes.
superficial daydreams
mistaken for junkyard radiators
and the little engine
that could not.
singing birds shot out of the twilight sky,
and the red rush of accomplishment
tip-toeing towards the truth.
skipping stones disturb
the salmon’s
cove while
my butterfly’s monarchy
is out of order.
mama warned me of backfiring cannons
with delayed reactions,
laughing at the purple pigeons
who can sing the swan’s song.
cyclical and cynical
cried the weary modem.
awe inspired anticipation
set against relations.
table tennis played
with a chocolate chip,
curled eyelash confusion,
and I can’t touch my toes.
mama warned me about big guns
that don’t fire,
about broken rigs
that insist you go higher.
a projectile clock haunts my memories.
forbidden animosity plagues
the higher order,
consistently screaming
take me! biblically.
a rocket launcher versus
your catapult,
a millennium of thought
discredited.
stained tablecloths of mutiny
and sin.
an uproar of the masses threaded
between frosty fingers, and
his lullaby?
her nightmare.
a song of Peaceful Persuasion.
mama warned me about loose ends
and splitting ties,
or was it split ends
and loose ties?
belligerent invitations disguised as
fruitful farewells.
a thought for the reckoning—
mistaken mothers made merciless,
warning bells, or
morning bells?
flawed and broken tattooed
on ivory skin.
ebony lost and confused,
cracks against its own nature
wind the winding wind,
explicitly innocent—
masochism foretold.
evergreen amongst the sunrise,
pitiful playthings
strewn across the floor.
****** screams
piercing my skin,
a call for help seldom answered—
tectonic plates.
mama didn’t warn me with her words.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
blue nights
and blue feelings
full of thoughts
but blue is not the warmest color
it is a clandestine coalition fraught with
the fear of losing my mind
goosebumps plague my arms
lined with midnight tinted rivers—
blue that is
who blew my cover
an ocean mist
canned
set to do my healing
a stinging shock prior to progression
hot flashes integrated indefinitely
right as rain and
cold as coal
choking on my own greasy innards
sapphire, she screamed
tear stained leaflets of mundane
satisfaction
with the inability to recall
her calling
am I she? and is she
me?
skylight reflecting a genuine
taste for ruby slippers
an insane asylum for
marketing matters
****** upon the
heroic cape
of toxic kryptonite
silly sentiments of the nighttime winds
shades drawn concealing
periwinkle despair
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 1:38 AM UTC
struggle is the art form of the pitied, imagine
living lavishly, lightheartedly like a ladybug
in the spring just outside the city and
bliss: seldom seen in soldiers,
a privilege of the over privileged,
shining a bright, White light on each
and every one’s inner Judas, a way
to justify their means to demean
the conflict of the ages:
stay not in the sad, safe
confinements of that chrysalis or
smell not of that sweet, sweet,
chrysanthemum whose breath rocks of
morbidity.
breaking boundaries or snapping necks like
twigs on twigs on a White winter’s day, the summer:
long gone, and the fall: Black bruised knees and
scraped thighs, and a White world’s worth of words
left to say.
the New Year and the spring, alive and true,
are carried in by the southern wind and
trying times are all but through.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
WE WILL STOP WRITING **** POEMS WHEN WE RUN OUT OF MATERIAL BUT UNTIL THEN WE WILL CONTINUE TO SAY WHAT NEEDS TO BE SAID TO THOSE WHO REALLY NEED TO HEAR IT BECAUSE THE HALT IN THE FLOW OF THE SCARLET RIVER DOES NOT MEAN WE ARE WEARING SCARLET LETTERS
DON'T EXPECT ME TO BREAK MY BONES FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT MY BONES BREAKING, MY HEAD SHAKING, AND MY HEART QUAKING
I AM SORRY THAT I AM ATHENA
I AM SMILING BECAUSE I CAN AND MY LIPS ARE NOT ENFLAMED FROM KISSING YOUR *** BUT FROM KISSING THE BOY WHO TOLD ME HE LOVED ME FROM THE BOTTOM OF HIS HEART, NOT THE TIP OF HIS DICK, AND MEANT IT
I AM LAUGHING AT YOUR VIRGINITY THAT YOU ARE SO PROUD OF BECAUSE MINE NEVER EXISTED, AND NEITHER DID THOSE OF YOUR BELOVED ADAM AND EVE
AND I AM ATHENA
AS MY SCARLET RIVER BEGINS TO FLOW AGAIN, THE HANDS OF GOD RETRACT BACK TO THE SHADOWS HE IS NOT HER GOD, BUT HERR GOD
MY BAD FOR THINKING THAT HE WAS OURS
I SHOULD NOT BE LIVING IN FEAR BECAUSE I AM ATHENA
THE PATRIARCH QUESTIONS MY BODY AND MAKES ME ASHAMED OF MY NATURAL ANATOMY
AND I AM SORRY THAT MY BODY UNDERGOES PROCESSES AS NATURAL AS ******* PHOTOSYNTHESIS
BUT IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT YOU FORGOT THAT THE LAST TIME YOU ****** OFF
BUT DON'T FORGET THAT I AM ATHENA
GO AHEAD AND COMPLAIN ABOUT MY ENDLESS PREACHING BUT THIS IS NOT MY FIRST **** POEM AND IT IS DEFNITIELY NOT MY LAST
BECAUSE THERE IS SOMETHING TO BE SAID WHEN ROBIN THICKE CAN SAY HE HAS A BIG **** YET I CANNOT WEAR A SPAGHETTI STRAP TO SCHOOL
AND GOD FORBID I HAVE TO *** AT A PARTY, YOU'LL JUST POISON ME INTO YOUR SHEETS
AND IF BY CHANCE I MAKE IT OUT OF THAT PARTY ALIVE, I CAN'T WALK DOWN THE STREET AT NIGHT WITHOUT MY KEYS SCRAPING THE CREVICES OF MY FINGERS
REMEMBER WHEN NO MEANT NO? AND STOP DID NOT MEAN GO?
I AM ATHENA BECAUSE I NEED TO BE PLEASE DON'T TURN INTO HEPHAESTUS
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
Months ago I would cry at night and I would always be able to find you in the dark. But seasons change and it just so happens that the reason I am crying tonight is you, so where do i go now? I can't see the moon anymore. Why do you keep me clandestine when I insist on letting you shine? I think you've gotten too bright, you're burning a hole straight through my chest. I think you're cataclysmic. My clairvoyance is impeccable, you can't fool me. Darkness spreads across the land as I try to fight off the problem at hand. Leave it to the man that hides behind the sun to be the damsel in distress, but please note that I cannot **** your demons for you. There once was a girl who stood stiff like a tree and broke pieces of bark off of a real one because she couldn't rip herself apart. Yet. And that evening the sky shined blue-violet as she swallowed razor blades. And that night the moon fell out of the sky. She is me. What I am trying to say is that candlelight is weak and if you want to make a point you need to shine like the Pistol Star on a good day. My love, my sun, my light. It's humid in here and it's taking a toll on your hair. I'm smiling at the ground as you remember the cracks and crevices that line my wrists. Does any of this even make any sense? You're a rotten apple that fell off that tree that I decided to deface so many years ago. And I don't think you've forgiven me.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
if I was an addict
you'd be the coke
I'd be dependent
and you'd keep me running
if I was down
you'd bring me higher
I'd be scattered around
my mind, on fire
but take you away
or give me too much
in the morgue I would lay
because I needed the rush
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
am I just an excavation site to you?
you **** archaeologists
digging for some relics of the past
greedily searching for personal gain
and if you find nothing of any worth to you?
well
you move on
without a second thought
that ground you just wrecked?
it won't ever be the same
sorry it wasn't enough for you!
sorry it didn't meet your grand expectations!
the least you could do is act like you give a ****
but instead
you run off in search
of something better
never know that you just dug a little bit deeper
you would've struck gold.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
when we started,
you always held my hand
so I wouldn't get pulled
in the wrong direction.
it was a beautiful time
and everything
was okay.
I never got lost
and we were never lonely
because each other's company
was more than enough.
two miles up the road
I lost my balance,
our hands lost contact,
and you didn't reach out
to help me.
you let me fall
because you started not to care.
six miles down the road
and you left me
with a map
that I could not read,
running after something,
that was far behind me.
I followed your footprints
into the middle of nowhere
and they led me into
a patch of poison ivy.
I was alone,
four miles behind where I started
and I don't think I have ever felt so
lost.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
he's the type of boy that will only fall in love on Halloween
he'll take care of his dainty little princess
he'll promise her the world
he'll promise her a lifetime
but Halloween is just one day
and she can't wear that costume forever
as soon as she reveals herself
he'll figure out that she's not what he wanted
he was living in a fantasy
//
she's the type of girl that will only fall in love on Halloween
she'll look up to this superhuman
because he can give her the world
he can give her a lifetime
but Halloween is just one day
and he can't wear that mask forever
as soon as he reveals himself
she'll figure out he can't be what she wants
that he can't take care of the little princess
that she is within
but not without
//
a story of love that never really was
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 1:09 AM UTC
I am the earth and mistakenly
I thought you were my sun
but you're just a distant star
whose heat cannot power me
I waited
and waited
but still
it could not reach me
I sought the comfort
only your heat would allow
and left myself for dead
because it was never you
I was waiting for
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC