the-dragon-prince - Hello Poetry

... I was born into this shadow of beauty we call the American dream, but I was raised in foreign silhouettes. The same exact silhouettes that raised my mother. My first memories were of her forest gods and alpine stories that have taught me how to write spiderwebs into the hearts of the miserable so my words could hold them together. My deadushka's magic could turn monsters into swans with a wink because his love was so contagious. My babushka's, on the other hand, showed me how to howl like darkness so even the wolves would know silence. I was born as spilled as it comes; as ink. I now understand what tragedies look like at first; ("Blessings") *As my mother picks her way across a war with me in her arms, the world catcalls that I am a half-blood puppet. The daughter with Russian strings and American footsteps. I arrive in America where I am reminded I belong here, but that was the first lie that my mother ever fed to me. To this day, it still tastes like expired love. As my father spent all his kindness on me in the earliest years of my life I was given an English tongue and it bullied my Russian one into suicide. That is the only thing my father ever planted in me that he wanted to grow. Those seeds of words I would later bear fruit as ripe poetry. Those fruit of the novels I will someday write as fiction into flesh. However, what is written beneath our skin doesn't necessarily always fit in our mouths. My father's greatest mistake was beating me into a ghost, but giving me the power to write about his hauntings. His abuse moves into our house shortly after he realizes I am a tragedy, not a blessing. As I write myself into the moon one day I will become, I meet a boy who's laughter makes all the planets look dull. We learn to not walk like apologies, but like young legends. He was my first real taste of sunlight since I was brought here, and he spoke heaven into my eyes until I saw it. We loved each other like Peter Pan and Wendy did; deeply, cluelessly, and forever. Our immortality was a toy in the eyes of those who envied us. Yet he summoned the fires we should have feared as kids, but instead we stared into them and smiled. We were happy, and we were never sorry for that.* April 3rd, 2007. *He died. That was the day I was old enough to grow out of a blessing and into the clothes of a tragedy. That was the day the heaven spilled from my eyes like the great flood and went with him. My mother theorizes that is why my eyes aren't as blue as hers anymore. The sounds of bullets hitting bodies today, even ten years later, between then and long ago, has the power to create painful afterimages of him. The post traumatic stress unfastens my blood from my my body and the poetry reacts by shutting me down all at once. Death asks me to write a spiderweb into his own heart, but I refuse. I adopted grief into my family and he got along with abuse pretty well. To survive, I've left the nostalgia of that boy to hibernate deep in my bones. Today is April 3rd, 2017. I stand before a headstone that exists only sometimes in my head. I kneel before it and leave the skeleton of my love like a bouquet of roses. The shadows and silhouettes align, and I hold hands with both of them. I weep as the odes of "it's not your fault" fall onto my ears like they do every year. From friends, lovers, and family. They mean well. Who knows, maybe someday I will have what it takes to believe them. But he never grew up, so guilt still ***** it's wings here.* ---"Sermons with a colorblind priest."

0

the-dragon-prince

Apr 7, 2017

Apr 7, 2017 at 11:53 AM UTC

Skaidrum

Ode to April 3rd

... I was born into this shadow of beauty we call the American dream, but I was raised in foreign silhouettes. The same exact silhouettes that raised my mother. My first memories were of her forest gods and alpine stories that have taught me how to write spiderwebs into the hearts of the miserable so my words could hold them together. My deadushka's magic could turn monsters into swans with a wink because his love was so contagious. My babushka's, on the other hand, showed me how to howl like darkness so even the wolves would know silence. I was born as spilled as it comes; as ink. I now understand what tragedies look like at first; ("Blessings") *As my mother picks her way across a war with me in her arms, the world catcalls that I am a half-blood puppet. The daughter with Russian strings and American footsteps. I arrive in America where I am reminded I belong here, but that was the first lie that my mother ever fed to me. To this day, it still tastes like expired love. As my father spent all his kindness on me in the earliest years of my life I was given an English tongue and it bullied my Russian one into suicide. That is the only thing my father ever planted in me that he wanted to grow. Those seeds of words I would later bear fruit as ripe poetry. Those fruit of the novels I will someday write as fiction into flesh. However, what is written beneath our skin doesn't necessarily always fit in our mouths. My father's greatest mistake was beating me into a ghost, but giving me the power to write about his hauntings. His abuse moves into our house shortly after he realizes I am a tragedy, not a blessing. As I write myself into the moon one day I will become, I meet a boy who's laughter makes all the planets look dull. We learn to not walk like apologies, but like young legends. He was my first real taste of sunlight since I was brought here, and he spoke heaven into my eyes until I saw it. We loved each other like Peter Pan and Wendy did; deeply, cluelessly, and forever. Our immortality was a toy in the eyes of those who envied us. Yet he summoned the fires we should have feared as kids, but instead we stared into them and smiled. We were happy, and we were never sorry for that.* April 3rd, 2007. *He died. That was the day I was old enough to grow out of a blessing and into the clothes of a tragedy. That was the day the heaven spilled from my eyes like the great flood and went with him. My mother theorizes that is why my eyes aren't as blue as hers anymore. The sounds of bullets hitting bodies today, even ten years later, between then and long ago, has the power to create painful afterimages of him. The post traumatic stress unfastens my blood from my my body and the poetry reacts by shutting me down all at once. Death asks me to write a spiderweb into his own heart, but I refuse. I adopted grief into my family and he got along with abuse pretty well. To survive, I've left the nostalgia of that boy to hibernate deep in my bones. Today is April 3rd, 2017. I stand before a headstone that exists only sometimes in my head. I kneel before it and leave the skeleton of my love like a bouquet of roses. The shadows and silhouettes align, and I hold hands with both of them. I weep as the odes of "it's not your fault" fall onto my ears like they do every year. From friends, lovers, and family. They mean well. Who knows, maybe someday I will have what it takes to believe them. But he never grew up, so guilt still ***** it's wings here.* ---"Sermons with a colorblind priest."

11

Seize the night -|- The satisfaction of loneliness? Like a mellow grey afternoon and knowing no one can take it away from you. Let it draw all over the lining of your blood The thing about solitude is that you see it’s beauty with time and it gets sweeter and sweeter. And let me have a taste of that morning dove honey It's only offered to those who die every second a little and the world ends every night for them. *And that is why I have decided to leave your house and home unhaunted* **Yet the ghosts resound in your footsteps you were rain with him but are a hurricane on your own** *Broke the spell to find that nothing changed in me* -|- Skaidrum ARANDENOX

0

the-dragon-prince

Mar 22, 2017

Mar 22, 2017 at 11:39 AM UTC

Skaidrum

Carpe Noctem

Seize the night -|- The satisfaction of loneliness? Like a mellow grey afternoon and knowing no one can take it away from you. Let it draw all over the lining of your blood The thing about solitude is that you see it’s beauty with time and it gets sweeter and sweeter. And let me have a taste of that morning dove honey It's only offered to those who die every second a little and the world ends every night for them. *And that is why I have decided to leave your house and home unhaunted* **Yet the ghosts resound in your footsteps you were rain with him but are a hurricane on your own** *Broke the spell to find that nothing changed in me* -|- Skaidrum ARANDENOX

17

"It will be all right." These words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop myself. "Promise."

0

Mar 17, 2017

Mar 17, 2017 at 2:44 PM UTC

the-dragon-prince

Compromise I

"It will be all right." These words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop myself. "Promise."

3

Confession. I miss you. The first thing I professed was not the warm feeling I had whenever I saw her Nor was it that it was I who had sent her flowers And signed it "your admirer” The first thing I admitted Was my fear That everything I touched broke I remember what you did, Just like it was yesterday. Your eyes brimmed with tears, And you smiled a sad smile. I smiled back. - The first time we were together It was at your house You showed me your dearly loved piano And played me my favorite song “Clair de Lune” Wringing the keys dry of passion I remember thinking If I poured my soul out like you had Maybe, Just maybe, you’d fall for me. You showed me The spines of books you read countlessly Finger fluttering over every title, Tracing each word Like I would your stomach Each night you spent in my bed You told me that I “was like the ocean.” I didn’t know what that meant at the time. - Moon Moon moon moon moon The word I engraved in your ribs every time I touched you. Moon My moon. My lovely moon with sky blue eyes, That never stopped moving. I wish you could stare at me like I had you Maybe you could have seen That every moment I spent My gaze was on yours. But perhaps it was better that way. - I was bitter. You told me not to be. and so I wasn’t - Christmas Eve I came over for dinner And I bought your mother chocolates In hopes she would learn to savor you Like the box she held in her hand. ***I never told you how jealous I was That you had your mother Despite her flaws*** That night I saw you cry for the first time. When I held you in my arms You shook because of your father. You asked me why god would do this to you. I had no answer Other than “I don’t know.” I should’ve told you How I had wished I was in your place That I would take the pain for you. But I didn’t. I know you never would have wanted it that way. - When your birthday came I gave you a jadestone bracelet I had crafted myself I did not tell you the time I took, Or what it had cost. I had hoped you would treasure it Like I to you. - A month ago I saw my loving jade On your best friend’s wrist. I did not tell you how much that had hurt. - You gravitated towards him And grew closer with others I drifted Oh like the sea - That March I went to California to see my ma. I don’t recall if I told you That every night I watched that sun sink into the coast. And it reminded me The way your hand held mine. When I came back you spoke of nothing but sadness I tried endlessly To tie a knot in that poison-filled vein. But the sickness spread. I wish I could’ve been your cure. You were sand slipping between my fingers And I did not know how to tell you That my waves had lost purpose If there was no shore. Come Back - *“Captain O’ Captain, The eye of the sea Was the bottom of her heart.”* - Summer had come We had spent one tired night watching fields of fireflies At 1:49 am I couldn’t find words To tell you my heart had danced Like every one of those little lights When someone even breathed your name. I wish I had Summer had gone - When fall had struck You left me. - My thoughts clammered in disbelief You told me it was because it was you and not me. Just some sort of cliché I suppose. - Months later when I asked You said it was because you thought I had feelings for another. How foolish I was for letting you believe that For even a second. *I should have told you Your soul had sunk a hole in my chest that beated to the sound of your voice.* My heart sang a sick melody - Two years have past Last week you told me you left Because you didn’t feel loved. *You never saw the way my eyes traced up and down your body but always pulled back to your face* I remember what you did, Just like it was yesterday. - When I confessed You kissed every one of my fingertips, And said that you did so that everything I touched would feel loved. Oh, how I wish those words were true.

0

the-dragon-prince

Mar 1, 2017

Mar 1, 2017 at 8:28 PM UTC

lycanthethrope

Smile Soft

Confession. I miss you. The first thing I professed was not the warm feeling I had whenever I saw her Nor was it that it was I who had sent her flowers And signed it "your admirer” The first thing I admitted Was my fear That everything I touched broke I remember what you did, Just like it was yesterday. Your eyes brimmed with tears, And you smiled a sad smile. I smiled back. - The first time we were together It was at your house You showed me your dearly loved piano And played me my favorite song “Clair de Lune” Wringing the keys dry of passion I remember thinking If I poured my soul out like you had Maybe, Just maybe, you’d fall for me. You showed me The spines of books you read countlessly Finger fluttering over every title, Tracing each word Like I would your stomach Each night you spent in my bed You told me that I “was like the ocean.” I didn’t know what that meant at the time. - Moon Moon moon moon moon The word I engraved in your ribs every time I touched you. Moon My moon. My lovely moon with sky blue eyes, That never stopped moving. I wish you could stare at me like I had you Maybe you could have seen That every moment I spent My gaze was on yours. But perhaps it was better that way. - I was bitter. You told me not to be. and so I wasn’t - Christmas Eve I came over for dinner And I bought your mother chocolates In hopes she would learn to savor you Like the box she held in her hand. ***I never told you how jealous I was That you had your mother Despite her flaws*** That night I saw you cry for the first time. When I held you in my arms You shook because of your father. You asked me why god would do this to you. I had no answer Other than “I don’t know.” I should’ve told you How I had wished I was in your place That I would take the pain for you. But I didn’t. I know you never would have wanted it that way. - When your birthday came I gave you a jadestone bracelet I had crafted myself I did not tell you the time I took, Or what it had cost. I had hoped you would treasure it Like I to you. - A month ago I saw my loving jade On your best friend’s wrist. I did not tell you how much that had hurt. - You gravitated towards him And grew closer with others I drifted Oh like the sea - That March I went to California to see my ma. I don’t recall if I told you That every night I watched that sun sink into the coast. And it reminded me The way your hand held mine. When I came back you spoke of nothing but sadness I tried endlessly To tie a knot in that poison-filled vein. But the sickness spread. I wish I could’ve been your cure. You were sand slipping between my fingers And I did not know how to tell you That my waves had lost purpose If there was no shore. Come Back - *“Captain O’ Captain, The eye of the sea Was the bottom of her heart.”* - Summer had come We had spent one tired night watching fields of fireflies At 1:49 am I couldn’t find words To tell you my heart had danced Like every one of those little lights When someone even breathed your name. I wish I had Summer had gone - When fall had struck You left me. - My thoughts clammered in disbelief You told me it was because it was you and not me. Just some sort of cliché I suppose. - Months later when I asked You said it was because you thought I had feelings for another. How foolish I was for letting you believe that For even a second. *I should have told you Your soul had sunk a hole in my chest that beated to the sound of your voice.* My heart sang a sick melody - Two years have past Last week you told me you left Because you didn’t feel loved. *You never saw the way my eyes traced up and down your body but always pulled back to your face* I remember what you did, Just like it was yesterday. - When I confessed You kissed every one of my fingertips, And said that you did so that everything I touched would feel loved. Oh, how I wish those words were true.

153

... new moon "just let me sleep," moon eaten my absence upsets all. Look at me, really look at me, stare up at the belly of a loved sky, watch fingers dipping into bowls of blood holding hope, feeling around for a sliver, of sweet milk, of relief, of anything; new moon whispers on the dead bodies left behind, god sighs--- he knows; "I am not the same" waxing crescent map out my wreckage, my skeleton of poetry; in the spines of books loved by mankind, bury me there in a pages of flowers--- in the altitude of words; read me with a hunger you have never known before, over and over; whenever it seems fit~ like the light of the moon is a cigarette. smoking, he's always smoking now. god takes another drag; he describes to me: *"You could be my bible, you book of blood"* I can't stand smoke... "I have no business in being your holy snakeskin." first quarter I've been searching for solid ground, solid shadows, a solid compromise; I wanted a little more than ordinary love from him so I asked him where the static began, for me it's below my bottom left rib and found that it was also where the spiders started too. Time, that quiet thing obeys god, only because it waits for no one it loves unzipping the law of alchemy, cause ink flowered in my blood again; I should thank time it was this saving kind of grace; always has been god stroked my hair this time and said quietly: *"You see, the saddest thing is realizing that there's nothing more they can do for you"* waxing gibbous Oh, where's my love? Is it in the fever I call happiness, is it in the sword my mama raised me to be Is it in the way the moon tiptoes closer when he says my name in that beautiful way he does or breaks my name over his teeth like it's just glass apples God doesn't even look at me he doesn't have to; "Do you believe in angels?" the wreckage answers him "not lately" full moon And it begins again I watch as he just looks away and says it's fine it hurts god narrows his eyes but shrugs "Pain had other plans for you." I breathe out raggedly; ***"I guess, if there's no key then I'll just swallow the whole door."*** ...

0

the-dragon-prince

Feb 28, 2017

Feb 28, 2017 at 10:50 PM UTC

Skaidrum

Icarus (Moon Version)

... new moon "just let me sleep," moon eaten my absence upsets all. Look at me, really look at me, stare up at the belly of a loved sky, watch fingers dipping into bowls of blood holding hope, feeling around for a sliver, of sweet milk, of relief, of anything; new moon whispers on the dead bodies left behind, god sighs--- he knows; "I am not the same" waxing crescent map out my wreckage, my skeleton of poetry; in the spines of books loved by mankind, bury me there in a pages of flowers--- in the altitude of words; read me with a hunger you have never known before, over and over; whenever it seems fit~ like the light of the moon is a cigarette. smoking, he's always smoking now. god takes another drag; he describes to me: *"You could be my bible, you book of blood"* I can't stand smoke... "I have no business in being your holy snakeskin." first quarter I've been searching for solid ground, solid shadows, a solid compromise; I wanted a little more than ordinary love from him so I asked him where the static began, for me it's below my bottom left rib and found that it was also where the spiders started too. Time, that quiet thing obeys god, only because it waits for no one it loves unzipping the law of alchemy, cause ink flowered in my blood again; I should thank time it was this saving kind of grace; always has been god stroked my hair this time and said quietly: *"You see, the saddest thing is realizing that there's nothing more they can do for you"* waxing gibbous Oh, where's my love? Is it in the fever I call happiness, is it in the sword my mama raised me to be Is it in the way the moon tiptoes closer when he says my name in that beautiful way he does or breaks my name over his teeth like it's just glass apples God doesn't even look at me he doesn't have to; "Do you believe in angels?" the wreckage answers him "not lately" full moon And it begins again I watch as he just looks away and says it's fine it hurts god narrows his eyes but shrugs "Pain had other plans for you." I breathe out raggedly; ***"I guess, if there's no key then I'll just swallow the whole door."*** ...

86

Now I just think about who else is kissing her. I can't breathe because he only kisses her once. He doesn't care if it's perfect.

0

the-dragon-prince

Feb 24, 2017

Feb 24, 2017 at 2:06 PM UTC

lycanthethrope

Ode I

Now I just think about who else is kissing her. I can't breathe because he only kisses her once. He doesn't care if it's perfect.

3

Riding high on crests Whispers hidden 'neath the waves, Our desire to drown

0

the-dragon-prince

Feb 17, 2017

Feb 17, 2017 at 10:00 AM UTC

niamh81

Waves

Riding high on crests Whispers hidden 'neath the waves, Our desire to drown

3

I saw her Lower the moon And as it sunk Into the Sapphire sea My heart changed its tide And my mind filled with disease.

0

Jan 12, 2017

Jan 12, 2017 at 11:31 PM UTC

the-dragon-prince

Just

I saw her Lower the moon And as it sunk Into the Sapphire sea My heart changed its tide And my mind filled with disease.

6

When she spoke, She spoke of stars. And all those little comets she loved So dearly. When she spoke of him, Her voice held a constant pitch. Her eyes proclaimed a different tale As they wavered Lost and lone. Oh how I Lie, You never deserved to be like this. Those little stars burnt out in your skin, and your lips are spitting cosmic dust A blackhole lies where your stomach once was. She only offers Water to sip. All your beauty All you've known Will be ****** into nothingness.

0

Oct 31, 2016

Oct 31, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC

the-dragon-prince

Over The Unknown (Part 1)

When she spoke, She spoke of stars. And all those little comets she loved So dearly. When she spoke of him, Her voice held a constant pitch. Her eyes proclaimed a different tale As they wavered Lost and lone. Oh how I Lie, You never deserved to be like this. Those little stars burnt out in your skin, and your lips are spitting cosmic dust A blackhole lies where your stomach once was. She only offers Water to sip. All your beauty All you've known Will be ****** into nothingness.

19

"Hardly the most," said the wisp to the ghost, as they proposed a toast to the end of their days. "Once lost, twice poisoned," lamented the withering roses, with their thorns pricking those who had given up on their purpose. Here hangs a garden of all that is worthless, with tendrils that seek the necks of poor souls. Drooping from branches like abandoned puppets, without an audience to take in the show. Death sows seeds where no plants grow, but the dead tread there, and they want you to know that no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you learn; everything is flammable, and one day you'll burn.

0

the-dragon-prince

Oct 27, 2016

Oct 27, 2016 at 11:31 AM UTC

JDK

Smoke

"Hardly the most," said the wisp to the ghost, as they proposed a toast to the end of their days. "Once lost, twice poisoned," lamented the withering roses, with their thorns pricking those who had given up on their purpose. Here hangs a garden of all that is worthless, with tendrils that seek the necks of poor souls. Drooping from branches like abandoned puppets, without an audience to take in the show. Death sows seeds where no plants grow, but the dead tread there, and they want you to know that no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you learn; everything is flammable, and one day you'll burn.

15