Useful, is a word he often used,
To describe his girls he'd cast his curse
Upon and the blurry nights,where love was refused.
By him, one word used as well as the first.
Useless, also rolled off his bitter tongue to title those girls,
And their lowered chins and their hopeful eyes
Glued to his, as if they were rubies or fresh-water pearls.
Music to his ears, were those girl's sighs.
These girls splattered with titles,
Inevitable, shamed or a *****
Their "I'm O.K." smile, a daily recital.
The word love has truly been skewed.
His impressive love consumption,
And those nameless girls well-being an assumption.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
Like a dandelion ripe with age,
From butter to cotton,
My wife, you become with time,
A feel in which cannot be forgotten.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
Blurring nights to be a teenage queen.
She's oh so sophisticated,
Mouth full of slurred words and red wine,
Lipgloss lined lips and
Eyes perfectly defined, winged,
lashes cloaked in black,
Mascara'd run if it weren't enclosed
In lash reformatory.
Her hair, to be described
Would take as long, as the length goes on.
She has an acquired taste,
Like a roasted Colombian mix, or a spice tea,
She
Is intriguing and alluring.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
I'd always ******* up her lips
-when I'd drawn them.
Not when I kissed her.
I'll never get that close.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
Tightening vines about a blossoms throat,
Choking roots, entwined:
Preventing the dew to soak.
Burning butterfly wings,
Mutilating the ones with flowers.
There's no song to sing,
To relieve big hands from power.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
First associated with romantic love,
My baby sings a sweet song:
“Away and above”
Innocence cascades from her tender lips,
Trembling.
Fresh, and guileless
She’s December’s snow sprinklings;
Pale, and shamed.
And perfectly lonely
She’s wildly tame.
Her affection spreads to me solely.
Look she’s smiling.
How customary.
Her feelings interior
Au contraire, she
Fell to a man of superior
Strength.
I took her hair in my hand,
Her brickle strands,
Breaking, and
her heart dropped
To the earth and I stomped.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
Dear the blessed people,
The powerful people,
We would like to thank you,
for changing everything
For the worst at the time,
The worst now,
And the worst forever.
The changes haven’t changed for hundreds of years.
So, thanks for being so constant.
Changing every place to be the same,
But with parallel harm.
We thank you.
We thank you for the forceful religious beliefs,
In which we can pick and choose the dogmas that suit our hate.
We thank you for the brain washing techniques, for,
Without them we would not have so much prejudice.
And last we would like to thank you for helping the weak,
With a price, and with a catch.
Thank you.
You are leaders.
Influential
Leaders,
Sicker than I.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
When we first met, she was but a seed. A mischievous **** sprouting in the grass where I lay. Her lanky leaves and long stem bothered me, and the way she never could sway the same way as the grass forced me resentful.
I poured lemon juice upon her, lathering her in the acidic liquid, wishing her to drown and in the hopes that she’d become more like the dry grass and in the hopes that she’d disappear among them.
Without effect from my malicious attempt of ridding her, my flower continued to grow. In observing this, i refused her water. I enclosed her from the April rainfalls.
Because she was strong, and because of her faith in the spring, my flower kept growing with what little she had. In the summer, weeks past, i returned to see of what little was left of this **** Only to find under a grass covered leather, a slouching flower with white, wilting petals still facing the sun.
I realised the beauty she’d composed and felt her consecrated seed sow within the pit of my stomach. Like a barbed hook embedded in a fish’s lip, a part of her anchored. Thorns leapt from my internal stem, oozing liquid, guilt venom.
I frantically poured sugar-water over her as she offered her berries to me.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
Each word,
Formed slowly like a rosebud,
Falling from her mouth, and
Leaving petals upon the floor.
I struggle to catch everyone,
As they leave her mouth.
It’s just reasonable, for her to expect
Me to catch everyone.
The hardest thing to catch,
Is a petal playing in the wind.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
He laughs,
Even when I’m not telling jokes.
But I don’t mind it.
Politely patronizing me,
He makes me feel young and
I find it...
Soothing.
His wise eyes upon me,
Like a father,
As if I'm your loving daughter.
He smiled at me,
As he rolled his cigarettes tenderly.
I’d always compared this,
To the way he’d treated me.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC