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 Jun 2016
belbere
she says
my heart is too big
it barely fits
i say
i can feel
the veins
slithering down my
wrists i was born
with walls so thick
no human eye
could see where i
began and where
i ended i
could feel
my heart hammering
away at my ribcage
it wanted to get out
when they tore
down the walls
and brought me into
this world they
didn’t cut deep enough

she talks
in pulses and palpitations
and every time
my heart flutters
she loses her breath
i tried to tear
the walls down myself
i couldn’t cut deep enough

she says
something
a thump a thump
thump but
my heart is too big
it’s the only
thing i hear
the only thing
i know there’s not
enough room for two
i can feel
my veins overflowing
i can’t cut deep enough

my heart
my big, big heart
spilling through my ribcage
it wants to get out

*if i want to let you in
i have to let it out
for miriam x

fun side-note, i was born in my amniotic sac.
 Jun 2016
Thomas
The flame flickers,
I think about it harder,
O the ideas,
The flame is so bright,
It is not evil,
I just sparked an idea,
And now you can see the flame in my eyes.
It's something
 May 2016
Mahdiya Patel
Everytime it begins to rain my mind •floods• with the thought of you
•       •  •
•     •
    •

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 Apr 2016
Stephan
Why are you always so little,
running around kicking shins,
then hiding inside a cookie jar
swearing the crumbs are talking about you
in bittersweet morsels
wiped from hands
stealing all that is sweet in your life?
 Mar 2016
Poetic T
I tied you to the boot of this stolen car, what a pile
of rust but beggars cant be choosy, you do beg but I
chose this place specifically don't worry I tied you
to an old fords car door,  let the fun now begin.

I put the peddle to the metal, I hear you screaming in
anticipation of what happens next. Got to love speed
bumps, 30, 40, 60 then I brake just before swerving
so you sail past then you fly. Screaming all the way.

"I found ford doors have the right weight ratio to land
door side up Skoda's, Audi,

"No,
"The mess of so many to clean up road pastry is not the
easiest to clean away, slinters in my fingers hurt like hell ,


They fly through the air I see them just before some with
eyes closed fear etched on the sweat dripping or is that
tears? I put a three pronged circle to see where they finish
up. Each has a consequence, red, orange and green.

"You land in the outer dam, out comes the penalty stick,

Not many survive that, as I am angry for ill landings a lack
off at least trying, I warn them but some just cry till I give
them a good few whacks. I know silly but I do little sound
effects "bang, bang, splat, then silence and twitching

"Bang, "I hate those that just linger and twitch die already,

Now orange that's ok at least the next one tried, but not hard
enough,I give you a two pronged choice, gouge your sight out
with a spoon or a fork "what at least I'm giving them a choice,
now they scream but some got ***** it must be said.

Some do it, see no evil you know what I'm saying hanging tears
of claret weep from there now semi vacant sockets, and still
they try to blink "look at me, as their head rise, but their still
staring at the floor and I prune the with but two snips. Some
survive others just clutch to a chest and like that "DEAD,

Now those that survive, well lets just say I am a man of my
word I put them in the car to the safety I promise, I talk to
them but understandably their not in the talking mood,
I give them water to hydrate and replenish lost liquid that
has others wise bleed slowly out, and some even say "thank you,

Now what can I say luck, skill, survival instinct but so few have
done it, like a four leaf clover they land in the pastures of green.
I jump up and down like a child at the fair who just won the
big dinosaur on the very first try, punching the air and a very loud
"Hell ye that's what I'm talking about baby,
Then kiss um on the forehead, lips are to personal for my profession.

I tell them what skills what entertainment for some as twisted as it
seems liked what I did, a few even asked for double or nothing.
But luck only goes so far and then the regrettably the penalty stick
came out, I do the sign of L on my forehead then their silent once again.

But those who sighed with relief, as I promised were released, at the
end of a gun mind you a bottle of water given gratefully drank,
then on their merry way, I bid them fair well and as that they never
Divulge this incident as I have their wallets, purses even email
you never no maybe bored and recollect our good times past tense
of course for we all must face what is inevitable,

"Life is moments, where death is a breath that will always last,  

But as is death, freedom is a fleeting moment, and a mind changes
like the wind different direction, different path. Trial and error were
key, things that mattered "weight, height, ***, all factors in the
end result of what is like a momentary freedom to the air then
realization as they descend to a finite moment of death.

I always picked those that drove, why easier to cover tracks of
what was perused in my desires for a unique way to challenge
others need to survive. To breath another moment to exist in this
time of now not to pass. But life is fickle and my fun must last.

I always made sure that they drank the water, a necessity of
what came next ever drop drank, if denied then you guessed
it, penalty stick then "Dam, I do love my sound effects.
But released those with sight no knowledge of their ill fate.

Those I killed in the drivers seat pick a place where
gravity would take president in this delicate manoeuvre
so that they would go through what was needed a accident
of fatal consequence. Then on to the living that was next.


Like jack they rolled down the hill till unconscious they fell,
this little automobile swerving,  ricocheting off boundary and
wall till wheels graced air and the reeve of the engine heard.
A little gift of what was left in the boot a full tank of petrol
and the lid so loosely covered, accidents do happen.

I did one more thing I doubt they noticed there cigarette
lighter engineered to be so slightly hot, just like porridge
to hot would be seen and felt, to cold and would be a waste
of battery not enough, but warmth enough to ignite an
accident in the back and I firework of flames birth forth.

Some exploded they were the best, while others tumbled
flame and wreckage spread out what a mess. I always chose
the location, never the same suspicion would fall and my
fun would expire and probably my life snuffed out in a
breath. always cliffs near by and wall was best.

Now I bid you farewell as other circles must be drawn.
New doors must be had, who will hit the bulls-eye or
who will fail the test. I'll try two doors at once spice
up life's fun a little who will hit green and who will
be the one who twitches and then "Bang, silence is best.
 Mar 2016
belbere
mark us
like sheep
my fleece may be
store-bought,
washed clean
of all
identity
but i’ve got
a patchwork neck
spotted and dotted
with broken
blood vessels and
i’ve seen the
girls with pennies
scraping at their
skin trying to
get rid of him
one stroke
at a time
(his lips were
just as rough
as the ridges
of their coins)
and
i’ve heard the
girls with pennies
their marks may
have faded
but their pockets
jingle with
each step they
take each move
they make they say
his tongue dripped
gold and
silver and
bronze all over
them but all he
left was
red

mark us
like cattle
my ears may
hold rings and
not tags
but i’ve got
skin so fair
you’d never
dare believe
that beneath
i’m just
another collection
of broken
blood vessels and
he may be
gone from the
surface
may be
easy to remove
but i still
bleed
(and the girls
with pennies
scrape at my
neck one
stroke at a
time)

mark me
like property
my body may
be a temple
but your
prayers will
not be
heard here
you say
the girls
don’t need
their pennies
we say you
have no say
in the way
we heal

our vessels
may have been
yours to break
but they are
not yours to
mend and you
can pretend
you never knew
what we went
through when
you decided
to leave
your signature
on our skin

but we promise
when we look at you
we only see
red
here's a fun method of hickey removal: rub the hickey with the ridge of a coin
 Mar 2016
Cecil Miller
When I look into the abyss,
Is it just as confused as I?
What does the dark depth ponder,
When it gazes into me?
Am I impossible?
Can it not even
Fathom all my pieces,
Or how they fit?
How cool the wind will blow -
But is the western sand
Still hot when the storm claws at my face
To scratch out my eyes?
Am I a seat to be despised,
Deposed like a future convict
Railing at the charges held over my head?
Why is it judging me
For not playing along with the game I had no part in creating?
I conject no scheme of ill intent.
Peace, I bid Thee well.
I go my way.
I think I will not include too many notes for this one. It is about feeling the object of scrutiny.
 Feb 2016
Cecil Miller
Look at me with wide open eyes.
Know that I am not as I appear.
I never did mind the darkness,
Even though it frightens me so.

Sometimes, I fool even myself
Into thinking that I search for answers.           
                                             ­      
The truth is something more
Than I ever will display.

SATOR
AREPO
TENET
OPERA
ROTAS

And I awaken.

I speak for him,
I speak though him.

It does not matter the reason.

Never, never will I leave.

There was a crystal chalice
From which I used to drink.
There was a set of pricipals
On which I used to think.

And once the door is opened
The words begin to flow.
I am his brother, partner, lover.

I am the summate of his fears.

I am the solvant of his tears.

Sometimes all you have is yourself.

Sometimes all he has is me.

I make the decisions,
And take the actions
That are too difficult for him.

There are times I haved saved his life,
But I should never be mistaken for what I am not.

My venom is toxic.
The following previously untitled bit is just a little homage to my dark half...hope you like it.
(writen feb 12fth, 2012)
 Feb 2016
belbere
i have known nights
where men walk the sun
and the stars count people

sheep huddle together
in grassy fields
dreaming
of fences
worn down

see, the funny thing
about nights is
at some point
you can’t tell the difference
between the first
and the last

(And hey,
****** ******
The cat’s lost his fiddle
Orion’s got a belt
Round his neck)

the lass
on the moon
plucks planets
from the blue
and decorates
the tangles in
her hair

see, the funny thing
about dreaming is
at some point
you can’t tell the difference
between what hurts
and what doesn’t

(The cat’s started drinking
Orion’s stopped thinking)

dawn
decides to sleep in
for just
another hour
or two

see, the funny thing
about nights is
i have always known them
but know nothing
of you

(And the fiddle has gone out of tune).
love to miri and loor for helping me out
 Jan 2016
Chloe
I want to write a
beautiful poem
to tell you
I'm going to
**** myself.

But there are
No words
beautiful enough
to describe to you
the way
I'm about to die.
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