Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2011 Day
KM
Welcome Back
 Oct 2011 Day
KM
Hello, hello, please come inside.
Let's share another bowl, take another ride.
Insincerity burns the light shining in your eyes,
Lying to me for redemption, recreating our ties.
I return your gaze, ask you why.
You fumble, your smoke of faux passion blown away.
Inside I laugh, but turn to you and say okay.
Then once again we travel down this road,
Slipping back into together mode.
So come inside my friend, use my body, take your toll.
For no matter what you do to me, you don't control my soul.
Now as we reconcile, touch again, start to smile.
I'm farther away than ever,
Head in the clouds, back whenever.
 Oct 2011 Day
The They
Solution
 Oct 2011 Day
The They
Life,  
Through the differentiation
Of its own self-engendering movement,
Veils its own eyes  
to the privilege of its self-experience.
What a joke when
a life full of contemplation
has only to show for its efforts
the understanding that occurs
when the mind is silenced by its own contradictions.
Understanding that
When I see you,
I see me.
From my blog http://the-they.blogspot.com/
 Oct 2011 Day
PK Wakefield
i've got rawness in me

     (in my fingers even)

i've got it in me (i've
got it in you) i've got
rawness in each knee
pressed 'gainst the
smooth roughing
linoleum i've got my
knees against it
rubbing(but i don't
notice nearly) i merely
notice your skirt's hem
'gainst my neck
                            '
                              ­、

                        '


                                  ­、






                   '
 Oct 2011 Day
Critter Khan
Bring out the reams of broken dreams
so we can charter buses to hell.
Do tell, my friend,
of promises fallen to shade.
Ancient tales of rust,
of lust left unsated.
Holes dug left unfilled.
A vacant grave for words left unspoken.
 Oct 2011 Day
Dawn
Question Mark
 Oct 2011 Day
Dawn
I’m not sure where I belong
Is this world crazy or just me
Sometimes I feel like I’m doing everything so wrong
But then there’s the other me
The person I strive to be
She is courageous and strong
Determine to do all that is assumed wrong  
And sometimes I see her
And all I want is to be her
I tell myself why can’t I break free
Be who I want to be
Do what I want to do
But at the end of the day
I must awake from this fantasy
Because no one is ready for me
No one is ready to truly accept people who are different  
So I’ll put on smile
And compose myself
I’m out of the box
That is easy to see
But I stay within guidelines
Because society would never accept me
And when the world is ready to open their minds
To accept and recognize that we are beautiful and unique

To embrace each individual’s originality  
Only then will I get to be me
I will get to shine
Until then, unfortunately, I will stay within the guidelines
Drinking another glass of wine
Throwing up a peace sign
Smiling and laughing on all the cue times
But never saying what is truly on my mind
 Oct 2011 Day
Mimi
Graffiti
 Oct 2011 Day
Mimi
Tonight I married a graffiti artist.
This is the third time I’ve been proposed to
at some ***** house party.
This time there was an ordained all-faith minister
on the porch smoking a cigarette. That was enough.
I said yes.
We’re all strictly first-name-basis here, nicknames are even better.
So to him I’m just Mimi. Focused intently on my hand,
he draws my wedding ring with a permanent marker
and kisses each finger as he finishes.
There is a tiny replica of his tattoo on the underside of my finger
in addition to my gigantic drawn-on diamond.
It is my favorite part.
We talk politics and eventually art.
Turns out he’s sort of an amazing artist.
He said he’d put my name up on a wall but I don’t believe him.
Intricate, passionate, and thoughtful.
His smile is adventure.
That’s why I married him.
He asked to read my poetry and in my fuzzy judgment I let him.
Maybe he even liked a few phrases.
And he was polite as a hopped up boy can be.
Getting me home before three,
lending me his jacket without me asking.
I know he’ll forget to call, or that he even has my number.
and that we won’t watch Pulp Fiction
tomorrow.
That I was really just a glorified
snort of some white powder,
I am like all the glitter that fades in the morning
like smiles do, or permanent marker
after a few washes.
(he called the next day)
 Oct 2011 Day
The They
I can see trees
Unfold with stubborn insistence around the empty field
Where breezes pool in lively airs that dance from sky to ground,
Only to plod into the branches that close them to the stars.  

Lost in the pathways leading nowhere,
The wind forgets from where it came
As branches ****** away its vitality
Dissipated into the quiet weeping of the leaves.

But skimming along the canopy ceiling
Above my head: winds rustle trees,
Enveloping me in the mocking absence
Of the quiet freedom of the open air.

Now wind gently greets me at the edge
Where trees sculpt the field’s subtle form
Which gives the openness its place
And gives pause to a restless mind.  

And now I realize the forest’s trees
Which unfold in their ordered grace,
Allow the freedom of the open to possess
The meaning that I longed to seek.
metaphor
Next page