Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Aug 2012 Ian
Madeline
and so it's up to us to
shoulder the world and march into a new one -
into the blackened dawn.
ashes, ashes, we all will rise.
claim the day.
soldier through the blackness,
through the blackened dawn -
and run towards the sunlight you've made.

take up your tinkers, your toys,
take up your trade.
strangle the blackness with your hope.
use what you have.
fight with tools and
build something
(any way you can).

we can change it but
only if we try.
 Aug 2012 Ian
PJ
Doors Unlocked
 Aug 2012 Ian
PJ
Whenever I get in a car I make sure the doors are locked
I do this because I like to lean against the window with my whole body
It's terrifying to think that the door could just fly open and I could fall out
Sometimes I make sure everyone's doors are locked
It's sort of a pet peeve of mine
Or maybe it's more of an anxiety

I climbed into the back seat of my dad's big red truck last night
I leaned against the door like I always do
But I didn't lock the door,
Actually I made sure it was unlocked
You could say I was waiting for something bad to happen
The truth is I wasn't waiting, I was wishing
 Aug 2012 Ian
DAEJR
My Feather Heart
 Aug 2012 Ian
DAEJR
My heart was leadened
a frozen feather
in dense ice
spiraling in a tornado.

I grew colder building
a shell to weigh me down
so I could stop spinning;
I dreamt of shattering,
splinters on the ground.

You were a single ray of light
that pierced the storm,
calmed the grey-green tempest,
and my shell began to melt.

I finally saw rainbows.

Your warm breeze
took hold of my heart,
carried me,
taught me to dance;

But even feathers hit the ground.
So I tied myself
to the cobwebs in your heart
and became your dreamcatcher.

Dream easy now,
our nightmares have disappeared.
 Aug 2012 Ian
Emelia Ruth
These winds that blow
are the breaths that you breathe.
This field that we lay in
of tall flourished wheat
is your flowing golden hair.
Those cute little birds
that dance across the blue sky
are the freckles on your skin.
That big bright Sun
that makes everybody's day
is the beautiful smile on your face.
The warmth of the soil
that emanates off this land
is the comfort of your touch.
These little things
are all that remain of you.
This is the land that we became.
And this is the land
that holds your grave.
I come here from time to time,
to remember these things
that once were mine.
 Jul 2012 Ian
Madeline
and if i stop, i'll miss the little things:
shaving my legs when i know you're coming over and
not drinking coffee because you don't like the taste of it on my tongue.

i'll miss
running out to your car with my shoes in my hand,
the very last goodnight kiss that's always sweetest.

i'll miss lying to my parents about traffic
and weather
when we were right around the curve of the road,
stealing kisses.

i'll miss
when you don't shave because you know i like your scruffy boy-stubble
when you touch my face without speaking
when your actions
are louder
than words.

i'll miss
your sweetness
i'll miss
your puckish sincerity
i'll miss
you.

i'll miss your hands
your tongue
and your lips on my cheek.

i'll miss you kissing each one of my fingers.

i'll miss our secret handshakes,
our inside jokes,
our petty fights.

i'll miss our song.
i'll miss our arguments about the beatles' breakup,
our railings against religious institutions
our speaking of souls.

and so what i'm proposing,
from me to you,
girl to boy and
heart to heart,
is that you don't stop loving me,
and i
won't stop loving
you.
 Jul 2012 Ian
kaylee adamz
i don’t want to love you
anymore
i’d rather love books
and words
and the sea
when it rages
i’d rather love
adventure and
late nights
filled with smiles

i don’t want to hide
anymore
i’d rather fly
to a far away mountain
and scream
at the top of
a blue peak
i’d rather explode
with virtue
like a light—
a star
who has met
it’s end

i don’t want to love you
anymore
i don’t want
the sun to fall
i don’t want
my coffee to go cold
or my cigarettes
to wage war
on my lungs
but there’s little to do
when the universe
twists
in it’s inevitable ways
 Jul 2012 Ian
Thomas McEnaney
Eyes
 Jul 2012 Ian
Thomas McEnaney
Jonah asked me,
‘Thomas, do you wear sunglasses all the time because you don't have eyes?’
In my head I said ‘yes Jonah, you’re right!
I wear them because I don’t have eyes,
I hide behind mirrored glass because I’m scared of the world, Jonah.
I am terrified that maybe someone will understand me--
But I can't stop you, can I Jonah?’

Those words circled round and round in my head and heres what I did say:
I have eyes, Jonah, they’re blue.

In a dream I dreamed that I was Odin,
That I gouged out my eyes in exchange
For all the wisdom and understanding the world had to offer.
Jonah I have ******* holes for eyes,
Big empty spaces where every thing goes in and nothing comes out.
I have dark pools of disbelief and
Grown-up thoughts and
The pictures in my head have edges as if they were film
Instead of fog blurring edges with reality,
And all the caffeine coursing through my bloodstream
Cannot possibly give me the energy you have, Jonah.

Maybe I was Odin once, maybe I was a god--
But that was long ago and I grew up, jonah,
So, I don’t have eyes anymore,
But these blue-black-holes will watch you grow up,
And each year they will grow darker as you grow older,
Until finally I fade to nothing more than a name painted on a wall and
empty sunglasses staring out of the past--
Watching,
Wishing I had told you:
Don’t ever, ever give up your eyes, Jonah.
 Jun 2012 Ian
Daniel Kenneth
Butterfly, butterfly
Such a beautiful sight
I'm drawing all these butterflies
To save my own life
No more of the cutting
Nothing with the burns
I am done with tying nooses
My butterflies will save my world
Next page