anamelesspoet* · 16 hours ago
The Weary World Traveler
Byron did blush at the faceless one's amour
Strange feeling he'd never experienced before
On the cloud blackened night by the shore
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Lonely and Naked ·  20 hours ago
The Light Sings A Name Majestic
                                                          You're The Light,A Name Sang Majestic
                                                             I Was The Life That You Had Ingested
                                                              This Was A Love Never To Be Tested
                                                                            Continue reading...

sweet princess · 9 hours ago
love and other hugs
i am so alone my bed misses you tonight
oh sweetie i love you - do you love me tonight
i want to look into your blue ocean eyes again tonight
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Daniel.M.Molasses · 19 hours ago
A story as old as thyme
A Kid signing language to his mother's despair
the way moonlight frittered throughout the air
A lost cat prowling to and fro by the gas lamp
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She sat and watched the translucent orange leaf fall
and with it every aspiration of her ego
She noted the way the dull morning sun shone through it
  
Ego and leaf alike

Her house is a happy one
Sisters smile
baking cakes when autumn appears
Brothers smile
when furtive grass rises in the spring
Her life is a happy one

She sat and watched the fire burn
cutting her own hair
and whistling

Her song was happy too, as the dwindling dream faded and the afternoon moon shied away
fears once ever present now vapour on crisp dewy winter evening breezes


He sat and watched her trace faces in the air
with a delicate finger
And he drew her face in his mind with ease

His self collapsing

His house is a happy one
Father smile
playing raucous games in the summer epoch
Mother smile
huddled with baby on winter snapshot days
His life is a happy one

His words were happy too, as he scribbled on ragged notepads whilst the wind blew
and so many newspapers broke free from the vendor by the statue


(Though they can't shake that one impression
of the world dematerialising before them
and the prolonging of time
in the interim ghost world
of lost memories
and sadness
on DMT)


I saw them rise on a January morning, lights cascading over treetops
Flittering life and love combined in sun-drenched washed out skies
watching them floating so high
and their smiles were new stars
a transcendent tenderness
that I was in awe of
and still am

Repressed sadness manipulated into shapes
when they made love in the sky
Every bleak memory of their time dissipated
and the cityscape below began to bloom
All industry halted, a million stood and watched
as new life radiated around them

Convoluted linear time was now disrupted
All events in history, happened simultaneously
The birth and death of a cosmos
Captured in a kiss

I first saw you walking down the street
I don’t know when you first saw me
maybe at home
in the mirror of your memory
maybe in the pages of the book
you were reading outside in the winter
at that cafe
You had me all smiles
and I had you
all similes
a pretty little thing
to stroke my pretty little thing against
You in your fashionista bombshell outfit
me in my childlike excitement
as I walked on past
and I wonder
if later that night
you were in your bedroom
which is just as messy as mine
I wonder if you thought to yourself
“well hot ****, that was one hot ****** guy”
if not that’s fine
my words are subjectively an object of your subject
Does that make sense?
I seem to do that a lot
rambling over myself and over myself
as if you caught me in a lie
I hadn’t yet told
I hold on to the belief
that You caught me in the corner of your eye
and decided to save me for later
It’s the only thing us passing strangers
have really got

Let’s go trainspotting
or did I mean train hopping?
we’ll pick apples from the trees
out back under dark night skies
when nobody is watching
and we’ll drink water from gas station bathrooms
and coca cola from the glass bottle
Do you think
that before the cell phone towers were erected
people ever sent drunk letters?
Natives on Ayahuasca sending smoke signals
which say heyy!
I was thinking about you
and in the morning do you think they check the embers
and go oh ****
what did I do last night?
the chief is going to give me so much ****
the thing is
the things I say to you
with something in my system
are truer than all of the well calculated
across the room stares and smiles
and at night
while I stand lookout
while you pick apples
maybe I’ll drink some apple cider
and send you a drunk conversation
but when I’m with you
It’s like I’m drunk on puppy love
so you can believe
every text I send you

SANCTUARY
Remember the harsh winter beach?
Where days of summer succulence once did reach.
Now forlorn, carried away on primordial storm.
Masses of shingle inter-mingle with piles of sodden sand.
Oscillating waves tickle toes of summer now in suspension.
Caught on windswept winter’s current termination.

Seas’ slimy hair washed up on the shoreline.
Now lingering lonely.
Awaiting her great escape.
Another wild ride on the tide.
When the next storms awaken the spring.


By ladylivvi1

© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

In nature, as in civilised homes, there is evidence of conformity
      That only significant study would make apparent,
      but his studies were suspicious and neighbours would talk

The nose is bleeding and his pretty song is skipping
on the jukebox by the bathroom door
Anhedonia now is constant, the pathos inherent
As their mother went missing years ago
While they read Proust by the window,
and the day was drawing closed
Their father was sick with Absinthe shakes
whilst little duck starved in the pond behind the house

On disagreeable days,
profound introspection
becomes not more than
subversive ******-babble
and the words he speaks
are dust on the tongue
a bother and little more

Purported to be perpetually depressed, his cool demeanor left an impression
on his sister, as she would gaze upwards at his face, displaying world-weariness
So Weltschmerz they called him and his cool was palpable
but only her smile could bring colour to his fa-

what did i get myself to?

Four letter word and dime and a nickel and a quarter of your time
to a bliss passing by 595
your breathing and chest sinking
your lips calm and keeping ,upon the hours
of a dosing night a lasting high
your front teeth milky white meets my frosty space
the diving hips
a collar trips
man i feel you pull through and it isn't enough to call me some coward
some dancing ***** hanging on to your very lips
you said maybe is there a way
i said nah yoo i ain't raised for that
i am a forty five pound lean launching machine
from outer space to your living set
and busy strutting with vowels and annunciations since i got the power
for the heys and nays
i got the power
i got the power so it
ain't easy to unfold and what hasn't been told before
i ain't some player, goldie lock mean hater
prestigious for the one word betrayers cause it is out bend and crying doesn't work anymore
i got the breast knuckles to my chest and i say the fury of a quiet man is lethal
i am begging you to tell me you aren't danger.

you are a fool, Sophia. As I look up at these city lights, every neon sign seems to advertise you; they all remind me of what I'm missing out on. I pass strangers and hear them whispering your tender mercies: "so?" "fee" "ahhh..." I may be being quite forward so early on in our correspondences, but the theory that you are a scrap of paper that someone would allow to slip through their fingers is ridiculous to me. I say that because even after only meeting you once, by such a fortunate and faithful chance, I wanted to write screenplays, novellas, and entire manuscripts only based on how beautiful your name sounds when I say it. I will be absorbed in everything you admit me to learn about you. I only hope for your amusement when you discover my own scorched trails. I'm stupefied by your compliments, and I will catch every drop of your defrosting heart on my tongue. I felt so stupid but I beamed in pride seeing I could make you blush as pink as the roses on the bush behind you... such a delicate, feminine, sensitive color; white blossoming into red, purity blooming into passion. How I wish I could be the one to awaken a passion in you. I'm terribly sorry if I'm smothering, but you've an expert pen dipped in ink of naivety... in meeting you I crossed the border between respectable me and questionable sanity: the Sophia Line (your kiss would be turpentine, **** anything I used to be to become anything, everything you need from me). Ah... fee so... you've given me a lot to live up to. xo. Josephine.

And if the man from on high casts his eye upon you
you shall cower when faced with the reflection
A bird sits on a car side mirror
not alarmed by overwhelming footfalls
keeping rhythm with feet beneath desks to the universal drum track
white rabbit is peaking in the next room
while a scene of horror plays out
to be gossiped over intermission
you stand alone
in a small, dimly lit room
candle flame flickering against cream wall
ritual
your neighbors won't stop screaming into sofa cushions
as you laugh til it hurts on rerun avenue
go out and get after it kid
by this time tomorrow it'll be gone
whatever it is

On an L shaped couch on the eleventh floor
I spend these short days with my ghost, hosting tea-parties for silence
drinking espresso like a cure for hurt- I need a drug that's stronger than Love and bolder than Compliance-

-my brain has wrought violence upon itself as I tumble again and again into the abyss of affection, seeking the path but losing the direction. Perhaps when I called you, you detected the inflection of a woman who feels so absolutely that she can no longer discern...

and without careful reflection nobody can learn.

I was never good at playing for sport. I aim for hearts. Every day is Open Season, and my arrow will shoot true-
I'll be ****** if I cannot find something to love in you.

And I'm divided in two, no- a hundred and two, watching myselves like mirrors upon mirrors reflecting every motive, every spark, and every smudge that swings the pendulum from instinct to conscience. Showing the audience centre stage where the white knight swerves off-course to save any soul who's fallen off their horse.

Love will be the end of me.

Cupid, we need a divorce.