Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Mar 2013 Kelly Landis
Samuel
Warm water softly rinsed away all fragility

  a future, open, a fresh scent
    
       You were there when I awoke
             and I always remember

               the shades of light this world allows
                   only when we're together
(I'm sure you need to like someone a lot to write this about them.)
High eyes don't lie
that's why I look in the mirror
when I smoke
I can see the truth in every
cough and choke
I tell myself all the bad things I've done
in the past week
"Snorted coke, had more spliffs than I can remember
between my teeth,
stole a little bit of food to eat, and started selling."
Then I start trembling
flashes of Eddie in the hospital wing with tubes
to keep him breathing, the service, his grandpa grieving,
mom being pushed, dad leaving,
razor blade in palm, ****** but calm,
powders, pills, plants.

Back in the mirror
the trembles disappear
it became clear I was the only one
who I could trust and spill to.
Thanks self, for being a
real dude.
© Daniel Magner 2013
An intensity of a thought, and the intimacy of feeling produce the sound,
The announcement, immediate and incomplete, but monumental -
The outpour of falling words, running from my mouth like water droplets from the clouds…
A leap towards faith and freedom, towards the excitement of uncertainty -
Experiencing a brief moment of weightless resilience,
Strong, proud and fearless…
Fiercely crashing into their destination without restraint,
Saturating the contents,
          Slowly falling, seeping down further –
                                                               ­             Layer…
                                             ­                                                       Upon layer…
Hopefully finding welcome,
                                  Hopefully finding reciprocation.


It starts with an intensity of a thought, and the intimacy of feeling to produce the sound...
I hope I have depicted this moment well enough for understanding... This is always a scary moment. To be certain about how you feel, and the wonder if they feel the same...
 Feb 2013 Kelly Landis
fdg
I try.
 Feb 2013 Kelly Landis
fdg
I try to open my mouth,
letters bouncing around my tongue and teeth so they can form the perfect words.
I try to save my perfect words
for perfect moments
and perfect people,
but when my perfect time comes,
the universe is quick to remind me
that I am most certainly not perfect.
You see, I try to make myself believe that I can form a hurricane from my mouth,
that I can stand and stomp
and force waves to crash along the shore so you can hear the ocean...
As if I could be as intense as a hurricane
or as precious as a seashell that you hold against your ear.
I try to make myself believe that I could be the covers that keep you warm at night,
the blanket you hold tight against your skin
when ice is forming at your window
and the heater isn't on again because the bill is so **** high.
I try to make myself believe that I could be a photograph you keep in a shoe box,
the kind of photo you've hidden from the world,
not because it's bad,
but because it's this beautiful secret
and you want to keep it all to yourself.
It's always there to look at on dark nights,
this picture of a girl you used to know.
This picture is all you have left of her.
A photo that makes you so happy you cry,
but then you realize they are not just tears of joy,
because although it is too hard to admit sometimes,
you miss your past
you miss how everything was supposed to work out
and how you used to be king of the playground
but now you are just king of a one-bedroom apartment with a toilet that doesn't always flush.
I try to make myself believe that I could be hope.
I could be what makes you say,
"Hey,
this really isn't so bad."
...These words that I spit onto the floor will stick to your shoes when you get up to walk away,
and maybe they will stay there.
You will walk with them all across town-
step on gas pedals, stomp on ants.
I can believe my words belong on shoes,
side notes
blueprints
in unimportant categorizations that your mind will cast off as history and erase in your sleep.
I can believe that my words are like the paper airplanes I strung to my ceiling-  
Most of the time I don't even remember they exist...
but every once in a while,

I look up.
writing this kept me awake last night and I hope you made it through the terribly long thing..
 Feb 2013 Kelly Landis
Tim Knight
Scribbled in a pre-*** haste
of hormones and awful
music taste,
your name on the back of a receipt
is no way to treat
a one night stand
that you met at the bar;
held hands with in the street;
and subsequently left when
the night became light and neat,
tidied up in a 10am alarm clock
call.

Could’ve waited until
we were both awake,
that way the alcohol would’ve warn off
and we could take this major issue
for what it was-
excitement;
and much anticipation; and placing into
action every lesson learnt from Nick Hornby books,
or pieces of information tucked
deep within our internet bookmark lists.

At least stay until after
Desert Island Discs
next time,
because then buses shall be running
on time, and you won’t have to risk
the public transport roulette table
that spins around this town,
this great noun in the Anglia east.

Now it's the news, and the news
is you've gone.  For a moment
I slipped back into a sleepy cement,
making for rough fingers-
that last night made the ascent
up to warmer climates.

And now back to lonelier nights
and Nick Hornby books,
afternoon wake-up calls
from Mum, back home,
asking how to download
the latest Google Chrome.
coffeeshoppoems.com
Poetry submission welcome
 Feb 2013 Kelly Landis
Z
"i don't like eye contact",
you told me,
somewhere around the very first time we talked.
"what are you afraid of?" i asked you,
because that was my first thought.
you never really answered,
and i never really pushed you too,
but now..i wish i had.
i wish i had asked,
again and again,
the who,
the why,
the what,
the where,
the how.
but, i never did.
and maybe that was my first mistake.
Next page