Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
She dresses up in moonbeams
For a feeling that she likes
Wears stardust as her makeup
Shines throughout the night
Saturn's rings hold her hair in place
As she shoots across the sky

The galaxy has not been the same
Since this solar breeze arrived

She comes on like a comet
A nova in disguise
Shear brilliance leaves you baffled
A wonder to the eyes
The girl who dresses up in moonbeams
Leaving trails across the night
Is sitting on the bench
while forever stretches
on the road dividing you
and her.
~Lacus Crystalthorn 2013
Never ask a girl if she likes you or not.
Make her fall in love.
I found myself in a record shop
Which got me all to wondering
How these bands all got their names
And wouldn't it be summon

If I went through all the racks
And pulled them randomly
What it is that I would find
To solve this mystery

When this idea hit me
I was standing before the M's
So based upon that simple fact
Is where this journey begins

Mega Death-You must be kidding!
Are theses guys for real?
How big a death do you have to die
Before your still road ****

I decided to jump around
To get the full effect
Can not help but wonder
At what will pop up next

Oh, lookie here...**** Hole Suffers
I bet their momma's proud
When those guys hang ten
Are they surfing in or surfing out

I came across Badfinger
In an old 70's record bin
I'm telling you the honest truth
I don't care to know where that fingers been

Over yonder a band called The, The
The, The...What?!
Then there's Chumbawamba
Chumbawamba...Whoba?!
This may all sound a bit far fetched
But it's the honest to goodness truthba!

The H's are holding Hoobastank
The closest I can figure
Is that the guys in this band
Hang out with Badfinger

Albino Toilet Boys
Cottage Cheese From The Lips Of Death
My Dog Has Hitlers Brains
Norman Bates And The Shower Heads

Poultry In Motion
Brady Bunch Lawn Mower Massacre
Roid Rodgers And The Whirling **** Cherries
Are today's record shop de jour

As I'm leaving out the door
Arms piled high with newly purchased song
I grab the last copy of Yoko ****
For soothing dinner music later on
All these are true band names...
If you can believe that!
i sometimes wonder...

at the rhythm of the rain
the fever just beneath the skin

the shimmer of the morning dew
the feeling i get with you

where are unused teardrops stored
why are the lonely so often ignored

do flowers feel love or pain
when they're cut and given away

i wonder...

why love makes the moon so bright
where the day goes when it's chased by the night

why some people feel the need
to sit and watch their lover bleed

if the world stopped how many would want to get off
if the day is over is it forever lost

would you want to bring it back again
but only the parts that you could win

i wonder...

do babies know they fill a need
a mothers heart gladly receives

how two hearts meld into one
when you find the right one to love

could a fish swim the seven seas
how long must you wait for a bended knee

can all in life that you take to the heart
change the outcome of who you are

i wonder...

why i miss love the way i do
why are thoughts unsaid most often true

why does the heart feel a need for change
when there's the slightest bit of rain

could love be given in return
if that love was never earned

if there was no mercy, love, or grace
what would take its place

a few things that i wonder about
i only wish i could figure out
as i sit and wonder...
 Apr 2013 Laura Susan Smith
Savio
Stumbling through the streets of Mexico
Savio
At the ripe age of 20
Life
Dancing nudely in front of his jewel eyes
It is 3am
and the latino barking k-9's are loud
loud and beautiful
like thinking you were dead
but you are woken by a train
and you touch the bridge of your nose
you touch the cheekbones
beneath your face
and you sigh in relief
that you are not dead:
The leaves are green
The grass too
Poison Ivy and Dandelions
Strawberries

Savio
Stumbling through Mexico
Wearing an old ***** flannel
a few buttons missing
Examining the streets
for cigarette butts
To unravel
To squeeze the brown tobacco
into his palm
for later
when he has the chance
the consciousness to buy rolling papers

Savio
bottle of cheap whiskey in his back pocket
holding an imaginary rifle
firing at the pigeons
at Cadillacs
that care freed on by

He had been at a bar
He was born in a Hospital
He liked to drink on top of buildings
He has a father who is dead

Savio
Stopping at a church that smelled of coffee
Music played
It was soft
Sad
Like a woman kissing you good-bye
Yet you try to recall the feeling of her lips
and cannot
He leaned his dark curly hair against the bricks that vibrated smoothly
from the violins
from the piano that over took the room
That washed away the hardwood floor
That tapped Death on the shoulder
That stopped the rain
That made you stand still
to make sure
you are not dead
And the Violin wakes you up
and it is Fall
Now Winter
Now you are with your mother
Now you are
Old
and you look around and notice that
The music has stopped playing
and the Trees
look a little wet
look a little
smaller
than they used to be

Savio
Woke up to his whiskey bottle shattering underneath him
Saw the Sun
Saw that the Church was empty
Saw that the door was open
Saw that
He was hungry
Thirsty

Inside there was nothing
Not even a Cross
Not even an Alter
Nor a candle
did flicker

There was nothing on the walls
The stained glass windows were covered by sheets of metal
The hardwood floor
sank a little
He walked to the back room
An empty room
Not even a window

So he slept
and did not dream
His father taught him that Sleep Dreams were useless
when Savio woke
it was cold
Everything seemed very still
The walls holding their breaths
The Ceiling calm
The hardwood floor quiet not creaking

He opened the front doors
to see that it was Night
and that there were no Headlights
no Taillights
So he stumbled to the liquor store
Holding a Blue Notebook
That he used to
Write down the dreams he wanted to have
The Dreams
he was not allowed to have

At the liquor store
he bought wine
walked back to the abandoned church
and read to himself a dream he never had
but would like to have:
“I am home, a child, sitting or standing at a stream, it is warm, I am alone, but I am at home, Yet, I know that I will not be at this stream for ever.”

He closed his blue notebook
looking up he saw that the church was lit up
and music was
falling out of it
seeping through the wood like sap
The smell of coffee
the smell of cooking meat

Yet when he opens the door
it is empty
it is gray
it is tinted sad
And his father is there
peeling off the sheets of metal covering the stained glass

And Savio wakes up
Turns to his Blue Notebook.
Just thinking
of nothing really.
Just of how fog
can lay over grass
Correspondingly
and some things on earth
aren't even possible.
Like the fact that I can't even go
anywhere without thinking
of nothing really.
just of how you
correspond with me
 Apr 2013 Laura Susan Smith
amt
I let somebody know,
But they weren't who they're supposed to be.
So now you can't ever get close to me.
I'll push you away.
Next page