Lumiere: Favorites

Dec 2012 Lumiere

For K.T.

Dec 2012 Lumiere

Benjamin Michael Dunham

For K.T.

As we pull away,
From the house,
Your mother's eyes, sheer pools of grey,
Foretelling a journey bound--
to chains of dismay,

As I pull away,
The cigarette from my lips
We cackle as if it is the end of days,
Chanting a ruckus sound,
To neighbors cross moonlit bay

As you pull away,
From our embrace,
I detect desiccated roots--that signify your decay
In an attempt to efface
Forgotten apologies

I pull away
Removed and frayed
What remains
Is a pile of ash
To be swept up in time by the wind

Dec 2012 Lumiere

Her

Dec 2012 Lumiere

J Drake

Her

What can I confess? I love her and that will never change.
I've tried. Nothing works. There is no way to push it out.
It will not be defeated. It is an unbeatable love. An immovable force.
It will not be controlled, it cannot be told where to go.
It simply is, and will never cease to be.

Rest cannot be obtained by mere sleep.
Refuge is a distant memory.
Your steps become nothing more than the distance between you and her.
Everything is her. Nothing is not about her.
Laughter is only a reminder of the type of innocent happiness you feel
When she's standing next to you.
Smiling faces are always a prelude to the glowing memory of hers.
No thought is had that isn't in some way connected to her.

The sun seems dim in comparison to the fire this love embodies.
It is otherworldly. It is unfathomable.
It is that brightness which cannot be perceived with the eyes or
Conceived in the body, but merely felt with the soul.
You see it more clearly through the amplification of tears,
Behind the cracks of the heart.

You work. You play. You sleep. You eat.
And nothing fulfills. Nothing satisfies the soul.

Your future is behind you.
And she stands there, grinning, waiting on you to remember her, reminding you to forget.

But I will not give up on her. It is not in me to let go of this love.

Our destiny is written in the stars. Our happy ending imprinted in my heart.

writings concerning the love of my life

Dec 2012 Lumiere

Touch me

Dec 2012 Lumiere

A Thomas Hawkins

Touch me

Touch me,
it doesn't matter where
and it doesnt matter how
I need to know I'm still alive
so someone touch me now
Shake my hand and say hello
or pat me on the back
kiss me on the cheek
that I may feel this sense I lack
slap my face and pull my hair
make me bleed I just don't care
dig your nails into my skin
so I can feed this need within
I've been numb for such a time
that even pain would be sublime
so touch me, touch me now
I don't care where, I don't care how

Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins

Dec 2012 Lumiere

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Dec 2012 Lumiere

Nicholas Harris

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Where almost nothing ever happens and the universe sits mostly still, where indie music is life and where photography is heaven. Where silence is golden and life is absolute. Where we all wish to be, and where only a select few of us can go and handle it.

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Where we lie in limbo, waiting for the sun to come up, the moon to go down, the median between life and whats left of the dark decay of lifelessness. Where Your eyes open wide, where your thoughts wander into the void of the infinite. Where we wait to see the beginning, the middle, and the end.

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Welcome to the dead, the living, the mourning, the crying, the sad, the happy, the over energetic, the under enthusiastic, the over enthusiastic, the insomniac, the insane, the beautiful, the quiet, the peaceful, the thoughtless and thoughtful, the kind, the caring, the listeners, the wonderful and magnificent, the open minded and wide eyed sleepless.

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Where we wander, searching for answers in our sleep. Where we wait for contact and a view into what we think is the future, and where here, we wait for the future. Where we sleep only to be dreaming of our answers we are searching for and never getting the full answer to questions like-
"Who am I?"
"What am I?"
"Who do I love?"
"Who loves me?"
"Why am I here?"
"What awaits me today?"
"Who thinks of me?"
"Who are my friends?"
"Who are my foes?"
"Who are the friendless?"
"Who am I to judge someone?"
"Who are they to judge me?"
"What is left for there to question if I already know the answers to my questions?"

This is what we ask, and wait for...

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Where our mindless infinite, grows! To be ever infinite into the oblivion of exaggerated proportions and ridiculous time! Where everything meets the beginning, the middle and the end. Where life dies, starts, and lives once more for us as humanity to enjoy through one more day, for us to catch our breath, and to breathe the dead and living. For our eyes to capture the very beauty of life through blinking as if our eyes where the lens to a camera and our brains the film to feed it.

All in one quiet, peaceful, beautiful, and insane, hour. Everything lives, dies, and starts over again.

Welcome to the beginning, the middle, and the end.
Welcome to 4 A.M.
Welcome to life.

Good morning.

Dec 2012 Lumiere

The Death of Seven

Dec 2012 Lumiere

Byongho Lee

The Death of Seven

In a maze of endless death
Every turn is love and war
Any wall can constrict any man’s sinful neck
Life leaving his heart’s cold core

A twisted, greedy man appears,
Seeing a tangled man with a lustful expression
His eyes see the treasure, gold and bright
And is caught within a poisonous suppression

A fierce woman soon approaches
Bitter and angry, her maw and claws sharp
Burning through the coils and gas
Falls to endless sleep with the help of a harp

A wistful child comes forth
Living in envy and through a disguise
Treads, like a thief, past the harp
To fall into the ground through his shadow’s demise

Five have failed and five faced death
So an animal consumes his way through the vines
Through the gas, harp, and trap
Only to die by it’s purposeless cries

Now a small ant rises
And slowly makes his way through the maze
He reaches a gate and opens the door
And sees a figure that brings endless raze

Who is left in this cold cruel world?
Who can become the seventh to the prize?
A god, a hot-headed braggart, reaches the gift
And loses faith through his guilt and his lies

Dec 2012 Lumiere

Early Morning Fantasy #1

Dec 2012 Lumiere

Cheyenne Majors

Early Morning Fantasy #1

i imagine
it's morning
that wonderful time
where you aren't really awake
but you know you aren't dreaming anymore
where everything's a bit blurred
and only the important things are
impeccably clear

i imagine
that on this morning
the blinds are closed or open
i can't tell
everything's a haze
the cat's probably asleep by our feet
the sheets might be orange
they might be red
but your eyes
they're crystal clear
that wonderful light green
so different from the seas of brown i'm used to
then that little smirk
that's always on your face
those lips
those collar bones

i imagine
that in this moment
the little infinity signs
i've traced a thousand times
are real
tattooed onto your chest
the smirk is only a smile
for me
those eyes are only crystal clear
because they're staring right into my eyes
and those lips are mine for the taking

i imagine
that this morning
is real
that is lasts forever
that it will happen one day
it's times like these
that i imagine
you're mine
all the ******* time.

Dec 2012 Lumiere

They ask me if I still love you.

Dec 2012 Lumiere

oh me oh my

They ask me if I still love you.

They ask me if I still love you.

I blush, grin and say;

of course.

Why?

Because your eyes are of the most utter ocean blue,

but other days they're the currents of the stormy grey sea.

I see a current of salty water, deep, once blue, but now a faded grey.

I see a bundle of darkened grey clouds in the distance,

and the thunder rumbles from your irises,

and I hear it pound in the back of my mind.

I wonder if you knew.

I see a spark of lightening flash, only once in a while,

while you look at her.

My throat corrodes with bile.

She says she sees green demons lurking in the depth of my own ocean currents,

and I shrug.

What am I supposed to say?

I know you think about her.

Night and day.

The hardest part,

is a generic, old saying.

If you love them,

you let them go.

If they love you enough to stay,

or to come back,

you never let go.

But you haven't come back.

EDIT: Wow. Never expected this to blow up as big as it did. I thank you all so much!
EDIT: 2/15/14
i would say i never loved you, but that is a lie.
they say that your *first* love makes *you realize*, your first *love* wasnt really your first.
i pray for the day this happens.
*getting over you was the best thing i ever did.
and i did it for myself.*
so, one last:
*******.
you.***
EDIT: 9/14/14
i still hate you.
and you don't deserve her.
EDIT: 12/01/14
im sorry. you still arent
the same person
and neither is she.
but we all grow up.

EDIT
10/14/20
I was going through my bookmarks
on my old computer and found my old writings.
I just wanted to update this one last time to say things are better,
things are good. Thanks again for all the likes and comments.

Dec 2012 Lumiere

Not about these and therefore, about these.

Dec 2012 Lumiere

Tom Orr

Not about these and therefore, about these.

Not about love or life.
Not about sun and snow.
Not about hate or politics.
What more ought we know.

Not philosophy, psychology or history.
Nor horror, adventure or mystery.
Whether on sea or land,
it will not stand
in the vast oak court of reality.