Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2020 · 165
vivian cloudy Oct 2020
sigh of ***
like melted wax
laying in bed
same pool of death
when the light
gets through
and touches us
vivian cloudy Mar 2020
i watch the water
beam from the sun
and that is what you call
making love

the earth is the greatest poet i know
in her feathery grasses
i picnic with my soul

near the root
where the insects
feed on the sap drips
of a colossal tree
once a small seed
now dripping thousands
to the floor
she says

don't you know
you have more
to grow and to

she sang me like
a ballad
i am a lover reclaimed
Feb 2020 · 118
I am brave!
vivian cloudy Feb 2020
I am brave
Because I give a ****!
Sep 2019 · 331
The Abyssal Zone
vivian cloudy Sep 2019
I used to be as bitter as the wood
waiting to catch fire and
I looked forward to a good cry
at night
But mornings were good for me
I woke up thinking like maybe
I had mastered what it’s like to be alone
Maybe I had mastered what it’s like to
fill up a room
of silence
with just my breath
My spirit starts to get cocky
at how it's learned the rhythm
of a stone
rippling through the water
about to head home
sinking like some
deep sea creature
allowed to live
in the abyssal zone
20,000 feet deep in
nothing but my own
unshakable core
Jul 2019 · 202
Ode to ThirdSpace
vivian cloudy Jul 2019
I cannot thank you enough for the days
where I had a pool of words
I did not know where to place
And if it wasn’t for this microphone
carrying the weight of my day
I would only be the tune
that a hammer makes against the wall

where no matter how dull
the day wrung me, this stage
somehow made canvas out of
my face, and I could go home
and sleep knowing that maybe
I can inspire love when you look at me

Where a tequila with orange juice is only $5
Where the bartender made sure I didn’t drink too much
Where dance music has a conscious
Where an amethyst stone spoke my name
Where the painters aren’t afraid to use their guts as a brush
Where a poet has an audience

Where our existence is reassured

And what else could an artist
possibly want more
when that is what we question
all of the time
I read my poetry at ThirdSpace for ArtNight in Phoenix, but the venue was bought out and it will no longer be. I felt it in my heart to write an ode for this space and what my time there meant to me.
Jun 2019 · 741
Happy Birthday
vivian cloudy Jun 2019
We learn to make
better friends
with bigger numbers
and less time
It is now
that we
the magic
of the seasons
when they
and change
And like the berries
that one day
get picked
no one can steal
the spring
that turned us
and red
I wrote my friend a poem for her bday cuz it’s just what I do.
Apr 2019 · 2.3k
If insomnia were a bicycle
vivian cloudy Apr 2019
If insomnia were a bicycle, I’d ride it
As I watch my yawn open eye
Wide awake I’d smell the roses
trace their spikes and wear their lipstick
And excuse me if the dreamers can’t smell it
A fever akin to a violin’s soundest
Cutting right through 4AM
with a blade of flicker
With an undestined dim...

I’d ride past the bus stop I walk to everyday
Hang my black coat and never claim it again
I’d ride to the point where I’d make it to work on time
But my boss to never see my face again
And if the hour hand were any slower
I swear…

I’d finally meet you
And when I do finally come to see you
our glass cages will then shatter

Out of the wreckage, a new kind of disaster

A happy one
but I’d have to warn you

I don’t have time for greeting cards
Or flat moons beaming dial tones
Because I am the type of girl
to eat my fruit with my eyes closed
And in this perpetual childhood
I am my own mother in a rocking chair
Back and forth
Am I almost there
If insomnia were a bicycle, I’d ride it
Straight into the sunset, I’d watch the sunrise
Feb 2019 · 1.6k
Cry after climax
vivian cloudy Feb 2019
Like the V shaped pattern
of wake lines
behind a boat
the angle
between us
has stretched out far
The two arms of a chevron
have been forced
to let go
and I dream of the vertex
all of the time
When you are not the woman
of anyone’s dreams
Fridays become best
for cleaning
and folding
from three months ago
They become best
for dreaming
of serving
a man’s conscience
in bed for breakfast
It is the type of silence
that has carved the ******
back into my body
It’s left the fingers
for what stifles
the neck
I comfort
my *******
pressing hard
on the button
below the belly
Until I am a sour fox
without blood
And what good is that rug
than to wipe your feet on
I’m dead and
like a rocking chair
in my bed
And for the love of god,
I cannot soothe
the cry after I
finding it difficult to “enjoy” myself
Mar 2018 · 2.3k
A Bird and a Gun
vivian cloudy Mar 2018
You cannot sow leaves back to a tree
Unpluck the feathers of a duck
When words begin to rot the tongue
those words cannot be swallowed back
And this is the silence between us
And this is why there will be no nest
Because this is the relationship
between a bird and a gun
And I will not be hung by the feet again
You cannot put this thunder in a jar
expecting the rain clouds to pour out to this garden,
this sick and yellow turf I keep protecting
like a woman carved into a scarecrow
And this is the distance between us
And this is how the bullet is missed
Because this is the sound of my heart pounding
like someone at the door,
I run to answer it— never again to you
don’t be with jerks.
Dec 2017 · 1.2k
Keep me kind
vivian cloudy Dec 2017
Please god
don’t let my heart
become unkind
A soul in black
can absorb
the light
But I’m afraid
to tire out
from giving out
and not getting back
To confuse the black
as all forgotten
If I could wear it black
and still be kind
Don’t let it be
my wish
to harden
For the sake
of my self-
If I could find
the room
in the absence
Don’t let my heart
become unkind
And let your greatest gift
become my lesson
of how
the darkness
all light
Nov 2017 · 1.3k
vivian cloudy Nov 2017
I went Christmas decoration shopping with a friend the other day

I couldn’t decide on a tree
Or any type of ribbon
I don’t have the space for it
But I wanted the spirit

We went to a different store
The pressure was on
My friend was waiting for me to pick something
After all this was my idea

There were a bunch of nutcrackers on display
Soldiers of giant wooden jaws
And glittered capes
Some of light and dark skin

I stared at one enough until I liked it
It had a chip on its nose
My friend quickly found another like it
It was normal, no chip

I looked at both
I took the one with the chipped nose home

Later in the night
The day ran through me
Like a movie

With no sound
No plot
No pulse
Just movement
No lips
No tongue
My face broken
I bared no teeth to
Ward off such bad spirits

Another day where time
Had no currency
I had so much of it
But it was buying me nothing

Just a feeble, muted sentinel
Of impossible peace
How do dreams come alive
when the duel is against me
Aug 2017 · 2.4k
vivian cloudy Aug 2017
I have been
on this rubberband for days

I keep pulling
and stretching it

I quickly release it
until I hear it

It hit me quite hard
up against my wrist

The minutes and seconds
are raking again
The strands of my hair
on the ground

I feel

Or even worse


Like a shallow river
in the street
After several days of rainfall
I'm an overbanking creek

I flood the town

As if I were the ocean but
there was never
any depth
There was never
any substance
to this interest

Because I
Never felt important

And so I lie flat
on my bed
Until I let

Do open heart surgery
It makes a mess of me

And then it stitches me up

Necessity has the teeth of a dog

But I let it burn through
And in my own dissonance
I mother significance

Swarming out of my chest
Until the rubberband breaks
Apr 2017 · 1.2k
I let him keep his fingers
vivian cloudy Apr 2017
He was a man
A lizard
The one that crawls out of its skin
Camouflaging ‘till it’s sweating the rocks

Keen on what it wants, what it feels
That very moment
Is all that matters, all that fills

His fibs
were a well-tailored fit
But he bit his own head off too often
and stood empty

Like a wishing well
or an abyss,
The pit in which I threw my dreams in
But he couldn’t fit the sentiment

Wishes were demands that bared the skeleton
Their little mouths crunching
and talking to him
He calcified his judgement to acquit the fugitive

And he blowtorched my size, my wit
Until he could no longer
speak of it
or enjoy it

I had been burning for days
Up until the day he palpated the shame
Of the impulse, of the way
a man could perfect his death

Behind the mountain of skin, undressed
the tongue was hissing in his pit
I sat him on the chair, roped to one question
Why did you do it

And if guilt is the sharpest
tool to deface him,
the man
couldn’t look at me

A mallard too limp to admit
his interests were monotypic,
only equipped
to fit his own ****

I should have de-plucked it
Drained and throat-hung it
For the many nights
I made love to a liar

But, I let him keep all of his fingers
so the man
may continue
******* himself
Apr 2017 · 1.1k
Mass Destruction
vivian cloudy Apr 2017
To the people of the world,
you bags of stainless steel,
brooding slabs of flesh,
dented and fresh
I do not mean this
in the negative of my feel,
But I quit

I quit!
I quit!
I quit!
And I don’t feel bad about it

For I’ve already let
the barbwire of the ****
wrap around my neck
and it made me sick,
it made me sick
Until I finally

And oh my stupid god
what a relief
to be a socket!
where electricity just does not exist

I plant myself to this wall
as I watch the bodies rack up
with the most beautiful of light
knowing that mine
has rocked down
to pitch-black

Those battles I had left to fight
are wars I'm no longer interested in

Because to spend another second
digging through this military kit

of firearms I point behind your back
of gas attacks I spit to make you gag
of hot bombs I drop to cop a laugh
is the longest death of my life

I find my health stepping down to this fight
Claim all the lives you want
but today I claim mine

Mar 2017 · 4.7k
Man Everest
vivian cloudy Mar 2017
right in front of me
but out of reach

tests upon tests
you teach me

i’m weary
but i keep chasing
and i just don’t know
if i can reach the top

collecting pieces
of facts like rags
i shape opinions,
secrets map

trust impasse.

i may never know
the mountain shade
unearthed in doubt
from years of pain

but for it all
i love you more
you teach me

and i’ll plant my flag
and print my foot
drag my wooden,
peg-legged soul

lose my voice,
foretell my wake
altitudes high
and immense

please believe
what i can see
let me teach you

everest man
i am

as you hide the sun
behind your back
as you hide the sun
away from me
Mar 2017 · 1.7k
vivian cloudy Mar 2017
i read like a thermostat
i feel cold shrill of eyes
hot blisters of souls

i’ve seen aplenty

fully literate to the hunger
inside denim of men
with twenty tongues

pulling their weight
like untrained dogs

they lick my face to a swell

heating and cooling
my metals expand
silvers contracting

but I can very much tell

who is ready
who is not

some do
some talk

if you'd like
to open me wide like a mouth,
be mean with your smile

to get my thaws down to feet,
**** fire to the wind

with the door
wide open


i’m very keen on intense
i salute a heavy gut
and the confidence of a mutt

an appetite

and if I’m truly your win,
the thermostat
out of the wall

get the wires all bent
and with violence


completely illiterate
i don’t want to think
Mar 2017 · 3.1k
vivian cloudy Mar 2017
met a man once
and he took me to a steakhouse
the type where tuxedo men come back
with a twee bite-sized piece of meat on a plate
he ordered my steak for me
and though it glistened
the slab barely satisfied
the crack in my teeth
i was starving
and he kept talking about
business deals
and networking
to the type of cars that make him hard
which one of these thousand ******* forks
is best to stab?
making friends
with a bunch of pruned men
chatting business
he introduced me
she speaks Spanish
how exotic
raw and juicy
sure does go well with potatoes
i started ordering loads of wine
when they all agreed that it was time
to make America great again
i downed even more down my throat
‘till I was seeing spuds in Versace
drinks for everyone!
we ordered like five bottles
so drunk
that I started mooing
but if this gasbag ever hopes to get laid
he’ll need to go to the slaughterhouse for that
meanwhile, let the bartender do the milking
Mar 2017 · 1.3k
vivian cloudy Mar 2017
Strands and strands of my hair
On the ground
I’m twisting, I’m balding
I watch the minutes and seconds rake

Strands and strands of my hair
From the time
I stayed put on the ground
But a **** of cutting wood remains

Widening and splitting
Deep in my body

I see me now
I’m loud

After many years, a small seed
Under earth, a lost child
I was never this loud
But I can hear me now

The moan of these branches
wrap around me like wires
My weary throat
tightening, tightening
with nothing to show

From a tongue in its comfort
Long impaired in the silence
Hushed, hushed
till I blacked myself out

And now my roots rip
above land
like desperate hands
now that I must
get ready to leave

And the minutes and seconds,
won't wait for me

I cannot sow leaves
back to a tree

Take my name plate
To the farthest of gates

It is too late
It is too late

*We must now
Feb 2017 · 2.0k
vivian cloudy Feb 2017
I look inside my skeleton
Love-hate bulging
eyes out of my face
Two warts of ambivalence

I want to hug my skeleton
Heart twitching in a rib-cage
Admire the asymmetry
of every piece broken

Dear beautiful skeleton
In veins runs the river
In a stream of excitement
I flood in disappointment

I talk to my skeleton
I tell it that I love it
Rub my head against it
Lungs violently sighing

I believe in you, skeleton
in the blood of your tongue
A kick in the stomach
Everything is working
Feb 2017 · 1.2k
The Man with a Shovel
vivian cloudy Feb 2017
I do not like it here
I do not like what we have.

Take the shovel,


Dig deep in the earth,
big capable man.

Plunge through that dirt
until you reach the other side.

as desert dust

the steps on me,

Plant in me
the rose

and garden
the romance.

Won't you
the dear
in my tongue

the clutch
of these arms

this face,

out of its casket
into a smile...

Take the shovel,

You’ve been cold too.
Your body is quivering


Dig deep in the earth,
big capable man.

Bring us both back
the last breathing rose.

But the man with the shovel
never came back...

I did hear he reached the other side.
Jan 2017 · 6.3k
The Greatest Poet
vivian cloudy Jan 2017
I watch the water
beam from the sun
and that is what you call
making love
The Earth is the greatest poet I know.
I pluck at her expression
every so often
merely attempting
to translate her lyrics
into something,
just something
we can all feel and understand
My salutes to you, Earth.
Jan 2017 · 719
vivian cloudy Jan 2017
He was on a pedestal
and his head fell off.
Like a heavy tomato
It rolled around the ground
underneath the table.
Chatty chat chats
of hungry spectators,
like the company of rats.
Nibble, nibble, nibble
Not a lot of salt in the scraps
for such a head so engorged.
Swelling and swelling
Swelling 'till bleeding
The rats really like it.
Making waves with his eyes
But no one could hear him
Crickety cricket
Until someone moved their foot
and kicked him.
Bam! Flying.
One day, he will land on the ground...
But good lord, did he miss his body
that could no longer hold him
On his pigeon-toed pedestal
where he felt much important
Jan 2017 · 884
vivian cloudy Jan 2017
Biggest, blackest vultures
perched above the headstones
Unbending sin collectors
sipping through the nectar

Ripping through the silver
Leave but ashes, purple
Bruises hot and breathing
unfeathered throats, excited

Talons drop like fountains
beaming bright and red as blood
Penny wishes sinking
under oath and God above

The meal is hot and ready
Can only vultures stomach

the melted shouts of children

the deadened eyes of mothers

the headless walking fathers

Biggest, blackest vultures
elegant as navy
Irony collectors
clean of human peeling

Of napkin trees, a shading
Their beaks are white and shining
Underneath the highest flag
of their tender country
Happy inauguration day.
Dec 2016 · 3.6k
If Insomnia were a Bicycle
vivian cloudy Dec 2016
If insomnia were a bicycle, I’d ride it
As I watch my yawn open eye
Wide awake I’d smell the roses
trace their spikes and wear their lipstick
And pardon me if dreamers can’t smell it
A fever akin to a violin’s soundest
Cutting right through 4AM
with a blade of flicker and undestined dim
I’d ride past the bus stop I walk to everyday
Hang my black coat and never claim it again
Ride past the point where I’d make it to work on time
But my boss to never see my face again
And if the hour hand were any slower
I swear…

I’d finally meet you
And when I do finally see you
our glass cages will then shatter

Out of the wreckage, a new kind of disaster

A happy one
but I’d have to warn you

I don’t have time for greeting cards
There are no lungs in paper
Life is
a box of limbs
And that,
I would open
And you bet!
That, I’d claim
If insomnia were a bicycle, I’d ride it
Straight into the sunset, I’d watch the sunrise
Dec 2016 · 1.2k
Drunk and Happy
vivian cloudy Dec 2016
I'm drunk and I'm happy
So drunk!
So happy!
I'm drunk
I'm drunk
I'm drunk, but I'm happy!

I'm drunk and I'm happy
So drunk!
So happy!
My happy
My happy
My happy is drunk...

My happy
My happy
My happy is drunk...
Wine, *****, wine, *****...yay :/
Dec 2016 · 1.9k
Litter and Water
vivian cloudy Dec 2016
In the water
in the ocean
and in the sea
the litter that
knits together
in the corner
from the body
And while it surfaces
within the water
in the ocean
and in the sea
Litter never
rides with waves
for in our
rightful states
we ever
Dec 2016 · 627
vivian cloudy Dec 2016
I’m not making it easy
and you know,
for once I’d like to be free
instead of standing here
letting you pick
through my neck
Maiming the base
to the decision
I'm about to make

I stood sturdy like a scarecrow
You picked me strand by strand
left me arid of any features
stuffed yourself in my straws

Coming around
like this is where you wanted to be
And so then I
let you build your nest on me                                      

But oh you wild bird,
you always flew away

In fields of green
I stood a wretch
And it wasn’t until dawn
arrived again
that I could hear your
haw caw caws in their mocking tone

Didn't have to soar with you to know
The stench the wind rolled up is enough

So, I renounce this broom shank
and broken stave for bones
Dislodge from this one peg foot
and slam it into the grave

Fly away, you stupid bird
Build your nest on someone else
This scarecrow of a woman
is past her season
peace ******!
Dec 2016 · 690
vivian cloudy Dec 2016
Mom, I wish I could stay home with you today and drink Folgers instant coffee. Maybe watch some of those cheesy morning shows in Spanish with you.

I know you think I’m happy but at the same time I know you worry. I come to see you and you tell me my smile is less squinty and you are suspicious as to why in the world I would ever watch cheesy morning shows in Spanish with you.

The truth is mom, I rather taste the tasteless because what is real is too hard to gulp. And the hate that is ever looming is consuming; hate gnawing at the flesh of tenderness and glee to the backbone.

Because the world princess you thought spoke into a microphone now wears a mouthpiece and no one knows who she is. Because the fearless combatant you fostered has been gutted and she lies dead and cold on a table like a fish.

And Mom, tomorrow there will be a man sitting on a tiny speck of a chair in a colossal office. In his cut-throat world, he will cry my name and I must go into this dreaded dome. The back of his chair will face me for a minute, but then the chair will turn and with a stare so acidic, he will cut throat.

The female filleting begins as he lines us up to our destined limp. His ego well- fed by belittled spirits, you will see how quickly the pin-bones pile up. But they all bow down to the butcher, mom. “Oh he’s not so bad after all” they will say. A menace so kind, as the menace manipulates. The fishmonger back in business again.

He’s just a man gutting fish. But he’s a man with a wish. A wish to be  God. Bleached in the blah. Blissed in the blah!  Can we just watch TV and drink coffee?
Dec 2016 · 523
Savior Complexity
vivian cloudy Dec 2016
Your darkness
I use for paint
I'm an artist
I sketch a fate
Dip my brush
Oh complexity,
the type of hue
that excites me
Watch me mold
as I please
Wash your feet
I get you clean
Drain the rag
I watch it bleed
Oh, dysfunction
Oh, sympathy
Stand by me
I’ll carve your path
Snip the tail
Rid the mask
Make me proud
Please rise
Dead man, give me life!
Devil skin
I patch and salt
Stain a smile
Yet by default
A rotted meat
is heart and soul
And at my feet
your monster thirst
Bad boys, bad boys / Whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do / When they come for you…

— The End —