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 Dec 2013 onetwothree
Zachary
We have all loved skeletons at one point- maybe as lovers, a person with benefits, or a friend. Skeletons that looked just like us; zombies walking the same path, no longer caring for their way. Pieces of a soul that were so shattered no amount of band aids and peroxide could heal it

Your expressions that entranced not just I, but many past lovers. Ones that are not intended for me, but if I try hard enough, I imagine they are so

Your hands were delicately carved work, and your bones, your bones, the finely formed structure of intricate words, whispered in the dead of night to the crook of your neck

You overtook my thoughts; shadowed me in my sleep, molding my dreams to nightmares. All I can think is “would they like this?” or “that?”. You are a dictator with an iron fist on my heart of weathered steel. You are the reason I write; why I wrote until the crack of dawn when no other soul was awake except for the lonely and the in love

My nightmares and reality merge into one, until I do not know which is which, but I do know that wherever you are, I am searching for you in the deepest corners of my mind to find lost memories, waiting to create new ones

And I know that, despite our differences, you are buried deep into my skin, a fragrance that I cannot wash away with tomato juice no matter how much I match the sticky substance

The one beautiful thing I have not gotten bored of; the one person I have not walked away from. When you have an obsessive personality, which quickly turns to boredom, it is hard to find that one person who keeps you from that

You are the one beautiful thing I never regretted latching on to

But the minute I saw you, I knew I would not do the same, no matter how much I would want to. The second I saw you, I knew I wanted to be the one who was the first to see your face each morning, and the last at night. I knew I wanted to be the one to kiss your wrinkles between your brows away, to wipe your salted tears off your cheeks and wash them from your pillows; I knew that if I were to meet your family, I would say “Thank you for him. Thank you for this great person who not only brings light to my world, but is a sun to many others.”

I knew that despite all that, you would never be mine. For you see, you are a star, a planet bigger then the solar system that contains your tiny toy of a body, and I was simply orbiting you, pulling farther away with each passing day

You wield a weapon, dangling from your fingertips that no one sees, but you can feel inwardly, pushing deeper and deeper until it is so embedded I no longer feel it. You morph me between your nails like the water cuts through rocks and forms them into sand, leaving nothing but the past remains of centuries of wear and tear and pushing and pulling and-

You control every turn I take- “Do not walk out in front of that car” and “Do not push yourself so far down you cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel”

You are the reason I wake up each day, and vow to myself to survive, for if I survive today, one day I will live

I count the days until I will tell you; fearing each day that you will find someone who could love you better then I, a person who is not a whirlwind of emotions and hair and everything negative in the world but is beautiful and a doll and will become the grass on your core, melting the molten rock and oozing out on late nights when no one is home and not a soul is awake

And I cannot sleep knowing there will be someone who will love you better than I; cannot breath knowing there will be the doomsday of my heart, when it falls to pieces and is crushed like marrow with the same nails that molded me to be something I was not; cannot stay in one place as long as I know I have one in a million chance of winning you, a piece in the lottery that is greater then the reward; cannot scream for my lungs have given out, my throat has dried out and there are no more tears left to spill for a man who does not look at me twice

You are the first beautiful thing I have latched on to, and you will not be the last I will let go of
 Dec 2013 onetwothree
brooke
i'm finally
starting to
look up at
other faces
I was scared
to do it, as if
it were a crime
to put the visor
up and let the
sun see my
face.
(c) Brooke Otto 2013.

inch by inch.
 Dec 2013 onetwothree
st64
not yet
 Dec 2013 onetwothree
st64
fool-proof umbrella
covering protégé
adorning brilliance

no purple moments
folly forgotten
iniquity barred
fountain-pen spills
in lampblack Indian ink
when letting go
rose bush on fire
in the mountain
claims
rock-hard granite
heat melting
higher meeting..so fleeting

concluding well
deep
sans senses
catch scent
wrapped in sound
sudden arrival
rivers flow yet endless

such relief exquisite
still
not quite
fruition
not yet..

four leaves wait
count a quarter
at a time
yet fretless time
caught in veins
of
chlorophyll dreams

time to fill
maturation
to come..

to plant seeds
into blazing buds
just
not yet..



S T,  13 June  2013
I'm singing in the rain
I'm singing in the rain...

tra la la...

:)

thank heavens for photosynthesis

real good things take time to grow, to ripen...with sunshine, rain et al..

growing, growing, growing . . .
 Dec 2013 onetwothree
st64
over
 Dec 2013 onetwothree
st64
the ocean-floor in rainbow-lines
lilts over
                            heavy heat and surface-din


calm-vow under varied-waves
hums over
                       bustle of activity in *****


susurrous-bower on moving-sand
shades over
              clipped-voice in room




('I'd like to be in an octopus' garden.. under the sea..'      //




S T - 1 december 2013
sometimes, to be quiet and calm.. is best remedy, when seeking answers.

octopus' garden // excerpt from Beatles song




sub: chase

growl and rumble in feral-shakes
high-speed chase across hot terrain
and
can't find my feet
anymore)
 Dec 2013 onetwothree
st64
the date
 Dec 2013 onetwothree
st64
Ramirez waits on the couch
patiently
for the date of his life


1.
fidgety-fidgety boy
there's no call for nervous-smiles
her daddy gruffly placed you
on the couch
now, you wait and wait and wait


2.
you decide to use some bonus-airtime you received
but who to call?
the one you'd like to spend that time on .. is with your Maker
but you're too shy to talk to God
your Momma told you God's one busy-light
and he ain't got no time for a slow-coach like you
who can barely spell two words


3.
yes, I can spell my name.. *leave me alone
!
hey man, who says God won't talk to me?
why, I did Him a favour here.. I'm takin' out this here girl
who's never been out before
18 years old and her pappy been watching her so
she can barely make two sentences before her complexion vies with beet

it came to him in a dream.. take her out.. take out.. take her out..
and so, tonight.. he will



4.
Lord behold, where is our boy?
******, why did you not watch him?
what... and you believed him??
goodness, go out and find him....NOW!

he didn't take his stuff


5.
she descends slowly, as on a cloud
and smiles in awkward-bunches
oh, if only her father had let her go out before.. like everyone else

she may have been able to see..............................................................­





this is the date
and he
took her out







S T - 2 dec 13
just a silly piece..
 Dec 2013 onetwothree
Lisa Zaran
I went looking for God
but I found you instead.
Bad luck or destiny,
you decide.

Buried in the muck,
the soot of the city,
sorrow for an appetite,
devil on your left shoulder,
angel on your right.

You, with your thorny rhythms
and tragic, midnight melodies.

My heart never tried
to commit suicide before.
 Dec 2013 onetwothree
Chris Smark
I think:
the hammer blows of love
will always be glancing.
Chipping my soul sideways.

But I know:
that if I'm ever struck full-force,
I shall surely shatter.
 Dec 2013 onetwothree
J
Tightly is how he holds my hand.
Subtly is how I glance in your direction.
Within those stolen milliseconds I drink in every color of you my eyes catch.

The natural pink of your lips and of your flushed cheeks.
The blue, green, grey of your eyes.

I yearn to touch the yellow of your long hair, and marvel at the way it shines gold in the rays of the sun.
I love the faint purple under your eyes when you don't get enough sleep.
I even love the traces of brown under your fingernails from the earth.

Still, of all the colors and all the textures of you, the one I love the most isn't yours at all.
It's  the deep red you make me feel with even the slightest upward twitch of the left corner of your mouth, signaling that you feel my red even when I'm holding his hand.

It's the transparent recognition that you see me, seeing you.
 Dec 2013 onetwothree
Chris Smark
Its faded pink parka,
Stretched tight across its shoulders
Even in the summer twilight,
Crinkles, stale newspapers and plastic bags
Cacophony with the rhythmic
Thud of shopping cart wheels.

Its rotten malt liquor stench--
Astringent ammonia sweat
Runs in rancid rivulets down
Decaying skin on decaying face.
Pimples and pus and
****-notched teeth.

It offers a drink
In exchange for change.
My pockets jangle noisily,
But I offer only empty hands.
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