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Skaidrum Mar 2019
——————
i.
a dragon's claw;
merely leftovers of the moon
from last night's revolution,
and he beseeched a god long absent:
"how'd you forget my name in the grave
last week?"


ii.
i break bones like i break bread,
and hell recoils at the rare mention of me;
"—we're using blood for watercolors baby—"
'cause sometimes,
i don't think they understand
my heart.

iii.
god took the world to the doctor,
and asked for a cure he couldn't afford;
for the sun has already set in the palms
of my hands, o' father...
and there can only be so many
bones knitted together in this womb.

iv.
recall that,
reality only reveals itself when it feels
like making a fool out of someone;
and i don't know what stage of grief
i'm in—
or if I'm even in one
at all.

v.
i drink tea with ghosts
every other tuesday,
trying to make sense of it all;
because at some point,
—i'll stop eating bullets for
people's whose eyes
pull triggers.

vi.
mama always did raise me to be a sword,
and i killed when she told me to.
because, you see—
the fragile things die
in the cold, and what i find interesting
is that i've remained;
and ultimately?
it's a beautiful thing.

vii.
and when will i learn?
that mercy is false hope amongst all else, darling,
but enough already;
this poem's got universes full
of emotional baggage.

viii.
you said
you're a dreamer?
great, get in line kid,
you'll get a chance to change the ******* world,
just take a number
—like the rest of us;
but, then again...
"the world has always been ready
to receive you, hasn't it?
"
amen to that,
amen indeed.

© Copywrite Skaidrum
RCraig David Jul 2014
“Ten Life Lessons I Learned from My Mom, OK Eleven” by R. Craig David

(1) The truth is an absolute powerful force in the universe. It will remain so despite acknowledgement, understanding or respect for it. So be careful when you seek it, because you may not be prepared for the responsibility of knowing it.
(2.) A good chef always cooks as an expression of himself to others. We eat thousands of times a year, but when you share a meal that tastes amazing with people we know, we are forever influenced by the chef who made it, not the package it came in. Unrelated to when I once proclaimed to her "Best Bologna Sandwich I ever ate" at age 4, that was simply love.
(3.) You taught me that it takes more than creativity to yield great works. You have to respect the process and the amount of dedication required to get results.
(4.) You don’t always love what you do, even if you're good at it or do what you love, even if you're bad at it. You must balance this with hope and love or you will fail being good at either.
(5.) At some point in your life, you’ll need to reconcile your inability to control God, Death, Time and Love. Best to deal with these absolutes, and our powerless influence on them, early in life, though very few people do.
(6.) Unless you are self-aware, you will spend most of your life trying to make people proud of who you are, have respect for you, acknowledge your worth, and give your works value. Outside of family, fear of rejection often pushes us to spend this time on people we are not proud of, have no respect for, have little worth and whose works have no value, yet we seek their approval. Recognize this before you ask someone to rate the quality of anything you feel is a major accomplishment.
(7.) When your health is weak, one of three things is wrong with your body's systems internally:
You do not have enough of something.
There is too much of something.
Something is present that is not supposed to be in your system.
Determining which one it is takes time, hope, patience and a sense of self-preservation. Please note, building a foundation in these values is easier when we are strong, so stock up.
(8.) Choose a mate who encourages you to be a better human. Usually, a girl who only wants you to always pay attention to her and her alone in life, will rarely influence you to do anything else and ultimately you will become a stranger to your own heart.
(9.) Tons of high tech software, faster creative tools, new media outlets and new mediums are invented each year to communicate our ideas. However, you still have to have an actual, original idea to be communicated... as such, spend your time accordingly.
(10.) Learn to respect the time, energy and effort needed to take a thought provoking, complex, creative idea from inception to fruition before trying to gain an audience.
(11.) Also have respect for the patience, perseverance and commitment required to positively influence others to exchange something of value for this complex idea. This can be just as challenging as the energy it takes to create.
Squanto Jan 2014
We are separated
Like the sky and the earth

You are filled with potential that once felt like expectation
the ruggedness of a thousand wild stallions running to the course of their strong united heartbeats
and of the sweat and blood that you've merited your endeavors with

I am filled with ribbons of gentle caresses and a familiarity with the unnoticed weight long hair brings
determination like that of the tired
ceaseless tide that rises up again each morning
and of sweet and salty compulsions

We are separated
Like the Heavens and Earth

You are more than the smell of leather and Copenhagen
You are more than the litter of miscellaneous items next to an inevitable jar of change sitting on your wooden dresser
an exact replica of the Skaggs males' before you.
You are more than calloused hands and a beautiful voice that crawls out and harmonizes with cicadas in the heavy heat lingering into the August night.
You are more than the millions of melodies you've blessed us with
More than the far away look in your hazel eyes as you master your guitar
More than your hearty laugh that delights my soul
More than your kind spirit
More than your careful words
More than your wise wife
More than your delicate girl that I hear call me Aunt
But these things stack on top of one another
Like bricks of a building under construction
Beams of titanium not unlike a skeleton protude into the clouds
Ultimately creating the tower I will proudly claim as my older brother
Directing my acquaintances' attention to the structure that
in this moment
unfinished even
eclipses the sun
Casts a shadow over me
a cool blanket of security
I know the closer that I draw to you
the less I will see of the shambles of other buildings that never compared to you
My view of the misleading wooden structures behind you that will be set afire or deteriorate in the constant turning of gears in the clock of time
will be obscured by your sheer splendor

We are separated
Like the sky and the earth underneath me

And just like the two we are connected further down
The horizon
where we will meet is filled with bittersweet triumph painted in the oranges and pinks of the sunset
I turn and see the horizon behind me
where we began
in all of its plainess
Our childhood in a gray
Hillcrest Terrace
Friday night prayer
Denim and pattles
Oatmeal and cough drops
Iced tea and lilac bushes
All threaded neatly into the full drops of rain that fall from you to I
Connecting the ground and the sky
I turn back to the front and admire what I imagine it will be
Our children's loose teeth
and long cramped car rides
Porch swings and homeschool books
Owned land and old trees
Laughter and loyalty
Irony and victory

We are separated
Like the sky and the ground

But we run in the same direction
not interrupting the others' path
I was not there with you when you let the heaviness of the thoughts in your head fall into your awaiting hands as your shoulders shook
Every ragged breath tinged with cheap whiskey
But I have followed suit of my own accord
I was not there with you when you questioned your very identity until you wondered if you would  recognize yourself if he called you by name
But I may have been caught contemplating the same
I was not there with you when you were overanalyzing one of our sisters' new boyfriend's character and gauging his deservingness
But I often did exactly that
And I was not there with you when you fell in love with your beautiful lady and decided to make her yours
But I was praying for it to be her

An endless fire burns inside me
Searching for
courage I won't have
and words I can't find
Until I can heat you with these flames
I will continue to look at you while you are preoccupied and let the words choke in my neck as reverence floods me for this man who
like his father
remains oblivious to his massive impact and priceless company
Eva Elyse  Oct 2013
Renegade
Eva Elyse Oct 2013
A prisoner.
Bound by the shackles of opinion.
Hope lies behind the bars.
Time seems to slow down.
In due time, they say, you will be free.

A puppet.
Harnessed by the strings of the public.
Each step is premeditated by his master.
Will the strings ever be released?
In due time, they say, you will be free.

A spider.
Entangled in a web of burden.
Spun into the despair that he alone created.
Allowing expectations to ultimately destroy his fate.
Undo what has been done!
Time is past due.
Be free.
wordvango May 2015
the memory of
a movie
the first glance
at Mona Lisa
the first echo of  Marlene Dietrich
singing,
where one time
thrills were really in the back seat
of a sixty four Buick. my sedition
almost fictional taunted,
attracted me ultimately to another realm.
a sphere of passion to be
more than reality. A vision where I could
dream up what was needed in an instant.
a ******* of sight smell feel:
blinds pulled: a slave to imaginating.
conveniently fitting my insanity,
my ****** passion energy
alone with flickering Universal
glamour girls. I then fell for
Marilyn. Oh god it was on.
chylee plunkett Nov 2012
This is a poem of a girl. A girl who is so cliché, that she needs to write angst-filled poetry to keep herself conscious and her thoughts free, but is too hipster to believe it. A girl who is too freckled to be fair, too fleshy to be flirty, too conspicuous to be classy, too prominent to be petite, but too small to be seen. A girl who’s piercing blue eyes absorbs everything and regurgitates emotions like a tampered slots machine—excessi vely and noisily. This is a poem of a girl who is so over-stimulated with color, texture, love, and life that the numbness in her head is a pink eraser. A girl who was brought up to have opinions and dreams as long as they kept her on the path to perfection, poise, and parenting. A girl who is experienced enough to know the difference between sorrow and guilt, manipulation and cowardice, hysteria and hyperventilation but is too naïve to know why certain boys are a bluish green, why math is a bafflement, and why ground up chili peppers in dark chocolate ice cream isn’t everyone’s favorite food. This is a poem of a girl who salivates at the mere thought of classical music, couture fashion, and feminine heels. A girl who breathes in culture like a caterpillar inhales hookah smoke. A girl who Alis volat propriis (flies with her own wings) but ultimately plummets to nosus decipio (Let’s just cheat) because her humanity held down her Heredity. A girl who thrives on music of every variety: as long as it can paint out her emotions in front of her. This is a poem of a girl who is so acerbically witty and harsh that she could unarm Napoleon but is so vehemently protecting that Mother Theresa herself would be awed. A girl with an attention span of a fish, short-term memory like sea foam, thoughts that outnumber armadas, and a bad habit of dehydration. This is a poem of a girl who talks but shouldn’t, speaks but doesn’t, and who is so badly burnt by the enticement of affection that her wallflower camouflage is now charred ashes around her stubby toes. A girl who has such infatuation that she could pin Lust against the wall and make Passion jealous. A girl who wears red lipstick because she knows it will keep a man’s gaze for 8.2 more seconds than with chapstick and the 50’s will never grow old. A girl too nervous and traditional to make the first move, but too strategic and over-analytical to lie back and forget. A girl who loathes the word mamihlapinatapai because it describes her every circumstance since the day she befriended the purple-brown boy who thought her personality tasted of Raspberry ice cream and to this day she still can’t pronounce it. This is a poem of a girl who needs a bed so crowded and protected with blankets and pillows that her monsters can’t penetrate her mazed-up mind. A girl who drinks tea with her lips, and philosophy with her soul. A girl who can’t spell the alphabet backwards but can make great mnemonic devices. A girl who can’t tie ends together because she doesn’t want to leave anything unsaid but whose tangents are kite-strings. A girl whose sentences are distracting fences in front of her literal eyes but doors for her mind’s eyes. A girl who has Synesthesia but keeps it quiet because of the condescending kids in kindergarten who called her a freak, and a liar. This is a poem of a girl who thinks about Death and whether he is a snatching thief or just the ferryman. A girl who dances with her eyes shut, her heart open and her toe-socks on. A girl who will clean her room at 2 am because she can’t handle the sight and the night is too lively for sleeping anyways. A girl who wears her heart not only on her sleeve, but on her chest, open as a blushing book playing poker with hockey players and still winning a game. A girl who’s emotions are kept in a Tupperware box and left in the refrigerator but if you shake it hard enough the lid just might pop open
emily Sep 2022
I used to write. Now I barely can hold a pen or type on a computer for more than a minute. Not because I've fallen out of love with writing but because I've fallen out of love with you that inspired me to write. My love for you died when you thought of me as a second choice. My heart no longer had such a symphony on repeat when you leave without the gift of closure.

Your presence became my home and our conversations became the sonnet that I would forever be captivated by. Your guidance became the white flag in my unforgiving battle. Our hearts beat as one, for a time. And then you left and my world became cold and bland no longer in color but in grayscale where I fought to survive but ultimately lost to the void of heartache.
I don't know when the last time I wrote something was but its been awhile, i've wanted to get back into writing but its been difficult as all motivation to do so has been lost.
Johnny Q  Feb 2018
Unhappy Bella
Johnny Q Feb 2018
Bella was young, Bella was fair
With bilious green eyes and velvet hair
Her face a work of art
Made her creator's eyes squint and fall apart
Bella never let my filthy tongue near her silent heart.

My Bella, she loved nothing more
Than to be a sled one had to grind
Through a desert of white, a sea of ice
He pulled her all over frozen fields, past the last of crystal trees
And then he hid her in the glistering white of nature's eyeball.

For my Bella, I'd always find time to mourn
Addicted to hazy cigar heat and first-degree burns
But dreaded thoughts of her lovely chest freezing to death
Ultimately sent me on the pointless quest
Of searching for Bella in her icy mess.

Bella never saw the dozens of dead dogs
I had to leave by the wayside
She turned to me at the end of this cruel ride
And said: 'George, be careful what you preach
You might be feel cold, but I don't
'Round here, you're looking at nature's peach
And for me, it's right by the beach!'
Pierre Ray Feb 2012
It was written in the beginning, a beginning before Britain, before folklore, gore and war. A beginning then, when the lords created, decorated and separated the night and also the bright, bright light. Therefore, a delight! In the beginning, creating the seven ways of days and the rays. The birth of earth, the black ravens, the havens and the heavens. A beginning of clean slates, dreams, schemes and themes!

As I blink and wink, badly and sadly I think… An ending, with fate or an ending with no ascending or commending date? Let’s debate and negotiate! A beginning, of Pharaohs, their arrows and the sparrows. An ending of sorrow? A beginning, borrowed from our hour’s tomorrow? An ending, I deem, that forever bends, defends, depends, pretends and never, ever seems to end. The heavens specialties and

hell’s cruelties. Governments and their restraints! Negative and positive lengths and strengths. A beginning and an ending; betrayed and strayed, long before many of us were to play or say. Stories of cities, glories and their pities! Starving nations and Haitians! Expensive vacations and relations! The elapsed and relapsed! Perhaps, the mishaps and disruption of our corruption’s eruption and ending

destruction? Hey! I say, let’s turn a page past the basked, the masked and vast. A fold past the cages that enrage-rage, wage and old age.
The detained delights, the petty fights and plights. Why can’t we each reunite? Unite forever! Drop and stop this harm and fight. Fly into the night, together with our almighty arms and mighty charms. Primarily, in the beginning or ending, let us not negatively but too positively and ultimately amend! Children, men and women, amen.
SN Mrax Oct 2014
the zombie has opinions about nutrition
but lives off of tasty urban debris

the zombie is standing on the beach
whipped by grey
watching the waves roll in high

the zombie is on the computer again--
where nobody knows he's a zombie

the zombie seems to be listening but is looking at his phone

the zombie is not a joiner, so don't be uncool and ask
though he might join and then drop out, which just proves
joining was pointless in the first place

oh definitely the zombie likes to go down

the zombie bites the hand that feeds him

the zombie does not mind poison if it means saving money

the zombie is against bad things.

the zombie is not a sheep.

the zombie is dying of loneliness but can't ever seem to connect.

the zombie is spreading deserts
and drowning deltas.

the zombie is standing up for what's right, on facebook.

the zombie knows that *** is safer than alcohol
and it makes him safer

the zombie feels guilty sometimes but ultimately
not personally responsible.

the zombie is tired--not enough sleep, not enough brains.

the zombie doesn't need you,
he just wants you,
when he sees you.

ahem: the zombie wants you for your mind.

the zombie is free.

the zombie embodies Csikszentmihalyi's state of "Flow."

the zombie may have made you one of his kind,

you will never know because
zombies don't know they're
zombies.
DK  Jan 2013
new cycle
DK Jan 2013
Pain again,
What's new,
I solely continue this cycle,
A new curiosity,
A new fling,
A new guy,
Pain,
Only this time the pitcher threw a curve ball,
This time I fell in love,
And boy did I fall hard,

Your true love is better for you,
She makes your world go round,
But you seemed to have forget,
My world revolves around you now,
You have each other,
And I,
I am alone once again,
Only this time things are different,
This time I have changed,
I will now guard my heart,
Like you guarded me from pain,
You are amazing,
Which ultimately did me in,
I can't do this again,
Not for a long time,
The pain is too deep,
It's time for a new cycle,
but...

I love you
judy smith Mar 2017
It is rare that, outside Japan, you hear anything positive about the lot of women in the Japanese workplace. Well-meaning rankings and anecdotal articles frequently do little more than reinforce tired stereotypes. Still, change is afoot and there are many voices in the Japanese corporate world that have a nuanced story to tell—even some who dare to assert that there might be something that Japanese working women have to teach the world.

One important factor preventing progress in how women are viewed in the Japanese workplace is the ongoing prevalence of highly gendered uniforms. This is true both in the literal sense and in what is implied—from strictly structured dress codes that govern post-graduation job hunts right through to the president’s chair. These remain highly gendered for both men and women, a visual reminder of the very different roles played by the “salarymen” and “office ladies” of years gone by, but a stumbling block now, considering how much has changed.

Representative of this change is fashion brand Kay Me, from entrepreneur Junko Kemi. Not just an oddity in the Japanese fashion world, Kemi is an unassuming revolutionary who has dispensed with the establishment path to the racks by forgoing trade shows and industry-only runways. Instead, she builds on her own experience in the Japanese corporate world to fashion the clothes she would wear to the office. In the process, she has managed to chalk up a Ginza flagship store, key retail positions at Japan’s top department stores—including Odakyu in Shinjuku, Mitsukoshi in Nihombashi, Breeze Breeze Umeda in Osaka, and Isetan at Haneda International Airport — and even a presence in London. She’s accomplished this in just over five years — less time than it takes the average brand that plays by the fashion industry’s rules to get their first round of scattered stockists.

Kemi sat down with The Journal to talk about why she moved from marketing to fashion, how she sees women in the workplace, and what she aims to achieve with her designs.

Japanese fashion is a notoriously saturated field. With no background in fashion, why did you choose to enter it?

My background is in marketing and consulting, but I was always aware that, at the root of all market analysis, is the Japanese phrase ishokuju, meaning the necessities of life: food, clothing, and shelter. When you look at Tokyo, there may be a lot of fashion, but that is the way it should be. It is as important and necessary as food and shelter. After the Lehman shock and the March 11 earthquake, this idea of necessity came to have greater meaning for me. I wanted to make something that was really required by people in their lives.

Of course, my background in marketing helped, and I knew that the bigger companies would be scared to compete with me if I chose a niche that wasn’t a proven quantity yet. That niche was professional women; women with the drive to go beyond what society expects of them and who want to express themselves on their own terms in the workplace. There is also part of me that likes to be the rebel, and to a certain extent I just wanted to prove people wrong when they said the market was oversaturated.

One of the most important Japanese fashion designers of our time, Yohji Yamamoto, famously started his eponymous brand in rejection of Japanese “office lady” attire and how working women, as a whole, dressed. Is this a shared source of inspiration?

Perhaps. Although, ironically, given that Yohji Yamamoto mainly uses black, I feel that women’s clothes are too dark! Fundamentally, I feel that historically it made sense that for women to enter the male-dominated workplace they first started dressing like men; but that can’t be where it ends. Far more interesting is for women to be unapologetically feminine and be accepted for it. Women should not have to cast off their own culture to enter the workplace, nor deny their own nature between 9:00 and 5:00. Why shouldn’t there be flowers in an office? In that sense, I am the opposite of Yohji Yamamoto — he wanted his clothes to protect women from men, but I don’t think women need protecting.

My real inspiration is surprisingly conventional. My grandmother ran a kimono shop, so I am always attracted to traditional themes in my work. The Japanese motifs I use, in particular, have been key to reaching people abroad. It is not necessarily targeted like “Cool Japan,” just a lucky coincidence. For Japanese customers, they are a way of building elements of kimono into their working wardrobe instead of wearing full kimono, which is hard in daily life—never mind the workplace.

As an entrepreneur, what do you look for in your employees? Do you actively create a female-friendly work environment?

I have been all around the world meeting entrepreneurs — especially in the UK and East Asian countries — and I am frequently the only Japanese person, and nearly always the only Japanese female entrepreneur. Therefore, similarly minded people with an international mindset are my key assets. With that comes an ability to communicate in English, and the confidence that your ideas will resonate not only in your own country but globally. That is rarer than you think, and a big issue over the course of a career is that only high-ranking members of Japanese companies ever go abroad on business. That locks women out of having experience abroad and stops them thinking more globally.

In terms of workplace, I would like a 50-50 split in my workforce; but right now we are still at the early stage of growing, so it has been vital that everyone understands the shared goal. As I am dressing working women, I have far more women than men working for me for now; unfortunate, but it will change. Also, I insist on flexible working hours for my staff with children. It creates some small issues with timing group meetings, but it is easy to work through and worth it for the talent they bring.

What could institutions like the Japanese government and universities do to change the status quo?

Universities are taking the lead in thinking globally, but that is only half the battle — they need to create more competition among students — female in particular — so they have confidence to go abroad. That needs to be the spark that starts a movement.

As for the government, there are lots of programs out there to support companies like mine, but to be honest we just don’t have the time to apply for them — they require so much documentation. So far, the programs feel like lip service from an older generation who doesn’t understand mine; time will change that.

In the meantime, I am focused on thinking globally. We haven’t targeted the inbound phenomenon as such because they are not necessarily our customers. Instead, I am focused on online expansion and taking my brand to Europe, and hopefully to America via New York in the near future. Of course, I want quick expansion; but ultimately we have been quality- and service-driven in Japan, so we can’t forget that as we look abroad.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
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