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robin Mar 2013
her mouth was sandpaper.

her mouth was sandpaper
and she spoke like
a smooth surface,
words scraped into fluidity
like a wooden sphere,
turned over behind teeth ‘til all friction
is lost.
she spoke like the walls of a birdhouse
in the room of a dead carpenter:
pretty unassembled things.

her mouth was sandpaper
and every kiss chafed,
rubbing raw my lips
and tongue
crafting with each touch
drawing blood like
juice from an apple,
like sap
from wood already cut from the tree.

her mouth was sandpaper
and she told me
i bite my lips,
rip at
the inside of my mouth,
cannibalize myself cell
by cell.

bone saws in her mouth.
the only difference between teeth of jaws
and saws
is mercy
(and she swallowed her mercy long ago).

her mouth was sandpaper
and she spoke like a carpenter’s hands:
rough palms,
tough pads,
a utilitarian artist
a crafter of dead flesh.
a mortician for dryads
and kodama.
the art and the artist
in lips
tongue
and teeth.

her mouth was sandpaper
and i brought mine to hers
again and again,
her bitten-rough lips
opening like doors to
purgatory.
less entrapment than addiction -
returning once more to nails and hammers,
hell’s blacksmiths below
heaven’s painters above.
coming back home
to the space between,
to bone saws
and a carpenter’s hands.

her mouth was sandpaper
and her voice was carpentry,
her teeth bone saws
her words
birdhouse walls.
her mouth was purgatory
but her hands
were hands.

her mouth was sandpaper.
i held her hand
and chafed my lips raw.
Ryan P Kinney  Apr 2015
Who Am I?
Ryan P Kinney Apr 2015
Who Am I?

I am a boy and a man.
I am a son, a brother, a cousin, a nephew, and a grand child.
I was a boyfriend, a fiancé, a husband, and an in-law.
I am a bachelor.
I am surrounded and abandoned.
I am a family man and a loner.

I am a homemaker and a handyman.
I wear the apron and the tool belt.
I am a neat freak and a slob.
I am an amateur contractor and a contracted amateur.
I am a dumpster diver, a recycler, and a decadent waste.
I am a glutton, a scavenger, and a scrapper.

I am a friend and an enemy.
I am fun and an annoyance.
I am a lover and a hater.
I am creepy, cruel, and harsh.
I am tender, loving, and inviting.
I have a foul mouth and tender lips,
Drenched in jagged, soft-serve words.

I am a painter, sculptor, draftsman, sketcher, character designer, photographer, graphic designer, fashion designer, kitbasher, customizer, and crafter.
I am a reader, a writer, and a poet.
I am the Jail Baby, Ryan & Lisa, The Phoenix, The AntiFather, and The HEYMAN!
I compose symphonies of visual and intangible imagery.
I bring form to thought.
I destroy,
I create.
I am an artist.

I am a geek, nerd, freak, and otaku.
I have been punk, goth, prep, white trash, and metrosexual.
I wear glasses,
But only as a sick joke.
I am beautiful and ugly,
Clean and *****.
I am unique.
I am predictable.
I have changed, but am still the same.

I am a techie,
An electronic ******.
I am cutting edge and old school.
Digitally signed and sealed.
I am analog and obsolete.

I am an adrenaline addict.
I can chill, maybe slow,
But never relax.

I am blue collar, tradesman, and service industry.
I am peon and ****** on.
Oh, but I have done the ******* too!
I have been hired and fired,
Bought and sold.
I have worn the uniform,
I have said, “**** the man!”
I am the proletariat,
I am in charge.

I am a student, dropout, and teacher.
I am class clown and teacher’s pet.
I have learned, forgotten, and taught,
But never learned my lesson.
I don’t listen to what I’m told,
But always do what I tell.

I am a genius,
I am an idiot.
I have intelligence, but often lack the intel.
I am naïve, but wise.
I am right and wrong.

I have philosophies and ideas,
But no religion.
I have desecrated and blasphemed,
Prayed and praised.
I have lusted, envied, and coveted.
I am guilty and innocent,
Pure and soiled,
Good and bad.

I am a driver and a passenger.
I am an explorer and a shut-in.
I am wild and free,
Caged and stifled.
I was warmly wrapped in my blanket,
But burned through it.

I have rode, climbed, and conquered.
I  stood still.
I jumped in.
I have fallen and been defeated.

I have been abroad,
I have been nowhere.
I have drifted.
I have settled.
I have led and been led.
I have been in and out,
Here and there,
Around and AWOL,
On the run and trapped.
But, not everywhere.

I have applied,
I have procrastinated.
I have worked my fingers to the bone,
I have slept it off.

I have fought and fled.
I have quit.
I have endured.
I am a winner and a loser,
A champ and a chump.

I am fake,
I am real.
I have lied, cheated, and stole.
I have been honest, fair, and generous.

I am selfish and selfless.
I am a gift giver, gift wrapper, and gift taker.
I am a thief and a philanthropist.

I am insecure and confident,
Confused and absolutely sure.
I am proud and ashamed.
I am complicated and convoluted,
But simple to please.

I have blind faith and guarded suspicion
I have secrets,
But lie rarely.
I accept everyone,
I trust nothing.

I have pointed the finger,
Only to turn it on myself.
I have held grudges and forgiven.
I have trusted and misguided.
I have been Judas and Jesus.

I am a maniac,
I am sane.
I have been strong and weak.
I can keep it together,
But prefer to break it apart.

I have bled.
I have healed.
I have been abused and neglected,
Coddled and protected.

I have been kissed and punched;
Hunted, wanted, and arrested,
Ignored, overlooked, and invisible.

I have loved and lost,
Lived and learned.
I am a soldier of misfortune and opportunity.

I have blended in.
I have stood out.
I have stood up.
I have backed down.
I have been backed into a corner.
I have all the space in the world.

I have seen, interpreted, and perceived,
I have ignored, dismissed, and been blind.
I hunger, want, and need…
I am satiated and content,
But never at peace.

I have been misunderstood and underestimated.
I have been put down, put up, pushed away, and let in.
I have been known,
But never entirely.

I have raged, cried, smiled, trembled, and laughed.
I have been depressed.
I have been happy.
I have been suicidal. I have felt death.
I have been lost and found.
I have been broken, then fixed,
Stitched, yet glitched,
Scarred, but whole.
I am alive.


I took the chance,
I let the moment slip.
I walked the straight and narrow,
I ran down the road not taken.
I dream; some whole, some shattered.
I go with the flow, but don’t let the waves take me.

I am shards and reflections,
Machinations and reactions.
I am translucent pieces and parts,
Assembled and disheveled.
I am the big picture still focused on the details.

I am the sum total of heredity and experience.
I am not,
I am more.
I am everything and nothing.
I am a walking contradiction.
I am human.

I tried to be you,
But didn’t know what that meant.
I am me,
It’s all I know.

Who are you?
Paula Swanson Nov 2010
Just as a boy grows into teenager,
he is bound, to one day, grow into man.
I think it's when he is just five years old,
he becomes a demolition fan.

At that juncture, it's all about the tools.
To dismantle what works perfectly well.
They may begin plastic at the start,
but it triggers something in their cells.

A teenager will start with something small,
a lawnmower, dirt bike, then on to cars.
Then as he ages and gains life experience,
the quest for tools is written in the stars.

It starts with a simple set of wrenches.
Then moves on to socket sets and ratchet.
Not just ASE, they need metric as well.
A tool store is a veritable banquet.

Metal worker, wood crafter, mechanic,
Plumber a welder and electrician.
Wrapped up in a testosterone package,
needing a new tool for the next mission.

Watch as his eye light, when reaching for a tool,
that's new to the market, sitting on display.
It's no longer about simple fun in an old cardboard box.
It will be tools from now till his dying day.
Cheri Lynn Jan 2014
Imagine your dreams as reality,
one who crafts and shapes how their life will be.
A smith with unlimited skill,
unmatched force inside,
called the strength of ones will.

You carry a charge within you,
A powder keg of potential dreams;
Don't let all these shadows dissuade you.
Light your fuse and burst life at the seams!

There's no need to rein in adventure,
not when the company's true.
Just be sure to take stock and measure,
the loyalty of those close to you.

The message that resonates deep,
that echos within each of our souls is
have courage -- live what you dream up.
No one else can achieve your heart's goals.
Ethan Titus Nov 2014
Oh, how the mighty art fallen
Lucifer, son of the morning star
Behooved by manner of thy own devices
How pompous thou hadst become to refuse to bend thy knee to man
It was pride that filled thee to burst
Had it not been but a few millenia later
Even your knee would have bent to the King of Glory
Whenst He did stoop down to the level of man
Even you wouldst have cried out "Lord, Lord wouldst thou not take upon thyself my raiment of glory? Clothe yourself as a king, not as a commoner."
Were it so much that us being made of dirt and you of fire that your proudness could render thee blind to our beauty as endowed by our shared Creator?
Though our mediums be different, were the Crafter's hands not the same?
Wouldst thou haft only humbled thyself, a different world we could have
I pity and thank thee, oh fallen one
For showing me how not to be
Halie Harris Jan 2012
Come bearer of death
oh, carrion crafter
the plains be wrought bereft
oh, we hail forever after!

Be your praise dying cries and blood
you murderer of the weak
raise your armies, a rampant flood
and with ease, crush the meek!

Sire of the end
and vanguard of sin
pray we the world never mend
and light never win!
Bitter Senses  Aug 2018
Crafter
Bitter Senses Aug 2018
Why I have to walk this road again and again
Oh boy it's hard to put an end to this pretense,

I tripped so many times on my way to your heart
Before I realized that I couldn't get that far,

Oh, how can you be so naive my friends always scream
Just erase every image of this boy in your dream,

Don't worry, don't wrestle, just the thought of his name
It's enough to put you through a new wave of pain,

If he ain't gonna do it I will craft a kinder world
I'll get my hands ***** in the name of that love
um...I guess it's about when you had so much love to give  but that person just was emotionally unavailable and you ended up not knowing what to do with all that excess of feelings. so you just decided to build this new world of love where everybody who wanted a piece of that affection could just come and grab some.
Ethan Titus  Dec 2014
Break Me
Ethan Titus Dec 2014
Break me
Oh mighty crafter
A stubborn statue I have been
Though the hardships have weathered against me
Sought to endure through them, I have
But it is not the will of man or myself that seeks me broken
It is Your Will, Lord
Break me, not so I will fall and crumble
Break me, so that I may be rebuilt
Crafted in the beginning so that I might be displayed in your righteous and Holy hall at the end
A darkness was cast upon the world and I was overtaken
Deteriorating, I was
Living in this sinful state, I continued
Why? Just to exist?
When your Son came down, He offered me shelter from the elements
I thought myself forgotten, ready for time to take its toll
Destroyed, I was prepared to be
The corruption went deeper than the surface
No longer fit was I to enter your Holy hall at the end of all
Yet your Son, by Your hand sent, came to restore me
Break me, so that I may be rebuilt in the glorious visage you envisioned
Though the elements will be harsh against me still, I will trust in You to keep me
Break me, Father, so that I may be restored
david mungoshi Oct 2016
had read some of his poems
but never stood at his statue
a local boy become a famous lad
revered crafter of a shropshire lad
now here i was with my digital camera
knowing full well it was no chimera
being here at the shrine of a wordsmith
whose professorial gaze is wide and sweeping
i tell you straight that for joy my heart is weeping
you will ask if i am a friend of narcissus
that mythical lad with conceit like a colossus
for after i've gone click! click!
i see my image embedded in the shiny black marble
and i feel like a visiting poet embraced by another in stone
yesterday i was walking along the main street of bromsgrove with my wife, my grandson and our son-in-law. with a plastic mug of hot chocolate in my hand i somehow ended at the base of the statue of  a.e. housman, professor and poet. I went click, click, click with my camera and when later i looked at the pictures, there i was, like a familiar etched inside the photograph of a view of housman's statue. a capital experience!
Stop. Breathe.
Feel the earth beneath you're feet
Stay intact, stop the fracture
Everywhere you look there's greener pastures
Have a moment of laughter,
Appealing to no master
In this current moment
You know nothing else could matter
Peace will come full circle like the rings of saturn
You can pull yourself together when you find yourself scattered
You're destiny is malleable, and only you can be it's crafter
Kyla  Feb 2012
Hearts
Kyla Feb 2012
Our childhoods lay out between us,
Like games we pretend to play.
Pieces lost under your bed.
Cards crafter unconsciously into makeshift chaos.
Somehow this was enough.

That was before; when goodnight wasn’t as simple as two words stung loosely together from start to star until it hung silently over our heads.
No, it used to be spelled out in whole solar systems maped out in secret between us.
Escape wasn’t the door you walked out of.
It was a door we swung open and ran into.
I used to watch you blink.
Gusts of wind sending waves
across your blue eyes.

I was convinced that somehow we were pure

I remember sitting on my mother’s lap once.
She whispered
“One say you’re going to outgrow my lap”
I quickly promised back
“We will always fit”

I thought that we were one of those promises.


I waited for you to hang the moon and wake the sun.

Time ran through your veins.
You effortlessly used it.
It echoes through the place I would never belong.

{shoot the moon}
This poem is still in progress. Its supposed to end with shooting the moon like the card game, you look like you're loosing but you win. But I cant find the right words right now. I figured id put it up and see what people think of it now.

— The End —