Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Oct 2016 Simone Zona
Vinyldarling
The aching skin of hers vibrated and filled the room with a coldness unbearable

It was an awful sight to anyone who wasn’t understanding

Anyone who wasn’t an artist wouldn’t see the beauty behind the suffering

In her blue eyes

They kept the waves of oceans left to crash back into her mind

Flooding her thoughts like a tsunami

Unbearable

And so breakable.

She may of been weak overall,

But I saw the beauty in it all.

She was a perfect painting to me

Sculpted in lust and passion

*My perfect porcelain.
  Oct 2016 Simone Zona
Jem
while others dream
she lies
curled in her shell
a snail of underwear and eyelashes
with each blink
the blue glow shimmers on her eyes
reflecting a calm sea
that used to know fire

but where is the tempest?
where did the
grasping groping clutching
fingers lose their way through her hair
they were supposed to arrive by now
while the figures wait
shrouded and distant
at the bus stop

is it possible to light a match that has already burnt out?
  Oct 2016 Simone Zona
Bhakti Lata
I want to dance until
my feet go sore
my anklets break free
and I faint on the floor.

I want to sing until
I lose all my senses
my lungs tear apart
and my larynx comes to
a screeching halt.

I want to laugh until
tears pour out my eyes
the darkness around me
gets dissolved in my
laughter's floodlights
and all the existing walls
shatter and break
by the sound of my guffaw.

I want to be like that
singing dancing laughing, mad woman
whom we like to stop and watch,
shake our heads in disapproval
and then secretly think –

'I wish I could be crazy like her!'
  Oct 2016 Simone Zona
phil roberts
In the high sky
Where the air is weak
And full of strangers
Nothing lives for long
Only gypsy-footed drifters
Come here on their way
To who knows where

And this place can only be reached
Without anchor or rudder
Nor even a moral compass
Riding on clouds of smoke
And it's such a long way down
Through falling-about laughter
And blood in the gutter

                                              By Phil Roberts
  Oct 2016 Simone Zona
MST
Speak,
as if you know what you are saying.
Let it roll off the tongue,
******* like a Dung-beetle's ****,
and let me drink it up like a lapdog.
It tastes like heaven from where I sit,
not by comparison,
but lack of.
Next page