sinderella: Favorites

Jan 2014 sinderella

Ash

"I love you."
those three sweet
meaningless words
always find their way into my head
and roll around like they're stuck
in a box
moving from house to house
never really finding a place
to call "home"

and i wish i could get the idea of you
and those three words out of my mind
but you’re stuck there
as much as we both hate it
and each other

day after day
you’re still there
in my veins
in my bloodstream
my pulse spells out your name

I haven’t washed you from my sheets
out of fear that my body
will miss your slight touch
or out of fear that
I may be forgetting you
and I don’t want to
but I need to

and if you look closely enough
to the scars on my arms
they tell a story
in chronological order
of how I fell in
and out
of love
with you

(a.k.)

Jan 2014 sinderella

But I'm A Writer

Jan 2014 sinderella

Chloe Cresse

But I'm A Writer

Many openings and a lot of close encounters
Denied offers and spared hours
Countless compliments on the personality and face
Sometimes with promises, I slip away without a trace

It seems that I keep my heart behind rod iron doors
So love and promises cannot be forced
I try and try until trying isn't enough
So I accept the fact and keep on acting tough

When dealing with love, only time can tell
Hopefully someday I can tell the story of the day I fell
Young and blessed with a passion filled soul
I decided that "You can't love until you love yourself" is getting old

I love myself, I truly do
It took a couple of years to learn how to
So if I love what lies within
Why can't I love? Where do I even begin?

I love my friends, family, Nirvana, sunflowers, tattoos, books, writing, and tea
If that's not love, I don't know what can be
I'm an ignorant fool who's blind to love
I've tried to see. I went beyond and above.

Some call me a heart breaker, a heartless savage even
But honestly, I'm a walking bag of organs who doesn't know where to begin
I carry with me a stone in a rod iron cage
But I'm full of passion and full of rage

I'm too ignorant to love and too careless to care
But I'm a writer and here's what I dare
Don't follow my footsteps and find a passionate guy
For when a writer falls in love with you,
you'll never die.

Jan 2014 sinderella

Mine or His

Jan 2014 sinderella

Leila

Mine or His

Our time is done - the party has ended
I lost one and i’m slightly offended
I tried hard to make it work
Nothing ever works
Its gonna have to hurt
On my heart he went berserk
He lied as he told me he wouldn't
He hid from me when he said he couldn’t
Why is it so hard to be honest?
Come to find out the truth is ironic…
He asks why i'm soaked after he leaves me in the rain
Words, poems.. they pale in comparison to pain
An imposter with some serious nerve...
It’s like everything said was never heard
Him, the hoes..one day they'll see their fire and feel it's heat
They'll burn up as they sit in their blazing seats
Lies and truths cannot be one and the same
Karma is strange - eventually everything will change
Debtors bear the costs from the closest range

Jan 2014 sinderella

THAT night

Jan 2014 sinderella

emmaline

THAT night

okay so it was one of those nights where you're breathing but you aren't sure you're really there and
yeah at first i remember calling you.
your car pulled up and i met you outside on the street
the first thing i saw was myself in your hazy eyes and your new tattoo
so i started to yell, i just needed to take out all this hurt and anger
and yeah you did need that cigarette
i hated cigarettes
and thats when you said i should kiss you
we were just sitting there and
i've never tasted anything so freeing
gah i hate those **** cigarettes that go in the mouth that gave me air for breathing
i remember seeing
myself in your eyes again
WHAT
just happened
there you are grabbing me shoving me against the car (i think you stopped smoking)
PRESSING YOUR BODY AGAINST MINE LIKE THERE IS NO MORE SPACE IN THE WORLD BUT HERE
MOVING YOUR TONGUE AROUND IN MY MOUTH LIKE A FRANTIC GOLD MINER SEARCHING FOR THEIR TREASURE IN THE CORNERS OF MY MOUTH AND
SPELLING OUT YOUR FAVORITE WORDS
THAT MEANT SO MUCH MORE WITHOUT SOUND and
****
i never tasted so many colors and saw so many sounds and heard so many flavors in my life till i found a bit of heaven between your fingers and pushed against the palms of your hands and
i didn't think it meant a night i'd remember for the rest of my life but all i ever see in the mirror
is that i remember
seeing myself in your eyes that night

Jan 2014 sinderella

a p p l y ;

Jan 2014 sinderella

Julia Robertson

a p p l y ;

your first step on the road to "recovery"
was to tape words on your reflection
colors littered with senseless lessons
colors littered with senseless rules

your second step on the road to "recovery"
was to trail words on the thin walls
tainting the white trim of your door
the words were like water seeping from
your demon flooded bedroom

your third step on the road to "recovery"
was to illustrate the words in unsustainable images
literally photoshopped to the unachievable
recovery became self indulgence

you have a skewed sense of progress
thinking consuming the clean will clear you of your sins
but your sins are buried deep in the abandonment you kept hidden
in the hallows of your debt

self recovery cannot be found with words spat out of context
hanging on your reflection
self recovery is found when you reflect those words into context

Jan 2014 sinderella

Death of the rose petals

Jan 2014 sinderella

Vonshay

Death of the rose petals

I find its amazing how something so small could create something twice as beautiful as the sunset on a summer day.
Something so meaningful as the declaration of independence,  something so powerful,  that the moment you see them, you secretly shed a tear & thank God for creating life itself.

The day I received those two beautiful red roses,  I thought about Nikki Giovanni "still I rise"
As I stand there eye to eye with the roses,  I felt growth,  progression & happiness manifesting.

That was the day   you whisper in my ear" I love you"
I was so lost in the moment.

Days went by & I realized i
I forgot to put the roses in water.

And just like we needed love, so did the red roses.
I tried to repair it's images to the plant I once seen as beautiful.

Day my day we haven't talk & the roses lost life.
Just like you disappeared, so did the petals .
The only thing that reminds was a steam with root.

I see you to be my red rose
The roots symbolized growth
The steam was the foundation
& what was missing was the petals that brought everything to life.

So on that day our  love died, part was still alive,  not in such good condition. .but it was still with me.

I drained the water, trashed the stream & collected the roses peddles that was no longer red.
They were darker then a funeral attire.
Just part of me felt if I buried you deep down that maybe the thought of you will dye and reincarnated into something else beautiful & find your way back to me in a new disguise.

Then I realized this was a lesson,  reincarnated into a blessing.
R.I.P to the red rose and long live your memories , I'll never forget you or the feelings you once give to me.

Jan 2014 sinderella

Hesitation

Jan 2014 sinderella

Mitchell

Hesitation

There is
A hesitation in
Creation

So burdensome
That even the GREATS
Were cursed by it.

One cannot escape it
Master it or
Defeat it;

It is as apart of us
As our breathe, our sweat,
Our blood, our death.

Hesitation rests on your
Shoulders
Heavy and wet

Hesitation sits lodged in your throat
Like a boat stuck in ice

Hesitation:

The moment before
The beauty of
Creation.

Thoughts bubble and gurgle
Like water at the mouth of a river.

There, thought waits for action,
For courage, for someone to say go.

Because there can be no creation
Without a trigger.

We are machines waiting to be turned on,
Used, abused, and one day, thrown out.

The mechanism slowly spins within.
Each one of us molded, oiled, and shipped.
Our destination partly our own
And partly another.

Who is calling us out in the world
But our own selves?
Why don't we just stay the **** put?
What adventure do we seek to experience?
What has life got to offer?

Sensation.
Hesitation.
Creation

Or none.

My eyes drift to the edge of my desk.
I listen to noises I do not appreciate.
Most days everything sounds like white noise.
On the horizon, a fog rolls in, heavy gray.

I am so very tired these days.
Someone give me a pick me up.
I'll pay, I promise, I will.
Someone give me a pick me up, please.

Fortunately, fantasy has no definition, only hesitation.
Within the glass holds both the truth and the lie.
Brown paper sacks filled with groceries sit along the curb.
Rhyme and words smell like cranberries and thyme.

Cross your fingers
Allow your mind to burn like tinder
Abdicate the hierarchy

Push the pen
One more stroke

Jan 2014 sinderella

Vitamin-Shaped Choices

Jan 2014 sinderella

Jeremy Duff

Vitamin-Shaped Choices

Imagine there's a vitamin you can take that makes you feel euphoric and free of pain and any thoughts other than warmth. Imagine that the vitamin's effects will wear off rather quickly. Imagine the vitamin is rather costly. Imagine after weeks of taking the vitamin you begin to notice that the good feelings it gave you are no longer present and you are only taking the vitamin so you won't feel sick and cold and alone and depressed. Imagine the vitamin is making you steal money from your mother's purse to buy more. Imagine the vitamin is making you hold up your local corner store. Imagine you only desire the company of the vitamin, your friends and family no longer matter. Imagine being done with the vitamin but knowing that the vitamin is not done with you, not until it has destroyed every meaningful relationship in your life, ****** your soul dry and killed you.

Now, you are offered a choice: this imaginary vitamin, or your life.

Choose your life, choose your friends, choose football in the street, choose walks in the park with your sister but whatever you do, don't choose ******.

Jan 2014 sinderella

Life's Pathway

Jan 2014 sinderella

Yara Mrad

Life's Pathway

The people you meet and the experiences you've had
Those gavels that build up your pathway leading to a future
As bright as your accomplishments
As dark as your failures.
You may choose to be just another number
Or thrive to shine like thunder
To some you're a stop on the road;
A pebble in their vast sea of rocks
To others you're a destination;
An essential stone they place with rigid intention
You're their hero on the walk of fame
Or the outsider on the walk of shame
Thus, disappointment's the winner of this festive year
From your anger, losses to your biggest fear
It haunts your dreams
Steals away your sleep,
Here to degrade people from high above the clouds
To way down below
Rolling in the muddy hole
Made for our faded ashes
Alongside the endless mourns,
The trembling sounds of our murmuring voices
That hide a hint of joy
In tribute to all that's now long-gone
Insecurities, doubts, and all that once dragged us down
Making room for shinier stones
Full of life, reflecting hope
For a brighter future known for achieving goals

Jan 2014 sinderella

Photographs without memories

Jan 2014 sinderella

John F McCullagh

Photographs without memories

Not on your lips,
No, not anytime soon.
Your mind has become
Like the dark side of the moon.
Full of holes and lacunae
and dark shadowy walls.
Sometimes words fail you,
More often, recall.
I show you a picture
Of when you were young
I can see it’s a struggle,
on the tip of your tongue.
I wish you could help me
Match names and faces
Caught here in print
In silvery traces
If only a synapse could snap into place
Give you back the dignity
That time has erased.
Then you could name these comrades
headed off to the war.
Maybe then could you tell me
where past years are.

Photographs without memories