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Alanna Romero Jul 31
staring at your obsidian eyes
a thousand of galaxies interwine
Severed serpent cut and writhing
Both halves now dance alone.
In the blood was written
That all things turn to stone.
The cadaverous gaze is screaming
Without a sound expressed.
Obsidian eyes unclosing
Yet forever, now, at rest.
G Rose Apr 5
She was small yet spoke like obsidian
though in reality,
every bone threatened to send her crumbling
like porcelain.
Katie Miller Jan 8
Two-tone lips
Chewed raw from a tempted anxiety
And a stitched together string
Told to keep quiet unless you have a lie to tell
So you can protect the connected streams of expectations
A lie balanced on one lip, the truth falling from the other
Catch it quick before it spills

Burnt bruised skin
Strangled by the soft palms of mercy
With a choked lie so we will protect their name
A yellow-blue watercolor of forgotten truths
Blended together with the concealed coverings
A punch again and one more hit
Block the kick to stop the pain

Obsidian knife blades
Cut deeper than the steel that you use
Black explosive rock glazed with the promise of blood
A line cut into it that separates truth from lie
A simple consequence of being the one who was there
A chance game token of who can get the better death
A knife that only reveals the bruised lips of the liar that we are
I don't entirely know what this poem means, but it definitely means something, I'm still formulating a complete, coherent meaning for it. The two-toned lips was an idea that just kinda came to my mind, and the obsidian and blood combination came from a recent trip to New Mexico, when our tour guide was having us imagine the obsidian arrows covered in blood, and I found that artistic and beautiful, so I used my own version of it in my poem.
who always sat perched on the porch at dusk
to watch the sun slowly set beyond the horizon

she listened as the last birds fluttered to their nests,
and inhaled the raw air as the breeze swirled around her
all the while her eye towards the sinking sun

vanilla bean was white with black specks
but when the moon rose
she became the universe

her spots radiated like a million stars,
her body obsidian like the backdrop of the galaxies
and she became the night
Asher Nov 2016
dare i wonder what you think of me
for i do not know what i think of myself.
maybe there's a difference between how you see yourself and how you let others see you.
     am i a plague or a remedy
     am i stone cold or burning flames
     am i chilled to the bone or am i a home
sometimes home can be a person, but i am no home.
my hands are cold, they will burn you with
frost. i am kind but i am afraid.
my chest hurts with the thought of you.
not because i wish to have you but because
                            i don't.
maybe i do, but i am an ocean and you are lost in me. i can see the moon.
     do i flee from what i have only to retreat to what i am?
i ask of you, are you something new or the
                             thing that i can't find.
i have a treasure that i wish to keep and
                              not soil.
you are a treasure of your own.
yet i am not worthy.

i can have obsidian or i can have gold.
Man has always been greedy but i am
                      Humble.
     am i kind?
am i kind to take a cherry with
     cyanide pit?
you believe me a diamond, but i am only coal.
you, my dear, have a heart made of gold.
Mark Teo May 2016
Drink the cup of shadows
Twist and turn inside
Feel the whirls around bring back
The one that was beside

Darkness creeps in fire
Infernos writing lies
Tells you I won't break you
Tells you I'll keep you alive
Extinguished in a second
A second after the first
A second intended to last
But dust to dust and ash to ash
The cascades take all that is past

Take away the weakness
Take in the soul of night
Let this leave you hardened
Reborn from embers left to die
Hello darkness my old friend, title came much later after shadow+fire thingy, kinda written spontaneously hahaha
Fat, tall, and poor, well a young girl
couldn't be anymore different or
shouldn’t.
Hard headed with no tears, I
so wanted to be made
in that single moment of creation, of
fire.

There they stood in black
huddled by the books on
‘craft
in the aisle for young fantasy
we stood glaring, laughing, judging
not glass, but a shiny mirror
reflecting.

Slipping out of school early,
brandishing new bags and clothes,
lies  
feet treading along the linoleum tiles,
of halls and malls, sitting in cafés
the pressure changing what showed on the
surface.

Needle pierced skin over
and over again, so much
fire
the pain throbbing, spreading
as ink sunk into my skin
crafting little by little a symbol
pagan.
Anthony Perry Jun 2014
My head is over swelling, my heart is overwhelming, i've been trying to deal with this fear but no promises are forthcoming. Abused intentions create these walls you have put up around me, tortured ambitions mummify the air that surrounds me, cremated passion falls from above like black rain making it hard to see, dreams are projected from my obsidian eyes onto a silver screen woven from a life of lies. Truth only hurts when you become afraid of the pain, learn to overcome this this hurt and you'll just have to suffer with the shame. In these last moments I have no one to blame and everything is well in my head as i prepare to take aim, a clock on the wall counts down to the twilight while I inhale the last cold breath of the night, peace is all i hope to gain so i pull the trigger and the last things i hear are sounds of thick pounding rain.

— The End —