#italics
I would write with letters bold
and stylish flare to break the mold.
Italics letters, I would like.
To make them seems a fright.
The very size of any font:
big or small is what I want.
Style settings won't transfer
Boring text makes me grrrrr!
Editorial control,
That is what I want to know!
Sep 20, 2019
Sep 20, 2019 at 10:50 AM UTC
Your poetry is like cinematography in my head.
How do you do it?
How do you point the formatting like a camera,
like you’re panning for gold,
and discovering something precious
so deep and real
just with the position of your italics?
I told you this,
and then you reciprocated,
saying,
I, on the other hand, use word choice
I listened and heard your intention
I choose and commit to one
like an undying promise
imbuing that choice with all the meaning I can.
You tell me you noticed,
and I suddenly had no words.
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 9:35 AM UTC
Happiness:
The state of being happy.
But
What is happy? –
Feeling pleasure (content).
But
Am I happy?
I see you;
Every day –
With another
And; I am happy?
I am pleased:
By your radiant smile.
Yet why?
Am I not happy –
I have:
An urge;
A burning desire;
A –
Requirement.
To feel pain.
Is this what it is,
To be happy?
To shed blood every day;
To drown in agonising pain;
To fake; every; single –
Emotion.
Then: I don’t want you
To be happy
I can.
You can’t –
Be happy: –
With another;
I am happy to see you happy.
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 3:34 PM UTC
people say they’re afraid of the dark
i am the opposite
i am afraid of the light
light exposes
darkness conceals
shadows the parts of myself i cannot face in the mornings
you have to use the senses you so often neglect
listen to my voice
touch becomes beauty
and i am beautiful because you can feel me
in a way where you don’t need to see my physicality
because it exists in your palm
the image of me is yours to create
i am ready to be your canvas so please
paint me with the deepest shade of your kiss
splash me with hot breath
i am sticky from your sickly sweetness
we never have to turn on the lights
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 4:54 PM UTC
*I don't know the rules. If I go looking
for grace and find it, what will grace*
be but penance for my past, a silver
sinew-thread wrapping 'round old
wrongs, gray hair for the
fickle.
I've naught but want for sweet release
from this history. The bombs ignored,
repeating in gramophone static
dripping stiff
*as wet bamboo. I remember someone
once sang here, once strung together*
chords so sweet they rang like peace-
bells beneath cloudless sky. They've
rang the bell upon my jaw and
done no wrong.
It's not so much unlike one's curiously
cold reception at a funeral. The cold
and rain ****** at the skin
during graveside hymnal.
*As long as the earth continues
its stony breathing I will breathe.*
That which I cannot help but do.
Stuck between boulders, I sing.
*When it stops, I will shatter back
into gravity. Into quartz.*
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
*I'M TIRED OF TEARING MYSELF DOWN
BUT I CAN'T GET THE KNIFE OUT OF MY BACK
OR MOVE THE GUN FROM MY TEMPLES
OR THE BAD THOUGHTS OUT OF MY HEAD
AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO*
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
hello, i am a
writer, i am happy.
look at me smile.
look at me,
look at me—
no it’s not, you
dumb **** shut up,
you’re worthless,
you’re worthless,
you think you can be happy—
i am sad sometimes.
all the time—
half the time—
my lifetime—
where is the lie?
i am.
i am.
okay, i’ll be fine,
it’s fine,
okay, okay?
okay. yes, yes,
yesyesyes
look at me, i am
worthless stupid
******* amazing*
shut up and look,
look at me don’t,
*i don’t care i
don’t care i don’t
love you* yes i do
i don’t care ***of course
it’s all i think about***
stop stop stop,
don’t look at me,
i am too great,
too great, look,
look, i am on top,
the world is mine—
only in my head
only in my head
only in my head
shut up, shut up,
be quiet, i am tired!
leave me alone.
i don’t want to be alone.
help me be alone,
go away,
please.
please.
please.
please.
[…I don’t know what you mean.]
“I’m sorry, it’s nothing.”
where is the lie?
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
My thinking is in bold,
but my words in lower-case.
She dreams in italics,
but,
unfortunately,
speaks in CAPITALS.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
*In mouth, put-
choo-choo kazoo chomp chomp YUM!
Mmmm MMMMMMmmm.
Whosagoodbaby!?
Whosagoodbaby!?*
The infant hears,
wondering if all adults talk this way,
chuckling to himself, the ridiculousness tickling his vibrating mind
looking on at the goofy giant babbling gibberish
who seems oddly ecstatic
to feed colorful mush.
The child contemplates the intricacies of communicating
the smelly in his shorts.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC