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"erasing" poems
Body of ocean, milk and sky, We are tangled in the hope of night. The lips of the milky way, creaming us, Stains and is **** with a taste keening; All is creation.  My meteors crash Into your ruptured Earth.  I flame Upon your must and moisted furrows And my toes are locked, rooted in yours. Body of ocean, milk and sky, In the deserts of the day you are true Oasis.  The curves and waft of your sands Seethe and sodden my barren plains, Are erasing all my wandering memories Of an endless sky and now your eyes Are the only stars I know, and your skin; A sheet that holds the heavens shimmering. Body of ocean, milk and sky, Your ******* are the heaving of grasses And wind, loft and laden in the rounded Hills, a hoard of ****** bread, bountiful, Ripe and strange.  Your hair is an endless Savannah, your valleys are gold and honeyed With milk, seared, filled by my penetrating sun. In passion we play; low on earth and deep in sky.
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May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 2:49 PM UTC
Body of Ocean, Milk and Sky
"We can't afford to be wrong on this issue."   ~ Francis Chan With holy anguish hearts are crying through feeble language urgently trying to summon the sleeping now to wake for souls' eternities are at stake
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Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 8:24 AM UTC
"Erasing Hell"
To write words over and over To explain what it feels to love you To express what you mean to me No words can be enough for that And so I always end up erasing them
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May 3, 2019
May 3, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC
Words Erased
*I wish I didn't have these arms you scratched This broken heart you deeply touched? Imagine the idea of making no **** oath If I wasn't given such a sincere mouth What if I had no arms to hold you tight Or I were an imbecile whose mind thought nothing right What if I was a strengthless ******* who couldn't fight Imagine I had no eyes to see you the day we met If I hadn't taken that road that sealed our fate If I was soul-less, if that makes some sense And lived free of guilt without conscience To walk out on every lady like you did to me Imagine it was sold ,the much I'd pay to be so mean What if I wasn't human to trip and madly fall Or I had no mobile to helplessly answer your call Imagine I was deaf to apologies or created without ears Could I have shed these oceans of tears all these years? Imagine I had no nostrils to master your fragrance Or palms to get adicted to the softness of your ambiance If I had a stiff neck which could never turn Imagine, me without looking back the far I would run Imagine love was already made and we hadn't made it Imagine I could decide who charmed me, not fate's merit Imagine I erasing all the sweet moments and enjoying the sour Wouldn't my pride still be as high as the Babel tower? Just take your time, take away my eyes, feet, heart, soul and mind And see what I'd be, a dark lonesome beast of its kind So as you're walking away and sending me into a trance Imagine walking back and this time having no other chance*
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May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 1:52 PM UTC
AS YOU WALK AWAY
I know I’ve said erasing it Is not facing it And that to face something takes bravery Well, I’m done crying And I’m sick of waiting For something that will never happen I’m sorry I missed you And that I fell for “unconditional” love provided Through thick and thin Until the final spin When you split Slowly but surely You erased the happiness The love we had For one another Slide it under the cover To be buried with me Now, it’s my turn Never thought it'd come to this So much for learning to trust Instead ill learn to erase And delete every last place I secretly hold you in I faced it And I took the beating hard While he ran And left me standing On a ledge looking up, praying For answers I’m done hurting Done with thinking you won’t leave That you couldn’t have left So I’m going to block you From my memories for a new Day that I will get through
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Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 11:44 PM UTC
bravery.
We have lost even this twilight. No one saw us this evening hand in hand while the blue night dropped on the world. I have seen from my window the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops. Sometimes a piece of sun burned like a coin in my hand. I remembered you with my soul clenched in that sadness of mine that you know. Where were you then? Who else was there? Saying what? Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away? The book fell that always closed at twilight and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet. Always, always you recede through the evenings toward the twilight erasing statues.
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10.7k
Clenched Soul
Fiat lux and Then I stand and see how it looks out on Gnothi seauton psychologies of a naughty automaton he is Out speeding on the autobahn while she is Now sleeping on futons in peace it's Not pieces that need to be re-ordered yet Since he's reckless but wrecks less when he's courting it's A sport, you see a ticket's his master trophy in- Deed endorsing his Porsche-speed matrimony down master row and she's Driven to this racer who makes her en- Force things, they later make her take her lead like lead's erasing then vanishing Banished from whatever it is they're drinking and it's cleaned Running from the pitcher as if it's her fantasy Love who's the catcher who has her and Now you see It's not lack-lusting but luck-lasting because lastly Down the street Is where I swear we're running faster from crashing, finally Into this dreamcatcher's hazard Our dreamcatcher's hazard Oh have you heard It's absurd that the whip cracked Yeah the Porsche was hacked baby transformed back in two and back into a nat- Ural rural state where the horse power level was more morally sta- Ble biblically faith- Ful foolishly a- Ble but yeah we take over whatever we face-off and baby we're faster so we'll have to chase after our Dreamcatcher's hazard and That dreamcatcher's hazard's a A madness that is learned And it's absurd So say the mattress is glowing it's holy Matrimony, so don't look lonely it's only Master Roshi, to say to chase your dreams It's you and me be- Cause for you my blood is flowing For you my blood is glowing For you this blood is flowing And too the flood is blowing It's true our love is growing
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May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
Dreamcatcher's Hazard
Fiat lux and Then I stand and see how it looks out on Gnothi seauton psychologies of a naughty automaton he is Out speeding on the autobahn while she is Now sleeping on futons in peace it's Not pieces that need to be re-ordered yet Since he's reckless but wrecks less when he's courting it's A sport, you see a ticket's his master trophy in- Deed endorsing his Porsche-speed matrimony down master row and she's Driven to this racer who makes her en- Force things, they later make her take her lead like lead's erasing then vanishing Banished from whatever it is they're drinking and it's cleaned Running from the pitcher as if it's her fantasy Love who's the catcher who has her and Now you see It's not lack-lusting but luck-lasting because lastly Down the street Is where I swear we're running faster from crashing, finally Into this dreamcatcher's hazard Our dreamcatcher's hazard Oh have you heard It's absurd that the whip cracked Yeah the Porsche was hacked baby transformed back in two and back into a nat- Ural rural state where the horse power level was more morally sta- Ble biblically faith- Ful foolishly a- Ble but yeah we take over whatever we face-off and baby we're faster so we'll have to chase after our Dreamcatcher's hazard and That dreamcatcher's hazard's a A madness that is learned And it's absurd So say the mattress is glowing it's holy Matrimony, so don't look lonely it's only Master Roshi, to say to chase your dreams It's you and me be- Cause for you my blood is flowing For you my blood is glowing For you this blood is flowing And too the flood is blowing It's true our love is growing
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40
Just a wicked peacenik’n quick draw from the Paw Game of Thrones’n the Shah, cRussian bones of the law And still spewing the news like the red dragon’s maw When the baby-skull splitters want nuclear winter Ideal New Cold steel and send Chernobyl shivers Down Roman Republicans’ severed headlines Till there’s no more dead kids on for prophet front lines I’m in exile sharpenin’ [sic]kles in style Pyongyang’n Kuomintang climate denials Erasing their nation-hate racial profiles Outpacing their skinhead disgraces by miles Shell casin’ this place like the Nuremberg trials For Fords sellin’ swastikas stockpile bibles Defiled by Normandy tide genocidals Fresh meat off the boat spreadin’ Plague mercantiles I smile and **** ‘em with kindness Then grind Battle tax in my acid bath Salt Marchin’ prime Because WAR IS THE CRIME I’m the Clown Prince of Rhyme, Level 9 state of mind Like the state of Rakhine The Black Hand before time Runnin’ Africa’s Luciest Sky Diamond mine I’m the ronin alone in The monkey god shrine And my guile’s reprisal’s Versailles treaty signed Strippin’ pride from the Rhine ‘Till your Motherland’s mine Swine
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Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 2:37 AM UTC
Emissary of the Evil Empire
A new start, something fresh. Friends look at you with wide eyes erasing all the previous times you had met with this new time, all from something simple. Something fresh. A haircut. Although going from long flowing wavy strawberry blond hair to dark pixie short brunette colored hair is quite the difference... but it's something fresh. Something new. Something great. Exhilarating. Exciting. Wonderful.
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Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
Haircut
To future conquering civilizations in galaxies far far away . . . don't worry about polluting the air, our smokestacks have shot dirty-bombs into the clouds for centuries, mixing rain drops with the black grime of industrialization, transforming our children's tears into cesspools of sulfuric acid and ddt. We've also drained the bayous and swamps and between you and me don't even bother landing in Africa there isn't suitable drinking water for miles, you see. You can thank years of colonization for that. In fact, you may not want to land on Mondays, Tuesdays, or Thursdays in LA either- on those days the air quality index is 175 and far too unhealthy for any biological organism to survive. But at least you won't die of malnutrition you've got decisions: McDonald's or Burger King choose cholesterol and diabetes are your shock troops. Send them in immediately, there won't be much resistance we've got these things call lazy boys and daytime t.v which have enslaved the population and decreased the distance between fully functioning human beings and mindless apes. Don't worry about bringing weapons we've got those too we've perfected the art of blowing each other away there's not much for you to do. we destroy cities with fire from the sky and our mushroom clouds rise at least ten miles high. And god can't see, there's too much smoke in his eyes and our radiated children die with radiated sighs. While we are on the topic don't worry about us spreading propaganda we've lost the ability to communicate. We've learned books turn a peculiar dark yellow when lighted and burned. And forget erasing history, we've done that too. Our subjugation of native peoples is masked as 'patriotism' under the red, white, and blue. But don't get me wrong, I tell you all of this not to dissuade, please come and attack, please come and invade. Here, I'll even turn on the lights . . .
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Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 9:06 PM UTC
Advice for Future Colonizing Civilizations
To future conquering civilizations in galaxies far far away . . . don't worry about polluting the air, our smokestacks have shot dirty-bombs into the clouds for centuries, mixing rain drops with the black grime of industrialization, transforming our children's tears into cesspools of sulfuric acid and ddt. We've also drained the bayous and swamps and between you and me don't even bother landing in Africa there isn't suitable drinking water for miles, you see. You can thank years of colonization for that. In fact, you may not want to land on Mondays, Tuesdays, or Thursdays in LA either- on those days the air quality index is 175 and far too unhealthy for any biological organism to survive. But at least you won't die of malnutrition you've got decisions: McDonald's or Burger King choose cholesterol and diabetes are your shock troops. Send them in immediately, there won't be much resistance we've got these things call lazy boys and daytime t.v which have enslaved the population and decreased the distance between fully functioning human beings and mindless apes. Don't worry about bringing weapons we've got those too we've perfected the art of blowing each other away there's not much for you to do. we destroy cities with fire from the sky and our mushroom clouds rise at least ten miles high. And god can't see, there's too much smoke in his eyes and our radiated children die with radiated sighs. While we are on the topic don't worry about us spreading propaganda we've lost the ability to communicate. We've learned books turn a peculiar dark yellow when lighted and burned. And forget erasing history, we've done that too. Our subjugation of native peoples is masked as 'patriotism' under the red, white, and blue. But don't get me wrong, I tell you all of this not to dissuade, please come and attack, please come and invade. Here, I'll even turn on the lights . . .
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64
Summer's warm currents retreat the advancing brisk amber sunsets. Submerging the world under the reign of enduring starry nights. The maples blush as Autumn whispers the gentle lullaby of Winter's sweet breath. Erasing Summer's memory with a crimson brush preparing the golden landscape's long frigid rest. ~~~
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Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
Heralding Autumn
How quiet the night is I say as I loudly tap On my phone Erasing and rewriting Statuses Only to realize You can't be profound on facebook Society has made sure of that. This handy dandy Mini pocket computer Connects me to the world, It assures that never will I Never can I Be alone. Yet as I scroll Through the friends list, The contacts, The snapchat stories, Endless feeds, Its clear I am only one person Out of billions. Barely noticeable. Its hard to be unique When all the clever usernames Have been taken And you don't know How to use emojis.   I do not compute, Nor do I really want to.
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Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 2:15 AM UTC
Tech-tonic
"And in a funny way, the shaving of my, uh, head has been a liberation from, uh, a lot of, uh, stupid vanities really. Uh, it has simplified everything for me, it has opened a lot of doors maybe." - Stephen Malkmus, Jo Jo's Jacket the first layer of skin i shed was the bra rid of the foreign metal sculptor producing a deep rift between skin my third eye, swallowing gazes rid of my **** , my ***** , my rack replaced with sacks of fat and nerve and milk ducts hanging, existing, for no one else not even myself the second layer of skin was the painting of the face the concealing and erasing of imperfections, the lines of laughter of sorrow of life redirecting attention and importance to the bow and symmetry of the lip no longer did i have to put myself on in the morning i woke up as i was, as i needed to be, bare and uninhibited my skin now breathed, and for no one else not even myself and then i grew another layer of skin, made of dank tangles to protect my age, i stopped shaving the years i'd walked this earth, shedding my womanhood the skin grew to my armpits, little tufts of sweaty, odorous mother nature dozing in a fleshy convex nest and to my legs, were the tangles wrapped around my ankles preventing the spreading of the legs for every life for not every life wanted what was not tame and what was not tame no longer wanted to be. my body did not conform, for it was not brought into this world to be consumed for the pleasure of others it exists for no one else, not even myself and as i was engulfed in this hairy wonder of my own body i shed the last layer, the shaving of the head my brain, my being breathed porous and exposed vulnerable to weather and whispers but i was all at once naked and calm, having finally peeled away the layers of ***** over-sexualization and constrained femininity that had molded this meat sack that serves me, a bundle of circuitry and solution balancing and bobbing on the neck for i exist for no one else, only myself
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Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 10:48 AM UTC
Mae Mae's Jacket
"And in a funny way, the shaving of my, uh, head has been a liberation from, uh, a lot of, uh, stupid vanities really. Uh, it has simplified everything for me, it has opened a lot of doors maybe." - Stephen Malkmus, Jo Jo's Jacket the first layer of skin i shed was the bra rid of the foreign metal sculptor producing a deep rift between skin my third eye, swallowing gazes rid of my **** , my ***** , my rack replaced with sacks of fat and nerve and milk ducts hanging, existing, for no one else not even myself the second layer of skin was the painting of the face the concealing and erasing of imperfections, the lines of laughter of sorrow of life redirecting attention and importance to the bow and symmetry of the lip no longer did i have to put myself on in the morning i woke up as i was, as i needed to be, bare and uninhibited my skin now breathed, and for no one else not even myself and then i grew another layer of skin, made of dank tangles to protect my age, i stopped shaving the years i'd walked this earth, shedding my womanhood the skin grew to my armpits, little tufts of sweaty, odorous mother nature dozing in a fleshy convex nest and to my legs, were the tangles wrapped around my ankles preventing the spreading of the legs for every life for not every life wanted what was not tame and what was not tame no longer wanted to be. my body did not conform, for it was not brought into this world to be consumed for the pleasure of others it exists for no one else, not even myself and as i was engulfed in this hairy wonder of my own body i shed the last layer, the shaving of the head my brain, my being breathed porous and exposed vulnerable to weather and whispers but i was all at once naked and calm, having finally peeled away the layers of ***** over-sexualization and constrained femininity that had molded this meat sack that serves me, a bundle of circuitry and solution balancing and bobbing on the neck for i exist for no one else, only myself
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40
-lights out- fall, hands a-clasped, into instantaneous ecstasy like a shot of ****** or morphine, the gland inside of my brain discharging the good glad fluid (Holy Fluid) as i hap-down and hold all my body parts down to a deadstop trance-Healing all my sicknesses-erasing all-not even the shred of a 'I-hope-you' or a Loony Balloon left in it, but the mind blank, serene, thoughtless. When a thought comes a-springing from afar with its held- forth figure of image, you spoof it out, you spuff it off, you fake it, and it fades, and thought never comes-and with joy you realize for the first time 'thinking's just like not thinking- So I don't have to think any more'
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8.2k
How to Meditate
I've been telling my therapist about you. I've been trying to sleep, yet all that fills my head is you and her. You talking to her. A filthy wreck. I feel sorry for her. Me working into the early hours of the morning, watching a sunrise on the long drive back, me wanting to get home to you. You getting involved with her while I'm gone. You inviting her to the bar. Let me make you a drink. You could be wiping her lipstick away before I return, erasing her taste from your lips. I bet it's disgusting. I thought you hated dreadlocks. I've been going over and over in my head if this is what I'm worth. I know I'm not a looker.. My hair is messy, my clothes are ripped, I'm all marked up from the past. I thought my personality shone through that though. Sometimes though, I guess that's not enough. What hole do you need to fill? Please tell me. Please, oh please tell me why you knocked me down. Why am I not enough. I've been crying a little each day, then pulling it back together. I've been trying to still be that stone wall I always am throughout this horrible pain. I smell like cigarettes, you smell like lies. I've been telling my therapist about you.
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Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 11:06 AM UTC
Forgiving, Not Forgetting
first I smell myself. the deep bass tonality of my musk, hot, creamy, sweetness unique, of coffee and creamy, my owned sweat oiled secretions massaged into her skin emplaced by vigorous parts rubbing and tongue caressing, under the fading shadows of my glancing, desirous admirings then I smell herself. sinking sunset glimpses of last nights parfume parfait, scattered in random strategic locations architecturally planned, some flavors come over me like modest waves, others spelunking found in crevices, cracks and caves, where humans tread in guileless search of guiltless pleasure then I smell our sharings. lemon and thyme, paprika, sea salt and pepper, a basted rub laid upon animal skin consuming, and consumed, the vinaigrette balsamic and California yellow raisins, pine nuts, decorating leaves of red soil spinach and spicy arugula, word salads, so miraculously ingenious, you swear off eating flesh then I smell our combinations. the air conditioned atmosphere that blends us properly chilled, the olive oils pressed from two colored differing skins, the mortal and pestle finely grinding our own fresh crumbled dirt, appearing in places where dirt is wet panko crumbs encrusting us, our combined liquidity, shaken and stirred, drying in martini tandem it is 8:17am and this recipe of reciprocity, at its most pungent peaking, for soon raining waterfalls of potable city water and the sophistry of French soap, the pseudoscience of modern chemical shampoo, together erasing, scrubbing away this poems aromatherapy tapestry, your perplexed complexing nostrils will mock you once more, for ever disbelieving, thinking you could no longer write of only love poetry that crested high above the trite Friday, March 29 2019
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Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 8:40 AM UTC
The Aroma of Us
first I smell myself. the deep bass tonality of my musk, hot, creamy, sweetness unique, of coffee and creamy, my owned sweat oiled secretions massaged into her skin emplaced by vigorous parts rubbing and tongue caressing, under the fading shadows of my glancing, desirous admirings then I smell herself. sinking sunset glimpses of last nights parfume parfait, scattered in random strategic locations architecturally planned, some flavors come over me like modest waves, others spelunking found in crevices, cracks and caves, where humans tread in guileless search of guiltless pleasure then I smell our sharings. lemon and thyme, paprika, sea salt and pepper, a basted rub laid upon animal skin consuming, and consumed, the vinaigrette balsamic and California yellow raisins, pine nuts, decorating leaves of red soil spinach and spicy arugula, word salads, so miraculously ingenious, you swear off eating flesh then I smell our combinations. the air conditioned atmosphere that blends us properly chilled, the olive oils pressed from two colored differing skins, the mortal and pestle finely grinding our own fresh crumbled dirt, appearing in places where dirt is wet panko crumbs encrusting us, our combined liquidity, shaken and stirred, drying in martini tandem it is 8:17am and this recipe of reciprocity, at its most pungent peaking, for soon raining waterfalls of potable city water and the sophistry of French soap, the pseudoscience of modern chemical shampoo, together erasing, scrubbing away this poems aromatherapy tapestry, your perplexed complexing nostrils will mock you once more, for ever disbelieving, thinking you could no longer write of only love poetry that crested high above the trite Friday, March 29 2019
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34
Wake Up Wretched World, I assert my Indigenous heritage I self identify With the ancestors of my continent Identity afraid to articulate Culture, unknowingly belonging to me Cycle of shame now shattered Product of love, hatred, lust, and desire europeans plundering my mother Latin America In chaos and violence, my skin's pigment Has been engineered through the mestizaje Of my Indigenous forefathers How could I not forget my lineage When the historical legacy of modernization Has been to massacre the consciousness Of where my people really come from Erasing indigenous pride Making Paisano and Indio Synonymous with poverty and alienation Insulting the humbleness State of hunger you've left us in Original lineage within me disturbed So you push me to ambiguity and embarrassment Not white, not indigenous? Pure indigenous brothers and sisters silenced Not an exploitable consumerist market, not in your campaigns Not benefactors of your philanthropic development tactics Bodies too costly to abuse, no reason to bring them Into the neoliberal multinational corporate circuit Constantly driving them off productive land Because they choose to assert their identity Live in collective communes, not owing you nothing Waiting for them to make barren lands productive So you can take those lands too Not capturing an obscure history, these are not colonial times This is the legacy of the european presence entering mother Latin America 21st century still defiling Indigenous cultures to civilize and modernize
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Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
Indigenous (Abducted Consciousness)
Wake Up Wretched World, I assert my Indigenous heritage I self identify With the ancestors of my continent Identity afraid to articulate Culture, unknowingly belonging to me Cycle of shame now shattered Product of love, hatred, lust, and desire europeans plundering my mother Latin America In chaos and violence, my skin's pigment Has been engineered through the mestizaje Of my Indigenous forefathers How could I not forget my lineage When the historical legacy of modernization Has been to massacre the consciousness Of where my people really come from Erasing indigenous pride Making Paisano and Indio Synonymous with poverty and alienation Insulting the humbleness State of hunger you've left us in Original lineage within me disturbed So you push me to ambiguity and embarrassment Not white, not indigenous? Pure indigenous brothers and sisters silenced Not an exploitable consumerist market, not in your campaigns Not benefactors of your philanthropic development tactics Bodies too costly to abuse, no reason to bring them Into the neoliberal multinational corporate circuit Constantly driving them off productive land Because they choose to assert their identity Live in collective communes, not owing you nothing Waiting for them to make barren lands productive So you can take those lands too Not capturing an obscure history, these are not colonial times This is the legacy of the european presence entering mother Latin America 21st century still defiling Indigenous cultures to civilize and modernize
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37
I know there are footprints in the sand as I walk...I just choose not to look back. The tide will come and wash them away...erasing where I've walked, as I start a new path. A new journey. One that constructs infinite golden dreams with so much belief in happiness & imagination...enhancing our minds through blissful thinking, supporting the art of insanity, those crazy enough to paint love & passion in their destination. As we continue to make new footprints in the sand, the ocean of memories past continues to wash them away. I know I have so many more footprints to make ahead of me...I know I have more memories that will eventually all wash away.
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Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
"Footprints"
She bloomed in the blackness of the night on the soundless lake water in the timeless space. She held a bright white light for the other creatures for the moon and the stars, for the birds and the squirrels. She shined. She shined erasing the darkness of those hearts the sorrow , the tears and the cries A true sun in the sunless sky. But soon she will disappear.. as the night ends. she looks down at her diminished image Her black eyes fulled of misery *"Oh heart !" " Can I bare your burden ?" , she said, "Oh heart !" " behind light , there is darkness and behind darkness there is light." "Oh heart !" " your wounds , your sadness and bleakness , how can I heal it?"* As she laments crystals, vanished in the brightness of  heavens , in the brightness of the blue .
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Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 5:49 PM UTC
A swan
I guess I'm ready for this Signed the papers with my tears Didn't think it would hurt After all these years Friends now, like we never were But erasing your name from mine Even though I'm with someone else I still think "what if we turned back time?" You tell me you miss me But you didn't want me when I was there The saying is true, "you don't know what you got till it's gone" Yet back then you couldn't bring yourself to care Our house just wasn't a home You were there but I was all alone You worked all day, then with her all night You never even answered your phone Now I'm loved and adored He holds me every night Kisses me on my forehead Tells me everything is all right As soon as the paperwork is through I'm marrying him after divorcing you Love was a game I never thought I'd win- But I did, and my prize is him.
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Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
To My (Ex) Husband
Drove through snowstorms over icy roads Warmed by the fire of my love for you Following a lifeline of energy Thought it led to your heart, warm and true But there was only burning pain as you pushed me back Erasing all the joy I ever knew Signs were there that it was a trap But the mine exploding in my face was my first clue
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Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 12:35 AM UTC
Cold Hard Diamond Heart
A rapid flowing thought, pampered easily into a worry. Anxiety builds within moments - from shameful musing. Bubbling champagne coursing through veins; hidden under ghostly white skin. A simple life based off a well placed lie, unravels like a fraying quilt. Could you forget as easily; as you could forgive? Erasing a memory. Cleaning the façade of our blood from the soaked table. Tablets and tomb, both alike, soaked in the redden water of my long forgotten innocence. I am sorry for the lies I've told through our story. I am sorry for my secrets kept,  locked firmly, behind close doors. But I am not sorry for loving you truly, body and soul. So cast me out, Send me away.   But know my leaving is nothing but me, showing my love for you. All for the love of you.
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Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
All for the love of you
A dream once was had-- for two to be equal, For this is the land of the free, Free for you; free for me. Often we hide our faces, as if we were the ones shamed. Instead of standing up with another, Repelling awful names. Silence has a power, often more than sound. Silence tunes your true voice, Silence shakes the ground. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. Young students go to school, all shades of different skin. We all threw rocks and names, Wanting equality was their sin. Did it matter? Their race was who they were. A few rose voices, Others’ silences were fists furled. What does it matter, of what color their skin? Here comes another battle. Here it comes again. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. If one was gay, would he not be a being? Should you let others mock? Does silence stop the grieving? No, the pain is still there, still loud. The silence is louder. Silence is all around. The names, the hate, all can be repressed. Silence is the fermata. Silence has the stress. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. What is the solution, to this lack of sound? Simple. Make it loud. A word of hope, ringing upon new ears. A word of sympathy, Erasing all the fear. A smile, a hug, a song, a dream, All to be had, All to be seen. Shout against repression, against hate. For we are all equal, All the same final fate. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. Stand together, as one. Make the stand. Stop silence, create music, Ring it through the land. With your words create harmony, create rhyme. Create thirds and fifths, Stronger than the flow of time. Why must we stand alone? Aren’t we all brothers? Did our ancestors fight? Protecting our dear mother? Hand in hand we’ll rise, voices speak as one. Cruelness and evil gone, Silence on the run. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. If we do not help each other, then who will assist? Together we will rise, Or fall together into the abyss. Gay or straight, or be it black or white, Whether you believe in god, We’re all human, right? We all feel, we all hear and see. We can all make words, We all breathe. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. So why must we be made different, called by our opinions or race? Why must we be judged, Simply by our face? No more, I shout. No more the hate. No more discrimination. This is our fate. No more injustice, social and the silence. No more acts of anger. No more senseless violence. Let brothers protect brothers, let friends be friends, For we are only human. The same mortal end. Let sisters love their sisters, let strangers be strangers no more. For we are only human. Our heart is our core. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. I will stand alone, if that is what it takes. I will raise my voice, Singing with quick haste. I will be the difference, the smile to the weak. I will help protect, Helping shield the meek. I will celebrate the differences, that make you and me. I will turn the lock, My voice will be the key. Soon my friends will join, creating a choir of light, Singing against the hate, Harmonies strike the night. Silence will not be my tool, silence is not my friend. I will make my voice count. I will make this hate end. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead.
0
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 8:54 PM UTC
Silence Marks the Dead
A dream once was had-- for two to be equal, For this is the land of the free, Free for you; free for me. Often we hide our faces, as if we were the ones shamed. Instead of standing up with another, Repelling awful names. Silence has a power, often more than sound. Silence tunes your true voice, Silence shakes the ground. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. Young students go to school, all shades of different skin. We all threw rocks and names, Wanting equality was their sin. Did it matter? Their race was who they were. A few rose voices, Others’ silences were fists furled. What does it matter, of what color their skin? Here comes another battle. Here it comes again. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. If one was gay, would he not be a being? Should you let others mock? Does silence stop the grieving? No, the pain is still there, still loud. The silence is louder. Silence is all around. The names, the hate, all can be repressed. Silence is the fermata. Silence has the stress. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. What is the solution, to this lack of sound? Simple. Make it loud. A word of hope, ringing upon new ears. A word of sympathy, Erasing all the fear. A smile, a hug, a song, a dream, All to be had, All to be seen. Shout against repression, against hate. For we are all equal, All the same final fate. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. Stand together, as one. Make the stand. Stop silence, create music, Ring it through the land. With your words create harmony, create rhyme. Create thirds and fifths, Stronger than the flow of time. Why must we stand alone? Aren’t we all brothers? Did our ancestors fight? Protecting our dear mother? Hand in hand we’ll rise, voices speak as one. Cruelness and evil gone, Silence on the run. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. If we do not help each other, then who will assist? Together we will rise, Or fall together into the abyss. Gay or straight, or be it black or white, Whether you believe in god, We’re all human, right? We all feel, we all hear and see. We can all make words, We all breathe. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. So why must we be made different, called by our opinions or race? Why must we be judged, Simply by our face? No more, I shout. No more the hate. No more discrimination. This is our fate. No more injustice, social and the silence. No more acts of anger. No more senseless violence. Let brothers protect brothers, let friends be friends, For we are only human. The same mortal end. Let sisters love their sisters, let strangers be strangers no more. For we are only human. Our heart is our core. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead. I will stand alone, if that is what it takes. I will raise my voice, Singing with quick haste. I will be the difference, the smile to the weak. I will help protect, Helping shield the meek. I will celebrate the differences, that make you and me. I will turn the lock, My voice will be the key. Soon my friends will join, creating a choir of light, Singing against the hate, Harmonies strike the night. Silence will not be my tool, silence is not my friend. I will make my voice count. I will make this hate end. Silence is the foe, when words need to be said. Silence is the killer. Silence marks the dead.
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114
You have stars in your hands and you hold them like grenades. The boats tattooed on your thighs spread out like finger placements of the G major chord. Synthetic drugs make chains tying your first and second fingers around the mechanically rolled paper, canvasing your throat like too much sea water, each breath as rough as the veins in your arms. Close your eyes there’s pollen in the air spread out like imperfections on the skin of an apple. Solar countries keep foreign coins sewed into their cotton sails, they put their money into the navy. You have a comet in your circulatory system leaving bright spots under your skin a reminder to gather the sunshine back under your eyelashes. Hand soap in ketchup packets make bubble bath islands and unhappy lips. You’re as talkative as a poem and as expensive as a poppy with homemade constellations on your back, staining your lumbar muscles with cherries. I can’t wash off your fingerprints with my favourite shampoo. I’ll swim across the Georgia Strait, dodge your dinghies and make a home in handmade ships where I’ll practice erasing scars from my arms and washing the soap from my hair.
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Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 5:04 PM UTC
The sun in your irises
I stopped calling      stopped texting              unfriended you on Facebook (LOL-not even my account....I don't have one) today We've been friends for more than half my life      more than friends from time to time (FWB....BFF....NSA.....OMFG!)             and now it's like neither of us exists Because you had to lie      you had to hold out....lead me on           to cover your *** for doing something I repeatedly told you to do *** So painfully slowly I'm erasing you       deleting you            turning my mind off you (IMY  :-(  XO) TTFN
0
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 8:15 PM UTC
You can't be in my club anymore (second revision)