Sarah Spang Jun 2015
He told her she was pottery; a vase with grooves and cracks.
The patterns of the history she hid behind her back.

Within his words he layered in- like thread upon a loom-
The sweetest undercurrent to illuminate that gloom.

In certain cultures, he decreed, when pottery is cracked
They aggrandize them with gleaming gold to bring their splendor back

For they believe, with certainty, once damage has been wrought
Those tiny cracks, now filled with light, hold truths that can't be taught.
Alice May 2014
Glitter and gold is the man in the chair
with rings on his fingers
and the hardened harsh stare
blinded by ugliness
wrists chained down by no use
a man with much money
he spends on abuse

the term known as trafficking
familiar I’m sure
he’s never been one for
doing what’s pure
so he lays down his money
flings out his cash
says he’ll pay the full price
for the girl with the mask

just to touch her to feel her
pet her cold body with his
run clammy hands up her scarred legs
clamp her in his ashen fist

little boys too he will willingly harm
because trafficking to him is a sport
no need for alarm
Just cows in the system
of making ends meat.

The poor solemn dancer
the poor saddened soul
the poor battered spirit
angry that they’ve been sold

with dirty feet and scabby legs
they work to feed the king
the end from him they can only beg
And freedom will never ring.
Amelia Owen Apr 2015
I haven't written in a while
Have my words lost their touch?
The gold in my mind has all melted
Though diamonds are growing in its place
All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.
Marci Ace Nov 2015
Feeling like an adult and dreaming like a kid ... "When I get older ... Maybe there might be good in my definition of the word Life"

-Marci
Vicki Apr 2017
We're in the sun and I'm moving from your mouth
to your jeans, we're watching the stars and we're moving
We're going down the green boulevard and we're cruising
you speak Romanian, I speak you, we're going to far
and moving to the beat as one and the wind blows the hair
in my face and I got news for you, I can see you just clearly
as I could before, carefully, barely hanging on and catching movies

I can't keep away from your kiss, back and forth want to feel
the rest of you and all of you can't wait to catch you all alone
we're in the sun and I'm moving from your mouth
to the hole in your heart, tell me how you feel and who you are
you speak barely, your rhythmic breaths tell me all I need to know
waste the day and spend all the time in your pockets, all alone
floating around your head and hanging midair in your palms like
a red balloon
Deepening Wells Nov 2015
Don't be fooled by these jerk offs that you're their gold.
You may actually be gold, but they're burying you in dirt._.
Hannah Jane Call May 2016
If I wear a gold chain
In my hair
Instead of around my neck
Am I gangster?
Stereotypes
Suck.
Ariella Apr 2014
i wait for when
the clocks will stop ticking
so time can take its place
above gold
Wass Apr 2014
The guilt is so great
it's gilt in gold.
It shouldn't be.
But my gilded guilt 
was gilt in gold by me.
A P Taylor Aug 2015
Desire
astounds, by glint of a smile.
Always careful when find,
dream wearing awhile.

In gold
reclaim, mindful of failings.
Gift precious when dare,
love among tailings.
r Jan 2015
She likes an archaeologist
cos he does it in the dirt

and the older she gets
the more he likes to flirt

She likes the way he smells
in a faded work shirt

hard and lean
but not mean
just a little bit assertive

He still let's her roll
her own cigarettes

and handles her gently
like a gold statuette

while they dance
with the shadows
down low

you know.
r ~ 1/29/15

\¥/\
  |       :)
/ \
SøułSurvivør May 2015
etched under my skin
flame roses blister

scars on the palms
of my hands bleed
stigmata thorns

my eyes freeze to crystal
the tears around my neck are
fashioned in lace black obsidian

my lips - the color of amber
and fire - are vows
never broken

my moons are scarlet
my stars are cold
my sun is silver
and beaten GOLD


soulsurvivor
9/16/2014

~~~
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