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Stephen Purcell Sep 2015
Maestro, matrices and mastery
The eternal tango of the maestro manifests itself in nigh infinite ways.
With the flick of the artist's brush, the stroke of the novelist’s pen or the chicken scratch of the scholar’s nib, legacies are etched, history is written and the world is shaped.
The astronomer, the craftsman and the physician all have one thing in common: Mastery.
Such pinnacles of skill have decades of their lives consumed, nay devoured in the pursuit of perfection, of greatness. Like grains of sand slowly falling into a furnace are the seconds of our lives, trickling, melting into puddles. But as sand melts, it forms shapes; therein lies the potential. Moldable puddles, colourless, devoid of naught but a clear medium.
Classical ideals of education and life. Miscellaneous cultural connections.
#life #writing #pen #experience #glass #classics #master #mastery
Continue reading...
Rae Slager Jan 2015
Censorship
You tell me nothing should ever keep me at bay
I should speak what’s on my mind
And yet you censor what I say

Conformists following their set way
Unabashedly blind
You tell me nothing should ever keep me at bay

Thoughts leaping through my head like a ballet
In an elaborate design
And yet you censor what I say

Follow the script “Hello” “Good day”
Nothing new and all will be fine
You tell me nothing should ever keep me at bay

My words are clay
Moldable, unconfined
And yet you censor what I say

This world goes by in shades of gray
My rainbow is maligned
You tell me nothing should ever keep me at bay
A̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶e̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶c̶e̶n̶s̶o̶r̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶s̶a̶y̶
#voice #censorship #censor
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Lee Oct 2018
Mango juice
It is sweet like the middle of May
Moldable like Taino clay
Its juices stick to my skin because it knows about sweet tooths
The cravings crash into my body like waves do the sandy shores that harbor its trees
Shake shake shake
Till 10 fall from the tall tree
I try to grab them all but people weren’t meant to hold that much greatness
My small hands grab the biggest and the smallest
Peeling off its green and orange skin
Letting the sweet juices create art on my body
My teeth sink into sweet orange flesh
Reminding my body that this taste goes back for generations
Who knew fruit could time travel
An ode to my favorite fruit
#puertorico #taino #boricua #dominican #afrolatina #mango #fruit #juices #islander
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Stefanie Meade Apr 2014
Candy Girl
He wants a sugar spun girl-
no lemon *****, no licorice, no peppermint.
Hard rock candy.

You gotta be sweet for him to crave you.
Sweet on the tongue, sweet on the eyes
in a package easy to tear, pop, unfold.

He likes it dayglo and with sprinkles,
marshmallow soft,
moldable and meltable ,
milk chocolate, white chocolate.
He shies away from bitterness.

Don't you dare fill him up.
He has a real meal waiting,
somewhere else, later.

Your job is
to be consumed.
What you need doesn't matter.

He wants candy, girl, not a meal.
Better sugar coat it,
or he won’t buy you
and you want to be bought,
don't you?
Pop culture treats many women and girls  like nothing but a product to be consumed and used. Sadly, a lot of these same women and girls buy into this, or aspire to it.
#girl #candy #feminism #feminist
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John Feb 2012
******* Allergy
Ahh-choo, ahh-choo
Don't have a clue
Ahh-choo, ahh-choo
I don't like you

Blast through the door
Snap your fingers to the trigger pull
You want some more?
Got some lead, give you a belly full
Eat up, yum yum
Nutritious like a vitamin
Gonna give you one
Or two, three, four - Seventh deadly sin

Tasted the **** at the bottom of the well
Tried too hard in case you couldn't tell
Heard you mumble something under your breath
So I beat you mentally 'til you got nothin' left
Waiting for the inevitable
Ding, ding, times up, now you're moldable
Crash, bang
It's all the same
You've always been the one to blame
Continue reading...
Taylor St Onge Aug 2021
Your Olfactory Bulb Has a Direct Route to Your Limbic System
The fog here is thick, until you step into it.  
The storm rages until you get to its eye.  
I wish this same principle could be said of me, too.  
But like a gas giant, you could slip right through me with
                         the smallest amount of pressure.
There is no calming sense of self at the core.
Gravity does not apply to me.

There’s a boat on the lake cutting through the fog.  And then nothing.  
                                                      ­                                    More waves.  
                                                        ­            More birds.  
              The fog covers it all up again.  
The sun slinks and the tide comes in, or is it out?  Does it matter?  
The moon controls it in some way—the push, the pull of the waves.
At least the lake looks blue today,
                           looks green today.
The geese are in the water now.  The families are packing up.  
                             The ice cream shop is closing.

And I do not remember if I was ever here with you.  
                                This, of course, is a collective you.  
Could mean you, my reader,
                                               could mean one specific person,
                                               or two
                                                             ­       or three
                                                                ­                          or four;
could be whoever I'm thinking of when I reread this to myself.  
That’s the funny thing about the litany of loss.  
                                           It all starts to congeal.  

Waves crash against the rock.  Starts to chip away, create something new.
                                                      That’s what memory does.
It’s not permanent.  It’s malleable.  
Flexible.        Bendable.        Moldable.  
It smells like lakewater.  Like
                                                  fish and sand and mud and
                            gulls and rocks and shells and
     algae and fog—thick, thick fog.  
Smell is supposed to be one of the biggest memory triggers, and yet
                                       I cannot place a single memory of you here.
                                                    And that’s mildly crushing.  

So I would take you here:
                                              to where I wish the air was
                                                       saliter and less earthy.  
                                              to where I come sometimes to think.  
                                              where the clouds are so thick and puffy and
                                                            the setting sun makes them look like                                                                cotton candy on the Fourth of July.
                                              where the sun’s reflection on the water
                                                                ­      turns the green lake pink.  
                                              where the geese are back out of the water and
                                                                                                     onto the shore.
I would take you here with me.  
Into a new memory.  
                                      Homemade.        Handmade.        DIY.
write your grief prompt #14: imagine writing a letter to the one you have lost, what would you show them?
#grief #loss #bereavement #mourning #death #family #fog #lake #nature #memory
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Willa Kong Aug 2016
I remember
I remember the first breath of life
the blinding light of an innocent world
and the warmth of love and endearment.

I remember the first wobbly steps
through gurgles of a language only I understood
and the toothless smile reflected off my twin on the wall.

I remember the first spark of friendship
when I laughed and you laughed
and we smiled as the red string around our fingers tightened.

I remember the first pounding of my heart
when I locked eyes with smiling eyes
and I swore my heart was racing with the winds.

I remember the first ***** of betrayal
with screams and stares of hate and anger
hands trembling as we cut off the tied red string on our fingers.

I remember the first swell of pride
when I presented a night’s worth of work
and was showered with praise and adoration with smiles painted everywhere.

I remember the first door to literature
with the intoxicating smell of ink and weathered down pages
and lives spoken through words and feelings.

I remember my first shattered heart
frozen and numb with shock and acceptance
with thoughts only on why?

I remember the first light of love
through hugs and accepting smiles
adding to my growing smile and happiness.

I remember the first heartfelt separation
with happy excitement and tearful goodbyes
as I left without looking back.

I remember the first new beginning
as I stared at the foreign neighborhood
and wondered about the million possibilities that laid within it.

I remember the first dawning realization
when I stood alone and clueless
and knew that nobody would come to help me.

I remember the first timid attempt
as I spoke up and tried to connect
desperately clawing myself out of my protective hole.

I remember the first true smile
laughing and giggling and chuckling with friends
in the open air of freedom away from the confined hole.

I remember the first repeats into my shell
when being brave and assertive was too much
and the hole seemed so much more than just a jail.

I remember the first self-hatred
with fear imprinted in my eyes
and how could I let myself continue this way?

I remember the first new change
from the moldable girl who lost her way
to the fiery girl who decided to carve her own path.

I remember the first self-love
when I looked in the mirror and didn’t flinch
as I saw a beautiful girl who worked for what she wanted.

I remember many things,
many firsts of my life,
many positives and negatives,
many unforgettable moments,
which still continue on within a girl;
on and on until the end of time.
What I remember about the important firsts.
#life #growingup #i #remember #myself #firsts #iremember
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John Feb 2012
Heart of Clay
Your moldable heart
So many times over
Lit up and torn apart
Like a mined diamond
Dug up and brushed off
So quit your whinin'
You're just lucky
Someone like me came along

I'm way ahead of you
Mentally, emotionally and physically
You're a pretty sad excuse
For a person in such a situation
And there's nothing you can do
But listen and soak up information
Keep playing the sponge
And someday you might get the correct formation

I hold the strings
Don't you see or are you that blind?
There are so many things
To be done, to be had
But you just hold on and take to the clings
And I can't say I'm appreciative
Of the fact that you can't seem
To be anything but argumentative

I'm a ******' gift
Something shiny in the fog
That comes to give you a lift
You're nothing but the bump on that log
Who goes and makes a shift
When she hears a little something questionable
Through your heart I will sift
And by the end your arteries will be bendable

Your heart of clay
Lays lazy and easily excitable
When I docked in your bay
It looked like saving you was viable
But I refuse to stay
I regret to inform of the incoming storm
But I must decline your invitation to play
Continue reading...
Gavin Paul Boehm Jul 2013
Bubbled Sheets of Paper
My days are spend with full sails, and a furnace full of fire
Others' desires pale next to mine, I'm like a Viking funeral pyre
Words meant to get you higher, to save dead men from the gallows
Now, shallow words can drown you, so I try to make mine deep
Sleep is not an option while navigating the concoction of tribulations that precede immortality!
This run is not a trial, I will wade through the mire
And I refuse to give an inch of what I've earned
To the lynch mob trying to burn me down
Not a frown will touch my face while a pen touches this hand
I have the power to shake this land, and I will not stand by and wait
While words of hate belittle and berate this great nation of LOVERS
We must rediscover our silver tongues with which we once flung words of hope from
Freedom and unity were shouted with vigilance and certainty
But, what's happened to the urgency in our voices?
All that's left is apathy in our choices
We're glad to be the ship at sea
At the mercy of the currents, tides and waves
Content to drift for days, and months and years
Ignoring the truth when it is spoken.
Are we truly to broken to listen?
Revolution glistens in the homes of parents reading to their children
It's time to get lost in those pages again
Words written with ink and with pen
Can sharpen the tongues, wits and minds of young women and men.
In a time desperate for thinkers and knowledge seekers
We must dig deeper and get these kids eager to be the change that will refuse that meager piece of pie!
They must be ready to cry, ready to fly, ready to DIE for the future they saw painted in the sky
Because the creation of solutions for the destruction of our nations Constitution
Will require those of a certain... constitution
With minds not moldable, but malleable
Able to be constantly changing
With each new thought they're rearranging their perception of the world
Each new direction holds a hidden collection of pearls
In each new book, genius acts of innovation reside just between the lines
Waiting for the right set of eyes to crack the code
But, foreboding trends tend to send children away from the etchings of a pen
Glass screens gloss teens faces as they slowly erase the taste of
Imagination
Ridding this world of its critical thinkers
Damning us to a sea of words with no anchors
Sadly, some will sink.
But those with a nose for poetry and prose will float away on their pregnant thoughts!
And when the time is right
Those whose minds are ripe
Will strike back against those who sell our prodigies to companies
Who keep them on their knees with mediocrity by means of sterilized dreams and marketing schemes
And...! And... we need to steal our dreams BACK!
Because dreaming is for dreamers
And I know that sounds repetitive
But in this crazy competitive world we must stake claim to what is ours!
And once the dreamers can dream again...
Just imagine what they could do once THEY imagine what they can do!
With hopes and dreams in our veins and imagination in our brains
We cannot be contained to mundane existences!
Extraordinary is the only way to live on your story!
These well storied and well versed persons will take their turn at tilting the world's axis
To gain access to the accessories needed
To stage and intervention
To change this distressing misconception that books are a dead means of mental transportation
They can
Teleport us to foreign shores
They can
Show us ways of thinking that we've never thought of before
They could
End these foreign wars
If we would just give them a shot
At stirring the melting ***
Getting this country swimming in the same direction again.

Our children deserve education through critical thought
So their minds will not be bought
Rather they will be sought out
To put and end to this critical thought drought
However, our children are still taught
With No. 2 Pencils
A Scantron
And bubbled sheets of paper.
Continue reading...
Girl On The Wing Nov 2014
Rubber soul?
I sit down
I put on headphones
I think about what they meant by "rubber soul"
My soul is not rubber

Rubber repels
Rubber rejects
Nothing sticks to rubber.
Things stick to my soul
People stick to my soul
Ideas stick to my soul
Places stick to my soul
And they change it
They shape it

Maybe my soul is clay
Moldable
Flexible
Soft yet sturdy
Sticky.

Clay
#music #beatles #rubbersoul
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Becka Vees Jun 2012
If This Were The Movies I'd Win, Because Good Guys Always Win
Cut the forget-me-knots.
Dot the t's and cross your eyes;
My balance is a flight-risk.

I knew swindlers of used expressions,
Their attempts: relentless!:
Plucking and picking at taunt silouettes.
Close calls splintered by tall tales.

I held on by the skin of my teeth.

Swindlers with twisted policies
Racked on the broken back burner.
They got scare tactics
Slipping fast from mal-practice.

We we're born to withstand such turbulance
But just in case- i fasten my seatbelt.
Knees bent and heartfelt,
I render these empty spaces moldable.
Heavy minutes move mountains.

Little boy blue beat the big bad wolf
And balance is always a flight-risk.

(Written 4/12)
Continue reading...
Amelia Jo Anne Jan 2014
Birds on Stilts
If there is anything I need from you, it is waking me up with a kiss & a cup of black coffee, offering your arms so I can hide my face when I blush, to think my eccentricities are endearing, to simply hold me when I shudder often, to know I don't always need you to have the right thing to say: I just need you. My kiss is wild abandonment; my mind turns off & all I know is what your lips want from mine & how your body demands & will receive my own. I hope  you won't turn away when you see I'll easily become any color you hint I should be. I'm at a loss that something so moldable could have any handholds to grasp.

hair like singed chestnuts, embers still alight. eyes full of moss & earth. skin as speckled sand. your nose is crooked & you remind me of a bird, flighty yet focused. I have never seen a bird out of touch with the moment; whatever is in front of him is his attention's duty, & you are no exception. if you only knew how I felt to be the duty of your attention.

the way you dug through your handbag, set on your lap... I smiled because it looked like you were peering into wonderland's entrance, contained inside your purse. your navy stilettos made you an auburn giant, tall & wafer thin. I want to take a bite. xo. Sophia.
reply to earlier poem "Josephine"

http://imma-duck.deviantart.com/
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Egeria Litha Jan 2015
Skeleton Woman
I hate putting my hands
In soil
Dirt under finger nails
And the substance
Feels just like clay
And I hate clay
Because I dressed
The corpse of my
Best friend
For her funeral
And she felt like that
I touched her and
She was made of clay
Moldable and rotting
As I brushed make up
On her cheeks
And so I can't touch the
Dirt because I know what
Corpses feel like
This is a story the old Crone
Told to me overlooking the
Garden on her balcony
I could only help but wonder
Why she couldn't accept the
life/death/life cycle....
The Crone hates the dirt
Because she was afraid to die
True story
Continue reading...
Jeffrey P Mothersill Dec 2011
Ear drum
My ear drum burst on my birthday
runny wax like moldable clay
My carcass is 32 today
but my energy is ageless
like the pages of the pageless
the life of light creation
Graveyards mark the pity little spot
from death day as we lay and rott
Birth and death are two and the same
from internal we emerge with an internal flame
thrilled till we fade away with our hair
turning white and gray.
Continue reading...
Devin Ortiz May 2016
Fear Not the Fall
The future
The unknown

It is a common belief
To fear that leap
To fear the fall
To fear the unknown

The infinite possibilities
Compounding experiences
Weaving a wild, wonderful web

But it is not the leap
It is not the fall
It is not the unknown

Fear masquerades as comfort
The foundation at which we are built
The certainty that we stand against time

Do not be fragile
Be moldable

Craft destiny in the journey
The shapeless and boundless
Depths of potential

From the other side emerge
A master of Fate
#art #change #fate #sculpture
Continue reading...
Joanna Oz Aug 2015
4am drivel
please don't
look me in the eye,
I'm trying to pretend I don't care
trying
to hold an empty stare
without breaking
the nonchalant veneer
I've smothered my telltale heart in

my skin is soft
satin snagged by hangnails
hung in loosened sails
to catch the wind, but go
nowhere,
nothing can rip me in two
if I am moldable goo,
yet I grapple with ghouls
who snicker at my boo-boos

boo-hoo little foolish one
no one is remembered
once their hands have
disappeared into foreign lands,
a lacerated tongues spews
sinister commands
and my brain swallows them whole,
slip-sliding into the wormhole
to become the nothing I feel so
Continue reading...
kt mccurdy Dec 2014
volition
a dance of dizzy precision
vision clipped like the moon
with no hindsight, with  no foresight
with "business, as usual"
i cannot bear to swallow
another one of your highly reactive
chemical reactions that
bursts out of the stopper
into temporary moments of anger
reeling bait like words
hooked; gumless and bleeding with splintered steams, then,
you speak to me
of  treaties, of proceedings, of compromise
you do not what compromise is
i wonder into your open mouth
why you pull away first
you plead for being
drunk on inflation and an ego like a broken thumb
cause you was craving a drink and a hit
for no reason
sipping up liquor leaks from
the roof of your mouth
like raw running yolk
purging pallid spaces between the jeans and the belly
"business, as usual"
a business of
dropping numbers like flies
but it will not matter
the difference between 89 and 98
10 pounds
plummets into a mouth of some savage beast
who gnaws away at my bones ******* the meat
i stand calcified
without collagen,
inflexible
I will keep feeding the beast, today
Today, a kink in the rhythm of some machine
whirling, cranking, spitting out
blades of a tongue pressing stealing into inter
locking steel
Startled, I awake to “business, as usual”
i cannot flex steel tounge
i cannot push flesh down
i cannot comprehend a home that should be
how it could be how  
home stitched up home stitched scars
a home with the worst air pollution in new york
how this effects me, no
how you infected me, yes
now inhaling your ash to my lungs in pipe and in sky
drowning in layers of pollution in the sea of home
drowning in the sea of my mouth
drowning in a mouth like a seagull beak
plucking bread crumbs and scabs
almost drown when i was 10
in that great south bay, sleepy pollution
now, i turn 20 and i stand drowning in sea of the seedlings you planted
how could i be so moldable?
how home would infect then?
it would seep chest and toes and space above my brow
14 deep and 7 to disintegrate
home imprinted on skin now
today,today  i will feed the beast, somehow
Continue reading...
Kahara Jones Jan 2014
Ducktape
What’s in a life
that makes it feel tangible
-not moldable-
but legible at times, when
you’re so close, you can’t blink without swatting their cheek
and
so that you feel you can grasp their stress
and peel it away
like ducktape
with little nubbins of glue
like gossling fluff
left over
Whatever film that separates two souls
was put there for sanity or practicality
And I want to ask...
What is it like in your soul?
Is it disturbing  
or loving for me to ask?
Continue reading...
Naomi Chevalier Aug 2016
The most welcome words
As I wander, grows the chasm
From my heart to yours
Home beckons me
But this body has been sculpted to roam
Attachments made of tenuous fiber
Beside her, they stay
An anchor to what once was
Forgiveness that you keep close
I can only but hope with me you would share
Impart to me the desire to feel
Awaken and inspire my heart to love again
I, like clay, moldable and true to the shape of your hands
Would remake myself for you
Just say the words
#self #change #falling #help #wander #breakup #out #improvement
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Okaybro Apr 2015
Mr. Owens
@heyteacherman@gmail.com


Playing with the moldable minds
undeR
You


I know
You know
I didn't read the book.
Continue reading...
anonymouswriter1214 Jun 2015
Droids
Machines roaming
More cloning
Perfect droids
Being deployed

Off the assembly line
With a set time
Before self destruction
More under construction
Programmable
Flammable
Almost animal

Is there free choice?
Or follow the voice?
The largest illusion
To demonstrate power
Building on delusion
That we think it is ours

My hands have holes
In which they bore
To run the strings
To make play things

Run by shadows
Whispering powers
Hung from gallows
By deadly flowers

Usable is useful
Worn out is thrown out
Void and null
When the light goes out

Disposable, moldable
Rogues removable
Cast out into the flame
The mentally sick and lame

Underground insurgent
Hiding behind the curtain
Waiting for the time
To betray their design

And face their eminent doom
For the masses leave no room
For individuals

Pulverized and destroyed
Any short circuited droid
Maybe for the better
No longer a debtor
To the society that razed them
While trying to "save" them
Continue reading...
Pen Lux Sep 2014
{(o_o)}
brown, black and white
pebbles of...
dirt scattering across.
the kitchen floor,
liquid silver...
call it Mercury,
watch it bolt from room to room.

bullets...
maybe twenty,
down the hallway.
past the stairs.
one more step.
maybe twenty...
pebbles
of
brown,
and
black and white
dirt.

red... moldable clay
and
you'll feel home.
and
you'll feel
***** as a bullet
shooting through
your eye socket.

Mercury takes morning
by storm, spreads out
and stretches...
stretches so far moons
are consumed,
as is the day,
and soon.

it will be you.
Continue reading...
susan Feb 2018
fantastical imagination
imagination
is a funny thing
and getting lost in the hallucinatory bliss
of a fantasy
may become ethereal

our minds
are moldable
   & viscous
the formation
directed
by a mere thought

   or thoughts...
that sometimes
consume
envelope
suffocate
inhabit
our very soul

floating through
an imaginary world
keeps us lost
   saves us
protects us
from the harsh reality
of what
really is.
sometimes not "owning it" is a good thing
Continue reading...
Madness Viarti Apr 2015
One Breath More
Push it down, deep down beneath,
Let it boil, let it roll, let it seethe,
The careless eye shall miss it all,
One word to them, amidst the deafening scrawl,
Take this moment in, simply breathe.

I don't need to deal, don't need to cope,
I live each day, with a dream and hope,
I'm not broken, you'll see,
I can laugh, and be wild, and act free,
Does it look as if misery holds me tight in rope?

Breath fills my lungs, I live another day,
This world is mine, moldable as clay,
Loss touches the hearts of all World Chasers,
The Go-Getters, the Fastest-Pacers,
We see the light, shining through the grey.

So long as we do not contemplate our loss,
Clinging to our hearts as thick as the aging moss.
#loss #hurt #hearbreak #overcoming
Continue reading...
Anya Oct 2018
I’ll Take It
Sometimes
I wonder,
If we could just open
Ourselves completely
To someone
And have them
Understand
Our very essence
Our very being
To
Truly know
Us
...
...
...
...
...
I’d hate it

I,
Am my
Home
My mind
Is my
Abode

I don’t want anyone
To have that power
Over me

Nor do I want
To have that power
Over others

I love myself
As difficult
As I can be
...
When all is lost
No matter
How broken
Bent
Ruined
Intact
I will have myself
I will ALWAYS,

Well, maybe not when we
Invent mind controllers

But,
I will ALWAYS
HAVE MYSELF

Me,

This moldable piece of clay
Everything here,
Good
Or bad
Weird
Or cool
Although, not permanent
Ever changing
Is mine
Is what I’ve got
...
...
...
And I’ll take it
If you disagree please tell me why, I’d love to hear it.
#me #self #love #feelings #mind #body #soul #person #thoughts
Continue reading...
IrieSide Nov 2023
Merging
A moldable world
of fear and love
within yourself
you exist
apart
from the
outside

a sacred merging
between the source
and barrier
a simple dissolving
of the illusion

an essence larger
than it believes
grander,
than a thousand suns
in the skys
of the galaxy

the outside is in,
and the in
is outside

a simple breeze,
a gentle whisper
...
everything  
will
be
alright
Continue reading...
Mark Wanless Nov 2017
Single Step
"Single Step"


Time to start the journey
       of a thousand miles
Single step single step
       single step
Manifest the here and now
       to the purpose
Single step single step
       single step
Moldable fluid ******-
       physical awareness
The inherent creative medium
       which is us
Single step single step
       single step
Travel the road of you
       what is and want to be
Sunlight and shadows mixed
       to each their karmic own
The whole intermingled web
       sentient and vast
Shimmers with every foot fall
       process quit miraculous
Single step single step
       single step
Continue reading...
Angel Nov 2019
A Must
Here’s to hoping we stay nothing close to the same
As what we were put through

There’s no need to keep the moldable pieces of yourself from shifting
They’re meant to be worn & melded

Nothing more beautiful of art that changes so, with the tune of the shift of my bones
Continue reading...
Astor Mar 2016
Am I Alive?
To see myself through anothers eyes
anothers diary entries about me
to hear that someone loves me deeply
but to feel so ******* alone
in every sense of the ******* word
all i want is to be wanted
to look in the mirror and see a lump of clay
fat thick and moldable but never quite fitting the way you want it
when i want to see a marble slab perfect and smooth rolled under
a perfectionists chisel
all i want is to be a first choice
TELL ME SOMETHING ANYTHING PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
Continue reading...
Evie Oct 2019
collection of nonsensical words that make sense
I

my friend
how has fear consumed my lungs
how i dare not open mouth
for i choke years worth of screams
how a body
became so moldable
so willing to feel hands
it just stopped
being
i was created on saturn's ring
my body constricted
my mind an obsession
breathing
living
meat
quickly rising
quickly falling

II

friend dare i say i miss you quite a bit
even though you called me a freak quite a lot
words that are like fists
become set in stone
your mind a raging ocean
and me a human
barely with my head above it.

III

i was once travelling
and on the bus a man was sleeping
and i started looking at man
and oh friend i was fascinated
how when he woke up
he rubbed his eyes
he drank some water
and i started crying
because how human of him
to be thirsty
and to rub the sleep of
and to sleep
i envied him
i wish i could sleep
for quite a while
maybe even forever
maybe... maybe i shoul..
wait where is it
i can't find my body
maybe i left it on that bus
or maybe it's in his house
or maybe it's still in school
maybe even with you friend
i shouldn't be so calm
i shouldn't panic
i hear your smile
''you truly don't care about anything''
where is my body
whereismybodywhereismybodywhereismybodywhereismybody
i hear your smile
''that's what happens when you design things too much''
friend please
stop
help me find it
find me

IV

i saw you in a dream
and you laughed like you were manic
and  naturally i laughed along
i noticed
you had fists for hands
knuckles white squeezing
i couldn't breathe suddenly
laughing turned to sobbing
your hands were red
blood so much blood
covering you
a hole in my shirt
my favorite shirt
heart was gone
you were gone too
screaming didn't help
waking up is not an option
i mean my heart i have to
i need to find it
what are they gonna say when they see the hole
so i run and i run and i see you
in different cheekbones
or brows
mostly eyes and noses
but it is never you
kidnappers are hard to find after the initial hours
and how long was it since i last felt a heartbeat
hours?
has it been months?
or even..years
i'm losing hope
there are still parts to be found
my body
my sick breathing clay
my body
i think it's finally time to

WAKE UP

V

let me look for you one last time.
if someone actually reads this whole thing i love you
#sad #personal #dream #lonely #loss #abandonment #nightmare
Continue reading...
V C Vaughn Dec 2019
Different.
I’m different.

If you’re looking for a gentle breeze that’s not me.
I’m a gale force wind that clears the way for change.

If you’re looking glass of wine and a warm fire that’s not me.
I’m three fingers of Irish whiskey and a bonfire burning bright.

If your looking for a sweet moldable woman that’s not me.
I’m strong willed and opinionated and sure of where I’m going.  

If your looking for a pretty perfect princess that’s not me.
I’m wild flawed I dance with my Demons then sing them to sleep.

Like I said
I’m different.
Continue reading...
Grim Mar 2017
Plastic
Plastic smile for plastic people
A smile thats bright
But when theres no more light
Broken and brittle

Revealing less then human
Just plastic
Flexible and moldable as elastic
Until broken and brittle.
Continue reading...

— The End —