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Skaidrum Apr 2017
─illustrations on the ceiling

i love the way
the sunlight ripples along his skin
with no complaints

"messiah"* the shadow talks
"of course he is"* i reply
and i resume to orchestrating my love

─little phobias

i wander aimlessly along his windows,
his eyes;
they are gates to afterlives unloved;
they are oceanic shrapnel
sky imprisoned infinities
a lapis point of view-
that i treasure

his heart is drenched
in my soul-
in a sweeter sickness-
in the liquid measure of my steps-
he mentions i'm contagious

i tell him he is my favorite way
to bleed

"september prodigy" the shadow babbles
"why?" i rasp
"sun at long last
kisses away
all the ghosts
harvesting from
the heart of the moon"

and i broke out into stars

─my serendipity

i love the raw
music of our conversations,
and how his voice
undresses me
and my monsters
so delicately
in fabrics of the dark

i love how his laugh
makes all the other planets
look dull;
how his smile
is the first step
to curing the blind

so the blind may know
what i know

"the symphony of seams"

i love how he is the shocking
philosophy
of turning suicide notes
into paper cranes

of picking fights with death
so i may remain

i love the phoenix tucked in his soul
how it defines-
the altitudes-
the limits-
our existence he describes to me

"reincarnation?" the shadow asks
"every morning he wonders" i answer
and the fever invests it's time in me

"what is he to you?" the shadow murmurs

"besides broken flowers,
and ink blots shaped like rain
he is my favorite stairway to heaven.
"
neurosis in my palms
© Copywrite Skaidrum
Maia Vasconez Mar 2016
Met an angel in an alley,
I'm sure all angels snort dust.
She told me she was lost.

I pointed towards the nearest ditch and said,
"Sweetheart, go home"
I want to delete this but its popular
Kody dibble Aug 2018
Proficient in turn
Glass make up
Chandeliers
Night calls to all the....


Growing growing growing,
We are all growing
It's time for a new time
And a crime to want to know that,
Don’t pass without,
A feature or a sort to clause,
Your every action
Deathtime blues
A Sad Alex Nov 2018
I miss our talks so much
Back in the days when we talked
For my days began with your "Good Morning!"
And a smile was drawn on my face with a "Hello!"

But now there is silence
That screams at my ears and pierces my heart
As I lose myself in sadness
And this neverending blackness
For my days ended with your "Good night!"

And to this day I don´t know why you left
Did I made a mistake?
Was I rude in anyway?
Or maybe something more sinister
That I just became boring...
Yet that... I couldn´t handle the pain
Because mistake have amends
And I could change my ways
But I can´t alter myself
What you see is what you get
I´m just a man
Who tried his best, to keep by his side
But my best didn´t cut it
Still you left...

And its strange kind of pain
It doesn´t hurt but it´s there
It´s a hole, a maw, a space
Filled with emptiness
That has your shape
I miss you
I don´t know what more to say
Please return or at least talk to me again
Any word would do for my will to revive
Any word, any word at all
Any word, except ...goodbye"
KiraLili Jan 2016
Your
Inquisitive
Nature
Was
So
Endearing
Until
Your
Questions
Became
Inquisitions
Nothing
Kills
A
Moment
More
Then
A
Thousand
Questions
Curiosity
May
Have
Killed
The
Cat
But
Your
Relentless
Never
Ending
Questions
Killed
Us....
Any response to whatever was said was a question.
Tamara Walker Jul 2018
Teeth and tongue
Tongue and cheek
Wars start people died, and they talk,
Who’s cheating on whom within a myth of a happy ending
Cheek and cheek
Bombs, explosions and people talk,
About the weather and the puppy fluff struck in sewer drains
Our fantasies coming to a steal away the reality of misunderstood celebrities
We play life across a board game
Cross Go pick up Nothing, nothing fun things of un things
Against the knowing we celebrate everything
This is apart of a much larger poem titled Plenty Words. Enjoy!
Lucius Furius Jul 2017
"Janice, I sat next to you in Latin.
We were sophomores.
You were a cheerleader
but smart too.
The excitement was unbearable
(Cicero; the shape of your sweater . . . ).
I asked you to play tennis."
"You did never."
"Yes, I did."
"I suppose I didn't want to get sweaty."
"So then you would have gone with me to a movie?"
"No, I doubt it. . . . I was a brat."
"You were divine.
I wrote a poem for you in Latin."
  
"Lynda, we met at The Three Penny Opera.
You were an usher.
I was a college student; you were in high school."
"Yes, a 'townie'."
"I put my arm around you.
I stroked your hair.
When I tried to kiss you on the forehead our noses collided."
"I was expecting a lip kiss."
"It was a powerful attraction,
but it wouldn't have worked."
"No, we could have made great love,
but it wouldn't have lasted."
  
"Gina, you lived on that 'hippie farm'
at the edge of town.
I was the 'knowing elder',
the one who'd worked on a real farm.
You were so high-energy, so alluring.
Guys flocked to you:
William and Michael; Davy, back home;
sexually involved with all of them."
"Not Michael really."
"You seduced me--
I think you wanted to make William jealous--
not that I was unwilling. . . .
I was, however, impotent."
"I wanted adventure and, yes, I suppose I did want to make
       William jealous."
"Our intimacy awakened me.
I realized what I'd been missing.
Your rejection was devastating."
"I didn't mean to hurt you.
I didn't know you were so fragile."
  
"Carla, I loved you in your apartment.
It was all softness and warmth;
**** carpet, soft bed,
Carole King on the stereo. . . .
We slept together, showered together."
"I really listened to Carole King?"
"Your parents were divorcing.
You didn't have time for a relationship."
"I don't think I was ready."
"Just as I was overcoming my impotency. . . ."
  
"Sarah, I loved you on a camping trip.
We kissed at dusk in the Great Smoky Mountains."
"I remember."
"I felt so connected--
physically, intellectually, emotionally.
You smiled with your whole face, with your whole being.
I wanted to be with you steadily.
You said it wouldn't work.
I guess you were right:
I couldn't love someone who couldn't love me completely.
When we parted,
I cried uncontrollably."
"Yes,
I remember."
Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem:  humanist-art.org/old-site/audio/SoF_037_former.MP3 .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( https://humanist-art.org/scrapsoffaith.htm )
Ronza Jairy Oct 2018
I believe trees represent all our paths in life. The thicker the branch the stronger and more significant a connection or decision. All to the smaller thinner needles-those are the little choices we make that create our everyday and slowly shape our future as a human on this journey. Through heartache, experience and sacrifice, we can become resilient. Take deeper roots/routes and learn from lessons as we stand still, to feel, maybe mourn, continue our growth and the beautiful cycle of rebirth. Change to the power of infinity.

©️Ronza Jairy
Josh Oct 2018
Look at the stars,
They shine so bright,

Look up at night,
Glowing moon light,

Look at the sky,
Darkness with might,

Look into my eyes,
Looking back at yours,

Feel the wild wind,
Breezing past your skin,

Feel our hands holding,
Talk to me, let me in...
Skaidrum Mar 8
——————
i.
a dragon's claw;
merely leftovers of the moon
from last night's revolution,
and he beseeched a god long absent:
"how'd you forget my name in the grave
last week?"


ii.
i break bones like i break bread,
and hell recoils at the rare mention of me;
"—we're using blood for watercolors baby—"
'cause sometimes,
i don't think they understand
my heart.

iii.
god took the world to the doctor,
and asked for a cure he couldn't afford;
for the sun has already set in the palms
of my hands, o' father...
and there can only be so many
bones knitted together in this womb.

iv.
recall that,
reality only reveals itself when it feels
like making a fool out of someone;
and i don't know what stage of grief
i'm in—
or if I'm even in one
at all.

v.
i drink tea with ghosts
every other tuesday,
trying to make sense of it all;
because at some point,
—i'll stop eating bullets for
people's whose eyes
pull triggers.

vi.
mama always did raise me to be a sword,
and i killed when she told me to.
because, you see—
the fragile things die
in the cold, and what i find interesting
is that i've remained;
and ultimately?
it's a beautiful thing.

vii.
and when will i learn?
that mercy is false hope amongst all else, darling,
but enough already;
this poem's got universes full
of emotional baggage.

viii.
you said
you're a dreamer?
great, get in line kid,
you'll get a chance to change the ******* world,
just take a number
—like the rest of us;
but, then again...
"the world has always been ready
to receive you, hasn't it?
"
amen to that,
amen indeed.

© Copywrite Skaidrum
ok okay Jul 2018
The lull of a restless night relieves my senses
It's monotone silence maintains my breath
The cold night breeze enters through an open window
It whispers soft tunes and attempts to put me to sleep
The humming of an exhausted laptop helps me decompress
It distracts me from overthinking and blocks out my stress
As the night goes on it starts to rain
It comforts my senses and cleanses my pain
This time-worn house cracks and creaks
It talks of troubled times and how it came to be
This place I call home proves i’m never alone
And it's always there to support me
3rd poem. Enjoy :)
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
The night sounds of fallen angels
Building stairways back to home
And the radio plays softly
Like a crooner left alone
As the night falls into the velvet shades
And beats down the bedroom door
Of all the visions that come to me
It's of one I'm hoping for

The postman closes up the station
And the buses get cleaned with rain
The asylum rests and barely breathes
As the countryside goes insane
Prophets speak of peace
On the dim hue of TV screens
Of all the moments that seem real
I still wait to watch my dreams

Imposed upon the westward wall
Are the silhouettes of weeping oaks
Swaying in the wind that talks
But they only tell me jokes
Swept beneath the silver stars
Sleeping on blanket clouds
Of all the space above me
I feel as if I can't get out

Headlights and passing trains
Sound like time passing by
Gone are the hearts inside
Like the years beyond my eyes
Sounds from the suburb city
Blow like sirens in my mind
Of all the thoughts within me
Only one freezes time
zebra Aug 2018
The new # 69 hoochi coochi smoochi
rubberized *** robot ****** sucker model 2.0
now available

*******
feelin lonely
tired of spats
credit cards charged up from dates that don't put out
don't like the same restaurants
not ***** to your taste
cant stand the in-laws
you wana live costal, they like Kansas
or
tired of internet dating
and no time for a quickie

when the one you love tells you they aren't in the mood

well bunky
its a brave new world
take a spin in our new model
robot 69, 2.0
they talk
they walk
warm all ova inside and out
scented oiled perfumed *** optional
and flavored
to include
chocolate crunch, vanilla, strawberry
and
phooey
replete with an array of assorted interchangeable
*****, *****'s and butts
extra sturdy for ware and tear
and those little irresistible spankies and whoopins
you just cant live without
plus any colors, or rainbow rubber chasse
gay straight or mix it up how eva
trans trans gender

buy out right
or rent ala cart
deluxe or standard
voice activated

advanced multi lingual
baby talk and hits the high notes
talks back software program
and
NO always means YES
plus
screams
cu cu cu cu cu cummmmming
cooes I love you
**** me now *****
shred me you ****** ******
and many others
in over 50 languages

Other optional features include

age play
ethnic fetish
banjee
blow jobs
tipping the velvet
**** to mouth
salad tossing
*******
spit roast
bare back
chicken head
death grip
*******
mammary *******
*******
Netflix and chill
*******
*******
brown bath
cream pie
*******
motor boating

and the shocker  
two in the pink and one in the stink
adult ***
avalon Sep 2017
sometimes i talk too much about wanting to die
i don't really and thats why it's too much really
but running out of the doctors office crying
was a lot for someone who talks a lot about dying

and talking gets stale like crackers do and
people don't like stale food or stale words
but i haven't been out in a while
and these words are pretty much
all that i've got. i'm sorry.
may May 2018
The person who always
knows when something’s the matter
But doesn’t pry because time will tell

The beauty you hold
doesn’t just come from the outside
But It is flowing within  

You have a kind heart that not everyone
Deserves to see but you show it to anyone
You think needs a pick me up

Everything you’d want in a best friend
Could be found in you
So I worry about you going away

I could never get tired of our late night talks
The ones where we just lay in the dark
Because I can tell you anything and everything

But as it turns out
Everyone has a different definition of forever
And I hate that I’m waiting to see what yours is
I don’t appreciate my best friend as much as I should. When you read this I hope you’re safe and I’ll see you soon :)
Katia Arkasa Aug 2018
I fall in love with married men
With the guy
Who's got a "thing" against marriage
With the guy
Who's killed a guy
   I fall in love
      With men I shouldn't

Because they all told me to
Movies and novels and operas
Sing
In ear-piercing Sopranos
Love stories are tragic!
Some unjust external force must tear us apart
It's our families, timing, war duties, my
Dietary restriction of only drinking
Blood

No one talks about a lover giving up
Because "I don't love you anymore"
Cuts deeper
The wound of fate no longer leaves you bleeding out
And longing
Those words slit new veins open from the inside
Fills your lungs, bursts your egos
Choke on the rejection, die drowning in the loneliness
Wonder how you'll live without him
Wonder what you did
Wonder what you could have done
The blame is on you

This is the difference between melancholic aching
And soul-shattering, identity questioning
Heartbreak

So don't tell me "I saw it coming"
When the next guy I bring to a wedding
Sells ice online or has three kids
I already know
I choose to fall in love with men
Who will destroy themselves
taken
But never leave
L Maughan Sep 2
Smuggled through nocturnal talks
in shredded shadows split in strips
of mother’s bits her pockets kept
the bleak concerns he always kept
his father’s feet and staggered talk
sheets playing out across the strips
of comatose in comicstrips
submerged in worlds he never kept
of garbled words and gargled talks
talk pealed in strips of what he kept.
PsycheSpeaks Aug 2018
I had never stood
in the middle of the street
with headlights
pouring down my back-
and thought about staying there
and thought about the rubber wheels
as they passed over me

I looked and saw the cars approach
standing in the crosswalk frozen
as the lights released me
you were still there-
walking next to me in silence
pointlessly procrastinating
our long goodbye

I was angry and couldn't speak
And you let me leave
Coffee , cake and tea
Where are all the Jonquills
March has come late
Without a yellow promise
Without a breath of warm air

The sea is shallow
Without shells
Just goes on and on
Not even up to my knees

And she talks of heresy
Conjectures , probabilities
On and on and
On and on

Fools make mistakes
Wise men err
To one man  the sun sets
Another rises to the occasion
Cress Rosario May 2014
My home is where I can find my heart
It's where I can express my art
Where I can bury all my worries
And where I can seek my peace

My home is full of morning laughter
Cherish talks and smiles from each other
We will be living here together
Inside my home forever
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