A Legacy of WisdomYou have scribed your words,A Legacy of Wisdom6 years ago in Open More Like This
wealthy wreaths of wisdom,
on paper never torn or worn.
You have etched your passions
on my brow.
You have left this wallowed world
victorious; eyes resplendent
with the wisdom you wrote and wrought.
Your passions shall echo in my ears
And should I stray into some
sullen storm, or get caught in
the torrents of the monsoon, Ill know
that Lears been there before, and
Ill not swoon.
And if Hades doors open up
before my stranded soul, and scorch
it with the heat of hell, Ill recall that
I am not the first Dantes been down
there as well.
And if on my death-bed I mourn
the life I wasted on wine and stale
chocolate bars, Ill recall Wildes words and
hope that, though long in the gutter, I did
glimpse the stars.
NonexistenceI pray to a God I have never seen,Nonexistence6 years ago in Open More Like This
who lives in a world that has never been,
to save my heart that has never felt,
from eternity's failures, eternity's guilt.
My feet step on grounds no men stepped before,
my lips taste the poison, bitter and sore,
yet it does not kill me,
does that mean,
that I am immortal,
or that I've never been?
I pray to a God that may not exist,
while the iron shackle tears up my wrist,
to tell me the difference of being and not,
to show me the memories that I forgot.
My mind flies to places nobody has reached,
to learn that the stars are nothing but bleached,
spots on the dark, they're not even light,
I think that's 'cause real light brings nothing but fright:
It's bound to discover
all crimes, neatly covered.
I pray to a God because maybe he is,
unlike me and the world,
in them I miss
something to reach.
AnarchyScream the anthem of the anarchist!Anarchy12 years ago in Open More Like This
What is it? Exactly.
I won't tell you; make it up.
Go away. Blow it up.
Burn it down. Deface the town.
But don't give in,
Never -- no.
That's the song we all love so.
Freedom past extremity.
Far away, in my backyard
I own the world; I am a bard.
I wear a beard and shave my head;
All the normals want me dead.
I won't give up; I ramble rave.
You'll never make me behave.
My brother, loser, freak, meek geek
You know-- the beatnick, hippy, punk--
The rock bands my parents debunk--
We treasure what we cannot have:
No allegiance to any flag.
out of Gardenwhat seaout of Garden7 years ago in Open More Like This
how it is welling your eyes a wet mess
where urchins of the ocean will spill to howl their elegy
where mermaids will turn widows
once brine has swallowed whole their sailor babes
stewarding the land instead
is why i never set sail with you
but to lay in gardens, oh
a bed sheet rotten by the ultraviolet
and our laps full of stars
what black soil will pervert your knees there
where moonlight will mirror out from your teeth
to run fanatic toward cosmic space
after bathing in the space among us
where walking air pushes every dust
one of sun-dried butterflies
one of beaten rug with broom
one of honey bees minus harvest
one from sands of human crust
when traced is an orb monster, Jupiter
around your left breast, so that nipple
a blood storm just under the skin
and asking where you sowed the marigolds
is only to hear you choke the words time and water
in the same sentence
to hear you say there will be no rain for a week
while an ocean is
the plasticized quantum theorythe plasticized quantum theory9 years ago in Open More Like This
une voleur honteux
slip of the tongue
in each saturated pore
spectrum rehearses its symphony
crooked whispers of a flute
a glimpse of blue infinitude
quiets the confines of los alamos
¿quién es él? eso piensa
paralysis in the peristalsis
jewel in the vitreous humor
until it watercolors
the poison of psyche
papillae the plagues
oxidizing ash and ember
a quivering effigy
splinters the moon
the mirrored hand exhales
swept the epileptic ceiling
dissolving tendrils of mahogany
detached from the retina
tranquil, the deception
the film frame fades
captured in the mercury
Perspectives of a Hallucino...Comfort. The softness of the basement couch. Misery loves company.Perspectives of a Hallucino...7 years ago in Open More Like This
Trickling through my fingers. Whispering across my face, her disappearing
lips trace across my cheeks. The smell is sweet, but she is rough against
my throat. Her smell isn't so much intoxicating as it is suffocating, yet
the smoke paralyses my senses and touches my soul. Her street name is
undeserving of her effect on me. Forever, she shall be known to me as
Mary-Jane. I will never know her beauty.
Wolf's RainWolf's Rain11 years ago in Open More Like This
Snowflakes fall, blood is in the air,
Covering white figure of pride,
Lying forceless on the ground,
Having no strength to fight with the snow,
Nor even with reality,
Which drifts down from the empty sky,
Where the moon cannot be seen,
Where birds cannot be heard,
At which wolves can only howl.
the god memorandumthe god memorandum10 years ago in Open More Like This
I hear your cry.
It passes through the darkness, filters through the clouds, mingles with starlight, and finds its way to my heart on the path of a sunbeam.
I have anguished over the cry of a hare choked in the noose of a snare, a sparrow tumbled from the nest of its mother, a child thrashing helplessly in a pond, and a son shredding his blood on a cross.
Know that I hear you, also. Be at peace. Be calm.
I bring thee relief for your sorrow for I know its cause ... and its cure.
You weep for all your childhood dreams that have vanished with the years.
You weep for all your self-esteem that has been corrupted by failure.
You weep for all your potential that has been bartered for security.
You weep for all your talent that has been wasted through misuse.
You look upon yourself with disgrace and you turn in terror from the image you see in the pool. Who is this mockery of humanity staring back at you with bloodless eyes of shame?
SuicideSuicide11 years ago in Open More Like This
I'm so sick of suicide
It's everywhere I look
Pictures, and in movies
In poetry and books
I'm so sick of suicide
It's pathetic and it's weak
Blah blah blah so awful
Outlook always bleak
This life's just not worth living
Could they be any more cliché'?
I know that I just can't go on
Isn't that what they say?
Do you live in China
Without freedom's basic choice?
Are you a woman in Afghanistan?
Forbidden to have a voice.
Are you starving now in Africa?
Surrounded by disease
Or under corrupt dictatorship
Forced upon your knees
These people rise to challenges
We cannot comprehend
They live their lives from day to day
And triumph in the end
But daddy won't buy me the car
He promised me last fall
Oh what now am I to do?
I'll have to end it all.
My girlfriend found another
She loves him more than me
I'll bleed until I'm empty
Then she'll finally see.
I'm so sick of suicide.
EmoEmo7 years ago in Open More Like This
Emo is black.
Emo is red.
Emo is a love of darkness,
But always needing some light.
Emo is the way you look,
But more the way you are.
Emo is resisting the world
Because you can't stand routine.
Emo is loving everyone you know,
Even if sometimes you wish they didn't exist.
Emo is hurting yourself or your body
When deep down you really love them both.
Emo is making your own choices,
While relying on your friends to make it through.
But really, emo is not caring how fucked up you are,
Cause there are so many friends just as fucked up as you.
Emo isn't hate.
Emo is love.
ScrutinyAnd when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,Scrutiny7 years ago in Open More Like This
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
~ T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
I am going through the keyless gate
to watch and wait,
to wander here and there among the proud,
among the white and old whose wisdom rots, repressed, untold:
the soporific royals wreathed in leaves of gold.
And to them I shall read aloud from the Book,
read of the sins their lips have took
and upon me they shall look and patiently reflect
I am lost in my own depth, I will say
in a slight, impartial way
(for I lack violets and an antic princes love)
and they, floating through their channels deep
dare to drown me in my sleep and in their orisons remember
So shall I be a queen bone and ash,
of crawling worms and sullied, melting flesh.
Kissed by death, I shall burn upon a pyre
knowing only distance and desire and, rising from the fire,
I shall step with soft, unfettered feet
If a Lion Could SpeakThe world churns this body,If a Lion Could Speak10 years ago in Open More Like This
has been my whitish ipecac,
like a big tongue in the gut,
has made me hurtle words.
I am a refinery, a plant that shits beauty.
Im tired and frightened, that is depression,
Ive said it before. Nothing is everything is love,
and no great love for the man'inventing.
Touch me off, go back to the aether,
monkey fist, half-hitch, noose.
Love is a sandpaper, it smooths corners,
it bevels edges, it makes dust of us,
finally we go back to the wind.
Every ribcage is a ladder with rungs
of bone. Im glad Im thin
so I can count how high I have to go.
On the hunt, the devil grass hurts
my eyes. Id rather sleep,
Id rather yawn my children into petted being.
The thousand frights between
my lips have made such games
of ivory shaking in the voice of earth.
Down at the r
Asexual loveNext to each other, we lay, eyes looking skywards. The deep green grass tickles my skin while the moisture of morning dew hangs in the air. I turn my head and she turns hers. Our eyes meet, and at once, we feel the connection that has sparked so long ago. Both of us had felt that powerful connection, in which the souls meet, not just our eyes.Asexual love8 years ago in Open More Like This
Shyly, she holds out her hand and I eagerly take it. Together, our fingers twine. Her warmth is soothing. I feel no lust, as much as she is beautiful for even now, there is no need for lust. Only love.
Our sides begin to touch. I wrap my free arm around her in an odd sort of hug. She giggles softly at this and hugs me back.
How our love sparkles, beneath the dawn sky. Even though there are no witnesses, the presence of each other is the only thing I hold most dear.
I may not know a lot, but I do know this love is not just a mixture of hormones and chemicals. Its real.
Lone Wolf's CryYou walk alone,Lone Wolf's Cry8 years ago in Open More Like This
You are the Wolf that walks alone.
You have no friends, none of your kind,
Will there ever be a friend for you to find?
You walk in sadness, and despair,
No one to love you, anywhere.
The world is cruel,
The world is mean,
You walk alone,
This is your prayer,
A mournful song,
You have never had anywhere to belong.
This is your howl,
Your sad, sad cry.
Crying beneath the open sky.
Does anyone hear you?
Are you truly alone?
Does anyone care about you?
And your bitter moan?
Others walk for you not to find,
They dont care, they have peace of mind.
You walk alone on a desolate plain,
Will you ever have a home again?
Will anyone cry, weep, wail, or moan,
At the death of the Wolf that walks alone?
HeartlessHeartless7 years ago in Open More Like This
My friend - I move to speak,
For in you I shall confide,
Of an emptiness bore deep inside,
Shadows - where I hide.
How long has it been thus,
Since I was hence torn apart?
A being void in nothingness,
Lacking feeling of a heart.
Remnants of a shadowed past
Have drifted beyond the seal,
Yet forever locked away are those
Memories of how to feel.
Oh' how frail is the heart,
To collapse in the conquering fist!
Submit! unto that which bore you,
Darkness of the endless abyss.
And what remains born of this,
When darkness takes back the heart?
Only the nothing left behind,
Existing where nobody aught.
This nonexistence lay not within,
Supreme darkness - nor in the light,
But in the ever void - where lies,
A want for hearts taken flight.
The keepers of the want are naught,
The nonexistent ones.
Taking heartless - watching heartfelt won,
Keeping all - yet feeling none.
Deep within the realm of twilight,
Shadows of nobody - can you see?
In a world that never was,
I'm Not One of Those PeopleIve never been one of those peopleI'm Not One of Those People7 years ago in Open More Like This
that walks around the house naked
with the blinds open,
[tied up in knots by a
good (proper) upbringing].
Im not even one who walks
around naked with the
[someone might drop by and
In secret, I dream about
padding around the house in
the middle of the day
[in nothing but my
And maybe, just maybe,
Ill eventually work up
[to let the altogether you
walk around with me
until we find something
The Truth to LifeDo we have a purpose, is a question one will often askThe Truth to Life11 years ago in Open More Like This
Is there a higher power out there, some greater task
The truth will hurt many, not only a few
People have a hard time dealing with that which is true
There is nothing greater that watches your back
Deal with it, stop crying and build your own stack
You are responsible for the life that you lead
It is not someone else's fault when you don't get what you need
If one wants the stars, they must be grabbed by one's own hand
Nothing in life is freely given there is no promised land
So the question remains, why are we here
For those without faith, the answer is painfully clear
We live only for today and if we are lucky the morrow
To us there is no afterlife, but that brings us no sorrow
Self improvement is our main goal and it starts in the here and now
We refuse to be filled with illusions of grandeur and get fat off them like a cow
The best of us seek improvement in every area we can
Without the proper balance of self there can be no co
WantWantWant6 years ago in Open More Like This
I shake at the thought
but a smile creeps on my face
To me it's just a game
I compete for it; I'll win
This odd sense of want
The need is so abnormal
The who, a secret
The when, always
Why? A question I cannot answer
Maybe someday, maybe never
But I can guess, right?
Do I even want it?
Or am I just escaping again?
Hide from my true needs
Pretend to feel otherwise
For once, I can never tell anybody
Not even my friends, family
Not even a stranger
And especially not them
My eyes dart, my thoughts wander
I feel my heart pound
My breath speeds up
But only when their near
Sure, I seem fine
You'd never be able to tell
Even if I told you it was you
You still wouldn't notice, would you?
Love and horror
An odd mixture, isn't it?
Am I talking to myself?
Maybe your really here, maybe I'm mistaken
Lick my lips, staring at nothing
Thinking... wondering what it would feel like
What would it taste like?
What would you do?
Somewhat, I guess I just want this
I only want fun, pleasure
The DarknessDarkness is my comfort.The Darkness9 years ago in Open More Like This
It protects me from my fears,
Hides me from them.
In the dark I can watch the light,
Without the light watching me.
The darkness understands me,
It does not judge me;
In the dark we all look the same.
It wards off those who fear the dark;
The ones that seek to harm me.
Darkness is my only ally,
In the war I fight alone;
The war in my head.
HatredHatredHatred12 years ago in Open More Like This
I do not believe that hatred grows over a day. Neither does it grow instantly. It needs an evil hand to feed it, an evil essence to nurture it.
You can't blame me
if I view every single person
Life has certainly presented me
with life's darkest secrets
deep down within
the recesses of the human heart
lies a dark side
a sinister side, unrevealed.
I was always the one
who saw through these people
I was always the one
not belonging to the unfeeling world
I was always the one
being treated like a fool
Will I find my door
my door where I will escape into
I bleed quietly
Quietly I bleed
An invitation to open bacteria
to consume me
to engulf me within
Don't Look DowndontlookdownDon't Look Down6 years ago in Open More Like This
dont look down
Shes hiding her heart behind the fortress walls
of her tightly compressed skin stretched over
her love starved skeleton; shes begging for redemption.
She lives on leftover wishes that have been thrown
away and rejected by shallow girls who have it all.
dont break now
where the missing socks goi fell into the washing machine todaywhere the missing socks go6 years ago in Open More Like This
and i found a world
where all the lost things go.
i saw gatherings of lint
and social events
for dimes, nickels, and quarters.
there were eleven shiny-now-dull buttons
discarded like adverbs.
i could smell the stagnant water
of one thousand and three spin cycles.
i didn't mind; it wasn't so bad
until it got a little nostalgic.
i started to remember
summer grass stains,
winter salt-bleached jeans,
all the times i almost
you think you love the smell of detergent
until you find out where it goes.
so i surfaced
with three lonely socks,
my old house key,
and six pocketfuls
while i was down there
down in the washing machine
do you know what else i found?
KakuHidaHe watched the world through pain hooded eyesKakuHida7 years ago in Open More Like This
Hiding fromt he hate
And ignoring the lies
Purple eyes closed as the hurt became to much
He held himself gently
Desperate for a tender touch.
Dragging himself upright he gasps as the twinge
A masochist in agony
He found the joy over before it begins
His steps were labored as he ran through the night
To forget about the fight
Sometimes being immortal can be undesiarable
When the only man you love
Finds you uncompliable.
The fit of rage was so much worse then the last
He finds his strengh fading
And gives in to the inevitable collapse
The footsteps he hears coming
Bring a tightness to his chest
He knows this strong football
So much better then the rest
He closes his eyes and braces himself for the blow
But the hand he now feels
Expresses the love thats rarely shown.
He looks at the unmasked face
At the stiches and the eyes
He lets his tears fall
Dropping his disguise
A quiet "I'm so sorry" is whispered in his ear
He is pull
takes her lessontakes her lesson11 years ago in Open More Like This
The buildings were bowing as far as their lightning rods would allow them,
laying their pot plant leaves before my feet,
amidst the donkey's traffic grunt.
I had been given my messiah,
wedged between two glossy slips of cardboard.
I'm too shy with strangers to say no;
I gained faith thanks to the selfless persistence
of a ten year old.
Except when I closed my eyes
I saw only momentary multi-hued memories
on the back of my lids.
But that's okay, that's okay,
I had a smile on my face
and god in my hand.
I opened my eyes to:
eager profit prophecies dangled as neon halos,
perched to guide imprudent eyes
- since when were inanimate objects so attention-needy? –
and I had stumbled
But that's okay, that's okay,
because once I coughed it away
I was still there with my glossy book
burning like money in my pocket.
(Maybe when there are only overly ornamental churches
built as architectural feat
rather than practical rock foundations built for bodies rather than brains,