Global WarmingBy 2050,Global Warming7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
he was knee-deep in water
very well-informed about it.
when i cannot sleepi found a shirt today with the lingeringwhen i cannot sleep3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
scent of late nights and early mornings
with you. i put it on before bed tonight
and recalled the calming memories
your cinnamon smell brought back;
first dates and noses nuzzled into necks,
tears of frustration caught in your shirt,
strong arms and fireworks, watching 90s
shows and falling asleepin each others arms.
and soon the memories became dreams and
reality became fantasy became reality.
patternswe are between waking moments and drifting daydreamspatterns2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
your tender touch felt in my bones, i wish i could bottle up
with all the other spine tingling moments that pass
with the rise and fall of your chest
misty mornings are the bookends of our love
flittering eyelids keep away the thoughts
i run from in our shared dreams- creaking
realities heard as quite comforts
lies we told ourselves,
lies i believed,
lies i loved.
An Ode to SpamOh, beautiful Spam.An Ode to Spam9 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
With four simple letters, you represent so much randomness.
To lose you would be such a mess.
In your board, we talk about what we wish.
From anime to our favorite food dish.
Randomness is your motto, and to it we hold true.
Oh, Spam, how bored we would be without you.
Without you, our insanity would be gone,
Haru-san could not break into song,
And now, this ode to you is getting too long.
Tear addictionYou're used to the painTear addiction6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You're used to the tears
You're used to begging for attention
Now you are seen and cared for
You don't know how to not cry
You don't know how to not be in pain
This happiness scares you
This feeling is unusual and you've never felt it before
You long to be miserable again
So at least you're in familiar territory
Boris the ManskinnerBoris the ManskinnerBoris the Manskinner10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When you skin a man you'll find
he peels like ripening fruit.
He will scream when he has nothing
to confess; pay no mind
when you hear him. If
he speaks, his words
do not equal our words.
The ineffable skinning is key.
The cryptography of silence
urges care in the carving. Between
the shoulder blades
and the base of the skull
lies an area of exquisite tenderness.
Here, the skin is a folding
map stretching across the back
each curve a lesson
in the nature of geodesics.
Lay the skull bare.
The face, perhaps now horrific,
is a primal glyph of the
inquisitive nature of man.
"no" or "why" will rise like
the water table in a storm.
The fruit is then ripe,
and a dream reader is called
to decrypt the contours
of the skull. What life was lost
will reveal itself.
I, Boris, can help you.
In Russia it was severe and cold
during the war.
No. Please, stop.No. Please, stop.No. Please, stop.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As simple as that.
But you still don't seem to understand what they mean.
It means, a little girl is being hurt.
It means, a little girl is crying at night.
It means, a little girl is scared of someone she should trust.
It means, a little girls's future is being ripped away in front of her face.
It means that inside; a little girl is dead.
No. Please, stop.
As simple as that.
But you don't seem to understand what they mean.
And now. Neither does that little girl.
Brief Musings-On coconuts-Brief Musings7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You are so hairy;
Though sharks have big teeth,
You are far more scary.
I believe your hair looks kind of crimped;
Youre like a Labrador thats been pimped.
-On chavtastic deadlines-
I always leave things to the last minute
I work better under pressure, innit.
I know one should never hold grudges,
But I cant help but dislike smudges.
-On Viking helmets-
Though your glory cant be denied,
And you looked alarming as you went to war,
Those horns are so absurdly wide
That it must be hard to get through the door.
-On designer labels-
You dont cost much to produce,
And it makes me ever so pensive
That something of such limited use
Can make clothes so expensive.
-On practicalities when it comes to cooking-
A very wise man once quoth:
Too many cooks spoil the broth.
For cannibals this is certainly so
If they dont want their stew to overflow.
Every cloud has a silver
she does it like this when youplastic wedding ringsshe does it like this when you6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and paper butterflies
glass slipper shoes
and a virginity to lose
don't make it this way.
it doesn't have to be
names don't matter here
they take away from
the true meaning of this
don't try to hide
your pale skin seems
to make mine look like
the deepest of blues
this is a still life
of your real life
it's all for the best
i know you can't lie to me
but please stop lying to yourself
it's a morbid thing
when the coffee rings on your
start to talk to me
what am i on now?
once i leave
leaving more behind than
what i brought
you'll know to burn
the birthday cards i sent
and forget the kisses i blew.
don't mourn over the girl
you once knew
PessimismThey call it pessimism so they can deny the world is really this bad.Pessimism8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A Mildly Gruesome TaleWhen I read a book on neurology,A Mildly Gruesome Tale7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
There were some things it didnt explain,
So, upon a whim, I decided
To purchase a human brain.
In a somewhat shady alley
Was a shady man with shady shades
Who sold me a fine and fresh specimen,
Plus a curious clamp and some oddly-shaped blades.
I snuck home with it in my jacket,
Which now has an unusual stain,
And placed on my desk, with great care,
Three hundred quid's worth of brain.
I held it in place with the curious clamp
And plunged straight into grey matter;
I wish I had put some newspaper down
I didnt expect so much splatter.
I admired the basal ganglia,
The colliculus was superior;
But as for the hippocampus,
Ive never seen anything drearier.
It sat there and did very little
But ooze and occasionally drip;
Id have saved time, had the book told me
It was neither camp nor hip.
Bones .when the lights went outBones .6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
we didn't even notice
glass shards on the floor.
HeliumLeaves scuttled along the gravel path, pushed gently by the faint autumnal breeze. A warm sun filtered down through the gold and crimson foliage of the trees. The autumn was fresh and new and the sky was as clear as glass. Not a single cloud dared cross the blue field high up there and so the warm sun cast its glow across the leafy park.Helium6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Families and students milled about the place. Children played in the play-area and explored in the bushes while their parents chatted or pushed the toddlers on the swings. Some older children played with a Frisbee and let a shaggy dog chase after it. Red-tailed squirrels darted from tree to tree, boisterously nattering as the disgruntled blue-tits ruffled their feathers and stamped in protest. The irregular whine of a see-saw in the play-area was the days music and it drowned out the nearby commotion of traffic and beeping horns. For the time being, everyone had forgotten about the world outside the park. It was perfect.
A girl stood beneath a la
LoserThere was a girlLoser8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
who was always alone.
No one knew her name.
No one really cared.
She'd sit in the shadows,
Cry for herself,
cry, hoping to get pity,
cry, because Mom and Dad were long gone,
cry, because she needed the consolation.
Wherever she went,
her face was shrouded
She couldn't be loved
because she was a loser
to everyone around her.
No one saw the
beauty that was buried
deep in her.
She was once a loser to them
and always would be a loser to them.
She was once their target
and always would be their target.
Things were not easy
being a loser and all.
She had no allies to
turn to in her
time of need.
So many people know
We've all been losers.
InsomniaI'm conscious. I'm conscious.Insomnia7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'll always be conscious.
I'm not just not sleeping but I'm so God damn conscious.
I can't close my eyes because my ears are alive
They cradle the sounds that sound just like light
I'm conscious. I'm conscious.
It's dark and I'm conscious.
Sensations are sounds that keep me awake
Gnawing my nerves to make me insane
Rattling feelings to wake up my brain
Hours of awareness that bring on the pain
I'm conscious. I'm CONSCIOUS.
Can't you tell that I'm CONSCIOUS?!
Hurting in places that don't have a name
Insomnia throbbing like night pounding rain
If I could close my eyes I'd be alright again
If I could close my head I'd lose all this pain
This consciousness always makes me insane
Die Verbrecherin.Die Verbrecherin.8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Ich hätte die Wolken beiseite schieben können
Willst du Liebe?
Ich bin zu spät gekommen,
hätte mein Paradies um Dich herum gepflanzt.
Für einen Augenblick
Und nur 5 Minuten
vom Rande des Glücks entfernt.
Everybody Wants to Be BukowskiMy friend J was just firedEverybody Wants to Be Bukowski9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from her job teaching philosophy
at a small Catholic university
for not wearing her mortarboard,
for defending the rights of prostitutes,
for drinking Cuervo in the beds of pickup
trucks in the shadow of the Alamo,
for kicking out the jams, for taking
young guitar players and old professors
I tried to tell her months ago, once
you join the tweed brigade and hang
letters from your ass, that's it --
no more scromping in the dirt,
no more rockabilly stomp,
no more flights to Amsterdam,
Huntsville, Toronto, New York,
no more busking in the subway,
no more lean taut dreameyed
poet boys, no more manufactured
Everybody wants to be
Bukowski, but nobody wants
to pay for the poetry. We all
want to be drunken heroes,
call ourselves angels and saints
and scoundrels, but we want it
delivered to our doors, no muss,
no fuss, no pain, no blood,
It doesn't work like that.
It never has.
You can't be Byron without
Augusta and the clubfoot;
Don't Call Me 'Honny'Don't call me 'Honny',Don't Call Me 'Honny'6 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
when you don't care to know what I'm thinkin'. . .
Don't call me 'Honny',
when I you have been drinkin'. . .
You've been snappin' at us, darlin'.
And we've been sick and tired of your anger for too long.
so when you get home tonight,
pack your stuff,
and please be gone.
And maybe, our family will be all right. . .
Don't call me 'Honny',
when you know that I love you, but I couldn't anymore.
Don't call me 'Honny',
When I just told you to go out that front door.
Your oldest daughter, chased away,
your middle never truly stayed.
And your youngest is too young to know what's goin' on,
so thank God, she has been spared from this tonight.
Don't call me 'Honny',
when nothin' is all right.
Don't call me 'Honny'. . .
but I guess I didn't tell you tonight. . .
Your oldest is gone,
Your middle is with another.
Because they couldn't stand us, one or the other.</b>
Your youngest is here to stay, because she can't run away.
What It Means To Be Scene Christy, you think Scene is nothing.What It Means To Be Scene7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You think it's just about,
and the cuts in our skin</b>
AddictThe touch overwhelms meAddict6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Makes me warm right there
I tremble on the spot
Force myself to stand still
Shaking knowing the rush that will hit
It hit alright
The warm overflows on me
Inhaling the sweet aroma
I feel like I could fly mixed in with the fumes
Ive never been that high before
With your lips so soft and warm against mine
Our tongues searching for the other
I feel invulnerable I feel like Im floating on high
My mind liquefies and the turns solid once more
Everything happens at once then nothing at all and time has stopped
You live life for seconds it seems then die
And are born again
Still trapped in that lock .
Youre a drug
And you made me an addict
Under the UmbrellaThats me under the battered umbrella, the one with the Technicolor dreamcoat and the hairstyle thats decidedly undecided. Im avoiding looking down, I expect, because Id like to be one of those confident people that smiles and says Afternoon! to everyone they pass on the gum-dappled pavements, and not someone that puts all their energy into considering abandoned takeaway packaging and coins glued to the floor by psychology students.Under the Umbrella7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Im probably thinking about poetry, or one of many arrogant young men that occasionally give me a look that could be mistaken for something meaningful. Maybe Im just wondering if the rain would sound so much like gunfire if I put the umbrella down. Undoubtedly Im so focused on my thoughts that I would jump if you said something to me. Id be embarrassed that Id jumped, so then I would snap at you, even though you were only trying to be friendly. Possibly Im thinking about that, although I
Mix Tapes for Egg BeatersMix Tapes for Egg Beaters10 years ago in Open More Like This
Most people know
life doesn't end happy
I wish people would
just act like it
because life is not always
the way we WANT it to be
It's the way it is
"The past is gone
The future has not happened yet
and now is here"
...or something like that
No matter what one does
and If I want to pretend
to be a pirate
walking on the edge
of the ship
I can be scared about
and nobody should care
I made the passerby smile
as I swam through
shark infested waters
Life is happy
and I wanted to do something,
so I did...
I'll accept the dirty looks
if I receive one smile
It doesn't always end happy
I am the egg beater,
my life is only one
so make me a mix tape,
And I'll make you yours
Collages of emotion,
please don't die for me,