BlueBlue said she was hurting in mint colour.Blue1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
If she were a bird it means she cannot fly and her feathers have brittled and are falling away.
Her sky is not so vital to her and she looks away. The sun is going down and the air is bleeding.
If she were a dog she has not had enough water in days and her mouth is dry.
And the streets are preparing for winter and all she can do is keep walking until there is an open spot on the concrete.
If she were a fish the water is too still for her to breathe. It grows heavier and she stays still.
If she is a human it means she is curled a little.....
She doesn't know that eyes are different than film.
She doesn't know that the world cannot breathe without her in the grass with the dandelions.
Without her sitting and organizing.
Without her moving. If she were still the sun wouldn't be able to find her. The moon would have no friend to console her.
There is no replacement for her hands moving. No replacement for her place here.
She thinks there is nobody.
The Ballad of MisanthropistsWhen we met, you hated me,The Ballad of Misanthropists4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And I hated you equally.
So right then, we both were
Destined to always concur.
It was wicked, then and now,
And even stranger thinking how
We'd become lovers then,
And our sentences would blend.
We like to sit in parks
And yell at the kids while throwing sparks.
We like to go to the beach,
Take our keys and make cars screech.
We are both misanthropists,
And that shows when we are pissed.
So, I guess, it only makes sense
For our marriage to commence...
You and I, when we're apart
Look at the skies and in our hearts,
Hoping for clouds, and hoping for rain,
Just to brighten up our day!
We both wear our skinny jeans,
Mess with our hair, and look oblique.
We will do this 'til we die,
And that is why it's 'You and I...'
So... will you be my Annabel Lee?
Except without the dying?
Will you stay with me?
Until we're both burning...?
Will you hate this world with me?
Keep me some morbid company?
Let me keep this feeling?
Let me forget... that I am dying.
So come with
His WindowIts in this place where the trainsHis Window4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
drone over the music as they go by
and theres always a moment of
hesitation, where poise
Her dance was like willing an
eggshell not to break or watching
a bird nourished back to health
He feels like hes saying goodbye
even though shell still lay in his arms, still love him when
shes through, but she seems farther away,
off growing older in a few hours.
She is alone in the dim bright lights
a feather on water,
feeling her way.
From this far, if he
holds his palm up, she
dances on his hand.
Then comes a climax, a whistle, a noise
wasted longing, wasted grace;
this time the poise breaks.
Once, she ran the
entire length of a train that had
no passengers, bare feet brushing from car to car.
She falls, a train goes by.
It seems weaved into the dance,
this breakage, this constant.
A beautiful sacrifice for a human version
of flying, for the most beautiful
moment he would ever lay his eyes on,
like cradling a c
How to Write a PoemSometimes, it makes me want to lie on the floorHow to Write a Poem9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When I read this emo poetry.
Your words so cold and ineffective.
It's redundant, is it not?
Can I explain this to blind ears and deaf skin?
I shall try.
First, there is the idea,
Something beyond yourself,
A splendour that cannot be imagined.
Form a plan and
Know your desire.
Are you aroused in any way?
Show us all, then.
Excite and stimulate the feelings inside of me.
Emotions do not, themselves, put words on a page.
Words cause emotions to spring forth.
I know how you are feeling right now.
Whether you're lying on the floor,
The bed, the tub.
Shut a pardon.
UntitledHe never forgot the coloursUntitled2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And his mother told him to express himself
So he painted a picture
A simple one, and nicely done
And when he finished his fingers were messy
And his painting was hung on the wall
Too high for him to reach
He never forgot the rhythm
And his friends told him to express himself
So he wrote a song
A heartfelt one, and nicely done
And when he finished he sang it to the girl he liked
And she gave him half a smile
Before she turned away
He never forgot the words
And his therapist told him to express himself
So he wrote a poem
A tired one
But no one was there to say how well it was done
And when he finished he signed his name
A smear of red to haunt his dreams
As he lay awake at night
Initial OApparently pastels are holy,Initial O3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as baby blue and powder pink
wrap the martyr and holy man.
White angels, gold crosses,
all the monosyllabic colors whispering "God"
but I can't help feel one syllable
can't convey the beneficence and majesty,
grace and wisdom of the Alpha and Omega.
What a sad time the 16th century
must have been, how short and weak
the colors and the words must have felt
in the evening miasma of sweat, shit, and piss.
Or was this bald and bearded man immune,
long cloistered in the sanctity of musty shrines
and incense stained pillars,
does that make this figure a saint?
His feet never needed washing
quite as often as did his Lords'.
Even with all the decorations of the initial O,
for all those time-worn flowers and braids,
I remain unmoved.
When viewed by candle-light
apparently the illumination was more obvious.
I want a pope clad cerulean gazing
through crimson curtains at an azure sky.
I want pearlescent vestments
titian skin on the angel.
Perhaps I as
eskimo movies at the...oh, I see.eskimo movies at the...5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she wants a steady hand, and smooth script
stretching towards infinity.
she wants those wanton words
wrapped in needless syllables.
she wants what she wants. what she wants
is not this.
not my short & stumbling text; one word
tumbling towards the next. not these
scribbled, sloppy secrets; chopped up
and half-confessed. she'd much rather view
a ten-cent vocabulary flexed...
but I digress.
mostly, it talks about me.
sometimes, it says "hey!
we're doing new & exciting things
sometimes, it just
and screams -
'til someone comes
(busted & beautiful)
it exclaims & explains.
The First MovementThe First Movement7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I left my lover on the floor,
arms bent like a lamp cord.
He said to me things were
different looking up;
the ceiling was brighter,
my eyes were lit up.
And he sank into sand tiles,
his hands were raw and waiting,
SomethingSomethingSomething4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Why do I be and let be?
Why do I hurt and let hurt?
Why do I love and let love?
Why do I need and let need?
Why do I want and let want?
Why do I feel and let feel?
Why am I free and let free?
Why do I know and let know?
Why do I hold and let hold?
Why do I kiss and let kiss?
Why do I hug and let hug?
Why do I control and let control?
Why do I cut and let cut?
Why do I sleep and let sleep?
Why do I die and let die?
Why do I live and let live?
I do not know!
I want to know!
I don't want to!
I want to!
I feel and hurt!
I love and feel joy!
I want and need!
I hate and despise!
This makes no sense,
I make no sense!
Born into FleshBorn into flesh constructed cells,Born into Flesh4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Bones constrict, ligament shackles restrict my fight for light,
For freedom, to soar into the blue filled reflection
To take my first breath of air
After asphyxiating in a vat of crimson tar.
Longing for the conjugal visits from creativity,
Inside I pace, I wait to satiate this hunger
This desire to escape if only for brief heartbeats.
To fly like a petal upon the wings of imagination
Forgetting this damnation of now.
A lover of instant gratification
With promises of momentarily salvation
That prize open synthetic bars to let me crawl out
Away from the judge, the jury and executioner
That ironically but most heartbreaking... are me.
I only want to be free.
Talk is CheapI'm sorry.Talk is Cheap5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If father were defined in a way I understood,
If you knew.
If you red my heart, bleeding through
No more screaming.
Ban This PoemOh you're clever, so clever,Ban This Poem6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to tape over our mouths
because we all disagree
we all want different things.
But I want what's right.
Muzzle us, mute us
because you and I
live on different wavelengths.
Take away the literature
Take away the films
Take away the music.
Rip our liberties from our skin
Strip us of our rights.
Naked and in your control.
You laugh as you deal cards
to the lesser people,
the ones trying to survive
the ones afraid to stand up to you.
But you're clever, you're oh so clever
Because you own authority.
You have your hands
in every branch of society,
so opposing positions have no chance.
Tear out articles and editorials
so you can control our opinions.
You're clever though
because you're not pulling the trigger
and wealth are pistols.
What Hitler did was legal too.
so teach me a lesson
and ban this poem.
Save your dignity.
And if I don't learn,
you'll know what to do.
Because you're clever,
and you know that
A Father No MoreHe complains about how he hurtsA Father No More6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
yet never asks how we feel when we hurt just as much as he.
He complains about the house being dirty
when she's obviously been cleaning all day.
He complains about us being lazy
when we do work all day.
He complains about how stupid we are
yet we're ten times smarter than him and didn't drop out in 10th grade.
He complains about how he's never here
yet he knows damn well he's the one that made him leave.
He complains that we should spend more time doing things more constructive
than sitting on our asses and "doodling".
He complains that we need to do more work we're fine
when he smokes 4 packs a day.
He complains about how she's a "quitter" because she got discharged
when he caused the asthma.
He complains about how "the dogs are starving"
when we feed them three times a day.
He complains about our music being loud
yet he turns his on full blast every night.
He complains about us playing on the game or watching tv
when all he ever does is sit his ass in
ContagiousContagious3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Take me out into the darkness of the Contagious streets
Where I could save you
and you could simply save me
I'd never abandon you
so save me forever
and we'd never let go
Even if you were Contagious
I'd be kissing you till you were dead
Never even thinking twice
about the fate of my own life
I'll take you away where
the darkness can't find you
and we'd never get
We'd never fall apart
so never let go of my
and this last kill will never end
So I'd do anything, anything, anything
to hold your hand
I don't care if your sick
I don't care if your Contagious
so they'll never take us alive
The night can be deadly
I'd never let go of you're hand
Written-8/17/10 posted- 8/20/10
Q.Q.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How do you know youre a straight person?
When did you first know you were straight?
Are you sure youre a straight person?
Have you ever had a three-way?
Do you want to have a three-way?
Do you want to have a three-way with me?
Do your parents know youre a straight person?
Does your boyfriend know youre a straight person?
Have you ever kissed a straight person?
If you never kissed a straight person, how do you know youre a straight person?
Why dont you try it out?
You know, youre not really a straight person until youve kissed another straight person, right?
How do you know youre a straight person?
When did you come out as a straight person?
Dont you realize youre not straight, youre just hetero-curious?
Can you believe I always knew you were a heterosexual?
Why do you always hang out at straight bars?
Why dont you understand that youre obsessed with heterosexuality and that Im just not into straig
the riverbendsI am the river livingthe riverbends3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the dam, building
Not AbuseSome days,Not Abuse7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She just wishes he would hit her;
She just wishes he would beat her;
She just wishes,
He'd abuse her.
As do cuts,
But nothing shows,
Who gives a fuck?
It's not abuse if you don't have a cut.
Letter to First Poet on MarsLetter to First Poet on Mars9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Letter to the first poet on Mars
Do not say "red".
Avoid mention of Ares.
In fact, don't wax classical
Keep it simple.
Don't drink the water.
There isn't any.
Say there is.
Exaggerate the prospects
Tell us the weather is nice.
Or, that it will be.
Wish we were there.
Tell us so.
Invent a new word
Make a circle.
construct a sphere.
Create a word for gravity
and place it at the center.
Empty the sky of stars.
Give us a proper beginning.
Write: "I've reached the summit
of Olympus Mons,"
and, "from this sacred height,
I can see beyond Tharsis
a world without gods
who deal in war."
Planes Of ExistanceJust a mere mile past easy.Planes Of Existance4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There are the few of us.
Living on the cutting edge.
Of the blade we dare to master.
Life in our own hands.
Living like crazy.
Bringing everything that we are.
Everything we're not supposed to be.
Standing still in the whirl wind of life.
Breathing in; breathing out.
No regrets, just a knife.