the riverbendsI am the river livingthe riverbends4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the dam, building
ContagiousContagious4 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
I cut too deepI turn on the sink to hide my deedI cut too deep9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The door is already locked and closed
Unfortunately, this time, I've cut too deep
While both arms I exposed
Eyes cinched shut
No tears will escape
As I begin
Warm waters run out of my blood cold arms
Dripping off my blue fingertips
No amount of praying or charms
Will rescue me from these collecting drips
Knees weaken and give out beneath me
I fall to the floor
Water still running
Arms still flowing
I stare up to where I think Heaven is
My eyes speak more grief than words ever could
Could this have all been different I wonder
But now I'll have no chance to see
The dreams I had never dreamt
The love which I never found
The goodbyes I never said
My thoughts recollect on the ground
I look at my deed again
A solemn tear forms and falls
Down my cheek and to the floor
Repentance now is trying to settle the score
These cuts will always stay with me
Yet as I lay here quietly
I drown in a hope
That somehow I may depart from these scars
Then the c
Van der Waals Song(to the tune of Wonderwall by Oasis)Van der Waals Song5 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Today is gonna be the day
That youre gonna induce dipoles.
Molecules always play by your rules,
No matter how many moles.
I dont believe the other atoms
Know how you control
My melting point.
Theyre chroniccovalent and ionic
But I just didnt want to bond.
Though theyre global, baby, cause Im noble,
Youre the only one for which Im fond.
I dont believe the other atoms
Know how you make me respond
With my melting point.
And though your influence is not that large,
Because youre just an instantaneous charge,
Youre the one and only kind of attractive force
That doesn't disappoint.
Cause, of course,
Youre gonna be my only force,
For, after all,
You're my van der Waals.
Today was gonna be the day,
But I guess youve had a change of heart.
Its fact, you have little impact
When the molecules are far apart.
I still dont believe the other at
AbortionIt's raining again.Abortion8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The sky is the color of a baby blanket
and all on my mind is that cavern in my belly
that place where the blossom came,
the orange bird of paradise bearing you,
I float empty like a paper bag
on the casting currents of the sky
blown with uncertainty
and the days that flow into night
unbroken and unfeeling, cold like apathy
I'm sorry I never felt a thing before I knew you
I'm sorry you'll never see the morning
I'm sorry you'll never have a name
or a voice
or a song to sing
I'm sorry for your never-was
and I'm sorry for my never-will-be.
Suicidal imbecileWalking home from school, surrounded by fences, cars and grass. Nothing unusual about it really. Richard walks beside me, talking but not really saying anything. He seems like a hollow shell of a person, devoid of life. It had been hard on all of us, but him the most of all. Never opening up, he'd kept it all inside. The pain and loss of her death never ceased to haunt his mind, it seemed to us. Trapped inside his own mental prison, unwilling to see the world outside anymore.Suicidal imbecile7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Help me if you can
It's just that this is not the way I'm wired
We turned a corner and started walking down a sidestreet. I'd always be coming home with him after school, trying in a futile fashion to cheer him up. School, home, they were all the same cage to him. We came closer to his house, with its winding driveway, overgrown trees and dirty windows. The moment we set foot on the driveway Richard turned and deliberately walked around the side of the house. He couldn't bear to walk through the front door.
Q.Q.5 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
His WindowIts in this place where the trainsHis Window5 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
A Son Unlike His MotherIt was empty. The last pack I had promised myself for the foreseeable future was empty except the battered foil wrapper and a few flakes of tobacco at the bottom that rattled around like bones, drifting into my pocket like toast crumbs in bed sheets.A Son Unlike His Mother4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
And, of course, I still wanted one. I wanted to step outside into the screaming wind and the soul-leeching cold, Winter's ministers tearing into my cheeks and fingers until the inside of my mouth felt cold. Failure didn't surprise me anymore. I'd written it in pencil on every cigarette I'd smoked for the past month. Failure. しっぱい. Debil. できない. Fracaso. Weakness. I'd exhausted every word I knew to deprecate myself across three languages and even with all the graphite and negativity destroying my lungs, I wanted another cigarette.
So I found myself trudging out of th
The First MovementThe First Movement8 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,
ConstantI've seen you every day. Not that you were necessarily the light of my day or anything, but you were a constant. Someone who actually didn't seem to want. Come to think of it, I've only heard you say what you don't want. Who you don't want. This felt safe - to me, at least. Maybe a little bit of immaturity was all I needed to feel comforted by a person. My opposite. But I have never once heard you say what you wanted. The occasional material thing? Perhaps. Never have I been able to see past your facade... until you let it drop. You told me - me of all people, not even your friend - how you felt, and indirectly what you wanted. You feel invisible, is what you told me. You are lonely. Maybe that was a hint. Maybe I'm your constant. Your opposite. Unfortunately, all I seem to feel is pity. My heart is quietly moaning, but things never seem to fit. I don't want you to feel lonely, my constant.Constant5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I don't want you to be like me.
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.
Fish think tooSometimes I want to paint the scenery. Sometimes I wish my eyes would not burn.Fish think too5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Some people have souls buried deep inside them. Some have misplaced theirs altogether.
I think mine is at the bottom of the ocean. I lost it when the cords weakened and I lost my step.
When the sky is blue, the ocean is also very blue. People find it the prettiest then. When the sky is orange, figures are swipes of ink on the horizon, and the ocean turns violet. It looks almost foreboding, like a crowd around a fire... the sun.
I imagine that once the water turns violet, the colorful reef fish hide and the black and navy and violet fish emerge. The undiscovered fish. I seem to be the only person who ponders this, ponders anything for that manner.
The library seems not as much a destination or a comfortable spot but a shortcut to where the people are going, avoiding traffic or whatnot. The desks and conference tables are always left unused save for the one I sit at daily. I've seen the janitor clean the dust
My nightmareSitting quietly in the far corner of the three seated leather sofa, my head buried deeply in a fantasy book, I hear slamming of an upstairs door and the slow trickle of hatred that's pouring down the stairs, making a puddle of pure loathing at my feet. The same bitter rage awaits me everyday, there's no escape from the anger in this cold house. As I make my way through the darkening living room and up the stairs, I try hard not to step in the icy wetness of the hate that's still dripping down the stairs. My mother passes me, her face a portrait of the forgotten love for my father, whose mocking voice, can still be heard through the shut door.My nightmare8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I step quietly into my room and shut the squeaky door behind me. I flick on the rusty light switch and wait as my dark eyes adjust to the unnatural light. I move to the other side of my bed turning on my ancient C.D player and adjusting the sound to just above audible. Picking up my fantasy book I return to a world without violence and shouting, a
Letter to First Poet on MarsLetter to First Poet on Mars10 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."
Dear MomDear Mom,Dear Mom4 years ago in Letters More Like This
[I know this really isn't a letter like I promised, but you should be used to me giving less then I say I will]
I'm going to feel bad, throwing you into the ocean.
I'm going to have to clench my teeth, close my eyes, and grip my hip [because you're there, forever; in jagged scar tissue with upside down mountain capped M's and a blocky O, you're there, forever.] to keep myself from diving in after you and gathering you back together with the finest cheesecloth, molding you back together and filling you with all the beautiful things you've been drained of. I'll jam sea glass in your eye sockets and replace your weak bird bones with coral, I'll fill your lungs with saltwater [because oxygen obviously never worked; I almost miss that respirator keeping me awake at night] and wrap you with seaweed to hold you together again.
And I'll let you speak by jamming the truths to all my lies I've told you down your throat. I will whispersobconfess all my dirty deeds. I will tell yo
Born into FleshBorn into flesh constructed cells,Born into Flesh5 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.
Something GreatThere is this place. You travel two kilometers outside of here, the road falls away, and I find it difficult stepping upon the broken path. Cars will watch you here. Lights run from you. Its dark. The boy at the gas-pump will wave and lock the door and his boy blue shark will take him home and I stay.Something Great5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I see it and watch it away from people.
And I cannot say. Its being hospitalized.
It is like no sound wants to touch me, as I am alone. Sound does not wish to be alone with me. So Im ignored. But how often have I really been this way? Probably longer than has been given credit for. And every night this reminds me. The beautiful emptiness. That I really was meant for dead.
Its like being in bed.
Like being ill.
But not like when I was dying.
More like when the power flickered out.
Dying was too strong. I choked and it hurt.
But this is soft and maybe pleasurable. It is quiet and peace. Until I see this field at night. And as the boy waves me farewell suddenly it
Planes Of ExistanceJust a mere mile past easy.Planes Of Existance5 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.
Ban This PoemOh you're clever, so clever,Ban This Poem7 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
Snuff Film5Snuff Film3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The next day, Richard calls Liam into his office early to talk with him. Liam stands just in front of his fathers' desk while Richard pulls something out from under his desk. He hands Liam a package wrapped in duct tape that appears to have already been opened.
"What's this?" Liam asks. Richard takes a seat behind the desk.
"You wanted a job?" He asks. "It's a tape. But I want you to understand something." Liam slips the tape out of the package and turns it over in his hands, inspecting it. "This was sent to me from a patient. Normally, of course, I would never let you or anyone else see this, I could loose my license, but I just want you to watch it."
"Is this a snuff film?" Liam asks. Richard remains indifferent.
"One of my more recent patients sent it to me. His name is Nikolai Sokoll. He came to me last week and I proscribed him Clonidine. He told me about one of his friends over the internet, Michael."
"But the Clonidine, it was for, what, sleep hyperhidrosis, neuralgia ?"