What Sarah SaidIn the orange-cast grey buzz kitchen
your light words clink together like glass beads--
the tension of the night is a taught string
through us from soft soil to the stars.
My throat trembles with the weight
of the words, that finally
spill out from my mouth like drops of rain:
and the words fall
"is the meaning of it all?
the thing that we're all moving towards?"
silence spins as answers are
measured, formed, examined, weighed--
I hardly dare breathe and break the dance.
Finally I chance a look
and that furtive glance reveals
your face wrapped loose
For that moment you are still
immobile as the kitchen clock--
its black hands are your breath.
your eyes shoot open
in a shock
I half expect you'll snap
stock straight and
scream free from a nightmare.
Instead you turn, your eyes scream-blue
the words brush sleepy, urgent past your lips:
"I dreamt that I was dreaming,
I mean I dreamt I was asleep.
I dreamt that I was dreaming
and I had to wake up
Broken.i.Broken.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My mother doesnt wear her wedding
ring anymore. Instead, it sits on the
counter above the kitchen sink, like
she took it off while washing dishes
and forgot to put it back on; but Ive
seen her pick it up and wipe the counter
and walk away, like she no longer
recognized it as her own.
She and I have the same long, slim
fingers, except hers are clean and
manicured and tanned, theyre used
to flipping through old books, still
delicate and fragile, with arthritic
veins tracing through; Mine have
always been pale and torn up and
raw from anxious nerves, tough
callused finger tips from encounters
with cello strings and piano keys.
She takes care of herself, but I think
shes given up on taking care of me.
Sometimes, we leave, just her and I;
we get into her car and drive and
drive and drive until weve lost the
things that are dragging around our
ankles and weighing us down; Our
adventures tend to lead us where
the thoughts drown the fastest
ten years ago.ten years ago iten years ago.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
knew i was still
a romantic because
my dreams were still
filled with white dresses
and golden rings and
now, i know i am
a skeptic because
i am haunted by
and heated passion
and the faces
real, too real.
chloroform.it doesnt matter whether you held it up on a ragchloroform.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to my face or if you splashed it on my pillow
when i had my back turned but the point is
that i breathed you in and suddenly i was
maybe i dove in headfirst or
maybe i slowly tested the waters before but
somehow you grabbed my ankles and dragged me under and
i was drowning.
you called me beautiful and
you called me beautiful and
you called me beautiful and
i called you
but ill keep wishing for the same miracle until
i have no eyelashes left in my head; until all the
clocks have stopped and the sky has burned out.
and when it finally comes true, i wont have to tell you
because youll already know.
and she is me.she talks in poetryand she is me.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sometimes, and she
thinks in love and
still hasnt decided
whether shes the
strongest vessel or
the weakest link or
a separate entity.
she hoards things
because shes afraid
to let go.
and she loves people
and she loves ideas
but she mostly hates
what people and ideas
she buys herself
journals she never
writes in because
shes afraid she
wont do her life
justice. shes an
open book and a
closed door and a
[she can see out
but no one else
can see in.]
Smoke.We spent your sixteenth birthday on your front porch, our eyes following the cars driving by and wishing that we were in them, driving far away from this place; I watched time pass as burnt out cigarette stubs piled up around your feet and you just lit one after another after another.Smoke.7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Sometimes when I think of you, all I see is the small amber glow of a cigarette tip in the darkness; I guess thats what youve become; a smoke filled mouth leaking out false promises to keep me smiling.
For me, summer is laying on the hammock in your backyard and planning our getaway to somewhere exciting and joyous and new; or bonfires in the woods behind my house, when the flames would get dangerously close to the looming trees, but you would put it out just in time.
We would watch the smoke float reluctantly away into the night sky, like a voice.
"Here we are, here we are, come take us away."
Once you told me that we had found each other because we were both filled with broken pieces, and yo
It doesn't matter.She was made for an ugly sort of love.It doesn't matter.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She smiled like late september; holding hopes for slow surprises and, and nothing. Not anymore.
Just a poor little girl with eyes for apoligies and a habit to just stop and sit in doorstoops and stairwells. She wrote books about things that never made sense and people who never wanted to exist. It doesn't matter, they'll never know.
I held open the door and pleaded to her:
"Let's run away, let's leave, let's go."
But all she was were sets of deepcut zigzags like a puzzle piece,
and shefitintohimshefitintohimshefitintohim. That was all that mattered.
The wrong way home was where she always wanted to go, but something dragged her back and held her down as she screamed, silent and bleak.
She gave up a long time ago, and never made a sound.
TruthSometimes the truth hurts.Truth7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Truth is blunt and harsh
Totally unforgiving in it's pursuit
If not but a bit sorry
At least about how it is dealt
Uncushioned, it will proceed
Ignoring the pain of its penetration
Deliberate in each word
It will not be stopped from being spoken
It can break the world's mindless devotion
To the unmistakable lie that it believes
The price of liberation is this pain
True truth will save the world
learned emptinessi.learned emptiness7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
being with you is opening old holes i thought id healed. i am unwilling to speak, to write, to think this because some superstition states that such candor will become reluctant fact. the matter of the truth is composed of a lack of resolve. i dont want to love you again. i am so much happier without the fullness of you in my heart. the blood is still too fresh under my skin, these bruises too dark to forget that i dont ever want to fall again.
leave me. leave yourself behind in a place where there are no vultures to pick your bones, so the burden of your body is mine only in the dark expanse of forgotten memories. some things dont bear remembering.
i have since learned that instead of trying to pour away this rimless depth, i should unhand this mouthful of hope so i am all hole and no hunger. for how can want have me when he cannot find an echo to hold
CursoryShe thinks herself so cleverCursory7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with her proclamations of
inventions not yet had
and her cries of momentary genius
in the corner of her bedroom closet
For what did clever matter
to the dolls in her head
waiting for a tea party
that no one will attend
To Capture the OceanI love forest floors but you need rugged shoresTo Capture the Ocean6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Wait - I'll stay on a sailboat and bottle the ocean
No longer shall you long - for shingles on the sand
In hand you will grasp them - in tiny attention
And care - the high tides cannot understand
Your mind like I do - so look out from land.
To wait for the creak of the dying ship,
Bowed below the force of words,
Cracking from the sonorous script-
With which I writ and which I worked
To Neptune's dark and stop-start heart
That swells with the lower weighty winds
And sinks with lunar pass.
The source of all this trouble?
A vessel in the hull
With several sheafs of paper in
A Poet's useless seal
A thousand words for liquid,
To quell your coastal lust
Still sinister the skeleton ships
That split on rocks to rust.
I'll fall down from the rotted deck,
Stumbling in the foam,
Here it is, (the captured sea)-
Now will you come home?
Simple WordsIf I could write somethingSimple Words7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Profound for you, I would.
All I have, are these simple words.
If I knew how,
I'd describe the light in your eyes..
(They sparkle like the stars, like diamonds, like fire..)
Sadly, there's nothing good enough...
If I could,
I'd describe your voice.
(Like a melody, like a lullaby, like an angel's)
Yet, nothing quite fits...
If I knew how,
I'd describe your heartbeat...
(The most important sound in my world, a soft meter to our time)
But nothing seems to work...
If I knew how,
I'd tell you how much you mean to me...
(I need you more than air, more than water, more than my soul)
But all I have, are these simple words.
I love you.
Killing My AddictionI feel like a drug addictKilling My Addiction7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Who hasnt gotten her fix
Of being a horrible person
A right to be a mean bitch
I cant help how I feel
But I know who I want to be
And I know you cant see
The real me is struggling
To win past this addiction
Crawling beneath my skin
Not looking for consequences
Only for a quick band aid thrill
For a gun shoot wound
Tearing at my self with sick ill
Clawing at the layers
Hoping that Ill make it through
Because when I look in a mirror
I dont want to see who
Ive become for some cheap shoot
Something not worth a blink or nod
Ill get past this just you see
You wont have any hold on me
Gakupo Must DieIt was rather obvious from day one that upon his arrival at the Vocaloid household, Gakupo Kamui was not considered...normal. For one thing, he loved the art of dance beyond the point of it being considered a hobby for him. He was willing to severely punish anyone who failed to dance well. He had even come home one day drenched in blood after discovering that a band of trashy white-boy gangstas outside were not good at performing break dance moves whatsoever. Gakupo even taped every episode of every season of 'Dancing With The Stars', and wrote long and tedious reviews regarding each dance step. He also had a nasty perverted habit of peeking in through the bathroom windows whenever any of the other Vocaloids were bathing.Gakupo Must Die6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
No one, besides Kaito (who has been blamed repeatably as being the reason why Meiko became a lesbian), liked having this guy in the house.
"WE NEED TO GET RID OF GAKUPO-SAN ONCE AND FOR ALL!!! HE IS A MENACE AND HE HAS TO LEAVE!!!" Meiko announced at the latest Vocalo
inchworm.I have a riddle for you, you said, and I smiled,inchworm.7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
twisting my hair in my fingers.
good. I like riddles.
if theres a worm, you said, stuck at the bottom of a thirty-foot well,
and every day he climbs two feet up and
every night he slides one foot down
he gets out of the well on the twenty-ninth day, I said.
I know that one.
I have one for you.
you sat back a little and your lips twitched.
okay, you said, hesitantly.
if theres this relationship, I said,
stuck in a huge rut,
and every day it takes one step forward and
three steps back,
when does it reach the point that I can trust you again?
Dear SisterDear Sister7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
What are these wounds,
I can see in your soul?
Why do you sink,
Into such a black hole?
What is this pain,
I can see in your eyes?
Who is to blame,
For your spirit that dies?
Is it that man,
You loved so very dear...
Who didnt love you,
Through that hateful leer?
Though you have cried,
With tears overflowing.
He did not care,
About where it was going.
Not caring at all,
He cruelly hit you.
Bleeding broken heart,
Knowing not what to do.
Through years of suffering,
You made it that far.
Yet he still blamed you,
For his faults and that car.
With all your devotion,
Given unto him...
He betrayed you,
In trying to win.
Being done with you,
He had gotten bored.
You broke down then,
Unsheathing your sword.
You were ready to kill,
To shatter that mirror.
You took great pleasure,
In his face full of fear.
Yet something held you back,
From running him through.
Perhaps it was that,
It was the wrong thing to do.
I know how you feel.
I am very proud of you,
seventeenIts like I can see you through the pictures inch thick paper, feel your eyes moving and flickering and blinking awake. I keep telling myself I need to think in lines, spectres of form and logic to convince myself youre not really here, in this room, on my bed, asleep and beautiful. Im not really thinking about how in a few seconds Ill go and lie for a while next to your breathing, and Im not picturing myself tracing the cold air as it curves and bends around the angles of your face, to sit lightly on your skin. No, Im not thinking at all, because thoughts are for the calm, and I am restless and silent in this skin. I am less than I imagined Id be, a little more than I wanted but still young. Perhaps I could show you my thoughts, breathe a moment of sheer, heated stupidity and tell you I need you? And maybe it could work, maybe these ghosts would disappear and youd be here, a little tired from drunken escapades and girls and music buseventeen8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
with the beauty patent.world peacewith the beauty patent.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
would be nice, but
the real issue here
(or so I think)
is finding peace
We Cannot Always Be PaperclipsThere was silence.We Cannot Always Be Paperclips5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"I'm tired of bending," the paperclip said to no one in particular.
"Be glad you don't have to stand straight all your life," answered the pencil.
"But I'd love to stand up straight! What a relief to stretch out and lie flat, without crooked spines and inverted limbs."
"And I'd love to bend and contort! But neither of us will ever get what we want, because if I tried to bend I'd break, and if you straightened yourself out you'd be useless. We'd both then be tossed out -- like rotten food scraps and yellowed supermarket receipts. It's best we stay the way we are, and suffer in silence."
"I suppose you're right."
"Of course I'm right."
There was silence again.
"But... still," the paperclip murmured to no one in particular, "it might be worth being garbage if I could only be different ."
nsde the lnes .nsde the lnes4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that once was
and qute dstnct.
that t's shakng me,
and my ablty
to be creatvely
n the mrror
shows new lnes,
both wrnkles and planes
f can stll
be a pllar
or am destned
my desgns msdrect
and my tme msplace?
for nadequate pace?
or am smply
lost n space?
of a shmmerng heart
wll not be bured.
wll be an ntrepd explorer's
n fnest ntonaton
my optcs were mscalbrated
wth my vson.
ths nspraton s nsstently blndng
but all the same
stll consstently deservng fndng.
begin the begin.thursday the firstbegin the begin.7 years ago in Other More Like This
christmas and new years fell on the same day this year, I hummed.
thursday thursday thursday.
[finding odd relationships was always my forte.]
and my new years resolutions are to figure out a way to fix the auto-
capitalize on my computer and to writewritewrite and to not feel
anything for my parents anymore.
of course I didnt share that with you.
I was too busy trying to explain that
a resolution isnt a resolution unless you come up with it yourself.
how about your resolution is to be less miserable at home? my dad says.
how about your resolution is to get off of my back? I mutter in response.
friday the second
what about people that actually try and
what about people that actually give a crap?
those type of people left the world long ago, you say.
you may be the last of the species.
that makes me feel lonely, I say.
the faerie's fabletangled lace vines beneath my skinthe faerie's fable6 years ago in Typographical More Like This
knit complex veins and arteries, just
too thin for my tendrils of blood to seep through,
caught and snagging upon my Pinocchios heart:
growing moreandmore with each damn lie you speak.
swollen lips pulsing the syllables of fables
from your pale, pallid and drawn face. still,
with your eyes flaring:
golden-shimmer asteroids falling, down
in the twilight air.
JazzYour flying fingers kiss the keysJazz6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
the blues bleed from the brass,
eruption of the subtleties
in notes as clear as glass
As wild and churning as the seas
the night of music's birth,
the sound crawls on its hands and knees
and smells of clay and earth
Painting trails of color as
the notes pursue their prey,
the smoky-hot tendrils of jazz
delve deep my core of clay
And slowly as the tones surround
and make my sick soul moan,
my very breath becomes the sound
strung from the saxophone.
The reason you can't cryThe tears that are building in your eyesThe reason you can't cry7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That you want falling down your face
The anger that holds it all back
Keeping everything the same
The one little drop you want down your cheek
That one thing won't come
The sadness that lies deep in your eyes won't form tears
Cause it just can't seem to be sad enough
The anger that lies in your brain
Just wanting to explode
The anger over powering those sad tears your wanting for
Something you've been wanting for a while
Everything you think about and the will you have
Keeps those tears back
You know that
But you won't let them go
The true reason of why tears won't fall...
Its all cause you won't let it go
You won't let the anger go, so you can be calm
And the sadness comes so you can cry
You just got to realize
Your the reason you can't cry...