Blackbird Pupilsdont look at meBlackbird Pupils6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with those eyes
bluebird green and hazel-ache
mine, already hollowed out
and daily leak-
i cannot bear your
youd see all those wax demonshades
youd know the clockworks run
i read some other poet,
his words were blackice bludgeoners, soundless suturing socket spikes, hammergods, each one,
the last cicada to flee the moult.
but he hasnt the orbs to ruin me.
almost no one has
Sir's TheologyBlack, grey, and blue in the rainbowSir's Theology4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And pink and gold in the rain,
Bloodied and bruised at the wedding
Cleanliness oft dyes the stains.
Rose-fashioned cheeks on the corpses;
A child who reeks of cadaver.
A memory upsets the future
And backwards we tumble thereafter.
A scientist hollers, "My God!" as
A preacher cites psalms of Einstein:
"Science without religion is lame,
Religion without science is blind."
Truth is assumed by believers
In ignorance masked as blind faith
"An angel!" he clings to the lie
When, truly, his reaper's a wraith.
These murkiest sources reveal
What mirrors so often condemn,
That hindsight beckons man forward
To never be sightless again.
Morning ChantSlightly damp -Morning Chant4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lust left me messy
The sounds above -
I stayed under..
because everything was mine.
A Process of PregnationRipened to paralysis, the ebb and flow of ideasA Process of Pregnation5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
cascade down my legs, a crimson leak of
infertility and hatred from the love-place, that accursed baby maker.
They just grow to break the laws we love,
so I nip them in the bud in a seedy alley behind a pub,
coat-hanger and all.
If 'ignorance is bliss', then I am miserable,
once again impregnated by dissent, that monochrome
ticking of a bomb in my swollen law-breaker.
Here individuality is false,
delusions of grandeur for the whole, not the self.
Megalomania is dead and buried in good health.
Our waggling tongues speak junk. Drown the
baby-faced flesh now, before it learns
of the abhorred textual sextual worlds we conceal
in our think-place, our tinker boxes,
and burn the books, and keep them safe
from any ineffectual waif.
Heart's SongSing me your heart's song,Heart's Song6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
each syllable spilling your
blood, your viscous and loving blood.
Sing me your heart's song
to tell me how love works
and where we got it wrong.
Reach out with bleeding emotion;
each thrilling spill, each
cut deep from your
the world's smallest ocean.
Render words useless,
pierced by putrid fluids;
a fruitless, mad song spewing
as I weep for a meaningless scene
drawn from your heart's juices.
Sing me your heart's song
to tell me I'm not dreaming,
and I'll song along
with my own blood streaming;
our faces grown pale, our struggles to no avail,
all to see where we got it wrong.
i feel like cryingi never realizedi feel like crying6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how many accidents there are
until i moved next to the fire station.
i hear them go by at least
ten times a day.
so i wonder
how many people
flick cigarette butts
into gas cans
or dogs pull over grills
or toddlers stick their fingers
in electrical sockets.
i'd like to gouge out my eyes,
it would keep me from seeing
what a mistake i was.
did you see?
i knicked myself shaving.
there was a lot of pretty blood;
it sat around the drain,
refusing to be swallowed up.
kind of like you,
you were never part of the crowd.
but then again,
neither was i.
and even though i was alone,
i never felt lonely
until you showed me how it felt
to be happy.
maybe i never felt like i belonged with you,
but you made me feel
like i was wanted,
a heart that will beat regularly.
emptied eye sockets
and empty pockets.
i have a lot of nothing.
i think that's what i've always had.
when i had something,
i lost everything
Lost ThoughtsI. There are birds nestingLost Thoughts4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the hollows of my bones.
Sometimes, when it's cold,
they flutter their wings
and my legs ache.
II. I kissed an island boy once,
who told me I tasted of oranges.
His hands were shivers of rain
down my spine.
IV. A wounded birdIV. A wounded bird4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A wounded bird.
The ocean's sky with long cloudy hair
where October's shadows shiver on him,
Breathes of the North wind,
on an impossible dream
Of a wounded bird who wanted to run away this sad day.
But he is feverish as the light,
he snuggles up
Against a trunk filled with rotten leaves,
he thinks of his fellows flying over the sea.
Towards a radiant sky, golden, celestial body of fire
Warm the immense clear stream of azure,
radioactivebeing me is likeradioactive6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a splash of my blood
makes flesh sizzle
if i leave a scar
dont think it has healed
when you least expect
a tumor is bound to emerge
be cautious: even a drop
can find its way inside you
and burn a canker in your heart.
Tell me now.I had a thoughtless mind for flattering wordsTell me now.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Had I been ungreatful for meanings given and taken as meaningless
Spare my time from thinking so nasty
Know they'd come back worse
Throw at me your best
And i'll listen closer this time
Because I know it's worth
They'll be found in my front pocket
You know this time, it's beyond a meaning and sound
Because I can hold it with me.
Spiritual GraspSweet iridescence wraps my body,Spiritual Grasp6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
while delicate waves of magic hold,
I am cocooned within enlightenment,
beholding the aura that streams of gold.
The balance of energy shall become centered,
for clarity has approached as a goal,
I want to feel the warmth of protection,
and see the Azure within the cold.
I wasn't alwaysI wasn't always so cold,I wasn't always7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I used to be warm and tender,
But that was before ...
My heart used to race,
at an unusual pace.
Now it lumbers slowly.
I used to love the spring,
with it's songs of life and promise.
Now everyday is winter.
I remember those hot nights,
when everything felt so right.
Now your side of the bed is cold.
At least it matches my heart.
ApeirophobiaSpace:Apeirophobia5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the perpetual evil
spilling from the center
dousing the light
with wicked hands.
I am asphyxiated
by the noxious substance.
God's immortal age
an imposing vacuum.
I am stripped of all walls
I long for the shroud,
pregnant with my soul.
I fear the immeasurable flight
to the absent bottom,
the unsettling stillness
of a death unearned.
There is limitlessness
in the omnipotent palm,
I am dangling
from enigmatic threads.
I will never graze the surface
or merely comprehend
the Way of Truth is folly.
VII. Without daring to say a word.VII. Without daring to say a word.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Without daring to say a word.
There are fragile words
Which form outlines
Of a vulnerable life.
In the autumn colors
Disturbed by the noise
Of the rain on windows.
At the end of the day, the somber
Reality becomes a burden.
This woman is invaded by anxiety
Her tired spirit, on the alarming
Silence of the language, is slowly
Dying on this kiss of the other one.
He, who believes with his smile
To understand everything
by watching at her crying.
He, with his stupid words, he hammers
The commonness with his unsightly facies,
His absent glance in front of her who doubts
In the gust of feelings.
Quiet, he falls asleep,
she stares at him
Silently with sadness,
ashesyou made a listashes7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of every storm bearing your name,
then you set it afire.
flames like autumn leaves
carried the tear-stained memories into oblivion
dancing to the unsteady beat of a victory prelude
(or was it a death march?)
until nothing remained of it but ashes.
mere ashes, swept under the rug
-- ironically screaming WELCOME HOME --
but ashes always show their faces
when you least expect it
...or at least when they are called out to play.
and play they will,
flirting with the remnants of Taylor Hanson and Santa Claus,
who aimlessly float like Bobble Head figurines
inside the murky waters
of the childhood memories you prayed to God would never find you again.
want some candy? they'll taunt.
some flowers? some beauty? some love?
of course you do.
in one moment's time,
one blinding flash of red,
you find yourself willing to forget everything you once learned
to invest in another lottery ticket from hell.
--but it said that "everyone is a
Funeral FormulaPastoral goodness swallows memoriesFuneral Formula5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in a thousand psalms and hymns. Solemn brickwork
patched up over years of peasantry torment me.
Amongst those statues
I see no vestige of you in Mary's face.
Cocktails with cranberry juice, a remnant of
taste, sour but supple, washed down the
mothballs of unspoken words in my throat,
innocent at best, i'm wasted
but I always try not to choke.
Lacking in suit,
and composure the relatives said,
words tumbled out in a flurry,
a gushing outburst, unstructured and dumb,
but with more meaning than the clergy.
I cannot pass judgment,
years spent trying to find hidden meaning
behind those psalms and hymns
i've realised, you were just another
beaten body with following formula.
Needles of GrassNeedles of grass, their never-endingNeedles of Grass6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
rage; a ghost fire, spreading
the slow burn that licks at my
calves, that makes my toes seize
and my fingers buzz, fighting the
hollow numbness that encroaches,
harbingers of the saccharine drip,
eroding the perception of sight and
thought that drowns in a single depth
the ebbing of low tide on a beach of
finest silt, unable to support
anything heavier than the sea salt
that weeps from my nostrils,
a cycle, a cyst; moon phases
extolling their revelation,
a parasitic resolve-
reading a muted fortune
as seen through the uncorrupted
facets of a perfect diamond
that never realizes its own
appreciation, only the inevitable,
unable to grant that
this too shall pass,
when I will be reduced to crawling
through needles of grass.
III. Wild loveIII. Wild love4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Lick the shiver
In your beauty
Disturb my senses
Burn my lightning
On your burning flash of lighting
Hurt me in a fury!
Of love on them
Ashes of desire.
Of the excited madness
In the streams of kisses
I drift on your frenzy
Roaring to die from it
It is my body in fury
Which enjoys on your drunkenness
In the corolla of your breast.
The Ana EnigmaShe's a shot of vodka slipped into your black coffee,The Ana Enigma6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A lazy-eyed lioness with a crackling disposition sparked,
By a kamikaze lover's desire,
That burns like fire:
Hungry nude flames raising their arms in mindless ecstasy.
An overflowing glass of champagne,
Sizzling distortedly through your veins,
Whistling like a zooming yellow Porsche,
Bubbles frying before they reach the heavens,
She's irregular fireworks,
From whom Patience flees,
An Italian name caressed by luscious red lips,
Death by tango,
Which she will dance two beats ahead.
Polite words, a rehearsed nod, green tea with honey,
Eyes dark as blood rubies,
Labyrinthine secrets uncoiling their anaconda muscles,
She's a time bomb,
A veiled threat
An inadvertent Delilah with a curtain of silken mahogany hair,
And when she opens her mouth
Oh, where is the exit of Hope?
Imagination of the insaneShimmer-glitter, sparkle, flitter,Imagination of the insane7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as if my god was a spitter,
dazzle-shine, sprinkle and fly,
like a star glued on the sky.
Stars-ships, space, rockets,
fairy dust inside my pockets,
dripping-DROP throughout my brain,
imagination of the insane.
bird wings.theres a girl who has irses the colour of running ink. she covers canvasses with blood-red paint and covers note books in everything she wishes she could be. hanging red canvasses on the blue walls in her room sometimes make her feel as though she's burning. when she comes home from school she lays on her bed and she cries, burning from the inside out.bird wings.6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
theres a girl who spends her nights curled in a ball, in the park behind her house. her cheeks are decorated in purple-blue-black bruises and her tights are ripped. i want to hold her to my chest and run my fingers through her sienna hair; hold her hands and kiss her fingers. i want to protect her, keep her in a cage and make sure that no one can get in.
there's a girl who has sand through her hair, and dirt underneath her fingernails. she reminds me of long, crashing waves that you see at the ocean. the kind that you can't fight, the kind that looks so gentle and calm until they finally reach the shore; then they fall and break. vio
Trust MeTrust me.Trust Me6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Take my hand,
It's just a simple step
taken at least once before.
Now, take a breath, my dear.
It's been a while, I know.
Have you lost the memory?
why are you trembling?
You already made the choice; I am here to simply help you along.
Don't look at me that way,
of pain and regret
and need and punishment.
Dancing upon broken happiness and shattered yesterdays.
I was your answer, remember?
You look at me in shock but I can only shrug in response.
I am not the one haunted.
I am at peace as I talk with you; it is you who is tormented by your decision.
You have no right to look at me that way.
But then, maybe you do.
You chose this path.
I can say it once more if you rather.
I am not angry with you, rather reminding.
I made sure you read the small print.
You saw the scars and still you have the audacity to be appalled upon spying my truth.
It amuses me more than anything, I suppose.
Come to me,
Go ahead an
awarenessat what age do youawareness4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
find horror in your own self?
erase your poems?
stopwatches, literally.i am dangling here,stopwatches, literally.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
waiting for gravity.
there is a man,
his eyes as dark as death,
who sits in his kitchen
listening to the hum
of the rusted refrigerator
and the beat
of his own failing heart.
with his frigid fingers,
he stops the clock
above the stove.
there is no time,
i am dangling here,
protrudes from my mouth,
like a macabre bird
from a cuckoo clock.
the man in the kitchen
has stilled the clock.
i had muttered,
and stilling my own clocks,
with my own cold, cold hands.
i am dangling here,
waiting for the paramedics,
as the clocks refuse to tick