noodleI'll be your noodlenoodle7 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
and you'll boil me alive,
to make me softer
sober rainthe moon mountains oversober rain6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
this infant night
we listen to winds
it has been an endless day
inhaling and exhaling
bleak beers relax
in our hands
bring us together
soft, like a sponge
we kiss over long-necked bottles
swishing saliva and alcohol
distracted out of mind
rain falls loosely out of the sky
The Last DayThe Last DayThe Last Day8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Don't you ever think I'm not there or that I never cared, it's just your tears that drove me away, they hurt so bad I stop and think for a few days. But I was still fighting by your side weather you where looking straight into my eyes or if I was waiting in the shadows never saying goodbye. Time gose fast so please don't blink I'll still be there when your about to sink, don't worry I promise we will fly someday. Going somewhere so far away living in a castle ontop of the clouds we will be dreaming so loud the world will hear our cries, Even when were gone and died I swear I still will never lie. We take the breath from eachother and allow it back keeping eachother alive, even when our souls have left to the skies, theres no way heavens better than being held by you keeping me toghether through and through. While the world falls apart and hits the ground I still would never trade your smile for a crown, the day melts away just like my haert when you look at me with eyes so
You Poor ThingI am sorry for your skeleton,You Poor Thing5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the way you carry yourself when you walk into a room
like your arms are tied and your mouth is empty and you've been
kept prisoner for a year, waiting for a bird to arrive
at your window. Your eyes are full and I spread my hands and say this;
sorry, like a man abandoning his lover in a cloud of dust. I am sorry for
your eyes, resentful like a North American river.
Sorry, for everything, for your breasts and womanhood.
You are standing on the edge of eighteen
relunctant and awkward; you do not want
to spread your legs wide and let the world drop its' pants
to fuck you. You are standing on the edge of something
looking afraid and saying no,
I don't want any spaghetti. I'm not hungry.
I'm hurting and horrible the way that a person feels
when they shatter the shell of a snail by
accident. I cannot say sorry
enough for your hands, scrabbling at the surface
of a wooden panel unheard, clawing at one another
like you're putting a deer in the headlights
My Heart Always Returns To MeMy sagging heart alwaysMy Heart Always Returns To Me5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Returns to me; cringing
Like a wounded animal,
Tail between its legs, an
India-ink river of blood
Mapped across the kitchen floor.
I blindly follow these maps
Back to myself.
Like a wounded animal it lies
Whimpering and grotesque
On the tiles, flayed and shaking,
Reeking of iron and fur.
In my arms, my little animal
Slackens, shudders, is still for a while.
In it I can bury my breath, my face
As I wait for it to howl.
Se escribe heroe........Se escribe Heroe, pero se pronuncia IdiotaSe escribe heroe........7 years ago in Spiritual & Occult More Like This
Un día común, sin mucho que decir, me levante con el alba y me puse a reflexionar lo que avía sido de mi vida hasta esta mañana en que me levanto, y pensé, que no avía echo nada de valor en mi vida, me di cuenta que vivía como un animal, sin darle un sentido a la vida, simplemente vivía para ver un nuevo sol un nuevo día, y recordé algo que me hizo pensar, retrocedí en el pasado del mundo y me tope con una clase de personas muy únicas, unas personas que lucharon y dieron sus vidas para que las personas que vivimos el presente tuviéramos el sol de una nueva mañana, me detuve un momento recordando a estos "HEROES" y me di cuenta que todos eran personas comunes y corrientes, pero se destacaron por sus acciones por su valor por querer compartir un mensaje al mundo, recordé viejos relatos de combate y me di cuenta que avía cientos héroes que jamás fueron recor
the lonely planet's guideIt was three AMthe lonely planet's guide7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It was three AM
we were talking about
and I was too ashamed
to admit that I couldn't
remember how that felt,
staring stupidly at the
piss-stained bed and then
at the ceiling. There was a moth
the size of my heart and coloured
in like autumn and pain. That's me,
and then threw my shoes at it.
The next day on the metro
somebody had scratched C'EST
A CHIER onto the window
and it was only then that
I felt the papery beating of
winged grief in my
You might think that it's
pretentious to write about
Paris, but that's where I was.
nique ta mère.
I WANNA KISS YOUI wanna kiss youI WANNA KISS YOU6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't care if you're sick
I wanna kiss you
I don't care if you kick
I wanna kiss you
And I don't mind
If you're blind
I wanna kiss you
I don't mind if your lips are dry
I will kiss you even when you cry
I wanna kiss you
I wanna feel your lips
And hold you for your hips
I wanna kiss you
I wanna see in your mind
And your deepest secret to find
I wanna kiss you
I wanna swim in your eyes
And listen everything you say, even your lies
I wanna kiss you
And I don't care if you stab my back with a knife
Couse for you I will gladly give my life
my friend friday My friend Friday spends Tuesday afternoons looking for things that no one else can find. These things are small and blend with the everyday so suitably, that they elude most of us, even after our morning coffee or cigarette. But invariably Friday finds them with ease, and sets them upon my doorstep every Wednesday morning, pawing at my breakfast with his fresh wonders.my friend friday8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I saw a boy die yesterday! He howls, the door slamming behind him. He is not in the same room as I; he is yelling this across my house at 5:30am, eliciting angry grumbles from my somber roommates. Sending the saloons doors clacking and banging, he gushes into our kitchen and tosses a mangled G.I. Joe on the table in front of me. The boy was in the car in front of me. I was driving to work, laughing at NPR, as ya do, and there in front of me, a man was flying, this man! He grins, snatching the disable veteran off the table and waving it in front of me
April's HouseThe man who would be my lover through April had a daughter.April's House11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I showed her Playboys from 1999 and she grabbed at my breasts.
In mid-April my lover's grandmother died in a Michigan hospital.
The night before we had hurried sex on a friend's floor and in his shower.
I lay naked on a dark blue couch watching B list horror movies
with names like Frankenhooker and drank carbonated strawberry wine.
The floor was covered in empty Bacardi bottles and powdered Cheetos
while the bathroom smelled of concentrated bleach and urine.
I could crawl out onto the flat tarry roof through a second story window.
On the fourth of July I sat on the functionless brick chimney and got high.
The roof in South Oakland always reminded me of Mary Poppins.
Vodka coursing through my blood, I danced like a chimney sweep.
A man with bleached hair and long nails filed to a point walked me home.
He said, Margaret, I want you, and I knew I had stayed in a house full of lies.
of storms and skysee my hair dance wild as wind-strings jerk it about//hear the ocean-wind heave itself against us all- crashing into our eyes and mouth//feel the winter-wind brush our skins in summer//then inhale the heaviness of air and sink through the dirt- because darling, you dont deserve gods beautiful violence.of storms and sky7 years ago in Other More Like This
(it drags the tree by its leaves saying kiss your trunk, kiss it and it does; releasing with a snap. the other trees flitter-flutter violently, crying within the cacophony of rain on concrete. white stars fall where light exists, and only sound where it disappears. the sky -the colour of sunburnt skin- watches it all with hunger. and then a moment we are swallowed. gumtrees, rain, earth; we are all night sky now. but our eyes open and the rain is no more, dew on grass. and the wind is no more, only breath.)
The TallyThe Tally11 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
She sits on her pink bed staring at the dinner plate she has put on the floor next to the puke-green garbage can. Dinner tonight is a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, a typical college student meal, but she stares at it like it is the most appetizing thing she has ever seen. Her eyes shine with longing, and a small string of saliva starts to slide down the corner of her mouth. Snapping out of her daze, she wipes her mouth and stares down at the glossy red film on her hand. She averts her gaze to the pack of Djarum cloves sitting on her dresser on the opposite side of the room from her garbage can. Cigarettes. Food. Cigarettes. Food. Cigarettes. Food. Her head, as well as her mind, turn back and forth like she is watching a little green ball at a tennis match. Just a bite. One bite won't hurt.
The Secret Of Fall راز پاییزThe Secret Of Fall6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
با همه ی رازها؛
سرخ و زرد و قهوه ای،
نغمه و آوازها...
رفت و مانده یک نگاه
بر لبه ی پرتگاه
دلهره ی زندگی،
غرش قلب زمین،
جوشش روح دریا،
سرخی قلب من و
Fisher Girl The Fisher-girlFisher Girl4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
And words will fail a girl;
Staring about in this empty grey;
Straining eyes against the frosting fog which lies
Thicker than a shroud about a vault.
(How insignificant one can seem)
No separation exists here, between the heaven and the hell.
A lonely craft and its occupant
Suspended in a monotone
Like a spider in its web.
Friendly, creaking wood;
The stark realism of a tiny spire
Standing like a shot against the empty mist
She is alone
Her sun now hidden
In that rich and tasteless fog.
And her Earth?
Is it a million miles away?
Or does it lie ahead
Perhaps to wound her tiny craft, and leave her
Struck with fears of dying.
Where are the gulls?
Where is her home?
And the sea is so still
And the fisher-girl, does not.
Oh, you dreaded day, you monster!
Do you come to petrify a soul?
If so, go away
Your job is done .
But, it does not
And the sea is lonelier still.
Balancing Acti am to sway hips and sip the mind of an adolescent fromBalancing Act5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my latest cup of tea
things, sing scales while they struggle for even-footing, even after
the sun frowns down
town, i'm walking and tripping on some stones,
(three or four there scattered) flattering my lope with a little extra bounce.
look at me,
look at me
walking home while the jays talk of the weather,
whether or not it will rain tonight and i think
look at me,
look at me
all while spinal chords tingle and
gag reflex threatens
Looking UpEvery person that I pass on the street either looks at me and smiles, or looks down at the passing cracks and scuffed boots that refuse to look back. Not one ever looks up. As a human I feel restrained in this two-way world, and as a stranger I feel helpless.Looking Up8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Did you see the man with the tattered work gloves? How he hid his fingers in his sweat-stained blue jeans and held a staring contest with his steel toes? I wish he knew that I walked by, that if he was to pass by me a second time, a that man looks more tired than the last time I saw him thought could run through his mind. He cant even imagine where hes going because he is too busy stuffing his mind with personal guilt. Nobody blames him but himself: for his menial job, his workaday routine, his solitude.
But I am just assuming here. I couldnt pinpoint this mans face in a lineup, or greet him by his predictable nickname. He would tell me (if he could see me), that the brim of his cap simpl
la machine a ecrire+eng translEn-dehors du reste du monde, le temps ne compte plus, les oiseaux chantent toute la nuit et la police ne sait plus quoi faire. Elle est débordée par notre sagesse denfants, nos idées révolutionnaires et nos jeux trop simples pour notre âge. Seule la pluie pénétrait notre univers et elle devenait ce quon lui disait dêtre; un baume, une confidente attentive qui nous a dit ce quon voulait entendre. On nageait dans lextase, on se roulait dans le sable, on volait dans la lumière dont on faisait ce quon voulait. Elle nous enveloppait de bon cur, nous étions devenus ses enfants, des enfants-lumière comme celui de King et Kubrick. On sest raconté des scénarios impossibles, sans fins et inachevés, des histoires parfaites parce quelles se terminaient avant de mal tourner, dans un décor de film fabriqué juste pla machine a ecrire+eng transl6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
NerdsNerds do wierd things.Nerds8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Nerds play games.
Nerds get involved with all sorts of fictional things,
But nerds do not with people play games.
Instead, nerds desire contact with people,
But for whatever reason,
Be it appearance, shyness with people,
Or whatever else, relationships do not reach nerds reason.
So, nerds orbit their fantasies.
Maybe this defies life and interaction with people,
Or maybe nerds feel happier with fantasies.
Either way, most nerds die without knowing many people.
Nerds know how to treat people,
But most people do not appreciate the ways.
Nerds listen to and give things, affection, and themselves to people.
It depresses me that most women I have met do not like these ways.
Many nerds have dirty minds,
Because many nerds have seen pornography.
Without girlfriends, they pretend to know the feeling of a woman in their minds.
Thus, nerds learn how to pleasure a woman because of pornography.
Nerds do not live exciting lives,
But they have ways of filling womens
leavemedon'tleaveme.you make me sick. you make my stomach fold in on itself and press out against the lining of my flesh. you put lumps in my throat and you tie strings to my tear glands and tug until the world is just a panoply of blurred lines, hazy colour and bokeh.leavemedon'tleaveme.7 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
you made me do this. you put the knife in my fingers and you told me to tear, you said you would care if i hurt myself like this. you said youd care if i opened my flesh up for you like a gift of blood and flesh and tissue. but you never really did.
i like being small, i like being the blue eyed girl sitting amidst background noise, rubber band arms holding the necks of her legs together. i like being the blue eyed girl with hands holding her from spilling in a mess at everyones toes. i like it when theyre your hands.
i try to define you with mental disorders. i say you have schizophrenia and pretend its a valid excuse. im in love with one of your personalities, but the other doesnt even notice