The MaskThat man with a mask who has no face
An inconspicuous mask he took in place
Who has no personality it would appear
For deep discern he seems to fear
This world apart in which we live
To his relief I could not give
That power in order to part away
From synchronization I tried to sway
From all the others whose faces hid
And I shall not hide as others did
I shall not fear who I will be
I shall not fear what others see
The Gluttony Amongst MenMan and woman sitting in a the study playing a game of chessThe Gluttony Amongst Men5 years ago in Drama More Like This
Actor 1(Laughing haughtily)Is not life extremely blunt at times?
Actress 1(Impassive)Not at all, in fact, I find she is quite the opposite.
Actor 1(Curiously)How so?
Actress 1(Mussing and impassive, but some what passionate)You see life is extremely fond of whispering lies to us. She states to us in our most naive times, particularly our childhood, that if we want something enough all we must do is reach for it and grasp it in our hands. We ravin this thought like it is the sweet fruit from an enchanted tree, or the finest roast at a dinner. We grow up believing this from the prime of our youth, that we do, indeed, soon find ourselves striving for a dream we crave so badly. So when a person reaches out towards a man in want of their eternal company and companionship they are met back with the same desire that brought them there. Both pa
The Peaches in the PeachboxMy mother asked me what hadThe Peaches in the Peachbox6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Happened to the peaches in the peach box,
But I could not utter the words.
My hesitant teeth bite into soft,
Fuzz covered skin,
Juice drips down my elbow
As I devour the tender fruit.
It seems almost sinful,
To destroy something so perfect.
And wonderfully innocent.
My mother asked me what had
Happened to the peaches in the peach box,
But I could not utter the words.
HeartI know my heart once seemed to beatHeart6 years ago in Other More Like This
The taste of loss, to me, was sweet
For I was never fully there
I was away in frigid air
I know my heart did beat.
I know my heart was once untouched
And on this day you came and clutched
It close to yours and called me back
Then body and mind were both intact
My heart was once untouched
I know my heart was bleeding now
It's battered from your one avow
That took the form of a sharp blade
You broke me. Call a spade a spade
My heart no longer beats.
PhoenixAnd that is how she was born...Phoenix6 years ago in Open More Like This
From ashes to fire and back,
From a drop to a waterfall below,
From a scar to a hole in the sky,
From a word to a beautiful lie.
And that is how she has felt,
Singing and weeping inside.
And that how she has left
The cold world playing aside.
And that is how she has dreamed
About rains and thunders and winds
By that time she truly believed
That beside them, there she lives.
But the truth was splashed in her face.
Such a cool and sweetish poison.
Around her wrist a dark scarlet lace...
Blue eyes await execution.
Defiance'Beautiful' has rules -Defiance5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
sculpted skin, plastic, flawless
full blood lips, no smiles.
I'd rather have (chalk)
laugh lines, scribbling the sky and
grass that smells happy.
A Pretty Fake PrettyYou know you're pretty pretty,A Pretty Fake Pretty5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And somehow I'm pretty sad.
You're still pretty oblivious,
And that makes me pretty mad.
And you're still pretty stupid,
And I'm still pretty lost,
And I think all these pretty words
Aren't worth the ugly cost.
You're happy in your pretty world
While I'm stuck in this pretty lie,
You're spoon fed a pretty life,
While I'm hiding all these pretty cries.
So tell me, doesn't that look pretty nice?
Daddy will pay for all the pretty junk.
And I know all this pretty stuff
Isn't what I would trust.
So listen closely, pretty little pretty girl.
One day your life will be pretty over,
And you'll see through all the pretty lies,
And I'll be right beside you,
This is what it looked like
The entire pretty time
I'll meet her again...Its Samhain. The line between the spiritI'll meet her again...6 years ago in Sestina-ween More Like This
world and our own is a ray of moonlight.
Its the night when the reluctant soul sticks
to our plane, hovering - a withered rose
whose beauty is the figment of a dream;
a gleam gilding the surface of the lake.
For long hours of idyll would the Lake
poets revel in letting their spirit
soar free on the nightingales wings, and dream
of glimpsing their Muse clad in pure moonlight
but tonight magics afoot: clouds just rose
to blur the moon like fumes from incense sticks.
The Romantics habit of rambling sticks
to mind tonight, as I stroll to the lake
and sit down to recall the violent rows
wed have every night, before her spirit
gave itself over to the bland moonlight
and chose to rest and die, not live and dream.
But perhaps tis I thats strayed in a dream?
For in that small nest, fashioned out of sticks,
I see her visage, painted in moonlight.
I glimpse a lady traversing the
addiction.damn, it's addicting.addiction.6 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it's when your touch brings the voices of the angels up in heaven to me, just to sing a song of joy. it's when my heart starts beating double-time when you're less than 10 metres away from me. it's when i tell myself i know every inch of your body - because i do -, from the curve of your hipbone to the sharp edge of your nose to the oh-so-lovely dimple in your cheek.
it's so addicting that it starts to burn, flames licking my insides like it was blood to the heart.
it's when i can't be in the kitchen because it's where you fed me ice cream with marshmallows that were a little too hard for my liking. it's when i can't bear to lie on my living room couch anymore, because there's a stain of coke where i accidentally sprayed it all over you from laughing too much. it's when i can't look at myself in the mirror without thinking of your fingers on my face.
it's so addicting that i know i'm going crazy.
it's when my body hurts to the point it'
Yin and YangWe lie asleep in the warmth of a mountain;Yin and Yang5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
high enough for me,
low enough for you,
perfect because of us.
My feathered wing drapes over your thick-skinned chest;
you say you like the feel of it.
The tips of your elbows poke gently into my back;
an embrace which I would never trade.
Your tail wraps around my legs, which are entwined with yours.
Our mouths touch time and again to remind ourselves of us.
Moon and sun and stars--like the eyes of love--pinwheel above us.
We are so opposite, and yet we are here.
Ends to the Heart's ContentsHot and smooth,Ends to the Heart's Contents6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so warm to the touch.
Purest of feelings,
No lust abides here,
just earnest souls
seeking to test the depths
of each other's beings.
Are we so tired of wanting
that love at first sight has become
Our true love?
Has robbed us of our sight?
Made us beings incapable of seeing
what we feel?
Of hearing what we know?
my soul simply seeks
to hold your tender arms,
feel the warmth of your cheeks,
Hear your laboured breath
as inhibition is cast off
as easily as
our clothes in the corner.
SeltzerCalcium sponge isSeltzer5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
lacking sufficient syrup.
I scowl with each sip.
CharlatansThere was that unexpected duality to it, something ofCharlatans5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a pan, flashing in salt marshes, broken up like old bones,
a war dream served with warmed nuts and Dewars,
drawled civility over upgraded seat assignments and
that Friday afternoon sense of having dodged the bullet.
Peopled canyons receded beyond lozenges of pitted glass
in that vertiginous sacrament we sometimes mocked,
mere hours since a proud dog-and-pony apparatus
went missing, sucked up barking into granite-clad commerce
and a sky gone gray in January's stolid transaction queue.
As long as they were talking in those soft syllables, those
Scotch-soaked whispers in clouds, those mournful echoed
dead voices--as long as nothing changed too much in other
words--you could vacation against a reclined seatback, take
your rest in plantations of pride and confederate aggravation.
Yes, the south would rise again, on that bullet-dodged Friday
afternoon--something like a flash in the pan, in salt marshes.
Loss, in Five Actsi. ReturnLoss, in Five Acts6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Through a dark tunnel
of bent birch and cedar I walk.
Soft moss on cobblestone. Home.
The tilted bird bath drips with
tea coloured rain. Vines snake up
old walls even as the sandstone crumbles.
Decaying gutters sag with sad, welcoming
smiles, heavy with dead leaves
and the fallout of terracotta tiles.
On her lap, in the evening, swinging
on the front porch chair. Humming
a lullaby, she whispers softly and
marks with a brush of her ringless finger,
magpie and minor, chicken and hen
and then, soft kisses on my cheek for bed.
At the bus stop, she is squinting and waving
and waiting. At hometime, she is feeding the
pigeons every last crumb from my lunchbox.
The garden beds sit like unkept graves,
clutching the roots of dead roses. Row after row
of thorny crucifix. Anemic and budless.
Were they red or white or pink?
That memory is dim. Perhaps something
more obscure. Champagne or chartreuse.
A sudden notion. Todays bl
masterpiece.he's an artist and she's his paint and brush.masterpiece.6 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
she believes in faries and gnomes, and i believe in you + me and everything else that might fall in between, and all he can say as he looks into her eyes and sees the reflection of the stars, is me too.
he believes because she believes, and when she smiles the stars alight with new found light, and he falls in love all over again because he can, and he will. he paints her with colours made of whispers and faith, and she's the most beautiful thing he ever laid eyes on.
when she kisses him, he tastes a mixture of smoke and ash, because she's burns with a passion so strong it takes him all he has to not burn in her, with her. do you believe in fate? and as he watches her fingers dance over white ivory keys, i think i do.
she rolls over in the tall, dancing grass and looks at him. baby, you look exquisite. a mixture of diamonds and pearls and perhaps a touch of love. running a finger down her jaw line, he clos
Nameif this town weren't so busyName6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i'd stand on the rooftop of
the tallest tower,
and as the clock strikes
twelve, chiming each hour,
i'd shout your name,
scream your name
until my lungs run dry.
but then the chiming would
end, and i would climb
back down and
cry my heart out,
your name barely escaping my lips
in whispers between each tear.
that's what i'd do.
With the Strength of a Child His ripped shirt is barely visible in the dust and smoke. He kneels in the rubble, bloody faded jeans loose on his hips, tan skin lined with ragged cuts and bruises underneath. Long dark hair, now dusty white and matted with blood, ripples in the wind like a tattered flag of surrender.With the Strength of a Child6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He can't feel the pain.
Broken jaws whisper of sadness.
Broken voices scream of loss.
And his broken eyes turn toward the ground, shadowed with fear and weakness. He clutches his head in scarring hands, ignoring the sharp debris biting his legs. He stares vacantly at the cracked concrete lying in the dust.
He can't see it at all.
Young eyes glisten with tears.
Inhaling without Smokinglike, umbrellas withoutInhaling without Smoking6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
rain, we are disconnected
and unused concert tickets.
i'm sad, kind of
thinking sometimes, about
how perfect we can never try to be.
could break my heart as well
as you could. & you have
perfect height for heart-breaking.
late at night, imperfect
crude consonants. sometimes
i think it will never end. their attentions
mean nothing next to you.
because i love your laughter and I hate your
shirts and because we have
nothing but conversations
about other people's
Because being with you is
like inhaling without
it is like music without
dancing. it is like
you & I.
breathless.and as he starts to panic, he senses the touch of his fingers on his clammy skin and he's there, softly humming it's okays and i'm heres, and stroking his sticky hair away from his forehead. his heart rate slows to a complete stop as his lips touched his, and for a split second, they were breathless. but as he breathed his own sweetened brand of life into him, his eyes flew open, and his heart started beating again.breathless.6 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
and when he pulls away, he's quiet, lying on his back, and watching as the moonlight hits his hair with a smile.
VIDAI've prodded at this restless heart of mineVIDA6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Counted its pulse in beats and measures
Recalled the moments the tempo changed
And the notes on the page fell off their bars
Our sweet melody- something we couldn't pretend or recreate
Now I stare at this empty page
I refilled the measures with bitterness
My heart recoiled with longing
The trill never left the fringe of my sanity
And it danced wildly when I closed my eyes
I realized that my bitter heart would never reach
Nor my lonely moans
Nor the battle with my bedclothes
Nor the tears so mercilessly wept
You can't hear them
And you will never look back
When will I?
When will I?
I've touched the precipice of my aching
Beyond the ocean between you and I
So many hands have let go of mine
When will I?
When will I?
You see, I'm in a dire state
Of wishing, of waiting
I told you-- I'm a professional in these fields!
But the story ended much differently than we both hoped
Funny how my open wounds inspire that fiery muse
And the re-scabbing, ah-- m
Call meCall me a sinner,Call me6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Call me a fag,
Call me a monster,
Call me a queer.
Call me a human,
Because that's what I am.
Call me a friend,
Because that's what I try to be.
Call me a girl,
Because that's what I am inside.
I am ScyllaPast a shore and shining seaI am Scylla5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Lives a monster- that is me-
With eyes of black- glossy too-
Devours many, spares a few
Dreams- the sailors- moving fast
Through the water- flowing past
I am Scylla. Plucking them,
Eating all the dreams of men
Crunching what is left of hope
Leaving sailors mourning- cope
They must- but never heal
So many dreams I seem to steal
Past a shore and shining sea
Lives a monster- that is me-
Hope is won when looking past
Charybdis with her waters- fast
I approach to kill your dreams
I am Scylla. Start to scream.
I AmI am the keeperI Am5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
As the golden sun sets
I am a seeker
Of your personal debts
I am the reaper
Of many a gold dream
What a heart-thwarting scheme
Falling deeper, deeper
I am the calling
Of total surrender
I am the falling
Of a virgin's splendor
I am the mauling
(As a heart bleeds in two)
Of the fortunate few
The heart stalling, stalling
I am the tolling
As truth rings a loud
I am the killer
Of hope that you've found