takes her lessontakes her lesson10 years ago in Open More Like This
The buildings were bowing as far as their lightning rods would allow them,
laying their pot plant leaves before my feet,
amidst the donkey's traffic grunt.
I had been given my messiah,
wedged between two glossy slips of cardboard.
I'm too shy with strangers to say no;
I gained faith thanks to the selfless persistence
of a ten year old.
Except when I closed my eyes
I saw only momentary multi-hued memories
on the back of my lids.
But that's okay, that's okay,
I had a smile on my face
and god in my hand.
I opened my eyes to:
eager profit prophecies dangled as neon halos,
perched to guide imprudent eyes
- since when were inanimate objects so attention-needy? –
and I had stumbled
But that's okay, that's okay,
because once I coughed it away
I was still there with my glossy book
burning like money in my pocket.
(Maybe when there are only overly ornamental churches
built as architectural feat
rather than practical rock foundations built for bodies rather than brains,
Chalk OutlinesChalk Outlines9 years ago in Surrealism More Like This
Hold my hand.
and together we'll walk into darkness. side by side.
not to be torn a part.
our dreams trying to lead us into different directions.
We let them die.
like our stories. our friends. our hopes. our wishes.
they got old and worn out. We'd do anything to be together.
(We are a puzzle.)
the 2 of us.
leaving the world around us incomplete
like a big puzzle that's lost it's pieces.
(We were a puzzle.)
we outlined ourselves in chalk. again.
to keep us safe. to stop the outside world from drawing us back.
drawing us a part from each other.
To belong to something that didn't rightfully deserve to
so we came back
and killed it.
everything was alright.
at least for a while.
then he came.
Compare Our Love To The SeaCompare Our Love To The Sea10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Is it possible to fall into each other,
Blending our souls and melting our hearts together
Our strength is not that of the sea
Which pushes lovers together and pulls them apart.
Our love is deeper; it is the thread that runs through all this
It cannot wear away although the ocean protests
As we grow older, love becomes younger
And at the moment of our deaths, we will see our love's rebirth.
I'm SorryI'm Sorry8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
today I accidentally
killed your ladybug
tangled in my mess of hair
onto my shoulder
not thinking I grabbed
for the tickle and
with a fingetip
on her round
and I watched her fade
FragileI'm okay with beingFragile7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
gripping the folds of too-big sweater,
like an extra skin
to compensate for her own,
pulled tight over a collection
I'm okay with being
while yet imagining her hip bones,
to be hips
knowing that she would never
achieve the hourglass femininity
I'm okay with being
in apartment b16I throw you as I hear the widow cryin apartment b1610 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
beneath us. I imagine
her to have a veil of make-up running
down her face, or maybe she is bent
in the shadow
of a crucifix or a sun catcher,
starving for some light.
I heard she once went bicycling
over the dry dirt
roads of Italy, and chased the man
she loved into a private
Then in Boston, or New Haven,
she would laugh, throwing
her stockings to the wind
as she watched them parachute
down where the children
They would smile ,
and life would begin.
But, really, as we drag and pull, she
is gone. She has moved past Amber
Street, and has taken
to baking breads,
and holding them
in her arms
as she once held
Surreptitious FutureSurreptitious Future10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Disturbed by a smack to the belly,
my bitter rain from the cloud unburdened
stains the bedroom carpet.
Rushed to clear the wasted future
breathing no more sensitively than a tree
my husband breaks the band of marriage -
leaves the deranged existence.
He will not consider mortal pain,
my desire to please the eager mother inside:
my body curls to join the life on the floor.
Of carved paper, and caved stomach,
the pretty baby no longer intact,
hot water called for and senseless oblivion -
drifts beyond the shaded soul of pencil grey.
Gentle Man at RestGentle Man at Rest10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Stooped and haunted, the gentle man at rest
sleeps soundly, undisturbed, in Sunday best,
asleep ensconced in brittle timeless fire,
and seeking tryst with all of Man's desire.
This poet's words not pure enough to soothe,
nor sharply tainted, cause enough to bruise
the sleeping ego, neat and trim, inside
disrupted harmony - a vulture's pride.
The closed and hidden eye has seen it all,
and shouldered all necessity; to call
it living is to leave it all undone -
the vicious twist of life's true form has won.
Pinnacles of PerfectionPinnacles of Perfection10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The weather is changeable, and full of fruit:
a zesty tang to carve the edible cradle of trees.
Green hued pianists fingertips nimbly dance,
infatuated twigs lust for a young bud
and, when achieved in woody splendour,
plush green embellishment, ever upwards turned.
The youth drenched weed gazed in earnest wanting,
encrusted within his stamen was an anarchists mantra.
Calm the release to trust of life's dangerous procreatives,
mistrust the signposts and lose the generation.
Hearts are inept to emotive confusion,
yet each excretion of sound plays with youth's deafening muscle.
Startled, the truth-raven ruffles feathers to pristine clarity,
suffering in quiet subtlety the bravery of the young.
Erections of wisdom push out of his womb,
lines formate rubbing his eyes, exhibiting the progression of life.
Follow the bend and swirl of the branches,
and evaluate the weight of delicate caresses.
Drink Nectar from the war torn leaves,
they stand swift as masculine flowers and love with hearts wid
Emphatic NoddingEmphatic Nodding10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I will wear my thong.
it is only a wedding.
sod the rest of you.
On ParabolaOn Parabola9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
With subatomic subtlety settling on his brow,
he said 'Time's a broken arrow
that points from then to now.'
Once a grain, I entreated him
to stop this flow of sand,
'You're immersed in the irreversible
until, entropical, I land.'
In that glass all is hours,
the busted bucket and the spade,
and each collapsing castle
that our spilt ice cream made.
Since his hands are tide
we can all be shore,
when the sediment slides
there is no more.
Sweet ObsessionSweet Obsession10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My nights are filled with dreams of you,
holding hands as the sweet sun sets.
Heartbeats grow faster, but I slowly break,
these memories of you I will never be able to erase.
I weep from the inside out,
every teardrop counting every moment spent with you.
Nourishing them like a garden of roses,
as I long for you more and more with each passing day.
Never tell me it's just my imagination,
but your smile tells me that you're insecure.
You choke your pillow every night trying to hide the truth,
how much you need me too.
Just tell me that you're hurting,
and I'll find the strength within to save you.
I promise I'll keep you safe from the darkest of storms,
and cherish all your secrets deep within my soul.
My, my, my,
TrainTrain11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Where are you going my train(?)
with a clank-and-grind steady movement,
and red blink
I could hop on, hobo-style
and ride to San Fransisco
on stale bread and a sway of Jack Daniels
howling with Ginsberg
in the clankity night of
refugee-riding away from conformity.
Travel on the road
with my good friend Jack,
who's got the look of highway in his eyes,
small-talking into crazy dreams
and ending up in Mexico.
And me and Walt,
we could sing the song of ourselves
to every passing black cow in Iowa
and still have room for laughter.
hop on and never get tired,
howl and travel and sing,
but each time I hear that whistle blow
my mind says get off the tracks,
but my heart starts running for the clankity-clank, clackity clack.
YAY VALENTINE'S DAYYou're an Idiot, and Here's WhyYAY VALENTINE'S DAY8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
(Valentine's Day Love for KakuHidan)
When first introduced to Hidan, Kakuzu tried to be pissed at having such a ridiculous partner. However, at the mention of the religious man's apparent masochism, he couldn't help but imagine the perks of such a relationship.
Kakuzu often thinks he's loosing his mind… but Hidan is always there to pull him back from the brink, whether with a scream of pain or the sweetest sort of kiss.
This is close enough to heaven, Hidan imagines as he curls closer to Kakuzu's chest, Dying can wait.
The screams of the dying are like hell for the religious man, but he's given up that argument. Let Kakuzu do as he pleases, he figures, we'll enjoy hell all the better that way.
Regardless of the time, when Kakuzu gives him that gentle kiss, Hidan sees stars.
His opinion hasn't changed- his partner's religion is still tedious and pointless… but sometimes it's nice to know that someone is
HideHide10 years ago in Open More Like This
my frightened soul
the blanket of sympathy tightens
i am smothered
by meaningless words
a whisper of tranquil turmoil
i feel in my heart
escape from within
i break free from guilt
the ropes of pain cut deeper still
binding my anchored heart
i can't move away
out of this chaotic phase
i pass through in a daze
escape from within
into your gaze
i tumble and fall
i loose the thread of light
surrounding the hole of doubt
that remains in its rainbow form
never reaching its end
forever chasing false hope
into your gaze
Regal ChildRegal Child10 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
reach inside my mind.
unravel the happiness
to find my reasons.
the pensive father,
deciding the small one's fate:
I will hold you now.
the sound of laughter
tickles my senses awake:
my small baby boy.
wear my crown, my son.
clothe yourself in majesty,
and rule this land well.
New Eyes Looking OutNew Eyes Looking Out9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Fight for hardship altered,
to shun the regal power of Temptation
and block the circle's hold on Change.
Control keenly kept;
the diversity of Challenge won
over at last perhaps.
Heal a spirit burned by silence;
turn a hand to head the sign of Passion
consumed and tormenting inwards.
Question stability bound in wealth;
the onyx eagerly awaits new Life
while trussed in silver.
Retribution twists within many patterns;
lease the house of tinder and ballast
to float a folded napkin showing Truth.
Fight for hardship altered,
for Freedom's leash extended and
the eyes of shaded pearl still electric.
Love Poem..Love Poem9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
last night I made a man
out of pillows and forgotten
fragments of clothes
we'd pushed into my drawers.
I held my pillow-man's hand
and made sure he wasn't too warm
because it is summer;
I'm on the second floor;
and that was always your
this morning I tried to shower
but would turn off the water and run
like a soapy dog, complete with
loyal tail wagging, to the door
thinking you'd come knocking.
tomorrow will taste like
the food of a week ago
and I'll wear sunglasses,
which, if you know me,
(and you do)
will seem out of context
and like a little girl
playing dress up.
I know there are supposed to be
radio love songs, movies with Meg
Ryan and wondering when we'll meet
doesn't budge on the details.
ThoughtsThoughts13 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
In the months that I've spent on deviantART, I've met numerous people of all ages and from all walks of life, joined together as a community by a single entity: the love of and for art. It didn't matter whether one was into poetry, wallpapers, 3D abstract images, prose, indyart or freehand; what mattered was the love shared for works that spilled forth from heart, soul and mind.
Many times have I sat in front of my computer screen and cried for no other reason except for the fact that I was, clichéd as it may sound, moved to tears. Some works I understood more than others, and this was because deviantART not only allowed us to share our works: it let us interact, meet, greet and debate at large whatever the topics may be. The community that existed here was a step above others, because it was not based purely on interaction or art alone; both elements combined gave an even more honest view into an individual's soul and personality, and with that, knowing a person made their works conta
Stone Kings and Loved KingdomsStone Kings and Loved Kingdoms10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
This pencil is my spirited javelin,
more nurtured than a rock,
more caring than a spider of doubt:
I am a writer, always travelling.
See here, this open notebook without words,
all tangled in mind silk,
all threatening and bleak, shadowless:
how can I tempt the twists of thought to call?
How I feel the ache to grapple stories,
light a candle to talk,
encourage night to give up secrets:
I field the words like noble warriors.
Imagine stone-built kings enthroned in white,
Greek marble, and carved love,
entrap the beautiful characters:
I plague my little soldiers on the page.
I cast my artistry upon the world,
unfitting and unsought,
the battles to be fought are not won:
and the curved majesty of stars escapes.