AnorexiaI hate youAnorexia9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
For what you did to me
But even more
I hate you
For what you did to her
Why can't you see
How beautiful she was
How beautiful she could be
How do you sleep at night
Knowing well those you've taken
Stolen from those that love them most
Driving us all insane
Forced into slow suicide
Does it even slightly faze you
That you are
The dark side of Glamour
The unbearable unbearable pain inside
Making it visable through scars
Hidden underneith baggy clothes
They'll never know of our relationship
Hold me in your arms
And sing me to my final sleep
shove a paintbrush up your assyou fucked my heartshove a paintbrush up your ass5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like a colouring book:
blank pages, ripped,
thrown across the outline
of the bed or the balcony,
contamined by a chunk of green wax
scribbling a monochromatic platitude.
trace the veins with a felt-tip marker;
maybe a ballpoint pen the size of the
pacific ocean, the colour of the moon;
maybe an empty crayon box beneath
a toddler's pillow fort --- that kid, you
stole his crayons to colour something
else you stole. but he couldn't colour
in the lines, and neither can you. you
cut them, lying all the way to the front
of the queue. you cut the silhouettes,
the ones you're too lazy to add red to.
and it reminds me of how you
cut my blackandwhite arteries
and leave a trail of unfinished
cartoons on perforated scraps
of paper, ergonomically wrong
and adorned with dried up ink
to match the dried up emotion
you filtered through.
add red because you lit my soul on fire.
add blue because you're like cyanide.
add yellow because your eyes shine
The Cardboard MenThe Cardboard Men5 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
There is a cardboard world,
in which cardboard men, live their cardboard lives;
In their neat cardboard homes, with their pretty cardboard wives.
They work all day, in their cardboard cells,
chasing cardboard money, to buy cardboard things;
to buy fancy cardboard cars, and expensive cardboard rings.
They frolic in the evenings, in their cardboard clubs,
With their cardboard friends, getting cardboard highs;
Hunting sweaty cardboard salvations, between smooth cardboard thighs.
They lie at night, in their cardboard beds,
With cardboard victims, shedding cardboard tears;
For evil cardboard villains, with their sad cardboard leers.
They shrivel and sag in their cardboard rain,
Under the cardboard guilt, of their cardboard lies;
Of vile cardboard betrayals, of feeble cardboard goodbyes.
They stiffen and bloat in their cardboard sun,
With their cardboard pride, in their cardboard wins;
In their Judas cardboard friends, with their pious cardboard grins.
They all freeze in their cardboard cold
first-class funeral cheers.stick a post-it note on my head and stick me in a drawer as if you'll remember me in the morning. but you won't. not unless i cry, not unless i scream, not unless i throw my words against the walls until you hear the pulse, hear the beat of millions of phrases and definitions and images as wild as jungle throats and murdered lemons.first-class funeral cheers.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
beautiful and tragic, gorgeous and oh, my word, isn't she a genius? but they all boil down to one thing: you're gone. you aren't here. your absence is everywhere. i've erased the ends of my fingertips because they look lonely; i've shoved my hands in the garbage disposal because that's all i am. it's not pathetic, it's just life. it's just realities [a million and two different versions of the same tragedy].
my thoughts are wild, unbridled and, let's face it, stupid. they're suicide jumping off the edge of my tongue. you aren't here to fence them in and the natives are restless. they're leaping brick and mortar and cliff and stone. you aren't here. if i rep
The Devil's TuneI sought the Devil's playing once --The Devil's Tune4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It was a scorching night.
I thought he'd like an audience
Who wouldn't want a fight.
I found him in the Farmer's field
Beneath a lidded moon,
And so I crossed the field as
The Devil played his tune.
The tell you that his skin is red,
And he'll have hooves instead of feet;
But I'll tell you now, within that field
It was a man that I did meet.
At first he kept on sawing at
That sweet old fiddle's strings
With a tune that didn't quite sound right
But told me many things.
And when his song was finished
His lips in speech did part,
And I could hear the troubles
That weighed upon his heart.
"Did you come to talk of morals,
Or all that I do wrong?
That is usually the reason why
You humans stop my song.
Did you come to ask for mercy,
Or for me to save your soul?
For if you are a broken man
I can't make you whole."
Those words he spoke were heavy
Where his song had been so light.
"Well if you don't mind, I'd listen some more."
Was my reply that night.
this person's lifesix of us kids,this person's life5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
three of us gone,
dad in 1951.
mom lingered on
years too long.
i'm the agnostic one.
so i sit here trying to justify,
though it all remains a mystery -
as one by one,
we'll all be done.
what remains of me
will be just some poems?
is this the meaning of life?
llp - aug2010 - dA
myself and ii'm not alone when i'm with myself,myself and i5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the internal me and i;
we're a partnership,
in looking at the world and life,
we've long seen - eye to inner eye.
we consider peceptions;
what did i see?
and, as time goes by,
does he indeed still agree with me?
he seems serene to sit in the back,
to process things from his secret scene,
allows me to make a fool of myself,
then tells me i must aspire.
from the deepest of discourse
a covenant is there, duplex respect,
a love, a knowing what to expect -
we've shaken mental hands
when i hug me, i also hug him.
there is no regal 'we' for us.
he and i come to common ground
from disparate routes,
sometimes a bit rough.
all memes and biases are
at his disposal,
my conscious cognition,
[still dependant on him],
does take some time.
like me, he's flawed,
but he's super-efficient!
no, i'm not alone when i'm with myself,
and am thankful for 'relative' constancy -
this discursive cumulative me.
llp - aug2010
Him and HerHim and Her9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It wasn't meant to be like this,
it wasn't meant to happen,
He weren't meant to fall for her,
She wasn't meant to fall for him.
She didn't want to do,
she didn't want to get hurt.
he was afraid,
he didn't know she felt the same.
She so desperately wanted to tell him,
He desperately wanted to hold her.
Her mind was made,
her mind was set,
she had to tell him just how she felt.
For she had fallen hard for him,
He had no idea.
She didn't want to hurt him,
she knew she couldn't stay.
Deep down inside she knew,
it was worth the chance.
Just to hold him that one time,
she knew it was what he wanted,
he had told her himself.
He'd told her he was falling,
she'd told him she'd be leaving.
Hurt him it did do,
She hurt to know she'd done this.
But she knew she had to tell him.
So here I am,
if you think its worth a go,
If you think its worth the chance,
if you think our love is strong enough.
Id like to get to really know you,
to know your fears,
Stupid girlStupid girl9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
can you count?
1 then its a 2 and a 3 for sure
the number of boyfriends
youve had behind your door
times it by 10 then
its a little more
and wonder how many
sneeked out before 4
and its not me who is calling you a whore
only the guy who you dumped
for being to short
its not me but it wouldnt matter for real
cause I would just kick off my high heels
but when you go down its a whole other deal
now we know what you want
everything that you can or cant
get your hands on
and if you cant get it then
you start to sulk
if he takes it away
then you start to shout
thought you were cool
when we went out
its not good though
so baby lets count
4 then a 5 and a 6
its like hopscotch
but in real life your thick
even when I was that young
I wasnt as dumb
you cant take it back now
you dont get none
think your so fly
because you got a car
your parents pay
so you dont go far
is a shame that I had to leave you
the way you are
but I was the only one left
who put up with your heart
cant depend on
full moonfull moon10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Jessica falls away by her own prey
maybe shell wake up
and look at me
maybe shell believe me
maybe she leaves
who really knows
as long as she does what she can
she hates change
prefers them big bucks still
shell never change
just like her daddy who walked out on her
but does she care
when the wind blow through her hair
because shes pinned in a short skirt
running from the cop car
for standing on a corner
even there is no bus
she thinks shes being pretty
looking all glitsy
chewing on gum strawberry
running from the cops that
are after her fast.
Shell buy a dress and then cut it in half
theres really nothing thats too good for her
she really hates it when she forgets to laugh
at the men who try as if they can afford her
but as she walks
she always sells something
she couldnt if she talked
so when everything is as if its hurt.
but then theres this girl in the picture
trapped through the glass
silent and hurt
and didnt graduate
mama wasnt always straight
dad was an alcholic
why faithreligion is for the believer,why faith5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
not the believed in.
why the brevity? - so that
you may take it from here...
llp - jul2010 - dA
The Amateur Turned Artist"That's it," she mumbled to herself. "I will do this!"The Amateur Turned Artist5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She took a deep breath, picked up a piece of charcoal, and made contact with her paper. Her arm moved, stroking the paper. She felt a sigh of pleasure escape her lips as she was a minute into her "masterpiece." This confidence and pleasure did not last for too long. Her strokes grew too thick and dark. In a fit of anger, she slammed the dark demon onto the table, crushing it into pieces.
"What a piece of crap!" she exclaimed, startling the others in the room.
Just as she was about to pick up, destroy, and throw out her attempt, a gentle hand was placed on her shoulder. She looked up to the man attached to the hand that rested on her. He gave a gentle smile, his silent gesture calming her emotions. Understanding this, what seemed to be, insignificant gesture, she carefully picked up the source of her anger, and she placed it in a folder.
She grabbed another piece of charcoal, started with a fresh sheet, and took a few calm breaths b
Peace Forever?those damaging thoughts were scuttling freely throughout my thoughts again, and yet, the enveloping darkness was oddly comforting - some how i cannot manage to distinguish the difference between panic and relief. the wind kept blaming itself for making me cry, whispering those words to me as if they were terribly obvious; and yet, it could not hear me, so what was the point it trying to whisper back how mistaken it was? i only cried because i was so grateful that it was there, filling up my lungs.Peace Forever?6 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
please come back and push these swings higher.
Tom Waits and sippin'Tom sings sadly of old lost loves.Tom Waits and sippin'5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
though his words and songs grate
like a heavy down spout dragged
across rough concrete, we all smile.
and we nod, because...
ahhh, this IS good coffee - steamy, strong
and plain, like the best blues, like his
the sun went down some while ago. how 'bout
a bit of light? or, i could just sit here
sippin' in the dark, pretendin' we're all naked.
wait! leave the lights off!
let's take no chances...
[we don't wanna see Tom without his clothes]
llp - jul2010 - dA
Saving YouDear Jessie,Saving You3 years ago in Letters More Like This
If I could save you, I would.
If hands could mend failing lungs and piece together the shattered fragments of bones;
if fingers could sift through DNA and marrow, pull out the poison clogging up arteries,
siphon fluid bursting from synovial sacs and corroding joints;
if words could build you a bed in the nighttime sky,
string together stars and create a cavern in the crescent moon;
I would blindfold eyes and stitch shut mouths,
covers ears and tie tight hands.
If only I could.
Wait until your tongue is staining the inside of your mouth with lies;
wait until your bones have composed themselves and have been bleed dry;
wait until you're screaming from rooftops, grasping for the sky;
wait until you're holding water in your lungs like air;
wait until you're tearing eyes from their sockets,
popping ear drums and biting your lips raw and hemic.
Wait for then, because you'll know,
you'll know growing up has so much more to do with experience then
Momentarily, I fell.I smoke another cigarette while I waitMomentarily, I fell.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for you, still, for the late ambulance;
and my heart in my hands, the music
in my ears, and you, still, in the ambulance,
and me, without feeling a thing, waiting
I Am- DeconstructedI am the girl with rotten granny smith apple eyes, the girl with hair like rusty copper rods, and with lungs that just can't seem to hold air.I Am- Deconstructed4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I wonder who I am and where I'm going; if this path of stale bread crumbs through thickets and brambles in this darkest of forests truly has a light at the end.
I hear the wheezewheezewheeze of a struggling respirator, the shaky inhale of a last breath, and the final mourning cry of a heart monitor.
I see a piece of art. A canvas stretched across aching hipbones with drastic strokes of a razorblade's edge, dappled with pin presses, and stained with an epistle no one can seem to read.
I want to fly. For my shoulder blades to break free of their fleshy cages and spread wide. To scoop out my marrow, for my body to become streamline, light.
I am the daughter who-
Pretends that every cloud still has a silver lining, that falling stars are worth wishing on, and that four-leafed clovers are hiding among the ordinary in her backyard.
Feels like e
was, gone, rememberedto feel loved enables one to feel love.was, gone, remembered5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all things to which one can evolve
are felt possible -
held in memory,
not the end;
in time love does -
llp - aug2010 - dA
Hush -emo poem-Hush, little baby, don't say a word,Hush -emo poem-5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Mama's never gonna remember what occurred,
If you tell anyone,
Mama's gonna to continue anyway.
If that doesn't work,
You better know how to pray.
You better not stray,
Mama's gonna find you anyway.
If that doves dies,
Mama doesn't love you, that's just a lie.
this twenty-fourin this 24 hoursthis twenty-four5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
know you are loved,
set in the sight of a mind,
desired in the heart of a man,
who waking and sleeping
ponders you, dreams of you,
feels more than can be [or should be] averred.
when he contemplates love, it is you.
know this tomorrow too...
llp - jul2010 - dA
UnfurlGossamer Girl,Unfurl3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
My head knows the maladies of the heart.
Beneath your fragile frame, hidden betwixt ribcages and lattice-lined bone structures, inside your very core- deeper than marrow, inside the nucleus of each and every one of your cells, you are unfurling.
Little Bulimic, you plunge, delve, and curl, spilling impurities on your dress Christmas Eve, a premonition quaking in your bones. You spew words, implicit truths that bubble up your throat and out your mouth, rupture your esophagus and swallow them back up; your lips hemic from polished claws and screaming ulcers.
Little Masochist, you rip open flesh with pinched knives and blades, jam your fingers inside and taste your life. It tastes like decade-old pennies smeared with rust- spent, haphazard, mortified.
Little Gossamer Girl, you are unfurling. Cadaverous body and emaciated bones coming undone, peeling back your flesh to reveal snakeskin, rough and raw- you have shut down your heart and coiled your trachea, cut off the oxygen
ThreadWeaving around us, oh so carelessly,Thread5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Causing knots, loops, and many connections.
It appears to have no intended purpose,
And doesn't seem to have any certain path.
So did we end up attached by chance,
Or do you believe in fate?
Ties that loosened for so long
Are being pulled righter than expected
While we're connected by this thread,
We are not alone.
You with them, them with me,
Too many people for just one string.
Though I doubt that we'll get any closer,
I'll take a chance.
I'll hold on tight, and pull with all my might.
I don't know if it'll work or break,
But for you,
It's worth the chance.
Emo?Emo?Emo?8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is it really that bad?
you cant accept the fact
that i get a little sad?
that i am a little mad?
so i favor black
and i dont like pink
you use those as reasons
to make my soul sink
so some of us cut
and some of us dont
we can smile
laugh love and live
we're just not like the rest
sure we cry
we want to die
but none of you understand
its not like we had planned
to live life like this
to spend our days
depressed and amiss
we're not bad people
we dont worship satan
we're not out to kill anyone
we just dont like the world
as much as everyone else
and we dont like ourselves
as much as we could
but we're ok with that
you can call us ugly
you can call us fat
but you cant change who we are
we are emo
whats so wrong with that?