ScrutinyAnd when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,Scrutiny6 years ago in Open More Like This
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
~ T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
I am going through the keyless gate
to watch and wait,
to wander here and there among the proud,
among the white and old whose wisdom rots, repressed, untold:
the soporific royals wreathed in leaves of gold.
And to them I shall read aloud from the Book,
read of the sins their lips have took
and upon me they shall look and patiently reflect
I am lost in my own depth, I will say
in a slight, impartial way
(for I lack violets and an antic princes love)
and they, floating through their channels deep
dare to drown me in my sleep and in their orisons remember
So shall I be a queen bone and ash,
of crawling worms and sullied, melting flesh.
Kissed by death, I shall burn upon a pyre
knowing only distance and desire and, rising from the fire,
I shall step with soft, unfettered feet
i am falling with youi.i am falling with you6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
there is no need in this, only want.
i fear for my safety, and you know this.
i dont know if i should be disturbed by your telling me that you would kill them if they ever hurt me, and yet you are nearly a man too. i am disturbed by how far i let you in and i am glad you cant see how you are the one who could hurt me most of all, and
only the trust i have in you will prevent that eventuality.
i have always been an obstinate creature. my mother spent years telling everyone who asked how i spent days clinging to the inside of her womb, unwilling to come out with the rose-tinted, nostalgic wisdom of infants. maybe it was obduracy. maybe it was fear.
you are the only one who could undecide me, and you have. and i am.
you watch me open the door to you in my dressing gown, warm from the water of recent showers. are you sick? you ask, taking me in as i let you in, because you know i only ever
IcarusYou've set me upIcarus5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To fly on paper wings
Stuck together with wax and twigs
A mockery of birds and angels
You said I'd love the sky
Call it my friend some day
That the sun would glide on them
These wings, these imitated things
So tell me father, Why am I falling
If you so carefully prepared
Then why am I scared, so afraid
As the Earth rises up to meet me
FlyFly8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The great fallacy of my generation is
the foolish belief that one can take
two beautiful birds (each with
a single broken wing)
sew them together
oh so tight
The Patron Saint of TragedyMy wings are stained and batteredThe Patron Saint of Tragedy5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Torn and scattered to the wind
And hopelessness finds a place in my heart
In the centre of my earth, gnawing at my roots
So on faded marble white steps I,
With my head in my hands
And my soul squarely in my mouth,
Try in vein to keep the bile from spilling out
I can't even shut out the screaming voices
Or sniff out their malignant sources
Just left to my own devices
With a clockwork soldier for my mind
Our happy ending flutters in the cupped hands of Fate
With me at it's mercy, every movement, every thought I dictate
Belongs to him, and I am in his debt
Without whom I would never have known that heaven existed
My eyes are getting cold, and dull to the flame
My reason is dying out, soon to leave a hollow wooden shell
Like hell, I'm letting it take you to its depths
Don't wait for me, I'm coming with you
Love In A MouseholeBecause we would not show our love like wares,Love In A Mousehole5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Like bright and nacreous baubles fading fast,
Displayed for all to see at passing fairs,
The world of cynics claimed it should not last;
Yet who are they to say what sacred things
Have slipped between the cracks of mortal sight
And slid to rest upon the lustrous wings
Of something less than wrong and more than right?
And there in some forgotten, downy lair,
Concealed within but slinking ever higher
Along the groove that shields it from the air,
It spins to higher heights than eyes aspire.
And thus our love by loving in a chink
Can grow more deep and high than man can think.
Capturing the Midnight Skylooking upon the midnight sky as the clouds drift,Capturing the Midnight Sky6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like voyagers among the stars, and I wonder
if I could find a net large enough to capture the sky
could you ever love me...
and I open my arms out wide as if trying to embrace the wind,
and if I breathe deep enough, my heart might start beating again.
but i hear only silence as I try to gather my composure
and learn to stand on my own two feet
yet it's hard to stand when you were once on a cloud
but when t
Honey, I'm Not Strong EnoughMaybe we couldHoney, I'm Not Strong Enough5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
keep eachother like
a secret or a postcard from
a time when
metamorphosis fell like rain and
looking felt like conversation and
I was "beautiful" and
you were "everything".
When we were
in tune with the powerlines and
And you could visit me and
no one would have to know,
just make sure you
wipe your feet on your way out.
And before you go
let me breathe you in because
I always loved the way you smell.
I kept that tshirt you lent to me so that
sleeping didn't feel like sickness.
The Poet's DreamLast night I dreamt that life was sleeping,The Poet's Dream6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And a man held in his keeping
All the souls of all the dying,
Cold and crying, lost and lying,
Harvest of the reapers reaping
And Gods vacant sighing.
With troubled mind I paused his pacing,
Asked him, though my heart was racing,
Will I, sir, end here someday
With all these souls like pallid clay?
Tell me what it is Im facing
And whether I will end this way?
The man just laughed and turned aside,
But still the truth he could not hide;
Said, When you wake upon the morrow,
One day hence will fall your sorrow,
For nothing pushes Death aside
That you can beg or borrow.
I cried out then and cursed my fate,
Can I not my own Death abate?
A poet I, and think while living
What fair gifts I have been giving
To this world of fear and hate
With poems that breed forgiving.
If that is so, my child, he said,
Death may not be your lot when dead,
For though you soon must pass away
of doorknobs and love poemsyou remind me ofof doorknobs and love poems5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the stars in the sky,
the key under the doormat,
(when its pouring
and i locked myself out)
a whispered promise,
last piece of a jigsaw,
and a brass doorknob
that opens up to my heart.
if you loved me you would callWe could talk about bad TV andif you loved me you would call4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how I came home to a swarm of flies,
attacked them with hairspray and a shoe,
the book I read last night or a song that
reminded me of who you used to be -
if you loved me you would call and
the sound of your laughter would
make the world seem a bit smaller and maybe
I would sleep wrapped up in different dreams.
Instead of writing someone else love letters
and the quiet of my nights telling me what I knew
from the start. Maybe you never did
feel the way you wanted to.
my words aren't enough.one day i will findmy words aren't enough.4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
a way to tell you just how
amazing you are.
Threesomei.Threesome3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In the start, our budding love unfurled
Like poppies strewn across the morning sky,
And we within their depths lay drugged and curled.
In its prime, our love thrilled like a touch
Of lips on limbs, until a shadow crept
Into our bed and made a third too much.
In the end, our love sloughed off in sheaves,
Like light impaled upon the evening sky
Shedding sanguine streaks across the leaves.
Dream JobIf I dressed for the job I wanted, I'd be wearing a spacesuitDream Job4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When I grow up, I want to reach enlightenment
on the summit of Olympus Mons,
meditating on the words of Arthur C. Clarke
"there are no mountains on Mars."
This is what imagination risks.
Exploring we discover not that our knowledge is flawed,
but that we do not dream hard enough.
Even in the beginning, God expected us to name the world.
And we could only utter stumblings in that Ur-tongue,
inventing the invention of ideas.
Even before we tasted the tree,
even before we knew that we could ever be wrong,
we clung to the referential alchemy of language.
This world we think we've tamed
has mastered us, instead, because we mistake
our words for things.
Mystics and medicine men have been
trying to free us from our trespasses
So, I will listen to the sands of Mars,
build a tabernacle with red stones, and sing
a song of loss. Call out to that old dream that makes us young,
ComusThis chair, O brothers lost, is made of thorn,Comus3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
So tight it claws my garments to its breast
And pierces my heart, my virtue worn
To ribbons with the tension of this test.
O Comus wild, why force me with your voice
When aching close your lovely self draws near?
Your power would deprive me of my choice,
Yet had you left me free to wander here,
Of my own will, I might have loved you still.
The Grammar GangstersBeware the grammar gangsters!The Grammar Gangsters6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The mafia of the literary underworld.
They saunter into stanzas,
Under their trench coats
Or in violin cases.
They can make you talk,
"With just a few well-placed speech marks,"
Leave you shouting! Where you should have whispered!
And pulp your bold statements into quavering questions?
They can, pepper, your, phrases with, commas,
Or bring your piece to a dead.
They'll trap you (between brackets)
As you - dash - to the exit.
Then: punch a blunted colon
Into the gut of your text
Force-feed you a poisonous semicolon,
Then hack/slash your work to shreds.
The grammar gangsters
Never leave survivors.
Readers discover the victims
In the back alleys of the library,
In a tommy-gun ellipsis...
Oracle StonesOh, child.Oracle Stones3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I can cup you in my hands.
You have built yourself
of ice or marble -
you are cold to the touch,
but from you dawns the warmth
of Michelangelo's caresses.
Your lucid curves
shimmer in my palm,
unassuming moebius rings.
I run my thumb along
your sand-smoothed wrinkles and creases,
barren newborn mountain range -
drops my fumbling fingers
off the edge of the world.
Scared little skeleton creature,
you hold tight to yourself
but your blind Tiresias-eyes
weave themselves into my veins,
hungry for something
that can only be said in blood.
Small cloud-being, dense as iron
pressing its huddling form
into a cushion of nerve endings,
timid stone-flesh creature -
you must have a warmth within,
pulsing red and purple cloth,
if I only dig my fingers deep enough.
BitterblackI am the crumpled heap so many have been beforeBitterblack5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The one with gritted teeth and bloody wrists, lying on the floor
Who bites his tongue to hide his shame
Who hurts his loved ones and embodies the blame.
I am the thousands of tears that led up to this moment
Who only needed to be warmly wiped away for comfort
The senseless thinker who can take it no more
The sad and the sorry one, who shuts and locks his door.
I am the fears and insecurities,
The doubts and unhappy families
That haunt the world today
I am the one who's selfish acts
Have turned the world to grey
With roses black and coffins concealed
I am the wound in you that has not yet healed.