migraine coloured firecrackersfire worksmigraine coloured firecrackers4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Job #1: Roman Candles.
When in rome, do as the romans.
so i guess i should learn italian.
fuochi d'artificio, according to google.
speaking of candles, what ever happened
to that spark between us? oh, wait, that's
right. there never was one. too much wind.
Job #2: Constellation Masquerade.
Pretend to be falling stars:
famine hoax smoke cackles
blinding bright lights. noise,
a lethal amount of decibels.
headache. just like job #3.
just like you. go ruin some
other night sky. your face:
its camouflaged existence
haunts me in every way.
Job #3: Nostalgia, Honey.
I have not once thought about you since,
well, that dream the other night. Besides
that, I have tried to forget about you, yet
Independence Day brings no freedom for
my mind & memory. Because you remind
me of this day & I blame past presidents.
why must you celebrate your
death when i'll never know
SometimesSometimesSometimes4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I lay awake at night
With a tear-stained pillowcase
Thinking about you
While I'm laying there
If you're laying there
Thinking about me too
egypt.when she was youngegypt.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she knew which way
the Nile river was,
no matter how many times
she spun around.
the insides of her eyelids
were encrusted with
her tongue held the tattoos
only a sphinx would
but he came and stole
her egypt, the way a poor man
steals a piece of bread;
to sustain his body, his heart,
his broken lungs
sick of breathing.
and for a while she lived
in the dark, wishing for her
egypt to come back to her
with it's golden sand
and pharaoh smiles.
but her mind was not a mind
without her egypt,
so to the man's house
she moved in the dark.
and with her hands
she claimed his throat
and took her egypt back.
and in the dark
with only spiders
to watch her at her work
she mummified his heart
and stepped back only
to appreciate her
and she whispered,
"Ra, praise; Anubis see:
my egypt has returned to me."
vampire's fatevampire's fate4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Луна неподвижно висела в небе, серебристым светом освещая все вокруг. Иногда ее скрывали тучи, и когда они уплывали, становилось как будто светлее с каждым разом. Белос
perpend.we are anonymous hand holders-perpend.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sipping tea in silence and waiting
for the gravity to pull us down.
floating through the muck of
constellation goo to find
the prize at the bottom
of the cereal box.
and the stars, shine down on us.
and i never thought i'd be here,
wishing these wishes i keep
in my heart. like lonely
children, i horde them and
refuse to share.
so i'll drink a glass of water
so the words i want to speak
won't stick to the roof
of my mouth like peanut-butter;
and one day i'll have
to push through all my doubt
"i love you."
but today, i think i'll just
watch the sunset with you,
laughing like old friends-
holding hands for comfort,
neither of us knowing the
other wants to whisper
the same words.
NOT HUMANOne can no longer be human.NOT HUMAN4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
One must choose.
Or be gay.
MakingIf there's one term I can't stand, it's "making love."Making3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Like I have to reach out with something more and less than my hands
To sow those little pinpricks of feeling, and even then
You might decide you don't need a tree to get some air in you.
Isn't it enough that I can breathe in till the solar system fills my gut
And maybe catch your mouth on the exhale?
Isn't it enough for you to sit here with me and watch the leaves falling
When damp and dreary autumn comes calling,
Our bodies only crossing at arms and legs 'cause we're so shy?
But maybe it's too early to speak;
I've never, for even a second, been in love.
I've been here and back and forward twenty times,
From raptors to Raptures and the in-betweens of space
Only big enough for half a breath and the width of a hair.
I've done every heel turn and kick ball change on my own feet,
And no one told me I had to learn to dance before I could dance.
But what do I care; I can't dance anyway.
And don't tell me you think I don't know wha
boileryou were the boy who cared for the birds in the boiler room. your shoulder blades were folded fabric wings. the giraffe markings on your cheeks mixed with your coffee-coloured skin. you were an indian boy with river sutras and elephant gods. your story was not told through words, but with accordion heart beats, sputtering out emotions like wild fire.boiler4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i opened my rib cage, releasing a paper crane breath into the air. you touched the exhalation with willow fingers and kissed it, almost kissing me. i ran with halted bruises on my knees, afraid this moment would become a forgotten memory. but i can feel the kiss in my breath because you were not just the boiler boy, but a dreamer who taught me how to dream and breathe inoutin with starling lungs instead of paper cuts.
i'm in the is, i'll be the wasdon't kill me now.i'm in the is, i'll be the was4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
kill me next week,
but not right now.
no, not now.
i am like three parallel arrows:
one marked: DON'T TOUCH ME
another marked: DON'T TOUCH
and a third one marked: DON'T
don't kill me now.
kill me tomorrow,
please, not now.
no, not now.
i'm like a KEEP OF THE GRASS
sign in a park. a BEWARE DOG
sign in a yard. a KEEP OUT OF
REACH FROM CHILDREN bottle
[brandnamedrug] &stop signs
&go signs &i don't know signs
DONOT OPERATE MACHINERY
all loud and clear with maybe
!!! !!! !!!
!!! !!! !!!
!!! !!! !!!
!!! !!! !!!
don't kill me now.
kill me in an hour
or six minutes or
six seconds, but
please, not now
[because now i am AM,
am not a questionmark
or exclamationpoint or
factorial or triplearrow
or poem or street sign
or plus sign or anysign
or victimor crimescene
or murder or murderer]
&&& &&& &&&
&&& &&& &&&
&&& &&& &&&
okay you can kill me.
i'm done with the IS,
Falling ApartYou're breaking me downFalling Apart4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
With every word you never said
'Cause what you simply are
Is what I spent forever searching for
And while you take your time
I keep falling apart and coming undone
'Cause I need you to see
That I need you next to me
And while you're out there somewhere
Living it up and enjoying your life
I crawl under the covers
I think back to every night I fell asleep with a smile
And not a burning tear rolling down
'Cause I knew that you'll be there in the morning
To all the times I hoped that somehow you'll notice
To every laugh ,every touch ,every color in your eyes
I wish that I could turn around and be back in that moment
That I can shout your name and tell you everything
All the things I'm afraid to feel
How since you're gone
I'm slowly letting go of everything
How everything is painted black and blue
And I don't remember the last time I saw the light
How I avoid the mention of your name
Just because I want you bad
And every lonely moment
Brings back the same
NPR three minute story submissionShe closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. That low rumble had been Tom's temperamental engine; she was sure of it. The sound had tattooed itself on the inside of Anna's ears ages ago. Maybe he was sitting in the front seat of his car, trying to work up the courage to knock. Maybe his brows would knit together and his mouth would quirk and he would say, "I missed you, Sunshine," though he had never once called her by that nickname. Maybe she could apologize, and he would kiss the insides of her wrists, the back of her neck, her eyelids.NPR three minute story submission2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Yes, she could hear a car door opening. If she listened hard she thought she could even make out the rustle of his corduroy jacket.
Go outside, said her heart.
Wait, said her brain.
She began to count aloud. "One, two, three, four"
Anna was eight when her baby brother was born. He was little more than a fragile bag of bones and organs, an accident waiting to break her heart. Every night she'd snea
That Girl There once was a girl. A simple girl; a quiet girl. She never spoke to anyone, and no one ever spoke to her.That Girl4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Her exterior was perfect. Her hair was the perfect-perfect shade, and it framed her perfect-perfect face. Her skin was the perfect-perfect fairness. Her lips were the perfect-perfect pinkness-yet they never curved into what could be a perfect-perfect smile.
Her eyes saw everything, and they saw nothing. They saw the nothingness of the world. (The nothingness, as in the unnoticeable-what no one noticed, that is what it was. What everyone ignored was the nothingness. What no one noticed and everyone ignored was what the girl's eyes saw.) The girl's eyes saw the cruelty, the violence, the depravity.
She saw the truth.
One day, this was all too much for the girl. She could not take it. She could not bear seeing such malformation. She c
The Silent CryThe Silent Cry4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The Silent Cry
Sometimes, although no words are uttered,
If you listen, really listen,
You can hear someone's heart crying out for help.
It's hurting, they're hurting, even though they won't say a word.
They won't admit the feelings burning inside like acid reflux,
Or to the emotions drowning them in ammonia.
Only a keen observer can see a crying heart;
Expressions become blanked out once starry
Eyes are dull and bleak.
Emotions disappear they feel
Nothing...a few levels below numb.
And all this can happen subconsciously in defence,
Because they could simply be afraid that you would hurt them.
If you can't ask for help and are silently begging for it,
Try not to push away those who can read between the lies
And see behind your eyes into the parts of you where the hurt sits.
They will prop you up if you let them,
Until you are able to walk with confidence again
buy the emperor's mismatchboxthe summary:buy the emperor's mismatchbox4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how i ruled a third-world country
with third-degree burns. or how i
lost my self-respect, lost my head.
lost my virginity. lost my sanity.
lost my face to a conflagration.
what happens in vegas stays in vegas.
but we're in henderson or something.
what happens in your car stays
between our mouths, our lips,
and everyone else's, i suppose.
the backseat of a mustang.
and the driver's seat. and
the passenger's seat. and
the seat that doesn't exist.
i set rumours like wildfires
in the midst of flammable
forest-egos. i spread truth
like how i spread my legs,
like how an inferno spread
from my head to your bed
i might never lay in again.
we're so anticlimactic.
combustion strikes chords
like matches, in my phallic
guitar (will you ever strum
it again?) incinerating the
emperor's throne of rueful
shame. call me tyrannous,
an incendiary dictator, and
Too Much Love Will Kill YouToo much love will kill youToo Much Love Will Kill You5 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
you know you're in love when insomnia no longer leads to counting sheep, but instead it makes you count the thousand ways her eyes reflect the sunlight. you know you're in love when you stop worrying about catching your bus on time and instead your thoughts are about whether she'll be allright and if she's brushing her teeth with a toothbrush the same colour as yours. you know you're in love when you're unable to pay attention in class because you're too busy reading her old "what's up? <3"-texts, imprinting every letter and sentence in your memory until you rembember your whole inbox forwards and backwards. you don't realize that you're too much in love before you walk across the street singing all i want for christmas is you, too passionate a prisoner of the notorous pink cloud to notice the truck hitting you smack in the heart.. exactly like her kisses did.
SolitudeLeave him to his solitudeSolitude4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where the light bulb lurches
over the bed
making love to the dark
huddled against the ceiling
and the blankets all are beaten
like wayward apologies.
Let the clock by his pillow
break the sad news
and tally the lies
of her comings
and their coupling
under the canopy
of weightless flesh
where love once disturbed their sleep
and her arms still ached enough
to break their fall.
For midnight will catch the floor
like it always does
the upwelling of her words
left bristling in the carpet
and send him spilling
in the dark
like blistered silk
setting sadly into the dawn -
just another memory
found missing in the morning.
The subtle crueltyHow would you feel if someone took away your voice, cut your vocal chords so you can no longer use your tantalizing voice; because SOMEONE thought that it was annoying though you only spoke to communicate your feelings with them, to protect them, or warn them of dangers?The subtle cruelty5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How would you feel if someone trimmed or stapled your ears; cropped them down to the opening and made them to look pinned back and sharp; because SOMEONE thought it would make you look more intimidating and fierce...though they are your ears, they are designed to help YOU hear a specific way and despite similarities with others' ears, yours are unique, and allow you to specifically hear what another might not.
How would you feel if someone cut your fingers off from the first knuckle under your nail bed--just clean off--because SOMEONE thought your nails would grow long and sharp enough to scratch them or their precious material possessions though if they did grow and you had to scratch someone in defense, now
NumbWhat is it that I feel,Numb4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
if anything at all?
within my soul,
and I wonder
how I will ever
I cannot detect
of my canvas,
although it is
in bleak tones.
August 18th, 2010
I am The ArtistI am The Artist.I am The Artist4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I know the wonder of the universe,
and the mysteries it keeps.
I think deep.
And I see clear.
By my hands
i will delete thisi keep dead flowersi will delete this6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
in my window in hopes that
they're just pretending.
you're proof love still existsi believe in imaginary numbers and telephone numbers.you're proof love still exists4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i believe in conjugating french verbs and french kisses.
i believe in every religion and every god ever invented.
i believe in psionics and biology, anatomy & astrology.
300 miles is nothing; $50 is nothing; 6 hours is nothing.
je suis à toi. tu es à moi. i am yours, and you are mine.
i worship the church in your heart, your ribcage chapel.
together we defy scientific laws like gravity & distance.
i believe in the art of love.
i believe in a love for art.
i believe in a life without you,
but if i ever had to live one,
i'd rather believe in death.
i believe in you,
you believe in me
& i have faith in us
Maybe I'm A SirenTomorrow I'll renounce myMaybe I'm A Siren3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Citizenship, go out to sea,
And belong nowhere, never
Set foot on land. I'll shed
Every bit of skin that has touched
The world, I'll be coated in salt and
Crack when I move or breathe or blink, when
I scream the waves will scream and
No one will hear either of us. I'll
Learn how to forget navigation by stars,
Forget navigation, forget stars.
I'll own nothing,
The rains will wash the deck clean.
I'll wake up in the morning
Drenched and the world will be pristine
With no reminders like sweeping
And coming up with all the dirt your life
Has amassed. There will be no dust.
Two weeks in I'll give up being a
Vegetarian and eat gulls and
Fish and the ocean's pain. A
Year and a half later I'll sharpen
My teeth and eat the waves cresting
On the sides of my boat. I'll
Eat songs and shipwrecks and whales
And pollution and messages in bottles.
I'll eat all the hunger there is
Seventeen (In Phases)1.Seventeen (In Phases)2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
It was because her parents had named her for the grandmother who had broken her mother’s heart. The grandmother whose heart was supposed to have melted from her birth and hadn’t.
That was why her mother barely looked at her. That was why she called her ‘girl’.
That was why she liked to pretend she was the quiet woman in the background of an old black and white movie. Because everything here was like an old black and white movie.
[And if she really looked back, her mother had never appreciated the elegance of the 1950s enough.]
It was because she hated surprises. The surprise she got on her sixth birthday when her father left taught her just how a single person had the ability of taking your soul, splitting it in two and wearing it on their breast pocket like a white carnation waiting to die.
That was why when she lifted a book, she looked at the last page first.
That was why her namelessness had become a comfort to her.
That was why sh