Dead TearsDead Tears10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am alone.
I am a squished banana
Under the foot of a clown
Peel back my yellow layers
Reveal the soft white child inside
I am slightly mushy
Perhaps you should have eaten me sooner.
Today they forgot to give me crackers with my soup.
I think they did it on purpose.
Why should I have crackers
If nobody loves me?
I sit alone outside the library.
There is no place to sit inside.
It's always like this.
Oh! What a cruel existance is this?
Satan does not acknowlege my letters!
Perhaps I gave the wrong postal code.
Santa does not exist.
The blood trickles down my chin
And onto my inadequately-developed chest.
The clown laughs no more.
EdieEdie5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Her skin of powdered rice paper
the scent of rotting orchids,
a drug-induced Noh dancer with
slow-writhing limbs akimbo-
silver-gilded girl of the moment
at the factory that turned out
Monroe silk screens, and porn
to the drone of a refrigerator,
from asylum to the Big Apple,
the apple of her father's eye
and of his desires, she'd sleep
among the gay lovers, pretty boys
with erotic names of exotic birds,
knowing she was safe for a while
as they quarreled amongst themselves-
who'd bring her chocolate shakes,
and chauffeur their princess
to her doctor's for injections
(she was too much a lady to do it herself)
until her fingertips became match-heads
setting fire to hotel rooms,
flailing from inside a closet
while bellboys stole her furs-
face of a comatose junkie drawing deep
on filter-less cigarettes
(she wasn't afraid). And yet, what deeds
have you, Edith, what deeds?
But wasn't she fabulous! remembering
back when she and Suky spent trips
screaming from an open convertible
anaplasiaanaplasia4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
conspiring their exodus
clamoring for the cool negligence
lost tongues in long weeping throats
glut of heartmatter
alabaster, pollen, necrotic silk
i'll empty their blasphemies
from broken tusks
spilling the elocution of bliss
so it does not reach the dead.
ShroudShe weaves a dress upon the loom,Shroud3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
her neighbors knowing it's a shroud,
window dressing for a tomb -
she weaves a dress upon the loom.
Forbidden fruit has scarred the womb,
a stranger's face amidst the crowd,
she weaves a dress upon the loom -
her neighbors knowing it's a shroud.
SnapWhen the lights snap outSnap6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
do you think of my breath,
a hot map
between your shoulders,
and asking questions
like we did in school?
How many times has my image
slipped between your sheets
and kept you at the window,
counting stars and cars,
the highway owning us both.
I would kiss your pulse -
drink you down
in those thick gulps
that made you spin
and grasp my fingers
to keep us both
OrchestraFour a.m is uneasy -Orchestra5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
time purloined and left
hanging on the bed posts.
You said I crowd your sleep,
feet and hands slipping cotton,
pulling dreams in paper streams
like the nest of wasps
growing restless in the tree.
Your legs make room for me,
for the sound of weather
happening on the roof,
and warm the space above us,
setting fire to the drapes again.
Just let me feel your clavicle
press under my hips
where daylight squeezes in
and hinges us.
So we both can waken slowly,
you know, like kids in summer
who long for everything to never end
and the sky to be an orchestra
CaulDid you always smile like thatCaul2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I wondered -
something cleft in autumn
like a cider press
or a photograph taken by a stranger
left hanging on the wall?
Did you feel its simplicity surround you -
something caught in moon stones
by the dawning glow
or a picture
painted by your lover
lingering in the hall?
And will you wear it
like a tapestry
something myriad in brightly colored hues
or a shadow
hidden from the others
drifting like a caul?
general romancemy spine is what's softgeneral romance4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and hands are the cold
being under my skin
lips are the
the vacant ears,
and even though
rain does not come
every season, fingers
are the pattering
to my skin
where dream is truthOne day she fell asleepwhere dream is truth4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
only to wake
as audience and protagonist
As Spring burned to colours
with bejeweled desperation
and the chafe marks from her
A cheerful painting that is
being eaten away
The heavy aroma in the air
sweetly strangles her breath
and the seductive sensation of
the flowers devouring the mind
Greedy little mouths
latched of he scar-decorated
stains the electric blue sky
Sanity flows away
When I woke up I saw my dream
wasn't far off from
DrownBlackness at three AMDrown3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Books of hymns
Ribbons, wreathes, smoke
Phone calls from the dead
These things I know
Our WorldTonight we shall awakeOur World2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
And we'll feel better;
While scars dictate out a eulogy
Before icicle stars drip a lake
Of blood and ink.
And our life is scribed
And our destiny transcribed
Upon ozone highways of
A time swept letter.
Tonight we shall smile
And we'll be fine;
While bones taunt us in penury
Out of sync to heart's design:
Never will we blink.
And our strife is mystified
And our history pacified
Towards x-ray epitaphs on
A lunar forged shrine.
Tonight we shall glow
And we'll fly high;
As souls sing forth in melody
To harp string's of an angel's sigh,
But joy fades in a wink.
And we're alive
There's nothing we can't survive
And we're a mystery
To bandaged eyes living misery.
So let's set things right!
Let's burn out tonight!
Set the world alight
With the unity of our cries,
Never to let the flames burn low
Nor to allow our nightmares
Permission to fester and grow.
So let's set things right!
Tonight we shall awake
And even if it kills us;
The world. Our world.
Will be alright.
IN MY NIGHTSHADE GARDEN...The Night stirred me awake as I arose clad in a schemeIN MY NIGHTSHADE GARDEN...4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
of witch's rhyme, my eyes shone with a light so eerie
that it must have been the gallows' spawn, and my soul
splintered into a thousand fathoms of Darkness...
I smoked it until I could pluck prophesies from the air,
steeping spectres from smouldering ash and bone,
I twisted Life into Death, and Death became the entrails
of my garden, sewn with rotted seeds and flourishing
slimy leaves, infested with snakes and spiders, toads
and lizards that creep over withered beds of poison ivy,
oh how they welcome visitors into my Nightshade Garden,
refusing to animate life while promising to end it
with a bite of forbidden delights! Welcome visitor,
to my Nightshade Garden, you may not live to tell this tale...
In my Nightshade Garden I planted Henbane and Mandrake,
cloven-hoofed and glittering darker than any nightmare theme,
in my kettle I brewed them until they embalmed my dreams
with viper's spit and spider's sting, a twist of thorn and
Intersex.glass eyesIntersex.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she feels good
i think, i think
it could be gone
in a blink
he wants me
back row seats
it could be mine
in the dark with no scenery
'you' is such a strong word
'me' is all i'm here for
really, really, you knew that
a dog drools for a treat
and i just want a small
for the stars to drift away,
but its so much clearer
with a girl there to talk
and a boy on my ----
How I hate her......How I hate her......10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How I hate her
more than dried up lipstick, spam trying to sell.
than the bitter taste of milk gone to hell
you want me to feel well
And then you tell tell
"don't worry about her trace on my cock
and her blood on my heart
we are no more, and broken appart"
How I hate her
more than dolls prettier than mine.
than papercuts, maggots and people feelin "fine"
you tell me it's over
done and bye
but I still see her in your eye eye
it's such a lie lie
How I Hate Her
More than sickness in a wound, kids gone mad.
than the worst past memory I've ever had
you tell me she is dead
eaten and decomposed, less than dust
so..no more flirt flirt
only playing with dirty dirt
underneath her skirt
How I hate myself
More than all the girls you ever slept with.
than roadkills, wasps on icecream and pants I can't fit
you tell me you love me...alot..
almost as much as you loved her
everything I say
to feel this way
ephemeralthere's something about theephemeral3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the way we keep
to a sleepless night
with the tap of a train
under our feet.
the way we end
with the close of day,
the oranges and reds lingering
while the sleep
tickles our eyelids.
the way we hold each other
in our hands, knuckles tingling
and skin pounding
with each new touch and breath.
the kind of thing that lives
with everything in the way we speak, the careful whispers
in the crooks of our shoulders,
quick in patters of rain, but crawling in droplets,
a haunting reminder of what we are-
019. TearsI microwave a mug of tears, mostly019. Tears3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
my own, for a minute
or so, till they're hot.
Because I am hungry, I toast
a bagel to go with them.
I clean out the crumb tray. I am in no hurry
to write this poem.
I use Mary's homemade jam,
and lagniappe some fresh strawberries.
You would imagine the tears
would taste bitter, as they often do
in poems and songs, but they are
just plain, salty tears.
I curl on the love-seat, faded and ripped,
my winter writing place, set my mug
on the window sill. The cat jumps onto my lap.
Nudging him with my elbow, I begin
to form all the wrong words. Mistake
after stupid mistake leaves my fingers
like dialing your number
after I've just hung up the phone
when I know how you feel
about weakness and cowardice,
or taking your hand
in the waiting room,
when you how don't like public displays,
and I'm sure when you read this
you'll say, "I don't know
what you mean" and look at me
blankly, like I wish my screen still did.
I breathe, and take a sip of h
Egoista Pero... ¿Por qué no te gusto? ¿Qué tengo yo de malo?Egoista4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Mira.... ¿Ves esto? ¿Lo ves?
Sus inmensos ojos verdes ascienden desde el suelo hasta el punto al que él señala; no dice nada, se limita a llorar en silencio. Una lágrima tras otra. El nudo crece justo sobre su lengua. Abriría los labios para añadirle un zumbido a las lágrimas pero su orgullo no se lo permite.
Está vacío , él y su crudeza, él y su maldita tranquilidad . No no no sé cuándo empecé a quererte, tampoco sé cuando dejé de hacerlo , engulle saliva, buscando un poco de tiempo para poder ordenar un par de palabras que tengan algún tipo de sentido . Me lo has matado... Todo este tiempo... No se puede hablar contigo... es intentarlo... y... Una tras otra, sus vacilaciones otorgan incoherencia a todo cuanto dice.
¿Qué tengo yo de malo?
cancer handshoney, you should have knowncancer hands4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i'm one of those tasteful girls
with all those tongues hidden
in her bones
and not one of those watered down ones
wasting their time with fake, ersatz tastes,
but the pilled, the ones that can be
and can't kill
with cancer hands
ridiculous self-absorptionmy ribs click likeridiculous self-absorption4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
some beautiful incident
its powder-thin chimes:
quiet and unforgiven as sin,
I am trembling in the wake
of some nervous
this seething mass fit to swallow me whole:
like clockwork, my lungs expand
Room 313His head felt likeRoom 3133 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the floor of a Greyhound bus
and he couldn't remember
the name of the breasts
poking into his back -
two idle threats
poised to wreak havoc
on his morning.
He could feel
her broad hips
and wondered if her name
and if the smell of her perfume
was too early for him
and why the carpet
made so much noise.
Relationships are not part-time jobsRelationships are not part-time jobsRelationships are not part-time jobs3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
in run down cafes
where you wear bad attitudes,
and knocks to your ego.
Relationships are careers
earned and worked for
that grow and support you,
and a reminder that you're worth something.
Your love gives back what you invest
and I am not a part-time lover
and refuse to accept a business partner
aspiring for anything less
Love is beautiful and not a dead-end job.