Mona Lisa smilingLet’s talk about wanting to fall apart;Mona Lisa smiling3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Let’s talk about over-riding the one instinct
we all have in common,
Let’s talk about not wanting to get out of bed
for a day,
Let’s talk about timing the whole day to have
the least amount of social contact.
Let’s talk about faking smiles more than not,
about inwardly grimacing every time someone asks
“you seem quiet today, what’s wrong?”
because how can you explain that for some reason
this whole spinning aimlessly around the sun thing has
gotten tedious and the only spinning you seem to
be doing is out of control.
(but there is a reason, one that stretches beyond
the oh-your-parents-divorced-what-a-shame and the
oh-your-dad-wasn’t-exactly-what-we-expected and the
because I can’t see an end to the worst things and my bad luck
is coming in ninety-nines.
Let’s talk abo
Guilt that eatsMaybe I should have questionedGuilt that eats4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
why your teeth always chattered
like fingers clicking on a typewriter,
and why your fingernails
looked as though faint, blue ink
had bled through
but who questions anything
at the age of sixteen
and maybe I should have noticed
the lunches you spent
or listening to music,
as you gave away your lunch,
because you said
you were not hungry-
and I silently thought
more for me
and maybe I should have wondered
why you walked through the hallways
with pockets of graphite
under your eyes,
as your knees knocked together
like keys on a lanyard:
and maybe then
I wouldn't sit here with guilt
that eats at me-
like you never did.
Margieoh Margie, Margie, Margie.Margie1 year ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
your name sounds like snow.
you remind me of oranges.
you're a Polack
and i call you so.
why don't you call, Margie?
where have you gone?
i tried to keep in touch
but in the end i know
you're still home.
all the kids who were our friends,
they are just your friends.
we were all in the marching band
but fuck that, Margie, you know
yes you know how i feel about that.
i miss you,
and i barely even know you!
i wanted to see you
in the summer
in your attic
where we'd wear sweaty clothes
and move boxes by droves
and find books,
that all stank of cloves,
and we'd joke,
and imitate the sweet little voice
of the lady who once lived in your house.
she left her books in your attic
and i wonder if you've gone through them,
or maybe your father burned them.
and you said
you'd be getting a job?
that was the last i'd heard from you.
if you wanted to,
i'd open a parlor for you!
a dance hall with burgers
.i heard that even.1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the dead have nightmares; sometimes
they roll in their graves
Esprits sylvestresNi d'elles, ni d'eux.Esprits sylvestres2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
« Les nymphes ? Elles sont hideuses. »
Conscient de l’étonnement curieux pesant sur ses épaules, il soupire, et sa voix basse s’élève.
« Avez-vous déjà entendu parler de ces esprits marins aux yeux de femme ? Les enchanteresses qui charment les hommes de leurs harmonies, attirent les navires sur les rochers qui affleurent et couvrent les brisants de leurs restes. Les connaissez-vous, mon amie ?
- Je les connais, mon ami, comme chacun.
- Elles se ressemblent tant. Les nymphes habitent les Forêts ; pas les simples forêts, non, les Forêts les plus denses, les plus obscures, où le soleil ne pénètre qu’au plus haut du solstice. Elles attirent les hommes auprès d’elles, et même le plus aguerri des mortels ne saurait résister à l’appel de la terre. Elles les attirent et les tuent, comme leurs sœurs marines, mais si celles-ci s’en repaissent, celles-là en tirent leur descendance. Leurs filles naissent et vivent auprès des a
.he points.9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
to a crucifix
on the left side
of his neck
tells me he can end all
of your suffering -
and i look at him
and i cross my arms, thinking
he can't even do this
Water MusicWater Music4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It begins without a word - water music.
There will be singing, there will be a song.
But it begins with breath held in - water music.
It begins with stillness and with form.
A partial face, a single hand - water music.
One wish - to hide; another - to be known.
The red of lips, the green of leaf - water music.
To hide this way is not to be alone.
The image of a moment - water music.
Then it passes and a breath is drawn.
An artist makes an image - water music.
And a poet sees and makes a song.
pigeon wingsplease, here:pigeon wings10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I put this together
with pigeon wings
and it is dirty,
and it will cut your hands
botched blood pact.
all this love and death,
with red and black.
I promise you something
of faded browns and greys,
the way love should be.
the cardboard covered
on the other side
of town, broken
dripping in autumn
the way death will be.
Poem #42I often wonder how it would feelPoem #423 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To fall down like raindrops
and soak into the earth
that you have known
so little of
for so long.
And when the sun shines,
and start all over again.
early achesI want to type until I'm empty,early aches4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
ink my vision with each verse;
I want to tamper with my textures,
blot the rain out, drown, immerse.
I want to breathe myself to floating,
cling to clouds with subtle sighs;
I want my bones to bleach me pure,
a clear, clean conquest as my prize.
I want my journey a soft sacrifice
for those who cannot speak;
I want each climb to take me higher,
my strides on stable path to peak.
I want to smile at dead-beat dogs
whose owners lost their minds;
I want to sing all Earth to stupor,
paint perfect patterns in its eyes.
And when I'm snow-swept backdrops
deep-set in dazzled skies,
I want the world to rise and spin the blood
that binds me to these lines.
For YouIt's looping in circles, like needlesFor You4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
thread twisting back,
they are my letters on this page
your eyes scanning down for something more
But at this point I have nothing
but these simple, looping,
For all you know.
For all you care.
Teaching you something, maybe
for with every word is a lesson to be seen
in it's own right
but the beholder has to give to receive;
because as a tv show taught me,
this is the equivalent exchange.
you'll find me here
because my words are my first
testament to this love I have
dear friend,dear friend,dear friend,6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i'm sitting in math class again with the teacher who tried to kill herself last year. i can't concentrate because all i can hear are hearts beating and it irritates me because i know that none of them are mine. my stomach's shaking on the inside from the pills i took this morning. it kind of feels like i'm floating on a cloud that's being anchored to the ground. it's hard to get up and move around because my head starts spinning all over again. it must be the alcohol. it's hard to describe what it's like living without feeling anything but feeling everything at the same time. i wish i could tell you, but the sirens are making it awfully hard to hear myself think.
i've been sitting here for quite a while now with my hands underneath my legs. i picked myself apart again and the doctors said they're getting sick of putting me back together. now all i can do is stare at the walls that only talk about suicide and bruised skin. i guess that makes me a wall. a
Hallow's Heartwas murky and shallow on the Eve of the hallowHallow's Heart2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
a night of unrest a night for un-blessed
because within willow trees soaked bloody heart
were divided branches souls torn apart
branches would sway from ghostly memory
foreshadowing what now have become shades
with the turn of the centuries
worms were left without their feast
resting lonely beneath her feet
her body was left but only to bleed
Her name was Hallow
from the rest of the world she was torn apart