you would call out to the starsyou fell headfirst into beauty you never should have touchedyou would call out to the stars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you stumbled onto a land that has long since been turned to dust
(even though the ways the sunlight shines here is something you swear never to forget)
sometimes you think that you should have never left your home
other times you breathe in the clean air and wonder how you could relish such a standstill life
you hold the world in your palms
a paradox of enormous proportions that you never seem to notice
(or care really, you always were a wild one)
time has gone the long way around you
and you been left stranded in a place in which it has no meaning
you still wish on shooting stars
because that's a habit too deeply ingrained to ignore
(or maybe you just hope too much)
lullabies will ring in your ears sometimes
their haunting tunes lingering long after you've opened your eyes
you aim your feet to walk along an edge
thinner than a shadow
(you often wonder if you'll make it)
The Beautiful MistakeHeres to the broken hearts and shattered dreamsThe Beautiful Mistake6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
The bitter thoughts and the forbidden scenes
Heres when desperation shows its truth
The pain of saying farewell to my youth
Heres to letting go, and breaking free
The tragic pain thats meant to be
Heres to my final day and becoming awake
Heres to me, the beautiful mistake
countdown to zeroexcitement:countdown to zero5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
one sheet of cheap paper
detailing every growth,
chalked down to weeks
and several tiny images.
ear structure forming.
scrawled across the page.
events that should be itemized,
stuck in the family museum,
clipped down to snapshot memories.
twelve thousand thoughts
of names and pain,
of teaching morals and values,
of how to say "no"
even though sometimes,
i couldn't myself.
and the constant knowledge
that the timing might not have been right.
the sudden gush of crimson,
one frantic drive to the er...
you weren't ready to love us.
who you'd have looked like,
3 Month PuppetOctober:3 Month Puppet5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I order another coffee; she's always late.
I see her coming. The emotions radiating off her body could power a small country but she would come with the package and the small country would return her with a complaint letter.
She starts talking before she's even in the seat. "We are going on our first date!"
I start up my brain, which maybe-someday-husband is this? Number 12? Number 22, if I consider the guys that shared sweat with her for a night and left the memory of her name along with the memory of her in a cheap motel bed.
I feign excitement. Raise eyebrows? Check. Arrange the lips just right? Check. "Oh my god, where is he taking you!?" I already know it's going to be similar to the answers before.
"A football game, it will be sooo fun," she says.
I digest this, yes it's the same as the others: hiking, action movies, gaming arcade.
"You hate sports," I say.
She tilts her head in thought, here it comes. "I know, but he wanted to go."
HomecomingI am welcomed home this afternoonHomecoming5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
By children on their bicycles
Treading golden dusk-lit roads
Not knowing they are the future
I am welcomed back this evening
By the warm shoulders of my grandparents
And the particular smell of their house
Of three white cats and peppermint
I am welcomed home tonight
By talks of politics and racism
And late night repeats
Evoked by an old and dusty television
But what welcomes me back the most
Is the promises I made so many years ago
In the selfish way of all young men
That I should never, ever return
Go OnCrouching in a corner,Go On9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am a shadow in the darkness,
With tear stained eyes,
And a mind full of distorted visions...
Intricate crop circles corroding sanity,
Forever lost am I in patterns and puzzles
Divinely woven and held tight with silk
Lined webs of lies...
Alone, unloved, and afraid,
There's no where to run.
No place to hide,
No way to escape.
The voices get louder.
The final hour is here.
They've come for my soul...
But is it wise?
To take a life?
To surrender a darkened soul?
To face oblivion? To walk through
Is it fair to cry out only to hear no reply?
Is it too much for one second
To be used to care?
How the world is dismal and cruel...
The parallel universe extends
Its arms to me.
The beauty and mystery of the void...
Razor blade ecstasy, etching skin,
Creating flaws, creating imperfections,
They are disfiguring
Lines of death.
Crimson metallic bliss screams
A hissful roar and salty tears
Begin to burn.
The world is spinning and
Begins to dim.
Is it to
The Blackest RoseThe sky is restless tonight.The Blackest Rose6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The wind blows softly, tangling my hair as it lingers about,
And I think of you, just like always.
The moon is radiant, infiltrating the darkness,
With its light, as the comforting shadows
Mourn with me over the love I had lost.
These tears of misery that fell heavily
From these empty eyes clouded the dreams
Of happiness I had once yearned for.
Tonight I cling to the memories,
To the things that weren't to be,
And yet again, my heart breaks.
I can embrace myself,
Hold my own hand, and love myself,
But I cannot look into my own eyes,
And feel my own soul lift me up.
I know I cannot relive this tragedy once more.
A raven came to me on this night, his cries echoing my own
As I reached towards the sky, hoping I could touch you,
And bring you back home.
The blackest rose this raven gave to me,
The petals soft and fragrant, reminding me
That true love never really dies.
For a moment it was as if you were with me
Once again, way back then,
When nothing else matter
Painting of lifeMy painting weeps colorsPainting of life6 years ago in Surrealism More Like This
sorrow and happiness
dark and light
off the canvas
onto my fingers
Red and orange
like the sunset color
of a warm beating heart
Delicate fingers painted
on the canvas wall
every detail matched
with every branch and line
Blue and black
sorrow and distress
Colors of the rainbow
of the world
of the cosmos
rubies and emeralds
fall out of my eyes
from the old and new colors
Your eyes seep of wonder
I grasp your hands
the symbiotic painting of life
an infant's darkroom.I sit in the corner,an infant's darkroom.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am not the action, the story, or the plot.
I am the bystander,
By all the commotion, emotion, the ocean
I am small and unquestioned,
But I hold all the answers.
Captured in my camera lens is the story you've woven.
Only, it's told in my view.
You saw racket, clutter, mess.
I didn't miss that.
I am not blind.
But, I saw what you didn't.
I saw shadows undulate in steady movement.
[Maybe it was my own--
...me in the corner.]
Or, maybe I saw the beauty in the shadows that you were building.
I am a visionary.
I am a thinker. An artist. A creator.
My eyes see more that sight permits.
Images illuminate and take to new form.
Though I am small, and admittedly weak,
this fragile being holds a power unknown to you.
Unknown to most anyone.
But, you wouldn't miss it if you looked.
That's the key.
You have to look to see,
and instead you choose blindness.
I appear fearful;
Maybe I hold fright.
The Poet and The ConjurerI wakeThe Poet and The Conjurer5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
And there you are
And there you waltz
Any time I try to stray
You lead me down another way
That draws me back to you
Weaving words through the air
That embrace me, and I care
You said 'I move the stars for no-one'
For you are like a dream I never wake from
If I had the power to wish you away
For I would miss you if you were gone
If you left before the dawn
You're addicted to the state I'm in
Im howling at my corrosion
You're Zooming In
Ghost WritingThe words grew hollowGhost Writing5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Meaningless somehow- thinner.
I forgot why I loved
The dusted air of summer.
I forgot why I took
My pen to paper.
I forgot why I chose,
A book of vapour or a written rose.
As all the petals of
Prose fell away.
At the end of the day
I was left with letters.
Ribbons and Dreamsa.Ribbons and Dreams6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
you tie the stars in ribbon trails
and examine the options,
each dot a resting place.
a haven i can't reach.
as i read the imprints on your lips
(the moondust sparkles most
when you tilt your head to the right
and twinkle your eyes):
do you really miss me,
or was i just another name of impossibles
you strove to drive away?
our auras glow through pink-tinged clouds
and i wonder idly:
do you really love me,
or am i just a dream you think will paint you perfect?
you loop daisies 'round your pinky
and swear you'll never forget,
muted fantasies stealing your smile
in a world i've never visited.
as i read the gloss across your palms
(pollen always has a knack
for staining life-lines and fortunes
and turning your alibis beautiful):
did you really mean forever,
or just until something better came along?
you blow petals against my eyes
and i question silently:
do you really want who i am,
or are my blooms much too harsh for your caress?
you sketch sh