Draw me as I amDraw me as I am9 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
When I was younger I thought death was an end, but now I think it is a process. I see this in the conversion of mourner's black to a trite fashion statement, in wisdom replaced by progress. It is a searching in the sand for words that might save you, while stones fall and understanding departs. It is knowing that most of my grandchildren's generation will not recognise the reference to which I allude, let alone its significance.
The gas heater flickers; orange light beneath plastic coals provides a comforting illusion. No more cinders, no more black dust coating every surface. I suppose I should be grateful.
On the television a man grins inanely. His wife competently organises around his bumbling ineptness. His children sigh and look embarrassed, or resigned.
"That's what it's like now, see?" I say to the ghost in the chair by the fireplace.
"What's that, Dad?" my daughter Alison asks from the kitchen, where no doubt she is planning my week very efficiently. The effective career mum, a
MatthewThe silhouette in the back seat seems to say,Matthew4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
what's a few more miles per hour?
Jesus, there ain't any cops around at two AM.
The needle on that glowing green dial shivers, taunting.
After forty days of temptation in the desert,
I turned his breath bitter and blue from nicotine.
The illuminated cone of open road chokes the windshield
And he cranks the gas, feeling his back press against the seat.
A rush of lines and blue-grey pavement.
His fists were scarred, probably thought even Behemoth
was wary of his mirrored sunglasses.
And he thinks: bitch, you're gone,
You're all gone.
Bet you didn't say your prayers right.
He grips the cracked leather steering wheel
Cranks up the radio,
His feet brush crumpled cans
Of beer and Diet Coke
And he feels them holy.
I made him proud of that stain on the wall;
Made his fists bruised from scrubbing and scrubbing.
He stops when it gets light,
Wheels kicking up dust under the dead tree,
Bone-white, like fingers in the sun.
The dust scratches his lungs t
Field Notes.Field Notes8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I snap: a sling-shot
of sinew, tendons whipped
to joints that buckle in lines as cleanly creased
as an origami crane. Poised on a tripod of paper tips,
I anticipate the wind but there is only steel
shearing bone and then it all unfolds
with a scritch-scratch and tickle
of segmented limbs sprouting,
barbed as berry-canes.
once fed on your skin;
sipped at honeyed pores
with a thousand tiny, hollow tongues
and those words you said, the ones that closed
like fists to cinch me mute but for this
thin-bodied whine: please
don't ever speak
They're predicting swarms
this summer: better batten down the hatches,
"ocean hunger""ocean hunger"10 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The inky mass opened its many mouths; they gaped and retreated. The water always looked like a trained dolphin pulling itself through its daily routine, wanting only to be fed.
Camille wanted to sacrifice herself every day, that desire never left her. Beside that wide oceanic arm, she was less than a microbe, a speck. The water owned her. She was its possession. She owed it to the river, to feed it. And often the fall looked more inviting than a chocolate cake or a feather bed.
But she wouldn't jump, because then what would Harold do? He was not self-sufficient. His existence depended on her.
The river just kept shimmying along, through the track it had worn deep. No seagulls circled the water here. It was a no man's land of beaches that stunk like an collection of fish markets. Down below were stretches of salt and pepper sand with rubbish buried beneath like ostrich eggs. Some houses and buildings that replaced trees were fastened on the vast hills on either side of the river, attach
Weak strainsI fall victim to those thingsWeak strains2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That don't quite make sense:
The sky is assigned blue
And your irises the colour of tea,
Wholesome and warm,
With a glint of danger
That correspondes with your
They manage to
Slice me open
Stuffing some metaphysical aspect of me
With the weight of
Of wild flowers.
FighterThere is a tear in the corner of my eye that bears your name,Fighter2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The sound of your voice, the roughness of your grip.
The bruises on my wrists remind me of your chains,
The kindle in your stare, the elicit grin living on your lips,
The sudden rapture of my reliance on you.
My eyes are the ocean and my stomach is a void,
My mind is the storm raging, and my fists the iron burning.
I am the lie you want to cover, the memory you want to erase,
I am the enchanting glance you feared to adore,
The maddening thirst you didn't forbid to clench.
And I still walk tall, and proud, and brave.
For I am the Seeker of dreams, the soldier of sweet desires.
And for those who kept on denying me the sword,
Hear me roar and defy your mockery
For I am the Fighter you created between your perverted palms.
Clandestine mind cryptDreams come back in fractions,Clandestine mind crypt3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They flitter on the backs
Of messenger doves,
Like pieces of sun
Hitting portions of wave.
A parallel sting
That travels close to the thanatology,
That runs through my breast,
Come dream or life -
It sends psychic impulses
Like kisses on an envelope
Sent off to a dead lover,
Like electrical devices
Plunged into a full
What mad fish
Dare to swim there
Alongside the impression
Of long expired stars
That blink on
The flat cauldronesque
My twin's face
In the temporary grave of ocean,
Like a disintegrating mermaid,
A terrible narcissist
As baby flowers
That never really
Reaching but never
Grasping the surface.
Is the tub
Really just a
7 Deadly Sins: WrathHe clenched his fists7 Deadly Sins: Wrath2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And took deep breaths to calm himself.
Today was not this man's day.
Everything that could have gone wrong, did.
An idiot cut him off,
His boss fired him.
He got kicked out of his apartment,
And to top it all off, his girlfriend dumped him.
The man could feel his chest boil
All these other people
Were idiots to him.
He wanted to rid the world of them,
And leave only himself.
He tried to relax,
Only to feel more anger rise up.
He was mad at the world,
The idiotic world.
He had filled himself
Shades of SleepShades of Sleep10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Another blue ceiling, shadow-choked and unfamiliar,
stares back in sympathy - withered paint crackling
with unshed dust and old-man's tales of long ago,
a silent confidante with blown-bulb twilit wisdom -
It's comfort as cold as this half-empty bed.
Cataleptic - a midnight-waker with four hours lost
and the ceiling is shadow-smothered, blue gone grey
like old-man's ashes spread out over this dark grave
of a room - dust unto dust in the throat, and coughing
with all the enthusiasm of russian roulette.
Pull the trigger on the TV remote to no effect -
3am and the damn thing's still dead, the traitor
with screen black like a post-midnight moodswing,
mourning the absence of love, laughter, light-bulbs
and illumination lost to night's darkened thoughts.
No time for sleep, but dreaming away of such escape -
a 5am fugue with pre-dawn gloom glaring intensely.
Black goes to grey and then back to the familiar view
of weeping cracks in the sarcophagus ceiling above -
tortured eyes read their decay
It's Clear From My EyesIt's all so easy on your own isn't it?It's Clear From My Eyes2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Just to be lost and wandering,
For a reason to breathe,
Or a place to be,
You don't know that you'll never find it,
It'll never be in front of your eyes,
He'll never be there,
That's why you don't care,
It's so easy to be lost in your self,
In your pain,
You've given up hope of finding a way out,
Still can't find that reason to breathe can you?
Because it's not that easy on your own.
ParagonBeneath ether-lofts;Paragon4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Like a galaxy
Could you imagine
Womb to womb,
All spiral staircases
That dissolve into
In the bricabrac
Hung up on
In the middle of
Infectiousflecks of moonlight-blueInfectious4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
are distant corpse-brides: unfold
The goodnight gardenI'm surroundedThe goodnight garden2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Had I forgotten it was spring?
Have I encountered my own glistening
Sweeping hypnopompic mirrors,
I'm confused as confetti.
I echo through kaleidoscopes,
Enter diptychs, triptychs, photo frames,
I cannot escape.
I curl a fist that rape-kisses the glass,
It doesn't make a sound,
No-one breaks the emergency glass for me,
No-one hears a falling tree from their city apartments.
God tells me I'm close,
I taste him on my bitten tongue,
The surgeon tells me they cannot operate,
"Just fall like the petals do,
Just fall" they tell me.
RoteSome kind ofRote4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Has powdered the room
In an old-time,
The sun filters through
A blushing keyhole
I shift through
Where the light
Does not reach.
I watch a Golden
Shrine play out
It's sepia theatre,
Behind a closed door
With a jewelled heart
For a handle.
You wont' find
But I can tell you:
It yawns a mandarin-black,
Closing in on a dusty alter,
Littered with dried up
TitrationsIf you want to connectTitrations3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The dots, you'll find
Just about any denominator
To hook around a bouquet of
Your own personal
That peak acute angles at you
As if from the leafy boughs
Of a lonely,
While you search
For universes in the
Blades of grass.
But she won't be there
Like the cloudless desert sky,
Thin as a whistle,
Screaming out in pain,
But you continue to love the never
The catecholamine chase
Is over now,
Mechanisms and Latin
And if I
Put the cherub
I'll have no wings
But reality's objective face.
This must be the last
Asteroid belt of poetry
From my blood,
But you are keen to tell me
It was never
Just a brooding slut
To the full moon.
Dreamless SleepI've foundDreamless Sleep5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
beneath your tomb:
where I bury
my manuals, my medications
back to this
out like rain.
The deleterious effects
has turned me into
a succinct squiggle
on the face of a page,
in your book of
Hotel DieuShe's faintHotel Dieu3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
as a ghost,
makes the colour
of my window pot-plants
with her colour
She's angelic mysteriousness
on timely processes,
I will not run
Love Conquers All.Love Conquers All.3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Applejack bucked her back legs against the tree trunk. She backed up a little, allowing the apples to fall neatly into her saddle baskets. The orange pony trotted away from the tree, heading instead, towards a small cart. She got herself into position, just in front of the cart. She then reared up, so she was now standing on her back legs. The apples fell in an orderly fashion, without any of them going astray. Applejack gave the orchard a quick scan, once the apples were piled into the cart. Upon seeing that there was bit a single apple left, she let out a little 'yeehaw' to show she was done. Her celebratory hollering caught the attention of Big Macintosh. Who had been taking a sly nap in the barn, when he should have been apple bucking like his sister. He rose from his slumber and exited the barn.
"What's all the commotion about?!"
"Ah did it! Ah finished mah half of the apple buckin'!"
Big Macintosh was visibly surprised.
"What!? We've only been at this for an hour!"
Ribcage, butterflyYou unlockRibcage, butterfly6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my inner pumps and clocks.
of my ribcage, butterfly:
of a candy carousel,
all tines and teeth.
Can you feel
BalloonsFinalBalloons3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dropped out of
A remote sky,
With a shadow-
What is this
I'll be on
Need to come and
Applejoy - ProloguePrologueApplejoy - Prologue3 years ago in Drama More Like This
Sweet Apple Acres, along with the rest of the countryside surrounding Ponyville, was bathed in the brilliant glow of Celestia's sun. A light breeze stirred through the treetops of the orchard, bending some branches and blowing loose leaves from them. Each leaf that left a tree fluttered through the blue sky, coming to rest on the ground when the energy imparted upon it by gravity ran out, allowing it to settle peacefully on the grass-covered ground. Each new gust of the breeze brought down more leaves in this way, just as each new gust brought with it another fresh chill in the air. The chill heralded an unwelcome arrival, each breath of cold air was another reminder that the nights were growing colder and longer. Winter was coming, and it was coming entirely too fast.
The idyllic scene was only disrupted by a single sound. As the breeze blew and the trees swayed, a repetitive ringing noise sounded across the landscape. The noise rang out, scattering the peace that had previou