'ocean hunger''ocean hunger'11 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
Draw me as I amDraw me as I am10 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,Matthew5 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
FighterThere is a tear in the corner of my eye that bears your name,Fighter3 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.
Shades of SleepShades of Sleep11 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
Clandestine mind cryptDreams come back in fractions,Clandestine mind crypt4 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
Sgt. DivineSgt. Divine11 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
A few of the men say this used to be a church, but it's hard to tell anything in this storm. We are pinned under a black and violent sky that has held us inside this crumbling room since we arrived yesterday morning. The water slides along the cracked ceiling and bombards us from different spots.
Captain tells us to keep our weapons dry, but he knows it's impossible. The floor clutches our boots with three inches of sucking wet mud. If the wind ever dies down we'll have a better look around this old place, but for now we just listen as it batters the trees into the stone.
None of us know how long we have to wait here. Captain says we are to protect this structure so our side can launch rockets from it if the war ever begins. Barnes says there isn't going to be a war. He says neither side is willing to start it; but here we are, drenched and freezing, just in case.
In the brief moments when the wind and rain pause we can hear the water trickling down through
ParagonBeneath ether-lofts;Paragon5 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
It's Clear From My EyesIt's all so easy on your own isn't it?It's Clear From My Eyes3 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.
Weak strainsI fall victim to those thingsWeak strains3 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.
Infectiousflecks of moonlight-blueInfectious5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
are distant corpse-brides: unfold
7 Deadly Sins: WrathHe clenched his fists7 Deadly Sins: Wrath4 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
Ribcage, butterflyYou unlockRibcage, butterfly7 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
The night zooLatelyThe night zoo7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I've been undoing
in a secret room
full of my echoes.
during the day -
I apply a uniform,
and stand behind it,
measuring my worth
with the stains of others' blood.
When I get home
I dig around in the pockets
of my handbag
searching for something
I cannot remember.
lipstick and tobacco
and it reminds me of
with a side of forever.
I sit on the couch
and wonder where all the
portals had gotten to.
Why all the speaking flowers
had left me?
I go to bed tired
and happy that I am not
married or pregnant.
Things could be a lot
UnbridledCoolness beats through the airUnbridled5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and it reminds me of the sweet transition
between a hot sweat and fresh glaze.
Finally, some respite -
the blue angels come back in broken threads
Drunken moons, swallow wings, and forgotten rooms.
Old wor(l)ds made new
with another Autumn:
similar, however, not quite.
I see you again:
you have new galaxies
but it is the old ones
I want to pluck them,
but they are too precious to uproot,
to pretty to steal.
I want to say:
you have answers buried
inside of you
that you do not know the questions to -
far away abstractions that
you cannot shape into
vowels and consonants.
The other afternoon
I saw some of those answers
expressed in soft gestures.
You asked me to come outside
to watch the thunderstorm -
some sort of exercise to
UnrefinedHer thick, peasant handsUnrefined1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
run along a pregnant Pisces,
she feels for the full moons
inside of its gut.
She slides a fat knife
that we've had for years,
de-scaling our dinner,
as she has many, many times.
I watch with childish cat-eyes,
from under a tangle of curly, blonde locks.
The sun glimmers through
the wooden lattice that covered
the entrance of our
open backyard kitchen,
I breathe in the afternoon-air,
moist with soil and fresh grass.
She smiles at my curiosity.
"esta tiene pescaditos", she notes.
As if it's skin were as clear as a crystal ball.
A swift chop
and the fish's head has separated
from its body,
it makes me think of a magician's
I pick it up and poke at it's dead-eyes.
I reach over
and softly touch its tail.
This prompts a wish
inside of me:
a pastel pink clam bra,
long hair and a pearly tail for legs.
She makes us
Huevos de pescado rustido.
I know where the fish eggs
But it tastes like it was made
in a land where unicorns frolic.
Love Conquers All.Love Conquers All.4 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!"
The SuicideI saw your pain,The Suicide10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and yet I did not try to fix it.
I saw the tears,
and yet I could not dry them.
You talked of your troubles,
and yet I gave no time to listen.
I feel as though I could have saved you, now.
I made no effort at all.
I feel as though I added to your anguish.
I wanted to help, but I didn't know what to do.
I cannot imagine the pain you must have been in,
forgive me for not seeing.
Oh, God, I don't know why I couldn't see!
Blinded by my own petty distractions and excuses
Too busy to save you...
I am so sorry, Dan,
And I pray that you're in heaven as I pray for forgiveness.
Please know that I cried for you once it all sunk in.
I have never cried like that before.
Please know that I am sorry.
do you know?01.do you know?6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
do you know how badly
she wanted you to breathe?
she'd take polaroid snapshots of the air around you
and she stuck all onehundredeightythree photos
in a little photo album
that she labelled help
so that, maybe,
if she helped you take those breaths
she could finally be your reason for living
since she could never be
just by herself.
do you know how badly
she loved you?
everytime you stepped into the room
it seemed like you'd replaced all the oxygen
and she couldn't breathe
but she loved that glorious feeling of you filling her lungs
pulsing through her veins
and even when she got lightheaded and saw stars
not one of them was more brilliant
do you know how badly
she missed you?
she spent every night awake until the sun came up,
waiting for her phone to ring
and your name to flash on the screen
but all she ever got
was a beep and a warning: low battery
and those dark circles under her eyes
and she wrote you letters
telling you everything she couldn't pu
that may.we turned off televisions and radios, hearing your name on strange tongues, and turned instead to solace; your grandmother, alone in her room, untold of your death. and Pavel, part crying to your coffin, part laughing towards the sky;that may.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Ira, in purple hail, we saw you standing there. your bones just buried 'neath the ground,
denied - we saw you everywhere.