RapunzelThe way towards the tower covered always by mist, cold, dark, accompanied by hidden whispers and tangled in between the branches of the night trees: an owl taking flight, the tree branches as voracious claws, whiny wolves and beasts If you passed by sometime, the warm blood that goes through your veins would freeze, the ghosts that you hold inside you, those ones that you have locked up somewhere, would come out to devour you; only the dying yells will stay.
At the end of the world, there she was, inside, locked up.
The tower hold itself up over the trees, it was lost in between gray clouds and white snow. That turret was impossible. How could such a shapeless and demolished thing keep itself standing up?
She that unfortunate girl that was kept captive in the damn tower, had forgotten already the years that she had been accumulating with time, despite, even, of being unanimous witness of change: the body of a girl a few months old, growing up to become a beautifu
Peter Pan s Death Peter Pan's DeathPeter Pan s Death4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
1. Tinker Bell
It rains, it rains on Neverland. Every drop tells a story that won't ever happen now; every sound a scream that no human could be capable of listening. From the drops' smell confusing memories flowed and, just when they precipitated towards the ground, they exploded with small but effective whispers. Each molecule of water yelled when born: "Peter Pan won't come back".
A black cloud covered the entire island, from the Mermaid Lagoon, Skull Rock, through the Indian Camp, the lost kids' tree, Hangmans Tree, the Cannival Cove, the forest of the fairies At Neverland no one remembered the warmth of the sun anymore, no one was capable of imagining the blue sky anymore, no one could fly anymore, not even the Fairies. And, since they couldn't use their vaporous wings to travel long distances, they had to appeal to their legs that, tiny and squalid, couldn't bear it the beasts had eaten them one by one.
But There! Close to th
bred of missing bonesmy handsbred of missing bones3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
are made of coils
that i can dig into my skin,
shove down my throat
and add to the intricate construction
that is my body,
bent and hunched
over my donnism like a shot fawn
Stealing WednesdayJust this once,Stealing Wednesday3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
let it be an angel plume
floating on the borrowed breeze.
Something living but also alive.
A bouquet of forget-me-nots nestled
in the arms of Alzheimer's
the hands of hatred.
We aren't asking for a field-
The strength to take back tomorrow
Just this once,
Give us something we deserve:
The hidden dirt road
abortionI.abortion3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there is a story
about a girl
who throws herself down the stairs, because her
baby's father is her father and she can't have her sibling
also her kid.
with her becoming a harlot
that the world can fondle
when ever it pleases.
there is a story of a girl
who sits in the clinic, waiting
to be probed by the doctor
and carved out like a turkey
by the assistants.
she is thinking that
the world has always disliked killing babies
they have made it simpler.
it ends with her
Freedom and the Summer of CarbonThere's a band aid on her ankleFreedom and the Summer of Carbon3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
bleeding up her thigh and onto her neck.
A right handed whiskey bottle slung
over her razor wire shoulder .
Today, the train track was a catwalk .
Nothing about her hair or her lip ring
cried out "Help me". No, she was the
collective pulse and the sun couldn't set
until she took off those shades.
I couldn't leave until I found her eyes.
She shouted over the whistle of an approaching train.
"Sometimes you can find lumps of coal tucked between the rails.
They turn into diamonds. Didn't you know?"
"I think that process takes a really long time."
"Time is all I have and coal."
We stood off to the edge as the beast rolled by.
I think we both thought about what would happen
if we stepped in front of the next one.
Both in different ways.
"You should leave. I feel silly being watched."
"Diamonds right? Aren't they all about pressure?
"And heat." She smiled and removed her sunglasses.
paralysisshe created an ocean twice over,paralysis3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but it was not enough
to drown the infrastructure
of her bones, concrete and
sulfur; the dissolution of soil:
it was an abyss:
skin dissipating in blue,
the surf discharging
from corridors unexplored -
vacant rooms. she turned
corners and drowned.
arms once interwoven lose
embrace and submerge,
unnoticed by the quarrels
of musty walls.
no one fishes them
out of the sea
not even einstein was a bitch for science.when i close my eyesnot even einstein was a bitch for science.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there's this thing i feel in the pit of my chest
that sits on the top of my lungs, pulling
with each coming second
a tic that reaches to the marrows of my bones
and each cell on the tip of my tongue
and the nerves in the lowest vertebrae
and the crook of my muscles - -
but set close
** BODIES CLOSE
there's something in my heart that wants you
with the force of colliding trains -
the talk when our bodies move still
the pulling of lashes on skin
the click of knuckles over fabrics
the folding of lips on lips
we will dance in the traffics of our beds
more alive than any other stupid children.
** BUT DON'T MOVE.
don't fucking move.
soon the air will die around us slow
with the static of breath, and
we will forget how to speak.
The Things I Want to BelieveAn old man plays the violin outside because music is for everyoneThe Things I Want to Believe3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The coins you throw in the open case are merely for his collection
The graffiti on the walls is for promoting social justice
And the broken lock on my front door is really a complex metaphor for
My open mind concerning society
Those spiders are my pets
Their cobwebs-modern art
The bills lay untouched only because I enjoy toying with bureaucracy
Cabbage is my favorite meal
and canned food is a time capsule I get to destroy
He comes over early since he needs me too much
When he closes his eyes I know he pictures us
"I love this" is a euphemism for "I love you"
And the money on my nightstand is only because he cares
Ode to Many StarsHe walked awhile 'neath the stars, and watchedOde to Many Stars3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Them drape across the dark, in netting trailed
To catch the moon--pale and half-notched
With shadows cloaked; the shining silver veiled.
Those ancient denizens of summer night
Caught his forgotten world within their light--
Now it mingles with ours--forever fair.
Oft we would load our car, and travel far
Into the countryside; dark lingers there
When city lights dispel it from their sight,
But there, with farm-houses the only scar,
I too have stood and loved the dimming stars.
We'd bring our telescope, and turn its gaze
Until the rings of Saturn would appear
And I could see them through the earthly haze
Of distance, time, and nurt'ring atmosphere--
I still am young, but then I was a child;
Barefoot in tall fields, and grown half-wild
With love for all wonders I chanced to see:
The stars, the moon, the corn above my head,
The feel of grass, the shadows 'low a tree--
My parents loved me as I was, no mild
Weak or timid thing, but bold as the b
MinutesI cannot speak to what liesMinutes3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
beyond the wall of knowledge.
Whether there waits a god
to commend or to condemn us.
Whether there waits a god at all.
I have faith only
that our minutes together
are atoms, elementing us.
I have faith only
that, though moments
may be forgotten, overlooked, or lost,
like matter, they cannot be destroyed.
These minutes are molecules
in our solar storm.
We may dance with them
out past knowing and into god,
or we may dissipate,
throwing them into time.
Yet, I have faith
that these minutes will remain.
FreedomsYou have the rightFreedoms3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to tell me what I ought to think
how I should believe
what I should accept
and what I must despise.
You have the right
to tell me who I ought to be.
I have the right to ignore you.
waxingif everyone were howwaxing3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i wanted to be, there
would be snow instead of
sunshine; every morning, child
ren[d] would don the faces
of old women and shudder
out of doorways and
back - wrinkled and
worn and sterile and
stutter down the
streets, legs fashionably
fine and lips fashionably
blue: it's the latest trend
to give yourself away -
to throw yourself
away and i knew a girl, see,
she still lives in the
space between her
fingers, sunlight streams
through when she looks at
her reflection in the mirror -
illuminating her like an
angel from collarbones to
toenails and she, she cowers
skin, shivering clinging onto her
bones for dear life,
life, she seems to have given
up on life, she would rather
fly: carried on headache-highs
and the shadows over her like a
blanket as she slips down snow-
drifts, i wonder;
if she were a painter
she would be an impressionist,
all those colorful flecks of
frost, a warning you will
fall and pure and
airy as you may be, yo
DrowningI.Drowning4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I've been on edge for weeks, the iron in my veins has been spinning,
rifling the walls, spiraling but not descending,
me, I am
hurricane synapses and tornado mind.
Me, I am
the fool on the precipice
beneath the eroding edges, beneath
me, I am.
cracked, red clay,
empty air, and
I've been on edge for weeks, the iron in my veins has been circling
like vultures, waiting to coat my organs.
Beating, beating, beating on iron walls;
me, I am
a bell now.
pixie dustpeter pan and ipixie dust3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
some sort of understanding.
he was hovering around
my bedroom window
when he saw me crying
and i said, i'm turning twelve tomorrow.
that's when he offered
his hand and a little pixie dust
his hair was wispy, his cheeks i guess
still held a little baby fat.
and i couldn't help but notice the small
tinge of regret, the sense of neglect
that no child should ever feel.
maybe his eyes held all the wisdom in the world
all the secrets of the fairies,
how to reel in the little boys
how to build a family
and the terrors of being alone.
and now i'm seventeen, and i vaguely wonder
how old he would be if he grew up like me.
the last day of the WorldOn the last day of the Worldthe last day of the World6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(of all things)
wine favours the liver
far better than brandy.
there were so
many goddam miracles,
we couldnt seal
Those bricks wept
of hand-blood and
still they poured unstoppable,
through stained glass
Well, You grew my feet,
to fit certain sandals.
But hot blotches and spacious
sizes are no substitutes
Objective philanthropic growth?
Oh please, life was never so big.
I declare, what lit
and talking box,
will tell me what to think again?
What sediments of wit and foreplay
slip though these waves of mud?
Show me your chaos and
I will present to you
the gift of perfect order.
History built stone sticks,
from earth and wood,
to hold our strange desires.
Sand to glass,
towers with cloud views.
and we forgot to ask,
if they could ever disappear.
(Turns out they could.)
you can't break memy heart is your ashtray.you can't break me3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i'm your trashcan where
you toss your old garbage
and i attempt to dodge
your incoming problems:
the fact that i won't
let you fuck with me,
your whiny girlfriend who
doesn't like it when you
cheat, your parents always
kicking you out, no money
to pay for the crack.
my mind is your punching bag.
i take it all, i absorb your
abuse like a sponge. i let
you peel apart the layers
of my mind and find out what
makes me tick, what makes
me sick, what softens my heart.
i let you take me, i don't
care. i don't.
my body is a work of art
you bought to hang on your
wall. i serve to be watched,
to be touched, to be admired.
you analyze me, read me, until
the paint washes off and i'm
Writer's BlockWhere are you, ideas?Writer's Block5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Are you swimming in this here glass?
If I were to drink each bitter drop,
Would you rise to clear this impasse?
Do you swim in schools of thought,
Like a fisherman's submarine crop,
And with what bait are you caught?
What of you, inspiration?
What masochistic volition
Must I invoke to end this attrition?
Must I break my heart (again),
Or crack my bones and feel fresh pain?
Shall I walk to the horizon, stretching far,
Or reach out my hand to grab a star...?
Oh, there you are.
Lent 1 - AshesI am a child of ashes,Lent 1 - Ashes3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a proud sinner,
a waste of flesh and blood.
I am dust, and blind, born in shadow,
shy of the light.
There are worms in my eyes.
My fingers are cracked.
But there is One who bears a torch,
who can rekindle the fire
and burn the corruption
from my torrid bones.
My flesh will slough away,
my whoreish lips curl back,
and I will be incense,
a burnt offering.
When the flames have faded,
like a phoenix I will rise,
new and shining,
with no memory of shame,
a child of Your ashes.
relapsethis, I think,relapse3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is the way that empires
there are sometimes
but I will not go out
in such an explosive fashion
my second death
is preceded by decline,
slow and inglorious;
erosion working its
upon my architecture.
the difference is this:
disaster is unprecedented.
it is a noble sort of way to fall,
at the hands of that which
you could not control.
but I am allowing myself
to crumble to dust.
the forces of entropy
have not strengthened:
I have simply stopped cobbling myself
will discover my ruins
psychiatristi wasn't born with a bubblepsychiatrist3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in my chest, where
every time something
instead i was
born with an anchor,
pulling me down
can't get up
off the floor.
over-extensionhere i am cultivating my little garden of loneliesover-extension3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a sponge, a chair, a shoulder
here i am with a wad of cotton batting, filling up my cadre of empties
line you all up on the shelf in the back of my head
pull you off and hey, lovely, how are you today?
how was the test the date the hospital the visit to the morgue
did you panic did you leave him did you hurt yourself
are you all right?
here i am lab doctor of chemistry far away, drugging up my
The Life BeforeBig courtyard withThe Life Before3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Garments of silk,
Bracelets of jade,
Young girls with their
Thick black braids,
Old ladies with
Bound feet and canes.
And when they go
They leave behind ashes
And pasts aglow.
The life before
Only grandma knows
But what happens
After she goes?
sticks and stonesthe face in the mirror is so terrifying that she can feel her dreams tripping over each other as they scramble away. there are so many roads to choose from, each one sprouting roots and tendrils to drag them to the earth and keep them captive until they disintegrate into lost ideas and terrible thoughts. lust is dead, she muses as he pounds away at her door, please let me in, janie, you know you can't stay holed up in there forever! there is no pleasure in this as he whispers through the keyhole, a penny for your thoughts? (he's penniless)sticks and stones3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i'm dreaming, she announces to the empty apartment (he left twenty three minutes ago), licking her wounds in her bleak kitchen. now she's shivering under the bed, now she's sitting in her closet, screams muffled by clothes she stuffed in her mouth. now she's drinking, now she's passed out, now she's dreaming. there's something beyond the sky she can't quite reach, no matter how high she jumps off that rusty trampoline.
sticks and stones