The NegativesThe negatives rolled out like a dark water wake at the magic hours.
Burned with the past reflecting.
The mental film always playing back all of our sweet encounters.
On the wall, projecting.
And tired eyes look up at the smiles and your lovely shape.
All Together, perfecting.
This dark place only shines of all the memories and pain.
Here we are, ending.
Slaving away in a room, piecing it frame by frame.
The color of your hair, and how it always changed.
The whispers in my ear, and the listless games.
Then you would disappear in the curtain's flames.
The times you cared, and the times you stayed.
The loving stares, and then you walked away.
When I was child, swimming in Superman's cape.
The curses on your tongue, and how I chased.
Rewinding the pictures all back, but soon they may break.
And gone forever.
Don't let them hit the light or they'll be exposed as inane.
And you won't remember.
The moving photos cast their colors, flaring around me.
I can take no more.
Further it goes in the
Tallest GiantsI once walked amongst the tallest giantsTallest Giants3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I once spoke against the greatest men
I once traveled through the light and into the darkness
And it's here that I'll make my final stand
I've seen these lives, so shallow in their nature
I've seen this world; I've seen these grains of sand
I've seen the dying, and I've seen the lonely hearted
But I haven't seen myself where I am
And if I die amongst the many, the many I have never seen
I will not be forgotten, you cannot be forgotten if you've never been
I'll take these tattered dreams, and turn them into diamonds
I'll watch, as you all just stand and stare
Because, we all have walked amongst the tallest giants
Just as we all breathe in the air
I Belong to The HurricaneI belong to the hurricane I Belong to The Hurricane3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the screaming, untamed maelstrom that cleaves away puppet strings
and sharpens its teeth on misconceptions.
I belong to the harsh cold winter of an aching truth
one that beats a drum like a heartbeat under the graveyards,
whispering things that our ancestors knew (but we have forgotten).
I belong to the hurricane
yeah, that's the one the same storm that broke my back and scratched at my eyes.
It flayed open my chest and showed me my own diamond bones.
I belong to angels with battle-torn wings and voices raw from howling!
I belong to war
and to the air that sings a dirge for your dying freedoms.
I belong to the stark white walls of an empty room,
in the form of dangerous thoughts breathing in your ear.
I belong to rebellion.
So here, my friend, is to the bullet casings on your floor,
And bandages made of blankets you once slept soundly under,
And heartlines worn deep in the palms of your hands.
If Nothing's What You Give...Aloof and arrogantIf Nothing's What You Give...3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He moves amid the crowd
Tight-lipped, unfeeling and cold
He cares for none of it
He sets himself apart
From all the others
But that's not it at all
He doesn't like some of the things
He sees but others he loves
And he doesn't really know
What to say how to act and so
He draws it all into himself
Bottles all of it up between tight lips
Swathes his feelings in a cloak of cold
And inside he feels withered and old.
But he wishes
He wishes you all could see
Through his mantle so icy
Into his burning pulsing heart
But with fear he is torn apart.
No one's a mind-reader
No soul's a book
No person sees so deep
Just with a superficial look.
You get what you give
And you've given nothing yet
So if nothing's what you give
Then nothing's what you get.
proserpineEros pierced Death's barbaric harmony;proserpine3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Spawned by the arrow, untamed desire;
Earth's sole daughter, impossibility;
Set steel ablaze, stone soul lit afire.
Spring's innocence marred by rotting corpses;
By Charon's crimson pomegranate, trapt;
Chariot of Apocalypse horses;
Queen of the Dead, no one heard as she wept.
Entranced by fragile flora, narcissus;
Nightmarish skeleton grins raffishly;
Impoverished earth, angry grief tremendous;
Incarnadine tears, thieved felicity.
Lavished in jewels, reluctant tsäress;
Spirited away in winter's caress.
I Never Stole a Traffic ConeThere has always been a silver lining.I Never Stole a Traffic Cone3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But if you melt it down
Shape it into a bullet,
It will still kill a werewolf.
Not all dogs chase cars.
Weeds don't know they are killing the Petunias
Even monsters die
The only difference is that they don't get flowers and nobody wants what they leave behind.
Things could be a lot worse.
Eight black balloons
The last Raven feather
A gray hair floating in your tomato bisque.
Knowing that blood tastes like dimes.
I still believe that there is good left in our world.
Orange things make me laugh.
I knew a girl who thought that ghosts only
haunted mansions in
AmaranthineThe ache of youthAmaranthine3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And seasoned untruth
Like corsairs flee
To the surging sea
Every last treasure
And mundane pleasure
Like rivers will be
One with the sea
But wisdom at hand
Like grains of sand
Will return to me
Braving the sea
For all a man learns
And in toil he earns
He plants in a tree
That endures the sea.
Inked MelodiesSometimes, he pretended that his fingertips were soaked in ink and he wrote. He wrote on every single thing he touched. On walls, desks and even the air he touched. He didn't write about anything in particular. Sometimes he wrote about people who run their whole lives trying to reach something not quite clear for them only to find out they were actually running towards their own death. Other times, he wrote about love and how some people spend their days searching for true love till they fall, not in love rather because their knees just couldn't hold them any longer. However, most of the time, he wrote about his dreams, thoughts and life. When people asked him why his wrist was always clinched as if he was holding an invisible pen, he just smiled and said "so that people wouldn't forget me". No one understood him.Inked Melodies3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
'You don't know it yet, but someday everything I wrote would shine through the walls. Someday everything I wrote would come to life and light the way to those who are l
let's start a riot.Maybe it's all about finding your heartlet's start a riot.3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
in a broken maze
full of thorns as you walk on fire
to get to a light that will guide you home.
I admit that I've always been the type
to believe your heart will never stay attached
because sometimes you can lose yourself
whenever you let go.
(Sometimes it feels like the whole world is insecure,
but insecurity has always been the newest trend.)
spunthere were spider webs in his irisesspun3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
they functioned as framing for the paradise in his inner brain,
delicately hand-crafted by [glow in the dark] fairies
A Cautionary Tale of Beauty and Age and Wisdom A long time ago, when the woods were greener and the skies were bluer, there lived a girl. She was strange, they all said, for she'd spend every day, of every year, wandering the forest dressed in nothing more than a thin white dress. Upon her feet she wore the kiss of damp moss, on her arms the cold wind knitted dreamy sleeves. Frost gave her skin a natural pallor, and growing wisdom had made her brown eyes deep and beautiful.A Cautionary Tale of Beauty and Age and Wisdom3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
In the middle of the forest, in a place more secret than legend, lay a pond. Its thin and icy surface portrayed more than a mirror - the pond's skin was opaque with both the translucency of truth and the transparency of lies.
It was on an ashen midwinter's day that the wandering girl found this strange little watery place in the beating valve of the wood's heart.
Kneeling, she sat beside the pond's waters. The green grass was soft on her legs, and the lonely tears were hot on her cold skin, 'Tell me,' she whispered
impress an angelA simple command, but I couldn't decideimpress an angel3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
which of two things you wanted me to do:
teach my fingers how to climb a harp
or wait one more month for winter
so that I can lie down in the snow, face down
my arms spread a flight's distance apart,
leaving Gabriel's broken fall right on your porch.
In the end, I decided to ignore you.
So far there have been no consequences
unless a new-found fear of smelling
like lake water is a punishment.
If I were the person I'm trying not to be,
if I were the writer I'm trying not to be,
I would grow a pair of wings and fly right now,
but I'm trying to make it out here grounded.
It's a simple challenge.
All I have to do is resist the tips of my toes
and my imagination that wants
to move the clouds into a spiral staircase.
Aurora Borealis is out looking like a flight of attic steps,
but I've nothing to hide up there.
Tonight I'm trying to impress an angel
with my coy little courtship.
It's no song and it's no dance,
it's no feather behind my ear
or a sunset