Passion FishHolding you I jumpPassion Fish10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Into the spectacle of the sea
Sinking into a school
Of vermillion grouper:
The day-star strikes a path for us
Deep into the swelling rhythm
Of the ancient blue,
The somber cool;
Above the surface,
A vanilla sky;
From the inside
Of a flower;
Our hands explore dark waters for treasured touch;
Separating seaweed with fingertip scythes
Of poignant flesh;
Being with you is like floating for the first time
In my own personal ocean,
Or standing barefoot in the wake
Of a tsunami, unafraid;
Or holding a jewel
Gaurdian AngelGaurdian Angel11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Clear blue eyes
Lifeless and empty
See what the world misses</i>
The open wounds of a torn heart
Picked and prodded at
Flushed with salt water
And left to scar
The burning tears
Flowing freely down pale cheeks
Scorching the skin
Left to puddle
Shimmering cold hands
Try to save
What the world dismisses</i>
A broken soul
So obviously lost
Left to stand vulnerable
In an uncaring cruel world
A shattered body
Ripped into pieces
Left for the scavengers
To tear at and destroy
Calming gentle voice
To comfort the one
The world forgot</i>
ThoughtsThoughts13 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
In the months that I've spent on deviantART, I've met numerous people of all ages and from all walks of life, joined together as a community by a single entity: the love of and for art. It didn't matter whether one was into poetry, wallpapers, 3D abstract images, prose, indyart or freehand; what mattered was the love shared for works that spilled forth from heart, soul and mind.
Many times have I sat in front of my computer screen and cried for no other reason except for the fact that I was, clichéd as it may sound, moved to tears. Some works I understood more than others, and this was because deviantART not only allowed us to share our works: it let us interact, meet, greet and debate at large whatever the topics may be. The community that existed here was a step above others, because it was not based purely on interaction or art alone; both elements combined gave an even more honest view into an individual's soul and personality, and with that, knowing a person made their works conta
A Few Points About EmoTheese are reasons why i once hated emo, but for now today i updated this so here are a list of true facts about them, wich will maybe bring light to some people about what they were really doing.A Few Points About Emo7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
-Removed the entire thing. I've grown up in the meantime, and looking back at it i realize how biased most of these things i wrote were. I apologize if i upset anyone, most of those things were truly just accusations. Not like if i care if the style is stealing from another one or not anymore. However i will write what i think now.
Lots of people say that they became "emo" because of XY problem which caused them to dress up like the way they do. Emo being a stereotype to begin with(hence being able to tell if someone is "emo" on first sight), i find it hard to believe that with all the personalities in the world being different, all these different people who became severely depressed have all decided to go down to the store, buy the expensive clothes and make-up, and dress up to the exact sa
dirty pretty poemsdirty pretty poems9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Cold tea-cups jumped
off the table when I opened my eyes this morning.
They must not like the sound of my eyelashes crashing into eachother
and must know how sometimes
oxygen feels too far from our sinking lungs.
When my hipbones became loose hinges,
half sliced off and a sore-thumb view, it did not occur to me
that I was ill, just a little bit below the floorboards
with the taps of people walking above, nobody ever knows
when I am there.
I believe that wine bottles mean something different
and for me it is not just a delightfully fruity
drink to sip with friends, it is a two pm lecture I cannot build up courage to go to
and pretending my head is in the clouds when really it is with my heart
under the table and wine bottles are just another way of saying
my red eyes are locked in a drawer with black underwear and sad songs
and I do not want to let them out today --
the wine is all gone now
and so am I.
Paintings are beautiful and I want to draw your eyebrows in
Lying Through TeethLying Through Teeth9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Some people forget what its like
To have love
And be loved,
And be so deep in love.
Oh what a wonderful job they do
While lying through
But I should speak for myself
and let it all out
IM PERFECTLY GOOD AT LYING TO MYSELF
You made me believe in what could never be
and all of those warm and fuzzy feelings
That only existed in my
So thank you so much
For holding on for so long,
and prolonging my heartache with another
poisoned love song
And watch me fall apart
Like I knew would happen from the
Now, I know Im no where near
and obviously Im not worth it..
And Im still trying while
through my teeth
when I say....
"It doesnt bother me to simply see that you're with her now
and not with me..But thats okay. Im okay!"
Because I am
PERFECTLY GOOD AT LYING TO MYSELF
Headphones and ExpansionHeadphones and Expansion9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am the soles of his shoes, I must like the feeling of my cheeks
against the gravel, he presses my jawline in
hard, I keep coming back in an attempt to pluck out
each pin shaped stone. There is not much inside apart from old cogs
and plastic tubes that twist around my spine,
something burrows into my stomach and sits,
clattering as I breathe and I have to keep on hushing it up
as its fingers start to pull my ribs apart
so the world can eye my heart up, open like empty drawers,
so I can walk around with my pores unfastened
spilling out everywhere.
I did not mean to crawl so far into his jean pockets
because I knew it would be so hard to wash my skin
out of their fabric. He is like a two AM fire alarm, loud
and I must heave my body up and stumble down the stairs,
'it's too cold to stand outside with all these half-asleep students
at this time in a morning, will you let me back in?'
He makes it rain and my eyelashes do not make good window screen wipers
There's a boo
we have enough roomwe have enough room9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your mother has confusion in her eyes
and keeps rotating her thoughts
to and from
your heartbeat, this is a fever
that cannot be cured. Cups of tea can soothe
and late night chats can replace the air
they took from your room,
I am trying to put it back
you are stable now.
the lopsided alarm clockthe lopsided alarm clock9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fed up shuffles at nine thirty-five
take us up heaps of streets that twist our legs,
leading us down rising lanes
on brittle ankles.
My breath is placed there, on slopes
that drain my morning laugh,
it sinks in cracks
of worn cement
and trampled in hearts.
It's too low
for palms to touch right now,
my lungs roam, only half-free,
they plod behind my boots
while upstairs a buzz, much like the commotion
made in playgrounds,
makes my pace increase. Or try at least,
with the weight of bodies me holding back,
a wall of stone on string
attached to my ribs.
Nobody is home when I reach reception,
just a sign to say 'please wait'
and the sound of impatience is spat
into once clean air. Empty room with walls so bare
and limbs that ache. I think I am a hospital patient
waking up from theatre
with eye lashes grouped together
begging for more rest.
vaccinations left a bruise or two
and it's hard to open these heavy doors,
they are everywhere.
asea, tonightasea, tonight10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I'm at your door; can hear the brass and bass,
the snare drum, through the glass. It's jazz, tonight.
You let me in and suddenly I'm in
a room of profound poets, who sing their verse
through shining horns, sweet saxophone riffs.
The solos drift so richly, dance among smoke rings—
tonight, when everyone's somebody's cool cat.
There's a girl whose trumpet weeps when she woos its keys,
those wailing notes like Miles would have played.
And the long-haired bassist pains his face as he plucks
away at the tired shape the body makes,
he sways. And when the guitar's clean strings do sing,
it's melody carries a twang so sweet—it's jazz,
tonight. Tonight!— We can be alive, tonight.
And I'm in the corner, no horn in hand, not even
a cigarette for now. I'm just a shadow this evening,
no harmony for me. Just silent taps
of thumbs on thighs; of a breath before sirens sing.
Tonight, blue tunes knew the way through a smoky
sea—found me… Last I heard they were still awaiting
LesbianMy thoughts wandered back into my fourth grade mind frame.Lesbian9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She had beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes,
And a perfectly white smile that reflected the sunlight like a mirror.
She was a good teacher, mmmhmmm, good to look at,
And I even knew it back then,
Before I knew I was a lesbian.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Ranbows are red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple,
And so am I!
My thoughts wandered back into memories of Sam, my first girlfriend.
She was shorter than I was, with wavy black curls,
And with hazel eyes that seemed so enchanting,
And she had beautiful pale white skin, mmmhmmm, lovely girl,
And I knew it then,
I was a pre-teen lesbian.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Rainbows are red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple,
And so am I!
My thoughts wandered back into memories of "coming out".
She came out on accident, and 'she' was me,
Brave enough to accept the fact that people were noticing,
But smart enough not to get myself into trouble, mmmhmmm, that's me,
buckled down, babybuckled down, baby9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
This bed feels like cardboard, I am tucked inside
egg-shell skin, I try to unbolt myself
and crack hard into the air.
Your picture drips down the walls,
door hinges stretch and groan
while records shuffle as I chew up old love songs
until they understand what it's like
to be small enough to hide under
the clunk of your shoe-slap
on slippy floors as you walk away
-- fingers are gnawed by their sharp edges.
I was always independent, but ever quite free,
this room churns like cogs
and clocks spin out of tune. I peel away
heavy scabs from shoes that rubbed
my ankles raw, my skirt, fresh from the laundrette
mocks me as it presses against wounds.
Belly down on hospital sheets, my limbs hang
over the sidelines, loosening slowly --
your voice sounds like an applause.
I can dangle your words over edges
from my fingertips, pull each strand along
the uneven ground, so the thumping,
throbbing letters from clipboards
crawl on behind me.
The carpet is soaked with you.
unqualified after midnightunqualified after midnight9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You opened the old curtains
with your wood-dry fingertips.
They were heavy
and the cloth yawned morning-breath light
into my face and it took my eyes
about five minutes to adjust.
I was unable to speak.
Three days later, I managed to spit out
an unclear 'I never stopped loving you'
I should have unclogged my thirsty throat
and said how much I love those dimples
by your mouth.
I should have confessed how I want to climb inside
and rest there
but we did not have time for that many words.
The day felt depleted already
and you were about to leave -
so I put my head on your warm chest
wishing I could peel back your skin,
unbolt your ribs one by one
and whisper a raw 'don't go' into the gaping hole
letting your limp hands hang loose,
I scratched my cheek when you came close.
You withdrew, leaving the door ajar.
I wanted to vacate my body
and this spent-up room, where sunrises
and nine AM traffic
remind me of you.
I removed those ugly curtains
so I no longer need
battlesThis fight started with wailing scratches on the wall.battles7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Thrown thoughts conceived in violent torrents of tears.
Begged like a hooker for your just desserts, cherry on top.
Concrete pouring out your mouth quick-dried me there,
the sledgehammer of your twisted logic beating holes in my reality.
Bass chords shake loose the foundations of us.
A stupid misconception mingles with sounds of ragged breath,
Love was more than a weakness for some of us…
did that make me any less dangerous?
Spinal jellyfish wrap passion venom into the spineless.
Caught that bottle half swallow,
tentacles dipping dee
Humiliation by rapidographHumiliation by rapidograph13 years ago in Humor More Like This
I stumbled half-asleep into the main office like I'd done hundreds of Mondays before, but was suddenly struck speechless by the adorable new receptionist behind the desk.
I choked on a mouthful of donut. She was a petite brunette with huge turquoise eyes and a natural peach blush to her round face. When she smiled, I swore a cloud of pixie dust swirled around the lobby. Glassy-eyed, I managed a "G-g-g-goo' morngh," or something that resembled a greeting and swallowed hard as I headed to my desk.
My buddy Tim came up to me and whispered hoarsely, "Dude! What do you think?"
"The new girl? Geeze, she's a knockout!"
"You gonna ask her out?" he asked.
"I would be a fool not to, but..."
"But what? She was checking your butt out. I saw it! She wants you man!"
I wiped donut crumbs off my chest and took a slurp of some cold coffee. "She does NOT want me you dork." I found my
Maybe and WouldI write small, cursive Maybe and Would7 years ago in Other More Like This
the letters of a journalist
who was maybe five years ago abused.
She got out. Its fine now.
And maybe she lived in New York City. Maybe every morning
as she buttoned her bruises up,
she admired the excellent dirty streets.
It was with a fragile sort of hope.
She wished on drainpipes, discarded cigarettes.
if fate diagnosed her terminally lucky
at the exact moment a taxi heaved itself forward
into the path of her erected thumb, it would just keep going
the brakes would just
There was nothing