She PlaysShe plays the piano
Just like an angel
Taking strides of her own
With folded wings
Clasped about her skin
As fingers intertwine
And hands do not rest,
But instead move
Across the keys
Unlocking the doors
Of a child's heart
As she sways
Into the Movements
Of a woman
The intensity of
Eyes permeates the air
Even as they are
To the stepping stones
Where raindrops wept
A million tears
That spanned across
And forever flow
No matter how torrent
She eases into that
As her vessel
Until the door is closed
And the song has
Ended, and an easy
Voice, is able to
Exactly what was seen
What was meant
In the Depths
Of her Ocean.
Your Name's My Best ObscenityThe sweetest curses are sugar on lipsYour Name's My Best Obscenity3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
If I died this evening, you'd find your name
aflame- the words I last shouted in vain
lingering on my tongue like a toxic kiss-
revenge is addicting, venomous pain,
even spent on cries I know are mundane
No fixing up this unholiest tryst,
forged by two fools who believed in their lies;
or maybe it was I, eager for light
even in spite of the flaws I had seen
Can light be fake? Were your twinkling eyes
a mere disguise to make me ignite?
Aflame, in vain, impure light fuels my screams
Of snowShe knows the windOf snow3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Tangled in strands of hair
Better than anyone
She knows the way the sun sparkles
Across an Icy sea
She knows every color of the sun
Cast upon a face
To be painted
She knows the molecules
Against brightened eyelids
The shades of trees
From small to Tall
In the expanse
She knows the way rolling hills
Going down a slope
Can lift you up
She dances in shadows play
And makes color palettes blizzard
She turns reflections on rippling water
Into ice sculptures that animate
Through glimmering light
And most importantly
She knows the warmth
Flightless Birdoh, why aren’t you flying?Flightless Bird2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
amaranthine feathers belong to you, the flightless bird.
wings, calloused and frayed;
your body burning from sunlight, flames bursting from within
little hot-headed creature,
mad at the airborne world above him.
oh, flightless bird – why are you so alone?
once you were the sun, but now you are the moon;
you fell into its craters, came out the other side,
but who are you now?
(purple-red, turning azure.)
your bones have stiffened, cracking beneath your skin –
you are held back, lost.
you don’t know who you are.
if you could fly, you would leave this place, and
release yourself from the moon,
and once again
become the sun.
when a muse stands silentdo you know what a feather is?when a muse stands silent3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a whimsical quill,
drooped at the top
like a willow tree's branches
hang their heads.
the ink at the tip,
a tear on the corner of an eye
smudging a porcelain face,
a writer wiping it away with his thumb,
the rest of his fingers
cupping a chin,
and he chokes out whispers that embrace
his broken muse.
Fever DreamsHush now,Fever Dreams3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and close your eyes
against this vermillion sunset.
You feel so much, too much:
leave crescent moons on my skin,
calm the anguished crimson heat
of your own burning heart.
This war shall end, my love;
but what will you be,
if not red?
AThere is birdsong andA3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sun-drenched long limbs,
sprawled across India green;
wet hair haloes and
a restless route scrawled
up arms and over hands.
There are blueberry smiles,
feet upon dashboards,
and city-light fireflies...
then there is you.
Always, always you.)
stop me if you've heard this one beforei.stop me if you've heard this one before3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there is a man on the corner of my street
who gave me a bottle of bleach
and told me if i drank it, i'd finally feel clean.
but i gave it back to him, and went home to take a shower.
because i am almost happy,
and i do not want to mess that up by
chugging bleach or fingering knives or thinking too much
about that man who turned my insides cold
from inside of his car.
because this has to be happy.
this has to be what happy feels like.
it feels like god gave me a vodka bottle
filled with nature and people and oceans and deserts and seas,
cause see, it feels like i'm drunk on life.
i have this nervous habit of scratching holes in my skin
and my mother says it's because
i'm trying to find something beautiful inside me.
she said i need a psychiatrist.
my friend asked me if i needed itching crème.
i keep laughing about stuff that's probably not funny.
i don't want it to rain anymore.
used to, i liked the rain,
because if i squinted, all the lines would be blurred.
SkinI watch,Skin3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I understand.
I taste stress in your sweat,
tension stretched on the surface,
in the landscape of your
knots in your muscles,
like pearls under
I'll untie the ropes
and kiss the blank
of your broad brow
and I'll write
on my chest,
things like silver lies
and soft secrets,
and wires of frigid truth
because the truth is
so kiss me back,
strike a pose,
be a body
and let our bodies
juxtapose like slow jazz
and your fragile ears.
take a deep breath
of me and
as you tell your
that I miss it too
Sky EyesDesert hands tell talesSky Eyes3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of a hundred arid summers, but
you are no longer as cloudless as they
(there is a storm
creeping through blue, blue veins).
But tell the sky to keep her sorrow,
that grey cascade blurring against
eyelids and horizons;
and suppress her misbegotten
droplets, seeping into the sodden
for there is still sun in your sky eyes.
Am I Worthy?Am I Worthy?Am I Worthy?3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Maybe I don't deserve all the views and the comments.
Maybe there are better writers out there that deserve acknowledgment.
Maybe I am not worthy of any recognition and attention.
Personally I don't think my work is even worth mentioning.
Maybe my words wont amount to anything substantial.
Maybe I wont make it in terms of a financial,
Atonement but can we just think for one moment
That maybe I write to express my thoughts on a page.
To release all the feelings held hostage in this mortal cage.
Maybe others can relate and reciprocate my words.
And to you this notion may seem insulting and absurd.
But all these favourites and feed back gives me an added purpose.
And for that split second when reading them, I feel like I actually deserve this.
That my whole hearted words are not dispensable and worthless.
That maybe I can actually make something of myself.
Give the people something real to purchase from life's obscure shelf.
Give my parents the life that they so justly
FableMoon cloaksFable3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(and you are)
left clad in only
the softest of
starvetoday, i don't hate myself enoughstarve2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to deny the hungers for -
a cup of coffee that will treat me like sin dancing to the pulse of my bloodstream
the absence of guilt
cracks in personality
screaming poems silently at my reflection
today, i will gorge
on the things i vowed to give up.
today, i will break vows.
today, i am a glutton
for relapse and binge cycles,
for starvation and changing reflections.
tomorrow, i will wish
i could be the skeleton that
hangs in my closet.
[ leave the tears where they lie,
take the fallen stars and ripped up wings,
do not regret spinning circles
around vices. ]
003its easier to say0032 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"i'm fine, just tired"
than explain the water rising
when really they just asked out of politeness
and don't -actually- care.
IntimacyI asked to be slapped—Intimacy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and your palm met my cheek
with constraint, cupped to lessen
the ensuing redness, the responsive tears
that welled but only in my left eye.
There are things like tealights
and dinners after midnight that we agree
to be romantic: that we consume
through antique filters, lace
between our fingers, but your palms
sweat when we hold hands
and I've never liked skin webbing,
nor the catch of calluses—
So, I propose to rewrite
a definition: mostly for my sake,
but also for the sakes of others
who have found themselves wondering
if they might be a-something
because they don't like to be touched
softly on the skin
or loathe surprises of any sort,
who would like to make love
then smoke a cigarette,
go for a jog without meaning insult
to the man in their bed—
Because when I asked you to slap me—
I meant to say I trust you,
Bless the AngelsClouded with the swelling lightBless the Angels3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Of breaking summer dawn,
The sky is barely peeking
Through the early morning yawn.
Gladdened heights of tinted smoke
Lounge above the glade,
Watching idly all the ones
Who hum a hymn today.
The bells of silver and of brass--
They chime a tuneless song.
Reaching to the yielding fields
And calling home the throng.
There they go with books in hand
To slip through mighty doors.
They scurry over cobblestones
Like ev'ry week before.
They kneel and ask a blessing
From the patron of the day.
Then ask to be forgiven
For their callow, wicked way.
The preacher gives the sermon--
Sad and yet sublime.
But through the congregation
A person shyly winds.
A hand tugs on the preacher's robe
A clinch unto his tongue.
He bends and gives attention
To the speaker small and young.
She eyes the crowd of gazers,
And whispers in his ear,
a stretch of doubtful silence
which lingers on for years.
Then she hides behind the preacher,
Their fingers now entwined.
The preacher meets the
Reality Verses The DreamReality Verses The Dream.Reality Verses The Dream3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Above the confines of the earths atmosphere.
I am embraced by the luminous clouds.
With the stars in reaching distance.
Surrounded by the acoustics of the sea.
Accompanied by the alluring scents of nature.
Observing the planets that stand like monuments.
This is the place where my body wants to be.
These are the sights my eyes want to see.
This is place where my mind can be free.
This is the only place where I can truly be me.
Now back to reality.
And the self perpetuating insanity.
Constricted by the codes of a conscripted morality.
Living in a world that is drenched in disparity.
How will I ever be able to see any sort of clarity.
Below the discoloured and tarnished ceiling.
I am held captive by my dishevelled duvet.
With only material possessions at my grasp.
Surrounded by a hybrid of silence and vulgarity.
Accompanied by the foul scents of decay and pollution.
Observing a society that stand and act like naïve slaves.
This is the
The Intelligent Are So SadA cascade of words parade around,The Intelligent Are So Sad3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with thoughts of atoms and connotation.
She is brilliant, they say,
but she knows she is lost.
Numbers are her companion,
she understands their mean, average.
Words can twist her brain,
she loves the wonder they bring.
She is intelligent, they say,
she doesn't feel clever enough.
Sometimes she feels clever too much.
Excusez-moi, in perfect French,
but nothing is gained by perfect word tense.
She is clever, they say.
But she is not clever the way they know.
She sees things as they are,
and she prefers her thoughts to the world.
She knows she loves them more than they in return,
and her friends will be there until they wont.
Friends reassure her, you'll be okay,
she puts a smile on her face.
She loves them as much as any,
even though there aren't many.
They bring out the best in her,
the happy girl,
not swamped by words.
The one who isn't drowning in formula.
Test scores and numbers don't mark you smart,
she knows this now,
engraved in her
HomeMy grandmother would say it's because I'm restless and young. My dad would peel himself away from the TV just long enough to grunt, "Did you take your pills?". But downing the bottle could not keep these thoughts away. No matter how many books I bury myself in, or the countless hours I stay at the computer redrafting old poems. I could watch every show, every movie created until my brain becomes slop in my skull. But the fears and desires I so stubbornly keep at bay always find there way in on nights like these.Home2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
The fear of oblivion, and the desire to run. The fear of oppression, and the desire for adventure.
I'm laying on my side in bed, all my limbs tucked in under the warm blankets and inhaling the fresh smell of clean sheets. The cat is curled up at the foot of the bed, purring as he begins to drift off. Everything is silent. My family is in the clutches of Morpheus.
But I can't sleep again. I want to blame this on the creaking that seems to echo from my wall, but I know why.
she got me warmvoiceshe got me warm2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
vanilla cinnamon pine
cares for me in
snippets of audio
quiet conversation sounds
like the tap of keyboards at
stuttered scared to scarred minds
who was spotless, tangerine girl?
where's this eternal sunshine, rocking chair boy?
we're just squinting at all the
awkwardness; the graceful poets
don't know how to strut
their tongues so full of
sound and fury
but mouths so full of sincere sympathy
and I feel it; I feel a healing touch in your
vanilla cinnamon pine palette painting
embraces across my brokenness
and my gratitude is deeper than I can reach
to give you so far down your song has sunk
into my aching bones
as it fell, i fell with iti saw a shooting star for the first time on friday.as it fell, i fell with it3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it was unearthly, so unreal above me,
skidding silently across the sky.
if you had been standing beside me, i would've
slipped my hand into yours and
[maybe] made a wish.
but it didn't happen -
my eyes were too weak to follow it into the dark,
the distance between our bodies too great,
my trembling, yearning fingers
"what does it matter?"
you said later. "it's only a meteor."
The lilies she lent (old)The lilies she lent (old)3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
In some mystic woods, bloomed an innocent bud
It nurtured delicately; from the vile world she was shut.
But alas; 'fore she left, ten love lilies of red,
that withered only at her will, she plucked.
She roamed the wide plains, with her beauty ablaze;
her scent aromatic, earning many a praise.
Yet gullible was she; the sprout of love
homed in her when she met the boys gaze.
Such charm and enchantment; oh what lovely art!
His ways did betray purity of the heart
his wines curled around the innocent girl,
poisoning her soul with his impulsive darts.
Yet one, con by birth, never has a strong hold
over one true love only, thus her love he sold.
For worthless gains oh such pain the girl felt.
With her will, one love lily withered in cold.
Yet he tricked once again; a true fiend was he
and innocent she was, she blindly agreed
to give him a try, only one try, no more
had she only known how deceitful he could be.
He broke 'gain the ties, he engulfed her in pain
another lily did wilt, each
let me beI saved this dusty corner of my heartlet me be2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Just for you, just for you
Just in case you come back to me
Even after everything we've been through
And I really do hope, what I set free
Will always come running back to me
And I've been spending too much time
Thinking about you, thinking about you
Trying to figure out our hearts
But all this left me with a heart in two
And I really do hope, I sweep out to sea
Only to wash up with you in front of me
The raging ocean, the sea, the stars
Let me be
Let me be
Let me be
Let me be
Just leave me be
I’ll just save this heart for me
And maybe for you, too
The raging ocean, the sea, the stars
Let me be
Let me be
Let me be
Let me be
Just let me be
And I’ve been keeping my love safe
From everyone else, from everyone
Everyone wants something of me
Let me be
Let me be
Let me be
Let me be
Just let me be
to be noti am combat boots. i am wishes on supernovas. i am washing away the year's dust, i am washing away the year's hurt. i am not paper-cuts, i am not ink stains, i am not words hidden in the moment before pen touches paper. i am the absence of regret, or guilt, or grief. i am never grief. i am never tears. i am never hysterical breakdown.to be not2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i am always hysterical breakdown clawing. i am never broken bones. i am never splinters. i am always accident: it was an accident i am an accident i don't know how that accident happened. i am always cold. i am never done writing about how cold it is. how it feels like i have ice for bone, i will melt in the warmth. you will see tears. you will see hysterical breakdown. you will see scars, and i will not know where they came from. i am a wreck waiting to collide with your confidence in me.
i am fifteen, learning to break promises. i am sixteen, wondering what part of older was sweet. i am seventeen, wishing i won't waste so much time trying to be what i'm
you are my regretlife lessons i could have done without, or why living hurts like hell.you are my regret2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i. friends will hurt you.
they will sharpen their knives
on every smile you share,
and the hand that you thought was
there to support you was actually
just searching for your weak point.
ii. old lovers will haunt you forever.
they are chained to your heart
like a suicide is chained to her rock
and both will pull you to the bottom.
knowing how to swim won't help.
i don't think anything will.
iii. an addict will always be one.
just because you've stopped doesn't mean
you don't want it, and you better keep
away from sharp objects.
just because the razors are there
when no one else is doesn't make it right.
iv. nights are the hardest.
when the darkness outside your eyes
mirrors the one you've been feeling,
maybe it's time to turn on the light.
stop hugging the pillow. stop crying.
no one will come to comfort you. do it yourself.
v. starving won't make you pretty.
even if your body is e