WreckageHe stole my virginity, put it in a box. Tied it with a slimy bow,
one that fastens and locks. Threw it in the fire, watched it sizzle
and burn. Started to take my value, burned it taking turns.
He trapped me in leather, smothered me till I died. Threw my body
in the trash, never even cried. Left me there to rot, left me
for the rats. Skin pallid, limbs limp, eyes as black as bats.
He left then, and somehow I returned. Crawled through the wreckage,
void of all concern. Eyes were black and lips were cracked. I
wandered like a lifeless doll, feeling I'd been smacked.
He never returned, never said sorry. Left me in the dark at the
bottom of a quarry. Now I'm walking with a limp, soundless and
mute. I hope you know it wasn't fun, it wasn't even cute.
The Malicious ClockThe malicious clock counts the children's heads, their bodies of ice stream wearily down, forever casted namelessly into somber; through the gardens their voices drown.The Malicious Clock2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of an angel's grace enslaved are their wills, for the secrets within are separately spelt, through the eyes of the damned are the contracts written; preparations are burnt living, but the papers shall melt.
Slaves of our evermore coming wrath, childish souls broken and glued with nobility, the veils of strategies enclose their mannequins; controlled by our standards they embrace hostility.
Years upon averages their meek bodies initiate tasks, to set aflame doors and bitter the placid, replace their organs with a simple flask; the clock observes all with a mask of acid.
As Death ApproachedAs death approached, the girl just smiled.As Death Approached2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"You've kept me waiting for quite a while."
He wonders "Shouldn't death you fear?"
"I've always thought that death was near."
The girl turned away to sink what she said.
"I have always felt I was already dead.
I float through this world without a care.
It's almost like I'm not really there.
So, no I'm not afraid of no longer being.
You can see that I'm already nothing."
Death just nodded. What she said was true.
"Regardless it is time for me to take you."
The girl stood up, all ready to go.
An afterlife she thought, wasn't likely to show.
Death did his duty, and took her away.
The girl finally had her awaited day.
ApparitionLittle girl,Apparition3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You have out-grown
Yourself, and these
Childish notions of
Monsters in the closet.
She holds her breath
Until the sun rises,
Because no one taught her
How to sleep
With her eyes closed.
There is this
Delusion about you;
A belief that if
You stay awake,
There will be no darkness.
It is damaging you.
Cold and silent,
With her darkened fantasies,
And remembers a time
When she was not-so-
Into unrecognizable shards.
You have found your only
From all the lifetimes
Too fearful to live.
Too lost in your waking dreams
To see new realities.
It will all
Be over soon.
RiddleI speak to you in riddlesRiddle6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Because I don't know exactly what I should say
To show you what you mean to me
In a less than ordinary way.
So I'll speak to you in a dead language
And hope that you understand
The way I wish you would control me
And the way you hold my heart in your hand.
I'd court you with more grace
If you'd show me what it takes to win your affection.
But I am much too bashful to look you in the eye
And ask you for complete direction.
I'd learn to speak Arabic, French and Russian
If it meant my words would hold true
And bare every nuance and inflection
Of the way my heart yearns for you.
But alas, love, I cannot do these things.
Because my vocabulary is a bit lacking.
So please be satisfied with a lack-luster poem
A misshapen sonnet scratched onto a napkin.
So I will speak to you in riddles,
To show you what my voice refuses to portray.
And I will secretly hope that my desire for you
Is obvious in every single way.
Salsa, Rice, RhythmThere is something splendid aboutSalsa, Rice, Rhythm3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a Peruvian man leaving the rice to burn
because he is unable to keep himself
when a good Salsa song comes on
there is something exquisite and wild about a woman
paying uncontrollable obeisance to the rhythm
thrilling to the beat
waxing and waning to the sound waves
there is something gorgeous about the
the movements, like an untamed clockwork
the way the line between sound and
limb's poetry blurs
fantasia's demise comes with a soft
followed by a drought of wakefulness
surprised to see walls and ceiling
surprised to be alive in
only three dimensions
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.
Forge of the MindForge of the MindForge of the Mind4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The iron forge sang.
Sing a song,
But it's all gone wrong.
Tears streak down with grace,
Beats of the falling mace.
Turn regrets into ash.
Said good-bye too soon,
Stuck in the mind's monsoon.
Things will be restored,
Straighten out the bent sword.
The forge of happiness.
Convince the mind,
Become one of a kind.
Keep the stars bright,
With the newly forged white knight.
NightingaleSweet Nightingale,Nightingale3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Will you not share your tale?
With a song of such passion,
With a voice with such compassion,
A voice so soothing,so calm, so kind,
The most troubled spirit is sooth in mind.
Such beauty in both moonlight and sun
And such other beauty, there is none;
Your eyes that glisten in the night
In darkest times, you always glow bright.
Sweet Nightingale, you are my all;
So long as you stay, I will never fall.
And yet I find myself with tears
Which shall shed for a thousand years
Your beauty incompared
Can sadly not be shared;
Together we cannot be,
For you are apart from me.
Caged, loved by another,
Your voice I see belongs to no other.
And yet I still wish to hear you sing,
I wish for you, sweet Nightingale; I beg you take wing!
So beautiful and kind; how I mourn there is another.
For I love you, Sweet Nightingale; you and no other.
the sandbox girlmethodicallythe sandbox girl3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like butterfly corpses
within the confines of a
plastic sandbox body,
to sanctify her thigh
and reclaim a foreign entity as hers
through the most animalistic
of vices -
to the piquancy of grasshopper legs
nudging at the borders of her veins
called to arms in a deafening
only in the space between
locks of hair who hang lank
and the whispering scratch
of her toes that curl against the carpet,
something within the frame
of a satisfaction and a fear,
and despite a promise proved false
if you will call this strength she is so proud of
He Doesn't Need to KnowHe doesn't know I love him.He Doesn't Need to Know6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I hide it in the places no one else knows;
sandwiched among the fondest of memories
thriving between my pores.
I am healed by it in the places unseen,
Bridging fissures in my soul and
Folding creases in my heart.
I protect it in cascades of moments,
Masquerades of silly smiles
and crooked grins.
I will share it once he knows
and I will thank him
for not knowing that I love him.
WaitingI shall be waiting for you hereWaiting3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
'Til even Death dies,
The Universe shatters
and the lights fill my eyes.
I'd dream of you daily
If I could sleep with you gone,
But, no, I must wait here
And sit here alone.
I know not the Devil,
Or God in the air,
Who can make me leave you.
Anything I shall bear.
Oh, love, I love you.
Oh, your soul I shall save,
So I lie in the grass
To wait by your grave.
My Romantic Bones Are Dancinglove is...My Romantic Bones Are Dancing4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the ability to face torment
from a thousand needles
drilling a million holes each
into the same square of skin -
the gouge is a constellation
accompanying an epic tale
that's every brand
the knowledge we are broken
by familiar hands
and restored by
familiar arms & lips
a metaphor for the inexpressible
god in each of us;
manifested in a flame, licking
hollow spaces in our yawning caverns.
one soul seeking the fingertips
of another soul seeking the fingertips
of another soul seeking
reparations for its mundane sins.
the first breath, the last breath;
the purpose of inhalations between.
the art of making loveyou and i make lovethe art of making love4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
without ever taking our clothes off:
through the cheesy poems we write for
each other, through all the sidelong
glances across the dinner table. your
palm pressed into the small of my back,
or when i have to reach up on my toes
(or sometimes, jump) just to place my
arms around your neck. when we nuzzle
our noses like inuits in the cold and
talk about growing old together. when
you start to fret when we aren't
holding hands, when i see your face
in a mirror and smile and suddenly
feel beautiful. all the gentle kisses,
laughing until my ribs might crack,
holding back tears when it's been too
long since i've seen you.
this is how we make love.
Fake Friends And See Through Lies"I'm fine"Fake Friends And See Through Lies3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How dare you people listen to my lies. They are more see though than a window, yet you say nothing more.
"I asked her how she was and she said fine"
Yeah that's what I said, but what I meant was completely different. Instead of helping me, you leave me alone. You did your job, good for you! No, you did the bare minimum. A.k.a nothing.
I'm not fine
I'm not alright
And I'm defiantly not happy
I'm so sick I rip at my own flesh
Trying to get the hell away from all the sadness of this world
You really want to know how I feel?
And I'm tired of this shit
Let me tell you a story
About a poor little girl
Who got left alone,
Just like me
She went crazy
And tried to kill herself
So many times she lost count
The only reason she's still alive today
Is that God refused to allow her to die.
Did you like that story?
Did you know it's true?
Do you even care that that's my story?
Or that I need help?
You ignore me
Try to make me
Make Me Mistress of Lies and Goddess of ChaosMy brightly burning ice giant; god of fire,Make Me Mistress of Lies and Goddess of Chaos3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
My silver tongued lie-smith with weighted whispers—
Will you still love me on Ragnarök's byre?
When your children wage war on their elders?
For the nine realms will be nothing but chaos,
And each will sit back to watch the destruction
For none shall be able to forestall this loss,
Or find another world to which they can run.
If you say yes; that you will adore me yet…
Should I trust those lips which kiss me sweetly?
That weave such beautiful tricks, traps and nets
To trip and catch the Æsir and their army.
Tell me, if it should be my breath leaves first,
Should you take another into our bed?
Or should you deem this world to be accursed,
And wait for the fates to cut immortal thread.
DysthymiaThis here's my old friendDysthymia3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Whisperin' in my ear.
You see, he depends
Upon my despair and on my fear.
He tempts me, taunts me, tries me.
He treats me all afoul.
He keeps himself quite busy.
He's teasing me right now.
You may look upon this game, this race
And think that he offends,
But I'll keep smiling in his face
Until the bitter end.
Mothersa warped wickerwork rocker moansMothers3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
under a weary mother keeping vigil.
wisps of her maternal endearments,
leaking, streaking down the balustrade.
her swollen husband sleeping,
seeping, across scattered vinyls.
on her blind cat's chin, milk spoils,
dripping, crowning on the hearth.
her resolve, as if on wings, fleeting,
haunted by ephemeral apparitions.
her baby's in battle, prone in rubble,
seeping, across scattered warriors.
oh woebegone, mothers are heroes too,
and too often we abandon them.
Late Night LamentLate Night Lament4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
One recent night I decided to walk, read and watch three movies.
Why not? I couldn't write and had the popcorn and hours to myself.
Spent most of the time on a Will-Smith-movie-night. Watched
"Enemy-of-the-State" when my daughter called, blithely
interrupting though she hates that if I do, only to say,
"Hey, Mom! You get to see Will Smith naked now! Woohoo!"
Dear child, I watched it for Hackman though I have nothing
against Will Smith. It was Will-Smith-movie-night,
but I like Gene Hackman too, maybe more if I kept score.
About this flick she was wrong, Will just stripped to his underwear,
not disappointing, Hackman's great, though younger stars tend to 'share.'
Then I watched "I, Robot" and you know? I've seen all these films before.
But daughter's right about this one, Will's nude in the shower,
fair sci-fi stuff, a good line first by Asimov, with lots of
'bot action and more-than-enough of the fine-buff-stuff.
Then a walk in the dark for me, sli
Insomnia and Body PartsThere wereInsomnia and Body Parts3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Timeless moments spent between us,
In those instants and hours before dawn;
That time when we traversed
So far away from this
Wretched house and into
The most delicious darkness
That time before our tidal waves
Came crashing down on us again.
I would do anything to
Drown with you.
The softness of the flesh
Between your knuckles, the
Exquisite map of
On your palms;
They were like a lullaby
To my sleepy fingertips.
The breath of your mouth
To teach me to close my eyes
And fall asleep.
Your contented whispers and
Observations of the sky
Showed me then how to dream.
I had no idea what home could be like
Until those seconds and infinities.
As you traveled the expanse
With the curiosity of your hands and
The rebuke of your lips,
Because you always liked
To fix things
That were broken.
WoundsThere was a girlWounds3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
who cut herself
and spilled her emotions
It came out in a scrawl of words
or a vague picture
but it was never opaque.
She was too weak
to hurt herself
But she cut
with the stories
and the pictures
of the hopes and dreams
that would never come true.
Beginnings and Endings Both Sound the SameI woke up this morningBeginnings and Endings Both Sound the Same3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the sky was falling
I cried, because
it was bleeding, too
(and I wondered what happened to God
to make him shed such painful tears)
but they said it was only a sunrise
and I was being too loud.
I asked why it was that solar rays
ran in rivulets throughout
prominent moments of time
(like wars and funerals and departures
and those heavy events we pretend never happened)
but they ignored my cries
and the sunbeams that were entangled in my feet
and trailing behind me,
showing all the wrong turns I made
(they wouldn't see my limbs
raw, ragged, from running
with no destination in mind)
I guess I was a little too loud-
they can only hear you
when you're completely silent
and, by then, it's too late
because the sun has already set
(the opposite of a sunrise,
but they each have the same affect
because they both signal an end
of everything you've come to know)
it's too late for me, I think
God knows, too, and he weeps for me
bits of sky and bleeding sunrise
16The moon renders a highway163 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As the trees paint the spectre,
You sit with a stillness — unnatural;
You listen for the twigs to snap.
My pulse is a bird straining
Against a cage of flesh.
The Girl with the Glass HeartHe pitied the girl with the glass heartThe Girl with the Glass Heart3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for she was not made of stone like him.
He thought, “her poor, battered heart must be so broken
that its shards cut her from within.
She must wish she was not so fragile,
that she was unbreakable like me.”
Then one day she said to him,
“my love, how I wish you were free.
I pity you and your marble heart,
carved of the hardest stone,
So unmovable by anything—
you must be so alone.”
Shocked, he argued, “but you must feel such pain
in that frail, little heart,
and I know nothing of sorrow
for I have remained apart.”
Eyes and voice soft, she persisted,
Stubborn and silent, he listened:
“I know your black, granite heart is beating,
but I realize you just survive;
a statue standing still so long
can’t know what it means to be alive.
You pity me for my