You are not an islandI have been alone. This man is an island.
The cliffs of my shoulder blades
hang heavy with grief, ore, suffering.
I am draped with the permanence of gravity,
So do not believe that you cannot move.
Come to me, water babes fully grown,
Allow yourself to be swept in salt and ash.
Tumble with your brothers into my arms
and be at peace, at last, on the shore.
I too was once drowned, but I arose
and as the caps melt, all things will erode
For no man is an island alone.
The Bone CollectorSometimes my breath catches in my throatThe Bone Collector9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the very stillness of an earth going
a thousand and three miles per hour
gets lodged there.
Sometimes these simple exchanges
leave me breathless, croaking on dust:
the unfiltered pigments of other people's skin
and blood and ash
but with my tarred lungs and itchy eyes
I sit and sift through charcoaled remains,
alphabetising them from c to c. I am lost
in a world charred brazen.
Many things I have loved have turned to ash.
Many people. I was naive enough to think
that there was some perfect nutritional truth
that could outlast hell-fire.
I claw through a world turned ashen
and know those dead embers collect in my cells
They are the harbingers of a truth
I do not want.
The skittish earth throws its skirts about again
to unsettle us all, and I am unsettled
Alone in the dirt, organising piles of bone-dust
he did not love, at all.
KissingMy lips are still freshKissing3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from our fevered kisses,
even after they slowed
to a steady flutter;
matching our erratic heartbeats.
My lips are still raw
with the urge to kiss again.
(c)loves and (c)loversi am no artist's muse,(c)loves and (c)lovers1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
i am no ship's harbor
i am no hero's weaker heel,
i am no good earth's flower
i have never been your lover
nor have i ever kissed you,
- not even once
though i dream of you (c)love-scented,
with lips shaped like a lucky (c)lover's-
kissing you and to be kissed by you
i can never profess,
not even confess
even to myself
i stay standing, (b)raving the cold nights,
pretty much batty and bootless
the absence of you weighs metric tons on my
shivering nape, and
you dam(n) me with
you are my river's boulder,
and undefined border
AfterIt follows me.After11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
My silver skeined ghost.
An almost imperceptible thread;
only visible when you shine light
directly upon it.
It follows me.
It rides the underground.
It hides under bridges,
It is woven into the spools of tar
that form the roads between.
Inevitably if I walk too fast
it reminds me -
Like the tug of stitches in your cheek
that reminds you; you have lost your wisdom.
It reminds me.
It trips me in doorways,
when my mind is elsewhere.
If I look away from it -
- it slips round my neck.
Another knot to throw over the beams
it mauls me without a fair chance.
I tried to sever it. I can't.
Only the corrosion of time has a chance.
So for now, I am tethered
to the fragment of my heart
that I tore out for you.
Although we have placed it in a shroud
and declared it dead,
the umbilical thrumming keeps me awake.
It does not desist;
the connection to that unwanted slab of meat.
Cher Charades: A Terza Rima Dear aurorean wraiths of past mistakesCher Charades: A Terza Rima8 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
release man from your unliving remains
cast him out of your silhouette heartaches
Overmorrows are stained with past champagnes
drunk on a once implacable fervor
amassing populace from all terrains
Eros is a cantankerous server
of all who fall into his mondegreens
while Venus keeps track like an observer
Love's veiled in cashmere curtains and smoke screens
lost in childish charades of sweet sixteens
Guide MeThe shadows of my past, like trembling fingers, strum the song of warfare with my heartstrings and piano-key-ribs.Guide Me1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
The ghosts of empty faces, empty shells, waltz to the tune of my miseries.
The war raging inside my head, like the waves of an ocean crashing against the sides of skull, cause me to drown in insecurities so deep within my tired vessel.
I am tired of this warfare.
I am tired of playing the role of some valiant soldier.
I am dimming under the power of the shadows, of the ghosts, of the war inside me –
And my only beacon is you, dear mother.
When the fire rages on, and the music is gone, I will always look to you for guidance – and you will guide me to safety, always ending the war within me.
alienthe flagrant impossibility,alien1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the undeniable otherness of you
(ineluctable and raw
as a cracked egg,
glints in every turn of your eyes.
you are a universe
a system of Heavenly bodies
heavy with influence:
planets whir at your fingertips,
I wonder how you see me:
as a dispassionate judge of the cosmos,
my actions a blur in a sea of
equal and opposite?
or—do I excite you?
do you ponder the
composition of my atmosphere,
the molten heat at my core?
do you ever,
for a single, measured moment,
forget your station
and allow yourself to be pulled
into my gravity,
playing electron to my
barely there, nearly
jumping energy levels,
if this is true,
I also know
that when you remember yourself,
pulling the threads of myriad orbits
tighter about you,
there is an electric sort of magic in your gaze
whenever it meets mine.
Aurora (Borealis)The vermilion sky melted and slippedAurora (Borealis)1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
into a barely muddied, ruddy hillside
powdered-sugarcoated, vanilla ice-whipped
The vivacious glory-of-the-snow
sabotages the dead silence of the season
with its vehement, blue-violet glow
Know that I see the gleaming aurora in
your laugh lines, life lines
in the palms of your hands and
pads of your feet, unfurling the unsaid
The north star becomes
a cardinal bindi on your forehead
Know that I feel you are heaven-defined
prophecies pressed into my spine
You want to whisper across my tips and capillaries
breathe in sky-blue butterflies, out sea-green envy
I want to compass through your crust and marrow
with every very ounce of streaming sanguine in me
To keep burning bridges and breaking-off roads
marooning our mauve mere of melancholy
To reclaim yourself under new wintry dawn odes
finally, fathoming the worth of the word, 'free'
The vermilion sky melted and slipped
into a half-baked, chocolate hillside
asleep in sleet, numbed and tight-lipped
Ocean EyesYour ocean eyes will inherit the earth,Ocean Eyes1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the gulls of the sea will not brace you
for what the waves and winds have broken down.
The pearls of your mouth are just now washing to shore,
and your endearing reach trusts with ivory naivety,
but your lack of profanity will not save you from perversion.
All I can do is sing you love songs,
and hope the world is still worth saving,
when your ocean eyes reflect the sky, still blue.
Hollow Memory of a Distant ShoreYou are like a long passed season.Hollow Memory of a Distant Shore1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
As delicate as the footprints of sparrows in freshly fallen snow.
Intricate, yet so easily disturbed when care is not taken.
Somehow, you have managed to persist after all these years.
Residing in the same quiet place you carved into the woods so long ago..
Only a short ride from the sea.
When you cross my mind, you carry with you the scent of that shoreline.
Harsh and thick, yet somehow placating.
Though the weather was perpetually gray, misty, and cold.
Much like your heart had become..
Just before we painfully, and slowly, parted ways.
I recall with deep longing your fascination with foxes.
With the way they would trot up and down the beach in the early morning,
Their coats most often wet and muddy from crossing into the tide.
I could see the subtle enthrallment in your eyes as they dug for clams.
They would thrust their forepaws deep into the muck, throw it backward..
And at times, to my assuagement, you would smile.
Now, it feels more dist
MatterIt is only a matter of timeMatter10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
until the stone lays down with the sheep
Rested firmly above the holes
where our eyes used to be.
It is only a matter of matter
until epitaph and eulogy diminish to dust
becomes the eternal home,
not where our souls used to be.
It is only a matter of fact
that our words will become reductionist, redundant,
the world will forget
where our words used to be.
ForwordI have not become strongerForword11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the broken places.
Bones ache of age
and each cracking joint
is an audible reminder
of paths walked too long
and of steps
that should have been,
but were never taken.
Bent fingers jut
from palms of sandpaper,
calloused and crinkled,
they cannot grip
with that same eager desperation
of a child seeking comfort.
Black becomes gray
at the gates
of troubled temples and
once saliently sweet,
decay on the tongue
like the sound
of necessary words produced,
but never employed.
I have not become stronger in the broken places,
but scars and bruises,
sprains, cuts and concussions this day
are always better than
regrets and second guessing
Unfold, Part IIHear me read itUnfold, Part II1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
My bones are creaking.
I hear them gossiping while I sleep,
and they talk of me.
They call me maddened.
They say that the blackness,
the ravenous cave, has devoured me.
They talk of me,
as if I am not here. Am I?
This was my safe space,
In the warmth of my own breath
Now it cages me.
My fingernails grow so long
That they pierce through the paper
and my eyes go wide to see
fragmented light once more.
Rock BottomThey say a rolling stone gathers no moss,Rock Bottom1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
so when I shudder to a halt
The rocks in my feet continue to grind.
I feel the sand in my lungs
and the regretful mist silting in my heart
as the waves come back in
reaching eagerly for my legs, spooling, churning
over me. Rooted in my misery.
I know the rocks in my feet will help me drown.
Cluck Thiswhen circadias begin to floatCluck This8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
upturned on a stagnated river
and you yourself are heart down
with your crest fallen about you
then look for the end in me.
when closing your eyes brings light
and the sun kisses carrion
with your heart clucking openly
about some misdeed, some old seed,
of misfortune from its past - then
then, look for the end in me.
OIt permeates everythingO11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
It is the cells. It is the cell
in which I am rotting.
The sheen over my eye,
the flesh I rip from the side of my nail,
the teeth I grind it with.
The tears, blood and sweat.
It is below carbon and hydrogen,
embedded in the air I breathe.
It is sleeping under my fingernails,
It is the undeniable, genetic, atomic truth.
Oh, my oxygen permeates everything.
It is the cell.
United, We WriteHear me read itUnited, We Write10 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
0hgravity, if by some divine fortune you should decide that today is the day you will fail me, then let me soar through the ChemicalSkyline. Grant me a-lovely-anxiety that raises a storm InTheStarryNightSky for me to riseandbe above all else. Let me soar.
How I long to be the frail rider-on-the-storm and not a victim of the RoamingShadow, Rogue-Of-The-Night, that BlackVelvetNightmare of my nights and days. I long
Ghostfog wraps aroundGhost8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and she wanders
like a lost child
he had once told her,
to be fooled by your emptiness
there is so much
more room for
but he had ripped
out her heart,
and now she is struggling to survive
in this world, alone –
but there is a difference between
surviving and living,
and without august, oh darling august,
she has simply existed –
she is a ghost of who she was.
BuriedUnder the paprika house,Buried10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
are the bones of my father
and nestled between rib
and reason, is our love.
Ineffable: A Rubaiyat Sometimes, when it's tranquil and I get to p o n d e rIneffable: A Rubaiyat9 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I begin to fathom we're made for each o t h e r;
I know that God plumped up my chest and its c o n t e n t
to safeguard your worn out bones from curling o v e r.
Laced, our hands trace shadows under mint moon's c r e s c e n t;
we are lost causes and divulged dances o u t s p e n t.
I know my skin is downy as opposed to y o u r s
for you to take shelter under my winged s e g m e n t.
Still, understand that you're the reason I can s o a r,
accept that we're a pastiche of paramour c o r e s.
I'm the answer to your unspoken l i t a n y;
Surely, you're my inglenook and my lifeboat's o a r s.
Star-writHear me read it!Star-writ8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
It is nebulonic fate that we should dance
together in this burning bald ballroom
as the flames lick up the sepiatic walls
and drip curled paper down upon us.
It is our right to spin each other here
in the torrentous reign of flames and ash
as the chandelier, already hanging,
spits and sparks at us, trying to take us too;
and as everything we ever loved or cherished
in porcelain veneer or hand-crafted sycamore
crumbles to a close, still the thought remains-
that it is our star-writ fate to dance on.
stomachedyou blush and bruisestomached3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with sidewalks, stones,
the quiet doorways in your thighs
and the weight of your purple
tongue against mine
(a carnival of teeth)
if you swallowed the moon
with your agate jaws,
you could not be more nacreous
Breathe But My NameBreathe but my name in silent prayer,Breathe But My Name1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I will meet you there—
in an open field of golden grass,
by the windmill, I'll wait and rest,
while moments come and moments pass,
until your shimmering shadow appears,
moving like sunlight on stalks of wheat
as wildflowers dance and tickle our feet,
our giggling smiles and eyes will greet.
Breathe but my name in silent prayer,
and I will meet you there—
in the rushing current as streams converge,
then flowing as one, like a new song
heard in a dream as we both emerge
from the end of the old forgotten path,
amidst the magic of fairyland falls,
of misty air and moss-covered rocks,
drawn by the power of ancient love.
Breathe but my name in silent prayer,
and I will meet you there—
in a dandelion's wish, blown and caught,
inside each precious seed of thought,
ours to define beyond words once taught;
so when I breathe your name in silent prayer,
you'll know it as yours and meet me there—
anytime, anywhere, that stirs