Eyes That Understand (S)painEyes That Understand (S)pain
Rubinstein plays the suicide note,
you take me by the noose.
Breaking down, dancing in favor of my ashen
vestigial,looks, in an
Segovia fumbles to get in tune.
You devastate my moribund, cloudy,
eyes, with yours so dark, lonesome,
You dance untamed, hair unbridled
Twirling, arms reaching out towards celestial shine.
Such an unbound ache flows, from mine eyes
so absent; dying tears yet
collect, profoundly by the full peak of your
mouth, causing the sting a trauma; you
Breath in, then resonate so completely
The cry of an Andalusia night.
We leave flamenco's origin for your heart
Between the subtitle hills,
white shuddering knolls;
"Vamos a explorar nuestro mundo..."
Seville, freed us both from eyes so absent,
They became ruined, like
The shell of that ancien
Odyssea AbstititWhen the blue jacaranda mocked the skyOdyssea Abstitit3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Sleep bound was she, the drowsy brilliance
below the whispering branch.
Her Caño Cristales hair,
strewn amongst wild blue and green;
Partially over her wanderer, like a warm
crash of wave.
"Your laurel tells of death
but I still need you."
And he,understanding, wept.
"Your garland speaks of the flowers, streams
and the meadows which is our home."
"Here, is where I still love you
this place, where arms renounce arms
with care, warmth and adoration."
"My arms tangle in shadows, and
my mind only imagines; night falls
on my face within the whirlpool."
(She in a dream)
"Kalypso; she cannot keep you.
Our fire was kindled
in the glorious Springtime,
and stays in all the places in
which we played. Wherein,
you loved me and I you.
The flames stay, waiting,
in the marital bed that you made."
-Once more, awake from the immensity-
The depths they spake in choirs
4:00 Insomnia4:00 Insomnia4:00 Insomnia3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Bedded by insomnia
Sight, barbed by black
It is the same dream,
The fantasia breaks in
My head, splinter
Of light bulb ashes
Only the cerebral
It is not a form.
A half pence
Tin, and broken
Oily and screeching
Yet no sound is made.
A waking vision
I cannot wield
That narcoleptic need
s o u
A Vision of Aphrodite on the ShoreA Vision of Aphrodite on the ShoreA Vision of Aphrodite on the Shore3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Here, in this mind of petty indignation.
Here in this place of stale bread
and salty tears, is an image
of a maiden warm, and intense, blood stains
her lips; an opiate calm enters her air,
When Ceres' heat comes, it screams
out from her passing by, the beauty within
Exile, sounds within the pattering
of sandals atop dipping sand.
The green dress fell like a burden
she was happy to give over to Artemis.
When she removes the band from
her hair, the wind smells of juniper,
the water swirls with brunette.
I would go to her in amour, with blood
stained lips, and mingle flesh.
Later,the wicker basket would overflow with
wine from Florence, a silk blanket brought in kind,
touching worry, would caress her form, (that the
Sun did not dare abuse), bringing gentleness to a
bare lithe wild flower.
Instead, I enter the waves of indignation, a mind
beaten with shards of glass, a throat scarred from
sorrowful sour mash. The night swal
Johnnie Walker Black: In Memory of HitchLike Hume, you said that the soothsayers are underJohnnie Walker Black: In Memory of Hitch3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It is made so by the hopeful wish-
and the need to impose their hucksterism;
bronze and iron age mythology on the masses.
You would never say confess, that he or she
knows less and less. Instead, they at least know
Less and less about more and more.
Thus, I digress to the molded glass
and the "amber restorative."
They all looked so sheepish, even when they fell,
To your wit, style,and brilliance;
Though the sheep would never tell,
only bah and sputter.
Thus I digress to the glass,
"accept no substitutes."
You sparked then ignited a contrarian name,
a simple spark that made flame, yet
cancer made you let go.
We who are free, were lit the same so that we
Will keep the flame, though you will never know.
And I finish the glass.
*Verba volant, scripta manent!
Aeneas LeavingRage is dew on thy lustrous skinAeneas Leaving9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dido, scented like my quintessence.
Pierced and burning--brightest horror,
Brightest image on the devout horizon;
Is the light of my crossing, now meant to shame me?
Why can't I turn the eyes?
Why won't you turn away? Oh Punic star!
Phoenicia, burning, burning,and Rome in dreams.
You will turn away, in that country
That last of meeting places,
Where death is love, and all those dreams
that once bled from our whimpering eupneas--they run.
Eliot and the TitanSwallowed worldEliot and the Titan2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
By way of drumming streetlamps;
I Titan, who once traveled between the concretes and life
Now suffers this synthetic sun,
for such is mine empire:
Frayed ends of imagined cruelties
Where a hecatomb is my body
My body is now a place where commuters eat.
I am undying, forced to cling these images,
Of urbanite resentments.
Winter an emotionless change,
Bring to me obligatory languages
Sailing through alleys of simpering questions,
A coiling of conventions.
Elemental women talk their quartet
Breaking salutations daily over my pain
Plucking gently my chains they speak:
“Misery! to thy name, misery!
'Tis epochal to suffer such sting
Aye are the hours and tidium it springs!
May garbage blow tempests
With papers baring tongues!
May it beckon and glide
Until thy mind dries like tubers.
O titan chained, titan of woe,
May Iove forever spurn you slow…”
Here are scenes at four-o’clock, dusty trams, vacant lots,
This is what happens when the street lamp sings
Cordis Somnium*Fall past the asphaltCordis Somnium*2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Thro’ the honey bee scene
Dip thy feet within
Naides’ yielding stream.
Thine arms splayed toward Hyades
A grey morn consumes the sun
Rain brings silk to the heat fraught meadow;
For time to touch thy form, it must run.
And thine hair was a mess after the rain.
“Will you ask it of me soon?”
Before the world is found to be concrete and sprinkled streets
“Before my qualms on leaving find the noon?”
The sharp cry of the meandering city
Thrives on slapdash letters, in cheap, restless dives
Therein reside, the silent concerto of our drifting
Where individual voices drown, and no lover's awakening lies.
Nymph (AIGLE)Νύμφη (Αἴγλη)Nymph (AIGLE)2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
“I hear you are sick
I miss your ravenous eyes
Why neglect your need?”
I wrote some poetry for you muse;
Famished, beautiful girl.
I repressed your private plight
For I had something in my eye.
“Aigle, your sweet dance
On the tarmac in Delphi
Was the heart of time.”
The leviathan of panem & circenses,
Licked your ears clean; Cassandra
Fibbing in her looking glass, wanted you looking lean;
And the craked ampulla jar, received you on your knees.
“Was I deluded?
Now my sight aches at your waist
Your thighs haunt my love.”
When we were younger, and mislaid
I never could take the words out of my chest
I never asked of you, the most important questio
serpentPretending to be a lover,serpent5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you come to me as a man
to the pomegranate tree,
blind sighted by your hunger
to taste of its
Now, a serpent transformed
with darting tongue
sniffing out the promise
of fallen fruit
split by crows taking flight
as you approach
low to the ground, unblinking
stare like tiger's eye
when I succumb the weight
of cool scales wrapping round
the membrane, smothering
rubies of luscious red with the
undulations of your legless crawl,
to the heady quench and thirst
between the spongy chambers
of bloodied pith.
A Night of CrowsSoul dark her eyes bleed obsidian, like a fever of liquid-shadows,A Night of Crows3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
seeking her lover damned…
And a myriad of talons will seed the sky — a primeval calling
of necromancy and lust untamed
Upon her breath, I whispered softly in winged-caress:
"cast thy nightscapes unto the ache of gossamer streams"
So she closed her eyes and her demon lover hungered long..
— Forever the Crow — shimmering in her darkest dreams
— Arthur Crow © 2012
The Last RoseThe Last RoseThe Last Rose3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It was several days after I turned 19 that I saw snow for the first time. In Melagoya, the forest in which my city lay, it never snowed, but that day it did. I couldn't explain the feel of it, or even the way it smelled, because it didn't. All I can say was that it was cold, or so said the servants, and white, a pure white.
"It is as white as the innocence surrounding you," my mother said softly as we sat there together in the palace library by the window. Surprised, I turned to her. My little sister Telane disregarded the words, staring at the quickly falling snow flakes with all the wonder and awe a child like her should have.
My mother was a noble woman, to say the least. She was the queen of Toyun, the main elf city in which we lived, and a beautiful elf. I was lucky enough to have inherited her coppery red hair, which hung in curls over her slender shoulders. H
A Gypsy's TravelsI assigned myself a visionA Gypsy's Travels3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and resigned myself to a gypsy's travels.
I wandered the precincts
pawning my trinkets for change
instead of cash, collecting experiences
the hue of a prophet's intuition,
a pallet full of perfect memories
painted across the landscape.
I ignited ideas as incense
as I read my lucky cards by candlelight,
melted wax poured out as libation
to the pathways my feet have etched out.
I Never Had Intrest in Being a Sheep or ShepherdI never Had Interest in Being a Sheep, or ShepherdI Never Had Intrest in Being a Sheep or Shepherd3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
II never had interest in being a sheep, or Shepherd
Those old swindlers of Sinai's biblical mount
Made a miracle of that ignominious heap
IIThe Shepherd bids our knowledge sleep
For a sheep's mind cannot amount
Made a miracle of that ignominious heap
IIIThe staff a spear for youth to weep
The ancient hymn, a coercive shout
Made a miracle of that ignominious heap
IVI never had interest in being a sheep, or Shepherd
6000 lies of meter (I have lost count)
Made a miracle of that ignominious heap
VLook, the swindlers mount bustling with sheep
More than a sleepy fellow would ever want to count
I never had interest in being a sheep, or Shepherd
I could find no miracle in that ignominious heap
Shepard and Jack: Watch over me"You dumb ass you no good boy scout dumb ass " A woman groans, looking around a small cabin. "Had to play hero you stupid GAH!!!" She yells, throwing a helmet with the label of N7 across the cabin. Slamming her back into the wall, the woman covers her eyes with her palms and cries. Why did he have to die? The only man she ever trusted with all her heart was gone. He promised he'd come back, that he'd survive, that they'd have their freakin' happily ever after. She had talked to the whole crew. Garrus, Tali, EDI, Joker, they all said the same thing:Shepard and Jack: Watch over me3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"He died for all of us, even you."
Every time she had to squeeze her temples to stop the tears from coming out. She thought after the years of being an experiment subject, of mercenary work and fighting that she'd become so tough she'd never cry. The only times she'd ever cried involved him. When he persisted to break the wall she had put between herself and the outside world she cried. Before the jump thro
PersephoneI fed herPersephone3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and she cried
at every frozen sunrise
for 180 days.
With cracks in my heart
caught in my hair
I counted 180 more.
O FevraleWitching hour, welcomed with a sigh,O Fevrale3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
bare-breasted and ink-stained in the night.
Half in love in this half-life half-light;
pisat O Fevrale navsnryd, dreaming
of the gods. Wanderer, today I died and
died again, and whispered prayers
to clasped hands… until the nestled
droplets fell away like sunrays at dusk;
and when moonrise came, I sang again.
to everything there is a seasonI.to everything there is a season1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
as a flower or a man,
i shall burst,
as a corpse, i shall
peel away, and
return to the earth,
the air. i'll be in
your lungs yet.
look, it’s not that i’m not
a little bit charmed
by the concentric circles
of existence, and the love,
the bitter, bright and
it’s not that i don’t like
carrying this body that is a miracle,
a miracle in the sum of its parts.
kahlo got it, she knew what
she was talking about –
but i won’t put words
in a dead woman’s mouth.
and the hot sweat of it here,
the pain, the fuck and the sour wine
of it here,
it isn’t really chaining me
down. i’m thinking of
did i ever tell you
i’d like to die on my back,
looking at the sky?
in one of those faraway places
i saw from the car as a child, the top of a hill
seen from a distance; someone else’s farm,
someone else’s land. someone else’s emptiness,
a thin line of grass between
dirt and the inf
SehnsuchtOctober again;Sehnsucht3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the curtains billow
with broken glass echoes and
Mendelssohn's bride waltzing
to better times
She becomes the rain,
and breaks her own heart as the sound
right through us.
Tacking on WingsTacking on wings,Tacking on Wings3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
slowly into shoulder
blades made gaunt, it’s
your suffering jaunt beneath
flesh; your eyes dart away.
Along the lines of
whittled down youths,
along the lines of broken
tracks you down. You save
face like all the others.
Cicero said,“Cibi condimentum
esse famem, potionis sitim.”
Yet, you do not care,
for any philosophy
that has not come
from gaunt “goddesses”
butchering from atop treadmills.
Dublin once rang with
"yes", out from Molly
Bloom. That Moorish wall sinks;
within your smile where
rose peddle maidens forget
sentences. When I first spoke
with you the maidens
wept from those lips,
soft fears for big words.
Any example of free
thought, you held as horrid.
‘Trends’, you said 'are so
much easier'. I wish that you
might understand me, but
it is clear that sympathy
tightens you like modern
prose, peering over the jaded
Ribs are the forever
novel fashion trend,the
philosophewords tumbled out of yourphilosophe4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
mouth. urgent, thin lipped
maiden. the king has lost his
heart to the weeping of his
he drags them to bed with
crocodile tears and false
you cried from the tower,
regicide. the king is murdered
and his heart is displayed for
all to see. torn through by the
greedy fingers of his lovers, he
could not sputter a complaint to
their bodies sank into the
mattresses and blood stained the
floorboards. we knew this would
become of them all. such unfavorable
faces, the gods could not
my hands cannot move fast
enough to save your story, i
can only watch you tremble.
eyes thick like fog, you repeat.
the king has lost his heart.
Stardust.I partook in the poisonStardust.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of your miracle, for
I believed you a magician:
You pulled chronic weariness
from my marrow—
from hazy depths grown
The eggs spoiled fast:
you pulled from your hat
an act of distrust,
and you left me
Trying to HuntThere was a tear sometime into winterTrying to Hunt2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It was deep onyx and browbeaten
Bleeding murk that grayed the snow,
In an unknown portion of the cedars;
Cold filled the sandwich up with slime.
“Time” said Rex, “the seer of all things
has found you out.” (Trudging went the boots)
Winter looked soft but wetly it chaffed, it made
One’s feet miserable; the gun kept slipping
And the jacket decided to forgo its warmth.
There was no grand effulgence amongst the Ether,
There was no “I” in the clouds; what was one hunting?
Geese they flew in an echelon that burned in white
Every year feeling it out, knowing better; ‘they must feel
Love? They bond for life;’ no “I” was in the cloud.
Horrible is a truth that one can find, reflected in
A swath of nature, there is no help in the hollows
Or the brooks, no solace when blood is in one’s ears
Consciousness buzzed along, and breath labored;
One listened to the heartbeat atop the clinkin