The NightThe Night11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
deep slow moans
come from the roots
of the earth
and bend on themselves
fingers of the trees
in a sigh
they stretch out
like the hands of a beggar
to turn off
profondi lenti lamenti
provengono dalle radici
e si tendono
dita di alberi
in un sospiro
come le mani del mendicante
Something DearRed skin glistened under a sudden rainfall of water. The droplets curved around a smooth-shaped façade, playing along like it was no big deal. There were patches of green mixed in with that smooth carmine, yelling out with glee. They were light green, nothing too dark; not like an olive - just a perfect combination of springtime merriment. When the water soaked away with a rough towel, the hard, ripe flesh shone even brighter then before, and it almost made me wonder about the predicament I was in.Something Dear9 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I remembered when it fell from the sky, landing on the grass with a small thud, creasing down the blades of grass that welcomed such a strange plummet right onto their cheery little homes. The welt in the ground wasn't that big, my whole fist fit right over it, leaving only my thumb to bury itself beneath the soft sediment that sprung to life. Lazily I zigzagged back and forth as I trailed happily in an effortless return to the house, done with my curiosity of the excitement outside.
Understanding GraffitiUnderstanding Graffiti9 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Understanding Graffiti: Learn To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb
An essay by Benjamin Alldridge
Choke train buffers like a head-locked Ed Koch
Nurture the craft of concrete visionaries
Cave painters screaming "Loosen the cuffs!"
Cave paintings get the natural history feather dust
Pick a lust.
Aesop Rock really says it best with those lyrics right there, and sums up the general mentality of society towards the Graffiti community as a whole. Throughout this article we'll investigate why that is, and even more importantly to the population at large, ways to try and make its existence as pleasant as possible. After all, art will always have some place in society, no matter what form it takes.
Before we go any further, let's actually set down some basis for what we mean when we use the term "Graffiti". For the majority of people who use the term, it will take the form of the general definition, as follows: ".. the illegal or unauthorized defacing of a b
in betweenlook, a wise someone once said,in between8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
between the pages 52 and 53
and there you will find
fulfillment, light as the collision of stars
I don't know why, either
but regret is not a pretty thing
to lay out like dried roses
inside the winter of your thicker books
press a sheet worn and soft to your cheek
words leaking from your eyes
an o for your mouth when you went: aaaah
and the indentation of strawberry from
your front teeth, a little too far front
and that's it
nothing else that bright
doesn't it hurt, to
want something that badly?
the sour feeling escaping
up your ribcage and festering in your throat
we didn't just wake up today and dial a number
that fifty pages had fluttered by
and all you get is page 51 on the left,
52 on your right.
Winter Blues HaikusIWinter Blues Haikus9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Drunken snowflake dance,
stagger around the street light.
Someone call a cab
The cold air's biting
not like a crocodile
more like a puppy
Carve the silver lake
with graceful figure 8's
humble ice skater
Sub Zero wind chill-
snot freezes inside nostrils
hot air can't escape
Wave your arms and legs
give birth to a snow angel
then watch it ascend
Droopy carrot nose-
Melted snowmen have no pride.
The sun's a killer.
Goose bumps are moguls
and I will ski your body-
Lonely lost mitten
resting by the curb in snow
hanging from the roof,
Icicles are winter's teeth
Come tooth fairy, come.
-truth-will you meet me in the spaces-truth-8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
between our fingers
indivisible, but one
(and all the smaller pieces
that don't matter)
a hollow note
twenty minutes to dawn
(i know this because we've been here before)
in this moment, and this thing of arms and arms entwined, called embrace
this moment on soft notsosoft ground sheets
it's the same
and in this moment
this moment is again
and your voices
singing as the past
ceilings and walls
that do not house me
anymore, i hear you
you are farther away
when i am with you
than when we are
so far apart
i do not have a traditional clock
that could tick away the night
in even tones
to focus on
when i'm trying my hardest not to be awake
i only have digitalisations left
Opportunity-8.FebruaryOpportunity-8.February11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the texture of my missed sunrise
wrapped in amber arms and a smirk
fluxing in the newborn light:
I'd've flung myself in arms that begged to hold me
if I'd known they were there
I'm staring into your distance, someone
singing in my buttoned ears
—chops for my cubical existence
there's cement beneath us in springtime, still cold
to the touch of jean-clad cheeks,
this tank top rag doll
folded into your lanky figure,
patient for day
I'm trapped, sometimes,
in fleeting shadows—moments that shouldn't feel
like midwinter sun taunting,
tangling the air, hair
falling in your solstice eyes,
but they do
Black BirdI've told you I'm staying in tonight,Black Bird10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you, as usual, haven't listened.
Negligent out of pain, perhaps
a thorn lifted off some nightmare
flower. You ask me to remove it,
have tried a shower. I'm thinking
if the water can't free it, how will I?
Besides, I've seen a bird, which,
as it starts to trill, suggests were I
such a thing, I'd rather be dumb.
Still, my not singing like a bird,
does it mean you can't call me one?
Again, you're not listening. And
it's flown off now into that gloom
where everything feels heavier,
but I don't suppose is. It presses
like the sloping walls of a Gallic
town, spied from an odd angle.
Girl Alarm ClockGirl Alarm Clock12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the sun sets unasked
and rises again without the
But I do not
girl alarm clock
timed in the heat of dreams
that make moan and flutter
quiver of over-warm flesh
smooth inseam of thigh
wake me in the morning
she just barely breathes
pull at her eye strings
make short lashes quiver
a back that reaches for me
while fingers fetal curl
towards the face
and her lips twitch
on hot mornings
I watch her naked sleep
buckled down, babybuckled down, baby10 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.
you can pretend it's...she speaksyou can pretend it's...9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that once-in-a-while way
familiar to earthquakes
and the end
when she's alone
shake (alone with her)
she's buried in the bottle
you can bury me in boston
wide-eyed and wondering
this same sky comes crashing
won't claim I wasn't warned
about hanging stars from expectations
second nature embarrassment and
first nature proceed anyhow
I'm still reaching
but she's on the other side
love letterslove letters9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
somebody once told me
'people want to be saved by people too busy saving themselves'
i think they were wrong,
people are too busy saving others to notice themselves --
shut in restroom stalls and hanging signs on doors.
they are not sleeping, but trying
to crawl back home.
i didnt love you when we first met, i was just weighing candy
in a paper bag. you dropped seven coins on the floor.
i watched you pick them up. we're stuck in a queue
for fatter arteries and shredded skin.
there's a movie i want to see, if we could get out of town,
all we need is a bit of fuel to pass our tongues,
i wanted to turn on the pumps with my teeth
but a hosepipe ban said we should close up
our wounds. protect the sun from licking pink flesh.
we did, but i drowned anyway,
from the inside - out.
five year plan -
1) wait at the bus stop.
2) drink down disinfectant hard until our skin peels like potatos
and our joints turn supple after a couple more shots.
3) wipe salvia from mouths, do NOT look in
LonerThe street lamps pop on.Loner10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She sits on the corner,
Watching as the people pass her by.
Her big pleading eyes staring at each one,
Asking nothing and everything from them.
She says she wants to be alone
Says she doesn't need them,
Says she's a loner.
But she's not happy.
Deep down she needs some one
Someone to cling to
Someone to hold her close,
Tell her things will be alright
Be with her through all those times.
She feels like she's dead,
That she's invisible.
She is a person, yet
Always feels like a ghostly witness
Just standing and watching
As the world goes by.
She is a delicate rose…
And although hidden by shadow
When the moon shines upon her,
She is beautiful.
view from 20view from 209 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I was picking dandelions from next doors backyard and thinking
love is not just Luke-warm organs grinding together,
or having somebody at the other end of a telephone line
approximately sixty nine percent of the time,
or lottery tickets and movie screens with a ring on a forth finger.
Love is a gasping-for-breath twenty thousand foot freefall,
or 120miles per hour on the motorway and four hours on an airplane
to see your smile, with my chest ripped open and neck cracking
more than usual. Love is hands on face on lips on cheeks,
love is on the inside of our eyelids, on the inside of our veins,
we can't dig deep enough to get at it with silver tea spoons
and kitchen knifes on our own.
Love is discovery, love is kissing head-tops, love is shovelling out black heart cells
and licking them clean. It's stomping on my toes with a nudge stick in its hands and a squeal in its voice
saying - stop avoiding, stop the excuses, and for God's sake, stop being scared.
Then love laughs and pretends to
take me...when this gets outtake me...9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
its going to be the end of us
I'm in love with your insides
but the package is perfect too
so much so
that sometimes I forget to breathe
it's not waxing poetic
it's a growing
when this gets out
its going to be the end of us
curb dancingcurb dancing9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I wore a watch that did not belong to me
and held two fingers to my voice box,
you almost did the same.
Today my words are just left hand turns,
I write like this is the last time
our pulses will be half hoped-for dreams.
This internal bleeding is like raised eyebrows
that I want to stamp down with a blistered foot.
Your were chewing an umbilical chord
as if you had no life left, you promised to die today
on a death bed that used to be mine;
you were afraid of tubes and sirens.
I wanted to say things like --
'life is not always a black skin-suit
with its zipper caught in your hurried truth,
I wanted to put on surgical gloves, say --
'do not be scared of needles'
reach beyond pore-level and tug all this out.
But I could not.
I feel like this too, in the folds of my skin
I feel like this too, in the blemishes on my chin
it is more than this, we know
each other well.
Another Road Songfor ashAnother Road Song9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
For a given value of love, this
is your song –
Let's run away.
I have bags, a ticket,
sex on my tongue, 8
new ways to say
I don't mind I can't
ever go home.
I don't mind, for a given value
of love, I can't ever go home.
Let's walk on the sun.
Heard a song once, said
it can be done and I don't
trust those stoners but I'd
walk across coals for God,
God makes the sun flowers, so
for a given value of hot,
I'd say you're the one.
The Ghost and The DarknessScared Little HumanThe Ghost and The Darkness8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
(They're after your flesh)
(They've got your scent)
(They smell your blood)
(They know where your hiding)
(They're dragging your body)
(They're tearing your flesh)
(They're crunching your bones)
(Please don't eat me)
Glowing Red Eyes
(Our prey is insurgent)
(Defiling our land)
(Take back what is ours)
(We rule this land)
(You had no right)
(Go back to where you came)
(Don't ever come back)
(Or we'll slaughter you all)
Once Peaceful Plains
(Torn by carnage)
(More dangerous each day)
(Blame the vile intruders)
(Who made this they're stay)
(Our plains great gaurdians)
into the seaI have tugged hands into the darkness.into the sea9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
under the guise of jest
I watched you become
accustomed to shadows
and the vague smoldering of lamplight
some time between
vowing silence and begging to be heard
I grew afraid to love--
an oak forgetful of
the acorn in the dirt
but I've never doubted why
I gripped your hand as
you stood at the delta
watching everything split apart.
The Lullaby for GrievingI can carry youThe Lullaby for Grieving9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in a small box
in a moment like this
in a small box
in a moment
I can carry you in my palms
I can carry you in my palms
I can carry you
in a small box
and a moment
Space and room. The earth
is deep, the water vast
and fire takes home.
We live in the air, like fish
with feet, we walk on sand
and there is only one way up
for us. If only there were choices
if the dance moved like molecules,
all the dead would be electrons
lined up in ranks
to skin through
air, water, fire, dirt.
They say we are of one earth
but there is only bone and flesh
on me so make room for another,
make space in the aether
till the cells learn to align.
There is old age in your bones, love.
I can see where your back is bent.
On these days when you are axis mundi
to the turning of the sky, I stalk
the edges. Twenty-three points
I've drawn around you where all
your lovers drew them before and I can see
the age in your bones. Love: seven skies
weigh heavy and you are
hit the alarmhit the alarm9 years ago in Open More Like This
For six years I lived in supermarket doorways
and threw up dry soil. I could have died
I should have
not lied. I have not been to logic class
for three weeks, our task is to determine
consistency. Pen lids can not stop ink
unwinding downstairs, expanding
into last year
where a father opens his fingers
and touches cake wrappers.
He tied a dog chain around his child's neck
for all the stories she told and dirty plates she left
by the cream sofa, then he said goodnight to his wife
with chemical lips
thirty eight minutes later.
This is the room where trees die
and mathematics are always wrong. I make jokes
about the zeros on the wall and try to add them up
before they slip through the gaps in my throat.
I cannot stop them. When I was five
my best friend had legs like breadsticks, she went shopping
with her mother every weekend while mine pushed hoovers
and prescription drugs
into her palms.
I love her through time machines
My cousin ate yoghurt in a caravan
and always washed the d
Painting AnarchyPainting Anarchy10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A neighborhood, behind a gate
Stays perfect in its silent state
Bleached clean with the newest Tide
Where hatreds lurk, and grudges hide
Nicely built, and nicely spaced
Every house is copy-paste
Stand in the street, and turn around
You see the same house pasted down
The houses like a famous smile
White and clean, in rank and file
The street ends in a cul de sac
The asphalt all is perfect black
And if you take a little walk
Just down to the other block
A different place, and different name
But the place still looks the same
Right now things are rather good
In this humble neighborhood
Because these folks are out of touch
None of them talk very much
And way up high, almost a shrine
A giant, bright, and blinking sign
Cleans the streets with glowing light
Even darkness can be white
And through the dark, and coldest nights
The glowing sign reads "lowside heights"
A quiet place, both calm and meek
But one day it became unique
Hiding from the sign's white light
Someone sneaky in the night
attention. please.you said there'sattention. please.9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you'd rather be
should I have stopped to think on that
but my breath was caught
and I was busy in the back of your throat
pushing past words we spoke
expecting my own exhalation
had I only suspected those sighs weren't mine
paid proper interest to insides
instead of insisting that sunset & sunrise
were practically proof of perpetual motion
I'm all worn out on warnings
and waiting on best wishes
head full of preferred perspective
but your mind's still making up
only means it's time to flip that
why just waste time
when we could be wasting each others?