InertiaSometimes, I feel so very sorry for
the letters that I write.
Born onto a blank page and
trapped there all their lives.
No new sites to see, no unfamiliar faces to meet;
standing in a lonely row
just to express my thoughts as words,
and yet, completely unable to express their own.
They lie paralyzed in their birthplace
lacking the ability to grow and learn.
Immovable to change for the rest of their lives.
And sometimes, I wonder to myself,
why I choose to be the same.
Human Nature When you are young,Human Nature3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
they will treat you with the softness of spring.
They will guide you through the winter winds and
over snowy hills, admiring the brilliance of your
midday innocence; pulling daisies from the earth
just to place them in your hair. And they will
whisper to each other of how beautiful you are.
When you grow older,
they will treat you with the indifferences of autumn.
They will urge you from the complacency of your own
fleeting fulfillments, and they will watch your
brilliance fade with the swiftness of the sky. You
will shed your fragile childhood with the colors of
the trees, and you will learn to face the winter winds
without their guiding arms. And they will whisper to
each other of how beautiful you are.
When you are grown,
they will treat you with the coldness of winter. They
will leave you bare and naked before the ravenous wolves,
expecting you to fend for your own forgotten brilliance,
asking why you've kept those wilting daisies in your hair.
DebussyRestless under theDebussy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
dreams quiver like
a long-lost muse.
Messsage in a bottleSometimes people cry out for help,Messsage in a bottle3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
I think we all have witnessed it,
We watch them break,
We watch their tears,
And we see something in their eyes,
The last piece of hope,
The hope that as well could be a message in a bottle.
Who will ever know if someone noticed that tiny little bottle in the ocean,
Or if they did,
Did they pick it up?
I have seen a lot of bottles in my time,
And most of the time I pick them up,
But I notice quite a few times I don´t,
It is like they become invisible,
Even if they scream loudly right in front of you,
I think something is wrong,
Why do we leave the bottle in the ocean?
I clearly can see they need help,
And I see it,
I really do,
How can you pretend not to?
the beauty's in the leavingRead aloud here.the beauty's in the leaving3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sweetheart, let's head out. let's
drink up the desert asphalt and that last bottle
of johnny walker blue--
one last toast to the copper sunsets,
to the good earth. a pair of
tailgate stargazers, you and i:
roaming curves across the glove compartment map, until
every foldline is worn flannel-soft
and it'd rather stay open
let's forget route sixty-six. let's forget
and pick up terra cotta dust--
breathe in the mojave. let's pretend
that the world's already ended
and it's just us.
let's leave the door unlocked
Clichedoes your poetry consist ofCliche2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
feelings nestled in ribcages
silent cries inside of a marrow
and the dull thunk of your heart
against my barely beating bones?
or is your poetry nestled in galaxies
shooting across well-kept fingertips
like comets lighting a dull sky
stardust of my hip bone wishes
literature universe coming to an end?
can your poetry play imagination
like a clever twist in a dream
where you kiss my shadows away
and teach me how to caress you
with love that burns passion away?
are you smitten enough to
run away with me
or are you yet to be blanketed
by these heavy arms of mine?
do my words weigh you down?
i havent met one so easily drowned
by the vast sea of my sunkissed letters
but as your velvet lips whispered,
always is there a first.
.when her love left, it left.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the house empty
and she says
i hope one day it'll
come back to me,
cos i don't keep this shotgun
on my front porch for nothin'
Alone in this world.Are you okay?Alone in this world.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Yes, I am.
Are you afraid?
Yes, I am.
Will you ever be afraid of nothing?
Will you ever be completely happy?
Someday all your feelings will stop roughing
All of them are becoming scrappy.
Being okay is not what it seems
"okay" is a word of sloth
it may be a word of dreams
but mostly it's a word of both.
Sadness and reclusion.
ApsaraFind me sunken into theApsara3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lotus field, bathing skin silvergreen,
waist-deep and pink
in sunset, and we will cry:
for three-faced elephants,
for the dancers threading grace
between their fingertips—
until I dress in the heaviness,
a sarong of heat.
ElsewhereNights like these I stay awake watching glass shardsElsewhere3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
shine in heaven-light, and my mother says that I should go, Elsewhere.
Rain doesn't stop for the little losts—underwater at one o'clock;
still the streetlights blaze like midnight suns, and whale song drifts
past parked cars.
Nights like these I am waterlogged, wandering, and I don't find
Atlantis just a sofa downtown where the whale lovesongs are raindrop-borne,
slipping through the window and dripping onto hands. I remind myself I am
only alone, though missing—the weight of my cat on my feet and my
sister's soft sleeping.
IcarusFledgling of theIcarus3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(dawn is quiet
when the noose is
PeonyAlone, but forPeony3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the red boots marching
cathedral heart: I
am beating echoes
in this city of the
stepping little girl's
dreams, I visit mama
in the night; but
flowers and wine won't
pay for her light.
aphroditeclambering lips tumble over each other likeaphrodite3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
little deer stumbling into the headlights, where
blushing cupid's bows snap shut at the slightest
whisper of a touch; as summer's broken blossom
whistles into moss, suicidal and free-falling at a
twist of the wind, dripping through honeyed-hands and
trickling down wrists. words nuzzle breath, the air
staved of acoustics that choreograph faces closer; watching as
quivering eyes thrust new-born hope, where
restless hearts knock beneath a web of ribs,
screaming silently as bodies are poured into the
stitches of aphrodite's venomo(us) fly-trap.
001 i am a whirlwind of0013 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
an aching heart
a regret that could
I'm Fine"Are you okay?"I'm Fine3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That's all they say.
And I leave behind
These words in my mind.
I'm broken, I'm dying.
Inside, I'm crying.
There are wounds beneath my skin.
There are trials I face within.
There are things I just can't say.
There are people I must betray.
Beneath a smile, I feel pain.
Behind the sun, there's always a little rain.
And beneath these words I hold in my head...
There's always the thing I say instead.
I leave the truth behind..
So when they say, "are you okay?"
I always say, "I'm fine."
ways i have been worni. mistsways i have been worn3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like a vapor.
a wisp about a finger
like cosmic debts.
like a drought.
the rush for everpresent
of desperate haste.
like a flood.
a tide without a valid
of a crush immense.
like the first.
a taste of infinity's
by a depth unmet.
like the vast.
the promise of intertwined
beyond history's test.
Thoughts of you.I could not think back to the time you looked in my eyes. You directly looked into my soul. Your soul embraced my soul.Thoughts of you.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your smile embraced my body. I felt the warmth of your glance. And all I ever wanted was to feel your kiss. To feel your soft lips on mine.
Your hugs, your touches, the goosebumps on my skin.
And then I realized you were imaginary.
barcelona is burningi owe you an apology-barcelona is burning3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
you, in the crowd,
the one panicking about reading
or the mess at home
or the sheer volume of people
pressing into you like corners;
the woman who birthed me into this world
through hours of agony
as though that wasn't enough
because doctor appointment after therapy appointment after residential stay after thirtieth pound lost,
i've put you through countless
warped into months of agony
you never asked for;
and you, oh, mostly you.
you, because as hard as i've beaten my own heart into the wall,
and as deep as i let you bury mine,
i know, somehow, i managed to do the same to you.
you left, and i left two weeks after.
every night was a terror;
every morning was a letdown.
i ached constantly
and threw myself into books
like they would become oxygen masks until i could breathe on my own again.
and here's the thing, you know,
because you would knock my legs out from under me again and again.
"let's fall back in love," you'd say,
and i would fall to
Con AmoreCicada violinists,Con Amore3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and champagne flutes
an autumn concerto.
Of BlissKissing daffodils sway,Of Bliss3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
serenaded by the waver of
faces blushing bright
as the sunlight
wishbones and flowers I think it’s selfishwishbones and flowers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how I have compared
every other kiss
( After all-
good things don’t
invite themselves into the lives
of little girls who categorize
their disorders by the scars
on their wrists and who
allow strangers to hang them
from their necks like wishbones. )
But, no one’s hands
have ever staked claim
to this scavenged wasteland
not even my own.
And it’s hard to forget that;
please forgive me.
As you will always
be the one who taught me
that it’s okay to be sad.
with thanks to salingerAudio version.with thanks to salinger3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it's on those cold mornings
when you are nothing but indrawn breath
swirling and knitted up inside too-big
skin and weightless bones--
when the horizon arches up against
the half-thawed tendrils of sunrise
with golden teeth,
and smiling, begs--
it's on those cold mornings
when leaving is easiest.
the car will be cold, and you will
shiver, and the engine,
much too loud,
will smack of blasphemy
but you will find peace in the steady roll
of tarmac and the yellowing light
spilling across it,
with dust motes kicked up and carried
like fish in the undertow.
when you come to that first
crossroads, it will shock you:
the way the decision hangs there
trembling and desperate--
but there are no right answers and you will not
hesitate. and each successive choice
will be made of its own accord,
and you will roll the windows down,
and draw down the scent of ear
I want to forget names,& faces,I want to forget names,3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I want to forget their veins,
fingerprints forever burned into my eyelids;
wrists I can't look at
without longing to tear apart.
Spine full, and spiteful:
I want to cry
roses in my midnight tea
for these star collapsed lungs.
I want to cry for her
& for me.
she wont allow me the courtesy.
the girl who is not mesometimes i picture you with a girl who is not me.the girl who is not me3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
i imagine the entire slow tragedy in my mind, a girl who once possessed a younger you and drew you to picturing her face behind your eyelids. cybernetic courting and laughing in the dark, whispering against her lips, touching her smooth face with your fingertips. i imagine how you may have loved her.
i wonder if it all happened too quickly and your fall for her was abrasive, thorny, frightening, curling your stomach. maybe your eyelashes scraped apart across the tight-knit fabric of your pillowcase on a morning and you thought against the glare of the seven a.m. sun, i know now, i love her. did you fall in love with her in the warm comfort of balmy summer evenings exploding with sound, sit next to her on damp grass with right hand locked around left wrist, knees against your inner elbows? did it happen in winter, her cheeks flushed and her chin tucked demurely into a brightly colored scarf, her hair whipping around her head, the