coldnights were spent in dreary talkcold9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and watered-down affection
coupled with silent sex
(a personal blow-up doll)
he was supposed to solve her problems
too bad he didn't realize
for all his jesus complex,
he couldn't save her...
tomorrow, she'd be gone
finally, away from men and memories
drink in hand,
she curls up in herself
she'd tell him tomorrow,
maybe a note on the door
OriginalsOriginalsOriginals9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The conch's twist holds
an old world. Just beyond the glossy rim
where the shell curves out of sight
a half-full bottle plunges
into the sea. The green glass
has no end, its sides spreading
light like a coloured lens. But this ocean
is a dark edge, as if eyes had never lifted
its hard dermis. A wave curls
and becomes icecream in a turqouise bowl. You
are here, looking through spirals at someone else
who is you. The bowl empties
and a cold signifier stings the skull.
This time it is no echo
of the sea's thousandfoot rush, or the tang
of stale salt inhaled from a pinkwhite lip. This time
you are there. The icecream is just as cold, the glass
of beer bottles still shedding jade. But this could be
any beach. And now it matters
that you cannot swim.
the great leap forwardthe great leap forward5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wu xian shen
my father threshes
the thin green grass,
sets it aflame.
our mother gathers
the cinders, mixes
a meal into grey.
here, a dish born
of a dying garden
my brother is the first
to eat he does not die
so we follow,
joking about the smoked spice,
laughing until our tummies hurt:
after the other.
we huddle around the shithole,
our faces wrung like rags
father leaves as we enter
On drinking beer aloneOn drinking beer alone4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Take its mouth like a conch,
portal to a violent sea,
and let its tongue slip
over yours. Hear
it storm against your teeth,
swallow. Do not care
if it is French or not.
We are sommeliers
of a lower order.
Anxiety sinks, thought
fumbles for a raft. Stop.
Remember you are bored.
Worry not: you have half
a case and yourself.
You smile and touch your lip,
drop your eyes to the bottle:
empty as the man
who left you here
Mandelbrot.Mandelbrot3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
We sit in the corner of the window, watch the girl loving the boy. He traces the lower hem of her shirt, brings his lips to her head. I press against the glass. Hear.
Young men, choose the dew of women
whose lunatic cruelty to which
only your violence and love can retort,
not the dead ink of pen murderers.
They face one other, noses almost touching. You imagine this close, she can only focus on one of his eyes. Will it matter which one?
The Rampart of Twigs, I say.
He rests his head in the crook of her neck. My ear is cold against the window.
You ask, How does it end?
Be swift muscular fish, keep to the rapids.
He might as well invoke the god of flagella.
We watch him kiss her collarbone.
Scapula, you say and tug on my ear.
Let us love in silence.
The clock ticks in the corner. He rests his head on her chest, his lungs roughly in sync. She looks down at him and parts his hair.
How are we going to end?
I don't know.
Death by earthquake? Mang
lost on bay streetlost on bay street5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
man with a golf club,
where are you going?
have you a message to chip
into a trader's skull?
do you drive into traffic
from your penthouse range?
you walk with purpose:
are you getting chai?
man in the window,
what do you see?
the interns in pencil skirts
the old tourists dragging
their eyes on the ground,
to where they are going.
why don't you?
A tua surpresa- Às vezes gostava de conseguir sacar alguma palavra aqui de dentro, que te conseguisse fazer ver o que sinto.A tua surpresa8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
- Achas que eu não percebo? - com um gesto rápido puxou-lhe o cabelo para trás da orelha.
- Porque se não te consigo explicar, como é que podes saber? Tenho a certeza que não sentes o mesmo.
Mordo o lábio devagarinho, para que percebas que esta não é só mais uma conversa daquelas que temos às vezes, quando o Inverno chega.
- Pensei que estivesses a falar do amor, de como gostas que eu te convide para passares estes dias comigo. Isso eu compreendo. Mas agora confundiste-me, o que é que sentes e não consegues dizer?
- Se não consigo dizer...
- Não te conheço assim tão fria.
- Não me chames fria. Não é como se eu estivesse a fazer de propósito, tu sabes que às vezes não dá mais.
- O que é que queres dizer? Não dá
Written For Him - Gravitation"He loved him more than anything. He felt the desire to have their lips meet, to kiss away the anguish from the boy's tired, silken skin, and to make love to him."Written For Him - Gravitation8 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
WRITTEN FOR HIM</i>
Shuichi stared at the pages of the book in front of him.
"Looking at the boy made the man feel weak in the knees. His heart pounded at the very sight of him."
This was Eiri Yuki's latest novel, one that had begun to spark controversy with the public, for it was a romance novel that involved two males.
Shuichi had been the first to buy the book. He craved anything that had come from Yuki's mind, because at the moment, his blonde lover wasn't speaking to him. Something had happened, and he had stopped coming to visit, stopped calling, stopped communicating with Shuichi completely.
Was he mad? Did he need a break? Did he stop caring? Shuichi couldn't stop asking himself these questions. Just when he felt that he and Yuki were finally growing closer to each other, the blonde had fallen
what a wonderful worldwhat a wonderful world6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
was it louis armstrongs raspy voice
or your elegant anatomy scratching
record grooves into my vinyl spine?
my left hand, a nervous needle
twittering upon the wasteland;
my tongue skipping zigzags
across your conversation.
did you dance because it was
somebodys wedding, tell me
this song was your favorite
because we trundled like freight
trains, say my hair looked nice
because it wasn't?
still, i felt electric.
now why is it i think
of you nineteen years later,
bated breath in bathwater?
i dont know where you are, who
youve loved, the children youve lost,
or the gods youve won.
you are useless to me, an unplugged radio:
for i cannot hear our song's humbug
but it also meansIt's mundane,but it also means8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the soda aisle
and my wandering, walking up
then down. I frown to distract.
And buy the soda you love
because you might, you
might be here to have it. Though
with I need a drink.
I don't need a drink.
The same strength, faux-weak
ness that I will always have,
and tell myself I learned from you.
I buy it, afraid I won't like the taste,
or maybe I will and it'll be there
for a few days squishing along inside me.
It's just fucking soda, but it also means
I still love you.
Stain"Poetry about the snow"Stain9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
That's what you think, my conceptual 'Romeo'?
Like a stage has been set for our abstract talk show,
We wander soaking our skin in the city's syrupy glow.
The splinters of streetlight were stitches on scars,
In this pavement garden, with porcelain stars -
My lips launched bullets so brilliantly bitter,
Your tongue tangled them gently in gold till they glittered.
"Poetry about the snow"
That's what he said, with his grin like an undertow.
And his voice like the ice melting much too slow,
On a night clinging close as the curves on a phantom pillow.
More heavy than honey this hunger for clarity,
In a combustible paradise, conflicting polarities -
You're not smooth with that smug little smirk on your lips,
But I'm feeling your philosophical flavor like flesh underneath fingertips.
"Poetry about the snow"
That's what I saw, between neon and indigo.
A mind and a mouth and a metaphysical flow,
That can match my verbal violence blow for blow.
Our chemistry copasetic; com
clocks are so last season, hunyou tuck your heartclocks are so last season, hun5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
under your sleeve,
under a wristwatch
from World War I
the one passed down
you pretend love doesn't exist;
and even if it did, you're immune
to the power of emotion.
your impeccable knowledge says:
love is sundry chemicals in your brain,
it can't hurt you because it's imaginary
and you're so damn smart,
you didn't even need to look
sundry up in the dictionary&
you're so damn smart,
you didn't even need to look
at me to make me fall
(that's the sound of my liver falling down a flight of escalators)
you wear your watch over your heart,
so when people ask you the time,
you can tell them it doesn't work,
because communication f
This FoolThis Fool9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I didn't know where I was headed until I,
Woke up this morning.
I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and I,
Read the classified section.
I didn't know who I wanted to be until I,
Walked outside and saw the blue sky and the white clouds and I realized..
I don't want to be anybody but me,
I love the way I smile, I love the way I steadily breathe.
My hair is knots and so is my stomach,
But I'd rather be this fool.
Sometimes I'm a mess and I feel like I'm being chased by my past,
I just hold my head and wonder how long these feelings will last.
And there are times when I am a lost cause--a deer struck by an angry car,
Broken bathroom tiles, an eviction notice, a forgotten rock star, but..
I don't want to be anybody but me,
I love the way I laugh, I like the way I fall.
My steps are without confidence and so is my heart,
But I'd rather be this fool.
Everything in life changes--no matter what, this much is true,
The sun goes down, the moon comes up, the sun goes down,
the soccer game.the thing is, i needthe soccer game.4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
the deer to mean something.
i go to the soccer game and smile
and nod while something furious
inside of me is screaming.
a deer appears while the sun
is setting and it's like a scene
from a movie: green grass and gold rays
that spread out, tingeing our feet
with one last bit of wednesday.
everyone watches the deer and makes
noises of appreciation and i look
around and i think to myself
"okay, this is it, i am happy."
the deer is watching me and i try
to decide if it's a metaphor.
i want the deer to be death, see,
to represent fucking or blacking
out or apathy or loneliness.
someone does something heroic
with a soccer ball and i watch
my hands clap together over and over.
okay, or maybe the deer is supposed
to be happy. maybe the deer
represents attending social
events and sitting with people.
maybe the deer means that
i'm ready to let go.
the girl beside me looks over
and asks if i've written any poems
lately. (that's all she knows of me,
that i write poems and
InsecuritiesWhy would you want to love me? I don't understand;Insecurities7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I have nothing to offer, nothing to give--
There will always be someone else; someone better
Who has all I have but can do so much more
While I sit back, looking through my picture window,
Out at the world.
What makes me so different? I don't think you see,
ConfusionConfusion11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Im going around again
In these circles
Of suicide and lust
Im going around in circles
Circles I cant ignore
Theyre taking me faster than I should ever go
So I can see no more why ...
Ive forgotten why you love me
And Ive forgotten love itself
And I wish I could shut up the telephone
Ringing in my ears
Something I cant ignore
These circles of suicide
And ill-fated virginity
Swim around my spirals
Of love too far my senior
Shut the doors of options
For behind numbers
1, 2, and 3
theres nothing for me
but forgotten chastity
virginity; dead to me
just some romanced lost virginity
Two weeks gone by, the doors all closed
Two weeks gone by of
but somewhere beyond the calm surface
are oceans rippling with fear
and I know it when I look in your eyes
I can see you spinning
I can see you spiraling out of control
and youre reaching f
DensityTell me, lover, how the flooded sky peals the soul's vengeance,Density9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the churning of autumn and echoing footfalls on the stairwell
with dusk tasting like our kisses in their eager, sanguine
Fearful of depths, I fled your embrace to fall swooning,
each glance a brush of laden finishing, a heart-heresy.
Yesterday I sealed the last box, wiping my brow and wearing
those sage, harried conversations
as only a crushed kite with torn webbing can muster
in the face of distance.
Now, when I smile at you, there are only waves ebbing
across sandbars and our twilights.
The prayer CicadaThe prayer CicadaThe prayer Cicada5 years ago in Nature More Like This
their sound the roaring tumble of an airplane,
yelping a nascent cry of living...
soon the motor drone will cease cicada,
your moss-green intonation,
burrowed into the syntax of the Buddhist's haiku
and the southerner's humid laboring atop
sun baked bricks,
your harmonics that thumbed their way
into the neighborhood's ears,
like wave dolloped shores whooshing a
stream of consciousness, subtle
as the intake of breath or even less perceptible,
like a thought, will be filled by crickets and car alarms
and gloomy maniac screams, imperfect silence is the night
when you depart cicada.
autumn's care-worn smile kills the leaves, in a month,
but you wont live to see tomorrow. the sky goes black to grey, lethal like gunmetal,
and lightning crisps the trees, your homes! but that is the future,
in the storm,
where I will haunt your brothers,
asking,what can you teach me?
cicada you are alive so brief,
how can you be said to have lived at all.
yet you rumble, thrilling i
A Secrecy of Love-Chapter TwoChapter TwoA Secrecy of Love-Chapter Two8 years ago in General More Like This
Lunch was an hour away. Slowly, I headed towards my fifth hour class which was Drama. Drama class was not one that was required, but I chose it because it counted as a reading credit. Personally, I would much rather act out the play "Romeo and Juliet", which is what the class was famous for, than read boring stories and correct grammar errors. The hallways of the building was always hectic with students walking in their own pace, which tends to get quite annoying if you're in a hurry.
"Melissa, wait up!" Another friend called out to me and by the tone of her voice, I knew it was Mina. Mina was a very attractive girl, I met her a few years back when I needed a partner in one of my classes. Unfortunately, she isn't one of my best friends, but she does come close. We love to joke around and merely act like the teens we are. She has amazing blond hair that feels like silk to the touch, her eyes are a sparkling blue which black eye line
When I Have FeltWhen evening soaks the sky and puts on dampWhen I Have Felt12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The sun, that molten bead of paint, darkened now
And watered down --
When stars are piled thick
And stirred on high-borne vapours, paling then
The upper verge --
When starlings flock in screws,
All sprinting, mirrored over cold-sourced brooks,
With each their cry --
When under twilit water,
Through shaft-lit verdure fish propel, gleening
In silvered schools --
No pain at all... Abril era o nosso mês porque adoravas que chovesse para de seguida veres abrir o céu e eu adorava ver-te encostar a testa à janela e sorrir. Quando eu acordava já os teus olhos seguiam as gotas da chuva e eu nem me importava que não me tivesses acordado com os teus beijos doces. Aproximava-me e tu agarravas as minhas mãos, sussurrando um bom dia ao ouvido.No pain at all...8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Era tão bom sentir-te perto, era tão bom saber que por um dia ou dois eras meu e não tínhamos que nos preocupar com nada. Abril éramos sempre nós e a chuva a cair a cair. Ao fim da tarde quando o sol iluminava as folhas íamos dar o nosso passeio, comprar os teus jornais e tirar as fotografias de que eu gostava tanto. Brincávamos com os velhinhos sentados em bancos de jardins, e tu perguntavas-me se te ia amar sempre assim, tal como eles amam os pássaros. E eu dizia claro que sim, claro que ia, claro que era para
The End of A Wandering HeartSpellbound yet twisted amongst the stars;The End of A Wandering Heart7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Branches curved away,I sink to glance up
Upon a knoll, under the tree of dreams,
Yet the wind whispers: never what it seems.
Lost to the night unspoken drifts,
The further apart to another place.
Don't let go, I hear them say
Yet I walk the distance another way.
Though the stars twinkle, they never speak
Shaded away, yet still seeking their gaze,
Who knows what dangers lurk? I hide away,
In the shadows, I currently remain.
Don't find me, but secretly I hope,
A helping hand will be found.
And so I search even though I say no