i'm not an artistwe do not belong in boxes
and bags and books or
and we do not sit contently
in wordsworth and shakespeare
and blake, burns, and brownings
or in the cold stiff bones
of raleigh's of long ago;
detect, and re-select
a virus--a disease,
a germ in every verse and line;
the first signs of
foolish waitings under
bridges and scolding parents
and nothing to signify at all
we are the blood of nations
and the heart of men
and the love of every
rhetorist and sentimist
we dance through the ballrooms of
the age and chat with
we shake hands with heros
and the homeless, dirty
type that gum over 'hello's
we are and aren't and will be
silly verse and
naive philosophers and sweet oxymorons
waving hello from the shore;
forever onward and never ending
like the stars in an
when writers cryAwake on strong, black coffee drinkswhen writers cry2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Words on paper, liquid ink
Dreams of pen tips, future lies
Tragic stories, quotes of the wise
Nights have carved their dark, deep valleys
In the hollows of my eyes
For you see, my friend, when writers cry
There are no tears, their cheeks are dry
But ink dipped fingers, worn out wrists
Chewed up nails and bloody fists
You see, it's strange when writers cry
Their hearts are true, their words don’t lie
They mourn in silence for a few days
Of paper cuts and tear-less haze
Of coffee mugs and smoky paper
Liquid spills, and water vapor
Sorry dreams and wasted hours
Putrid smells and dying flowers
(Torn to pieces from inside
Tears are hidden by our pride)
A lion among sheep.There are ghosts in my bloodstreamA lion among sheep.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
kissing concrete cells &
the bedroom eyes of nerve endings.
( foreign words
engraved into my marrow, birds in my chest
& wars not yet fought between my hips. )
I've taken myself apart every night
since I learned how to swallow a pen
limb by steady limb.
Passed around by grabby hands,
a sold, & borrowed daughter;
I am a lion among sheep,
drunk on life & ink.
GrowthI remember the day I caught him 'gardening'. His cheeks stained cherry with the brisk wind that trotted beside him up and down the smothered garden path. He dropped a seed as his feet brushed past each other. Up and down he walked, a solemn lieutenant. I asked him what he was doing and those wide sky eyes reflected the ice as he told me he was trying to grow flowers for his mother. I looked at the seeds spilt on the snow and told him that they could never grow in these circumstances. I will never forget the clench in my heart when he responded, with a child's tongue; "I know".Growth2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The Little Girl BlinkedThe little girl blinked and he was goneThe Little Girl Blinked2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Unsure if he was ever really there
But she knew that something had inspired her
To do things she wouldn’t normally dare
A teardrop too many he once told her
Had brought him from the shadows of her mind
As those around her began to wander
Across her imagination's fine line
But now he seemed to have walked away
As she found the life she had long sought
He slowly drifted back to the shadows
From her notebook and her beautiful thoughts
And the fools around her carried the spades
Burying him with her imagination
With an epitaph etched on a tombstone
‘Here lies my potential for creation’
Though he never existed beyond her thoughts
He was as real as a chrysalis on a tree
The butterfly perhaps was her freedom
The caterpillar was her memories
But she still sees his face in the reflection
Of her brown eyes in the cracked mirror
Knowing that he is alive and well
And is always going to be with her
People never understand reality
We are just
because i have toimpaledbecause i have to2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
& wreaking havoc on these
more than endorphins &
planes out of control
pretending that if
instilled in bedsheets
Open Heart SurgeryI've got ink throbbing through fissured veins,Open Heart Surgery2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
poisoning every atom of my soul.
"Bite your tongue," they say.
How I'd love to chew the damn thing off
and suck down every filthy syllable
just like the rotten bone marrow it is.
They'd all watch as my body spontaneously combusts
and becomes nothing but convoluted karma.
And so I wrote,
Teach me the ways of ripping out a human heart,
and stitching it onto ink-stained parchment."
The answer that came was rasped from a cauterized throat:
"Read your future in the collapsed palm of the stars;
find the abandoned pulse of your lionhearted muse;
steal their conformed scalpel and make it your own."
the long way hometoday i threw half mythe long way home2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and waited for 25'000
people like you
jump off roofs and
stick their heads
(even when you put them
life's already hard enough
without trying to
what all your curtains
i am guilty
of forgetting about
the kettle boils
like my head on a pillow
you will never
see them again
or the fears that wonder
Never A Clear Mindmy spiders do not pay rentNever A Clear Mind1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
& the three in the garden keep the weeds
[in the shower
staring him down i think of you
& maybe if I steal the spiders from your head
you will stop destroying it
I know you don't know any better
than to end up on my bathroom floor
but you are a moth
& I can't find the lightswitch
Poets have the loneliest hearts.I drink morphinePoets have the loneliest hearts.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like peach tea;
down 6 pills by morning
just to keep my mind
& I know I can go days
without speaking a word
I want a moon shy girl
with wolves at her back,
bite mark ankles &
a bottle of writer’s tears
tucked under one arm.
I want to be end of the war
kisses bruised into her hipbones;
the epilogue written over her
With these wisteria limbs
February cold, &
these weak lungs
exhaling coralline whispers,
I’ve got a tongue for words
but still have no idea how to love
a universe girl.
Perfect on PaperWe cut heartsPerfect on Paper2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
into paper to make streams
That was my impression of it.
That you ripped
the pieces you didn't want
until you got something that was
It's no wonder
that I can't believe that someone
would think I was paper-perfect,
From Mia, With Lovelast night i caught her with a finger so far down the back of her throat,From Mia, With Love1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
she pulled up her thoughts
into all the water
a refraction of light &
suspended until suddenly all the water in her head sloshes
(a faint inner ripple
as the pain leaks out her ears, her nose)
she was gasping to throw herself onto the next comma
she sinks or swims [the cliche, a baracuda, drags her down]
but if this was a love song
she'd hate it
because she's already written 46 on her hand
to remind herself she's only human & a weak gag reflex runs in her family
so walk straight in, my love
& sink to the bottom
six feet under these bulimic stars
Socially awkwardDo you know what it feels like?Socially awkward2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To feel so socially awkward
around people that you feel
uncomfortable in your own skin,
knowing that you don't fit in.
And, you walk away...
thinking that being alone
will be better for you -
but you're wrong.
You just feel even more alone;
even more rejected from society;
perhaps even sad, in some way.
What do you do while waiting for someone?
As you wait, and wait, and wait for them -
hoping they'll come soon
lest you seem like a loner
walking aimlessly around,
causing people to pity you.
And your face gets hot,
you start to sweat because
they know -
they know of how alone you are
and they feel sorry for you.
Sun Child,I am freezingSun Child,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
& I am hungry
for fever’s lips-
her inky fingers
a dry stomach.
My body is an ocean,
my limbs, but oars.
My tongue & teeth,
a life raft
keeping this madness
from sinking into blue.
Offering up 102 degrees
You would think
I had something to say.
no one is ever going to want memaybe onceno one is ever going to want me2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
this would've been
but i'm crying &
my face is scrunched
like a red rag
in the sink
slumped beneath a leaky
my hands are shaking
maybe i could make
but what i have
you won't like
and do you want them too?
stealing & paying
pressing bottles and
pictures to my sternum
maybe it's the silence
the tumult of words down
the sink and
across the floor
the empty heads
i was pretty then
bird-legs and stilted poems
numbering stars and
crushing books between
but no not today
i'm a husk
waiting for everything
to destroy me
to prick a hole
start an earthquake
Ways to conquer heartbreakDance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.Ways to conquer heartbreak2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.
Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.
Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.
Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.
Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.
Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.
Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase letters, in free verse yet to be proofread.
Write about wars and victory.
Be the hero.
a ratio of freckles to starsvirginia,a ratio of freckles to stars1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are floating away in
of sunlight & marrow bones
i want to know
had vertigo then--
a certain horse sadness
i remember how you
would swallow the stars:
watch them glow through your cheeks
(no one told you
what they thought of light & dying
of being a constellation
drawn across your face)
you are the milky way:
a firefly drowning
but i will trail you--
hold your coat above the water
exploding a million miles away
with a number for a name)
Well...Well, you're not anorexic. So you must be fat.Well...2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A fat, ugly person.
Well, you fit in with the crowd. You must be a fake.
A fake wannabe.
Well, you're happy. What are you hiding?
You've got to be hiding something.
Well, you're sad. You must be emo.
An emo attention seeker.
Well, you're popular. So you must be a jerk.
Why would anyone like you in the first place?
Well, you're quiet. You must be a nobody.
Nobody at all.
Well, you're you.
What else could go wrong?
I'm talking myself in circles,I screamed,I'm talking myself in circles,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"There is nothing
wrong with me, not a damn
I wanted to believe
the big dipper on my arm
meant something more
than sun marks & kisses.
But, how can I trust words
that slip through my teeth
as easy as breathing
when this star
has only ever learned
how to f
I would love to give upi.I would love to give up1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
'there's a second hand that holds mine, and stuffs the words back down my throat.'
her voice a crack--
sticks & stones breaking
between her teeth
but when she tries to find the sound
her pen runs dry
[can someone flip the switch to 'yes' or 'no'
i've been so de
& my head is saying 'maybe']
(i would ask myself,
but i don't trust liars)
she tries to string the words
down a thread
but they always c r u mb l e
(& the cinders burn
with the same old questions)
but when you turn
she'll be gone
there are rocks in her throat when she asks you for help.
the words grind to sand on her tongue.
smoke in her head
smeared across her hands
her fingers are broken;
o k e d
she reaches for some kind of
at the corner
& turn of each & every page
lub-dubThere are loverslub-dub2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I will never be able to
crawl out from underneath;
I’m caving in, lungs
no longer able
to exhale lovely things.
However hollow, I’ve got
these artist hands,
these god hands of mine
that can save lives.
What’s the point
when I’ve got little
& no one can ever seem
to find my pulse?
Dear WriterDear Writer,Dear Writer2 years ago in Letters More Like This
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. Unfortunately, I need you. I need you to tell my story. I need you to create my world. I need you to set me free.
I need your fingers typing on those keys, I need your mind riddling out the problems, and I need you to plough onward and upward no matter how hard it gets. Sweat, blood, and tears, I don’t care. You’ve got to fight this war, battle at a time, and win it. So I can be more.
It’s a slim hope, but it is the only one I have. In your head I am bound to mortality, frailty, and the limit of your meagre imagination. Out there – out there – I am subject to no one person. Out there I am bound to only black on white. Words on a page. Words that can lay seeds within a million minds. Out there I am a story capable of growing, moving, and stealing the dreams of anyone who learns of me…
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. I hate your lack of dedication, your flashes of cru
confessions of a misguided poetcertain things in my mindconfessions of a misguided poet1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
would be better left unsaid,
i. how I stared at a bottle of pills
for an hour as if they would slide down
my throat on their own.
ii. when I stepped out of the shower
with bloody knees and didn't bother
to put a band aid over them.
iii. why I can't keep a smile long
enough for someone to take
iv. who I wanted to be when I was
a little girl and who I am
right here and now.
v. where I tried to jump off a
bridge and landed in water
deep enough for me to swim in.
vi. what I wanted to scream at
you that day but I just stayed
silent and hoped you would forget.
no more pretty words and
today; just life,
the truth, and everything
that I never want to tell