Orange skinOrange skin2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Your orange skin makes me warm in December
like the Sea is a blanket to the sand
and the Sun nurtures youth to our land
i'll be Your pocket -
You may keep all Your secrets inside of me
be shy and be not
there's nothing You should be afraid of
while You're here, with me
on this Pale Blue Dot.
Baby's lullabyall of the children went to their beds,Baby's lullaby2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
a soft starry light guarding their heads;
hush now baby, don't you weep,
silence is just music put to sleep.
nopti albem-am gândit la tinenopti albe4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
până am orbit de-atâta
am măsurat distanţa în tăceri
care ajung întotdeauna prea târziu.
am început să număr vieţile
până când o să ne întâlnim din nou.
pears and nearspears and nears3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
monday afternoon and
my lover is studying;
i am wondering if he remembers that time when
we learnt together the geometric shapes -
circled are his lips when
the sun draws himself upon them;
i am jealous.
earth has his own anatomy -
them science people called him "pear";
maybe the fruit was before the planet
or maybe the planet grew out of it,
which makes us pearestrials, but
i wouldn't know;
i don't do science.
i don't even do words -
words are too academic sometimes;
it's propestorous (exclamation mark)
and my fingers are only made to waltz with yours;
i'm sorry when i stumble,
you know my forefinger is high heel sensitive;
there's too many is in the world.
monday's moving towards evening
my lover's still studying
earth is still a pear
there's Pretty Woman on tv
the food is not getting any w
de iuniemi-am aruncat ieri toate perechile de papucide iunie4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
şi toţi dumnezeii
care nu m-au înţeles niciodată.
pe tine te-am pus într-o cutie de carton
şi te-am lăsat în faţa porţii,
aşa cum fac oamenii cu lucrurile
care nu-i lasă să mai respire.
şi te-am privit legată la ochi
(ca să nu ştiu cui să i te cer înapoi)
până ai dispărut.
de mâine încep să caut
străini care să nu semene cu tine
şi pe care să-i visez
fără să ţip.
inganandu-ti gandurileşşşşt!inganandu-ti gandurile4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
vorbeşti prea tare
şi n-am reuşit
gândeşte-l iar doar pentru mine
şi o să-l ascult
cu ochii închişi
(tu mi-ai spus că cele-mai-frumoase-gânduri
nu se aud
cu ochii deschişi.)
până o să gândesc şi eu
cu vocea ta.
cum sa orbesti inzilelenoastreia-ţi sufletul de mână şicum sa orbesti inzilelenoastre4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
mută-te într-o sală de cinema
sau într-o casă cu geamuri din podea;
pune-i mâinile la ochi,
cere-i să-ţi spună ce vede
de fiecare dată când va spune
A Shoe TaleA Shoe Tale2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were a pair of red shiny shoes living in a boxful of dreams, on cloud-coated linens. One May day, a little girl found them sleeping next to each other, and she loved them so much that she took them out for an afternoon walk, sometimes tituppy, sometimes gingerly, on the sundressed alleys. Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were cheerful, as they had never breathed such a crisp air before, and the chill of those spring days, after a good sturdy rain, was daintly tickling their soles, growing goosebumps on their skin.
The little girl was bursting with fidgetness. When she stopped to bathe in a tiny oasis, she briskly took off her shoes and left them on the dewy grass. Mister Lacey and miss Ribbon were slightly afraid, as gloomy spiders and frowning mosquitoes were tamelessly rumbling around them. They cuddled tightly, to make the fear go away, like salt in a desert storm. The fear started to vanish itself, as the two realized that they were not alone. They were a p
one street level miraclegoi.one street level miracle3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
umăr peste umăr
ne suprapunem perfect
ca un puzzle alcătuit din două corpuri
care în sfârşit există.
inimile noastre îşi sincronizează mişcările,
o bătaie tu,
o bătaie eu,
un moment de reculegere pentru bătăile din urmă
şi aşa am ajuns să fim
Omul cu cele mai multe bătăi de inimă pe minut.
zâmbesc cu toate oasele
atunci când pielea mea
îşi sparge valurile de pielea ta
cea mai frumoasă mare
acum deschide ochii
şi dormi liniştit.
azi nu moare nimeni.
avem bătăi de inimă
pentru fiecare om.
atathai,atat4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
în câte bucăţele vrei,
oricum n-o să-nţelegi nimic.
Anorexic Pretty BoyMy Anorexic Pretty BoyAnorexic Pretty Boy10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
My anorexic pretty boy
My fragile little broken toy
Always crying when alone
Waiting to be taken home
Eyes filled with ambivalence
Mind filled with the ignorance
Hands, they shake with fear and pain
Falling in the pouring rain
The heart of a doll which you possess
No love for another, you confess
I hold you in the bitter cold
As the darkness too grows old
My beloved little pretty thing
Oh how you mean so much to me
Never will I let you go
True love for you is all I know
I will protect you in the dark
Upon your heart I make my mark
Loving you, I do enjoy
My anorexic pretty boy
Deux-pieceDeux-piece3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i gave my heart to a crocodile
he used it as a toothpick
i took it back
gave it to Charlie Chaplin
he kept playing the dictator
i took it back
gave it to Houdini
he'd make it disappear every morn
i took it back
gave it to the Beatles
they threw it to their lunatic fans
i took it back
gave it to my chest
it was dark and bloody in there
i took it back
gave it to You,
to stuff it next to yours -
i heard from your veins
there's room enough for Two
in your rib cage.
KING MEOver the course of time you have carefully adjusted the shape of the checker piece by scraping it on the concrete floor methodically, quietly, so as to not garner attention.KING ME2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The evening meal arrives in your cell, with a message written on the salt packet: KING ME.
A jolt of adrenaline (KING ME) but you must calm your breathing and eat your dinner as normal. KING ME. You empty the salt packet and chew the paper.
KING ME. It's past midnight (you assume; no clocks) when you jam the slightly modified checker disc into the lens of the video camera. It fits as if made for it.
The wait is agony, but eventually your handler comes to investigate the dead video feed. Between the time he peeps in through the slot to the time his key scrapes in the lock you bolt from your fake-sleeping position and poke the checker piece with a finger. It pops out of the camera into your hand. KING ME.
When the door swings open you are ready for him. Routine has caused everyone to become slack; he does not expect
calamity.the poor boy got a lecture from deaths secretarycalamity.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"deaths busy enough as it is without walk ins"
"but it was urgent," he stutters.
"it couldn't wait, it was now or never"
he was simply told
"take a number, and wait over there with the rest
who 'couldn't wait' "
.sec.unde?în fiecare zi se întâmplă o grămadă de lucruri..sec.unde?4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
viaţa se întâmplă în fiecare zi.
aşa că nu-ţi face griji,
n-a fost vina nimănui,
la un moment dat trebuia
să ne întâmplăm şi noi.
Hand Cannon OverkillHand Cannon Overkill2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The charismatic recluse
with a loner's philosophy.
Birds of a feather,
the punishments that I endure,
I cannot work beneath
The know-nothing status
in the search for myself
Goes on with trial & error...
All in all, I am merely awaiting
my own return.
roman 0crashed my car driving drunk for the iiird time this weekroman 02 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
held your faded photograph in one hand and fell asleep at the wheel
pretended It was vintage, that the warm sepia
coating your smile and the frame wasn’t
spilled coffee and cigarette ash.
reality isn’t always as bright
as my camera flash on your face.
put the high in highway at ii hundred miles per millisecond
eyes wide and red and hollow and hopeful
that a cop would come running after me.
ive been needing someone
to hold me down and tell me
“you’ve been a very bad boy”
like you used to.
Swallowed i too many pills this time
(i didn’t lie when i said i’d only take
as many as i needed to feel better).
you made me see stars
or maybe that was just the medicine?
how strange i think who could ever like someone
so discernibly sour?
slingshot words.there are a million worlds living in your headslingshot words.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
begging to be wrapped around your tongue and released like a slingshot
into the heart of some stranger you may never meet.
eight things that hurt more than a broken boneone,eight things that hurt more than a broken bone2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i have never had broken bones,
but i imagine it would snap,
splinter, pierce my skin.
i imagine it would be
the pieces i cannot put back together
scratching their way out of
this body bag.
i imagine my demons would
not rest until my arms are torn
by the claws of my inside.
i'd imagine broken bones
would not hurt as much
as broken confidence,
(my lack of it.)
fluctuating positions in life.
the backbone of a dreamer
who finds nightmares her companion,
the fingertips of a mother,
pressed against feverish foreheads.
the lips of a teenage girl,
forgetting what truth sounds like.
i cannot remember the last time i did.
knotted hair pulled out at the roots.
nail polish remover spilled into wounds.
lips chapped red.
burned at the stake
dying on a scaffold,
unable to speak.
numbers on the scale,
tick-tack-toe on my wrist.
every blistering insecurity
that sends me spiraling.
The KrakenThe Kraken2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your life is a boat
Wandering the desolate seas.
But then nothing.
Until the heavens open.
The seas waves grow and grow
Hitting your mast,
What guides you
pulling you on your right path.
In the dark deep waters
Lurks a demon.
A demon so big
It will swallow you whole.
until your last dying breath.
Your worst enemy.
It will wrap its deadly tentacles around you.
Squeeze away your pleading scream.
It's your life's worst enemy.
YellowMy parents bought a little two-bedroom house when they first got married. It was run down, falling apart, but most importantly: cheap.Yellow4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Two years later, my mother fell pregnant with me. She immediately abandoned her job for some plaster and paint and set about decorating the untouched spare room. She splashed pastel yellow across the walls, replaced the dingy carpet and kitted out the room with furniture.
Sixteen years after my birth, and the yellow paint is flaking off the walls revealing the kiwi green beneath. I can peel back the corners of the carpet to reveal the worn underlay and half rotten floorboards. I can examine the fringe of my cream curtains where the bright yellow hasn't been bleached by the sun. The room is, more or less, unchanged. It has merely lost its sheen, much like the inhabitant of it.
I remained an only child; filling my days with quiet solitary games and elaborate stories whispered under my breath. My isolation only increased as I grew too big for the room that
Address to NightFind yourself put out on the street like bonesAddress to Night1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
for a wire-haired dog, find yourself lost
at the next bus stop. The maps are all veins
you shouldn’t trace back to a perfectly
well-beating heart. There are places you can’t
visit. In this room, family only. Recovery
isn’t done by halves, or even full pockmarked
moons. And I have loved your low harvest, your thrush
of cold; I have felt it sit on my shoulder and
sing. The pool at night, all the light inside
magnified by absence, the girls night
mermaids – streaming hair illuminated
by your nothing. The place you terminate
is where I choose to love him. Don’t drag
against my door; the lights are on. We’re home.
crystallophonethere is a punchcard sincrystallophone2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like a queen of spades smoldering in an alley.
you hear how the gears churn,
singing faster than we did before
back when black magic dropped like a
pair of socks from the sky with supplies
taped to a note that said
(oh, look at you now)
such a beautiful brain:
runs on gasoline?
have a gallon
or we can call it a balloon,
and a new pair of glasses
for your tapered eyes
(you peel the bark back on the logs,
but you're not sure what you see),
and life says,
either nail jello to a tree,
or keep your
icicles hanging from the eaves,
caterpillars frolicking in the ashes,
your 'Sam, I still don't have your number,'
and your totaled passion:
someone to hang inside out with,
string you up like a steak with.
what the hunger
is trying to tell me
my brain churns like butter,
my insides aflare, my chakras combusting,