CondenseCan you hear them from your speakers?
complaining while maintaining
multiple online personas
drowning in useless megabytes
neck just barely above the
torrent of the social me-
dia movement breathing in
way of life on their fifteen
inch screens addicted to
the filtered medica-
tion they are gobbling
down like guppies in a
fish tank of which glass
walls are created
of what they forged from
their minds to forget
why all the facts
were there in the
for them to breathe
in all that is
and want nothing
AgainForever perceiving tunnel visionAgain2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Lost in everyday traditions
Composing nonsensical renditions
To explain the thoughts within
Always falling backwards
Into the deepening abyss
Looking to the sky to find
The meaning in the myth
The Torturing DreamSoft... her skin. He knew it would be before he even knew her name.The Torturing Dream2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Silent... the breath he can't catch after his gasp when she said 'Hello gorgeous. Let's go make some trouble.'
Soft... the sheets on the bed in a room he'd never seen, but was happy to be inhabiting.
Silent... the arch of her back and the tears on her face, oxytocin induced...
Hard... the concrete he sees when he awakes from the dream
Cold... the skin on his chest where she laid her head seconds before
Hard... the sound of him lighting a cigarette in the quiet room
Cold... his breath when he exhales the first drag of another day
Rusty CageDon't perch me upon a cotton cloudRusty Cage2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Or quarter me by the country lake;
No fields of grain inspire me now,
Nor misty hues above the creek.
I have seen too many daffodils
And belle bluebells too pall my soul,
These mockingjays do not arouse
A drop of woe, a drip of joy.
Instead set me off upon a barge
Where the shadows meet, by day or night;
Off to a shade where silence unites
With her soundless charms of quietude.
And leave my haunt with little tint
A monochrome wind, a fickle farewell,
And write to me once every fortnight
From the confines of your recent grave.
And here let there be no robin's song,
No blackbird's lay, no warbler's hymn,
Leave me be in my rusty cage:
The throne of human creation.
Children of Ash and EarthThe chanting filled my head.Children of Ash and Earth2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Staring into the gentle crackling of the fire, I could hear the twisted lullaby repeating itself as if the monks themselves were beside me. Whispers, deep booming calls, broken calls to the heavens in a language nobody understood, they rose together in a clamouring tinnient at the back of my mind. They filled my head, building in volume and harmony as they sang to the rhythm of the fire. I heard those damned voices always, even when they were no longer singing. I wanted nothing more than to silence them forever. Staring hard into the fire, I wound the hand wraps tighter around my palms, re-wrapping them over and over again, daring to hope that perhaps this time, I could stop the bleeding.
“…Will you bury me?”
The chanting stopped. I looked up, the lullaby momentarily banished by my sister’s voice. Asha didn’t stir. Sat across from me, her dull and lifeless eyes were visible only for passing seconds before she was obscured once
Embers"How are you?"Embers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"You have a good day?"
falling like embers,
"Do you ever have fun?"
"All the time."
but burning to the touch,
"You never smile."
"Of course I smile!"
then flickering out,
"Are you keeping up?"
"I never fell behind."
but soon they build up,
"Did you sleep well?"
swarming like fireflies,
"You look tired."
turn into flames,
"Are you sick?"
taking your clothes,
"Something on your mind?"
the flesh underneath,
"You wanted to talk?"
"It's not important."
"You've been acting distant lately."
"Sorry, I've been busy."
"You missed a class."
"Must have been a mistake in attendance."
"We're worried about you."
"You need help."
War Never ChangesTime and time again we falterWar Never Changes2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Gunshots sound about us
Fighting to see who is king
Our heroes of patriots sing
At the point of our enemy's guns
Fear strikes the heart
All of our daughters and sons
Are being ripped apart
Storming a beach never again
People rise at the sound
Of their brothers and their sisters
Falling all around
Lords will fall
While heroes crawl
Through a trench of gore
Back at home music plays
Glorifying the war
The People think that we have won
But we have just moved on
To a beach so far away
No one will hear our song
A song of glory and righteousness
Turned inside out
Filling all of our hearts with the depths of doubt
The Most Mainstream Fish in the SeaHeading downstreamThe Most Mainstream Fish in the Sea2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Is too mainstream
For the most retarded fish in the sea
Scales ever so brightly coloured
To stand out against the rest
Only to find
That the sea is already full
Of silly looking, brightly coloured fish
This fish liked swimming
Before it was cool
Forever a fool
Craving for attention
In essence, what I’m trying to say is;
You’re scared of regularity
Dripping with irony
You’re a boring entity
Trying to be cool
Before it was cool
Doesn’t make any sense
When you created a fad
Of your own design
And when you followed the rest
In their silly string vests
You stopped thinking for yourself
You became as that of which you try to defy
So put down your yakult,
And drop the charade
Stop prancing about
With your loony parade
Reginald Morris 'Winter stole summer's thrill'Reginald Morris3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
- Ben Howard.
'I'm getting old and I need something to rely on'
'You may tire of me, as our December sun is setting,
'cause I'm not who I used to be'
- Death Cab for Cutie.
As Reginald Morris took his final breaths, he lay alone in a hospital bed. There was no one to comfort him as he slipped out of this world. The closest to comfort he got was a blanket that a nurse had tucked him into. At ninety-six years of age, he had no living friends or family. His wife Mary had died
NaPoWriMo- Day 5She used to try and catch butterfliesNaPoWriMo- Day 52 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
until she realized their beauty
rubbed off on her fingers;
but she will always be loving you
with those digits.
20 years from now
when even the love on her arms
HarborShe'll have blue eyesHarbor2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for the seagulls
because she'll know how it must be
to fly in the salt-kissed air
and only see water for miles
and love it.
she'll want to taste the ocean
in the wind,
a particle of Calypso's tears
for every life lost at sea
and she'll want to save every snail and turtle
she can get her long, pale, fingers on.
She'll never wear shoes
because she'll need to feel the sand
hugging her toes on the shore
the damp ocean water tenderly touching
her bare ankles.
She'll chase after the water-line
more than she chases her dreams
because perhaps a life underwater
is her dream.
There will be something
about the way she stands to face
the Atlantic and Pacific
that will make you think
she stands on twin wooden pillars.
And her smile that will look out
to the fading and shining horizon
will remind you about her
and how every faint sound she makes
is like the slits and cracks and whispers
of the boardwalk.
Navy men and Sailors will ask her
for her na
NaPoWriMo: Day 4I might have a scrappers knees,NaPoWriMo: Day 42 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wildflowers growing on my knuckles,
& I might remind you of every nasty thing
you ever did,
but I don’t see you in my mirror.
I just have the right
to hate my own face.
I think this hitchhiker’s heart
is breaking &
I don’t have the medical skill-
or the time
to suture the pieces
back together again.
The things I Never tell youWhy is it that I never ask you for money or anything else for that matters?The things I Never tell you2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You ask me but somehow I think you already know the answer.
I know about the economic state we're in and I know how broken
you are inside. Even if you try to hide it behind a smile I can see
how false it is.
(That's why I try to cover up when
I'm out of medicine because if you
don't know you don't have to worry
about the money to getting more...
That's why I often smuggle back
the money from my student grant
back into your pockets when you don't see.)
Why is it that I never tell you about my problems and ask for help?
Because I know you have enough problems of your own to be able
to deal with mine.
(and inside I'm afraid that if i told you,
i would be seen as too big burden to carry
for your already worn out shoulders,
and be tossed aside to make it easier for
you to carry on.
After all, I'm just the failed leftover of the
hopes you carried for me)
And if I sometimes asked you for anything more th
Museshe was an immaculate understanding of beautyMuse2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and made art blush a thousand times,
and the painter's brush
and the sculptor's spurl
could never quite possess her,
even in their minds.
she retired to Colmar and Vienna
never resting, never testing
the waters of time,
although they say she adored Florence
and left more men doting
than Tuscan mothers did bear,
and Cupid wept all of Styx
when his noxious darts
fluttered not lips or hearts.
she chanced upon Zhou in Zhaoge
and left his soul in want of want,
and all his queens could not delight
the wanton thirst of Jahangir.
and so pleasured yet, and yet untouched,
the virgin maid of Gaia's cruor
witnessed the world upon Sleipner
and slept by mortal maidens all,
whispering into their quiet dreams:
a love for each, a love in reach,
and thus every man's fall from grace
began upon yearning that changing face.
there she hangs upon my wall,
all the passion of Ilium's scattered ashes,
all the virulent venom in Iago's gall,
all the enticing verse
Guacamole"that color is ugly."Guacamole2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she would say
when I would dip my
pens and paint brushes
in a glass dish of guacamole.
"food is beautiful."
I stroke the avocado on the walls,
I let it live
I let it breathe
I let it absorb the colors,
I let it eat.
"that color is ugly."
she'll say again,
in her plaid bra
and bronze skin
and I'll hold back a sigh.
I dip the tip of the brush
into the heart of the
I spread the avocado tears
across my chest,
an equilateral line of green life.
I spread it across her collar bones,
a vertical line of organic structure.
"that color is ugly."
she'll say, taking her clothes off.
I'll hold back the tears.
"that color is you."
Lost LoveShe was precious as a flowerLost Love2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
That had come close to a frost,
Like a bird flying in the wrong direction
That would never admit to being lost.
She was beautiful as a butterfly’s wing
Just catching at the air,
And she’d find her way into your heart
Before you even knew that she was there.
She was tantalizing as a summer breeze
And delicate as lace.
She’d go wherever the wind took her,
And would be gone without a trace.
OsteoporosisToday,Osteoporosis2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I didn't try to hide
how I grind my teeth
when I speak to you,
so you'd hear my contempt
through locked jaws:
"Why can't you ever just let me be happy?"
I didn't force a laugh
to protect your ego,
because you wouldn't do the same.
Instead you gift-wrap your condescension
as if I should be grateful for it.
As if I'd always have the tact
not to re-gift.
I didn't take the chance
to be a useless bystander, watching
as you step all over those you deem smaller,
who really just have more patience
than you'll ever understand.
I didn't fall captive
to your occasional kindness:
the life raft you throw to yourself
when you see you've just about drowned
in your own created conflicts.
I didn't try to deny
that the most dangerous thing about you
is your selective deafness
to the word
I have had enough
of your need to be at the top.
And as the rungs of the ladder beneath you gave way,
I turned my back.
And one by one,
down each step m
ForgottenMy heart like shattered glass lies broken,Forgotten2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
The fragments pierce my lung,
I grasp for words unspoken,
for feelings left unsung,
my skin it feels so cold,
why don’t I feel the pain?,
my bones they feel so old,
the steel against my vein,
perhaps in crimson tides,
will you remember my name
Lady of 1876Ironically, it was my stubbornness which caused me to change my convictions. Though Nathaniel was undoubtedly a kind-hearted young man, he was incurably delusional. He entertained the strangest ideas, and then in his spare time vehemently tried to convince me they were true. People, sentient people, could be built from simple mechanical parts, he insisted.Lady of 18762 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
“All you’d need is a boiler and some clockwork. Just as you’ve got, Adelaide. Just as your inventor must’ve done,” he’d say. I usually ignored these benign ramblings and proceeded with what I was best at, namely repairing clocks and pocket watches. Nathaniel was a talented watchmaker and I was his assistant, soon to become his apprentice.
Sometimes his theories were so absurd that I simply couldn’t ignore them. One such instance occurred when he decided to fixate on my hands. Apparently the fact that they were made of metal was proof that I wasn’t human.
“No humans have metal hand
Life ItselfThe only time I smiled todayLife Itself2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Was when I thought of dying
And how good I am at lying
Each and every single day.
I've got a box of painkillers
They sleep right by my bed
For when all I see is red,
They'll numb it into darkest white.
I've tried talking to people,
But I can't word what I want to say
And maybe I like living this way,
Knowing that I'll die soon.
I know I'm self-destructive
My crosshatch skin screams it
But inside there's a little bit
That still aches to be saved.
I've tried before and I'll try again
To put my worthlessness away
But fate forced me to stay;
Death's a bitch like that.
Life makes me want to die
Yet it won't let me leave
Or grant me a reprieve
From that which it's made me hate;
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
The GracefulThey ate rocks.The Graceful2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What does that mean?
It means they were trying to get back to the Earth
They wanted to return to the soil
without giving up their precious immortality.
these lonely human beings
were willing to grind their very bone into dust
they were willing to digest
the geometric organs
the geographic inards of Gaia herself
if it meant
that they could live
They ate rocks
and it didn't matter if they couldn't breathe
if they couldn't bleed red.
It didn't even matter
if they couldn't love.
these lonely human beings
were willing to bury their hearts in the Earth
if it meant they could live
Wake me up whenWake me up, when crying is only for those moments that are unbearably beautiful.Wake me up when2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wake me up, when helping someone else, is done genuinely and joyfully.
Wake me up, when society becomes less interested in falsities and more aware of truth.
Wake me up, when equality is real, apparent, strong and inevitable.
Wake me up, when children's innocence is untainted with maturity.
Wake me up, when control is dead and freedom roams wildly.
Wake me up, when poverty only exists in bad decisions.
Wake me up, when money is last, on the peoples to get list.
Wake me up, when power belongs to us, and not the self-proclaimed.
Wake me up, when we heal the earth from our selfishly inflicted lacerations.
Wake me up, when respect is our international anthem.
Wake me up, when love is all we know, and fear is suffocated by it.
Wake me up, when strength is nurtured and weakness buried.
Wake me up, when beauty is appreciated for all its imperfections.
Wake me up, when conformity is drowning in an ocean of imagina
Keeping secretsHave you ever cried yourself to sleep?Keeping secrets2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And if someone asked you that,
how would you answer?
Truth be told, I used to -
Just lie in bed and think,
think about every single thing
and how I felt about it...
what it meant to me.
But I'll just say no,
because I don't want you to know
about how weak I am.
And it is when all is silent,
the tears will slide slowly,
soaking your pillow.
Like a movie,
the scene plays out in your head
of all those times when you were
damaged and broken.
Replayed and replayed until
all the images end up blur and disjointed.
Have you ever cried yourself to sleep?
Yes, I have - many times, in fact.
But I'll just say no
because you're my friend
and if I were to tell you,
it would be the end.
Fingerpainted ExistenceI run away with my imagination...Fingerpainted Existence2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Take me by surprise
your sandpaper lips against mine.
Forgetting the fingerspaces
we'd drilled into our mind
when we were children.
Our handwriting barely legible,
making shapes on car windows
with condensation-filled breaths.
And I am blinded by your light.
So we wonder what it's like past
the double-paned glass.
Our styro-foamed-bubble-wrapped lives
melt away like better pasts
the ones we used to know.
Our tears fading into nothingness,
pooling into fingerpaint
painting our own worlds across the windshield.
You fill up the room.
Yet the paint dries, it shrivels away
with the light of each new day,
our fingers peel away the glass
the unfinished landscapes
that we had once imagined.
The flakes amassing beneath us,
towards scorching sunlight.
I have a secret I need to tell you...
Who knew that life could be so painful?
The outside world had once looked beautiful
before the whites of our eyes
it had se