Tea with the RabbitTea with the rabbit today
just the same as every day,
every single day and every single night.
And when he danced and sang
I could not join in merriment
for the ropes that bound did not budge
He would scream and cry while sipping tea,
and I would laugh while hiding tears.
He said he was late,
for what I know naught,
but he did not leave my nightmare.
“The Queen of Hearts is evil!”
And I agreed blindly. Yet I could not help
but wonder if she was really the evil one.
Dormouse, his friend of valiant honor,
rammed his sword into my thigh
and grinned when I wept and bled.
And my one and only friend sat across,
sipping his tea without a care, mumbling nonsense.
The giant hat upon his head outweighed his judgement.
Tea was scalding as it poured down my throat,
he didn't care as his feet thumped down
pleas to stop fell on deaf cottontail ears.
And when the cry of ‘off with her head!’ sounded
I couldn’t help but be relived and yet I still cried.
Death Takes Two SugarsDeath knocked on the doorDeath Takes Two Sugars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
came inside without invitation
poured herself some tea
and asked for a story.
He laughed at all the right parts,
cried when I cried,
asked for more than she received
It cried with me and laughed with me
sipping their tea and listening
she wondered what I didn’t do
then told me how idiotic I was.
He told me about the children
I could have had but didn’t
and the falls that lifted me up
with the loss of others.
The story of how I almost killed a girl
when she ran into the street
scared her to run into the arms of her father
and never ran into the street again.
The tale of the man who was meant for me
yet still didn’t want me
and that was not my fault but his
for his life went on a different path.
Death pushed in his chair and declared,
‘It’s time for you to go’
despite my tea’s warmth
and my story was not quite finished.
‘I’m not ready to go’
I bellowed and threw my cup
Pretty Blue PillsPretty blue pills,Pretty Blue Pills2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
shiny in my palm,
the ticket to my peace,
to my eternal calm.
They're so perfectly round,
and soon they'll be in me.
The closest to perfect
that I'll ever be.
They go down so smooth.
Five, ten, fifteen and twenty.
Soon I'll be gone.
Twenty-five and Thirty.
That should be enough,
but I'll play it safe.
Thirty-five and forty.
Now I have no more to take.
The bottle is empty,
as empty as I feel.
None of this is happening,
too good to be real.
But soon I start to drift
into a dark unknown fog.
Somewhere quite distantly.
I hear a muffled sob.
But I blow it off as fake.
Nobody could possibly care.
I doubt anyone's noticed
that I'm no longer there.
But then I hear my name,
just a distant call.
I feel myself lift higher.
No! I want to fall!
I ignore the voice in earnest,
but it's calling me up, up, up.
Please let me be.
That life was too tough.
I like this fog,
this numbing haze,
free from the ridicule,
from the judging gaze.
But inevitably I come up,
eyes open so slight.
MiscommunicationMy mongoose breathed a story,Miscommunication3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
words dripping in bright colors
from his mouth
to shatter at my feet.
Songbirds escaped from my eyes
to chase the winter bubbles that formed
from the creature’s broken syllables.
The savor of Chaos shifted
to a perfect D minor,
and its tremor splashed shadows
across the canvas of feathers and fur.
They surfed above me
on a vermilion wind
which tasted like Persian sunshine
and smelled like painted starlight.
Sound failed my tongue
and vanished from my ears,
for colors abandoned me on shimmering wings
to join the beasts in flight.
My feet turned to stone
as their eyes slid around their heads
to capture me.
They asked me why I had no face.
I told them I had not heard the tale.
Living With A LieYou sit there shaking; emotionally frozen.Living With A Lie2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You check the time on your watch, despite knowing it already.
The ever-present numbness, the cold feeling which clutches at your soul;
That is what you feel upon the dawn of the lie.
To know its nature, to know its being;
To have it spill upon your awareness.
What words would surmise such a bitter feeling:
Perhaps the use of dejection, p
Sticks And StonesSticks And Stones2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sticks and Stones
Sticks and stones will break my bones,
But words will slowly kill me
Hurricanes will break my home,
But storms will never kill me
Death is not an experience,
we can wait for in life*
Guns will be the death of me,
If I pull the trigger
Cuts from Knives will make me bleed,
But bandages will heal them
Emotions though can cut deeper,
Hearts will never heal.
Bombs will shatter my city,
love will shatter life
Hate will destroy this world,
Friends the only shelter **
The world will be left broken,
My words will describe it
Feedback is appreciated
But only if you want to
The Real WritersThe Real Writers:The Real Writers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There are those who sit with their laptops and tablets,
Clothed in a scarf and an artistic hat of some sort.
They ponder; leaving a stack of books beside them,
Sipping their decaf as though they are literature personified.
What works do they prepare, other than blatant copies,
Perhaps a half-baked romance designed to woo a lady.
So convinced are they, of their own aptitude;
They are blinded by the beams of their burgeoning ego.
For the writer is not the man who is tapping away at keys,
He is not the man fervently reading with lensless glasses.
He is not the hipster debating ancient literature.
For he is a monster, wearing human skin.
He is the deranged madman, eccentric, uncanny.
He is the one who sits catatonic;
An entire world of fantasy playing in his mind.
He has gone through millions of scenes,
Thousands of scenarios, hundreds of plots
And dozens of characters.
He is not the man you expect him to be,
For a true writer is utterly WEIRD.
Being A Good Person is a CHOICE!Now, imagine this situation for a moment:Being A Good Person is a CHOICE!2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You are a good father, a wonderful husband.
You go 'pray' every Sunday, doing a wonderful lip-service.
You've taken your kids to soccer practice
And you are ready to enjoy your Sunday.
Tui bu qi, ni ke yi pang wo ma?
You turn around and see an old Chinese lady.
She can't speak English and needs assistance.
You pretend you cannot hear her and drive away.
Smooth-stuff dad, you should return that #1 mug...
To me however, there would be no question.
I was late to a part-time job, it would actually cost me money;
And did I mention I can't speak Chinese either?
Instead I communicated with gestures and signs.
She wanted to go to the train station, as I later learned.
With your car it would have taken five minutes.
But we walked and that is also okay.
To be honest, you might think you've done more good than evil.
You might think there is a welcoming committee for you at the pearly gates.
I regret to inform you however, that
Sit down, I want to tell you something!Sit down for a second,Sit down, I want to tell you something!2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Because I want to tell you something.
I want to tell you and everybody else that walked over me.
That today, I have become something!
Just walk with me for a second,
I want to show you something.
You remember this; is it all falling into place?
Cause this is where you shut me down.
Now I didn't know what I was supposed to do;
Excuse me for being a loser, right?
I had to work up a lot of courage to ask you out.
But you didn't even look at anything beneath the surface.
So of course, you just flipped me off and walked away.
Because of you I went to the gym every single day.
Because of you I started lifting iron over my head.
And you know what it feels pretty damn good to be getting my pump.
Yeah, that's something that you did for me!
And now, over to my phone,
Let's call up Michael.
What up man?
You remember me?
Yeah, I'm the guy who could never fit in!
That kid who was
Let the World GoThis is the way I seeLet the World Go2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Is this a poem
or a song?
Is this a right
for a wrong?
Is this a fight
Is this the place
Are these borders
shore to shore?
Is there an end
to this war?
What am I still
Does it matter
Are there reasons
for these lines?
Is there purpose
in these rhymes?
Is there penance
for my crimes?
Is there still hope
for these times?
This is the way I breathe
I will let these
Forget what I
used to know
Set my sights on
a new goal
of my soul
My own limits
create this quirk
I don't let them
define my work
I'm in control
of this meter
Of my own will
I'm the master
of my heart
and failed rhyme;
added this time...
It doesn't matter
It didn't matter
Because the planet
doesn't know my soul-
this is the way I
let the world go
Reversed Abduction -Chapter 1- The silver clock hung noisily on the wall, ticking with the sound of a bomb as each second went by. I was impatiently waiting for nine o’clock that evening. The reason? I was practically forced into walking to the mall with my best friend, Lux, and her “boyfriend”, Jack. Jack would repeatedly end their relationship, until he discovered that his good looks weren’t going to get him very far when matched up with his attitude. So, he would beg for Lux to take him back… and Lux, being so in infatuated with him, would agree to the relationship in an instant. Apparently they were back together, and wanted to meet with me at the mall that night. … At nine o’clock… on Sunday.Reversed Abduction -Chapter 1-2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I turned my head to my mother as she sat on the recliner. Her short, curly blonde hair barely reached her shoulders. She was twirling it with her finger, as if it wasn’t already perfectly shaped and spiraled.
The Happiest DepressionSo happy and brightThe Happiest Depression2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
this little balloon.
Thought I could float.
Thought I was immune.
But not helium filled,
i'll hit the ground soon.
I was caught, by a small child's hands.
I'm fearful, this young one can't understand
That my, happiness is my illness
In their eyes:
Colorful, wonderful, blissful, blimp.
Deflating, stretchy, empty, ship.
Toss me into the air, hoping for ascension
Descend down to earth, falling in depression
Your Poetry SucksYes, roses are redYour Poetry Sucks2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
And violets are blue
But you have to understand
Who said they had to,
Its about imagination
Emotion and orignality
Not the reiteration
Of dead men's practicality
They are your sentence
To a world that has to listen
As you create the difference
Whether it be
With angst poem against love
Or how you set your heart free
To fly like a dove,
For these words
Whether or not they be true
Their beauty and ideals
Will be used to define you,
Hope ,in fact, has feathers
And like a caged bird it sings
But these words will only be tethers
That strip you of your wings,
Those are their words
Meant for their time
And meant for their herds,
But this your time
Meant for your words
And whether they be meaningful, stupid
Or completely absurd
I'm sure they'll be amazing.
Reversed Abduction -Intro-My breath began to choke me. I sprinted through the thick forest, my hair tangled and my skin covered in blood. Fallen branches scraped at my open wounds as wind howled through the trees. My ripped t-shirt felt like it was suffocating me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t escape. A seemingly invisible tree root tripped me as I tried once again to find a way out of the forest. I landed with a thud in the dirt. In panic, I quickly crawled to a tree and sat, confused and terrified.Reversed Abduction -Intro-2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
My name is Hazel Moon. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how to escape. And I don’t know who he is.
But he’s trying to kill me.
I got up, and suddenly, a hand covered my mouth furiously. I tried to scream, but my body was in such a shock that no sound could come out. I tried to break free, but I couldn’t.
What was happening? My thoughts raced through my mind. I tried to scream again, and finally, I actually made a sound
IfWe canIf3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
draw lines and give them names
as they are discovered
Or etch into our skins
this soloecal desire
until it is impossible to tell
where words stop
and life begins.
Find a common rhythm that includes
you in my arms, my hands
and lungs and thoughts
tracing the outline of you
entangled with me
colliding like two lost particles
locked in a shared gravity
drifting through the vacuum
In a Little Girl's MindThere sits the girl with the things in her eyesIn a Little Girl's Mind3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies
Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams
Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams
Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins
Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins
Little red houses on roads left to fade
Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade
Blood pouring out as she cries her own name
Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame
She could have stopped it and left it behind
All of these things in her troubled young mind
She could have saved them if she dared to try
Rather, though, she left herself there to die.
Now, others watch as she sits on the ground
Keeping their distance and letting her drown
In her own worries and things she won't tell
Waiting for her mind to kill her as well…
The Rat BoyThere was a rat boy, so timid and small.The Rat Boy2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Everything in this world, seemed so tall.
To everyone, he was minuscule,
a lonely, livid, leaf, inside his school.
There came his oppressors, his offenders,
and in a diary he'd write, hidden in his dresser.
They found out I was a bastard son.
Hunted me like a fox, all for fun.
I guess to them,
i'm just a joke,
with a very weak pun.
More abuse, do I deserve this? What's the excuse?
They knocked out a tooth, found themselves amused.
Oh well. You have me, I have you, what's that Diary?
I love you too.
Too tired, too weak, sorry diary lets both get some sleep.
Well, I still have you at least.
I'm worn, i'm sore, I can't fucking take this anymore.
My body feels dead, my soul feels torn.
Did I fire the first shot to ignite this war?
I wish for their anger, there was a cure.
Your are my refinery, you
Angels With Cut Off WingsMy angels with the cut off wingsAngels With Cut Off Wings2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And the wounds which still bleed
You're suffering from the stings
And the causing evil deed
My angels with the cut off wings
You're yearning for the sky
The melody of your pain sings
To me, like a bird unable to fly
My angels with the cut off wings
I tried to stop the running blood
Wanted to dry up sorrow's springs
And to lift you up from the mud
My angels with the cut off wings
You mistook me for an angel like you
But I'm just human with faked things
On my back, who will fall down, too
My angels with the cut off wings
I want be your support, not your stress
Yet, I want your trust without strings
So here I am in great distress
My angels with the cut off wings
Despite distance you are here with me
Easing the pain from death's stings
There's no 'you' and 'me', but a 'we'.
My angels with the cut off wings
I know we can make it through
Everything the future brings
Together, for that I thank you!
If I kiss youWhat if I kiss you?If I kiss you3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What if I pull you close?
And whisper you the truth
Will you say “I love you”?
Because you shine light into this dark room
I wish I could turn the whole world to slow-mo
Just so I could see this beautiful flower bloom
Maybe then you’d see how much you mean to me
I go on my days with my heartfelt thoughts
Warmth is what you’ve brought into my feather heart
And all of this just feels like the start
I know that one day, we will never be set apart
a lie that tells the truthplease don’t write me as a ghost girl,a lie that tells the truth2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all blurry lines and faded features
that caricature themselves into the minds
of those that think they see me--
i am not a canvas.
my life is not a blank sheet for you
to paint your vision across,
and i have no wires in my bones--
you cannot pose me so i’ll catch the light
like a kaleidoscope of clever quirks
and tragic backstories;
i am written in the words i discard
when i write bad poetry at 3am, and if you look,
you can find me echoed back to you
in my all time top five favorite movies.
i am the way my hands hurt
when i get nervous;
i am the urge to speak italian,
even though after a year of classes, i can barely
i am the calmness that hits
when i smell cigarettes, even though
i’ve never smoked,
and i am the grudges that have lingered
because i forget to let things go,
and i am the passive-aggressive comments
that i should be sorry for, but
never really am.
if you want, you can trace your pen along
KnowledgeIn a fever dream, black dooms descendingKnowledge4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He lies rapt in stupor.
The windows tilt from his halo, the dry
heat ticking, each death rattle measures light into
reflections- form a periscope. One eye is all
that is needed to see. People
stutter along streets, gloom draped. Voices
soften and stretch, heard through memory and dreaming-
one hundred shadowy watchers meld to tarmac. Only one enters.
Yard lights convulse, scald twilit moments, birds
settling on flares. He blinks,
old as time- skin a coral of waxes, leather from his own glow. Eyes,
molten yolks still glimmer beneath lids, fat sunken. She watches,
notes of orange blossom form
a noose: all her palettes collide. She mothers
all earth- cannot . A beginning with no end, future, past.
Roots run transatlantic, languages bud- tiredness. Immortal,
he doesn't breathe.
He wakes to light dappled through glass and birch.
He was the oldest and the first,
his house heavy with rotting decades. TV
translated static into prayers, sun-blea
Green InkShe writes with green inkGreen Ink2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
eternal scrawls upon the page.
She wrote with green ink,
because it was the color of his eyes,
and the pond in the park,
and the seats on the bus,
and the grass outside,
and rose stems.
She wrote with green ink
even when her boss yelled
and the teacher screamed
and nothing worked out.
Because green was her favorite
and it was his favorite as well
even when he was sick while
his skin was green.
He still loved the color green
when the dirt fell down
when he didn’t recover,
the grass that bloomed
was the most angelic jade.
And she still wrote in green ink
because it was the color of the grass,
and his favorite color
and the color of his eyes
on his last final days.
autopsyher spine was cracked down the middle,autopsy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her skin unraveled at the seams.
bloated lungs and an emaciated heart filled her no longer moving chest.
her eyes were still open
and her hands stretching for the last thing she ever saw,
though she'd never reached it.
no one knew the exact cause of death,
except the shadow of a boy who avoided her funeral
like it was a plague.
like she was the plague.
.she became a seabed no.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
anchor could grip, with a
habit of turning everything
into a shipwreck
Tears like acidevery tear leaves a scar, not on your face butTears like acid3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on your soul. that's why people can keep living
in bliss. that's why we can close our eyes to the
things we don't want to see.
that's why we don't notice the boy crying on the
bus. close to breaking. because we don't want to
know of his pain. that's why we don't notice the
girl struggling to wipe the tears away before she
takes seat in her mother's car.
that's why we close our eyes. It's easier that way.
but what if you could actually see the scars?
would we still live in bliss? or would we find new
excuses to keep up the charade?
maybe we would start a new trend? make everyone
hide their faces. so tomorrow when you walk down
the street, everyone wears masks to hide. maybe
our ideals would change as well?... from skinny
girls and beefy guys to people who don't have scars.
to people who can take off their mas