Green InkShe writes with green ink
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.
I'll Just Say What's On My Mind...I’ll just say what’s on my mindI'll Just Say What's On My Mind...2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
For everyone to hate.
I used to cry myself to sleep
And slice my skin with blades.
I wrapped a belt around my neck
In hopes of lifelessness,
And after failing even that,
I remained emotionless.
My mother used to cry all day
And my dad used to be ill.
My sister attempted suicide
By swallowing the pill.
My mother tried to kill herself
And we almost watched her fall.
She swallowed gulps of whiskey
And she blamed me for it all.
I have hallucinations,
And delusions, and depression
And fighting my own demons
Has become a slight obsession.
I’ll just say what’s on my mind
For everyone to see.
This is who I am, and hey!
I’m still okay with me.
PassionFor when the daughter experiences a firstPassion2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it is the passion she feels in the night.
For when the innocent is murdered against reason
it is the cry of a nation that can’t understand.
For when the son disturbs the peace of a day
it is the rage of parents that calm his youth.
For when the music carries upon the floor
it is the color of the dress the darling wears.
For when the veil drops and all is revealed
it is the pain of truth that becomes clear.
For when the last moment is seen
it is the suffering in the eyes that shows all.
For when the child breaks the toys they cherish so
it is the shade their face turns in anger.
For when the people call for devotion
it is the color that speaks for their cries.
For when the people make for a revolution
it is the red that stains the ground eternally.
Because when the people need a reason
it is the stain of a nation that botch the pure history.
HomeThis is homeHome2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where there are white walls
and doors that open from the outside.
This is home
where a jacket
holds one in place.
This is home
where an injection of whiteness
into the arms is normal.
This is home
where shock is common
and not treated enough.
This is home
where white skin
is never sun kissed.
This is home
where family doesn’t care
enough to visit or cry.
This is home
where bloodless administrators
deem themselves ‘help’.
This is my home
and I cannot leave.
Our Yellow RoomWe used to talk of everything that needed to be saidOur Yellow Room2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when we sat under the canopy of gold rays
gorgeous declarations of adventures to be were spilt.
We were going to get married under gold lilies
and speak of vows that we wrote for each other
while friends and family loved us together.
But when I wake in the morning because I can’t sleep anymore
the bed is cold underneath me while the lights are off
my fingers reach for a being that isn’t there with me.
The bed sheets are amber like the necklace you got me
the bedroom painted in a fit of creativity that was never finished
the wonderful color usually bouncing but now it is dusty.
‘Love, it seems that I’m sick’
you announced one day as if it was news of old
‘they say that I’m not going to make it through the holiday days’.
The yellow bedroom was less than bright
on the day that you came home with news
of things that would happen and what would change.
Your skin turned pale wi
Star-crossedYou woke up onStar-crossed2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the wrong side of
a cosmic bed
A pillow of
under your head
are all the tears
which you have shed
Your ring finger
in outer space
among a dreamed
Your light shines bright
but not enough
to seize the day
Let your love be
then I'll wish to
Red DressDon’t put on your red dressRed Dress2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.
The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress
Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.
A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.
Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn’t care for the meaning.
Put it away in the closet, and rarely wear
for he doesn’t deserve your dear red dress.
history remembers.i.history remembers.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
history repeats itself.
i realize this the fourth time i find myself on a couch
with the head of a boy i don’t know
between my stiff, nonresponding legs.
i realize this on the third sip of alcohol. on the fourth.
the fifth. the eleventh. the first time i black out. the eighth.
history repeats itself
and i am napoleon marching across russia
and i only pretend the water is poisoned.
i only pretend the earth is burned to ground.
i pretend that destruction is inevitable
and that help is not an option.
we got close, him and i.
sometimes you get so close to a person
you can feel their lips stiffen
when you try to kiss them.
sometimes you get close to a person,
under them, between damp sheets.
they never stop believing
that you are beneath them.
“help me,” he says. i say okay.
he tells me to sleep with him later
so i say the wrong name in bed,
but so does he;
he means it,
i say it because it’s the only way i can
Tastes Like...Daddy likes to make meTastes Like...2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Eat my words.
I see him hit Mommy
And I know she hurts.
So I tell him, to get her
He has to go through me.
And, well, I can no longer walk
And I can no longer see.
Daddy makes me eat my words
And reality starts to flood.
Yes, Daddy makes me eat my words…
And my words taste like blood.
you loved someone.i.you loved someone.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Chloe is nineteen when she dies.
She ends it with a shotgun
the night her brother gets out
They say he molested her
he raped nine women
ten eleven twelve women
they say no
it was nine little girls
ten eleven twelve
little girls, kids, the bastard.
he was a bad man
“No wonder she did it.
If he was my blood
I’d’ve done it, too.”
You go to the funeral
because that’s what good people
because your mother asks you
“You want to go to Heaven,
without looking up from her knitting
and you would laugh in her face,
but she’s your mother
and you love her
so you go.
A man you know stops you –
a friend of John’s –
John, who is not yours anymore
(even now, even in death,
you know he’ll keep her
longer than he kept you)
on your way to the bathroom.
“John really loved her, y’know,” the man says
as if you wouldn
Imaginary FriendsMy reflection in the mirror hates me,Imaginary Friends2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I know because she told me so.
She twists and turns and fogs the glass
bending unnaturally while moving with me
she pinches her skin and leaves blemishing marks
tearing off pieces she deems she does not need.
“Just wait,” she whispers as she bites her lip
“only so much longer and I can be free,”
her lips are bleeding again, but I’m brushing my teeth
“free to hurt and bend and break that wonderful body of yours.”
I can hear the whispers, I can hear her skin tearing.
She reaches up and touches the glass
and it bends under the brushing of skin
I finally speak with a tilt of the head
“Imaginary friends shouldn't be able to do that.”
listen:1.listen:2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
People will let you down.
You’ll love them, anyways.
Don’t let anyone romanticize
It won’t be beautiful
when somebody breaks your heart
the first time
or the second
or the eighteenth.
Pain is not beautiful.
Maybe on paper
but not inside of you
not in numbers.
A million people
but you’re still here,
and that's important.
You're doing something
My father told me
“Be selfish –
if you don’t take care of you
I liked to think
that this is the reason
he ignored me
I don’t have good advice
on this one.
Because the people who let you down,
are the ones promised to save you.
Are the ones promised to love you
and protect you
and I’ll tell you,
nothing quite hurts
like waking up in the morning
to the police in your doorway.
Nothing quite hurts
like being eleven
and hearing a cop say
“Poor girl had to live wi
Pinkthe boys gestured and jeeredPink10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
‘what’d you do to your hair?’
‘boys won’t like you now.’
she turned away, smiling all the while
head shaved and pink scarf in place
‘because it’s too hot’
‘I want a fresh start’
‘I never liked my long hair anyways’
but at home she cries
though the tears won’t fall
because it was shave
or watch it fall out
no one comments on the lost weight
or the bags gathering under her eyes
for she hides it with pink clothes and makeup
chemo starts she throws up in school
the teachers send her home, but her parents send her back
normal is a luxury they can’t afford to lose
pink ribbons on cars
the color a badge she earns
blinds her delicate eyes
pink roses on her grave
for when she lost the battle
but never gave up on the war
Bones mend, but tell no lies.You have cataloged your scarsBones mend, but tell no lies.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like your body is a library-
to be read through &
You think of
all the little boys
whose greedy fingers
You are angry-
cared for you
They left you
on a shelf
to gather dust.
should you ever
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
Lovely AnneI once met a girl named AnneLovely Anne3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and what a lovely girl was she.
She sat in corners and talked
and talked when no one listened.
While lovely Anne was so lovely
no one went near lovely Anne
and her never-ending talking.
Lovely Anne with black hair
and dark skin. Never listened
to the voice of society.
Lovely Anne talked of a world
so unlike our own.
No one went near her,
but everyone listened
to the thoughts of a wonderful world.
Lovely Anne lived in a world
where the clocks struck thirteen
where everyone loved
where everyone smiled
and tears were never shed.
The walls and floors
objects and papers
that she talked to day and night
held to her words
and wished for her world.
Poor Lovely Anne had no friends.
But lived in a world that was entirely her own.
Lovely Anne who never left her world
and thought reality was imaginary.
DieDie:Die2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Such a simple word, spewed without thought.
"I wish you'd die, I wish you'd be killed."
But what if we actually gave meaning to those words?
Can you understand the emotion, the magnitude, the weight,
Of actually seeing the life of an individual depart?
Can you look them in the eyes, as they bleed into your hands;
Observing their final moments, as the light fades from their eyes?
Or are you simply a soft-hearted coward,
Sitting fat behind a computer, wishing death upon others?
To say that one is deserving of death,
Suggests that you are ready to kill.
And if indeed you are ready to kill,
Then you too must be prepared to die.
"Now please, stop those tears my good man, we've only removed three of your toes so far (^_^)"
-Chen Yuan Wen, 9th July 2013
Victim of a John DoeDo you want to hear the storyVictim of a John Doe3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of how I died?
I promise it won't be boring
so if you would
just take a seat, have a drink
Past memories reach,
I met the most amazing man
who spun words of silver and gold
with a tongue more fine than silk.
He told me he could do no wrong
and I, young and foolish, believed him.
And when we went home,
his eyes shining with new excitement,
things were perfect.
Then it shattered.
Nothing more intense
than feeling my own blood
trickle down my body.
stares traveling down
blood spattered knife
a gaping wound
cries of shock
gleaming white smile
solid drops of blood
and fading light.
I knew him for one night
he disappeared the next.
To this day I am simply known
as the victim of a John Doe.
breaking a writer's heart.never break a writer’s heartbreaking a writer's heart.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
because your name
will forever belong to us.
you will sign it
into every broken bit
and one day, you’ll open a book
next to the words
"let me tell you about the time
i was hurt."
never break a poet’s heart
because between the beat
of the stanzas,
you’ll hear that heartbeat,
proving you wrong
with every line.
never break a writer’s heart
because we will take the pain
and make it into something
you could never live down.
you could live with heart monitors,
that measured the damaged pulse,
doctors who told you,
but you can’t live with the bold strokes,
smooth as a flatline,
that accuse you of being
the best thing
that’s ever happened to them.
you can’t live with it;
our soulmate, now writing.
You, now replaced
by a pen.
never break anybody’s heart
because you’ll cut yourself
on the pieces of it.
and see, hearts heal.
if i could.1.if i could.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i’ll be honest with you;
there is a certain authority to being
somebody said once that writers struggle with reality
because we spend all of our time
constructing our own.
the truth is, life may be impermanent
but the details are not.
time has one direction
the past cannot be revisited
and history cannot be redone
with a red pen.
what happens, happens.
we are walking permanent records
that can never be expunged.
no matter how many orphans we pull from fires
no matter how many dying children we sing to
we still made our mother cry once
we still let our little brothers find us passed out
on the front porch when we were nineteen.
imagination is our primary retreat
because there, that boy does fall in love with us
and our first kiss is not spit on our chins
or misses landing on our nose
(maybe there are waves crashing in the background)
and we say everything right.
there, we have crafted a version of ourselves
that lives perfectly.
“if i could,” someon
ShyIn my world there's fun and adventureShy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In your world I'm quiet
In my world when I talk, I don't hinder
In your world I hide it
I've got so much to say
I think of talking, but wont
You won't hear me anyway
I try, but then I don't
In your world you call it Shy
I want to come out
truly I try
but I hold back, no doubt
I just want to be friends
and make people grin
Watched it burnKing being murdered upon the throneWatched it burn2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dreams made out of solid stone
Learn to fly and learn to crash
Nightmares in a lightning flash
Life's what you get, not what you earn
Too bad you sat back and watched it burn...
a meaningful poem about nothing.this is a poem about how fixing peoplea meaningful poem about nothing.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is not romantic.
we’re not meant to be somebody’s answer,
we’re not meant to make someone feel alive again.
this is a poem about why you shouldn’t kiss him
because he’s broken
because you want to save him.
save yourself first.
kiss him because he holds a place in your heart, not
because he's the only thing making it pump.
kiss him because he’s in your life, not because
he is your life.
hold him, but don’t hold onto him because you believe
(get to dry land first.)
this is a poem about how i find poetry in everything.
breakups. my dad telling me i mattered.
nightmares. my neighbor’s insomnia.
how it drove him crazy.
how he swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills to fix it.
my neighbor’s funeral.
this is a poem about the split-apart theory.
the idea was that when humanity became arrogant
toward the gods, we were split in two
and were doomed to spend our live
NecromancyShe thinks there are nebulaeNecromancy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the rough of my gutter bones,
some stargazing sanctuary
for lonely outcasts to lay their heads.
I am but a car crash,
& red inked corrections
on crosshatched skin.
Made up of moans,
the clutching of bedsheets;
I am contemplating
ripping my ribs apart
I never had a heart at all.
But my moon shy love;
she is determined
to try & wake the dead.
The reason I stopped tryingI'm just going to stop trying.The reason I stopped trying2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Because you'll never understand.
I carry dreams inside a fist
While you hold cruelty in your hand.
I'm just going to stop trying.
Because I've been through so much hate
I've been through knives and ropes and scars
And wounds and blood and blades.
I'm just going to stop trying.
Because through all I've had to do..
The ignorance of people
Is the worst thing I've been through.
I'm just going to stop trying.
And you want to know the truth?
The reason I've stopped trying
Is because of those like