He Thinks By FireCastlesHe Thinks By Fire12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Set the scene in Vienna, Rome
Tripoli - countries in cities.
Restaurants in the shade.
Men in chairs
With white straw hats, the sun curve
Of the day, and buzzing of motors on
Family visits an old man.
A hearty dinner, the sun a shine on the glass.
She says tell
Like you used to.
The boys poke the ground,
Fiddle with the earth,
Before he sighs.
I sign in blood.
A column splits, spoken
Ramparts, assailed corridors.
Degraded anarchs in the veins.
I hear Fire.
Random chaos in
The voi- voi- Void.
And my entry read:
'Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate!'
Abandon all hope, ye who enter!
The stun is complete. Boys caught moving
Sag down and shake.
She asks why? How?
And he repeats, numbly:
Abandon all hope, ye who enter.
CondimentsCondiments10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A horse snorting wildly at the slightest slither;
we are natural enemies, ankle-biting snake against
fetishized freedom, all hair. You pepper-eating poets
seduce me every time. Against my character, might
I add: My nostrils are as dilated
as they've ever been, to detect the slightest hint
of movement from you, a stirring and then
the anatomy of the thing will emerge.
Laundry List: Please buy
Tide, the catalogue of the human soul,
self-cutting. You might crumple up the writing
and swallow it like a spy,
but burning toast is no career, my friend. Perhaps
that bitch poetry is a necrophiliac, never letting dead
archetypes sleep. Yes, I know that Helen has launched
ships from: Vietnam, world wars, the Midwest,
which is landlocked. But you cannot kill the
fat-fingered fairies, the delicate forms. Rapunzel,
Rapunzel, let down your standards! I will give you
a dose of your own medicine, and like a cancer
MotherMother11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Mother wakes at five thirty in the morning
even Sundays, though the newspaper hasn't been delivered
to me sitting at the top of the stairs.
She squints at me with Hitchcock eyes,
says that my bathwater is turning light gray, it's time to get in.
Sundays, we go to church, which isn't-just-a-social-thing-young-lady.
I'm here because I would neverever ask for anything else
if she bought me a dog.
It dawns, and her voice percolates my future, drip
drip drip, we say Scholarship.
I have a hard time knowing her
without her glasses
and her makeup in its technicolor glory.
She drives me to school every day, to save on parking.
Trucks and equinoxes blow past us as I stare out the window,
drawing pictures in the condensation with my thumb.
She says did you know that Beethoven
never saw the sea? Later we should go to the beach,
she'll show me a picture of a furtive flute of a girl
in a poodleskirt and a yellow-spattered room.
We can walk up and down the sand together
but it also meansIt's mundane,but it also means9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the soda aisle
and my wandering, walking up
then down. I frown to distract.
And buy the soda you love
because you might, you
might be here to have it. Though
with I need a drink.
I don't need a drink.
The same strength, faux-weak
ness that I will always have,
and tell myself I learned from you.
I buy it, afraid I won't like the taste,
or maybe I will and it'll be there
for a few days squishing along inside me.
It's just fucking soda, but it also means
I still love you.
OldDustKidTakesAShowerOldDustKidTakesAShower12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
vacant plates and empty stomachs sneer
Through their glossy shine, just having been licked clean
By everything you've ever said
Cores strike like drums when they are sincere.
Times your ribs can beat my brains out… so maybe
I shouldn't lay so close when hearts and
hearts strike together, to make puzzle
the head that stayed so well.
It used to be safe to sit on my glass chest,
that keeps the papers of yesterday.
They still read the same, just invite a different sense to stay.
Like showing embryonic love in letters (lost in box.);
It's the one drop that stains blue lines and ink
for every hundred that sit and burn my cheeks.
But the dust kids don't recognize when the shower turns on,
just that while in the tub… they are wet
The salt in their eyes scald them more
In their shallow tummies, then their blind
Glass balls could ever stomach
The Writer: ForewordThe Writer: Foreword11 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I was first aware of the peculiarities of Norman Potter's case when a guard told me he had made a pen of himself. I was then requested to turn over my own pens and notebook before seeing him.
In my 24 year tenure at Belleview Institution, I have learned to quickly adapt to avoid any of the nuances—unnecessary tapping or other noises, looking into the eyes for too long, etc.—that may trigger an adverse reaction in a patient. In a place so criminal, so volatile, it is a simple rule of survival. Even so, I had never been forced to relinquish my own tools. Going in with only my suitcase and a tape recorder made me feel stripped, almost vulnerable.
I entered the interview room, known as the "board room" to other staff in the ward. It's simple, white-walled, and nearly taken up by a long, executive-style table. It adds a small sense of grace to an otherwise sterile, fluorescent-lit box, but its real purpose is separation. The length limits my exposure to whatever ill wind might be blowing ac
Consejos para designersConsejos para designers7 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
10 cosas que no te enseñan en tu escuela de diseño
El paso del mundo académico al laboral es siempre difícil, particularmente para quienes trabajamos en el campo del diseño porque nos vemos obligados a aprender las condiciones en las que se trabaja sobre la marcha.
Este post recoge 10 cosas que habitualmente no te enseñan pero deberías saber para dar el salto al mundo profesional.
1. Tu diploma no te ayuda a encontrar trabajo
Pero tu portafolio sí. Por supuesto que es bueno tener una educación en diseño y un título que lo pruebe, pero cuando se trata de obtener dinero de tus clientes ellos quieren ver de lo que eres capaz, no un diploma.
2. El buen diseño lleva tiempo, no fijar fechas límites muy ajustadas
Cuando estás en la escuela de diseño los profesores fijan las fechas de entrega de los trabajos y tratan de darte el tiempo suficiente. Tu jefe o tu cliente no serán como tu profesore
MemoriesMemories are for the young and oldMemories7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
To share with others or just to hold
Until we need to remember when
Be it now or be it then
We felt so good or shed a tear
Felt some love or angst or fear
But bring together what we may store
Of days gone by and many more
The Man Who Would Chase WinterA man who tore at my mindThe Man Who Would Chase Winter6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like a half-forgotten dream;
pieces of ideas burning,
tugging my thoughts to him as a child.
For a moment, the present would not exist;
our world of dreams more real
than the world around me. Another gift
from him to me.
I remember late phone calls,
strung together as lanterns;
the only thing
that brightened the winter in my heart.
I was a risk not many would have taken,
with tears caught in my throat
and a howling in my head.
You gave me air
when I couldn't find my lungs
but love isn't a respirator.
I still have tears trapped in my throat
and I gasp for air occasionally
but the howling has grown faint.
Sometimes a man tugs at my mind again,
I remember lanterns
and a world of dreams, all our own.
Everyone FallsEveryone Falls11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You uproot the browning trees,
anger at the kidnapping of Persephone,
anger that everything grows.
Lightning flashing from your eyes
could be better used to raise Lazerus
or even a stitched together monster.
Better used to rake the dead into a pile
to jump into and feel the prickles of leaf wafers
crackling into your cranium.
Better to grab a handful of the intruding grass
and play God to the ants.
Run your pencil fingers
down the spine of a shady nymph,
who is losing her hair with every passing day
and wish she could spring to life
or uproot the dead.
She's wrinkled, sure,
and burned from the sun,
but she is smiling still
as you rip her arms off her body.
Remember the dust
from crushed leaves.
and inhaled by all.
Christmas-TimeHark I hear the Angels singChristmas-Time7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of Christmas-time and bells to ring
The mistle-toe is hung on high
to kiss our love who wander by
Eggnog served to quench our thirst
Carols sung so tuned and versed
Tinsel is spread across the land
In anticipation to withstand
The waiting and the gifts we see,
wrapped beneath the Christmas tree
We hold the decorations of years gone past
Of hope and faith and families vast
Who share the table of feast and fare
To show our love to those who care
Of what this day does really mean
From whence we came and what we've seen
To give to others and seek no more
Than love and family and smiles galore
A day that comes but once a year
Brings all together to share the cheer
So clasp a hand and fill a heart
With memories past and a brand new start
Of giving and sharing what is simple and true
A day of Blessings for Me and You
RealizationWho am IRealization6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I ask myself
Each and every day
Who sees me
With open eyes
In a very special way
Who hears me
The words I speak
And listens with intent
Who loves me
For who I am
Within the moments spent
Simple questions but so obscure
The answers hard to find
Searcing and believing
for love within our kind
A never-ending quest we're on
To find what makes us whole
To bring some solace to our heart
and serenity to our soul
Our inner beauty is what makes us real
and gives substance to who we are
A gift that's given when we're born
and admired from those afar
Be content with all your perplexities
and the place in life you share
Stand out and never be afraid
To show you really care
Too often feelings are kept inside
and never see the light
It is up to us to make our world
seem beautiful and bright
I have answered all my questions
and thank you every day
For seeing and hearing and loving me
in every special way
Surface SilenceSurface Silence11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Bitten talons snatch out
the cotton in your candy,
dipped in acid,
they claw at your bile duct.
"Come play awhile?" I ask
with eyes aflame and a daggered throat,
hoping you say no
because your silky milk voice
won't turn this gold into straw.
"In distress," you say,
"Is how I like them. With
a ripe pomegranete mouth open
and a torn seafoam dress,"
you serpent-tongued your lips,
"I've always wanted
to fuck Aphrodite."
Icicle teeth of mine melt away
to oil puddles dripping down my chin.
I swallowed my tongue
and you were pinned
by your rib.
Even I remembered when smiles
weren't pocked by impatience
and the sun glowed like the moon
Don't Cry[Intro]Don't Cry10 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Sometimes she hurts so much
She wants to die
She thinks she's not worth enough
I tell her not to cry
It seems like the sky is falling
Her whole world is crumbling
She wishes she had wings
So she could fly...
It seems when the pain comes
She wants to fly
Fly away to a place where she's loved
To someone which she can rely
Well, now she's hurt all the time
She wants to escape this dreadful life
She sees the city lights
That's where she belongs
It seems the whole world
Is against her life
She's being abused all the time
I tell her to try
Don't go home
It's not the right place
It's a nightmare
Get your car keys out
And drive away
Go towards the city lights
There's nothing left to say
There's no need to cry...
You're free now
So, don't cry
The songI am a singerThe song8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Who sings with no words.
Who cries with no tears.
I am the one that makes
The stars come out tonight
Im the one that ends all frights
So sing with me.
With your heart and soul
Sing for all the bad
So it becomes forgotten and old.
Smile while you sing
Dream while you live
Believe while you fall
Fight your ways
And break all the walls!
Free your mind
So you may grow
Gray and old
But young of soul.
See the world shatter
Thru the hollow skies.
Forget the world
Like the lord of the flies
But remain true
And never go blue.
So sing in silence
Sing to yourself
Because only you
Is who is
Important to the world.
Of the ones you love.
So they nay share
Either your glory
Or even your pain.
I am a singer
Who sing songs
That nobody knows
That dreams nothing at all
Because life is a dream.
That is meant to be lived.
I am a singer, and also a sinner.
The Safety of Familiar ObjectsThe Safety of Familiar Objects11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Splinters puncture membrane-covered clouds
time and time again her yellow breath
of smog and fog and ink on wet newspapers
sticks to black asphalt covered with May-colored sprinkles
and geometric daffodils unsnapping necks.
A condom wrapper defies the suckwhirl tide and clings to driftwood
and bangles of sky glimmer in a rainbow collapse
of oil. There's metal in her nostrils and linoleum in her eyes;
she slips piles of nails and bloody slime down my throat
along with percussive bells and a flower like stained napkins.
What is this thing called LoveWhat is this thing called Love?What is this thing called Love9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What is this thing we call Love?
For such a small word it holds fathoms of meanings.
You can love a piece of music, a particular film,
A favourite chocolate bar, many love their beds!
Love is found everywhere in the world:
From the love of a god,
To the gentle caress of a lover's hand.
The heart- the centre of all life- is its symbol.
The part of us all that swells and breaks
At the whim of a feeling.
Many claim that love is the most powerful force on earth.
A war was fought because of Paris's love for Helen,
Romeo and Juliet died for each other-
Unable to love someone else.
Some of the world's greatest poets were inspired by it.
Austen penned some of the best known love stories,
Shakespeare wrote plays and sonnets dedicated to it.
It can make the heart soar with joy and ecstasy,
It can turn a sane mind mad, a body break with grief.
Love is a mysterious thing: it makes things seem clear as day,
Or can fog the truth and hide the meaning.
What is this thin
Time To Heal..Time To Heal..6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I didn't think I was beautiful
No-one ever told me
and once they did
I never believed them.
My mind held me captive
in a place of denial.
Wanting to believe
but being afraid too.
A terrible place to be,
filled with insecurities
As I grew older,
my outside beauty faded
and my inner beauty shone,
but left me with many regrets
and precious moments lost.
Walking me backwards,
instead of forwards
My mind in a tangled mess
of what-ifs and maybe's.
A clouded sensation of
living, but being dead as well
So here I am stuck in today,
hoping for a better tomorrow
and wishing for my yesterdays.
I will not cry for I am strong,
yet too weak to move on.
To see the real me
and love myself for who I am.
Not for what the mirror shows
but what my heart should know..
volcanic glasslatin can not describe the electricityvolcanic glass7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of blue veins suspended in cala lily skin. they fan out,
protazoic, dormant beneath a sea of iced flesh.
i grip the sink, peroxide strands of kelp washing up
on the banks of my shoulders like
the white-gold sunshine
that would prism behind your chinook arch
with all the beauty of a nuclear winter.
for the transplant of my frontal lobe
to the heaven above his stratus comforter, instructions
have been written. next time he is carried in on a foen wind i am to
one, stand very still
two, present my brain to the sky
wait for the apricots
of sunrise to settle
into the overcast of his eyes.
i practise a little and wish i had a veinous hum, skeptical
that an electrocardiogram could detect a beat.
The Black Hole VicinityMy pulse no longer beatsThe Black Hole Vicinity5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in tune with every honk
and my feet are out of place
with your walk;
I can barely keep up.
This city numbs my very bones
and I write but cannot talk;
the words keep freezing in my mouth.
I shuffle and shiver,
grinding my teeth at night,
while every other cog
is moving, moving, moving
and I am fully stopped.
Static PauseStatic Pause11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The light would break over
Time's arc (for it surely did
fly, although not like we intended) and all,
that is to say all,
the ripples in the clouds' fingernails
were painted with hose streams.
And hey! these
superficial wounds will heal,
it's merely the white noise in my ears
that hurts my brain (never you) so
don't fret; don't
Heaven must have had a
cavity today for she is quite numb and
dribbling all over your window
(I'd offer a kerchief to clean the mess but
you know how I lack in chivalry). Well,
things will look up
(or down, if you live
belowthecrotchoftheworld) and I daresay
the freezing will wear off in due time.
and I, but mostly it was
would split lips over broken teacups and
silently watch an earthquake devour the rainforest,
I think our pollution might
be only t