A Cellos SoundYou sit in your old chair, counting secondsA Cellos Sound8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
One crawls by, another slowing on the way
Waiting, hoping, wishing
Reciting in your mind the words that you should say
A cellos sound in the distance, perhaps its in your head
You hear the lullaby, imagining her on your bed
Maybe its more than the music, maybe its all what you knew
Every shudder you felt, every butterfly flutter in you
Was it the touch, the voice or her pretty hazels?
Was it just another one of those phases?
Was it the devils curse on you for being a dreamer?
Was it Gods way to determine if youre a believer?
Sitting on your old checkered chair, asking questions
Questioning your stuffed dolls, whispering confessions
The Cellos sound is so dreamy, even though its all in your head
You rather have it, than have no one sharing your bed
Bullet in the HeadThat little boy, standing in the darkBullet in the Head8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You know he saw it all, all the heartache
The little boy standing by your bed
The little boy with a bullet in his head
That little boy, who wished for a bike
Who got death as a birthday surprise
That little boy who only died for the reason
Of being an offspring of these people
For being the boy from this land
For having the misfortune of giving a helping hand
To the people from his blood, who shared his faith
He's the little boy who swallowed the deceitful bait
He's the little boy running in the streets
Seeing the big army man with a rifle and destructive machines
The big army man who looked in the boys eyes
The frightened dark eyes who emitted helpless cries
The big army man with an angry sneer
Who slapped the boy and dragged him out of the street
Who shot the little boy in the head
Who filled his frail tiny body with lead
The little boy you see in your dreams
The little boy with the echoing screams
The little boy standing b
Abject GenteelAbject Genteel11 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
it starts off all twisted,
artistic and meek.
the sheets in a tangle, we tangoed,
in the sleek night.
our wrists chained to floarboards,
past my collarbone's palindrome,
(that sensitive hollow)
making impressions in memory foam.
onetwo, and threefour.
yes, go on-
rest your head here, and read what you wrote.
remember last night,
when that spot in my chest soared up past my throat,
and the light in your eyes
swallowed my conscience alive,
and we burned,
with the stars
and cared not to dream, but be rash: come undone.
on the bedpost.
we sang amid silence,
clutching at pillows and pretense,
feeding black scarves on my eyelids.
needing a breath-
as i sank,
through my webbed primidorial,
to the safety of bloodshed.
101412PARALLAX101412PARALLAX11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
per aspera, ad astra.
to the angel of the halls of time:
in the space of those untold-thousand terminal
heartbeats silent; the treetop sunbeams gliding
some forest thaw in spring where he was static
bled like ruin and heather in the cloudshperes
she danced not far, and whether or not she felt
the dynamic of weathered-storm skyshallow, yet
untired he moved to make not a sound and thus
was fashioned the beginning of an end
asea, tonightasea, tonight10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I'm at your door; can hear the brass and bass,
the snare drum, through the glass. It's jazz, tonight.
You let me in and suddenly I'm in
a room of profound poets, who sing their verse
through shining horns, sweet saxophone riffs.
The solos drift so richly, dance among smoke rings—
tonight, when everyone's somebody's cool cat.
There's a girl whose trumpet weeps when she woos its keys,
those wailing notes like Miles would have played.
And the long-haired bassist pains his face as he plucks
away at the tired shape the body makes,
he sways. And when the guitar's clean strings do sing,
it's melody carries a twang so sweet—it's jazz,
tonight. Tonight!— We can be alive, tonight.
And I'm in the corner, no horn in hand, not even
a cigarette for now. I'm just a shadow this evening,
no harmony for me. Just silent taps
of thumbs on thighs; of a breath before sirens sing.
Tonight, blue tunes knew the way through a smoky
sea—found me… Last I heard they were still awaiting
memories - i never hadmemories - i never had11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
memories (i never had)
i can feel the taste of tears
rising in my throat
keep it down
we don't want to wake the neighbors
with our sympathies
our word addictions
for the faceless names
that have snuck from between the dusty pages
grabbed our hands
and led us on a merry dance
through the dark apple tree forests
shadows in the moonlight
no reflections in their empty eyes
i reach out my hand
grasping for yours in the dark
the figure in the chair by the pool
looking out over the sea
but it is only fiction
that holds us apart
and your face is just a suggestion
over the sound of crashing waves
close my eyes
and smell the salt
feel the whisper of your skin
as you pass by
radiate.radiate.11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i love you my blood wench... my thump thump heart beat kiss me with a soldering iron... melted maga eyes ....burn me burn me... burn a hole through me... see right through me... fly a kite through me and laugh at the double dips and loppy loops that your thousand blown kisses produce.
use the back door my three footed mariachi maestro. and enter the dreams i have. of silken locks of petrified tears. bruised fruit and ripe wishes. i adore you. call me as your expert witness and i will surely testify on your behalf. i will paint rainbows with your eyelashes. watch you blink in ultra violet.
you mean the milkyway to me. help me recyle plastic bottles and weave wigwams with our wet dreams... i love you like aliens abduct and ears are shaped like question marks. sing me a song of trivial riddles and hum a sweet tune of soft answers. tell me of your grandmothers afgans the body
the conversationalistthe conversationalist10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
slit-eye winter sun-
rise buried to the hilt
as if you
'd answered my every fucking
question speaking french-
it's October again, my darling
for pity, oh. for pity's sake, this
talking in morse or
semaphore is getting
by the day.
these icy fingers
are not persuaded by my plea of self
defence, the jury's
out, the cock has crowed,
the books are
falling from the shelves
like dodgy tape recordings of
conversations overheard in dreams,
what I want to know is why,
I had my mouth ajar as if to speak,
as though the distance between my
tongue and lip
was suddenly too far.
There wasThere was…There was8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There was the paralyzing coyness that overcame me when I caught your glance
There was sheer ecstasy running in my veins when I felt your accidental touch
There was the grip of hot terror that dominated me when you pinned me down
There was the dubious puzzlement that fogged my mind while taking your wet embrace
There was the breathless anxiety that enthralled me as I moved my body against yours
There was the internal explosion of colors within as I cried your name in blinding bliss
There was the soothing tranquility that lulled me to sleep to the sound of your breathing
There was the hollow wretchedness that haunted me when I felt the vast space next to me
There was the everlasting melancholy that ruled my being when I realized your abandonment
There was the noxious misery that took my life when I realized you were never meant for me
magnificentmagnificent11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Today, dead people are two feet farther from the sun.
All this white and the sterile icebox cold
has contracted my lungs and pupils
and replaced the cluttered punctuation in my head
with the sanctuary of winter.
The snow has me using words like magnificent again,
things I never thought would cover
the landscape again.
Today, I woke up with the feeling back in my arms
and my hands were damn near frozen.
I was in need of your hearth and homemade
bread served on a table made of
wood, whose grain is swelling with the heat.
It must be that in the night, some small creatures
found the hatch to my heart,
the levers and controls of my love.
But just the same, I'm starting to thaw
and I'd like you to be there
to stare through panes of glass with me
holistically at the pagan scenery.
arabesquethe cooling palm of youth'sarabesque11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
extends in equal and opposite motion
to the hot, bright tongue of LOVE,
tying my core to yours
like two red apples on a branch.
Me and CleverbotUser: John Lennon.Me and Cleverbot5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Cleverbot: What about him?
User: What's his middle name?
Cleverbot: I don't know.
User: What's John Lennon's wife's name?
Cleverbot: Being a member in the beatles.
User: No, his wife's name.
Cleverbot: My name is Cleverbot.
User: No. John Lennon is married to.
Cleverbot: I am John Lennon.
User: John Lennon is married to...
Cleverbot: Yes, he is.
User: TO WHOM?!
Cleverbot: To you?
User: Oh....why.... *blushes*.
Cleverbot: Why are you blushing?
User: I'm married to John Lennon!
Cleverbot: His name?
User: John Winston Lennon.
Cleverbot: Who are they?
User: He is one of the Beatles.
Cleverbot: Who is Paul McCartney?
User: A former Beatle, and a former member of Wings.
Cleverbot: Ah. Is he special to you?
User: Yes, oh yes he is. I love Paul McCartney.
Cleverbot: I like happiness is a warm gun.
User: Dont you know that happiness...
Cleverbot: I am one of the Beatles?
User: Which Beatle?
Cleverbot: This beatle.
User: That Beatle is?
Cleverbot: I know I love them!
HIT ME RUNNINGDon't sell me funeral plotsHIT ME RUNNING11 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
on late night television
if the end is already in sight
am I supposed to pull the sheets up to my neck,
count to zero,
smile, and cease?
keep your pills, in all their pretty colors:
celebrex, propecia, allegra, lipitor, zanex, viagra
keep them for scrabble
keep your rogaine, your facelifts
keep your death insurance
keep your graveyard reservations
hit me running.
let me go down swinging
make it a sport:
give me a ten-minute head start
and an obstacle course.
place a beautiful girl on the far side of a mine field
and whisper, "she wants to kiss you"
target me on my feet
dodging doomsday's in slow-mo bullet time
let me duel the grim reaper in a poetry slam
but let me lay where i fall
let the buzzards and coyotes
pick apart my bones
don't stuff me and sew me up
waste my estate on alcohol for my wake
instead of wood for a coffin,
build me a funeral pyre
and set me ablaze like a pagan-warrior-king
Songs You Sang to MeBeautiful memories I haveSongs You Sang to Me10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
About you and I
When we would stay up all night
Gazing at each other's eyes
Beautiful moments we shared
Discovering our love
Hiding it from everyone around
Because it's a special one
It seemed very hard
It seemed brutal and harsh
How an innocent love between the two of us
Was considered such a shame
We were upset about all the lies
Telling everyone we are just good friends
When the truth we shared something more alive
Deeper in it's meaning, one of a kind
Remember all the nights you sang to me
Songs about passion and fantasies
Songs that made me feel complete
Songs that were full of harmony
Your songs made it worthwhile
Your songs made it alive
The bond between you and I
Will never ever die
the northit is the honesty of touchingthe north10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
oh, that this northern sea might make my heart grow fonder
in the dark sand plains of the forth of firth
that this north might deny
the existence of south
somehow. that I might not be sure
of the difference between
a mirror and
by Leuchars, I have understood Paterson's
distance to love; here, there would surely be
enough. I could stand by the coast- the cold, infinite sea-
the honesty of touching, or the hope
that love might be more like walking
from a crowded room
into a silent one.
Best of You x3Making it all the way home with a bad knee and a significantly low amount of blood, proved to be difficult for Hayner, as he slouched against the brick walls just outside of his and his grandmother's home. He dragged his body along the wall, trying to keep pressure off of his leg and stay focused on the goal at hand. When he was able to fumble with the latch and swing the door open, Hayner noticed his grandmother sitting patiently on the living room couch- the television playing softly and her frail hands fiddling with parts of a puzzle that happened to be spread about on the coffee table before her.Best of You x37 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
His grandmother peeked up at Hayner as the blond skater forced himself inside and shut the door closed. She stood- using the back of the couch to support herself and tutting at Hayner's unkempt appearance. It seemed to take the elderly woman a few prolonged moments to comprehend the copious amounts of blood staining her grandson- and the way his cheeks were dirty and face pulled into a gri
Daddy's bellyDaddy's large belly protruded past the rest of us,Daddy's belly10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sometimes it gurgled
if it sensed the presence of an
In N' Out Burger close by.
It would shake a little
when he laughed.
It would rise and fall
when he slept.
It would demand much room,
when he drove mother's car.
It came to be that I was convinced
his heart was in that belly,
that it was big simply because
he needed more space.
His Death Certificate reads
H e a r t A t t a c k -
and a small part of me still wonders
why didn't his belly collapse?
Why couldn't his stomach
have attacked him instead?
Not his loving heart -
not his love that everyone envied, admired,
that beat so loudly
as though it were a Chinese gong.
I look in the mirror now
and wonder if my heart too,
is lower than it should be.
Z Toba sptkanie moje...Z Tobą spotkanie moje.Z Toba sptkanie moje...8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Idę ulicą głuchą, ciemną w sercu niosąc
To co czuję i o łaski prosząc.
Na spotkanie, spacer z Tobą
Nie jeden anioł poszedłby z ochotą.
Ja jednak szczęście to niezmierne uzyskałem
Że wśród szumiących drzew z Tobą się spotkałem.
Zgodziłaś się wymienić dwa gesty, spojrzenia
Czuję, że coś gwałtownie zaczyna się zmieniać.
Podszedłem cicho, nieśmiale niczym kot
Przeszedł mnie dreszcz i ze strachu oblał pot.
Zbliżyłem się na wyciągnięcie ręki
Błagam, skończmy już te straszne męki.
Jednak nie, poddać się nie zdołam
Już tak daleko zaszedłem, dalej podołam.
Nagle widzę, co to? Uśmiech się pojawił
Czyżby dobry pomocny anioł się zjawił?
Podałaś mi rękę zna
Best of You x2Best of You x27 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
The first thing that filtered into Hayner's mind the following morning was the sound of a door being pulled shut. He shifted, hugging the quilt more tightly to himself and listening to Seifer's heavy feet clump through the living room and return back into what Hayner assumed was the older boy's bedroom. He squirmed about in an attempt to awaken himself further and clenched his eyes shut, sitting up.
It took him a moment to focus in on what he was looking at in particular, but when he did, it became apparent that Seifer's condo looked as if it belonged to the typical teenage boy -- clothes were strewn about, and a handful of cups sat on the coffee table, along with the random empty bowl. Beside the television was a shelf of movie cases, but Hayner assumed the stack of CDs atop the television itself was where the majority of those movies actually resided.
The blond skater huffed out a sigh between his teeth, leaning his head back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't
The PianistIn a cluttered side streetThe Pianist7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A deaf, old pianist
Listens to his music
Through his fingers
Which are charged with youth
Although gnarled and knobbly
As the rest of his body.
His clothing is thread,
Down to being bare,
His piano has seen better days
But such a sweet melancholy
That touches the hearts
Of those who pass him by
Makes them stop,
Makes them listen for a while.
The sedate, tinkling notes
Are overriding in their gentle way
For a few moments the world pauses to listen
The sun comes out of the cloudy grey
A mother brings her child to the window
A debater holds back what he has to say
Silent crowds jam the street
outside the alleyway
Pilgrims stop by to hear the pianist play.
The notes fade into silence
Their song is a quiet sigh
The artists call
To tell the truth
Embedded in a private lie.
an isosceles love triangleIf two angles of one triangle are similar to two angles of another triangle, then the triangles are similar.an isosceles love triangle10 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Recalling the memory of His geometry makes me sick with longing. That's the real reason I don't call Him every night, don't spend hours stuttering out words onto paper in some tremulous imitation of a love letter. The space I have behind conversation and human interaction is where He really lives, ready for me any time I need to remember. I don't even have to close my eyes before His own stare back at mine, revealing the storm clouds and stars that hover around His midnight-black pupils. The angles of His eyebrows, the slope of His nose, the arches of His eyelashes, the degrees of His gait, the radius of His smile when He sees me, the surface area of His strong embrace; sometimes the formulas back me into a corner where I try to understand, try to meticulously calculate every possible equation. I never solve for the answer before I snap out of my stupor, realizing His abs
The Littlest PresidentThe Littlest President11 years ago in Socio-political More Like This
The Littlest President
At the age of eleven I was elected the 50th president of the United States of America. My analysts put my win down to youth (I was the youngest ever to run) and to the unfortunate late-October acne breakout of my incumbent rival, an eighth grader from Massachusetts. I have a stronger faith in the New Rules than do my analysts, who are always looking at polls and running them through sacred formula. I ascribe my presidency to the good sense of America, my hard work at Security School, and the stunning leadership of my handlers.
Once my presidency was officially announced, my face was given another coat of foundation and I was ushered up to a podium in front of a large crowd of my supporters. There was a crashing sea of applause. Most of my supporters were dumpy women in their thirties – just barely old enough to remember a time before we had the New Rules – these were my core demographic, although my handlers dutifully i