in the future. nowi cannot tell
whether or not
it's the weather
or my toes are
cold for other
on top of me
like all the
oceans and all
and dead things
and oil spills
and a need
it is only a romantic notion
a dream for a higher purpose
special things that seperate
there was something worth it
up there, you told me
no one would ever think to look for me
(i too, deserve the sun, sometimes, sometimes)
you asked never
you asked never to
never to sing
you asked never
never to sing
you asked never
never to sing
never to sing
never to sing that song to you
watercolour my eyes a song
over the mountains
hold my ears close
and berate brush strokes - to my
solidify words in my mouth
so hard and crystal sharp
they bleed into my stomach
and grow trees up my pipes
blooming you morning
on all my photographs
a decade ago i
-truth-will you meet me in the spaces-truth-8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
between our fingers
indivisible, but one
(and all the smaller pieces
that don't matter)
a hollow note
twenty minutes to dawn
(i know this because we've been here before)
in this moment, and this thing of arms and arms entwined, called embrace
this moment on soft notsosoft ground sheets
it's the same
and in this moment
this moment is again
and your voices
singing as the past
ceilings and walls
that do not house me
anymore, i hear you
you are farther away
when i am with you
than when we are
so far apart
i do not have a traditional clock
that could tick away the night
in even tones
to focus on
when i'm trying my hardest not to be awake
i only have digitalisations left
If you keep your eyes closedI start, but I begin to faulterIf you keep your eyes closed8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
catching myself on cliffs of wind chapped lips
gnawing uncertainty with white spears
(oh native tongue)
what's spinning you?
The bastard child that thinks I'm a yo-yo.
I begin again, only to fall into
the same too big for you shoes, same glazed (aspartame laced) over smile,
and you. you are... a loss of anything to say
i love the way i say ithow come perfection could be the smile of apology you made when you were always latei love the way i say it8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how come perfection could be
velocity isnt lost each time
the bounce has changed
there arent enough sides inside
my skull to play any
you in your mouthi am curious about youyou in your mouth7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
of course, i'd like
to know how many sugars
if any, i think i'd like
to know how well
done. but i'm not sure
of course, if i should be
curious (or otherwise)
if it is indecent
of me to speculate
ponder how much milk
wonder what textures
maybe i should wait
for the situation
to present itself
rather than spend
these days thinking
WaterI lap at your feet, welcoming you into my depths.Water6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Seducing your toes to step closer, wade further
Its a cool day, and I offer warmth and comfort
Begging you to swim, even though you know
That danger lurks with me
I entice your senses,
A single dance with the darkness
A sway into danger,
Cant be that bad,
Act of KindnessWARNING!!! This passage is a bit long! If your not sure you want to read it I suggest that you look at the description first! Please enjoy!Act of Kindness5 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I did something once for a boy that I never knew or had ever known, though I did see him every Friday. Our paths would slide by each other on that day. He stood on a corner near my school and smoked American Spirit. We wouldn't wave or acknowledge each other for the longest time. Then one day he wasn't there, and I found myself worried. Another week passed and he returned and I talked to him. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if he had not been the
Daddy is an artistDaddy doesnt need waterDaddy is an artist6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
For his bloody knuckles
To color pretty pictures,
He'll exhibit with pride when the work is done.
All he really needs
Are his eight red markers
To help him express the anger
He keeps bottled up inside.
Daddy is an artist and I am
Living proof of his ability
To cause pain.
My skin is a canvas you can use over and over again,
Welcome to the museum of horrors
Where you can admire the beauty
In every bruise, scrape and blood stain.
The ViolinistOz drew his bow across the violin's strings, testing the instrument's sound. The third string was a little off, so he turned a tuning peg and tried it again.The Violinist5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He opened his eyes and looked around him. The sun was beginning to set behind some of the few remaining skyscrapers-halves of skyscrapers, really-and the ruins of the city were tinted orange. The rubble here was old-he could always tell they were old by the few straggly plants that desperately thrust themselves up through gaps in the chunks of concrete that blanketed the ground. Old ruins had a smell, too, and a sound; a city newly destroyed was a painfully noisy place, buildings would continue to collapse, there was screaming and sirens, and the stench was always the same: blood and panic at first and then rotting flesh. That was, of course, assuming the bomb hadn't gone off in the city, but only near enough to destroy the buildings and kill the people.
But this place had seen its last radiation-poisoned soul perhaps a h
act i into(beauty)act i into8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
obscured into a blur
i become fluid with the silent
motion of the lines
my eyes are a continuing moment
along the spectrum of heard
seen tasted felt
this is the wonder of is
i miss the genesis
the before the flood
the fluid motion
of calling home the birds
with a scattering of seeds
the tips of your hair
dapple bright ecstasies
on your reflection
they drip the terror
from your throat
a tracing of your skin
under my skin print
injects memory into my fingers
and solidifies in silence
it was raining when-
it was raining when-
it was raining when you held your parasol high
and laughed at the sun
it was bright light then-
it was bright light then-
it was bright light then when your umbrella on
pulled laughter from the bus
(a he i
my condolences for your
wake up, wake up
it isn't morning
but for the tumble
for the tumble
i give you warmth
- Stain -Stain- Stain -7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Do you remember the old pain,
the tears and the acid rain,
us making love on a fast train,
the pleasure of going insane,
the madness infusing my brain,
the red in that blood stain
I still do.
is this how it is to fly?the sleepy storm of your aeroplane fingersis this how it is to fly?8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
hurricaning gentle rushes along the tips of my ear flesh--
no, i did not say stop
as a child in your arms, I wish for more wishes
too few are the moments we glide beneath our eye sheets
tucking our tears into slippery sleep
when does wait turn into savour?
jester flowers dance jangly yellow beneath my feet and i feel
the gentle grumble of the wind's distaste through my ear pipes
along my jaw; my straining neck
a furore of bent elbows and outstretched arms tasting cloud whispers
on my cheeks, on my lips, and my hair no longer obeys the law
is this how it is to fly? arms wicked propellers and spinning
turning running sideways centripetal;
my centre? is where, is where?
i am your el(e)-o-c(tro)ution
you are my hard starboard.
everyone was once a smaller face to cry
Love you in RedI love you in redLove you in Red7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
said the bullet
to the head
as it exploded
like a melon
by a mallet
as the cars were changing lanes
bits of grey matter
out of the carpet
a fresh tomato
from the market...
OH... where did I put that brain?!?!?!?
spatter marks of red
like the gun
it's the nail
in the coffin
the truth as otheri get the best thoughts in your boarded up toiletthe truth as other8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
shutting the door tight and hiding where you won't find me.
it hasn't been used for years. the window beams
orange light at me through the cardboard.
it's warm in here, it's filled with spider breath, and i could pretend
i was an earl, with web-hair clumped as curls.
the air is dust and mould and 1980-something -
i can't quite pick the vintage.
i let it settle on my tongue and try my best to keep quiet
you'll hear me and if you do...
i tend to find perfect presents for people i used to know
ten, five, two years too late.
sometimes i buy these things just because of the feelings they evince, they procure. i leave them in places their younger selves might wander through.
do you like it?
and i don't do so well with thank yous as i'd like
no i don't do so well with you at all
i think it's kind of crazy to rely on one thought, one goal, one ability, one truth
and i find it kind of ridiculous that i tend to never follow my own
youmesmeriseme[youmesmeriseme8 years ago in Typographical More Like This
you mesmerise me
you rise me; me's me
me me me, rises you
mire see you, me e
see you-me, sire
is you (me-you)
you see me
i see you
is your me
you see me is i
- Utopia -utopia- Utopia -8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
just look outside
your shiny window
and see the progress
we have made
insurance, fast food,
the shiny buildings,
the lovely gardens,
the selfless workers
build and sing
the housewives cook,
and watch TV
and all our dreams
we learnt in high school
have now come true...
the purest tollerance
have made us pure
gave us skills
so we can build
much bigger buildings,
and lovely gardens,
and selfless workers,
and we believe
our life's at ease,
we love to think
it's this we wanted
and we're so shiny
just like buildings
still... we're as mortal
as we started
Learning to breathe on my ownIn the early hours of yet another cold winter's morning today, I came to realise what the past 26 years have taught me. Lost in thought and woken from dream I realised I have learned of love and joy, heartache and sorrow. I have learnt of life and death, or greetings and farewells. I have learnt of friendship and loss, support and grief. But most of all, above everything else I have learnt, through every experience laid out in the forgotten pathways of my past, more than all of it, I have learnt that despite how I may feel at the time, I really can handle anything.Learning to breathe on my own5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Our pasts have a tendency to dictate our futures. Whether it be how we change the way we act or the way we speak or even the choices we make as they present themselves, everything we've encountered along the way drives who we become. Some people choose to blame the past for their presents, they dwell on the bad and condemn their situations due to things that have happened that most often where out of their control, but to be
Let the Girl DownThe moments swell in parallels,Let the Girl Down7 years ago in Other More Like This
dreams kept safe in prison cells.
Mistakes made to create your own, personal, hell.
It's easy to tell
didn't think this through.
You continue to exist,
of what ails you.
UntitledThey were worse then the letters that could be something if you put them together.Untitled8 years ago in Open More Like This
And the numbers were tight and square and he hated the whole thing.
The teacher came and spoke to him. She told him to wear a tie like all the other boys.
He said he didn't like them and she said it didn't matter.
After that they drew.
And he drew all yellow and it was the way he felt about morning. And it was beautiful.
The teacher came and smiled at him "What's' this?" she said "why don't you draw something like Ken's drawing, isn't that beautiful?"
It was all questions.
After that his mother bought him a tie and he always drew airplanes and rocket ships like everyone else.
And he threw the old picture away.
And when he lay out alone looking at the sky, it was big and blue and all of everything, but he wasn't anymore.
He was square inside and brown, and his hands were stiff, and he was just like everyone else.
And the thing that needed saying didn't need saying anymore.
It had stopped pushing. It was c
do you ?whose person did i become?do you ?8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(i struggle to shut out all the things that i wasnt saying)
i dream incessantly
and stare far too much at the sky
(can you tell me what it says about me?)
I'm quiet when I break. And no, you wouldn't know, I could be smiling, and no, you wouldn't know. I could be laughing at your jokes and your surface weather pleasantries, and I could be breaking, and no, you wouldn't know.
There is stonework I traced, and never memorised completely, cracks I didn't step on and fingers interlaced, conversations I recall pieces of, like pieces of string humming reverberations from a can on the other side
I'm too stubborn for anyone's good. I couldn't relax into a moment... wait, I could; what I mean