to build-up smilesi'd like to seduce happiness
buy a new dress for contentedness
slut it up for ecstasy
pull down the sheets on frivolity
melt down the wax around sacrifice
excuse myself for rushing
i'd like to choreograph prayer
the build-up to the artifice
stop smiles from touching
begin the wake before the dawn
the black before the white; a pair
disbanded before a circle shared
one half realising, "i'm just another pawn."
batteries unincludedyou are an hourbatteries unincluded8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sixty minutes of sixty tickings
in this hour is every word
youve ever said
i have an old wrist watch my father gave me
i say old, because five years is a long time when it is a quart of your life.
i use it to count you.
staring at the straight lines and reflecting the tubed light into a dancing circle on the wall
a spotlight for an ant
i imagine a woven straw hat and cane
there was always dancing wasnt there?
there was, but it was never us that were dancing. its just a configuration.
you know, of talk.
something we forgot all about.
perhaps it wasnt forgetfulness but forced ignorance.
you know, being stubborn, like stains you can never get out in the morning.
whichever waydon't you forget that yesterday used to be a tomorrow.whichever way7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
ends with one. And IIts November again and I feel as if the bracken on the trees has changed so much. And yet, I would not knowI am so far away from that placein not only years.ends with one. And I7 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I believe you look the same. Of course I cant be sure, but real-time details dont change my mental image of you. So I say it. So I believe it. You would rather me believe youve changed for the better, but I know better could only be the same as you were.
But I have changed, of course. And of course it is only ever one-sided this we would agree on. You try to tickle out the nuances you remember that I do not, but I didnt tell you I learnt to suppress the urge to laugh.
But Ill laugh, dont worry.
What I remember most are your eyes. Because they are everything I knew I wanted to exist. No, I couldnt tell you what colour they are, in certainty, but I know them more than I know my own.
Although, I must learn to remember that all we're doing is finding a very similar kin
ImitationIf I were carbon paperImitation8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'd lie down to trace your perfect lines
and then I could duplicate your beauty
pretending it was my own
The loss of sanityAnother pillThe loss of sanity9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hidden under my pillow
My face fluorescently lit
Pacing up and down the hall
To maintain the sanity they deny
I'm not crazy
I write again and again
I'm not crazy
I whisper as they turn the lock
You'll never knowYour words blow through me, chilling my heartYou'll never know8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
These sentences stringing together, icicles raining down on me
I can't bear to look at you.
I stare into the trees, feeling as naked as they appear
All I can think is, I wish I hadn't found such a way to keep warm last night
and I know you are hurting, but you hurt me too
You feel miles away, if I could only reach out and touch you
It's so cold, we're so cold,
and I'm afraid your love is blowing away with the leaves.
Spiderling"Next!"Spiderling8 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Shuffle, up, shuffle.
"Three teal, seven harlequin, ten spotted mauve… one spiderling."
"Gimme your ration card!"
"I… I… I… I… here…"
Mumble mutterings, "three teal, seven… spotted mauve. There ain't no spiderlings on this here card!" Eyes ablaze and as meat.
"Please, for my… back, the pain."
Slam down hard.
"Everyone gets their fair share. Nothing more. Always less. Nothing more. Next!"
Twenty coloured pills danced down his fingertips and I quickly picked them up as they bounced once, twice. Never let them more that thrice. Or pop! All over the counter. And no more. Always less.
The ration dispenser flicked my card at me. It twanged laminatedly against my forehead and landed on my gloved palm. I tucked it back into my pocket; card and pills packed safely. No one dares traverse the insides of another's pants these days.
They say everything's contagious.
It is the year of our Lord, 2100, June twelfth, eight fifteen post meridian and I am cold. Our lady is but a bloated memory fl
Poetry is my friendWallflower girlPoetry is my friend8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Trying to blend with the scenery
Wishing for this night to end
And she can return to seclusion
Periods of small talk interrupting
Millennia of loneliness
Once the crowd is gone
She'll be safe once again
Surrounded by the comfort
Of the ones she truly loves
The ones who don't judge
If only books could hug back
This stinging in my eyesVivid pictures burst to lifeThis stinging in my eyes8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as the cool air rustles through my hair
Seeing those burgundy tipped yellow petals
and orange falling leaves,
the beauty of this beginning of the end engulfs me.
I pull my jacket just a little tighter as the wind picks up
and my thoughts are carried away
only to be caught up in empty branches
hopelessly tangled like a child's kite string
I know these ideas of you, of our life together
will continue to haunt our secret place
like a sweet dream turned nightmare
and I'm left here wondering when I'll wake
ghazal for kateversion 192924billionghazal for kate8 years ago in Other More Like This
a whitewashed fence looks orange beneath the lamplight and
i think she's beautiful, limpid on last autumn's leaves
her knees are stark against the dirt back drop as the bruises blossom
like varying species of olives mounted upon her calves
hand in hand, we stumble through the deadened plots where
the drying sheets look more like billowing, middle-eastern scarves
and the pink fireworks rocket across the asphalt as her
stomach explodes out her throat and into a slew of adjectives
lacrimationthey are just as easy to fall away from your fingertipslacrimation7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
- fingertips - as lips are from other lips
they are just as easy to fall away from your fingertips
as smiles are from other lips
it is in your air
the hurried sweetness
all you ever said is stuck between the bottom of my shoes
and this freshly poured cement.
tell me time won't wind along
down with you into your
tell me that memory stays the
same, each time i genuflectause for
Can I tell you how I planned it all out in my head?
when i decide to fall, i do it ever so ungracefully
who are you to say no to me?
you are who can say no to me.
there is evidence to prove the relation between
the sodium collection on my little fingers of keratin
and the words you coughed out inappropriately
would you take a chance on my heart
would you take a chance on my heart
because if i were you
i really wouldn't.
i like my abuse k
everything. but thisit was morningeverything. but this8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
when you spoke to me in draughts
of sleep and stole my open
thoughts. i was awake between
your fingers interspersed with mine -
i call it collide with world tasters,
yours, and what i call my own i say
is yours, and what i called myself
is there somewhere inside your breath
and it begins inside the sandwich
of night warmth leaking through the
soft of me and you
i call it tracing the day away
with laments for the crooked moon
and his jagged holey smile
(you see even perfection is hallowed,
and this is why i say you are a book
more precious to me than an empty one.)
it was wide awake and bleeding yawns
from the lips that told me the most
beautifullest things in the entirety of
everything. but this is what it is to be
was, and this is what it is to
remember the morning.
just likehe said,just like8 years ago in Typographical More Like This
you taste kind of nice
ill give you a try.
its been too long
i know ive forgotten.
its just like riding a bike
i always used to crash
GreenYou told me I was neon.Green8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Not in the finger-scalding, eye-snatching,
you-wake-the-city-nights kind of way,
but more like a satisfying cough in the back of your lungs,
the white noise that blocks out all thought.
And I just laughed and called you a bastard.
You're my green.
It's like, when we kiss,
all I can feel is spring.
And I adore that you don't impose on the iris -
just sit in the background, waiting to be found
and the way your eyes smell of cut grass.
(reminding me of all the things we do in it
that we could never tell the grandkids)
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
Here's To You. I Guess."We won't go down in history, but nothing can ever compare to what you make me feel."Here's To You. I Guess.8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It was something simple, I know.
Just a case of a little you in my eye
(and removing that should have been
as easy as scraping the sleep from dreams)
but it felt like I was holding infinity in my palm
and I had sneezed on the fingertips.
We were Destiny once
in the days when forever was just a word
our tongues liked to play tag with
and our hands were just apparatus to measure affection.
But every now and never,
I like to pretend I'm normal in your absence;
wear your shoes, read the obituaries,
smile at strangers and dip my friends in coffee.
Play you for a day.
But, this morning, I woke up to the strangest dream
naked on my pillow; gap-toothed and smiling.
It told me that mirrors were only invented
to look back at the past without straining your neck.
And I spoke to a pickpocket the other day
while he was fumbling for my change,
introduced him to you through the trinkets I keep in my tr
Youthe intricately inspired,You8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the jumble-word genius,
the conscience whose
beauty's drawn from the
last inch of truth.
the classic word-painter,
the omniscient romantic,
the only insightful voice
with enough strength to sing.
You still reverberate in the
hollow shells of prophets,
ignite the ethereal smiles
of dreamers (sweeten their
heads with love-spun words).
The worlds you created
still penetrate the greys
of reality as they drip
from the awe-blushed lips
of lovers and hang inside
the eyelash frames of artists
- and you still exist in
reverance within the eyes
of lyrical aspirers, beat
in the hearts of all the
souldolls you touched.
Love Tales1.Love Tales7 years ago in General More Like This
He was watching her breathe, when she stopped suddenly and turned towards him. In this breath, I hold a thought she said, Ill set it free once you can guess it.
And still when he sits before the sea, watching lovers cuddling, he thinks of that breath of hers.
As she has been going down the stairs she finds that feeling returning of becoming lighter than the air above her. And then, the fear of rising up in through the block of air and reaching the floor she had started from; of finding the door, she had closed before she left, ajar; of finding him sleeping in the green light of the night bulb. That color hurt her eyes.
He dreamt of waking up.
When did you fall asleep on the sand? Did the last sun hurt your eyes? Like it had burned me? And the pages on which I wrote these love tales? Will the sea water heal your hurt or my love tales? Must I hold my breath in anticipation too? Hope? Do you know to dream? Am I the one whos asleep in
EucalyptusEucalyptus8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her skirts are so thick
if you spun her upside down
she would open up like a rose-
violent yellow pumps
and bubble ankles on
lanky blue legs, waving like stamen in the rain.
she's pollinating all over the room
a good thing to ask would be
why have I waited so long.
Do you remember burning me around your neck? I singed your hair, but didn't say anything.
It just curled from my fingers.
I sit far away now-
wrapped around my new love like a cat,
telling ghost stories and missing your shoulders,
flicking back and forth against the subway walls.
I got a letter today
a train schedule
another reminder of my
residence in the wings.
why have I waited so long?
I remember the day
you sat in my livingroom
somber, surrounded by fruit,
while I ran back and forth
miserable and sweating, trying to
find something appropriate to wear at the funeral.
you played at his memorial
and I watched
leaning back on the carpet and forgetting
entirely where I was.
Love's Long Awaited TaleLove's Long Awaited Tale8 years ago in Transgressive More Like This
At last, she decided to mosaic her bedroom floor with his letters. They had been enabling her past. A past which she wanted to rob of the form and the structure. She wished she would find his amnesia, left behind in his forgetting, lying in full carelessness, on the creases, in between the folds of the letters. Manifold. But as always he had forgotten…. To leave back his amnesia. She decided to create her own amnesia.
She decided to tear his letters, off. Carefully down the creases. Exactly from their seams. So as not to hurt them.
He had written each of his letters in pencil, in some nights. He wrote them all in the light of the candle. She could still sense the smell of molten wax on them. All his letters bore this strange broth of a fragrance: of wax and lead. Each of his letters he had written in the form of dialogues. Each one he had decimated in acts and scenes. And she knew he had been writing one of his greatest plays in the form of letters with her as the p
Just One TasteLet me swallow you wholeJust One Taste8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and trace my tastebuds around
every tender drop of who you are,
starting with those world-worn,
mud-trodden, kiss-me-tender eyes.
I'll open the centre of your smile
and work my way inwards:
ramble over the
rude roughness of tongue,
trip against the scar
tensed below the surface,
enumerate each eager emotion,
stumble amongst psychosises
howling for salvation,
submerge myself in memories
so macabre they have no end
and graze these lips upon every
guarded groove of goodness.
Then, maybe, below the bile and bitterness,
I'll reach the core of you and ring it
as bright as childhood.
It Shouldn't be AllowedIt Shouldn't be Allowed8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
There should be a law against the kind of love we live,
restrictions on how much delight and caring we can give.
There ought to be a rule against two hearts that beat like this,
and someone to advise against our passion when we kiss.
There really should be moral codes against the things we do,
and punishments to stop the way we murmur, "I love you."
Heavy hammer-blows should fall when we go hand-in-hand,
and strict adults should shake their heads in silent reprimand.
There ought to be a reckoning each time our gazes meet,
or tortures to discourage us from whispers soft and sweet.
All these things should stand against the kind of love we live,
So I can start ignoring them immediately.