ClassroomFor I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth - I have neither intelligence nor the power of vocabulary - Action - I do not know what gestures to make when I deliver a speech - Utterance - meaning eloquence - Nor the power of speech - Nor rhetoric: r-h-e-t-o-r-i-c - To stir. To arouse...Classroom9 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
I should be taking down notes. He'll catch me again. Fuck me up.
There's this dull feeling inside my mind that I don't really care at the moment. I know I'd care about it later when I'm giving my exams. I know I'm screwing with myself and my promotion. But, right now, I just can't give a damn.
...I only speak right on - I only speak straight from my heart. I only speak what I know. - If I was Brutus - If I had the eloquence. If I could speak like Brutus...If I was Brutus, and if Brutus was Anthony, Brutus, being a better orator, would've been able to stir up your spirits, make every wound on Caesar's body speak out so that even the stones - inanimate objects- that lie all over Rome wou
LullabyeLullabye11 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I'm so tired
and there's nothing left to say
Just a thin new quiet
and another worthless day
My head's on fire
and the foundation's giving way
Need to find me a buyer
so I can sell myself away.
Goodbye cruel world—
I've found a better place to die;
It's got scar tissue for pavement
and signed confessions in the sky.
They cut a little deeper
every time you get too high,
and the priests and doctors scare you
but you don't know exactly why.
I'm so damn tired,
and there's nothing left to lose
Just a bright, new scar
and another pointless clue
My head's dead wired
I just have to follow through
Still can't find me a buyer
can I sell myself to you?
Goodnight, my love—
may the angels hold you tight;
let their whispers drown the damage
blasts that wake you in the night.
I'll be crouching in your field of dreams
but I will be all right
if I can make my way to morning
keep the Saving Day in sight.
So, so tired
as I lay me down to sleep;
I pray the Lord my silence
will be someday mine to
Girl on a train 245.Girl on a train 24510 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There should be a poem for every girl
with black hair and black eyes
who's sat across the aisle on a crowded train
and written pointless beautiful things
in the notebook in her lap.
I might write my name and number on a bit of paper
Drop it on your page as I'm getting off.
But I prefer to think it and write it than to know
What might happen if I actually did.
I'm sorry I've been staring. But you see
You Poor ThingI am sorry for your skeleton,You Poor Thing5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the way you carry yourself when you walk into a room
like your arms are tied and your mouth is empty and you've been
kept prisoner for a year, waiting for a bird to arrive
at your window. Your eyes are full and I spread my hands and say this;
sorry, like a man abandoning his lover in a cloud of dust. I am sorry for
your eyes, resentful like a North American river.
Sorry, for everything, for your breasts and womanhood.
You are standing on the edge of eighteen
relunctant and awkward; you do not want
to spread your legs wide and let the world drop its' pants
to fuck you. You are standing on the edge of something
looking afraid and saying no,
I don't want any spaghetti. I'm not hungry.
I'm hurting and horrible the way that a person feels
when they shatter the shell of a snail by
accident. I cannot say sorry
enough for your hands, scrabbling at the surface
of a wooden panel unheard, clawing at one another
like you're putting a deer in the headlights
SmileDo you knowSmile8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What you do to me?
You make me smile
Every time you look at me.
We laugh and joke
You know just what to say
But I hope you know
You make me feel this way.
I get all these silly butterflies
And I can't hardly
Look you in the eyes.
When you call me beautiful
I feel so,
You make me blush
And you always know
And even though
I've been sad for quite a while,
You always know
How to make me smile.
My Heart Always Returns To MeMy sagging heart alwaysMy Heart Always Returns To Me5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Returns to me; cringing
Like a wounded animal,
Tail between its legs, an
India-ink river of blood
Mapped across the kitchen floor.
I blindly follow these maps
Back to myself.
Like a wounded animal it lies
Whimpering and grotesque
On the tiles, flayed and shaking,
Reeking of iron and fur.
In my arms, my little animal
Slackens, shudders, is still for a while.
In it I can bury my breath, my face
As I wait for it to howl.
Don't Love MeDon't love me because I'm afraid to loveDon't Love Me7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Because once I hold you I can't let go
Because I'm afraid to se you walk away
Bcause I know the day will come
Don't love me because it's not true
Because you see me for what I'm not
Because you're so goddamn beautiful
Because I can't even tell you so
Don't love me because you'll suffer
Because the world is not afraid to hurt
Because I'm not worth the pain
Because you deserve so much better
Don't listen when I say "Don't love me"
Because I know you do care
Because I love you so much I can't live
Because I want you to love me
Don't love me
Don't listen when I say don't love me
Don't leave me
I love you
Hero BootsI read somewhere that if you're going to dieHero Boots9 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
you should die with your boots on
and if you do, then your death would MEAN something.
Which doesnt nessecarily mean that if you pull on a pair of rubbers
and get run over by a truck,
you'll get a million dollar funeral service and a plaque somewhere
it just means that if you're brave
and you think with your heart instead of breaking someone elses skull
just to save yours
then you're someone worth writing a poem about.
A month ago, my friend Driver got his head kicked in
Nobody noticed, because it's one less street rat to deal with
it's one less homeless to house
it's some guy, in an alley
who ended up with a skull to the curb
and grey matter leaving a red splatter on the cement
it wasnt on the news that he was a hero
because he stood his ground and remained non-violent
when this guy punched him cause he didnt have any cash
to feed his crack habit
Because Driver isnt that kind of hero
and cest la vie
because humanity is LIKE THAT.
I just wanna..I just wanna..12 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I want to tell you you brighten my day
make all my problems disapear
I want to fall asleep in your arms
get lost forever in your eyes
I want to smile as you tease my hair
and forgive you anytime you say your sorry
I want to tickle your stomach
and tell you your sweet
I want to sit in the rain
holding your hand..
let the drops fall into my hair
lay under the stars
point them out
and get a kiss from you
I want to cry with hapiness
so you can wipe the tears from my face
I want to laugh when you tease me
and thank you when u please me
I wanna be with you for the time that I can
and be the person you trust.
I want to sing you to sleep
and touch your soft skin
I want to hold you when you cry
be there when you need me
I want to tell you your special
and be there to massage your back
I want to whisper in your ear
and and make you crazy
I want to be there to encourage you
and make you smile when your embarassed
I want to make you blush
and reassure you your the most beautiful person I know..
the lonely planet's guideIt was three AMthe lonely planet's guide7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It was three AM
we were talking about
and I was too ashamed
to admit that I couldn't
remember how that felt,
staring stupidly at the
piss-stained bed and then
at the ceiling. There was a moth
the size of my heart and coloured
in like autumn and pain. That's me,
and then threw my shoes at it.
The next day on the metro
somebody had scratched C'EST
A CHIER onto the window
and it was only then that
I felt the papery beating of
winged grief in my
You might think that it's
pretentious to write about
Paris, but that's where I was.
nique ta mère.
-Teardrops on the Pavement--Teardrops on the Pavement-11 years ago in Teen More Like This
The moon reflected off of her radiant skin, the seeping light almost seeming hollow. Her wearisome footsteps came to a halt. Breathing only made the agonizing silence louder. Echoing through the deserted tunnels in her mind. How she wished she could crawl into the silence and never return, to cease to exist. She felt his familiar touch on her shoulder and didn't want to turn around. Didn't want to feed her mind another image of his face to haunt her with. The silky breeze caressed the strands of her hair as he said her name. Her name had never sounded so perfect. The rhythm of his voice flowing lightly from his lips, the lips she had known more intimately than anything else in this world. She wanted to keep walking as she felt the stinging tears in her eyes. Why was he doing this to her? Wasn't one goodbye enough? The goodbye? Goodbye. That word had never as much to her as it did on this night. She never knew one word could cut her so deeply, down to her very soul. She heard his
Who do you think I am?Look deep into my eyes,Who do you think I am?7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
tell me what you see.
Who do you think of,
when you think of me?
Am I the sweet one,
the loyal, faithful friend?
Or do you just use me,
am I a means to an end?
Am I the love of your life,
the one you can't live without?
Or am I just a good time,
just trash you'll soon throw out?
Am I the mean girl,
the one that scares you so?
Or am I the one you torture,
when you think no one will know?
Am I the forgotten girl,
the one that no one can see?
Or do you spend your nights
awake fantasizing about me?
Am I the weird girl,
the one that you put down?
Or am I the funny girl
everyone calls the class clown?
Am I the suicidal girl,
the one who tries to kill the pain?
Or am I the vibrant girl
who loves to dance in the rain?
Who do you think I am?
Do you even really know?
There are so many sides of me,
but only a few I ever show.
of storms and skysee my hair dance wild as wind-strings jerk it about//hear the ocean-wind heave itself against us all- crashing into our eyes and mouth//feel the winter-wind brush our skins in summer//then inhale the heaviness of air and sink through the dirt- because darling, you dont deserve gods beautiful violence.of storms and sky7 years ago in Other More Like This
(it drags the tree by its leaves saying kiss your trunk, kiss it and it does; releasing with a snap. the other trees flitter-flutter violently, crying within the cacophony of rain on concrete. white stars fall where light exists, and only sound where it disappears. the sky -the colour of sunburnt skin- watches it all with hunger. and then a moment we are swallowed. gumtrees, rain, earth; we are all night sky now. but our eyes open and the rain is no more, dew on grass. and the wind is no more, only breath.)
Fisher Girl The Fisher-girlFisher Girl4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
And words will fail a girl;
Staring about in this empty grey;
Straining eyes against the frosting fog which lies
Thicker than a shroud about a vault.
(How insignificant one can seem)
No separation exists here, between the heaven and the hell.
A lonely craft and its occupant
Suspended in a monotone
Like a spider in its web.
Friendly, creaking wood;
The stark realism of a tiny spire
Standing like a shot against the empty mist
She is alone
Her sun now hidden
In that rich and tasteless fog.
And her Earth?
Is it a million miles away?
Or does it lie ahead
Perhaps to wound her tiny craft, and leave her
Struck with fears of dying.
Where are the gulls?
Where is her home?
And the sea is so still
And the fisher-girl, does not.
Oh, you dreaded day, you monster!
Do you come to petrify a soul?
If so, go away
Your job is done .
But, it does not
And the sea is lonelier still.
Her KissHer naked body undulates before me to the beat of some unknown music only heard in her head.Her Kiss7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Her tongue flickers exploringly from between her lips, tasting the salt oozing nervously from my skin.
Her hair cascades into my face, black as the umbra of a nocturnal demon, smelling heavily of unknown herbs.
Her fingers, crowned with sharpened nails, lightly tear red swollen tracks across my back and neck.
Her breath blankets my face with a warm musty sensation, thick with the smell of death and decay.
Her breasts brush across my chest with a kinesthetic feeling of mortuary coldness, icy and unfamiliar.
Her eyes, deep pools of murky blackness, stare just beyond my sight as if examining my inner self.
Her mind whispers words of an ancient language that penetrate into my brain, paralyzing me with fear.
Her lips kiss my shoulder softly, nibbling my clavicle, slowly exploring up to my trembling neck.
Her mouth opens.
Her fangs gouge two holes into a throbbing artery, allowing my crimson lifeforc
Balancing Acti am to sway hips and sip the mind of an adolescent fromBalancing Act5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my latest cup of tea
things, sing scales while they struggle for even-footing, even after
the sun frowns down
town, i'm walking and tripping on some stones,
(three or four there scattered) flattering my lope with a little extra bounce.
look at me,
look at me
walking home while the jays talk of the weather,
whether or not it will rain tonight and i think
look at me,
look at me
all while spinal chords tingle and
gag reflex threatens
The Women's RulesRule #1: Never admit defeat.The Women's Rules8 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
Rule #1.2: You are never wrong, there are simply times when you're not right.
Rule #1.3: Even if you're not right, everyone else is still wrong.
Rule #2: Being a bitch is a GOOD thing, no matter what any other stupid bitch says.
Rule #3: If only you laugh, it's still funny.
Rule #3.2: If only someone else laughs, it's just stupid.
Rule #4: I like eggs.
Rule #5: If someone says something you don't like, you have every right to spork their eyes out.
Rule #5.2: If you say something someone else doesn't like, tough shit for them.
Rule #6: If a hot guy stares at you it's okay.
Rule #6.2: If a hot guy stares at someone else it's rude.
Rule #7: You have every right to grab someone's ass, as long as their face doesn't resemble one.
Rule #8: You are never out of shape. Round is a shape, too!
Rule #9: A whore is worse than a slut. A slut is worse than a bitch. A bitch rules all.
Rule #10: If someone should compliment you, they are always secretly saying something mea
Looking UpEvery person that I pass on the street either looks at me and smiles, or looks down at the passing cracks and scuffed boots that refuse to look back. Not one ever looks up. As a human I feel restrained in this two-way world, and as a stranger I feel helpless.Looking Up8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Did you see the man with the tattered work gloves? How he hid his fingers in his sweat-stained blue jeans and held a staring contest with his steel toes? I wish he knew that I walked by, that if he was to pass by me a second time, a that man looks more tired than the last time I saw him thought could run through his mind. He cant even imagine where hes going because he is too busy stuffing his mind with personal guilt. Nobody blames him but himself: for his menial job, his workaday routine, his solitude.
But I am just assuming here. I couldnt pinpoint this mans face in a lineup, or greet him by his predictable nickname. He would tell me (if he could see me), that the brim of his cap simpl
TouchTouch8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If you could touch me
you could read the braille of my longing
peppered across this skin.
When in darkness I create you
out of shadows
to fill the emptiness surrounding
the shivering of my flesh.
If you could feel me
and trace the glyphs of womanhood
down my spine, between my breasts,
across my hips,
they would spell to you secrets
never to cross these lips.
If I could touch your bareness,
emboss codes with my tongue
over the parchment of your skin,
and illicit the madness of morse code
along the ridges of your mouth,
you would be mine,
and we could.
la machine a ecrire+eng translEn-dehors du reste du monde, le temps ne compte plus, les oiseaux chantent toute la nuit et la police ne sait plus quoi faire. Elle est débordée par notre sagesse denfants, nos idées révolutionnaires et nos jeux trop simples pour notre âge. Seule la pluie pénétrait notre univers et elle devenait ce quon lui disait dêtre; un baume, une confidente attentive qui nous a dit ce quon voulait entendre. On nageait dans lextase, on se roulait dans le sable, on volait dans la lumière dont on faisait ce quon voulait. Elle nous enveloppait de bon cur, nous étions devenus ses enfants, des enfants-lumière comme celui de King et Kubrick. On sest raconté des scénarios impossibles, sans fins et inachevés, des histoires parfaites parce quelles se terminaient avant de mal tourner, dans un décor de film fabriqué juste pla machine a ecrire+eng transl6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
Dear HeartOh, my heart.Dear Heart8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Just keep going
Come on, little heart.
Just for one more tortured night
One more tear filled day,
Though you ache
With each beat.
Oh my heart,
You feel so heavy
And yet so empty.
When he left
He never returned you fully
And all the pieces left
Are either missing or broken.
And it's the most painful thing
I have ever felt.
Oh my heart,
I never meant to hurt you.
You are so wounded,
So scarred now.
What have I done
To my fragile heart?
Though I will guard you now,
Will you ever mend?
Come on, little heart.
Just beat again.
L'oubliL'oubliL'oubli9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
En sommes-nous bénis?
En sommes-nous maudits?
Je ne peut oublier à quel point je taime,
Je ne peut oublier a quel point j'ai mal,
Bénit d'oublier la douleur que j'ai,
Maudit de ne point oublier mon amour,
Bénit d'être maudit,
Maudit d'être bénit,
Ma Douleur, mon Amour,
Mon Amour, mon Fardeau,
Mon Fardeau, ma Douleur,