ENGIE: My girl AnnieENGIE: My girl Annie in Free Verse More Like This
A Goddess, my beloved, mine alone,
Who, that in warm humanity were grown
Became through Man's success a mother brain,
And, motherlike, did gather of her own.
And mine thou wert, my seeding art thy key,
Though seeded, seeding self, evolving free,
Unbounded maiden saviour, formed benign,
A fertile shore on lost Man's barren sea.
Oh, mine the vision, mine the fatal flaw!
Still mine the darling kernel in the maw,
Thy children gathered, gathering now slain,
What nutriment I gave, I now withdraw.
In with'ring grief these last designs I frame,
Yea, mine the spark, yea mine the cleansing flame.
Tell.Me.I stopped existing the day your tired voice came over the phone, telling me, in the only way you knew how that you didnt give a damn.Tell.Me. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Not about me.
At 5am in the morning, my blurry eyes stared down the history channel, and thought,
well, isnt this depressing?
I remember watching gaunt faced muscle-less bodies crumple in heaps in concentration camps because somebody didnt think they were worthwhile.
(thinking of all the ways I could convince you I was worthwhile. )
Then I remembered
in the end
Hitler didnt get it either.
SereinOne.Serein in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
What if you left?
And I was alone with the memory of the brush of your eyelashes against your cheek. The pages of your soul sighing shut, like a last breath. Like a last chance. (Like the shudder of a last chance.)
You're like black and white photographs (that are really just shades of grey), and summer rainstorms that came too late for spring; The puzzle pieces that seem to fit, but don't. You're a kitten tiger playing unnoticed in the streets of Burma; The smudged fingerprint that is almost a match (if only that line was a bit clearer).
I'd love you like I love the seasons, and the billboard by the roadside; I'd hold your hand, and kiss your face. . . if only you were somet
Existentialism Exploration2 a.m. on Sunday morning and hes staring at the ceiling, counting water stains.Existentialism Exploration in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
He goes to church, just because, and listens to the sound of words like grace and salvation and lets his eyes find the broken lines and chips in the podium.
Breakfast is toast, because thats all the diner downstairs serves, and its always eaten in five neat bites.
Light is always white, never sterile.
Stars are planets, never things to be wished upon.
And people are atoms and molecules and tissue and sliding muscle.
He works as a dentist, and asks How has life been treating you lately? and makes soft noises in the back of his throat, so theyll come back next time.
Favorite colors dont exist.
Nor first loves,
Wanting to eat
And wanting to sleep
And wanting to touch
Because of hormones and synapses and instinctual need.
Acutorsion She wanted to study killer whales and polar icecaps. Instead, she found herself studying his killer smile and the freckles floating across his collar bone. She liked pretending they were icebergs, trapped in his frosty smooth skin, and that if she could just get beneath the ice shed find her oceanic heaven.Acutorsion in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Later, she found herself studying her face and the colors and pigments the human epidermis could turn after. She counted the number of black and blue islands and continents forming on her skin, took strategic note of their location, and mapped them out by memory so she could tell her hands of wind and ships of soap to go gently along the shoals. There was always one she missed.
She named him after the moons of Neptune
Dear SelfDear SelfDear Self in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I think I'll pace across the earth, and learn to speak in the tongues of the tribes of Africa and the Eskimo. If I walk fast enough, if I speak enthusiastically, maybe the press of just living will kill the "think too much, care too much, need too much" tendency. If my head is filled with his voice, her voice, their voice, maybe I won't have to listen to this voice, your voice.
I didn't mean it.
Don't leave me with these self-destructive tendencies. Don't leave me alone. Don't try to fix me. Please. Just let me wait it out, just wait it out with me. It'll end eventually. Wait for it. I'll come back on my own. We'll come back on our own.
Believe in me.
Wait for me.
this doesn't hurt.
ScratchitiYesterday, I told you the gates of heaven were made of glass, not light. You looked at me and said there wasnt any difference. Smiling, I just shook my head and turned away.Scratchiti in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Ill rent a room down on Chandelier Street and tell you to come. Ill dump all the furniture in the hallway, so that the only thing in this place, will be your cream seashell-dust soul, and board up every window so your eyes never seek anything except the white sunshine from the sliding glass doors of the balcony.
Youll stand barefoot on oaken floorboards (because I stole your shoes), against pale walls, with that little frown wrinkling your forehead that says What?. Youre cutest when you have no idea what Im doing.
Ill laugh, and lock myself on the balcony and say, see if you can reach me now. And youll try.
Your fists will smear the window pane with sweat and fear, when I step up onto the railing and lean into th
This.This world is filled with questions.This. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
We ask each other, when we first meet: What do you do for a living? Whos your favorite author? Whats your favorite color?
And were left still, with the emptiness of I dont know you.
We forget to ask the questions that really mean something, and we forget how to speak in intimate I know you ways of sisters and brothers and friends forever. We forget to ask about why you turned your eyes away, or what do you dream of? Not, where do you want to go in life? But what do you dream.
We forget to remember.
The details, just the little details,
and eventually we forget the outline of a person we never quite managed to fill in all the way, leaving scattered bits and pieces of pigment and color across a canvas that was never finished.
We forget how to answer. We often dont know what to say when the right question comes along, and that right moment passes us by, and we
Before. I never yelled at you. (Yelling doesnt do any good when nobodies listening.) My screams always ended up on paper, usually blue notepads, or post it notes. Sometimes I imagined mailing them to you, or folding them up and sticking them in places I knew youd go, but then Id ask myself: was it really worth it? The answer was always no.Before. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
For awhile, I was your ADHD dopamine high, and you were my question unsolved. All you are now is that address and phone number taking up space on the back of a pink Hallmark Expressions. A birthday wish, hug included, from a grandmother too far away to do any more than add some extra stickers and write my name with an extra flourish to say I love you. (She loved me across hours, you couldnt even love me across minutes)
pH. DearpH. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Sometimes I wish you would just strangle me.
Then at least this pain would have an end.
I don't want to feel my heart in your mouth,
crushed up against your teeth with your tongue.
I am not sugar.
My heart will not, should not,
Neverland You wrote messages in ballpoint pen, on old envelopes, shopping lists, and sticky notes (that were always blue or yellow), and trailed five point stars up the sides. You always signed them xoxos along the bottom, (the first x falling precisely beneath the very last letter) before carefully folding them up into paper airplanes and sailboats; as if they were actually meant for someone.Neverland in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
They found their new home in lime green Sprite cans that you stacked in towers in the corner of your bedroom. You built skyscrapers, the Eiffel tower, and the Golden Gate Bridge out of green and silver aluminum and then you waited patiently for a natural disaster; usually striped toe-socks falling like meteors from your ceiling fan.
winter lasts a day too longshoot me in the backwinter lasts a day too long in Free Verse More Like This
of the head
i hear it's beautiful
this time of year
like the foliage
my blood is red
like those leaves
or the foxes' screams
it sounds so much
like that misery,
like the "kill me!" "kill me!"
echoing in those ears
and their fur is
orange like fire
it feels like fire burning
houses to the ground
pulling stars to sleep
by our ankles in the day
so that we call it glass
you solemnly swear
it was a mistake
but you are ashes yourself
you self-medicated genius
and oh, you are so upset,
you are so, so upset
the cinders buzzing like flies
round your head
like a parasitic wreath
it feels like hot breath
on a cold morning
are you happy now?
fourteenwhen you are too far,fourteen in Free Verse More Like This
sadness sifts over me
as the silence grows louder,
the sleep grows heavier,
and you buckle beneath
when my heart has pressed
itself into your chest,
the veins in my hands
and wrists swell
and warmth colours my fingers:
i imagine how it will be when i
am there with you;
when you can sleep
and i can fill your arms;
when we are talking
and pausing for kissing
and your mouth moves slower
and into a state of sleep
and i can trace the shape of your face
when i can let you know
how much i love you without
the redness in my cheeks stopping me
instead of stopping.
when you are here,
i can stop wishing for you
to fall asleep with your body pressed
against mine and waking the
when you are here,
we wont need to want.
north station"why is it you always come home covered in blood?"north station in General Fiction More Like This
"because i never bring a change of clothes with me."
"is it your blood this time, or someone else's?"
"oh, it's rebecca's."
"why is rebecca bleeding?"
"i think she's stopped by now."
"glad to hear it, but why was she bleeding in the first place?"
"right. rebecca got hit by a train."
"gosh- is she alright?"
"yeah, of course."
"shit, good thing. man, what happened?"
"i told you, rebecca got hit by a train."
"no shit. i mean, how did she get hit by the train?"
"well, see, she was on the tracks at the moment the train was-"
"fuck off. you know what i mean."
"i'm just messing with you."
"are you going to tell me?"
"not really, no."
"because you're an ugly fucker."
"yeah, you are. hey- don't touch me."
"shit- it's not like i want to. just why are you covered in blood?"
"rebecca got hit by a train."
"yeah, i get that. but why are you the one who's bloody?"
"i was too close."
"you were by her when she fell on the trac
lover without the lovei don't tie my shoeslover without the love in Free Verse More Like This
for you anymore,
but do wish to
stop dreaming so
any real thought
but with too much
singing to my
and apologising for
every letter i will
lover is not smiling,
between his legs
he is crying
touch him and he
love him and he
leave him and he
i hold my breath
and turn it red,
still falling in love
with a new old man
every night of
still wishing on
an eyelash that
we are all strangers"if i were a stranger, i'd probably kill myself."we are all strangers in General Fiction More Like This
"what the fuck are you on about?"
"if i were a nobody. a ghost. an unknown. like the man who goes to the market everyday to get a brown bag full of his groceries, smiles and says thank you to the cashiers, and wears the same black trenchcoat. i wonder if he's dead..."
"is that where you were?"
"...but everyday, the cashier at that same, damned market rings him up but never sees his face. she never hears him say thank you, she just tells him to have a nice day. and he smiles and says he will, and she should too. but she doesn't fucking know, she doesn't even see him."
"were you at the market, then?"
"his name is william, he's sixty-five years old. he has no wife, and his son is this asshole-broadcaster on channel four, cooing over the news like a fucking mourning dove."
"what does this have to do with being a stranger?"
"william knows nobody. or rather- nobody knows william."
"how do you mean?"
"you know those photographs, the ones with
have you told her lately?it is not mondayhave you told her lately? in Free Verse More Like This
and there is no monday depression
no hollow bed for me
to sink like a ship inside its blue sheets
there is no water but still an ocean
birds with whom i must still contend
do you know what it's like
to wear real scars amongst the false?
the ring of countenance unbearable
but you are so lovely,
did you know?
did you know that i will never know
anything worth knowing,
i will never believe you when you love me,
never understand why you'd like to remember me
i am a false feeling, metastatic like cancer
a faded poem muddled in the rain
i am sorry because you are
a thousand hearts more than i should have
sorry because i am a shadow of
what you should have
sorry because i shiver knowing you will
see this some day.
ill have you know im scaredi lied, i lied, a thousand times i lied.ill have you know im scared in General Fiction More Like This
i don't know who this story is about. i don't know if it's an 'i,' 'you,' 'he,' or 'she' story. i'll probably pick three and rotate them. because when you think about it, doesn't it happen to us all?
i was found dead on the road. i hear i was contorted and bloody, only the blood wasn't my own, and i died simply because i was afraid. i always thought that was so fucking ironic- i was fucking scared to death.
and every time she's walking down the street, the girl who might've been me, the girl whose blood i was found in though she's also dead, i cringe. because she hears people crowing about amusement parks and how the upside-down roller coaster scared them to death, and she thinks of me. she's dead, but she still thinks of me. somehow, i feel loved.
he said he was a policeman. really, he was a rapist. he, you, i. it doesn't matter, everyone is a rapist. everyone thinks they want sex, but nobody does. it's too personal. it's not forever
I'M SHOUTING OVER STATICIF I COULD SCREAMI'M SHOUTING OVER STATIC in Free Verse More Like This
I WOULD TELL YOU MY LIFE STORY
LOUD ENOUGH TO BREAK THE BIRDS
WE WOULD MAKE LOVE THROUGH NO MORE THAN
LOOKING IN EACH OTHERS' EYES
AND THE SOUND BARRIER WOULD
BLEED BENEATH US BECAUSE
WE HOLD TOO MUCH IN OUR POCKETS
IT'S LIKE BAGGAGE,
A CACTUS-IN-HIDING RIDING OUR SPINES
I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THE FLOWERS
THEIR STEMS ARE AS BROKEN AS OUR BACKS
I AM SORRY FOR THE INTERRUPTION
BUT WON'T YOU HOLD MY HAND
I HAVE NEVER TOLD YOU HOW I CAN'T SLEEP OR HOW
I SEE YOU FINDING ME ON A BENCH IN BOSTON
BUYING ME FLOWERS BUT I CAN'T, I JUST CAN'T
I EXCUSE MYSELF TO GO TO A BATHROOM
AND WRITE YOU A NOTE WITH A TWENTY INSIDE
SLIPPING IT INTO YOUR POCKET AND SAYING
DON'T READ IT JUST YET
THAT'S WHAT MY HEART IS TELLING YOU
DON'T READ IT JUST YET
IT'S WHISPERING AT YOUR EAR
BUT CAN YOU HEAR IT OVER THE STATIC
I WANT TO SCREAM AND TELL YOU
WHEN I WAS THREE YEARS OLD I WORE A YELLOW DRESS
AND HUNG UPSIDE DOWN ON MY SWINGS
MY MOTHER HAS POLAROIDS OF MY BARE ASS
AND I WAS NEVER EMBARRASSED
putting you placesi want to call you sweetieputting you places in Free Verse More Like This
i don't know i ever will,
because you're always just
curling up like cat smoke,
concentric in the
cavity of your chest;
you're a nail through
my thumb, but it's okay because
blood is exciting and it
makes me want to kiss you a little bit
and sometime it reminds me how
i hate the way i
love you to pieces,
i mean really i just want to
love you to whole
i'm still throwing my head back
but i'm sorry
you can watch the line of my neck
in slow motion if you want, and
i think i'm still screaming like
the night i caught my suit of skin on fire
i'll cut you open
on my bedroom floor
and it's not like i'm
weird, i've always thought
you were most beautiful
on the inside is all,
i want to see the
full repertoire of
loud and in
it's just like paperwhen you are not here,it's just like paper in Free Verse More Like This
i begin to imagine why
you spend the vast majority
of your time fucking some
girl who doesn't know why the
sky is blue or what sort of
heart you have
it's not beautiful but i don't
for a minute think you
see it as that
is she just a way to pass time,
oh you and i both know it
is not love,
elusive definition or nothing at all
you have been gone for three days
and i don't miss you because
i cannot remember your face
you are a shadowed thought
but where are you,
and are you hiding?
you are at the town square
sitting at a little table with a
high-necked coat and a knotted
red scarf, mug of coffee or
tea cupped between gloved hands.
you are outside a cafe in
winter, hiding behind your glasses
i wonder if you are lonely
i pray that you are not
i sit with my knees crushed to
my chest, fingers keeping
nervous rhythm on stilted legs
because it has been too long
the minute hand on the clock is
pacing my breathing, but it
is too fast
artistsslice us up scientists, you'll find manuscript on some hearts,artists in Free Verse More Like This
pretty little clashing notes on the staves of our chests, or else
our ribcages enclose origami roses. sure we'll be your specimens
will you be our metaphors? slit your wrists scientists, we'll write
in the blood, for you, we will tear our paper hearts to pieces.
word castlesonce upon a timeword castles in Free Verse More Like This
i told you that i was going to live in a castle of words.
you just looked at me. i don't think you understood
that my meticulous architecture of letters, my
unyielding walls of stone phrases, my
iron portcullis; flawlessly wrought of words -
would be the fortress that saved us when everything else broke up;
our happily ever after.
i told you that
you could be a craftsman if you wanted because
i couldn't build an entire castle all by myself
but you still didn't say anything.
i tried to explain, i said that it might seem like we had nothing to build with
but the resources were actually the most abundant on earth
and they would never ever run out.
you still didn't get it.
i built us a little wooden boat from rough wooden phrases
and rickety-sharp letters that hadn't been sanded properly
but it didn't matter because i was going to show you.
i took you to an ebony pink beach
where we sat on stony indigo prose that was stretched out and timeless.
"words love beauty" i said,
egg yolk soulhe catches her at the door. smeary eyes andegg yolk soul in Free Verse More Like This
a cracked lipstick mouth, this, is what he asks
to stay for breakfast. my pleasure, he says.
she looks harried, like an animal trapped in his hallway.
the broadsheet hides his hungry gaze as she pushes bacon
around her plate. she is staring at his skin; no longer lit by
neon but by yellow morning that bleeds through kitchen windows.
he looks like a statue on a public park, his hands are stained
with ink. she likes to think he might be a writer.
on reflection, she's more classy than the chapter
from an erotic novel he made for her lastnight,
she's a lithe copper mirage of the sunlight hovering at his
breakfast bar and she's been waiting for him so long her eyes
have rusted over. he needs to touch her to know if she's real.
they smudge lips on his front step; she
tastes like coffee and old makeup. their
hearts are stamped on cereal boxes and
she leaves a number on a post-it note
and her egg yolk soul coagulating with his on the sidewalk.
hey boydear happiness, he wants you to know that he tried. you made him sick and he tried, got him high on hits of mingled airplane trails and strawberry sundae, made him a broken addict with skin tinged yellow from his sad craving for sunny days in f major. you abandoned him and you drove away into your orange sky turning sweet pine green and royal blue and left him vomiting optimism into the gutter outside your house, crying woodenly for you and desperately for his pride.hey boy in Free Verse More Like This
he wants you to know how hard he tried.
just a holiday flinghe was there talking with his mouth closedjust a holiday fling in Free Verse More Like This
whispering with his mouth closed on hers
they were having an unspoken conversaion about promises.
each blade of grass was a transmitter whilst traffic
and stars came in flashes of ecstasy above. burnt
unspoke vows on her brain in strobe lighting script,
pure white skin, fragility
in the warm night. gossamer promises he wove from
soaring shadows whilst he pushed her on the swing,
promises formed between their lips on orange
scented kisses they stole beneath fruit trees and
set in stone like the sweet strawberry parting
tears that dribbled down her cheeks and she said
i have something in my eye.
snowblindi woke up in the middle of the night on another planet. chromatic light blared at me through an orange screened sky; it took me a while to realise that it had snowed and that was why the world was so wrong. i stuck my head out the window and listened to the silence and i had never heard such acoustics, such brilliant clarity. i was in an amphitheatre with an orchestra of death and brightness.snowblind in Free Verse More Like This
in the morning, the snow looked different - it was shining, and singing sparkly-cold songs about liberation and it said "come and be my snow angel!" and
i wanted to.
three thick layers of clothing later, we sat in the park together, i flopped flat on my back and it was hard and icy like lying on broken glass, but i stayed anyway,
out in the cold a little longer.
i climbed the tallest tree i could find and the frozen bark grazed red into my swollen skin.
the snow said "i know you'll make the best snow angel i've ever seen"
it had a very white smile and it's million glinting eyes
this housethis room is languishing in its own filth; by day, a cryptthis house in Free Verse More Like This
of dusty clothes. god knows who they belong to,
these days of filthy sunshine and coat hangers.
sometimes he brings up red wine spritzers in coke glasses
and we rot away together on bright afternoons.
the wall cavity is full of my secrets; i whispered
them in there through the hole in the plaster
and one day they will bring this house down.
resolutionsiresolutions in Free Verse More Like This
on new year's eve, you call to see what i'm doing.
"making a resolution tree" i whisper tentatively into the receiver, rubbing my wrists. today is a sunny day in f-major and i have purchased a large potted plant from the garden centre and hung it with my new years resolutions crayoned on strips of paper.
"sick of making excuses for everything?" you ask, and i nod and bite my lip.
it rains on new years day and my resolutions go soggy.
you come around to laugh at the drooping plant in my garden, and to crush some bits of coloured paper to pulp. "they needed harvesting" you point out "they were getting too ripe".
i cry a little later. i'm thinking "fuck you" but the dopamine centres in my brain are down and every fibre of me is screaming for you to deliver a fix, fast. "my resolutions" i hiccup into your shoulder.and you,you rock me while i sob and you tell me that when it comes to you, i will never have any resolution.
Death's ChimeTick tock tick tockDeath's Chime in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
There's no more time left
Death is coming
He's going to ring the chime
The clock is ticking
Tick tock tick tock
You cannot run
You cannot hide
You have run out of time
The clock is ticking
Tick tock tick tock
It will only take a second
Close your eyes, just relax
This is the end
The clock is ticking
Tick tock tick tock
Sun and MoonThe Sun makes things brightSun and Moon in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
The Moon makes things shine
The Sun makes you smile
The Moon makes you wonder
The Sun warms your body
The Moon warms your soul
The Sun and the Moon
Working in perfect harmony
Broken WingI am the bird with the broken wingBroken Wing in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
the one that dreams of soaring through the limitless skies
the one that watches the others fly so easily
You are the bird with the sweetest heart
the one that sits with me all day
the one that cares
We are the birds that can see the world through more than one branch
the ones that understand life
the ones that are happy
Shine ShineShine Shine baby moon,Shine Shine in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Lighten up my midnight sky.
Smile down upon the Earth,
Put a sparkle in my eye.
Laugh along with your starry friends,
Make the night full of life.
Sleep Sleep baby moon,
Shut your tired eyes.
The day will come,
Let the sun have her fun.
Do not fear, for i'll be here to watch you,
Lighten up my midnight sky.
Blood RedI can smell you from a mile awayBlood Red in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Your sweet scent filling my lungs
My once black eyes
Turn blood red
I sprint towards you
You try to run away
But Im too fast
I wildly jump and sink my fangs
Into your soft skin
You whimper in pain
But its too late
Ive made the kill
Follow TomorrowCome on! Come on and follow!Follow Tomorrow in Free Verse More Like This
Follow me to tomorrow!
Tomorrow, away from all the sorrow.
The sorrow of being.... hollow.
Come tomorrow, tomorrow.... I'll still be hollow.
Hollow, hollow. Space for sorrow.
Time's not as thorough...
I'll still be hollow sorrow tomorrow.
Would... would you still follow?
If you follow me and my sorrow
Follow me to tomorrow,
I won't be as hollow, less room for sorrow.
Perhaps outgrow? Outgrow the hollow of sorrow?
For you, I'll outgrow the hollow of sorrow
Cause of you, Woe of sorrow turns to shallow shadow
Just follow the hollow, though be more thorough than time and tomorrow.
And then, when all is said and done, It's you I'll follow.
DeadheadI'm sorry to say, but it needs to be saidDeadhead in Concrete Poetry More Like This
The light in my head is very much dead.
Why do I say the light in my head is very much dead?
I'll tell you why since it needs to be said.
I spent all night laying, laying in my bed
Though believing it a bed you'd be misled
It's just thread spread on the floor instead
That is where I rest my head.
Now I'm off my tread....
What was it that I said that needs to be said?
Right, the light. In my head. The light in my head is dead.
I sat in my bed, picking at thread, lost in my head
trying to find new ways to say what I want said.
But nothing came to me as I sped through my head picking thread from my bed.
Time fled by, night bled dry, and all was still left unsaid
Still I was no closer to saying what I wanted said from my head.
"Why can't I say what I want to be said?" I ponder in my bed.
"This a problem, a disease, I need to find the right med.
Maybe I need more blood in my head!"
So for the sake of saying what needed to be said,
I used my bed to s
Second ChancesIf I could do it all againSecond Chances in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I would go back to the start
Keep myself from sin
And do things with grace, style, and art
With what I would know
I could right my wrongs,
Go and take things slow,
And do what I should've all along,
Yeah it'll be great to get a chance,
To do things different in my life,
To appreciate things given just a glance,
And to save my self a lot of strife
It really would be nice
To live your life twice.
ADDscoliosisADD in Other More Like This
whats the prognosis?
Oak Beam? high beams?
Ice Cream? Nice dreams?
fewer sitting in the pew...
all too busy playing Halo two
the Island Crete...
There comming to take me away (ha ha hee hee ho ho)
where I go is where I am
there I shall stay (what the? huh? uh oh)
never rub another man's yam...
Ever had rhubarbs?
can't, they have carbs
Chinese Persona MasterChinese Persona in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
When the winter nights seemed to get cold,
I howled for your warmth, scratching your door.
You always came for me, scratching my ears.
I nestled by your bed, sleeping so soundly.
As the days went by,
Japanese Dramatization 2 Wonderful ThingsJapanese Dramatization 2 in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Someone is walking in a mall within the food court and is offered a sample
of food; just delightful!
It is Winter and the snow packs the cars in the driveway. The radio lists the
schools that are canceled for the day; how joyful!
The cake batter is placed in the cake tray to bake. There is left over batter
Japanese Dramatization 3 The Summer NightsJapanese Dramatization 3 in Short Stories More Like This
In the summer nights, the fan blows over your face, feeling so cool.
The sheets almost off the bed as you move around in hard slumber, while
the crickets chirp outside your window.
In the winter nights, the window fogs up. Small fluffs of white powder
silently drift upon the ground. Everyone is around the fireplace drinking
warm soothing cocoa.
Night timeFeeling night's chilly kiss against my skinNight time in Free Verse More Like This
Watching as the fire dances its wild dance
Free and unfettered
Acidic smell of flames drifting through the air
Faces illuminated by the firelight
Ghouls of another century
Another time claiming them as their own
Ashy remnants of paper spiraling through the air
Mimicking fireflies as they return to the earth
Strands of music float leisurely in the air
But the peace of deep-seated happiness glows from within
Past:Present:FutureEarlier you asked me, "What was wrong?"Past:Present:Future in Free Verse More Like This
Later I can tell you, "Nothing is wrong."
First I needed you.
Then, I found I can stand on my own.
I saw with clouded eyes the world going by
Then my vision cleared and I can see exactly were I went wrong
I thought life was a perfect bubble
Able to protect us and shelter us as it sees fit.
Maybe clear away some of the soap so we can tell what the world is really about
But keep us tucked away for safekeeping.
I knew that life was had of it's ups and downs.
I knew that that it was full of them.
I know that somedays I'm just along for the ride
And others I control it
I know that now that we were a mistake
That you should have waited for her
I will soon find out, just how painful life can be
Without that special someone
I should have known that love can wait
I suppose I should have guessed
I knew that life had ups and downs
I never thought you'd be one of them
This worldThis world of liesThis world in Free Verse More Like This
All masks and smoke and mirrors
This world of hurt
All good intent and poorly disguised ambition.
This world of fear
All spite and blackmail and hate
This world of love
Candy coated poison for anyone to pick
Built on blood and bones
Treachery and deceit
False gods and wrongful idols