Wiersz o oceanieskłębiłeś sięWiersz o oceanie in Free Verse More Like This
w bezbronną górkę półsnu
pośrodku cichego chaosu
gdzieś nad tobą
toczył pianę szaleńczy krzyk
o klify wezgłowia
grzmoty ciężkich kroków
w strudzonym gęstym niebie
odgrodzony od świata
cienkim szkłem półprzytomności
zauważałeś tylko kolorowe ławice
kilka kropel rzeczywistości
spadło na twoją twarz
zimne i słone
nie obudziłeś się
Polsce. W podziece - za miloscdziękujemy!Polsce. W podziece - za milosc in Free Verse More Like This
za regularny gwałt
na naszej psychice
za trawiącą nas
za nabrzmiałą hipokryzję
wpychaną w nasze usta
za zalewającą nas
za stęchły pocałunek cenzury
odbierający nam głos
za zarażenie nas
za lubieżny dotyk
za wzbudzany pieszczotliwie
za cały ten ból
dla waszej rozkoszy
za spłodzone przez was
dzieci - pasożyty - paranoje
za waszą miłość!
Mysl o rozlanym niebiespierzchnięta rana ust pękłaMysl o rozlanym niebie in Free Verse More Like This
twardy krzyk uderzył świadomość
do wtóru grzmotu
nierówne niebo mleka
rozlało się zdziwione
powoli osiadały na mieliznach
kpiły dwa słońca
gorące i bezlitosne
Apokalipsa numer pięćset dziewięć
niebo stało się morzem
wymieszało się z krzykiem
Amenprzygarnij mnieAmen in Free Verse More Like This
zanurz spokojne dłonie
w szalejącym zgiełku
pod skołatanym niebem
w cichą kołdrę ramion
satynową pościel ust
w butelkę czerni
niech się stanie
niech się stanie
niech się stanie...
EliminacjazamknięciEliminacja in Free Verse More Like This
w klatkach 4x4
o ścianach w radość
twardą i ostrą bielą
nadmiarem zimnej zieleni
wypaczeniem tego świata
na wpół strawioną papką
lejącą się z telewizora
niemalże już zmarli
na wewnętrzną wklęsłość
nie mogą się bronić
triumfalny śmiech tyrana
wiąże im ręce
omdlałe oczy są zamykane
propaganda na pół z cenzurą
hipokryzja z domieszką pogardy
nienawiść pod postacią kłamstw
po raz kolejny
odmienność została zniszczona
śmierć zagłuszyła cichy szloch
wyciekająca wraz z myślami
a nad grobem
według protokołu postępowania
Za kwadrans szosta, 21 wiekwymarłe uliceZa kwadrans szosta, 21 wiek in Free Verse More Like This
pełne są zimna
nikt już nie pamięta
jakie naprawdę jest życie
i w niskiej rozdzielczości
grupki kolczastych buntowników
uchlani w sztok leżą
wśród swych gnijących idei
mury pamiętające krew
oślepione są grafitti
szara historia ugina się
pod bezpoodstawną nienawiścią
zabierają swe czapki
brzęczące garścią drobniaków
brudnych od pogardy
pod stopą rozbrzmiewa wystrzał
skryty w bramie cień
za kwadrans szósta
dwudziesty pierwszy wiek
Welcome To Beyond HumanWizje zrodzone w podświadomości.Welcome To Beyond Human in Emotional More Like This
Nigdy nie widziane.
Nigdy nie skonstruowane.
Nie wspomnienia i nie pomysły.
Oderwane od kontekstu światy, niepokojąco niecodziennie wytrzebione z ludzi. Niczym opuszczone z nieznanych przyczyn budynki lub postnuklearny świat. Brudne i puste. Zalane pseudosterylnym, wyjałowionym z ciepła, bladym światłem. Zima bez śniegu, lecz z nienaturalnie wszczepionym w nią, słodkawym posmakiem wiosny.
Brudny, wyschnięty dworzec kolejowy wśród martwych, dzikich traw. Szaro-żółtawy. Bezludny. Osnuty smogiem. Niebezpieczeństwo, którego nie widać, lecz które czuć na plecach.
Wyrwanie ze świata.
Brudne, zachmurzone niebo. Szaro-granatowawe. Rozcięte szeroką, ropiejącą graffitti przekątną wiaduktu k
We don't need no educationwy...We don't need no education in Free Verse More Like This
wgryzacie się w mój umysł
cholerne swędzące uczucie
całą mą kreatywność
na wylot przerytą świadomość
Na dnie czernirozmigotane złotoNa dnie czerni in Free Verse More Like This
zbliża się i kusi
z szumem zalewa umysł
głęboko w chłodną czerń
a na jej dnie
jest cicha przestrzeń
a na jej dnie
a na jej dnie
wszyscy ci poeci
nie mający dokąd uciec
przed rozszalałym światem
zbliża się i kusi
stojąc na krawędzi przytomności
szykuję się do skoku
głęboko w chłodną czerń.
Wazkiszkło faluje i pękaWazki in Free Verse More Like This
ścieka i kapie
gorące i słone
w trawie pełzną motyle
z naderwanymi skrzydłami
są milczące i drżące
nikt nie wie czy cierpią
wbija się drzazgą w serce
drapiący w gardło krzyk
rozbija się o głuchy lód
lot godowy ważek
jest taki piękny
pasja i prędkość
kotłuje się i parzy
nienawistne słowa pogardy
horyzont jest łagodny
malowany na błękitno
w miękkie białe smugi
sznury nie dały się zerwać
werżnęły się w nadgarstki
uderza w rozpaloną skórę
i przynosi zmrok
Lost: One InnocenceWhat happened to the little girlLost: One Innocence in Free Verse More Like This
Who danced through the sun and carved
Her initials into the tree?
When did those letters become lines of hate
Carved in misery into her skin?
When did the goal become simply to survive?
When before it was to stop biting her nails?
When did the crayon clutched in her hand
Become a bloody razor blade?
The voice that sang sweet nursery rhymes
Now has to speak of feelings darker
Than anyone should feel.
When did it all change?
No point trying to claw back the innocence,
It is lost forever now.
StreamingSun gazes over glittering pigeonsStreaming in Free Verse More Like This
As they scatter like confetti through the sky.
Gold catches the scratched glass as you move,
Glimmering against the white of your eye.
Breeze ruffles your hair with airy fingers
And you fall deftly off the edge of the world.
The DaisyThe daisy,The Daisy in Free Verse More Like This
Petals white and soft as silk,
Wet with glistening dewdrops.
Clutched in a cold hand,
White knuckled and lifeless.
The arm is creamy white
And streaked with bloodied gashes,
Deep trenches of carved misery.
The crumpled body lies still and awkward,
In a pink and lacy dress,
Adorned with velvet flowers and bows.
Her hair, flowing in lazy curls around her head,
Is spread across the soft dewy grass,
Damp with blood.
Her face is peaceful, no pain is shown,
Although it is streaked with cold, sticky tears.
Delicate eyelids are folded over sullen eyes,
Soft lips are slightly parted in a silent cry.
Her other hand is pressed to her head,
A strange gesture, if you cannot see
the dull coldness of the gun metal,
Pressed firmly to her shattered skull.
The morning sunlight shines above,
Illuminating the portrait of pain below.
The clouds amble through the sky,
They remember everything.
They have watched this lonely little girl,
With no ability to save her.
They are only wistful clouds,
To a TeacupO magnificent vessel of afternoon tea;To a Teacup in Free Verse More Like This
Thy pearly skin so decorated, is quite a delight to see.
Ne'er fear, sweet teacup,
The delicate cousin of fine crockery;
Thy tender fragility is finely defended by thy saucer.
Be not anxious if a little tea is spilt,
Thy calling is to the whole tea within thee.
Thou can always marvel at thye spectacle
Of a little milk infused with the amber gold,
As the two become one fine dusky colour.
Thy companions lie as the fragrant cake
And sturdy scone.
Thy only fear must be the abomination;
If thou is dropped, and thou doth plummet
To the floor, thy death is foully imminent.
Alas! What abomination for thee, pretty teacup,
To be infected with a sickly fracture.
Thy sweet structure must be treasured as it lasts;
For our most delectable afternoon tea
Would ne'er be so finely admired
Were it not for thee.
The ArtistThe glide of the hand, the creator.The Artist in Free Verse More Like This
The taunting whisper of pencils,
Jealously hiding the secrets of genius.
The swift, careful curves,
The soft, tender stroke.
The mind behind, so expert,
Cannot be guessed.
Is it madness to attempt
Such impossible beauty?
Will we ever know?
How would we even begin?
Is he so empty?
Because, when he draws,
He takes his soul from his body
And onto the page.
SmilePicking at corners,Smile in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Then spreading so delicately
Into glowing eyes.
DisenchantedPlucking at heartstringsDisenchanted in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Like the dewdrops of sorrow,
Feelings glide on air.
Those sweet notes that once
Dripped like my own crimson wrists,
Now caress the scars.
That voice that joined me
In heartbreak and helplessness,
Still crooning softly.
I take a breath in,
I am hit by that same train,
Rather than thinking,
Than dreaming of my final day,
I can smile in peace.
As the chord closes,
I am sure in the knowledge
That I can be free.
The Embrace and the ArrowShe walked across the floor,The Embrace and the Arrow in Free Verse More Like This
Footsteps loud against the silence, announcing her every move.
Her breathing was ragged with love,
Her eyes smudged the vision with pure lust,
As her gaze fell upon him.
His hair hung in glossy locks,
His sculpted face melted with love as she met his gaze.
Her feet kept steady balance in their slow step
As her fragile heart rattled like a dove against her ribs.
She tucked a strand of hair that hung over her eyes
Behind her ear, like a bright red feather it was
Against her milky skin.
Her eyes swivelled like blue crystals, taking in the room;
Its whitewashed walls, the stone grey floor
That was so cold beneath her bare feet.
She was dressed in but a summer gown,
Sheer fabric murmering against her skin.
Her face was moulded into a shy smile,
She could not frown when his face was in her gaze.
They drew closer with every shaky step she took,
Until they were but a hand's breadth apart.
She could inhale his deep scent,
Feel its glorious smoothness fill her very c
CalmI sat in a tiny room, alone but for one nurse at my side. The walls were grey and laced with cobwebs, and the barred window was a throttling reminder of this prison. I closed my eyes, the cool lids slipping over my burning, tingling eyes. I yearned to find some solace, some peace.Calm in Short Stories More Like This
The moment my eyelids fastened into the seam that closed them, I saw a face. The skin was stretched over the twitching veins, as if the bone was growing constantly beneath it. The eyes were wider than anything, the eyelids stretched back as if they were about to burst open. The mouth was wide open, too. The teeth were blunt, just ridges of white among the grey gums.
The sight of this face gave me shudders of terror that became physical as the fear progressed. I ripped my eyes open with such a force that it felt as if they were puching back into my brain. The nurse noticed and told me abrubtly,
'Calm down.' The sharp sterile voice rang in my ears.
'Calm.' I repeated firmly, my voice cracking. The word just sli
Swallowing Secretsi've learned to pop pills,Swallowing Secrets in Free Verse More Like This
without tasting a thing
but swallowing secrets,
still leaves a sting
Split Mei want to split my skin,Split Me in Free Verse More Like This
from the tips of my toes,
to the corners of my eyes.
i want to remove all my skin,
section by section,
i don't care that i'll bleed
i don't care that i'll hurt
i'm just so sick of these marks,
scars and blotches are not ornaments,
i am not proud of them
I'm Sorryi'm sorry i slipped upI'm Sorry in Free Verse More Like This
i'm sorry i showed my true colors
it's not my fault, i promise!
it was them, the voices in my head
they gathered in my throat instead
now truths and confessions are slipping through my teeth,
She's Wonshe's always here,She's Won in Free Verse More Like This
screaming at me, nagging
she never forgets, and won't let me either
never find love
never amount to anything
pills are all you deserve
there's no reason for you to live
I know, you told me
every day, dragging
shove the pills down my throat,
take the razor in your hand, tear my worthless flesh
knot the rope, get me ready
you've been waiting for this, h
You Are A Goddamn Pheonix"Right now I want you to do whatever it takes to calm down. Take deep breaths- exhale longer than you inhale and hold yourself with your arms because no matter how much I wish I could, I can’t. Then, I want you to listen very closely.You Are A Goddamn Pheonix in Free Verse More Like This
We are human. We are strong, we are defiant, we are determined. We walk despite people who try to bring us down. We breathe even though sometimes the air tastes bitter in our lungs. We live because we can. Sometimes we fall, but that’s okay. Humans are flawed. Humans can be vulnerable and we can feel so very, very alone. That’s the thing, though. You’re blindfolded and walking barefoot through fire and it hurts, but if you continue marching and look a little closer, you will see that there are people all around you who want to help you. There are people who care about you and people who want you to be happy. I’m sorry that your mom doesn’t see how badly you really are struggling. If it’s any consolation, I t
Existential Crisismaybe its in moments like thisExistential Crisis in Free Verse More Like This
when you're tearing up
and you don't know if its because
your eyes are too dry
or you've been popping pimples
or if you're actually sad
when you're not really sure what you mean
and you're not really sure of anything
so you're still debating on whether or not
you should even try to explain this feeling
because you don't know if it's anything
when you're not scared and your not lonely
but you don't know if you ever can be
and that's he most terrifying thing of all
because if you cant be then you might always be
maybe its in moments like this
every single moment
when you question it
and cry over it
and obsess over it
but you really cant get over it
OverflowingI swallowOverflowing in Biography & Memoir More Like This
600mg of sanity
in a cold clear glass
with liquid memory
and hydrogen voices
filling the space
between each breath.
As the medication
sinks into my soul
the delusions gently vanish
leaving only echoes
and the fingerprints
of madness on my skin.
The chemicals wash over me
in calming waves
until I see the world
in a softer light
under the same sky.
It's like breathing underwater;
everything is quiet
TerryTerry is having E.C.T tomorrowTerry in Free Verse More Like This
to electrify the voices
until they drip away.
into his head while he slept
and whispers sleepy lullabies until
all lights go out.
Hospital Collection: MeltingMeltingHospital Collection: Melting in Biography & Memoir More Like This
I watch the doctor
hand out pills
bright with promise and health.
I take two Valium doses
and something that melts
under my tongue.
A Rose by Any Other NameA Rose by Any Other Name in Biography & Memoir More Like This
In a white hospital bed, pale as the lifeless bones of a decaying skeleton, with my flesh exposed through the backless dress of my hospital gown, I listen to nurses discuss my mental health. I can taste the quiet tap of a pen on paper and their tiny smiles of contempt.
Shame comes in waves. Its not like a scalpel or the cold touch of a surgeons hand. They never tell you that it can eat away at your insides like a virus. (That it eats you alive). Shame is not a symptom of the mentally ill. Its just a side effect.
In my creased hospital dress, I wish for death. The sweetest sleep away from detached, gloved hands and dissociative expressions. The never-ending hostile questions and the silent blame and accusations lying unspoken on dry lips.
You did this. Youre not sick. Youre just a twisted, manipulative lunatic.
Under medication and the slow Novocain drip of sedation, I wish for another disease. I want a tumor in my head something t
Silence is a MirrorV.Silence is a Mirror in Free Verse More Like This
I paint the air with
harmony and glance away.
Looking across the room,
I see wood and mirrors,
theatre seats and heavy curtains
marking tape- stage right.
Move down, stage left, bow.
The audience applauds.
Everything that falls
to the floor
shatters and receives
a standing ovation.
The curtains sweep across the stage
scattering little pieces like
jacks, and marbles.
The container is broken and empty
and I cannot take my medicine
I look up and into the
abysmal quiet and
I am not alone.
BesiegedIf, while thinking of me,Besieged in Free Verse More Like This
you are overcome with noise -
Noise that causes
in your synapses,
disrupts the signals
Noise that hums
with electrical impulses;
Noise that stiffens your bones
by arresting your nerves
with interfering frequencies;
Noise that swallows your serotonin -
I release you.
If, while thinking of me,
you are overwhelmed with honey -
Honey that sickens your stomach
with sweetness and hardens there;
Honey that covers your hands
and works its way through your hair;
Honey that fills your mouth
the way you taste,
the way you smile,
the way you breathe;
Honey that leaks gold
out of the grey folds
of your brain -
I release you.
If, while thinking of me,
you have one memory
that incites you to movement,
that reminds you to breathe -
GhostYour ghost is tree sap on my fingers.Ghost in Free Verse More Like This
It clings to me;
It grabs my hair;
It turns my fingers black as tar.
Your ghost is music in another room.
It is unintelligible, yet
Its pulse is inescapable;
It is just too distant to identify.
Your ghost is wanton desire.
It grips me in the dead of night;
It refuses to let me sleep;
It insights my legs to restlessness.
Your ghost is a weakened vein.
It seizes me silently,
Taking my breath suddenly;
It kills itself.
I Know How This Story EndsI know how this story ends.I Know How This Story Ends in Free Verse More Like This
It ends in a hospital bed
With a respirator, and with
A broken-hearted grandbaby
Begging for one last story-time.
I know how this story ends.
It ends, despite last wishes,
With a painted face and a starched
Suit, a casket, and a priest reading
Over last remains and final extras.
I know how this story ends.
It ends alone and in the dark,
With rotting, and with maggots
Held back for years by concrete,
Varnish, and preservatives.
I know how this story ends.
It ends with morphine and
With velvet and with hate
For every last marching second
That slowly takes us there.
EnvyMaiden.Envy in Free Verse More Like This
The space between us is slant rhyme,
Burning-in, saturation, and exposure time,
Ink curves he drew from a lead line,
The way his fingers fit in yours,
Instead of mine.
You are difficult to hone, granite.
I am prone to severing.
You are a vestige made of stone
That I could never be.
Are you what is happening to me?
Rain and gravity have
Weathered the weaker parts
They leave you standing
Strong, a pyramid, a mountain.
I am haunted: a cliff, daunted
By the sea.
Even ThoughThere will be no caged fingers,Even Though in Free Verse More Like This
no tendons finely tuned to A from tension.
There will be no clenched teeth, gritting rosin,
to make the final singing note growl.
There will be unwinding bed-sheets,
hands slowly releasing the tuning pegs.
There will be slowly sliding scales
as the four limbs loosen past playing.
There will be a simple, quiet exit,
not to ovation, but to a hushed audience
who anticipate an encore,
even though it is uncertain.
LunarI.Lunar in Free Verse More Like This
The curve and list of my lips
Is like a tide, here high and there low,
With ebb, flow, and pulled by something
I can't reach and will never know.
The line that divides the mind
From left to right has twisted,
Contorted. It was once fine.
It is now indistinct and distorted.
Shape-shifting forms in the night and the dark
Rise from the river, take me, and walk.
Raking my nails through cloth and skin,
I beg myself to let me back in.
Beloved: OverdoseI.Beloved: Overdose in Free Verse More Like This
These pictures leave me breathless,
cramped, and sweating.
You discolor me where no one else
could ever be:
the lining of my stomach wall,
my trachea, my bones,
the bile rising up from me
All of the major organs
are coated in a
discordant combination of
primary blue and
It is in my bones,
and I cannot pour it or
bore it out.
CancerCracking my skull like a door in the wayCancer in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Invading my brain and ensnaring the gray
Clutching the crevices, cracks and creases
Tearing it out will rip me to pieces
A disease that seeds a rot and decay
This can't be cut out or taken away
WinterThe damp light thrown by overcast skiesWinter in Concrete Poetry More Like This
The musty smell of old books, and peppermint tea
remind me of the way the snow would soften
the noise resonating from the houses and the city nearby
and drape me in beautiful white silence
oh how I long for the winter months.
Anger and HatredWhat is this, This feeling?Anger and Hatred in Free Verse More Like This
Is this anger, or is it hatred?
I don't like the way it feels, this feeling.
But when I give you the benefit of my foolish doubt
and you let me down every time,
I have no other feeling inside my husk of a body.
Is it anger or is it hatred?
Can you let me feel, just this once,
what I have been to you all these years.
A half of a whole?
A slave to your tiny attention span?
What is it exactly, do you think I agreed to?
It could be anger but maybe hatred?
Hope is an evil killer.
I have fallen from high ones many times.
I have succumbed to the deadliest of sins,
a combination of both anger and hatred.
Maybe though, you can convince me
that Im not the evil sinner you made me.
Its both anger and hatred
thank you for clearing that up for me
can you see me?Every time I look at you my heart jumps.can you see me? in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Every time I exhale I gently whisper your name.
Every chance I get I walk as close to you as I can get without being noticed.
I inhale your scent until our briefly connected
paths part, Sending you back to your world, and me
alone to mine.
You never seem to notice me. Like Im a ghost, fading
in and out of the lives of the people around us.
You don't hear my cries of desperation.
The cries of a child who maybe too young to understand
I may be young, I may be foolish to want your affection, But I have felt love.
I recognize its touch.
I starve for you to feel that too.
When you look at me, I want you to see me.
I want to scream, I want to cry!
You still don't notice the obvious love I carry in
In my heart for you!
You ignore my presence like Im not even human!
When you look at me you don't see me.
five secondsYou look at mefive seconds in Concrete Poetry More Like This
your mind blank
my words still sinking in,
"I love you"
words you did not expect,
to leave my lips
If you never know the truth
you'll never know the love,
that I have carried with me,
for the brief two years I've known you.
We both shes,
standing here, not thinking
of the hes, its, and theys.
You look at me,
my words have finally seeped in.
the last five seconds we spent together.
the last five seconds I saw you,
I was the only one on your mind,
for those five seconds.
I know I cannot ask
for anything more then that.
for those five, precious seconds.
mimicyou mold my reality to match the fashionmimic in Concrete Poetry More Like This
statement of the porcelain you eat off of.
Like a child you see me as your toy.
Painless, emotionless, artificial.
My mouth is sewn in a false eternal smile,
hiding inside what was always denied for so many years.
Your hand is warm but your heart is cold,
your lungs blackened, and your blood is soot.
Your skin feels as though its filled with sand.
You are an animal, faceless, infinite.
Untouched by the hatred of so many.
My glassy eyes show your reflection
and hide my shame.
I was created in your image,
to walk the path you do after you die.
I was created to be just like you.
But I am real, not just an mimic of your image.
All these years pass leaving me to
forever remain a nameless plaything.
To forever remain trapped under the overbearing weight of
Although I'll leave, these thoughts of you never will.
To me you will forever remain...a child.
was I not good enough?I've finally lost you haven't I?was I not good enough? in Free Verse More Like This
Your cold, blank looks are tearing through me.
The stench of the American tobacco companies
float past your lips and into the air I breath.
I used to be able to recognize you
by your scent alone.
Now I only smell the cancer growing in your lungs.
The inevitable result of a weakness,
a weakness you knew you'd die for.
So, I see all of this happening,
from a cage made from your expectations,
wondering why was such a strong woman
swayed by such an insignificant temptation?
Why, mother, was I not a good enough reason
for you to stop the first time you quit?
So, I sit here in this cage of your expectations,
and think about how Im losing you,
to the American tobacco company,
a company that thrives in death.
blind to the love of musicI look at you.blind to the love of music in Concrete Poetry More Like This
not really sure that I see you,
for who you are,
underneath your flawless skin.
I steal a brief glance at you,
from my corner of the orchestra.,
Watching as your gentle hands,
move across the fingerboard,
of the bass you so gracefully play.
the deepest of notes,
move through my mind as well as my heart.
And stir up the deepest of feelings,
I've carried with me,
for the thousands of minutes I spent,
falling in love with you.
You look at me.
I shy away wondering,
can you see my feelings,
behind the blindness to our love of music?
NosebleedTruth:Nosebleed in Free Verse More Like This
Your nosebleed is making me feel nauseated. It's a bone-deep kind of nausea, too. Drip, drip, drip, into the marrow.
I am going to watch you cough and then bleed out of your left nostril (a souvenir of a fight you caused under street lights) and pretend the drops you're making on my clean linoleum and on my white shirt are beautiful.
I think your eyes are turning yellow again. It's the colour of buttercups, surnrises, jaundice.
You know you have bloodshot, spidery eyes, but I'm going to smile sweetly and tell you they're blue so you'll feel a little better about staying awake all night looking at green contact lenses so you'll be just like me.
You said that you were jealous of me yesterday, but you said it while polishing your chipping teeth, so I'm not sure what to believe.
I am going to reassure you that I am nothing special - I can't write, can't paint, I can't mimic a distant solar system, and you're going to pretend that you believe me, but you
Snakeskin'The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves.'Snakeskin in Free Verse More Like This
It's a quote, maybe, from someone whose name she scribbled over in some raggedy textbook.
She knows it, though.
But she's still dressing up her face with black tar and agent orange and calling it make-up. More, more, more, because that will never hold. That won't hide everything. It's a matchstick of a masquerade, but she lights them and curls her hair with them. She's pretending she likes to play with fire, because that's how the guys loaded with cologne and testosterone like it.
She's a butterfly in a cocoon, but she's tearing off her chrysalis with chemical fingernails and pretending it is a snakeskin. She wants them to think she is as dangerous as a snake, so she is twisting, constricting, twisting her words, abandoning them for her fairytales and soap operas with her as the dramatic star of the show.
And somehow, just somehow, they're all believing her reptilian game, but I'm not.
And she knows it.
Strange Circus'Ladies and gentlemen...'Strange Circus in Free Verse More Like This
The ringmaster stands at the centre of a circle made of candy canes arranged like a centrifuge around him. His audience is one broken whistle - broken in the way that it can only make low pitches, a necklace without its pendant, and forget-me-nots that have been forgotten weeks before. None of them pay any attention to his ostentatious speech. It's the same every time.
'...Boys and girls...'
The tightrope-walker has been spending too much time in the funhouse with the warped mirrors and has developed some odd way of thinking - she, a slim sprite in glitter hurricanes, seems to think she's an elephant in sparkling spandex. She wavers at the halfway point, looks down, then remembers her delusion and falls accordingly, landing on a floor covered in sawdust for lack of crashmats.
'...Children of all ages...'
There's one girl who looks fresh out of rosy cheeks and awkward gravity, stood amongst the tents and roaring cats, knowing her
Lionheart (with an indigo tongue)'You need to stop swearing', I think, every time I remember what words you'd useLionheart (with an indigo tongue) in Free Verse More Like This
to colour the air in your choice shades of blue mist. I think of what I'd say to
you if you used any of those words about me, but I recall that I am the size and
embodiment of a mouse: small, shy, timid, and definitely not able to stand up for
myself in the face of someone so brusque and indigo-tongued.
I could have the heart of a lion for all you know, though, if you'd bothered to listen to it.
The sort that beats forty times per minute, rather than my pace of ninety.
The sort that will not hesitate to roar in your face in a flurry of mane and cat's claws, the sort that will recline
in the savannah and not rely on human voices and petty remarks to confirm its power.
I'm not a lion. I am a haphazrd chemistry experiment, lithium and a red flame.
I'm a mockery of a mockingbird and a plagiarism of a peacock. I'm what happens
when someone pours an ounce of poetry into a tin of glitter, mixed well with
StaticSilence is broken by a coughStatic in Free Verse More Like This
a hacking cough escaping from water-damaged lungs
sparking with waterlogged microchips. A wisp of smoke
curls from cracked lips, the near-skeletal smirk of someone who
is a ghost in their own shell, a pasty glow about dissolving
skin, sclerae turning to ashen.
Centuries have eroded, crashing and screaming and lamenting,
on their granite knuckles, chipped and wearing in places
the very same knuckles that smashed up every broken
television, every camera lens and the photographer
weilding it, every phone, every string, every
connection to any hint of change.
AbsintheThat sallow-cheeked girl told me that every nightAbsinthe in Free Verse More Like This
she hallucinated of sprites and pixies weaving between her eyes
and she giggled every time she did.
We shared an awkward silence before she dissolved into a fit
of laughter on my bedroom floor, but it's a harsh kind of laugh
and she strikes me as the type who knows she is not there
but strings pearl teeth and magenta lips onto a pole of her own
Meanwhile, there's a boy sipping absinthe out of champagne flutes,
spilling it from lips like colanders onto the waiting floor.
He talks to paintings on the wall like they'll console him.
He tells a portrait of a woman in wedding finery to
'have a good day' before he breaks down in
chartreuse tears, dripping into the puddles of spilled alcohol
beneath his earthbound feet.
That girl is in my mirror again, staring straight at me with a
torch's intensity with eyes that can't decide if they're yellow
or green. She's grinning as she puts on a sparkly masquerade mask,
spins on the s
PyromaniaI want to see a light show in ochre and dancersPyromania in Free Verse More Like This
two thousand degrees in heat: I want to watch them
all traipse across my bedroom floor with their
encore in grey.
Blistered fingers flicking cigarette lighters
to see an orange pirouette turn for me,
my parents worry that I smell of smoke but they
don't know the reality.
The truth is that you can find me weaving
kerosene trails around the moon and Saturn's rings
telling acorns and oak leaves to enjoy our
favourite disease -
So I flick the lighter once again and speak
to the blackened walls and singed floors:
'Don't fear the kiss of the flame
don't let them douse the burns you reap
don't stop dancing, just don't stop dancing
Snippy - Poem of DoomSnippy - Poem of Doom in Free Verse More Like This
Oh Captain, my Captain! I say it to mock,
You're lucky as hell but to me you're a c***.
Please spare me the missions, I've no head for heights,
Balloons and big lists lead me only to blights.
Evading the probes of an alien race,
Then having to witness your > : ( angry face...
But what choice have I? I'm involved in these fights,
With Cancerous space-monsters full of red sprites,
And Lemonade weirdos and God knows what next,
Just how can you stay so serene and unvexed?
What price should I pay for your simple delights,
Be eaten by whales after soiling my whites?
I know you won't listen, but you'll come unstuck,
And one of these days you'll run right out of luck,
Your empire will fall, and your ego besides,
It's karma for sure, like the turn of the tides,
And then I will lol, sitting in my own muck,
Coz after all this I just won't give a f***.
2nd person fiction and YouYou like fiction written in the second person. You may not admit it to yourself, but deep down, you really do. It teases you with its confrontational otherness, its flamboyantly displayed post-modernism, its teeth.2nd person fiction and You in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Do not look at its teeth. You do not want to look at its teeth.
Fiction written in the second person and you have a long history of denial. At first, you were sure it couldn't be done. Then it was done, and it was done to you, and you liked it, too, but it was only the one time and you were kind of drunk. It was an experiment, and it was interesting as an experiment, but that was all it was.
Only, of course, it wasn't.
Fiction written in the second person has invaded your dreams, and what's worse, your sexual fantasies. You'd be picturing a luscious blonde, rubbing her rubbables, yearning for your touch, when suddenly a voice would pop into your head, calmly narrating what you were doing: "You are picturing a luscious blonde," the voice would say, "rubbing her rubbables. Hey
imminenthushimminent in Free Verse More Like This
there is a nothing inside me
i am lying fallow with my
split skin and hollowness
capture me here and hold me
wrench apart my ribs and
let me feel your hands
around my heart
i will not be remade.
The Cartographer's DaughterEvery night, he would fold her into his arms before she slept. Creases grew into her, turning brown with wear, and she loved them. When she woke up in the night, dreaming of darkness, he would take her to his desk and draw for her a map of her face, turning it into another world. Tracing the contours of her smile, he would scrawl a warning, "Here be monsters", whispering to her that she was a dragon when angry.The Cartographer's Daughter in Short Stories More Like This
As she grew older, she populated his maps with creatures and peoples from the books she read, or her own creations. He taught her to draw, and to write with an old inkpen, in a cursive script her teacher could make neither head nor tail of. She made him angry once, drawing in the drying sand with her finger, and smudging the ink. When he was angry, mountain ranges grew across his forehead and caverns opened in his cheeks. Here be lions.
Walking home from school, she knew the local area inside out; from the maps he had drawn and taught her. He would copy them onto o