it isn't really therecannot kenit isn't really there in Free Verse More Like This
that once again
this thing we see
in clarity -
is just a new mirage.
what dreams create will dissipate,
as dawning light reveals it as a shadow.
[that brilliant inspiration was a shadow?]
we lie awake a-worry over absolutes.
nothing comes to mind until
we start to drift away.
then, the answer is so obvious
our calmness is complete,
and so, we sleep.
early to arise aware
with optimism -
no clue as to why,
that night again to worry.
llp - sep2010 - dA
lost poetryhow human it is to repeatedly think,lost poetry in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
"oh, that's so perfect,
i'll never forget" -
then draw a blank.
there's no excuse;
i have a recorder.
cute little thing -
perfect working order.
...but where is it?
llp - aug2010 - dA
below the treelinein mountain chill, immobilebelow the treeline in Free Verse More Like This
beneath scattered night-blown clouds -
i see hundreds of evergreen trees
like attentive dark arrows, aiming
straining toward a full moon
they appear unified in readiness -
perhaps to pursue a place
less despoiled by... Us?
llp - dA - dec2014
balligomingo...we dance -balligomingo... in Free Verse More Like This
allow lips to brush
tantalize each other
dive in pleasure
goosebumps on arms
traverses in shivers
love of love
not of lust
desire of desire
as in a wire
soon to erode
i whisper your name
post quake [a tanka]post quake in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
now there are ripples
soothing in mood and rhythm
there was more before
a shush as each new murmur
meets a silent sheltered shore
llp - dec2011 - dA
if only this - IIfirst, the haiku -if only this - II in Free Verse More Like This
in essense of knowing thee
ere my learning me
~ ~ ~
of learning you
to save what lives
inside of me.
a sterile plant,
not to begin
a blossoming -
of fertile nourishment.
anew from you,
sweet liquid to waft
on gentle finger-tip,
a drop to draught,
daring to sip.
supple in limb,
for time and time,
soul long sole,
a centered heart,
now taking to flower,
if quiet wishes
in clumsy diction,
could prove the power...
to be prediction.
llp - sep2009 - dA
new - oct2011 - dA
sweet and beautifulbeginnings, now beginning -sweet and beautiful in Free Verse More Like This
[just the jotting of a starting]
this poem inspired by you,
you, more sweet than beautiful,
more beautiful than sweet.
does it depend on temperature,
time of day or night,
sitting to the left of me,
standing on the right?
no, it depends on how you feel,
the subject of the day,
relationships with others,
all the do and say.
both attributes will vary,
with daily ebb and sway,
...but neither sweet nor beautiful
shall ever fade away.
llp - may'10 - dA
take a Mulligancome weary to the latter days,take a Mulligan in Free Verse More Like This
in the callow ways;
driven by some hidden need
with souls untended -
gone to seed.
the years went hiding;
we must find them,
work to live it right this time.
use our magic,
flow like honey,
slow and sweet - to savor, prime.
llp - may'10 - dA
no one is immunewe attempt absolution through revelation;no one is immune in Free Verse More Like This
use needles upon or within the skin.
as an ink filled pen spills insides out,
we emote, in hope of catharsis... but
unhappily appear as self indulgent fools.
llp - nov2011 - dA
something to write about...I'd been drug sniffedsomething to write about... in Free Verse More Like This
addled & otherwise
by agents in
points of origin
hope to heart to god
like father thought
hand to fist to mouth
like mother taught
as if no one had
colored those pale
so I shook
as all good books
to the shape
you've made me
I tried to trace
as a map
but found you'd
golden ingredientsminneapolis hadgolden ingredients in Free Verse More Like This
eyes so blue
I couldn't sleep
wanted to wander
lose myself in her
but memory's unmade
dreams depart with
I ate up pavement
like a twin city
and though I left
before you loved me
I couldn't ask
for a better way
to fill my hours
flowersandrobotsthe futureflowersandrobots in Free Verse More Like This
judging the duration
by the a-
mount of empty chairs
arranged at your
from the tulips
while their true lips
and the price
of every present
is the former you
the never pleasant
tread quiet, tread deepnight is the stale scenttread quiet, tread deep in Free Verse More Like This
of collected breaths
leaving the light on
in spite of despising it
the almost never silent
and the body
hope is a half-truth
hope lies in hiding it
the days rest their weight
in the lines of your face
and they ache
skin's a scribbled-on postcard
sincere and unsent
and a memory's
where you left it
It's everything...I've found a spot where the floor creaks just for me.It's everything... in Free Verse More Like This
I sit & wait there
for the boards to collapse,
for my unannounced visit
to the neighbors.
I sit & wait
at lights, and in lines,
and in conversations
that go in circles.
I sit & wait for the music to end,
just so that I can go home.
I keep quiet as the world sleeps;
afraid to wake someone up,
afraid to sleep alone.
I've built a routine
dependent on falling apart
and still somehow manage
to be surprised
by every last bitter goodbye,
by every last haunting regret,
by every last
pick a catchphrase, die aloneattention all skeletons:pick a catchphrase, die alone in Free Verse More Like This
announce your exit!
find yourself fixed
in new flesh
less them guts
to spell grit
clamp the new bit
you're so proud
to be bursting
have such high hopes
with your yesterdays
like paper ghosts
who merely moan
to move the room
but I am not buying
love poorly conceived
(with a twist!)
poems with all
the aching heart
of a grocery list
formerly known as alwayssometimes I sense thatformerly known as always in Free Verse More Like This
in the way
sparkling shine and
dulled sense of rejection
but running at the mouth again
and I'm traveling the circle
your thoughts made
and if ever there was anything
we lost it
tongue stumbling over steps
and sorry boy
you love to dance
eyes locked on loving interests
and I loved
standing in between
you were interested
a footnote explained
(getting good at goodbyes
and not good enough for anything)
fifty percent of almost halfI've always been best at blurryfifty percent of almost half in Free Verse More Like This
in the meanwhiles
the fragility familiar
like the shape
rain makes on impact
measuring the time it takes
in these fabricated hints
and not-so-subtle displeasure
like love's ad infinitum
not a finite item
the fine line
I was born
sure I could
scream down the sun
instead of subjection
these days I know to know
and when placing stars
and those I orbit
the end will find you anyway
fire works...america (the beautiful?)fire works... in Free Verse More Like This
I courted you cross-country
and it was no easy ride
remembering time well wasted
with purpled mountains
and darkened skies
but your love leaves scars
and only sometimes
please pardon these promiscuous thoughts
scattered like miles left behind
and the last remaining years of youth
we've yet to let die
I've seen some
and rapid decline
grown tired of windswept plains
languishing in the shadow
of their great
and terrible god
on freedoms promised
and equality implied
US (that's) All
I enjoy her companyGiven her experience beingI enjoy her company in Free Verse More Like This
I'd like her to design me
that won't complain
Simple, reallyI eat food for the sameSimple, really in Free Verse More Like This
reason I take compliments:
To keep moving.
TylahknowYou pop a pill for fatigueTylahknow in Free Verse More Like This
and your head is spinning,
live and ingrown,
and I ask you to sleep,
and you whisper:
"I can't wake up"
Under that homeThere, I could write at phantoms.Under that home in Free Verse More Like This
The eyes in which I reflected,
were a meaning to tie trying to.
When I believe that there is
only one, words all fail.
There, the bleeding of ink
was a shimmering. Something seen,
something to be consumed,
to prove myself corporeal.
ReinventialationIf the middle's mediocre,Reinventialation in Free Verse More Like This
I'll just consider myself
Writing forBinder-bracer on my paper-wristWriting for in Free Verse More Like This
and a pen-for-tooth smile
fills out my
why I don't connect to people
Tasty AND trendyI'm following theTasty AND trendy in Free Verse More Like This
trend of the
with whichYour intentions movewith which in Free Verse More Like This
Like a holy-witch
With a broomstick
RaidThere's food in my bed,Raid in Free Verse More Like This
so now there's ants.
so I set out some traps.
It killed all the ants,
but they're still in my bed.
I told my mother about it;
she's taking me to therapy.
waterwater runs out in a thin stream into a bowl already part full. quiet yet loud it is in silence. it could be a waterfall, a foss, a force, a cataract. it could be Victoria. or Angel in the forest cliffs. and yet it iswater in Free Verse More Like This
seeking the level of the sea, the lowest it can go.
where it would do nothing on its own. only the wind pushes it to accomplish, to do.
why do they disturb me?
when all i want is peace
stone heads above the deadgraveyard is the Moonstone heads above the dead in Free Verse More Like This
full and empty of bacteria that might have been
of wanderers wise
of wandering fools
how well that idiot poet of an ancient time has said
dust to dust
credit he assigned to the wrong being
and yet he spoke the truth
it is our end and our beginning
our eternal youth
angle of incidentsI never look in the mirrorangle of incidents in Free Verse More Like This
I'm uncomfortable with strangers
The me I was
just doesn't know
that man who's looking back at me
It's coming.October 1It's coming. in Free Verse More Like This
It was the first day that said "Summer is over."
That was many years ago. Every year since then
the dead and dying leaves have fallen
year after year after year has summer been murdered
that day of days comes and kills me
and for half the year I am worse than merely dead
cold and suffering no matter how hot the fire
no matter how calm the wind
no matter how thick the clothes
I hate the fall and winter with a fury that's imprisoned
by paralysing cold
the summer returns after my long agony
and once more I live
someday that year will come that will never come again
BlackRabbit saysBlackRabbit says>BlackRabbit says in Free Verse More Like This
"I'm early. I'm early. My world's not got here yet.
This Wonderland's a nightmare,
not the stuff of dream
There's too much crazy sanity.
I want my tea and cream
and other fellow bunnies
jackrabbits, hares, and all.
Machines of madness kill the people here
They live in fear of gladness for
tiny little things;
so they build the giant sadness
the stacks of stacks and stacks
smoking, falling, crumbling under
weight of expectations"
BlackRabbit throws his watch away
It breaks, and loosened springs
fling the gears into the sun
They melt like winter
BlackRabbit waits for his world to come
blistered silver facesat night, by riverblistered silver faces in Free Verse More Like This
shore like a beach
we walk at the edge of jungle
the moon lights all
you are a shaman
a wizard of love
your heat makes steam
rise over river
up toward the innocent moon
I'm astonished when
I see the fires
break out in jungle
the craters of the moon
spout lava on its plains
smoke blackens as it pains
like the moon's own face
open wounds leave scars
all around, the land
heaved up in burnt and hardened waves
you leave me with no traces
on your entirely empty face
how could I have ever thought I'd marked you
that you'd leave me lonely
in this place
Almost thereGetting close. I'm almost there. Flying low. I can see the south edge of town. Slowing down. There's the hill and the park down on the base of it, and the narrow little road that goes to the top, and the foot trails climbing up the hillside. Where I remember sledding down. The loop of the end of the bus line that ends in the park. Used to be a trolley line not long ago. I fly on over the hill and look a few blocks north. There. There. The house where I'm a child.Almost there in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I don't see anyone in the street. There's a car here and there in a driveway. Just a few. Maybe there are a few people at home in the houses, car or not. Anyway, I don't think that they can see me, so I land at the end of the little concrete walkway that goes to the front steps of my old house. Me and my Mom and Dad aren't home right now; I made sure to pick a time when we weren't. I knew I wouldn't be able to see us without breaking down, immobilised with the emotion of it. It's a little easier just to look at the little hous
smilingLeaves are most beautiful on the treessmiling in Free Verse More Like This
Autumn's fallen brilliance of dead reds
remind the primate eye
that show upon the tree
in its season of living green
In the season of dying
the forecast shadow of lack
our need fools us with colours of joy
It is a time of self-deceit
Smiling I dream of spring
skywritingThey say that in the ancient daysskywriting in Free Verse More Like This
writing on sky was commonly done
And yet in these old modern times
we no longer write, but simply haze.
pale moonshine lustre lost in dullest grey
how I wish that we descendents
had still some beautiful words to say
to write within
the untouchable sky
mad hatterI took a bath in mercurymad hatter in Free Verse More Like This
on the line of sun and shadow
And then I showered silvery
It was so cosmic
so amusing and so cool and hot
So after that
I sipped some tea
with all my bunny friends
We did billions of impossible things before dinner
and it was not just good but wonderful
I am so happy
and quite non-sane
Lost NightsIn the headlightsLost Nights in Free Verse More Like This
your hips are battleships
the ball & chain
of our sleeping pills
lodged in our throats.
My fingers are ripped
by your artillery &
I wrap myself in
walk along the edge
two inches of concrete
keeping us from
spraining our minds.
The cars on the highway
pass in light trails
The canaries of
your hands wave
singing, dying off
You don't know
the meaning of
twenty weeks of
holding your hands
between your thighs
I know it well.
the water stings
the laughter in
I love you
holds us like a rope
& the balance of
science & poetry
becomes a safety net.
An Hour AheadI tell timeAn Hour Ahead in Concrete Poetry More Like This
by the ribbons
through the shutters
the lines they take
around the room
like a road trip,
by the woman
on her cigarette break
cutting spherical patterns
into the pavement
& by the clock
waiting by my bed
like a lone soldier
the flashing glint
of his armor
keeping watch over
Disaster InstructionsAll I wanted wasDisaster Instructions in Free Verse More Like This
for you to stay
rest against the
& count every freckle
in the sky with me.
I was trying to
create my own miracle
staring at your goodbye
hitting the window
& becoming a
The sky was on fire
& every ashy ambulance
was taking you away
I loved you.
Guernica bombed itself
into your heart
I waited by the phone
to hear your anger
instead of all the
over the radio.
1950You were a housewife1950 in Free Verse More Like This
dancing along with the radio
skirt fluttering like hands
to the popular songs
as I sulked with Billie Holiday
in my domestic prison cell
waiting for another night
of half-sleep & candy pills.
You were enthralled
with arranging flowers,
cooking dead meat
& I looked at them both
as cadavers coming back
to haunt me.
Your husband came home
to a pot roast & cocktail
while mine only received me
drowning in vodka & expectations.
The boulder of
trying to win at something
I was never prepared for.
There is an art to creating a home
that you've mastered
I floundered along
with thick limbs
& a wish to run off to Paris
& pretend there was nothing to life
but words & movies projected in the sky.
A good wife is made from recipes,
fresh perfume & a need for complacency
my cloth is cut with birds singing in Greek,
stale cigarette smoke
& bouts of ennui
punishing myself nightly
with searching for blind spots
& finding none.
While you were practicing pe
SuicideI listen to your dirgeSuicide in Free Verse More Like This
& hold still, hold
& remind myself
of a girl I knew
who choked herself
out of her pain.
The stereo ticks off
in your old mouth
to drown in.
there are children
calling out like birds,
men severing ties
for a mediocre dinner,
into empty bottles
& sending them to
pulling out my eyelashes
for a man dead
ten years before
The sun settles
into the blankets
of the mountains,
I lay still
& pretend these
are your last moments
OleanderYou do not understandOleander in Free Verse More Like This
it is a slow pull
into heavier gravity,
the graying realization
that you are beyond
the vision line of your future
& now have to live anyway.
You grew up
in a home of matches
to see who could
blow down the house,
who could cry & speckle
the hours with grief.
The world sits
on an axis
& sometimes it hauls you
beneath the riptide
where the moon
cannot save you
you throw yourself
down the stairs like
you are a loaded gun
waiting to go off
when nothing happens.
Depression is bringing
poisonous milk to
& you have no idea
you can understand that,
ParadeThe horror in large crowdsParade in Free Verse More Like This
lies in its mass anonymity.
You endure the cold,
the fluttering of hands & feet behind you,
the brushes on your coat
You are an adult.
The body heat & mob breathing
all of it like a symphony
of collected life
shouldn't bother you.
You shouldn't fear the sapling
pushed next to you
his small bones
& proud winter coat
shouldn't evoke a feeling
of being drowned.
As you see an ocean of bodies
forcing themselves towards you,
all faceless & walking in unison,
you shouldn't feel like running
dashing into an alley
& hiding like they're a thunderstorm.
But you do
you panic & raise your voice
to the height of a small child
you force through the crowd
gripping a hood
like it's your mother's hand.
You stop breathing
that malignant air of togetherness
& collective joy
until you break off into a small square
& fumble for a cigarette
to calm the idiocy inside you
that wish to be alone
& away from all
MutationIf you tilt your headMutation in Free Verse More Like This
at the correct angle
inside the mirror
you can see planets
close to the skin,
close to bursting
from your neck.
The cobalt of
a day's death
the spaces in between
your electric spine
& tart insides
you light up
like the backside
of an eyelid
in the sunlight,
glow as a nightlight
or rapidly decaying
lighthouse on the edge
It's easy to see
the spots on your bones
tattoos of age
when you're staring
into a tree's rings.
You feel the cream
of your blood
for higher ascension
coming out of your ribs.
They poke out
unashamed of their task
you look down at them
like an alien invaded
& now understand
you were never human
to begin with.
You were created
to touch the stars
& become a constellation
on your 21st birthday.
A creature for the
weight of the world.
It's Safer at the BottomI'm watching cities bloomIt's Safer at the Bottom in Free Verse More Like This
in the cradles of cranes
or maybe June.
on the alcoholic's night,
thinking of touching
with a pinwheel
made of glass
or wanting slow motion
when all I get
is fast forward.
Maybe every cell
inside me has
its own self
separating inside me
until I'm just a frenzy
of shark cells trying
to eat me alive.
The buildings are
every time I try
to fall asleep.
I hear the shrieking
of train brakes
in the pitch,
maybe its all been
traded for contained
sunlight or atoms
to a beat to light
There is too much
to a night
more than I can bear.
Thursday comes & I'm
lifting the roof off
Maybe I'm just
trying to escape
night is black
as the bottom of
a well where
I have wept.
Laughing WithI wasn't laughingLaughing With in Free Verse More Like This
at God when he
broke his jaw
on the broken
rocks and never
saw the hate
or the camera
or when I spent
hours in the hospital
thinking of death
and its inhabitants.
I wasn't laughing
he couldn't get
his brain in order
and I visited him
and snuck looks
at his head to see
if I could spot the
scars inside him
from the fall
of becoming lesser
than you used to be
or when I kissed
him like a child
and he said not now
and I knew I'd
never see him
When she had
me in the room
with brought snacks
that could never
the magazines eating
at themselves slowly,
my mouth finding
to eat my fingers,
and the lines
of poems spread
over the IVs
I wasn't laughing.
When she cried
in the park
and I took her
in some mock
when she didn't cry
in the living room
with all the stopped
clocks and the one
running and ticking
away at the hope,
and I thought of
and breaking spirits
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.
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***.
A Broken Neon BulbSleepless nightsA Broken Neon Bulb in Free Verse More Like This
clicking frantically for water:
My seed yearns for a clue,
an answer for its
wordless, impossible question.
Will these efforts
Or will the tired branches
of this new, this oh-so new
shrivel with premature age
before they can
How many circles will I turn
before my leaves
lap up the sun?
And yet, I seek no oracle.
Should I have the choice,
I would take no powers
I am frightened.
What will become of me?
what will I become?
Should I Call a Priest?It's almost comical,Should I Call a Priest? in Free Verse More Like This
I HATE MYSELF I HATE MY LIFE I HATE EVERYTHING
the way you take things
WHY AM I EVEN ON THIS EARTH I'M A WASTE OF SPACE
NO DON'T SPANK ME STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP
way out of control.
Self-Deprecating LoveThe day that I laid eyes on you,Self-Deprecating Love in Free Verse More Like This
I was still a child,
but suddenly with fervor
my heart stirred and became wild.
I am still a child.
My love began to sprout and soar,
growing like a tree.
We loved as individuals
(I to you to me).
Our love is now a tree.
Eventually I grew obsessed
with what we had become,
and to your side I glued myself
and saw no other one.
What have we become?
I then tried, dear, to be like you,
but I had tried in vain;
You bested me in that contest
which ushered in much pain.
I have tried in vain.
[And after the dust has cleared ]
I now have cut the parasitic
moral from my host:
If you don't love yourself,
you try to be what you love most.
I love you the most
but to being myself, I give a toast.
Freedom(Open-mindedness is not a power.)Freedom in Philosophical More Like This
Hold up your hand.
Straighten it and make a fist. That arm is a solid structure, a column of cells, a staff.
It's simply a cylinder, and that is all.
(Open mindedness is not a force.)
Go up to a trashcan, place your hands on its side, and shove as hard as you can.
Try it. Watch the trashcan fly, its lid clanging open and its guts spilling over the pavement.
You did that. Notice the veins bulging from your arms.
Do you feel at peace?
(Open-mindedness is not a form of knowledge.)
These I know to be true: the sky is blue, blood is red, and the Earth is round.
"Do you deny sunsets, then? Do you expect only oxygen, and disregard calculus?"
i dont want to be wrong, its embarrassing
Now go outside.
Imagine yourself immersed in sky, wrapped in the great blue blanket.
There are thousands of clouds above you, some heavy with rain and others bursting with sunshine, and seagulls dip and dive around yo
I've taken you for granted.Momma,I've taken you for granted. in Short Stories More Like This
I couldn't fall asleep last night. As my hands wandered aimlessly over the wrinkled topography of my bed sheets, my fingers drunkenly ambled their way into the crevice at the head of my bed, and I pretended that your dream spirit was there. I took your transparent glimmer of a hand, and I whispered to you. I said, "I miss you. Although I've fallen in love with the frozen wasteland surrounding me, the familiar memory of your warmth is fading, and my first goal upon getting home will be to throw my arms around your shoulders."
I talked about how I wish I could have known you as a teenager, young and spunky and beautiful as the butterflies that flit though our backyard, the butterflies you're so very fond of. I imagine you in tattered jean overalls, a "country girl" with hair as golden as the sun-soaked wheat you'd help your father harvest every summer. You'd have two brothers, but you'd have more balls than the two of them put together and then some, and you'd work just as hard as
The Wing/Steel SeagullThe wing is solid, determined.The Wing/Steel Seagull in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It pulses with its own mechanical heartbeat, and I can practically hear it panting,
its metal underbelly clenching in anticipation.
Unnoticed on the surface, of course.
(wish the goddamn sun would shine a little brighter)
We back up like a wind-up racecar, and, predictably, we start to shoot forward into the brisk Cincinnati air. I stare at the wing, feel it grab hold of the winds beginning to kick like a frightened stallion, feel the steel rumble with feral intensity, unwavering, poker-faced. Yet, I can see that smile in the curve of the wing, that glint of adrenaline reflected as a diamond of sunshine in my eyes.
And as the steel crescent beside me grunts with ecstasy of the hunt, we
our roller-skate feet, leaping onto the back of the great Animal that the wing has so effortlessly tamed.
I swear to you, there's a lake in the sky. There's a great white iceberg that traps his reflection beneath an infinite sheet of waterglass, and when y
There's Life In the Dark.The night is our heart,There's Life In the Dark. in Free Verse More Like This
Pulsing with sweet static:
The violet ghost-voice of Norah Jones,
Lamps smoothing out the defined twinkle of the city,
Planes, perfume and incense cloaking the air in smoky desire,
Tall, lanky trees swaying, their sharp fingers tickling the purple sky,
Emerald and tiger's eye,
Shoot the moon.
We're on the move, my bright star.
The Scariest Thing of AllThe world hits the mute buttonThe Scariest Thing of All in Free Verse More Like This
so I can clearly hear
though the air, fireworks.
The world hits the mute button
so I can clearly feel
the organic emotion
in rehearsed cries
through the air, cold rain and sunlight.
The world hits the mute button
so I can clearly grow
in a fearless sporadic
through the air, whirlwind.
The world hits the mute button
so I can clearly deduce
in steel harmony
through the air, gold and old wood.
The world hits my mute button
so it can clearly state
in sour wavelengths
through the air, bitter green.
The spotlight wears an "Out Of Order" sign.
David FirthThere was a little boy named Sheila. He didn't like the name very much, but it was what his parents gave him in pretty Hanukkah wrapping paper for his third birthday (in June), and he lost the receipt a while ago.David Firth in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Sheila lived a few houses down from me, and you would often find us shooting at whatever living things we could find at the park till the sun got bored and fell down behind the ground-pimples.
One day, Sheila got very sick. He went to the hospital, and I visited as soon as I could and came into his room. There was a very old man in a dusty coat stroking Sheila's forehead, but Sheila didn't know him so he asked the man to leave. The man revealed that his name was Death, and he told Sheila it was time to go. Sheila couldn't prove the man wrong, so he got up and left with him.
To this day, I haven't seen Sheila again.
But I have tea with Sheila's tortoise, sometimes. Her name is Thomas. It seems the apple fell closer to the tree than Sheila would have liked to know. Hehe. He.
SubtletySitting in a bare, white room,Subtlety in Free Verse More Like This
listening to a lesson,
hearing the rules,
being told to be quiet,
taking the same notes,
"sit down, shut up, stop standing out,"
writing your name, date, period,
There are multicolored tiles on the "bare, white" room's floor,
new things to learn in every lesson,
varied inflections to every recitation,
underlying messages in every "shut up,"
lots of empty spaces around notes to fill with poems,
a number that is changed in every heading,
in different moods
with different knowledge,
and different approaches
in every class, every single day.
Try to see the artistry in everything.
Ah Ah Ah Mic TestIt's 8:34. I wake up covered in covered morning light. I don't know where I amAh Ah Ah Mic Test in Philosophical More Like This
but I feel that this should feel very familiar to me, there are bottles strewn
all about and the bed is unmade, I am sleeping on a pile of clothes on a pile
of mattress. The shutters are down, I can't see outside and I think, "this is
all very symbolic".
I think of drifting back to sleep but don't tell myself any stories.
I don't get up until 10:11. This is appropriate. The cradle's too warm, the
world's too cold, I am bored with myself and there is nothing for me here. I
wonder why I stay. The chill doesn't strike me much, even in December this
place never freezes. I walk to the bathroom, my parents' room's door is
closed. My mother works, she is not home, my father does nothing, he is always
at home. The obligatory bathroom is next door. I don't turn on the lights, the
fractured relay of mosaic glass is comforting, mesmerizing. I look in the
mirror and see dreams filter through in recollection of myself an
Mirror Mirroryour fingers roll up into cigarettesMirror Mirror in Free Verse More Like This
your reading my mind, again, dispassionate,
dispatching the voice for a warm caress
of the hand crackling under frostbite.
you have button eyes, black, like your hair, black,
like the coal streets at night rimmed starless, cityless,
sometimes you dream of being me, sometimes I dream,
and sometimes we're, neither of us, reflections.
does your heart beat in deadened silence as does my own,
does it dread the passing of the wind, fearing the news of your death,
do you hear trumpets, cymbals, drums and horses? Harbringers
and Harp, I am brought, Hung, I am harpooned, festooned upon you.
These are the words we never speak,
only stare as the light reflects me on you
and even as the shower curtain closes in
and the dark reflects you onto me.
A struggling faithI can't stand how you demandA struggling faith in Free Verse More Like This
I walk through the smoke of cigarettes
to the steeple of the church without
bringing my heart in with the soul,
broken, lonely, resenting.
You make my God my captor
and Jesus my chains, you, I'd like,
I do believe in heroes and saviors.
I believe in Jesus but you force
an answer out of me not of me.
I'd like to say my faith is boundless
that I'll call this mountain to rise
that I'll call these wings to spread
but, I'd like to tell you, I'm not in denial,
but I can't speak when you bark.
How can you see Jesus in me,
when you only see him in your life?
How can I tell you about how broken
and how much I can't tell you how broken
and that my heart is already broken?
You decided my fate to be hell in your heart,
you told me that I never met your par, diseased.
"Unclean! Unclean!" heralds the head, and heart
speaks volumes of silence. "Unclean, Unclean!"
cries the stranger from Mars, "Unclean" I am.
For my soul is weary Jesus, and they hound me.
My soul is weary,
exposAcit's likeexposAc in Free Verse More Like This
post development, predestined infatuation,
maybe a raw incarnation, an adolescent descendant
of that one guy I plan to be.
Life on a river, well, the roads we swim back across,
are waving, exhaling, this tree spoken augment
of times that used to be,
every ring to marry, and measure annually,
by levity, thinning out the hardships
like some far away black hole
ignored in the hospitable crowd of stars.
And all the spidery tendrils, of our palm fortunes
reflected on the bottoms of this DVD
maybe posted, the screen play's written
for all to read, but it's still an actor who gets to live it.
Then perhaps there is no better cajolery to receive,
than to know that I alone can be myself, that I,
alone, can rise or fall among the other icy shells;
so perhaps I am a snowflake,
whimsically played and cast by the wind
who would have me elsewhere be some
awesome display of sky or static discharge.
The Model 17, diagnosed by a stroke
of pseudo(cidal)science, gravitationally attracted
The Witch's WoodThese woods hold darkly,The Witch's Wood in Free Verse More Like This
lost and asleep, the witch's heart.
These brambles walk slowly inertial,
like honey running through her veins.
The wind chilled spare rows run,
anhydrous and crawling with
an arrow filth and rhyme
deceased upon her pedestal, misplaced,
We walk through the quicksilver sands
and enter the desert, her deserted domain,
where the labyrinth runs for miles
beneath our echoes, and slipping to
A serenaded vertigo on through,
her mind, her heart, her mirrored eyes
trapping the soul into their gaze,
and lets us fall through, lets us hang on to
these cracks. drip.
a liquid identity, bramble struck and stolen,
in the light, in the light, or lack thereof,
and we are locked, lost and asleep,
within and as the witch's heart
to a feral prayer.
To World and Word and ApathyI know it hurts you when I sayTo World and Word and Apathy in Free Verse More Like This
I'm not ever going to be okay
but your words are like stones,
stuck in my heart and growing bones,
making fissures in that stitched up
patch that holds the magical cup
of secret things
that belonged to me.
Greed will drive you to take,
even that which you create,
and I am waiting for you to kill me
while you cross examine my autonomy
and where the story ends
and will, it bends
and keeps bending,
You're parrying, tarrying lies
as you plan out your demise
and crack me open like a coconut
and let the milk fall out till it would shut
--this world is scar tissue,
and we've been avoiding one important issue,
they've been opening,
as we're emptying
FacethinI clap, for you, a thumb and finger pieceFacethin in Free Verse More Like This
to match the palm, some measure of
innocence (lost) and experience (shuffled,
bridged, lost), not knowing how to begin
or hardly knowing that I've already begun
(to shuffle my feet) and (bridge my words)
something fierce comes this way over
the both of us (still).
A broken word (stuttering) to express
A broken heart (fluttering) to express
Broken thoughts that mutter a neediness
as I pass by the mirror, (distressing), the
strange treasure map of my face, and tell-tale
landmarks holding still as the coroner traces
out a path to fool's gold; already lauded
prizes to fools (on fool's run).
Kings, Queens, Jacks,
Jokers, spare aces
and empty tins
of many suites,
poker faces (flushing slim
and chartreuse on the table
operated) to street music
that takes you ( afix ) affection
until the next terror, overwhelming.
with all disdain of time and blessing
(of life and love and liberty)
hope is a two colored wordhope is a two colored wordhope is a two colored word in Open More Like This
drenched in the starch of tomorrow
as our smiles fade into neon
in suite with the street signs
leading out of the morgue.
On morrow, life, but for now immortal,
where every angel sharply breaks,
glass, wine, knives and hamlet, oedipal
but for all tragedy revenge had wrought
we, alive, cold and barrenly mortal.
Who speaks of world, who is world?
Do I dream or am I written, dissolutioned,
bold faced and italian on God's journal,
turned over as he writes another chapter
in the history of the created, does he notice?
On the union of my body, fights a civil war,
red and black, ants fighting for a queen mother
never met, never embraced but for their birth,
were I to stop, were they to feast upon me,
were time to drink from me the hours.
and hope is two colored, twice faced, Janusary,
news and expectations, bad dreams, exultations,
someone cries for their mother, the judge waits,
wherefore in legend, stars the host, an army,
I am drowning in the hope of tomorrows.
The rain meets the antpilehow tired the rain beats furrows upon my empty headThe rain meets the antpile in Free Verse More Like This
as daylight twains between two roses highlighting
underlining my name.
and you say we're misinterpreted to be prophets
I thought I was the ladder, and you
sitting there all dressed in red and feather.
there's two, then three, and makes us poor in symmetry,
and kind in kind as the butcher awakens. Awkwardly.
it shone up in
and shone up
and shone when
the blacks grew up.
you said we lacked a symmetry,
you said we were asymetrical, undesgined and I
well I thought I was a scarecrow.
but you scared me.
we wake up the breaks in the day
to call out the mornings and all the
doleful hours of trees on the prairie.
initiates of the voiceless orders
as the voiceless one speaks and the
voiceless, they surrender
the heavier dust from the heavier slips,
rain drove furrows, and tired drove
to rest upon my head, left for dead
and left alive, how simply unclean.
you said we lacked dichotomy and
I'm just glad you t
The city gets to meThe city gets to me,The city gets to me in Free Verse More Like This
and picks me off of my
concrete holes and
heavily automated sanctuaries;
that whine beneath the weight of my
dismay, of my
Cut me and I'll bleed
yellow bellied american,
pierce me and I'll bleed
fifteen molar love
mixed with smoke trails,
replies, from: beneath a mask
to: chorus, and recourses
through my veins when
But every shape of me
is placed by every shape
of you; that sticks, with
every inhuman hand, some
make sense of divinity
and unsense of hypocritical
Resume, Razum, Resume.
BrokenYou were beautiful onceBroken in Free Verse More Like This
With bright clear eyes
Of softest blue
There was a time
Some years ago
Where I lounged about
All day with you
A playful smile
Gracing my face
At peace, dear friend
In your embrace
But the skies have darkened
Over our heads
And where laughter broke
There's sorrow instead
A void like a joke
With its punch-line unsaid
What we had is transformed to anger
Just beyond where we sit
It's listening in...
Distrust in its gaze
Malice in its heart
I think your anger
Might tear us apart
PurposePurposePurpose in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I knew it...
...Grasped it in my hand
It was cool...refreshing
I directed my thoughts
To the constant stars
But in the end,
They were always too far
I tried to write but was only
Excited by the interplay
Of words and sensation
But I yearned to sense more than write
To live more than fight
For their eloquent release
But less than a purpose
Living is a consequence
Or so it's always seemed
Is there something deeper for me?
I think fewer know the answer than I might
AbsenceYour presence is felt mostAbsence in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Not a moment passes
(Of absolutely no consequence)
Conjures thoughts of you:
Lovely and stark
Making some remark
Sets my mind at ease
Or my soul ablaze
Or pries my heart open
To accept some truth
So many rough smiles
And understanding tears
And needful words
Poured out through the years
Like the persistent lotus
Shrouding us in the
Mystery of the ages
I hardly notice
How much it all means
Until that wretch "unknowing"
Comes whispering to me
All the dark what-ifs
Spiraling through my head
All those things I dare not repeat
I long for reassurance to moderate
My sense of defeat
StillPassionless rainStill in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Gray as the streets
And unpaved fields
Where willows sleep
No thunder roars
For the encore
That might move the world
From its drowsy
The atmosphere merely breathes
Its trisyllabic masterpiece:
My head feels far too heavy
To be supported by sinew
Tenuous as that which constitutes
Sagging neck and spine
And I long to sleep
The idyllic sleep of grasses
Motionless in that mist
That saps both body and mind.
The MachineOur blood's the steamThe Machine in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
That drives the machine...
O, industrious giant
With shining gears of lead
With which to grind to dust
The unhappy dead
We bow down to you
On bended knee
And make an offering of
Offer our selves
On exquisite platters
Matter over soul
Not mind over matter
Seems our forerunners
Overlooked your need
But we treasure your lust
Strip the fresh virgin
For your perusal
To drown her refusal
Her cries drive the steam
That feeds the machine
And we know just what those
Guttural utterings mean
More fuel for the fire
That kindles the need
More for blood and destruction
And the vices they breed
FalteringMy faltering tongue seeksFaltering in Free Verse More Like This
To hold discourse with stars
Whose pale light remains reserved
For shadowy realms of isolation
Pitiful creature that I am
I sigh warmth into the cold mist
And in dream sketch hope
For exodus and return
Scorching flame and salve for burn...
Let me crawl into your skin
And heal you of your ills
With my gaping passion
That's come to feel as though
It encompassed in it all vanity
Inherent in the erring soul...
Let me not be thus tortured
In my wretched solitude
Devoid of my heart-half's missing part
Grown too weak to write much of worth
This is all I can presently muster
For your eye's treat or cause of unease
Or exhaustion of staying open
To wounded lines such as these
That try to care and fail horribly
That try not to and are cut
Off at the source of apathy
That reveal the murky ocean
Through which my mind wades
As if it still slept
...It shall do so soon
And still this sense of loss
And unfulfilled need
Bred from the eternal
Albeit troubled love I bear thee.
WindbiteBlissfully biting at my bonesWindbite in Free Verse More Like This
With breath that sings as it stings
Freezing my flesh with fresh tenacity,
The north wind howls its victory
I merely admit my defeat
With face buried
In once-warm terrycloth
Feeling that no loss
Is so keenly felt as heat.
SleepwakeMind afloat in a drab sea of graySleepwake in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
That might be the sky,
Quiet suppressor of light
Obscuring even the smallest sign of day
Which strives to blossom
Somewhere beyond my sight
In waking dreams, I drift sleepily
Into the simplest sensations
Layered with meaning and somehow-
Necessary in a way consciousness
Cannot be, excepting its role
In bringing these things to be
A tome, a sword, wise words forgotten
But still trembling vaguely in the
Sweeping corridors of my mind;
The strangeness of real sleep
Merging effortlessly with my present half-wakefulness
Longingly, I reach out my hand to find
Some hidden messenger who will reveal
The truth of these things to me-
Blinded by confusion, excited by illusion
Dreams of Spun GlassDreams of spun glassDreams of Spun Glass in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Through my subdued mind
With the ink of memory
A cerebral tattoo
Refreshed after its inspiration
Was left behind
Or faded or fled
At time's behest
When my truest self requests,
It is entirely mine
Telling a story
Through the light of a smile
Or eyes set on watching
The setting sun
Or, best of all,
An eloquent tongue...
I fear missing the speech
For when I bid one repeat,
The liquid dream will have robbed it
Of its stunning clarity
Would that the glass never stopped spinning
ElasticOne hour andElastic in Open More Like This
Of sixty seconds each
In exhausting opposition
To the speeding plane....
I feel motionless
Elastic time rebounds
Slightly painful as it grapples
With my head
I want to contemplate things
Bend them to my will
Infuse the colors with logic
Lay out the truth
And imagine if things would have
Played out quite as they did
If I was ever really in control...
Now is not the time...
although my truest suspicion
Is sweetly legitimized
By the immutability
Of this text
Unhinged Triptych Chapter 9Although she hadn't been asked to, Natalie still felt obligated to go and feed Noir the morning after they left. It wasn't the kitten's fault that her owner had more than the average amount of personal demons, after all. No pun intended. When she reached the apartment, she found the kitten sitting in the middle of the living room, looking remarkably lost without an Adon to cuddle. Without hesitation, she went forward and scooped up the pathetic-looking thing. "Don't worry, Noir, he'll be back soon..." she murmured, rocking her slightly.Unhinged Triptych Chapter 9 in Fantasy More Like This
After a few minutes of consolation, she set the kitten down and went searching for kitten chow. As she went through his cupboards, she reflected on what she'd just said. Without Adon, that odd feeling in the back of her mind was almost gone...but on the other hand, she felt extremely uneasy. If he didn't come back soon, she'd be forced to admit that he'd run into problems--and problems for him definitely mean problems for her. Besides...though
Unhinged Triptych Chapter 6Adon felt his eyebrow twitch as a cluster of girls broke out in another burst of giggles. He glanced toward the clock for what seemed like the millionth time since Kirandin had shown up. His eyes followed the second hand as it neared its goal. 'Five...four...three...two...Unhinged Triptych Chapter 6 in Fantasy More Like This
"Thank the gods...I mean, homework is to read pages fifty-three through sixty. Natalia...you stay," he said tiredly, his eyes drifting from Natalia's shocked expression to where Kirandin was fidgeting. This conversation was not going to be fun.
After all the students had filtered out of the classroom (Naomi had promised to check up on Natalie later before she could be persuaded to leave), Adon was left with two girls in the room, one looking at him expectantly and the other refusing to look at him at all. Kirandin started to make her way over to him, but he made a quick motion for her to stop. Surprisingly enough, she did. "Adon, who's the kid?" she asked, her eyes darting from Natalie to Ad
Unhinged Triptych Chapter 4Everything...everything was so red... So red that it was almost black. His wings were screaming and he could tell that a good chunk had been taken out of his torso, but somehow all that was numb to him. All he could think of was how very wrong it all seemed, how he'd never expected the situation to get this desperate...and of course all the blood. It was impossible to ignore just how much blood there was dyeing the grass, the trees...her corpse. His beloved, pure Alia, who had always been a bright, pristine golden white was now stained a deep scarlet...and was still...so still. It was unreal, in a way. He could not believe that she was dead, and that he would soon be following her...Unhinged Triptych Chapter 4 in Fantasy More Like This
Adon jerked himself awake. He realized and was faintly irked that his neck ached horribly and he was covered in sweat. He was even more irked to find that he was trembling.
Unhinged Triptych Chapter 2On that particular Monday, the prickly feeling was as strong as ever. Natalie wasn't sure why, but she could actually feel her hair standing on end. It was so bad that she'd accidentally knocked into several people at school in her daze, leaving Naomi to explain that 'She just isn't feeling well, the poor dear'. After the fifth time, Natalie had become so accustomed to the words that she was repeating them along with her friend inside her mind. That was why it was so jarring when the words changed.Unhinged Triptych Chapter 2 in Fantasy More Like This
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Natalie's just...she's just... Hey, are you new?"
Natalie blinked in surprise, and stopped her forward lurch. She turned back to see a rather nervous Naomi and a very composed, very...odd young man. He looked to be a few years older than them and (to her intense displeasure) quite a bit more beautiful. It wasn't his slightly ethereal looks that put her on edge, though. It was the
Unhinged Triptych Chapter 1Tip tap. Tippity tap. Tiptitaptaptap. Natalie's fingers drummed out a sporadic song on the brick wall she was idly leaning against. The rhythm slowed and was lost, however, when she paused to tuck a wavy strand of chestnut hair behind her ears. On the way back to the wall, her hand made a detour to rub at the familiar ache in her chest. The ache had begun so long ago that she couldn't even remember the cause. According to her parents, she had been in no accidents, had never been seriously ill. She'd just started complaining of an ache without cause when she'd been about five. Now, ten years later, it still bothered her almost constantly.Unhinged Triptych Chapter 1 in Fantasy More Like This
A brief sigh escaped the girl as she looked up and down the street for the cause of her wait. One minute passed, then five. Finally, a very breathless girl could be seen dashing down the street, her barettes barely restraining the longish dark hair threatening to fly away with the wind. "Gah! I'm sorry...how long've you been waiting, Nat?"
Unhinged Triptych Chapter 5That day Natalie was waiting outside his room. He managed to stay composed as he gave her a death glare (and believe you me, a composed death glare is a difficult accomplishment) and strode into the classroom. "Is there are reason that you're here waiting for me, Natalia?" he asked peevishly.Unhinged Triptych Chapter 5 in Fantasy More Like This
She ignored his tone and walked in behind him. "Now that I know that you're no more wicked or powerful than any other teacher, I can interrogate you," she responded chipperly, seating herself in the desk opposite his.
He dropped his bag at his desk and seated himself behind it. "Lovely. Now there's another morning person in my life..." he muttered to himself, surveying Natalie over steepled fingers. With a heavy sigh, he got to work. "What can I do to help you with this morning?" he asked, his voice calm and showing no trace of the exhaustion he felt.
Natalie frowned at him. "You seem less smooth this mo
Unhinged Triptych Chapter 3Oh. The door was closed. Well...she hadn't expected that... Somehow she'd expected the door to be open. That way she'd just have to poke her head in, say her piece, hear his, then leave. Now, though... Now she had to take initiative. She had to knock, she had to wait, she had to disappear into that room away from prying eyes and the normal world, or that was how it seemed.Unhinged Triptych Chapter 3 in Fantasy More Like This
Natalie found herself fiddling with the violet hem on her shirt. A few minutes later, she was tying her shoes. A few minutes after that, she was reviewing her vocabulary for English in her head. But open the door? Oh no, that would come after much more procrastination.
After a good fifteen minutes, she finally turned to go, her nerves failing her. She was halfway down the hall when she heard the door open. This time the prickling scuttled up her arms, she felt su
StarsHe looked over at the girl standing silently next to him, and marvelled at what he saw. She was gazing up at the stars rapturously, the starlight making her dark skin glow. Or maybe that was just the calm happiness that seemed to radiate out from her. Sometime during the trek, her thick, black hair had escaped from whatever elaborate confines she'd designed for it this time, and was now falling about her shoulders. Somehow the more natural look fit the moment, and he smiled at thought, knowing that she would never agree. They only reason she had never hacked her hair short like Alia's was because the two of them had begged her a number of times not to. Just then, she noticed his scrutiny and turned her deep, bark-colored eyes from the sky above down to his face questioningly. He just changed his half-amused smile to a warmer one and glanced up at the stars. "Is this what you wanted to show me?" he aStars in Fantasy More Like This
Unhinged Triptych Chapter 8"Operation: Steal Adon's alarm clock. Kukuku..." Kirandin chuckled to herself as she crept into Adon's bedroom. She allowed herself to look at her brother's sleeping form for only a few moments (sights that beautiful are hard to resist) before continuing her mission. Unconsciously she held her breath as she slowly unplugged the mechanism and darted out of the room with it. She oh-so-quietly shut his door before chucking the battered thing in the trash.Unhinged Triptych Chapter 8 in Fantasy More Like This
Kirandin had lunch on the table waiting when Adon finally stumbled out of his room.
"Yes, Adon dearest?"
"What time is it?"
"Um...2:30, I believe."
"You do realize that school lets out at 3:00, right?"
Kirandin grinned in the face of her brother's wrath. "Don't worry! It's all good! I called up your boss--he's a little off, ain't he?--and told him that you were sick. He seemed very put out, but I told him to shove it and
Unhinged Triptych Chapter 7Natalie glanced up at the clock hanging a few feet above her teacher's head for the third time in five minutes. Each second seemed to her twice as long, each minute a century. Soon...so soon...Unhinged Triptych Chapter 7 in Fantasy More Like This
"And...yes, that was the bell. That will be all, boys and girls."
And hallelujah, she was free! She swept her books into her bag and was (unsurprisingly) the first one out of the classroom. She hadn't gone three feet, though, before she was roughly pulled into an awkward, one-armed embrace.
"Yee-haw! Let's get goin', dearie!" Kirandin cheered as she steered Natalie down the hallway. "Adon's a-waitin' a little ways off and he hates it when people're late!"
Natalie blinked at the sudden change in direction and the horrible, garish hoot Kirandin was passing off as speech at the moment. "Um...okay? I take it you're excited?" she asked nervously, wondering if it was really safe to be carted off b