inspiration suckles in cancer and labworkhave you been writing lately?inspiration suckles in cancer and labwork in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
have you written about the effervescence
spitting up at the surface when you
reach a cadence and still run out of
places to keep your shrouded letters,
all inked and stamped - ready
to arrive everywhere with no return
have you written about a death in the family
and how it plucked each of your villi
till it knotted into a lit-metaphoric
metastasized at your throat, so
apparent it made you choke
on each correct pronunciation
till you lied your diction ways
into another midnight?
have you written about bleeding out
and stitching your wounds
only to see if you could do the same
for another aching Faiz? tell me, have you written
without sweating over what-word-to-use,
have you written about the salts
precipitated to insolubility and sprinkled
into the headache you've been feeding
with your restlessn
swallowI had beat the sprinkled sugar,swallow in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
clouding my breakfast's better judgement this morning
off its crunched, French toast wings, took a
sip from a mug that was yearning for more
coffee and I broke both their hearts because
mine was feeling lonely
so I ran to the bus stop to find
my old company waiting, snow-clad
like my coat but still hollow
like the rusty copper sky above them. top
of the morning to you too
I broke a few more on my way
to the mayday parade at work
only to find that tonight my
words were going to threaten me till
I bled some more,
I hadn't read these before but you
could shut up and stay in
the back of my head till
the rest of me is biologically ready
to have you back
in an incomplete circulatory
system; please stop making your
monumental alabaster feel
so much like home, stop
being home for me right now.
yes, breathe a little slower, I can feel
my breakfast return to my mouth but it's
better than having your words at my
cracked winter-dry lips.
don't ask me what you can do
whitewashedmother refuses to drink the honeywhitewashed in Free Verse More Like This
she paints our rooms with, for
curtaining the timid female quarters of home
is just as frightening
as a monsoon-poor September.
the kind she weaves
with her own words seem far
sweeter than the jars they make
in the farm down
the tree-cut boulevard.
she hides stories in her collars, spilling
only when her honey jars are raised
her red-hot honesty
and our yellow, foolish,
the forlorn scent of industry
seeps into the cheap marble floor
and cracked bathroom tiles,
till it reaches father's nose where it
vaporizes in fear of being shunned.
father will paint the ceiling blue
because aloof girls make broken homes, sewn seam
by seam to a delusional perfection.
we are perfect, bent at the knees and spine
to the fetus we compare to
but the shoulders we always are.
we dare not tremble;
his reign, unquestionable,
someone should ask almost about being wholeI should be building my future from lego brickssomeone should ask almost about being whole in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
but all I have are little bits of you sneaking up on me with the subtlety
that was only your gift. you were never the silent type but if there was ever
a wildfire in someone's head, we all knew it was you.
this isn't poetry, this is you.
you only read well, your clumsi-
-ness so contagious - no this isn't
honesty, this is poet suburbia, you never
mess with that - your storms always
quiet enough to sneak past every
single one of us.
do you still blame us for remembering you?
your voice was deeper than the Mariana trench -
no it's not in my fucking skin, how many times
has that line worked for you? - and towards
the terminal of that long distance phone call
it had thinned into the frail breathing of a departure,
so shocking but nowhere near
he said I don't need to be ready, but fucking hell,
I was always halfway there, wasn't I?
for once, I was glad you didn't call death a character
from the Book Thief. so yes, you were a
~our eyes were fogged with farewells marking territories down our cheeks.~ in Free Verse More Like This
the ache felt like smoke at the edge of my throat and i was afraid
to say it loud before you said the ocean kissed your taste buds. we just knew.
maps tore apart and our paper walls built with just enough faith to last three decades broke.
it's been too long since we've been hurt with the blue of the sky and you are not the ache in my bones –
you're the crusts between my fingers when i tried to let the sun make me feel less alone.
you’re the clicking of knuckles i feel inside
and the fishhooks fumbling to pull out some pride
from arching, collapsing
(deep into your blue arms
veins overclocked from the last time
you couldn’t feel anything)
withdrawn – a film folds over, sticking
to your thumb and thenar like silken sheets
- directions dictated from throat to feet
- waxed for attraction, abdominal distention
and directions dragging my uniform
up from the floor
five ways to kill a mansomewhere before stressing awayfive ways to kill a man in Free Verse More Like This
my baby fat, i read that five ways
to kill a man included leaving
him somewhere in the clutches
of the twentieth century without
a home to nurse
his tachycardia back
but they never mentioned
that grief doesn't always catalyze
annihilation in the hands
of your own desolate storms.
somewhere before whispering away
my horrible taste in music, i heard
that it's always too soon for the end
to be near because hope
is a once-in-a-lifetime dream
you have on the poker-night of a blue moon,
oscillating between the acrimony
of the high tide and the blues
of the low
but it never said anything
about a sunrise meaning forever;
it never did, it never did.
somewhere before writing away the rawness
of a shallow cut in my bilayers, i memorized
'if' written by the withered hands of
kipling. i memorized the four-stanza'ed
sentence and hoped i'd never have to whisper
it to the broken ears of a departed
but that's where you lost
your headstart to the metro
reasons to fall in love with meroll a list of statistics aboutreasons to fall in love with me in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
how much time has run out, to me
and I will write each second to have
ever passed, a love note.
tick, I will miss you,
tock, you are important.
tick, you were the only thing standing--
tock, between us and now it's over.
tock, you are still important.
tell me that the in-love are never
forgetful and I will answer with a corridor
of now switched-off phone numbers
that have kept me static and dizzy. it isn't
easy to lose track but I'll pull
back every knot out of our string
theory bond to sleep tonight;
you will too.
read every book I have given myself
to in holy matrimony and I will find
every word, page, chapter you consist
of, enough reason
to read you again.
I will find ways
to love you again.
but sing all seven notes to me, say
no more exist and I will make
my piezo-electric crystals tease
and tremble ultrasound till it is heard
because everything should be heard, even
when I feel small
and hide t
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***.
Someday I'd Like to Be A PirateSomeday I'd Like to Be A Pirate in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Someday I'd Like to Be A Pirate:
Someday I'd like t' be a pirate and sail across the seven seas.
I always thought it might be nice t' feel the ocean breeze.
I've always dreamt of findin' treasure, stashed away in a hidden box,
And then after I drop the anchor I'd burst open the locks!
Dubloons I'd find and diamonds t' keep, trinkets worth a life;
Or maybe I'd find a sacred sword or a really ancient knife!
But as I grew, I was soon t' learn, that dreams do not come true.
How many times have I seen a man be strangled till he's blue?
How many days have I watched them stumble, cursin' ill their fate.
When none would reach a helping hand, their heart would fill with hate.
I grew t' question th' ways of Kings who whipped the backs o' men,
More labour earned with blood and sweat while the preachers say 'Amen!'
Donations are given t' temples rich, while the poor are in the street;
So many souls are quickly trampled beneath their ugly feet....
Where first I believe the world was fair, no
KidKid:Kid in Free Verse More Like This
I enter the classroom and look around
I sit at my desk and stare at the floor
Nobody here ever tries to talk to me
and I can't really talk to them
I usually wait for class to begin
But ten minutes can feel like an eternity
I wish I could pop in my earphones
But they cut them in half yesterday...
Sometimes I hear them talking about me
But the words are always the same
They say it so much that I start to believe;
That I'm really what they say I am
Ugly, fat, stupid, beast;
These are the lightest words that they use
I wonder why they have to do it to me
But I don't know what it's like to be normal
Lunchtime is usually not so bad
I try to keep to myself wherever I can
It didn't work so well today though
Because they noticed me sitting in the corner
The biggest one in the group decides to approach me
His words sound like he's speaking in tongues
My heart seizes up and I'm too scared to react
So he ends up pouring milk over my head
FEARFEAR:FEAR in Free Verse More Like This
Frantically he scrambles away from the dark
Eager to be free of his waking nightmare
Acting only upon the instinct within him;
Reminded constantly that he is prey
For some time he hides in the pervasive shadows
Earnestly praying that he will not be discovered
A single sound is all it takes to jar him;
Running from a creature that he can barely see
From head to toe it is certainly monstrous
Enshrouded in an aura of absolute repugnance
As the acid drips from its cruel jaws,
Rapidly dissolving the ground below
Fearful, he cowers, beneath boxes and cardboard,
Escaping away into a tiny corner of his mind
Alone with only his anxiety for company
Resting for what might be his very last
From birth, Ever-present, Always Remembered
such is the nature of FEAR
Writing poetry again Doctor Cecil? That's good!
You'll need a hobby to be working in an environment like this
-Chen Yuan Wen, 9th October 2012
You Lift Me UpYou Lift Me Up:You Lift Me Up in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
When first I fell from the grace of the light
Tumbling endlessly through an uncaring sky
With wings torn from me, blotched and bloodied;
It was time for me to die...
But a bed of flowers, with the scent of lillies;
Caressing my heart with its soothing fragrance
Left me stronger and healed my wounds;
In the dark it was my radiance
It brought me back from the brink of despair
And made me forget that I would never fly
Instead I am content with these broken wings
If I may sleep where you still lie...
Here upon the ground, having faced my judgement
I am calm and collected without burden to bear
Someday I wish to return to my home
And when I do; may I take you there?
For it is a wonderous place, of miracles and mercy
Though gripped by those who are blinded by greed
I weep for them, as anyone should
For they have followed the devil's creed
It is sad to know, that they have been corrupted
Sadder still, to be denied a home
Yet the warmth of the hearts that choose to surro
The Never-ending MasqueThe Never-ending Masque:The Never-ending Masque in Free Verse More Like This
A troupe of dancers, with colourful costumes
Ascends the stage with jaunty smiles
Whilst the eldest member, in a Jester's mask
Narrates the tale in style:
As they begin their dance, these lovely dancers
The skies turn cold and grey...
Arms reach down from the rumbling heavens
And they take our stage away!
Yet the harlequins laugh
And simply dance on the grass
For the show must go on
Until time has passed
Harken brothers, a wicked wind blows!
It stirs from the belly of the unkind beast
It rips our props away from us;
And hopes the dance will cease...
But the Harlequins laugh and continue the show
They mime to mimic their props and tools
Using naught but the love that they have in their hearts
They create a fable of ghosts and ghouls
My brothers, no, it cannot be!
The narrator grasps at his throat in anguish
For the Jester's voice has been taken away
And now the show can finally be vanquished...
But the Harlequins laugh and put on a sm
Where Angels PlayWhere Angels Play:Where Angels Play in Free Verse More Like This
A lonely spark appears before me tonight
amongst the struggles deep inside of me...
Should I give in, will I breathe in?
How much more can I be forced to take
before my soul breaks?
Shards crashing into me
letting me know I am alive
I am barely breathing...
The moon lights my pathway
deep in dark, where we will fade
I've walked past the archway
Where angels will play...
The warmest touch, upon my skin
Wings that glow with sacred light, from deep within
They have come to take me back, to where I've been
Gone away into the winds, my voice forever lingering
Do I alone escape this and find my peace
without concern for what is left behind
Even if I could close my eyes in endless rest
The thought of you keeps me breathing...
The angel that leads me, deep in dark, where I seem to fade;
The lonely spark that keeps me, is the warmth of your heart...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 30th September 2012
Waking NightmaresWaking Nightmares:Waking Nightmares in Free Verse More Like This
It begins in the same way, every single night
Fire spreading from an altar in the darkness
As all living beings are slowly consumed,
The coruscating flames appear wet with blood
The scene then changes to a flooded hallway
Live wires dangling just above the water,
Like venomous serpents slithering in the darkness
A single pounce would end my life
Eventually the hallway ends with a door,
One that reminds me of forgotten yore
And my thoughts shall be in rhyme at this point
As though lips and tongue are eternally joint
What maddened schemes have they in mind?
It is not a question, I may ask at this time.
Quickly I am brought before a bone-wrought throne
Kneeling as my flesh is carved 'Atone'
My thoughts return to me and they are normal now
I somehow retain awareness of where I am.
I see before me, a creature rising;
From the shadows it grins and bares its fangs
'I am the end, which you so desperately seek,
And the mo
Counting All the VoicesCounting All The Voices:Counting All the Voices in Free Verse More Like This
How many voices choose to speak; a debate within my head.
As I lie awake, counting cracks, on the wall above my bed.
I seem to think of random colours and things you've never seen.
But I don't like to hear the ugly voices, some are rather mean!
Though I suppose we are a loving family and thus I must accept
That when it comes to stashing bodies, we are most adept...
Best of luck detective, you have three days to find her (^_^)/
-Chen Yuan Wen, 8th February 2013
Chasing Shadows of You...Chasing Shadows of You...Chasing Shadows of You... in Free Verse More Like This
No matter the years that pass me by,
It seems I am forever trapped.
For when it comes to deceiving myself,
I'm afraid I'm rather apt.
In the end the truth which I sought to avoid, is now knocking at my door...
A rabid rat that chews at me; one I can't ignore.
And though I might have grown this body, from the lonely years I've seen.
I'm afraid I can only chase the shadow, of my dearest Angeline.
- Chen Yuan Wen, 14th January 2012
The Assumption PoemThe Assumption Poem:The Assumption Poem in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
There once was a pirate whose name was Big Brock
He was a young lad with a really big-
Gun and he tried to hold up this young lass!
He bent her right over and swiped her sweet-
Chain that she kept in her pocket out front
He took it and ran while he called her a-
Fool for keeping something nice on her dress
He ran to a bar and squeezed one young maid's-
Hand when he asked her to go out on a date
Before the big night he would go master-
Swordsmanship skills and a punch that was slick
Maybe later she would go suck on his-
Plant that was filled with some rum by the door
He smiled when she arrived for she looked like a-
Pretty young lass who was ready for love
If you thought this was dirty you can go **** yourself!
"The last word was 'love' :3"
-Chen Yuan Wen, 14th April 2012
goneyou are missing from me.gone in Free Verse More Like This
your being, like the ever-
present sun, is gone,
leaving my vitals to
This Is Your LoveYou're the only oneThis Is Your Love in Free Verse More Like This
who keeps my head above the darkest waves
of the ocean welled up inside me.
When everything's passing,
you're the only one who stays.
You're my evening story.
You're my morning smile
when I'm stuck in a headless holiday.
Your heart is my Never Never Land.
Anything is possible.
I bask in your touch, like sunbathing.
Your scent has seeped into my skin.
It begs, "Forget me not. Forget me never."
You're the only one who helps me sway with the wind.
You're my only one, my soul survivor.
Deep inside when I'm hoping, missing yesterday,
you're the soft light that shows me the way.
You wake me up, my sweet dream.
Telling me, urging me to be happy.
"Take a breath."
I'm a moonchild, you're my ray of sun.
You sing a lullaby to save me.
You're the only one to hold me up
when the rain cloud threatens
to drown me.
Soul Burn: Rain (Conversations with Characters) Thick, grey clouds in the sky acted like a blanket. They smothered the sun, except for the occasional tears of lightning. You could feel the earth shake, as if it were grumbling at having to endure such a tongue-lashing. Amanda watched the storm from under the shelter of her tent, her bare, pink toes sticking out in the rain. It was an unusually cold and harsh autumn.Soul Burn: Rain (Conversations with Characters) in Settings More Like This
"What is it about storms that has you so transfixed?"
She turned her head, her gaze on the ground, to find another pair of feet sinking into the frost crisped grass and mud.
"You're looking at that sky as if it holds some secret the rest of us can't see."
Amanda slid herself towards the center of her tent, and Garrett bent down to join her. She watched the way he folded in on himself like paper along the creases. He looked at her steadily with his mismatched eyes.
"I would take the time to explain it to you," she smiled. "How it's a childhood thing; ask you not to judge me for it. But you alr
Mirror, MirrorI awoke from a daze,Mirror, Mirror in Free Verse More Like This
And what did I see?
A girl in the glass,
Who looked strangely like me.
We may have been twins,
Almost but not quite.
I thought my eyes were the sky,
But hers were of night.
I thought my face was full,
But there were hollows in her cheeks.
Wasn't I flushed and rosy?
She might not have eaten in weeks.
My hair was soft and smooth,
Hers a forest, thick and wild.
My teeth shone, her lips were cemented,
It seemed she never smiled.
I thought I had curves,
She was just skin and bones.
Wasn't I healthy and strong?
She could use a good home.
I pondered and questioned, "Who could you be?"
She replied, "I am what's true.
You've created a lie,
And I'm the real you."
beautiful kisses me wonderfullyi lay in the crook of your elbowbeautiful kisses me wonderfully in Free Verse More Like This
where your missing rib
accepts the extra curve of mine.
beautiful rests lovingly upon your lips,
you're so beautiful.
and the beat of your heart
echos back against mine
as i press the words silent,
seemingly engraven into me.
so i shall always be beautiful
with your lips against mine.
Drive (Updated)Looking back in the rear view mirror, I realize how much I loathe the tail lights coating your long, lean outline in red. I’m driving away from you, reluctantly; the gravel crunching under my tires makes them groan their agreement. I search the mirror for you, just one more time. I need one more look at you, seeing you stretch up the porch steps of the place I’d like to call home.Drive (Updated) in Free Verse More Like This
The solitary street lights cheer separate sections of the city road. I let my gaze lower slowly to check the speedometer. That small sliver of orange stays almost horizontal with the dash board. I stubbornly refuse to let that dial rise any higher. The higher it goes, the farther I am from your voice and your warmth. But I’m just delaying the inevitable. I’m obligated to go back to a house just a skeleton of a home.
Down the dirt back road to my house, my emotions are dipping and changing with every bounce over a pot hole. The slim quarter of the moon hangs behind me from an invisible
G'Morning Valentine And just so you know, the worst part of my morning is opening your stupid, squeaking door. But I open it anyway, assuring a loud, annoying good morning to everyone in the house but you. Even as I unzip my coat and throw my bag on the floor, you continue sleeping. So I take a moment to look at you, really look at you. I have to smile at the way you curl up on your side, your hair haloed on your pillow, your lips slightly parted, and your chest slowly rising and falling. I think it’s seeing you like this that makes my heart swell in the cheesiest way.G'Morning Valentine in Short Stories More Like This
It’s the way that as I climb under the covers, you wake up and wrap you
FrozenA solitary pillarFrozen in Free Verse More Like This
In the eye of the storm
No cover, no protection
No way to stay warm
This frozen hurricane bears down
And every side collapses in
Snow flakes and shards of ice
Embed into my skin
The steam of my breath fades
And my eyes seal shut
Disappearing deep in the snow
As the stars light up
A solitary hand
Encased in silvery ice
Reaches up for the moon
Waiting for the end of this night
NaPoWriMo Day 1: I Am a Poeti want to watch dainty words slipNaPoWriMo Day 1: I Am a Poet in Free Verse More Like This
off my tongue,
and go dance their leaden selves
but i am no molten silver-tongue.
words formed in my brain tumble
down only to cling to my lips,
waiting for me to spit them out.
but i speak words nonetheless.
Party: Rewritten (Continued) A meaty, sweaty hand latched onto my shoulder. A loud, slurred voice came with it.Party: Rewritten (Continued) in Settings More Like This
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, sweetcheeks. Where are you goin'?"
Great. Some jerk-ish drunk dude. Just what I wanted to deal with. I spun around to find a face to put with the voice. Greasy brown hair, squinty eyes, and that permanently stupid expression; Derk, the class a-hole from school. I shrugged my shoulder and let his hand slide away. He was smiling at me in a way that suggested he was aiming for smooth and charming. The smell of illegal beer on his breath didn't help any.
I put on the snottiest tone I could muster, hoping it would warn him away. "Hello, Derk. What can I do for you?"
He winked. "Plenty of things. You're pretty cute you know, for being an emo bitch." He really tried to emphasize the word bitch, and spit gathered at the edge of his mouth.
A Very Short StoryA Very Short Story in Short Stories More Like This
Everyone was two inches tall.
Poets should never make ghost children.I whisper cheap metaphorsPoets should never make ghost children. in Free Verse More Like This
into your needy ears until, like
funeral flowers, they rest upon
the atlas of your mind. You
with your napkin love letters
and cloudy storm eyes
are the only one to ever
make my scaled spine quiver.
But, my veins ache
from consuming too much ink.
I am gagging on black blood
as it spills from your fingertips
to rest upon my lips.
You asked me once if I could read
the words carved into my limbs
like prophecies of you and I
we were written in the universe
of freckles dotting my thighs.
I tried to plot constellations
along this neurotic cadaver skin
and only managed to contradict you.
He isn't you.He isn't wishful paper cranes,He isn't you. in Free Verse More Like This
or Paris dreams during cold
Autumn nights. He isn't You.
But, he's trying so hard to
make me forget [ you you you ]
like pressed flowers hidden
between the bindings of
unfinished books, placed
at the top of dusty shelves.
His eyes are supernovas,
dead and lonely.
They don't sparkle like
your blue ocean irises.
But He loves me.
I can feel it through
shy smiles and the way
he touches me with
gentle artist fingers.
[ He makes
me want to write
p o e t r y. ]
Muse:She corrodes star shapes intoMuse: in Free Verse More Like This
the hearts of sleeping poets,
I am trying to be honest,but I write so fucking floweryI am trying to be honest, in Free Verse More Like This
it makes me sick,
rose scented stars & love.
Her: helpless as a lamb,
I want raw, aching
bone against bone
exploring the exposed, naked
poetry of her universe-
( warm, celestial hands
forging sandcastle ribs. )
Southern earth beneath her feet,
wanderlust burned like Apollo's touch
into her spinal cord, please awaken
the empty space between her skin
she knows her paper cuts by name.Rose bloodshe knows her paper cuts by name. in Free Verse More Like This
on her tongue
reminds her of yesterday's.
A heart's hoarded secrets,
love me pretties, &
scarlet letter dreams.
do these boys know
of the bitter winter
like a blizzard
in her veins?
The sharp edges
or the crisscross
of origami limbs?
as deep &
as the ocean;
Poetry,you’re aPoetry, in Free Verse More Like This
that moans when I go.
You’re either a
are you cheaper
than the women
in the empty spaces
of my life-
or the secrets
between my thighs?
I am Fifty Shades
Why should I feed you?
Do you know
what to do
with my body
when you are merely
ink stained fingers
soaked in passing
& the fevers
within burning stars?
I didn’t think so.
TigressShe is the kind of girl who smothers herself in astronomy,Tigress in Free Verse More Like This
New Age philosophies and coffee shop poetry.
All fire and dragon scaled-
She hides her tiger stripes behind bruises and ink stains,
living her life by way of verse-
throwing Hemingway around like insults.
Writing her letters to the moon,
she hides her heart underneath her own floorboards,
folding blank paper birds just to set them free at 3AM.
But, it's the lipstick stained collars,
the rose thorned fingers,
and the dead stars in her chest cavity
that tell her- even a tigress can bleed.
August Lover,I want to wrap myself in your air,August Lover, in Free Verse More Like This
hold your secrets between my
ribcage-embrace & just
No wander about it, just lust.You were a mid-morning train wreck,No wander about it, just lust. in Free Verse More Like This
the embodiment of poetry.
& my clavicles whispered too many nothings
about your summer storm hands,
folding like paper cranes
to make wishes upon themselves.
wishes are for the weak-
do something about this quaking heart
& freezing fingers.
I think I found God then,
I'm talking myself in circles,I screamed,I'm talking myself in circles, in Free Verse More Like This
"There is nothing
wrong with me, not a damn
I wanted to believe
the big dipper on my arm
meant something more
than sun marks & kisses.
But, how can I trust words
that slip through my teeth
as easy as breathing
when this star
has only ever learned
how to f
FallEndless plungesFall in Free Verse More Like This
Through bottomless death
The permanent flight
To endless oblivion
Nothing to stop
That rapid descent
Gone in a flash
That single moment of exhilaration
For a second
It's just like flying
Then just like Icarus
The end is already there
Faster than you ever imagined
All good dreams must end.All good dreams must end. in Free Verse More Like This
Don't fret dear,
the dream has to end
as all good dreams must do.
But don't you cry,
and don't be sad,
for all things must end.
Just have faith.
Have faith for the future.
So while this dream is over,
there are sure to be more
not too far away in the future.
There is sure to be
greater things in the future.
Let this dream end,
and release its hold on you
because while it is good,
another is absolutely on the way.
City of ParisThere's smoke over the city of Paris.City of Paris in Free Verse More Like This
People cry and run,
As the fire and smoke rise higher.
There are flames in the city of Paris.
Children scream for their mothers,
and mothers yell for their children.
There's bloodshed in the city of Paris.
Screams are silenced as gunshots are heard
blood stains the black streets red.
There's gunfire in the city of Paris.
Slaughter and maiming
like nothing man has ever seen.
There's destruction in the city of Paris.
Through smoke and flames,
and bloodshed and gunfire,
there's death in the city of Paris.
Stand aloneA girl stands,Stand alone in Free Verse More Like This
Alone and weak
As insults rain down
Across her rosy cheeks
Staining once pure skin
Is a knife to her heart.
Just kill yourself
No one would care
Silently she moves
Their taunting words
Haunting her every move
Where are you going?
Oh wait it doesn't matter
No one would love a bitch like you.
When she gets home,
Her mother doesn't ask
How she is
She goes to her room,
Cries more than she ever has before
And wishes for her life to end
As she falls asleep
She prays for some escape
From her personal hell.
Then she awakens the next day
To begin it all over again
Who would ever love a girl like her?
Wake up loveHush now,Wake up love in Free Verse More Like This
I'm sorry the dream must end.
It's time to wake up
and face the world.
Reality is harsh,
the people are cold,
that's how it is
and you must wake up.
For you have been asleep long enough.
Time to wake love,
and be with your people
they wait for you
and have never given up.
You can't let them down.
The alarm's going off,
and reality is waiting.
You are only human
and cannot do much
but everyone is important
and life is waiting just for you.
Can you hear their cries?
And the bellows of pain?
You can stop them
but only if you wake up.
It's time to wake up love,
and face the world.
They cry for your return
and you can't let them down.
Why I cryI like to cry myself to sleep at night.Why I cry in Free Verse More Like This
I cry for my cat who was run over.
I cry for my father who left me.
I cry for the friends I have lost.
And I cry for the bullies who push me in the halls.
I cry for me, myself, and I.
I cry for the body that I don't have.
And I cry because I'm not happy.
I cry for my broken family.
I cry for lost love.
And I cry for the unwanted.
I cry for the people death has taken from me.
Every night my pillow soaks,
gathering the tears that I shed.
By morning they are gone
and no one knows I cried myself to sleep.
A true heroA true hero in Free Verse More Like This
don't back down.
You can win
if you only try.
Sword in one hand,
shield in another,
he stands over his charge
ready to die.
He was the person
that you told everything to.
The one you went crying to.
The one who never ran out of hugs.
The one who soaked up your tears.
The one who you carried around everywhere.
The one who always slept by your side.
He's your teddy bear.
He guards over you at night,
because while you might not believe,
the monsters are still there.
They come at night
when you don't expect it
to take what they want.
you don't run to him anymore
your teddy bear remembers.
He remembers the endless love.
He remembers everything.
Every night he stands
sword in one hand,
shield in another,
ready to fight.
All for the person
who loves him the most.
TimeTime in Free Verse More Like This
There is nothing more devastating
Than losing a loved one
Knowing that you will never
Hear their voice again
Or feel their touch, or see them smile
It's heart breaking
Time is a powerful thing
One that is forever
Time takes everything
And makes it it's own
They say that time
Heals all wounds
Time only created more scars
As the ones that it caused before
Begin to heal
To lose a loved one
Is a tragedy all in its own
But don't be sad
You will see them again
Because while time takes everything it can
Will take you too.
Time takes everything
And eventually it even takes you.
DawnIn those fickle hours of the morningDawn in Free Verse More Like This
right before the run has even risen,
and before the world truly begins to wake up
that is when the magic happens.
Each new dawn brings new life
the brand new start of a new day.
Life is such a fickle thing
that can end in an instant.
Yet in those early hours of the morning
when a new life had yet to begin
we see the true rise of people
as they begin what they believe is just a new day.
For in those early hours of the morning
we see the new chance to become and create
the life that has gone through each and every morning.
So while many sleep
through the early morning dawn
they miss the sleeping life begin to awake
and the new chance at life to have its day.
interstate 81.there's a metal star that is wasting away on a hill overlooking interstate 81. it blends in with the surrounding area; you can't really even see it unless you know it's there.interstate 81. in Free Verse More Like This
and no one does.
i like to think that it is a signboard from god, and i make tiny little prayers on it. my religion is in curling wires and burned out light bulbs, and my lord is the same colour as the sky and the treetops. honestly, i believe that rusting metal has as much a chance as anything for inspiring faith.
there's a deer lying broken on the side of the road. it's sprawled in a shallow ditch with its four legs splayed awkwardly, hooves plowing tiny furrows in the dirt. the unnatural curve of its neck is so graceful and elegant that i want to tell someone but have nothing worth saying.
there's a boy who sometimes wears glasses and sometimes doesn't. he lets me talk about lunar eclipses and rest my weary head against his chest and keeps my possessions safe when i'm too drunk to care. he tells me, "you make
neverlandi'm giving myself ten minutes to grow up,neverland in Free Verse More Like This
and with every minute that passes i am remembering
balloons and party hats and streamers
and the second star to the right,
straight on 'til morning.
every year i write myself a poem for my birthday,
but this year i think i'll write a poem about
peter pan and he'll die in the end and everyone
will be sad. i'll be the saddest though,
because there comes a point in your life
when you realize that you're not peter pan,
or wendy, or even a lost boy.
(how sad, i think, to be lost but not a lost boy.
it doesn't matter though, because neverland isn't
real and now look, i'm another year older, and what
have i even done with my life?)
today i'm twenty-three and peter pan is dead.
my ten minutes have passed and i still haven't
grown up. people around me forget how to talk
to mermaids, and no one claps because no one
believes in fairies, or flying, or themselves.
today every birthday candle looks like a bone
and i still have so many wishes left to make.
dahlia girl.i used to let you backhand me acrossdahlia girl. in Free Verse More Like This
the face because crying turned you on.
your palm stung and burned my cheeks
bright red, but it was strangely beautiful.
you called me your little dahlia, your little
candleflame, and kissed my jaw where
your fingers left treadmarks.
"love means making sacrifices."
i said nothing, just wiped away a few
premature tears and traced the fireworks
blooming on my face.
you used to fall asleep in the grass with
me, and we'd wake up with petals stuck
in our eyebrows and grass stains on our
lips. our lazy kisses tasted like rain.
"love means throwing handfuls of grass at
each other. love means 3:00 AM bubble
baths. love means wishing on shark teeth
and broken seashells and stoplights."
"okay, sweetie," you say absentmindely,
brushing errant twigs from my hair.
"what comes on tv tonight?
one year later you asked me what love
meant again, but by then it was much
"is it holding hands? remembering to buy
cereal? letting me to
thirteen ways of looking at--one crow sorrowthirteen ways of looking at-- in Free Verse More Like This
two crows joy
three crows a wedding
four crows a boy
five crows silver
six crows gold
seven crows a secret
that has never been told.
i suppose my secret is that i never told him that he is a blackbird.
he is all sleep-crooked eyelashes, dark and glossy, and his wingspan
is over seven feet long which seems big enough to pull down the sky.
i could tell him about birds as cliche symbols but his mouth is forceful,
his body is warm and needy and there is no room for literature in bed.
my hands flutter needlessly against his shoulders and i hope
i am a bird of paradise but in truth i am no bird at all.
i guess my secret could also be that i want to marry him
and bind his jagged elbows tight and teach him about earthly things
like poetry and not making me cry. he will fuck up, i know this.
he has before. when it happens again i will sob about useless symbolism
and nursery rhymes and maybe he will remind me "two crows joy."
this is supposed to be where i write about loving
Fourth of September.1.Fourth of September. in Free Verse More Like This
I am writing a poem about my birthday and candles and alcohol and dead people.
And how I have a really good imagination and every time I walk by that stop sign I see the car slamming into her and spreading her across the asphalt and every time the lights flicker I imagine his brain swelling against the confines of his skull and every time I walk in the front door I am reminded that my baby brother is dead.
I am writing a poem about balloons and dead people.
It is the fourth of September and I am full of longing. I want bare knees and raw elbows, untied shoes, green grass that bites into the tender palms of my hands. I want summer to roll into autumn without numbers. I want to pick wild strawberries. I want birdsong sunsets, lowercase letters.
I want Cooper's pond at night, where there are no atomic bombs or doctor's charts and you can slip beneath its cold surface and live forever.
Tonight I am supposed to celebrate growing old by getting drunk and pretending tha
no one warned the little girlssometimes you will fall in love with the handsno one warned the little girls in Free Verse More Like This
or with the jawline, not with the penis.
watch out for boys whose eyes
are rougher than their voices.
little girls love hard and fast, and it is a lie
to say that words will never hurt you.
kissing in the rain is not romantic.
it's cold and wet, and your nipples
will be like pebbles digging into his skin.
he'll wipe water from your lashes,
and, if he is polite, he'll pretend
not to notice his thumb blackened by mascara.
later as he sleeps you will watch his lips,
unable to feel anything except your hair
curled damply against your skin.
when you were young, sex was strange
and scary and unreasonable.
when you grow older, that doesn't change at all.
please, do not use the flavored condoms.
getting married tastes like a wedding
invitation, heavy cardstock and eggplant ink.
if you cut your tongue and bleed
all over the calligraphy, it's bad luck.
when you speak your vows and look in his eyes,
you will still feel the blood
in your mouth, warm a
glittering, struggling.i.glittering, struggling. in Free Verse More Like This
"i am going to make every person
around me as happy as i can,"
i bravely declare.
"you should get a job," you offer,
and i draw a heart on a whiskey
bottle and say that making people
happy is my new job.
"you should get a paying job,"
you clarify, and i fill the whiskey
bottle with glitter and kiss you
until it doesn't matter anymore.
you don't need money if you're
i tell you that i'm going to leave
because even if it hurts now, it will
eventually make you happy, and
you refuse to speak to me for
the rest of the night.
and here i thought i had
all of the answers.
you joke about going to med school
just so you can keep me alive forever.
i joke about doing some nice deeds
so people will write kind things about
me in my obituary.
neither of us think the other
is particularly funny.
you roll over in bed and whisper,
"did you mean what you said, kel?
about making people happy?"
i pretend to be asleep so that
i don't have to tell you that the only
people that i want to
being in love.it's like when you were five, when your pet rabbit diedbeing in love. in Free Verse More Like This
and you learned that nothing good lasts.
it's like the time you dropped him off at his house to watch tv
before you drove yourself to the emergency room, sobbing.
it's like the first time you saw your kindergarten teacher cry.
it's like ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes. ashes.
it's like when he went too far, and he said, "is this okay?"
and you said, "no," but it didn't matter.
it's like when he said, "but i want you."
it's like the number seven, or rubies.
it's like when you almost drowned in the pool in north carolina
and when you looked up through the broken surface you thought
you saw god's face in the clouds.
it's like when he told you, "it's okay, it's going to be okay," and it wasn't.
it's like when you found out monsters weren't real
but every night you still woke up screaming.
you can't make them love you.He is beautiful, new, unexplored. He has wanted to kiss her ever since they met one week ago and fell prey to helpless chemistry.you can't make them love you. in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Dont, she says, moving her hands in a subconscious yes pattern along his arm as he rubs his cheek against hers. You dont even know my favourite colour. The wind cuts through her thin jacket, and his chest is so warm.
Red, he guesses, improbably correct. His ears are cold.
And how many dogs do I have?
Two, he says, and she laughs wildly at his luck as he nuzzles her neck.
Im trying to save you, she tells him, pushing fruitlessly against his broad shoulders. So you dont wa
DiwaliDiwali in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
festival of light
a time for peace, hope and joy