Post MortemI am a walking, talking universe of dead poets
who tattoo their stanzas into my flesh
with ghostly, typewriter fingers.
I live and breathe their worldly disasters
like a nicotine addiction I've never had.
Drowning in their scribbles
I kiss their shoreline romances,
envy their Annabel Lee's,
& carry their hearts in my heart.
I am 7am coffee on Sunday mornings:
a half drunk, hungover limerick
waiting to happen.
I am jealousy:
nothing more than weak words,
& a tongue-tied cliche-
but death becomes me.
Her Musethese words are not poetryHer Muse in Free Verse More Like This
swimming liquid fire through ashes
of dead phoenix veins.
no, they are rough and callused
with over use, their own faithless artists
spewing black tar from their lungs
in the hopes to one day breathe again.
nothing moves her.
she would rather scribble her heart out
on physical manifestations of her own reality-
on skin and bones she worships like a temple.
"Write of me," he says, "right here."-
planting sun-stricken kisses
along the hollow of her burning throat.
"I want to be where your heart sleeps."
RepossessionYour words tore into my abdomen like vultures feeding onRepossession in Free Verse More Like This
the raw emotion their filthy wings stirred up from the dust.
My ribs cracked from the blow.
But, I think sometimes
of how these were the ribs
that should have chased you away from me,
quietly wondering how you managed to
slither past this cage of bone and flesh
to engrave your fingerprints into my marrow.
You were sweat & spice & scars-
a thunderstorm of black and blue sex
jarring and devouring my insides,
shaped a faithless religion
through the cracks & broken shards
of my hollowed out womb.
(I want my insides back.)
A Gods DebtSutured together by artists,A Gods Debt in Free Verse More Like This
hallowed out, & spit back up,
( you are afraid. )
Hooks longing for her ribcage embrace;
god-hands that can't seem to keep to themselves
grapple the gargoyle exterior of her deflowered frame.
( spread your legs. )
Red-inked and trembling,
prosetry masked as screams
knots into her anatomy.
Stephanie -Collab(I wrote us in free verse over every inchStephanie -Collab in Free Verse More Like This
of your tattered surface ).
you were the beatific grin
of a kindergartener high off oxygen,
mouth stretched wide as the entrance to hell,
black tongue bleeding virtuous sin like ichor.
(You taught me praying was for the weak
as I fell for your gypsum nails,
white teeth scrabbling over my chalkboard frame).
scribbled flesh tells no love story
but three layers of skin
worn thin along the length of our feverish bones.
(Garden flowers tucked away worms and dirt,
my ribs hoarded misspellings of my mother's name).
dipping your origami limbs into my ink,
you lost yourself within the dark tangles
of my labyrinth roo
fly.this is hard for the world around us to grasp:fly. in Free Verse More Like This
these wildfires raging in our retinas
& the sins we wear like demonic similes
on our tongues- they are not enough.
& i am so fucking sorry of saying i'm sorry.
but, tell me,
what is a young poet(ess) to do
with veins made of kite strings?
FeverI like pretending I mean something to the ghostsFever in Free Verse More Like This
who wreak havoc on my bones-
impaling these masochistic butterfly wings
on railroad spikes
between heartbeats and bedsheets,
I got a heart in New Orleans,
palms engraving names like
Juliet, Alexandria, & Christine
on the seats of greyhound buses.
& I'm offering up 102 degrees of skin to a godless moon
as I breathe in her night scent.
astrological.i. On some nights,astrological. in Free Verse More Like This
street lights guide
this lonely heart
to her lonely bed.
ii. In this universe of twilight skin
& mismatched bones,
I wonder just how many poems sleep
beneath the inkwell of her eyes.
iii. My body is a house of stars,
and her palms are black holes
sucking ( me ) into their vortex of
iv. She says, "Please—my moon,
please—give these bones a reason
& I am whispering lovelies
into the sanctuary of her heartbeats.
v. "Goddess temple,
sunset eyes, &
my windowpane love-
Let us eat the stars
Sometimes, you enjoyed being blind.Over 1,000 letters have found their waySometimes, you enjoyed being blind. in Free Verse More Like This
to the pulsating heart of my wastebasket.
You carried them away saying, "I'll use these
to fill the empty spaces of my universe."
You proceeded to tape them to your eyelids,
wear them like Augusts leaves along your limbs.
"I will be your voice and I will sing your words to the trees."
Slender spider fingers prancing across my misspelled scrawl.
N o v ai.N o v a in Free Verse More Like This
This distance between us
is devouring my lungs.
I'm left here gasping,
trying to suture back together
all the broken nights-
the cigarette burns in my bedsheets.
I'm tracing maps on my limbs,
and I'm painting black holes on my palms,
pressing them into letters
left on my nightstand
untouched and unread.
I keep telling myself
none of this is about you.
But I'm reaching for empty galaxies
as I try to remember what it felt like
to be one of a binary star.
Light-years away, and I'm here-
just another nova on your ceiling,
searching this vast universe for you.
BloodI've got a filthy mouth,Blood in Free Verse More Like This
& a house of stars
thriving in my throat.
& I still have yet to tame
this grounded constellation
I call my temple. -Slithering
tongue hissing too many
"fuck you's" against my teeth.
I fear I will write myself hollow-
or until my bones are corroded away
& I am nothing-
an insignificant nebula
orbiting the wrong atmosphere.
But, my veins bleed sweet ichor,
& words are only words, Mother.
scar-crossed(my fingers are colder than the solemn bluescar-crossed in Free Verse More Like This
buried in her eyes. so much dead beauty,
like an ocean without waves).
she is fading and i cling to her,
and in this tiny little moment
we barely even exist.
we should celebratei.we should celebrate in Free Verse More Like This
i tried to think of pain as a flower,
first it blossoms
it wilts away.
but i won't let myself disappear
along with it,
give you that.
(it's not the agony that makes
me scream, it's the flavor).
and you whispered softly
"i'll rip your heart out and replace it
with a song,
it's christmas soon, and
we should celebrate".
you've always used my scars
as a calendar,
as a way to remind yourself
"today is tuesday
and i still exist".
(it's morning now because
i can see
through my eyelids
a bright summer day,
the flowers are
if you meet a wolfwe swore an oathif you meet a wolf in Free Verse More Like This
not to acknowledge it,
and i should have asked for more just to be certain,
but i will never ask for your blood
just to mix it with mine.
she read between the lines of each word and crafted her own story,
just as i had crafted mine. neither was
as simple as the honest truth.
if you meet a wolf, pretend it is not there.
pick your blueberries and do not
think about the wolf.
it will not harm you.
do not, under any circumstances, look the wolf
in the eye.
(i stood in line at the florist's and realized the lilies i chose had withered.)
she returned home from a funeral, and it
did not feel like death to see
so many flowers,
lowered into what they dub heaven.
(she thanked the man who dug the hole, and had to stop herself
from asking if she could join him for the next one.
i stood silently beside her,
there are no cars in the streetsi seek distance and i find itthere are no cars in the streets in Free Verse More Like This
in the cold air
as i walk
with no direction, gasoline
lingering in the streets like bad perfume.
she swears i smell like death
when i come back inside,
for a minute i believe her.
i exhale oily shadows and when i catch my reflection
in the mirror i have no face, screaming
i try to scrape off the emptiness
with broken fingernails.
and when she tells me to calm down
her lips aren't moving.
i could be nothingsome days you look at me as if i ami could be nothing in Free Verse More Like This
glances studying my face like a road map.
but mostly, i find your eyes stuck in the static
of the pavement, or lost
in the clouds
gathering before lightning.
and we never promise anything, just share the air like strangers
when we don't know what to say.
(it always ends with a silence more desolate
than broken trust.)
you said this is the calm before the storm
but what if
it never slows down
enough for me to notice
that there are days when we can exist
without doubting every second. you have a tendency to whisper
too quietly, leaving room for me to imagine
callousand this is where i fall apart, bleedingcallous in Free Verse More Like This
but not as we know it.
you emptied me of sunsets, of the sweet scent
worn by summer air,
of the silence found in longing, the wish
for something far away.
you scraped off a layer of my skin,
there were dancers and drifters, bound by
rhythm but not by time.
(i was a child, wandering, sipping the atmosphere
like tap water.)
you demanded truth in layers of secret pathways,
but lost yourself in tangled ribbons,
choking us both like frightened snakes.
what keeps us aliveshe hollowed out the fear in you, that once rested in your rib-cagewhat keeps us alive in Free Verse More Like This
like a safe haven, somewhere to lose yourself
when falling. (she stole it with less than a whisper).
you stood cold and resilient, the void tugging at your sleeves
with fierce determination.
you stood empty and brave.
she never gave you a destination, wordlessly she carved your route
out of denied tears, an unfinished map with no coastlines.
you left and the abyss followed your trail like a bloodhound,
promised to devour you whole.
you left to find the sea.
snapshotsshe said her tears were just a rough sketchsnapshots in Free Verse More Like This
of her insignificance, "but you
wouldn't want the details."
(i can see them reflected in her fragile smile, how her eyes
wander from place to place, unsettled).
she is a forgotten board game from
1984, trivia covered in dust.
the broken light bulb in your living room, screaming
for a replacement.
demoni.demon in Free Verse More Like This
i came to him in a dream last night, but he woke
up too soon.
as a muted silhouette, i remained in his mind,
a small piece
was all i needed.
(he thought he saw a familiar face
at the train station, but realized he was alone,
a ghost commuting at 4 am.
he walked back home disgraced, and though
there were no witnesses
he could feel
eyes piercing through his throat
i came to him in a dream last night and he woke up
with bruised knuckles,
blood stuck under his fingernails.
he bit them off to taste
the same sweetness that lingers
on his war medals.
(it didn't belong to him.)
i leave him to make the loneliness fester
until it burns a hole in him
that only i can fill.
red seafaceless, they pull you apart limb by limb,red sea in Free Verse More Like This
white gloves, methodical
not you, screaming until you've pushed the clouds
out of the sky, the sun burns
your skin off, ashes,
you can feel everything, but it still isn't over.
are we there yet? unmasked, they emerge
from frozen cities,
white gloves, plastic,
it's getting cold sun-child,
numbness, pale skies
your bones like icicles.
they snap your spine like a twig
but it's only a nightmare.
recover, repeat. let them cut out your eyes,
scream until your vocal chords
are ripped apart.
we are there now, marionettes,
Autumn AutopsyAs lovers,Autumn Autopsy in Free Verse More Like This
we were reckless;
in a field of mines.
We traded kisses
and carefree caresses
and blackened skin.
at the cost
of darker afternoons,
of the dying season;
We didn't ask,
we never questioned
of our expenditures.
I shed my skin
in the Autumn of youth,
the viscera and
bared the bone --
a scarecrow of worms
and raw meat,
amongst the stalks
of reddened corn.
to dusty artifacts,
laden with memories
of decaying potency;
rising from the cooling wick
will never be
as sweet as
when the flame
BonesLoveBones in Free Verse More Like This
is less about flowers
than it is
about Monday mornings,
when all the world
dreads the commute,
to share a space with you.
of serenades and starlight,
I often find myself
inside of mundane fantasies,
of your shower wet hair,
so snugly together
in dashboard light
like lips and hips
in the blue glow
satellite stereo screens,
long to take you
So many men
seek the perfection
that have no basis
want to dive head first
tangled up in every complication
that is us.
My love --
you are the everything
flaws and highlights,
and all of your bad,
of a lifetime spent longing
which only you possess,
am not -ever-
going to give up on
Undressing PoetryShe clothes herself in poetry,Undressing Poetry in Free Verse More Like This
seals her skin within the verse.
Each line becomes another garment
that conceals her fixed form's curvature,
but peels away when read.
Last night I dissected a stanza,
clamped it tight between my teeth
and tugged it down her legs.
Her body breathes warm and sweet,
speckled red like a summer strawberry field.
I sucked the juice from her lines and
spit the punctuation like seeds.
My lips mouthed the shape of her words
as my skin grew more sticky with
every splash of imagery dripping down my chin.
I peeled apart her soft pages
with sticky, pink fingertips that left them
clinging to my skin.
A single flawless line remained
between the cloak of poetry, her and me,
so we spoke the words in unison,
revealing everything and setting her verse free.
ListenHow am I supposed to sleepListen in Free Verse More Like This
with all of these dreams
keeping me awake...
So many words
falling through my mind like raindrops,
so many thoughts
transforming into the shape of you,
into the shape of us.
It's an electric shock,
a high voltage surge that rushes
through my chest
and rides my ribs like rails,
getting the engine of my heart
until the light bursts
through my eyes
and the tunnel always leads
I like to imagine Sunday afternoons,
you know that time of day
when the light turns gold
and everything looks like it's in a movie,
the breeze is gentle
and there is music murmuring in the distance.
I like to imagine you,
tucking it back behind your ear,
soft skin painted in the birth of evening.
It's that space
where the sun refuses to set,
but the stars can't hold out any longer
and we get this glorious sky
where everything is visible,
from the constellations of the twilight
to the connect the dot patterns,
like a field of poppies,
ocean lungsyou weigh something like gravityocean lungs in Free Verse More Like This
in my tired expanse. you are
(my once splendid mountain)
my love is the ocean
that has worn you down.
with my monstrous tongue,
i pulled you in.
as you fall,
sweeping peacefully into the depths
and filling each crevice,
i am learning to inhale shores.
some would say i'm suffocating
and bring me buckets of air (only to have it
escape my slippery grip).
no, the tides need something heavy
to make of her
she reminds me of myselfI'm sorry, Alice, the looking glass lies.she reminds me of myself in Free Verse More Like This
Flowers don't sing
and hares don't keep time.
Your world of wonder
is all make believe -
Why else would your reflection
giggle and wink?
You aren't a child any longer, my dear.
Have a matchstick for your dreams
and a hammer for that mirror.
Our hands may be calloused
as we coddle our pasts
but delusions are enemies
and wistful muses pass.
I will wait for you, darling,
I will write for you, lass.
I will capture life's beauty
and contain it in glass.
Though, the singing that lingers
is the voice of my own.
The fragrant flowers are dying
even while their seed is sown.
polyester tastes like silencea blend of fiberspolyester tastes like silence in Free Verse More Like This
twists around my insides
and juts from my lips.
this is how they silenced me.
they wrapped my bones in gauze
the squeaky, tell-all bits of me;
i am a doll.
i am a doll
made of tin-can, rust-ridden joints
and wide, murky-water eyes.
my skin is the color of negligence
from sun-scars and
my ocean hair smells of salt and weeds.
i am the once comforting thing
you throw in the wash that gets lumpy
and disfigured and
you slowly lose comfort
in my misshapen seams
(but i will always hold your secrets
beneath the muffled mess of me).
summer homei've rearranged the rooms of my chestsummer home in Free Verse More Like This
to make room for you.
i won't say it didn't hurt
to make myself your Adam;
until you found a comfortable perch.
there, beneath my unguarded breast,
you construct your nest of
every lovely thing you've come to love
(while the rest of me flaps wildly
like moth wings against the cold walls
of my exposed heart).
i should've known you'd leave
when winter froze me.
don't apologize [for the ache].
you kept the beautiful bits of me
(while they died).
because we're too afraid to fly in daylightjust when i thought i was home,because we're too afraid to fly in daylight in Free Verse More Like This
the welcome mat
turned to tacks beneath my feet.
i apologized for the blood
that crept into the cracks and stained your porch.
this isn't the redwood i had in mind;
but i think it's kind of beautiful,
in the same way
a moth can't find its way to the stars
from inside the garage so it
flicks its maddened wings to make a
ting, ting, ting
on a dying lightbulb.
"abyssus abyssum invocat,"
i whisper to the winged-dreamer
as she makes her way across my cheek.
i know she hears it as she
eases past my softly, parted lips.
ex glande quercus,
her wings thump morse code
against the rawness of my throat
and i swallow to quiet her pain.
hush, now shush. be still, my dear;
trees do not talk or bleed.
you've given your wings to grow with me
and we will reach the heavens.
we will be greater than the oaks
as our forest of hair plants us among the stars;
then, we will be home.
hitched to the sky
with the veins of your wings
and stuck with the red of
cagedother lovers sawcaged in Free Verse More Like This
that i was a danger to myself
(i've always thought of it
as more of a challenge to trust).
they took their prison arms
to hold me,
to keep me from myself
(to keep me from hurting them).
some pushed my suicidal heart
from its shelf
thinking it was what i truly wanted
(to be free).
they watched, helpless,
unknowing of my thoughts,
as i stood on the ledge
with my calloused toes dancing over
and wishing on every feather
the breeze brushed
from my crooked wings.
but they had been clipped.
and how could i say,
"they should have known" -
who falls in love with a bird?
you fashioned a cage out of your chest
and set your heart aside
(to make room for me,
your wounded bird).
you forged a single key
and placed it carefully beside me
(afraid i'd spook easy
with those jerky eyes
rapt with you).
i hear your heart
beat lullabies from the closet
(and i only shut my door
to dance in private
because birds are hideous dancers)
and you always ask why
i'm so afraid to sing atop
ripei was born in the darkripe in Free Verse More Like This
and they tried to keep me away from the light;
apple-red spilled through the windows,
pooled on the floor beneath her ankles
and around my gaping mouth
as i became acquainted with stale air
i'd chosen a better place
a better time).
he would say he was tired
and she would say her baby girl was beautiful
(or so i was told
between her bouts of blubbering
while she was imprisoned).
i've come to believe souls are collected
while we are young
(i am a cavity, my spirit
plucked, under a harvest moon).
caustic and cautioustonight-caustic and cautious in Free Verse More Like This
even she is jealous
of our passion
ripping apart the
earth with her
attempting to thieve
our warmth with her
she hollows old bones
like a drill
with a surgeon's
tarry the night
tarry the day
is beyond the
i don't tell you enough -fair-haired childi don't tell you enough - in Free Verse More Like This
with a hesitant touch,
how you've grown.
motherless daughter with
eyes as alive as spring
they could forget what they've seen),
i love you.
the cars you crash into
and the scars that you carry
never keep you from sky-castles
that are far beyond your reach.
you, who vanquishes her head-foes
with the cadence of her rocking
and the rhythm of an ever-anxious heart,
are wiser than you take credit for;
because even though your heart remembers
how lovers become calloused and impatient
with your flighty soul -
you will always return to the heavens.
you will always carve your path
out of the darkest forests.
even with your beaten and clipped wings,
you choose to fly;
keep on, faithful-dreamer.
you're sure to find your dawn.
and the wind in your ear whispers my namehaving not yet touched, i miss your skin;and the wind in your ear whispers my name in Free Verse More Like This
having never held you, i miss your warmth.
and it's as if-
pieces of myself have gone and committed a massacre in the winds
and floated all the way to georgia just to be with you;
except, the only killing that's happened is what's left inside me
and i won't be one with rebel leavings of myself again.
the flecks in my eyes are evidence of the parts that absconded
with fragments of my heart just to see you.
once in a while, they transmit messages to my brain to let me know they've found you
just as if they mean to say, "hello, we don't miss you, we've found our way home
without you," and my heart will skip a beat in agreement as it sings through my veins
"we've reached paradise. we'll see you soon."
once we've touched i'll never be the same
your magnet fingers will retrieve what's left of me
and we will be one.
red leaves and Robert Frost.When I was young, my virginity was sacred. Entire religions pray over it and my father bought a gun so long as it meant protecting it.red leaves and Robert Frost. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We throw away half of our refrigerator each week meanwhile, 24,000 people die of starvation every day.
Hardest part is, sometimes wasting things can't be helped.
At the bus stop, before I could drive, boys would ask for my phone number while I tugged up the neck of my shirt. Asked me how old I was while I crossed my legs under my skirt.
I told them I had a boyfriend even when it wasn't true, because they'll always respect another man more than my disinterest.
Hearing "I love you" for the first time is like getting hit by a train and only feeling the angel as they pull you up to Heaven.
People who are manic can jump off roofs or sell their house to buyers who don't exist.
For me, it was fucking six guys in four days and spending $150 in three.
That wasn't good enough, though, so instead of help all I got was a smiley-face sticker and long, quiet c
eight things about growing up.eighteight things about growing up. in Emotional More Like This
I told my brother I was going to be a fairy when I grew up. Or a bird, or sprite something with wings so I could touch the clouds.
I learned that fairies weren't real when I was six, after I tried to jump off a parking structure to see if I could fly.
That day I also broke my leg in three places and saw an angel's face in the clouds. (And don't tell anybody, but sometimes I spend all day looking for him.)
My neighbors back in Denver had a son who was a schizophrenic. After he went off his meds for the third time, he painted the windows red and told his wife she had to abort their baby because it wasn't human.
A year later, I heard that he was arrested after pointing a hunting rifle on his family. It was loaded, but he didn't pull the trigger because his mother said she trusted him.
I guess love is kind of like that, too.
Seattle didn't come until I was fifteen, in October.
My family and I took a boat ride on Friday. We listened to the captain
short-term memory.and you'll never forget:short-term memory. in Emotional More Like This
When you realized that everybody dies alone.
When you didn't take your eyeliner off one night, so in the morning
your eyes would look as hollow as you felt.
When you spent a year blacking out the sad endings in your books.
(When you wished that life could also work like that.)
When you learnt that "We need a break" means "I am going to break your heart."
When you fell in love with the stars, and the way he says "us."
When he told you, "More than just a long time."
The first time you hung up to the sound of your father laughing.
When you walked home from a party in January, and couldn't remember
if you were still breathing.
When you begged him to let you be sad, and he smiled and said, "No."
When you saw the irony of drawing trees on paper – and how alive you've felt
after being sure you were dead.
tocophobia.the world of pregnancy and childbirthtocophobia. in Free Verse More Like This
has been boiled down to the white,
neurologically healthy babies
in pink and blue knit caps.
“that one,” says the tearful father.
“she’s beautiful,” says the nurse
while the mother rests.
but why is it
that the default image of motherhood
is a white middle-class couple with a picket fence
and a golden retriever?
let’s postpone that cruise to the caribbean
and make a baby.”
what about the prostitutes
who get pregnant?
what about the girls in africa
who carry their rapist’s babies?
what about the babies left on the firehouse steps?
what about the welfare mothers
because they can’t pay the hospital fees?
who have heroin tracks on their arms
(like stitches that can’t hold them together)
where the patient bracelet is snapped on?
what about the 500,000 american children
waiting to get adopted?
what about miscarriages and women
who can never have kids?
we preach for the
zero.5. I think I'm afraid of sex.zero. in Emotional More Like This
It's terrifying that two people can fit together perfectly, without even really liking each other at all.
4. I'm afraid of the day I start replacing myself with somebody else in all of our pictures; of the day I'll see my reflection and wish I didn't have to.
3. I'm afraid of doctors, and medicine.
The first time I took lithium, I couldn't hold it down. So I locked the bathroom door and flushed the entire bottle.
The second time, I couldn't walk more than ten steps without falling.
Honestly, I'm just wondering why they use poison to purify me.
2. I'm afraid of the ocean.
I'm afraid of looking down one day, and not seeing the edges. Of there being nothing there.
I'm afraid of falling and having nothing to catch me.
There's already nobody. The ground is really all I have.
1. I'm afraid of breaking things.
Like, once, I broke my dad's trust in me.
Once I broke somebody's heart.
Once I broke my kindergarten teacher's favorite
things i want you to know.0.things i want you to know. in Free Verse More Like This
there is a picture in my living room
of my parents in their twenties, in sunhats,
there is a picture of my father holding me
when i was two years old.
there is a picture of my parents
on their wedding day.
there is a picture of me when i was
ten, eleven, twelve.
i’m seventeen now and
i won’t let my mother
take any of the pictures
i need to believe that, at one point,
this house was more than just
i was born on the second-to-last day
i weighed seven pounds, two ounces,
and it was ninety-nine degrees out.
four years before that, in 1992,
the officers who beat rodney king
within an inch of his life
five years before that, in 1991,
a cyclone in Bangladesh killed
138,000 people and made 10 million
ten years before that, in 1986,
a fire in a Los Angeles library
damaged more than 400,000
and on that day, april 29, 1996, i was born
and i’d like to pretend
that it was a go
and i have tried to make it right.i.and i have tried to make it right. in Free Verse More Like This
let me tell you a story
using six words.
their names become parts of statistics.
let me tell you a story
using six words.
“suicide is the easy way out.”
let me tell you a story
using six words
that will never be told.
pain is not a fucking
do you still pray,
knowing there will be no answer?
see, i cannot speak for those
who have no voice to give
but, sincerely, these are the six words
i respond with:
i wish i could save you.
we live our lives being told that
there is always a safety net -
that there are people designed to protect us.
i’m going to use six words because,
the saddest stories
take the fewest words to tell.
for them, there was never anyone.
blades can cut wrists but
here are six words:
blades can cut stories short, too.
i have approximately 250,000 words
to choose from
to try and describe to you what suicide is
but i don’t
boys that want you, boys that love you.1.boys that want you, boys that love you. in Free Verse More Like This
there are four kinds of love.
the first is honest.
the first is messy.
it’s smeared makeup.
it’s tears over a martini.
it’s people dancing alone.
it’s off-key singing, at the top
of your lungs.
it’s unmade beds.
it’s the hickey on your neck.
it’s the gasp he gave
when he first saw you,
how he missed your lips
when he tried to kiss you.
after he made you cry.
the second kind is what you feel
for the boy lying next to you.
there’s cigarettes in the ashtray,
panties on the floor,
a lump in your throat,
and he does not love you back.
the third kind is when you'll meet
and that little moment will stretch
into something huge and permanent,
into a month/six months/a year
of a million glances that you'd thought
it’s when you'll say nothing
and neither will he
because there will be no need
because he'll very nearly smile
and you'll know.
painkiller.you show me a bottle of advil. you say to me, “if i swallow all these pain pills at once, do you think i’ll finally stop hurting?”painkiller. in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
“you shouldn’t joke about that,” i say.
in retrospect, i should have been grateful.
it was the only joke you’d ever told where i wasn’t the punchline.
i’d like to write your name in a bathroom stall. i’d like to come back every day, checking for tears in sharpie’d letters. for a “he’s such a scumbag.” for a “you’re not alone.”
i guess i want to think that you’re a criminal mastermind. i want to think that you’re a serial heartbreaker. i want to think out there, somewhere, is somebody else like me, who you’ve hurt.
(i know you’re none of those things. i know that you’re just a boy – and, really.
that's the saddest part of all.)
i taught you how to stargaze, and how to uncross your arms and let people in
queen of nothing.what I've learned:queen of nothing. in Emotional More Like This
I still remember singing in my room when I was six, and having my mother come down the hall and slam the door so hard that the windows shook.
Her nails hurt when she scraped the tears off my face. "It doesn't matter what you want," she'd always tell me.
Like, when that drunk driver swerved and hit her car I didn't want her to leave me, and it didn't matter.
Once on vacation I bought a pair of fuzzy leather heels for two hundred dollars, and when I wore them to dinner, I found out that
1. "Suede" is a fancy word for "fuzzy leather."
And 2. Good things don't last: That night my cousin told me that she thought 135 pounds was a little too big for five foot eight. So I tore my tights up to the thigh and threw those new suede heels in the garbage.
It felt good later, to know that they couldn't hate me more than I hate myself.
My six-word story from ninth grade reads, "If I don't laugh, I'll cry."
When I read that treating people like trash to gets them to nee
why we pity angelsto him;why we pity angels in Free Verse More Like This
you are afraid of phonecalls. you
are afraid of your own voice, and
opening your ribcage to let
your heart come live on your sleeve.
you are afraid of living without caffeine
or alcohol, whatever the day calls for;
you are afraid of being real
without laughing afterwards, becoming
everything you worked so hard to get
away from, acknowledging all
that you still are. know this:
I am afraid of loud noises.
I am afraid of honesty and drowning,
people I don’t know and words
I won’t say. I am afraid
of growing old and living alone and
you not accepting me. I am afraid
of myself. In that, we are the same.
I have the compulsion to grab you
and cup you to me like you are some
half-alive bird, like that sound
as the lazy sun paints you a portrait is
your hummingbird heart and not my own
shallow breaths. in the beginning,
you were my peace of mind. you traced
the contours of my being with a scalpel
and held me up, a shadow puppet,
as the darkest, blackest figures I gav
catch a falling star, put it in your pocketthere's something about those little brokencatch a falling star, put it in your pocket in Free Verse More Like This
dreamer girls with misproportionate promises
and lingering whispers,
who walk like angels, lost, and trying
to find a way back home;
whose hearts bleed abnormally loud
and resonant- those girls with
shadows like ghosts [dead and haunting],
that make them a flavor
to taint your tongue.
if you listen close, you can hear the
unraveling words that once knit the hollow space
between their bones,
you can hear their shallow sighs like
sun sets for a final time.
you can hear their ticking time bomb lungs
and you can touch their secrets, because they
wear them on their skin. not like wounds,
more like sun kisses or wispy tattoos
ingrained into who they are; you won't know
what they mean until you connect the dots
and find answers in their questioning stares.
they'd like to remain something unknown, because
they've identified the world as a disease- vile and
insidious, with the capability of sinking
underneath your flesh and changing who you are.
Poets Always Lieambrosial fabrications arePoets Always Lie in Free Verse More Like This
easier to swallow down when
incandescence is a blessing bestowed
only upon those with silky tongues.
deceptions are beautiful
in the right words
because they are salvation, like a
rapture, they save the sickly,
self-indulgent souls from those
tragedies they used to write on the insides
of childhood notebooks about who
they could never be [themselves]
they rescue them from tremulous
corners and closets, hideaways
where they've grown too akin to
the demons they nurse; and drag
them into a land beautiful enough
to wear light as a second skin
(where lies are never discussed
but always shared)
are so much more comforting
than the absoluteness of reality
because self-resentment is as
natural as a heartbeat to those
who were born breathing and
abhorring and denying all from one
steady gasp of what the existent world
had to offer to them
back then their eyes opened, and
their fingers fumbled, born, they realized
the world wasn't as pretty as promi
unfilterediunfiltered in Free Verse More Like This
i’d tell you I hated you
if you had a voice or a face,
or any sense of tangibility aside
from the spider fingers you use
to crawl through my brain
you are not beautiful, like
all the other poets protest. you
are the red in my eye, like
a pen bled; the ragged to
my fingernails, the hitch of my breath
when it catches in my throat.
before i go, i’ll write a million letters (a million
pennies for my thoughts, bitter, embedded
under my tongue) and send them to people
i’ve never met, telling them how my eyes were blue
when i was little but now are the same gray
i’m choking on, how i am maddie and how that’s short
for a name i was never graceful enough for, how
i tell myself stories of lives i’ll never live so i
can go to sleep
because when i’m really gone, that’s all that’ll be left
(it’s funny what people
try to justify with words)
you never loved me,
you selfish thing, i wonder why
i wasted so many nights relivin
things I learned at 11 am while I was half-asleepithings I learned at 11 am while I was half-asleep in Free Verse More Like This
I’m spending most of my time
not crying, and I’m sorry,
but I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone
as much as aspirin, or lullabies,
or the cheap wine sold for two dollars a bottle,
or overly-apologetic letters bending over backwards
to make a point of themselves, or the pink petals
blooming on my wrists like flesh and blood miracles,
or the songs named after women
things may not change,
but you will have to.
I am most alone
surrounded by people
and the buzzing in my head of words
that should have lost their meaning
back when I discovered
they never meant anything
Dedications are only relevant
to people who appreciate shitty poetry,
or you. Insanity is writing the same thing
over and over and expecting it not
to sound clichéd.
and as much as anyone will swear otherwise,
I am a statistic. A number, an example,
a case study in the manipulation of
narcissism and moving on
ColorblindI gave away my name todayColorblind in Free Verse More Like This
and it might be a metaphor, but I think
we only remember the quietest suicides
the walls are thin enough to listen
as the angels try to scratch free;
bloodied fingernails and God says everyone
screws up, sometimes
I'm waiting for a silent night.
I only ever believed in solid ground
and depressions' tides, and sometimes,
those little wounds I nursed deep
within my vocal chords (because
my voice is dying, too)
I can see the beautiful people, now
overdosing on their own opiums of
self-acquittal and dissolution
they ran out of ways to ask for help.
I'm fragile, but my glass ribs
aren't holding much
and I'm through trying to find something
different, because it's scary to know
what exactly's the same
yesterday I was someone else and
tomorrow I'm further into inevitabilities of
who I promised I'd never be--
I'm waiting for a happy ending,
but if you love something
you let it go.
everything I'm becomingtwo weeks until the end of the world,everything I'm becoming in Free Verse More Like This
and i’m busy stockpiling all my regrets,
writing letters to flaws i don’t care
to fix, and trying to learn to draw
infinity. it’s time for two truths and a lie:
1. i was drunk for an hour on
good vibes and loneliness and
that quote “from the moment we
are born we begin to die”
2. and god, Bianca, you still show up
in my dreams; glaze-eyed and
more vocal than you ever were
when you were half-alive
1. (how close i came to arctic happiness
when you froze in my mind,
snowflake breath lingering like
the soundtrack of my breakdown)
now, she tells me she is sick
of the clothes stretched tight like
a second skin, and the gaping silences
between her ribs, and the singsong
unimportance glazing over her
hollywood-hangover eyes. she blossoms
like an earthquake, finally
growing into the goosebumps
and hollow bones her father
gave her-- i want to cure the world,
use a freeze ray to halt time
and kiss every empty wound;
on becoming alivethank god for sleeping pillson becoming alive in Free Verse More Like This
and the man who gave me a bag
to quiet my mind.
thank god for boys with open hands
and curious minds and naïve hearts
who make me young because
god, you birthed me old
you birthed me old,
so I could be the one to
measure the livelihood of stars
while the others made
their childhood wishes
thank god I have a mind
that runs a million miles faster
than I ever could, because
I believe my heart is an hourglass
of honey and grime, and
I’m slowly running out of
time, and I fear
these days are numbered.
thank god for people
who write the words bleeding in my heart
without knowing I exist, thank god
for beauty and my understanding
that I only exist in relation to it
and in appreciation of what
I can’t become.
thank god for my rebirth
because I spent all those
eye-opening years of my life
sleeping behind the wheel, thank god
someone was there to wake
me up. (thank god that I can
weep for happiness and depression
in the same day,
admittance is defeatthey called you beautifuladmittance is defeat in Free Verse More Like This
with porcelain eyes about to crack
and cigarette skin crumbling
away, a knotted spine and
you were never gracious.
you're slipping underneath, this
virulent smog masks a paper sky that
never allowed a dream and
you're afraid because it's soaking in
your pores again, unattainable and unoriginal;
the meaning of life never meant enough-
you were never hopeful.
there's a getaway map on the underside
of your pillow, and a lifetime of secrets
on the underside of your bones
you're a walking travesty:
your chest ticks, dull
your wrist beats, dying
time is keeping you but
you were never patient.
you lie large enough to make us believe you
don't entertain nightmares, but what if
no one could hear you scream?
remarkable, it seems
caged birds really know how
to sing out
(you were always beautiful)
Growing Upit seems that by now I’ve been diagnosedGrowing Up in Free Verse More Like This
with a mild case of weightlessness, mindless
drifting past empty homes and the emptier people
that purchased them. I remember conversations
with you about existentialism
and the almost intricate fabric of my mind and
everything in between, and you-- the way you
paused before making a point as
the words defined themselves in your head:
I remember the day I told you I was God.
Creator of all things unimportant, trapped
in the body of a girl with nothing left to give, you
it must be a beautiful place
inside your head, with a world
that revolves around hope and expectations
the way it was supposed to; all
storybook-perfect like the
wars promise we’ll one day
[I’d like to think that every great leader
once cried themselves to sleep wondering
if they’d ever mean anything and
did things to stand out like smoking
or drinking or pretending to be someone
they’re not and every morning they’d tilt
pretty little poet fingersfabricated gods rest between thepretty little poet fingers in Free Verse More Like This
languid crevices of
her fingertips, scribbling profanities
all over her skin.
she's just mismatched bones
& blue bruises, telling of forbidden
love through archaic letters.
a tongue made for
wanderlust, & eyes made
for the stars,
even the devil fears her.
Howling For TreacheryI wish I could liveHowling For Treachery in Free Verse More Like This
on nothing but air;
killing the hunger
to consume every
(Maybe all along,
I've been the wolf in
Why is it that when
I exercise my own
these fangs just
continue to hone
(It's too painful
to continue howling
at this contorted reflection.)
Yet every time
I take an ax to
its claws just leave
another patch of
scars on the inside
of my skin to remind
me just what I am.
(The girl who cried wolf
will never be able to
butcher her own heart.)
They say beauty is only skin deep,so hand over that defected scalpel in your bloodless handsThey say beauty is only skin deep, in Free Verse More Like This
and watch carefully as I peel away this tainted skin
to make way for my blackened and corrupted
And everyone can finally see
the grotesque monster that lies deep within
this soiled excuse they seem to enjoy calling
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
then why is it that I can't stand
gazing upon my reflection
every time I pass by a mirror?
IcarusSun girl,Icarus in Free Verse More Like This
the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.
Do not let anyone
clip your wings;
you were made for the skies.
Unheard of and undefinedSometimes,Unheard of and undefined in Free Verse More Like This
I have this sudden impulse to
bite off my tongue.
It wasn't made for
pretty words and kept promises
in the first place.
Back to back and
straight on til daybreak,
our soliloquy seems never ending.
When was the last time
you remembered to cry for all the broken hearts
that were not your own?
You WillIYou Will in Free Verse More Like This
Catholic school can really fuck you up.
“you have ugly hair”
Breasts at the age of nine.
Bullying makes you someone you don’t want to become;
hide all that blackness in your heart
with overly cheerful hyperactive personalities
(that make others think you’re a little strange),
Friends can’t tell when you just want to
and be alone
because of how deep you’ve dug yourself in.
Afraid of yourself, you think and think, and THINK,
until you are terrified you’re going to give in
to those dark thoughts -
(and if you do, then you’re just numb afterwards.
Staring at hands blankly).
Faith in everything, the world, God,
people around you,
all you can see is horror.
You hide it, fake it, pretend to be okay.
Why would anyone care to listen?
Just one person of billions
with worse problems than you th
Last night,I broke every bone in my bodyLast night, in Free Verse More Like This
so I could have a reason to drown
in the isolated ocean inside me.
when my dilapidated lungs finally caved in,
I swam ashore and crawled across the polluted sand.
Only glass-edged skin
and salt-licked eyelashes
can help me now.
AstrologicalI have lost myself toAstrological in Free Verse More Like This
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.
Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).
Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.
Storybook EndingHer ink-stained lips have kissed too many a forgotten page,Storybook Ending in Free Verse More Like This
and phoenix down]
And her Prince Charming has yet to come,
shattering like stars]
So all she can do is gaze out her tower window,
concealing poisoned apples]
Clutch that corroded and timeworn blade,
tearing down castle walls]
Toss her childhood fables to the waltzing of the moon,
[even broken wings
wish for happily ever afters]
[once upon a time
there was a girl who became her own hero.]
lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;lies, she wrote in Free Verse More Like This
desperate to shine.
ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.
iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.
v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."
Poets make the best liars. His black eyes were stars, andPoets make the best liars. in Free Verse More Like This
the c o n s t e l l a t i o n s in their depths
told me sad poetic stories of-
past lovers, grey mornings
TragedyShe said, "The way you go about your life is pointless.Tragedy in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
You bury yourself so deep into those notebooks
the world passes you by as those 'artist' fingers cause you cramps."
And I stared at her with angry eyes and angry fingers,
saying, "I'm sorry I don't have a life worth writing about, Mother."
Rats and RosesI don't like rag doll dreams.Rats and Roses in Free Verse More Like This
The kind where I literally
start falling apart at the seams.
won't you please?
I'm comparing rats to roses.
Because, and this hurts me to admit-
years and years before my bones
are washed clean of your fingerprints-
Sooner or later,
you're going to forget my name.
It will no longer slip through your teeth
to rest at the tip on my tongue.
in the eyes you found your 'other',
We will always be the lovers
who mixed their ashes with gun powder.
Old TricksYour lonely collarboneOld Tricks in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
whispers of destruction,
and flowery obituaries.
it sings of has been stories, and
But, only when I
dare open my eyes.
You weren't the pixie goddess
I painted with pretty words.
You were hard life pains,
and those nasty little pleasures
[ we never dared to talk about. ]
But, I'll save you the trouble
of a halfhearted denial&
Stone AngelsHe had tigers blood.Stone Angels in Free Verse More Like This
that called to me
like a siren's song,
while his demonic tongue
hissed 'S h i p w r e c k e d'.
We covered ourselves in ink,
danced along jailhouse walls
under street lights, the edges
of skylines, darkened alleyways
and the parking lots of churches.
We spoke in riddles gestures;
the quiet sweep of eyelashes;
cigarette smoke that lingered
long enough to shape heavens
within our irises while crows
rested on our shouldersperched
pecking, waiting for one to move.
As we were nothing more than
long-limb statues atop gravestones.
NightdanceWe danced like monsters:Nightdance in Free Verse More Like This
lurking shadows atop gravestones,
long-limbed, and hungry.
We were hips and stitched lips.
Clinging widows to a dying mate.
You held my hand, whispering,
S c r e a m
lets wake the dead."
And in the end,
like fallen soldiers.
Innocent FearShadows dance along the wall,Innocent Fear in Free Verse More Like This
A morbid party for one and all.
A child's fear manifests,
Of the dark, cold, innocent night.
Round, and round, their imagination goes.
Where it stops,
Footsteps creak along the floor,
A monster knocking at their bedroom door.
Mommy's comforting blanket wont work anymore.
Heart beat rising,
And eyes closing...
A silent scream builds up within their very core.
Ink StainsShe traded in kisses forInk Stains in Free Verse More Like This
With inky lips
and quill for a tongue,
she speaks her mind.
She's made of content not
suitable for innocent eyes.
Like that one book
the Classics on the
top shelf of a used
The one with the yellowed
That has been read
a few too many times.
ControlGliding spider-like fingers along your spine-Control in Free Verse More Like This
I took pleasure in the way you s h i v e r e d .
I kissed your eyes, one at a time and back again.
You swore you saw the s t a r s
forming constellations behind your lids.
Please slipped between your gritted teeth
as you b e g g e d me to sacrifice you to the heavens.
Fuck YouAnd this brown paper bagFuck You in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
filled with warm secrets,
that make me melt
from the inside out.
You say I'm masochistic,
that I crave the ache
And the burn of the knife
You slice through my spine
You bend me backwards-
contorting my limbs
just to spread my thighs.
For I was never made
to mold under your hands.
This liquid fire is
merely a reminder,
Of all the nasty little things
you have made me do.
You whispered, bit and tore
That [hollow] blood pumping
organ from out my chest.
Then, hid my heart away
under the floorboards
of your darkest dreams.
For this, you swore.
My Poems are ScarsWhat is the point of poetry?My Poems are Scars in Free Verse More Like This
It only creates a record
Of things I would rather forget.
So why do I even write it?
Why do I document despair
To dwell on it later
And relive those memories
That should be old scars?
Is it because I cant remember
Without some trigger
And some masochistic part of me
Cannot let go of my past?
My poems are what I have left
Of that place I once called home.
But why do I read them
When Im so much happier here?
Am I Lying?My roommate thinks I'm straight;Am I Lying? in Free Verse More Like This
I haven't told her differently,
And I wonder...
Am I lying?
I use gender neutral pronouns when speaking of my ex;
She changes them to "he" in her responses,
And I wonder...
Am I lying?
We share close living spaces and talk about girl stuff;
She has no clue that I like girls,
And I wonder...
Am I lying?
Four Hundred miles away, and no one knows;
I haven't told anyone,
And I wonder...
Am I lying?
TrustWhat is trust?Trust in Free Verse More Like This
Is it that moment of stupididy where one lets their guard down,
And opens their vulnerabilities to someone?
Why would anyone want that?
Why did I want that?
Is it possible
To trust again and again after so many stabbings
In the back and the heart and the mind by those I once loved?
Why would anyone want that?
Why did I want that?
Could there possibly be
A person on this planet who can be trusted,
Who won't turn around and break me like all the others?
Why would anyone want that?
Why do I want that?
DepressionWhy must it be so irrational?Depression in Free Verse More Like This
This despair that haunts me.
Circumstances light a spark
That builds despite combatants.
Why must they haunt me?
These nightmares of the day
And the fear in the night.
That steal away my courage.
Why am I so weak?
Unable to shake these
Feelings of hopelessness
I do not understand.
Eagle GirlEagle Girl:Eagle Girl in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
She soars above clouds,
Beloved, wild, unrestrained.
Ended by envy.
- Chen Yuan Wen, 27th January 2013
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
Poetic Practice - Love Like AshPoetic Practice - Love Like Ash:Poetic Practice - Love Like Ash in Free Verse More Like This
Yes sir, he is clinging to insanity.
He remembers all the things he said, profanity.
Bare the shame on his naked old humanity.
He is the doll claiming love for his vanity-
When he woke up, desire!
He made a move like fire.
His whispers; a liar,
His heart snaps, like wire!
But what are you thinking of this man as I make him out?
Is it an image or a type that you seem to tout.
was it all his fault with no one else to blame,
Or were there cracks in the story that they both will claim-
Spit that and live that,
Hate when you love that!
You rip that and tear that,
Scream like you know that!
Stop for a moment and just listen to this silent cry,
Time has stopped now for both of us to say goodbye.
Both turning on these clocks, living lies that have stopped;
And when the love turns to ash, let the gloves be dropped...
- Chen Yuan Wen, 17th January 2013
I Like To Play With SkinI Like To Play With Skin:I Like To Play With Skin in Free Verse More Like This
My dear friends and watch,
As the feeling of life itself
Crumbles beneath each ounce of pain.
Needles slowly piercing into the body,
Paralyzing nerves and expressions.
A mask of pure horror; living terror,
Kept alive on the barest limit of the border.
Such tempting features,
Leave me eager to slip a knife beneath flesh.
Ripping soft layers of epidermal mache,
Tanned and dried, woven slowly into a loving mask.
And with my latest acquisition complete,
Only twenty spaces remain...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 28th April 2013
Sensual TortureSensual Torture:Sensual Torture in Free Verse More Like This
You are but a simple pawn;
Caught in a maelstrom of ill feelings and turmoil.
You were not meant to be here -
But unfortunately, here you are my friend...
Now then, I do not wish to drag this out;
There is no purpose in badgering someone who knows so little.
However - without your confession - I'm afraid that
I would not know whom I should share my - pleasures with...
Though I'm certain that you will be sharing plenty...
Of course, it will probably be a poor idea to make you scream,
At least not while I'm still enjoying your fear.
Instead we'll begin with a simple agony;
A quick taste of your pain to whet my appetite...
We'll begin with just a thin incision,
One that is made in the center of both your eyelids.
And then, then we'll make another cut - this one just above the eyes...
Ah, I will adore the feeling of watching your skin peel apart
As the scalpel bites in and draws it aside; much like the curtain
Set upon a theatre stage. It is the
These Hands Are So Red...These Hands Are So Red...These Hands Are So Red... in Free Verse More Like This
These hands are now red and so slicked with this blood,
I can't even wash it in a basin of mud...
As I scrape at the skin of those demons I chase,
I am left with a smile mixed with pain on my face.
Since I swore I would savour this blatant disgrace,
Let perversion be writ in these scars I will trace.
From the tip of my shoulders to the base of my tongue,
Are the names of those sleepers so cold and so young...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 15th March 2013
WinterfallWinterfall:Winterfall in Free Verse More Like This
Warm blood drips upon the pearl white snow
freezing into droplets that shine and glow
Red like the colour of his once livid cheeks
It frames the sculpture I have carved on this peak
An artwork made so terrifyingly sublime
I believe that such a thing would be condemned as a crime
But woe betide the unfortunate soul
For the poor man stumbled into the freezing cold...
I remember his features in his moment of death
Hope and despair, intermingled as one
A shine of reality as he opens the door
and steps into the hell from the days of yore
From then he has passed into my loving care
His body as a shell and so I lay it bare
I paint it with colours, to frame the moment of death
and lay it with the others in the mountain's breast
Here in the silence, within the womb of the earth
You can view the masterpiece that I have birthed
A giant of corpses, sewn with flesh
Tattooed with the faces of eternal rest...
"Ah, indeed I am a genius..."
-Chen Yuan Wen, 23rd August 2012
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
HopeHope:Hope in Free Verse More Like This
She waits for him
at the gates that stood when even the world crumbled
knowing that her own name will soon be forgotten
Where once she carried the weight of the world
now her strength is but the tiniest whisper
A single spark, left to crackle amongst the shades
until all is lost in the endless folds of time
It's getting colder
though she still continues to stand by the gates
She is getting older
and thus her memories must fade...
Angels gather to watch her in these final moments
and they bow their heads as a sign of respect
For even now, as the life leaves her body
Still she continues to wait...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 27th July 2012
A Special Happy BirthdayA Special Happy Birthday:A Special Happy Birthday in Free Verse More Like This
Your birthday is a special day,
It comes but once a year.
And so I've made this little poem
For those that I hold dear.
You've lived and grown another year
And now you've come of age.
It is time for you to show yourself
Upon this worldly stage.
Some are artists, some are troops
Some are sportsmen throwing hoops.
Some are writers, some are bad,
Some might be the best we've had
Others are fixers, others will fax
A gamer might use some mighty hacks;
There is a plethora of choices for you,
So do what in your heart is true.
But for today let us just have fun
Rock the world and then be done.
For a birthday comes but once a year
And yours my friend is finally here!
"Happy Birthday to you, I wish you all the best and may all your wishes come true."
-From Chen Yuan Wen, to all the November birthday kids, 5th November 2012