AloneI sit alone and mark the time -Alone in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
aware of how the hours crawl -
with solitude a friend of mine.
I find my thoughts a careless scrawl,
meandering among the days -
myself the loser in it all.
I view my world through lonely haze,
aware of loss on which I stand
and never think to mend my ways.
There's not a soul to lend a hand;
there's not a man to call me friend.
ShameHere's the bloody stain,Shame in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
burden of my shame.
Let me bear the strain,
savior of my name.
We have born the pain -
righteous, strong and plain,
There is naught to gain
in blessing or in bane.
I have known the blame,
felt my senses fein.
bleeding in the rain,
praying oer the slain,
And know that I've lain
twixt madness and sane.
Advice ColumnDon't live outside the linesAdvice Column in Free Verse More Like This
they told her.
Drink all your milk,
wear sunscreen in the rain.
Obey the speed limit,
and every Sunday
make a joyful noise
where everyone can hear.
Don't cheat on your taxes
or second guesses -
never sleep till noon.
Let Katie Couric
do your thinking -
why the grass
is always greener
where no one else
Make casseroles to freeze;
learn to knit scarves
for the correct charity.
Take up racquetball
but do not sweat
the recommended dose.
Remember, one glass of wine
but green tea
keeps you regular.
not often -
the right man
a danger sign
and you can wear him
with your new espadrilles.
SorcerySorcery in Free Verse More Like This
the stuff of dreams,
that soft collision
of gently worn ghosts
and the fraying edges
of summer nights,
pools under the sky
like the backwater of heaven.
Rifts of melodies,
caught round your fingers,
court and spark
the softest demons -
full of poetry
and sweet oaths;
and dark stars,
bright as crickets,
glister with agate
against the window.
You wear me
like linen and cloves,
fine smoke from storms
and the echo of midnight,
caught under your spell.
CheatsThe light makes cheatsCheats in Free Verse More Like This
of us both,
so we change clothes
in the greedy dark
or thinking twice.
We do not touch,
our skin afraid to lose
or breathe too close.
We pass in the street
but do not acknowledge
in the glare of taxi cabs
or the stiff pull of elevators.
We do not rub elbows
or let our shoulder blades
But I would know you
anywhere - any place
the sun is uneasy
and the skin of us
or strangers are told
in another direction.
DawnDawn in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
How dawns the morn so very bright and bold
that night's dark face can only turn away;
and all our dreams in sunlit skies are sold
as eventide gives pardon to the day.
She feels the cloak of dreams unclasp their sway
and fading softly spun into the gold,
that she will rise from sleep and make her way
ere morning grows another second old.
RondeletsBlackbirdsRondelets in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Beaks pierced with rue; wing tips broken
Frail songs born on air and dying
And frail sounds no voice has spoken
Tiny beating hearts laid open
Shiver of hips
A twist of silk sends coins flying
Shiver of hips
the rhythm poised upon her lips
Dancer, her seven veils sighing
silk upon her bronze skin lying
Shiver of hips
MorphHe pinned the butterflyMorph in Free Verse More Like This
to the card,
the dry rot
of blue wings
in the warm room.
it seemed a stranger,
not the imago
unfolding in the jar
of the wet season,
but a legless pupa
ChangelingChangeling in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Within her garden roses bloom
beneath the cankered worms
a darker growth within her womb
will watch its sibling turn
It swells with heat, her lover's sin
the cankered worm that grows within
It swells with heat
It swells with heat
Its muscles strong; its blood so thin
A changeling child is evil fruit
to welcome to this world
its darkness burrowed in the roots
where hell itself lies curled
It rests and grows as time abates
And shackles her beneath its weight
It rests and grows
It rests and grows
And time delivers wretched fate
A mother's love will never know
the sting of cold regret
or how the world reaps what it sows
too harsh to ere forget.
She only knows her heavy heart
will tear the heavens wide apart
She only knows
She only knows
The ill bred blessing of the dark.
CometYou told me to be a comet -Comet in Free Verse More Like This
to grow new wings
and sit out on the roof
and watch the men gather
like seals upon the rocks,
their voices threadbare
warping the wooden pilings
underneath their feet.
You said I was a magnet -
north facing and truant,
missing my arms and legs;
while out in the street
the rain made the dogs go mad
and all the poets were starving
and swallowing their fathers.
You promised you would
take me back with you,
your charity in my pockets
and let me wash myself clean
in your lily pale whys-
my belly slit like a barbarian,
warm and inviting you in -
Both of us remembering
to lock up heaven's gate
and leave no traces
of our bleeding
or any silent sounds
our mothers could identify
and send to call us home.
the secret of lost thingsan old book isthe secret of lost things in Free Verse More Like This
something like a dead grandmother;
silent everywhere but in your mind
atlasmy subconscious is a continent, my bonesatlas in Free Verse More Like This
the aching tectonic plates of the earth
rubbing raw against yours. take me
deep into the technicolor canvas
of your mind, paint my body with
the soft brush of your lips. find all
my creases and crooks and pry me
open quietly, let my spine crack
open like an old book. take me
out to watch the stars
and we'll feel our worry melting
away. nothing is more clear
than breath swirling into fog, pink cheeks
and shy smiles.
what romance novels don't tell you about lovelove is just a latin verb to me,what romance novels don't tell you about love in Free Verse More Like This
love is bait on a fishing line,
dangling out of reach.
there are plenty of other
fish in the sea, but none of
them are wretched like me.
love exists to sell itself
on loving writerstalk to me like a childon loving writers in Free Verse More Like This
but love me like a writer,
love me unabridged,
love me with all my footnotes,
postscripts and appendixes.
love me when i am alive at night,
tangled thoughts keeping you awake,
the sounds of my scribbling
scratching in your ears.
love me with all my imperfections,
the ones that allow me to run away
with my imagination
and the ones that frankly
you just can't stand.
love me when i interrupt you
to write something down,
or when i stop listening
because my brain is running on
metaphors, not oxygen.
i am sorry or
not sorry to tell you this,
but i will keep writing
until i run out of words
(and then some)
traffic lights and busy intersectionsi want youtraffic lights and busy intersections in Free Verse More Like This
to get lost in your own forest
of desires and fears
trip over huge
tree roots, kicking up dirt and
your knees will get all scratched up
and you will stumble into clearings
that you're positive you've seen before,
taking detours and u-turns and stop
dead in a cul-de-sac.
i would highly discourage addressing
the folks you'll see peeking out from behind
towering, skyscraper trees;
when asking for directions, the
most common answer you will
receive is a blank stare or
mad gibbering, lost bodies
turned wild by the sight
of leafless treetops obscuring the sky.
fishing for poetrythis is an advertising scam:fishing for poetry in Free Verse More Like This
i'm just here to sell
to you all the creases and
corners from the inside my brain
because i don't want them
sometimes i combine a few
memories and mementos and
recycle them into something
beautiful, but mostly i just
lure in hungry souls with
empty words fished out of
alphabet soup -
bait: some fucked up kid
who suddenly finds something
to live for, or
this mountain of metaphors
the size of a garbage dump
that everyone will think
is goddamn gorgeous.
i'm scribbling words
all over my textbooks
and crossing out entire pages,
trying to feel like this matters,
but all i feel like is
a fish out of water
how to write the perfect poemthis will be a perfect poem;how to write the perfect poem in Free Verse More Like This
it will start with a spark,
something that might come
to mind when lying barefoot
in grass or watching teenagers
on the bus and wondering if
you were ever that stupid,
or drowsy in english class
when the teacher says something
wonderful and suddenly you
perk up, grab a pen and scribble it all
down on any surface
you can get your hands
on before the words run away.
at this point you can start bringing out
bricks and mortar and lay them
one by one - but these are
puzzle piece bricks and you can't
just stick them wherever you
want. maybe you'll find yourself
with a nice little rhyme, but
let's be honest it was probably
an accident. you're constructing
a building. a skyscraper.
a monument that will reach for
the sky and stretch past the
clouds and you'll struggle to get
those very last bricks or stones
up there because it's so high
and you're afraid you might fall.
have someone leave a trampoline
at the base and should you
fall you will sink deep into the
VOGUEshe sitsVOGUE in Free Verse More Like This
heaving on the bathroom
floor on sunday nights like
it's in style to have rotten teeth
and bloodshot eyes
and all 206 bones on display like
a natural history exhibit
(in fifty years they will line
up before your corpse to see
the girl who had to ring
Death's doorbell exactly seven
times before he opened the door)
trees shiver in winter
until all the snow scatters
to the ground and they are left
bare and naked like skinny
children left on the side of the road.
snow crystallizes in my hair until
it is stiff and white. i miss the days
when the sky was black at night
instead of faded grey and when
i didn't face nightmares of
carving your sarcophagus.
infinitelywe are on a ship of fools,infinitely in Free Verse More Like This
bent toward self-destruction
(backs breaking, knees
trembling), carrying the world
on our shoulders like shrieking toddlers
(pudgy little hands
covering our faces,
smiles are all the rage)
we are sailing in a black sea
riddled with impossible creatures
things with mouths clamped
shut with age, grotesque eyes wild
with mania, webbed fingers, feet
scarred like a pirate's right hook.
i am the captain and
i am tossed overboard,
the captain is overboard,
all lost souls get left behind.
infinity is a really long time
(especially towards the end)
stumbling across the grand canyon as we embracethis poem is a virus,stumbling across the grand canyon as we embrace in Free Verse More Like This
so be careful not to let it
like the soft fingertips
of a wide-eyed girl on
your lips, silent as if
to say, shhh, do you hear
this great thing between us,
this aching nothingness
in which my heart lingers
and oh, how it stutters.
us - us-us- he - and i. me and
him. we. us.
she is like a singer when
she laughs, speaks in recitatives
like she has an audience (you),
quivers in her bones
when you touch her.
(there is just this girl and
her hand on your face and her
wide, wide eyes and there's
nothing more you could ever
want, nothing at all)
Beautiful MetaphorA name found its way to my soul today...Beautiful Metaphor in Free Verse More Like This
And it might be a beautiful metaphor.
Spread rose petals over the bed of nails, and make sure
to Ignore the personal demons at the dinner table, discussing
why affection packed her bags and walked out.
It's healthy to wonder how often
one confuses lacking intelligence with acts of empathy
or mistakes approval signs for caring feelings.
—and how many emotions mass-produced at
the Chinese assembly-line humans wear to their dates.
I always felt like a fallen angel
Unsure to love
Drifting among monocorde silent streets and
gazing upon heart-shaped rows of insensitive masks.
But not so much today
because I found a name renounced.
When I picked it up
it transformed into a glass nightingale.
Singing in the fragile voice a beautiful metaphor
—a crumpled message left by another of my kind.
I understand now colorless worlds repel the tender hearts;
yet, maybe they can heal mutual wounds with words,
VeilsIt began when we heard the screams coming from upstairsVeils in Free Verse More Like This
gradually sounding more like grating chirps.
It bewildered us at first to witness mother shifting her shape
into that of a red-headed finch. Yet, when we bought a gilded cage
for her I found myself missing her human form and decided
I needed a drink.
That night I ended up on a date with the moon.
She'd been sitting on the bar's rooftop sipping
a Gin Sling by herself, her star-colored hair mesmerizing
every eye in the place —I offered to join
and she said yes.
After a few more drinks I walked her to dawn,
and although the glow on the iron-nickel dress she wore
was visibly waning her celestial beauty remained
irresistible. When I moved in for the goodbye embrace
she warned me about the lunar curse turning men into
beasts, insisting she wasn't worth it.
Her lips left an argon-wasteland taste in my mouth
—the flavor of cosmic purity —while the orbital resonances from her
pressing body continued to pulsate in my chest
Ishtar RetrogradingFields quiver along tectonic whispers,Ishtar Retrograding in Free Verse More Like This
deserts turn to paradise
Every time she caresses the ground.
Queen in white beneath crimson halos
diffusing maternal rays across the land.
In the morning she nurses,
in the evening she nurtures,
at night she waves the sun goodbye
already moving onto the next star.
Sagittarius is Crystal GazingWhen they were children she dipped hisSagittarius is Crystal Gazing in Free Verse More Like This
feet in mud, coated his fingers with clay
and threw white flour into the inside
of his eyes. She thought he looked
pretty but he just wanted to cry.
One day she sprouted shiny feathers on her back and
instantly the whole world's attention shifted to her;
so probably it didn't even hurt when he snapped their
umbilical bond, mesmerized that she was by
her own reflection in the mirror.
Then he wandered. A boy vagabond
roaming across subconscious empires,
playing hide-and-seek with shadows
around the gorgeous gardens of sorrow,
eating from Horus' fig trees,
trekking roads leading to the sun.
Recently she shares her bed with
fate's implausibility, unable to sleep trying
to comprehend love at face value, haunted
by doppelganger visions.
In the meantime he's gotten stronger
to the point of growing eyes in the palms
of his hands, his waist-high madness
a smile away from enlightenment.
AnemoneThey were liquid angels once, legion of dust-devilsAnemone in Free Verse More Like This
now arising with a thousand raspy screams.
Crimson heavy, sand-storming bare another stillborn
morning from its silent membranes. She tries to count
them out of boredom. Dry, disembodied fingers off
the white-capped god’s reanimated skeleton—
recarving faces with hollowed-eyed
canyons and pulsating dunes. Two and ten,
Twelve and fifty, wonders of the solar system
reduced to passing corn rows over the same dull
parallax effect created by high-speed on magnetic rails.
This may be the last time she sees them: A final trip
to the upper quadrant where caged-wolves, obnoxious
peddlers and lab-engineered mermaids swim
in a sea of rust—an an usual good-bye party;
a good-bye nonetheless.
CollapsibleDaydream. Softened toneCollapsible in Free Verse More Like This
grazing the senses. Same
layer of peach fuzz
when port-cities put on
Tuesday seeps over copper roofs.
In wilderness our hands were
blind swans struggling
of gravity —underwater heavy—
and close-whispered wishes
on the couch—
It’s time to blink once more
and flex the ghost sinew
by the absence
The Many Worlds TheoremOn nights like this one, rain and streetlampsThe Many Worlds Theorem in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
are the exact same thing. Men around the globe
stare like round-eyed owls behind attic windows,
their digits slink away from their sleeves and shoes
like fleeing little mice—whose tiny feet pat-pat to
a seismic stampede. And a tree, a tree is taxonomically
closer to a gusting wind—while doorbells, well, those
just send you into funky reveries, maybe picturing
green children holding silly, alien lunchboxes—
looking subsequent under a grimy bus stop somewhere
on a forsaken star-system in Cassiopeia. My cat
is both alive and dead, she's licking her wounds
inside our dinner room's painting. I don't really like that
painting. I don't really like the quaking all these
little mice make by crawling around.
On nights like this one I remember the time you painted
your toenails the color of Cassiopeia, when I was
an alien child behind an attic window, sobbing like a man
through round owl eyes—and you held me tight, hanging
Heart MechanicsNeon waves smashHeart Mechanics in Free Verse More Like This
each magnetic drop—
a loop by earth standards—
shaping Leigh-Anne into the way
we know her today —like
when she says
she tried to write
for a year,
and it got her "absolutely
To cheer her up
I tell her the story
when I found my natural
limit in a can of beer—
the proverbial kid
who kept adding fuel
to the fire
until he couldn't get close
In those weak moments
the waves return,
Threatening to recombine
wanton time-line curves
with high-pressured clothes
and super-heated winks;
But surely, I just
let the world outside fog
and summon my coward-self—
fiddle on the roof—
to stay hidden between
C major and F sharp minor
waiting for blame
to sneak back where it
Enceladus RedshiftedThere was a timeEnceladus Redshifted in Free Verse More Like This
when we sounded
the charge through
and laid waste
your lips pluming
around your chest
my candid love,
unrest pulled us
around the sun
left my cryovolcanos
erupting all at once
and my surface
to freeze until
my smile was
In this universe
of make believe
I like to call myself
a planetary collapse
in ringlike patterns;
but know dear that
there’s still enough
geological fire inside
for me to spin
an even greater
able to hold you
tight in my grasp
for over a trillion
My wayward love
If there’s a place
for me in you,
your fault-lines anew
and re-melt your core
with tidal heating.
I’d caress flat
from equator to pole,
becoming one with
your axial tilt
while increasing your
a celestial body
Risveglio (Aubade)Fiction novel hangover, interverse traveler stubble,Risveglio (Aubade) in Free Verse More Like This
early in the morning he fills his mug with neglect.
Through the patio door he sees the horrors of
past generations marching down on parade—
but those can wait for another day when
insurrectionist monks run away with the
world's available quantities of Earl Gray.
So what will it be today?
Shakespearean swag, battle armor for love,
silk gloves to the slaughter or
tripping over his euphemistic self?
"There is always reverse metamorphosis."
From adult to pupa, from pupa to larva
from larva to egg.
Because eggs can't write themselves sick all night
neither they have aching trigeminal nerves;
although, they certainly don't understand the concept
of life and death.
Life comes out the shower with a towel wrapped
around her head. Walks to him, lightly pats his shoulder
and says: "It's OK."
I love you.When you talk to me my world gets brighter.I love you. in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Surprised you fell for such a distorted writer.
When you look at me with eyes so true.
I can't help but think of my future with you.
You take my hand and never let go.
With our love so true yet no-one knows.
We can lay forever and our love will never die.
No-one can compare to us no matter how hard they try.
The miles apart will never stand in the way.
But when we finally are together there will be so much to say.
One hug and I'll never let go.
And my feeling for you will only grow.
We must suffer the wait for us to together,
But I promise you I love you like no other.
My journey begins to find your heart.
But when I arrive I'll know where to start.
Ghost StoriesGhost StoriesGhost Stories in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
My earliest memory is of Mom crying over me, and of you lurking above her. It's an extrasensory kind of fear: both profane and sublime. You can't exactly see it, and you can't pin it down; that’s how it surrounds and suffocates you. Man versus nature, man versus fate, man versus sire; call it what you will. Patient and bitter, you're a spider waiting in a blackened forest. You stalk behind our dreams with anxious hooks; always watching, baiting us, hating us, dragging us apart slowly and cautiously, bisecting us with your subtle scalpel-smiles. One-by-one you turn us away, forcing us to face you and the grotesque truth of what we'd give to stop you.
You're a mind game with no solution: twisting, writhing, hideous in design, familiar shadows and dripping teeth, pleading eyes bloodshot and pried open in the mocking light. You're the monster they use to warn children not to idle near the swing sets alone.
How can I justify your continued existence? Or my own, for that
Limbo (a.k.a. Poems from Work)I.Limbo (a.k.a. Poems from Work) in Free Verse More Like This
The machine's being stupid
and her card isn't working,
but he's heard it all before.
He's the kind of man
who expects hurricanes;
he sees the waves
rocketing towards him
and doesn't move a muscle
His mind is a prison
and his eyes are on the bars.
They can't keep him here,
So he throws himself
against the cage,
knowing that one day
it must break.
She's so young, barely an adult.
Her back bends and aches,
and he hates how her shins
creak and wobble
when she tries to walk.
those green slips of paper
as if they were his children:
numbered, ordered, stacked,
She lacks experience, they claim.
"Here, let me set you straight "
and then they all point
in different directions
and tell her to get lost.
He sits, pleading
with his reflection in the window.
Wracked with doubt,
or is it guilt?
(She's not a traitor,
but he can't know for sure)
He's not allowed to dwell;
there's passion fruit to sell.
Winter haikuWinter isolates -Winter haiku in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
no one hears your self-pity.
Better start walking.
BarracudaI have heard mistaken mindsBarracuda in Free Verse More Like This
say if you offer her your hand,
Blue in kind will bring no harm.
I have come to tell you this is false.
Listen closely now, my friend:
Blue is sharper, longer, leaner,
than Red on Red’s best day.
She will take your albatross
and slit it open in the night.
Blue is dressed to a fine point:
silk sleeves and noble crest,
predator-sleek with azure-spine.
She dares and she is tempting, I admit,
but you have not known Blue as I.
Blue can cut.
She can sting.
She can weave and dance and cut again,
and when she has finished
she is deathly still.
Blue feels no remorse;
she won’t reflect as you or I.
She drops and flows
and darts and thrusts
and when you go to grasp her
she has slipped and sliced your palm.
Take heed, my anxious friend,
you are her prey of choice.
She hides within the sun.
You take her in, you think you’ve won,
but venomous and silent
she dissolves inside your depths,
DiagnosisDiagnosisDiagnosis in Philosophical More Like This
I was asked to write this down, in case someone needs to know how it felt. “Evidence,” I think she called it; tangible proof that I’m sick. Like a doctor’s note as a prose poem I guess. I doubted it would prove anything, but she insisted. Let me begin.
I told the doctor I hadn't gotten any sleep. We were standing outside her classroom and she looked me straight in the eye and asked, "Has anybody?" and for a split second I felt smaller than I am.
The doctor once told me a theory exists that questions whether our souls could survive in a vacuum. She said that all we truly have is a single charcoal portrait, and no one knows what the artist looks like. I thought she was only joking. But I sit here criticizing the shading under my eyes and the more I think about it the more she starts to seem right.
Am I someone invented? Did I grow somewhere in the back of your voice and rise out through another's throat?
Who are you, and what gave you the right?
AtavisticAtavisticAtavistic in Free Verse More Like This
Step into the world of the civilized wretch. Its hair is bleached and thinning, its eyes are wide and rounded, its back crooks and it knows no threat; only dull inklings of what might come next or when the food will dry up or its mate will leave. Crippling adaptation hobbles its function outside the Confine, but within it struggles well enough. The conditions are skewed and splayed open thus. Mediocre, but adequate. Minimal, but sufficient. Alive, but not living.
Pity has never known a greater feast, the parasite leeching at its wheezing veins. The beast is too tired to swat it away, so it gets sucked dry. The only light comes at dusk, when the tainted-water yoke slips from its low shoulders and it collapses under its own weight. Such a creature is not worth pursuit. You’d burn more energy breaking its dried-out hide and urging it to run than you would gain from consuming it. And perhaps it knows this, and perhaps it weeps in secret for this shameful loss. But if it doe
Twenty-One RoundsDream torn,Twenty-One Rounds in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Machine-Part SincerityShe once said to me,Machine-Part Sincerity in Free Verse More Like This
"Come. You be a gear right here,
and I'll be a pulley over there.
Together, we'll both obey
the lever's dream."
I lied to her when I said,
"I want nothing more."
Anti-flash WhiteAnti-flash WhiteAnti-flash White in Free Verse More Like This
Built to detonate. Anticipated, given every courtesy and then dropped from 600 meters. Prophesized, too: and He said “Next time it won’t be a flood.”
Off in the distance they watched it bloom: the pillar of smoke the sidewalk priests promised would guide their 40-year march. It branched up through the sky like a great ash tree, the tendrils at its base constricting around the city’s heart. Whether lions or sheep, it did not matter. All were immolated. For a few thundering seconds the omnipresent roar came crashing from the superstructure’s throat, then slowly faded to the noise of a single bomber engine flying away.
Can you imagine the resources consumed in the fires that produced such a weapon? The years, the money, the genius, the formulas, the questions, the camaraderie, the disillusionment that must have followed after? It must have been maddening, knowing all that scientific progress would only flicker on their heads for a few sec
Woe to the Blind LoversAnd I cry woe!Woe to the Blind Lovers in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Woe to any man thought free
Tied to a woman like she
With a beauty to break the seas
-but won't even see-
And if I'd to guess
I'd guess love to her, a game
Where I, the hare; she, the snake
Where she preys on every past mistake
-and drives men to their graves-
"No, that love's not what I need.
So don't give it to me."
A Poet UnlacedA Poet Unlaced in Free Verse More Like This
I shut my eyes,
And He starts to wake.
It's an Ungodly hour,
Why now, if ever, does He choose to play?
I wore my stoic mask,
Lest anyone read
Through my scarring past.
It's all too real-
"But I broke your seal."
Beneath this bone-sewn mask I wear,
"I'm a Brother."
He's a Beast!
"And into your every depth, I stare."
My heart's in His hand.
"And your mind, the match."
God, I pray: my fury, save.
"For it is the spark that lights our world aflame!"
They rush forth,
Oh why, oh why?
"Can't I stop laughin'?!"
It's a crooked line of cannibal bliss.
They're charging blind.
"Ne'er hit, ne'er miss."
Through my torment, He lingers near.
"Have I hit a nerve? Perhaps some fear?"
Denied his joy, he holds his tongue.
Despite my peace, He's at my ear.
I move through His world, and find no reprieve.
"In your head, only blood stricken thoughts I see.
Come now, Laddie, how can you ever hope to leave?"
But with his razor-edged words,
"Comes his emasculating fuel..."
Her eyes are blue-
Sea-side Suicides She couldn't float, not even with all the strength he'd spent her way.Sea-side Suicides in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
So if she couldn't float by his name, she settled to swallow by hers.
She settled with letting her final breaths give way to the bitter-sweet deluge around her.
And as she fell, she couldn't help but feel another pain laying itself atop her own inventory of grief.
No, it wasn't the ever-known pressures hiding in the shadows of the deep.
It was something else.
She could taste it on her tongue, but it eluded her touch.
She felt it snagging her shoulders like the Holy Ghost after her Friday night massacres in her bed from past.
And looking deep into herself, she became well aware of this pain's name.
It was spelled with her guilt, and all she'd taken from him.
It was spelled with the three years of silence he'd spent at her feet, carrying her face through battlefields in foreign
Under the SilenceUnder the silenceUnder the Silence in Free Verse More Like This
Of moonlight and sky,
He asked himself, "Why?"
Why live this life,
If painted in pity,
Why see this world,
If it lacks
Soul to sell?
And why count your friends,
In the end?
Why bother bothering?
And so under the silence
Of moonlight and sky.
I asked myself, "Why?"
Why strive this night?
While Love chose to die?
What're Words Worth?When I was a boy I never thought much for love.What're Words Worth? in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
It was word with no hold in my head,
And I knew with it I’d never bother more.
Next time, I’d given heart, and it sent out a spark
The gears turned in place and I swear
I felt something start to leave a mark.
There was a scent or two, now not worth a dime,
But while it was here, all my worries
Seemed so far gone in the mask of time.
I knew I’d need nothing more in life.
They say there’s a point to everything,
But what’s it all worth?
I’m sitting here, guitar in hands,
And it’s all that’s got some girth.
Watched as you slipped out of view
And I can’t say that I’m hurt.
I knew you as a friend for life
But I guess to you it’s dirt.
Now I’m a man and I’ve tasted life.
The sands have seared my feet
And knowledge lies ripe on my mind.
I’m a few days late, but hey it’s always time
To see a friend go down to the streets
And live the messy Chicago Painted
From the HeartFather,From the Heart in Free Verse More Like This
In a world of chaos, fear, and worthlessness,
I only pray for one thing.
Peace; for the world as much as the one.
And should the enigmatic truth flee,
I ask for one more.
Grant me forgiveness.
Morning GloryThe morning glory blooms at dawn,Morning Glory in Concrete Poetry More Like This
As dew drips softly on the lawn.
The rose blushes a beautiful crimson red,
As the sun stabs all things, live and dead.
The blue jay cries a song of love,
Beckoning his mate down from above.
A young boys eyes arise and shine,
How I long to make this sweet poet mine.
His name a mind could never forget-
Etched in the stones:
"A Wayward Victorian Poet."
SkylinesI look out from the skylineSkylines in Concrete Poetry More Like This
To find a cure; to soothe.
But how can I find peace
By staring into a Devil that I call truth?
These lies that have made me
So crystal, so finite,
Keep pulling my strings
And I know I'll never set them right.
It's so hard to settle down
As I look into Her eyes.
They're a sea to breed comfort
But they're sheets to hold my guise.
I can mold with the masses
And I can match every choir.
But buried in Her skin,
She knows that I'm a liar.
It's so hard to forget a past
Painted crimson on the sand.
It's so hard to hold a smile
When you know you've marred the land.
So I can't join the joy-
It's a parade for my pain.
So I'll watch from Her shadow
And to Her God I will pray:
"Let Her see reason.
Just let Her be alright.
Lend Her Your Truth,
As I lay in Her my Lies."
The Things We Give AwayDrake couldn't keep still.The Things We Give Away in Short Stories More Like This
The restlessness, the agitation, the anxietywhen it got to be unbearable he would pace across the creaking floorboards of the basement and moan in anguish.
I listened to the rapid pattering of his bare feet below me and wished he would go to sleep. It scared me, his psychosis. There were times when I was tempted to up the dosage of his meds, but I never did; his doctor had specifically said no more drugs. His body couldn't take it.
A banging noise resonated from downstairs and I jumped. Then sighed. This was getting ridiculous. I needed to talk to him. I needed to calm him down. I forced myself out of bed and groggily meandered down to the dimly-lit basement where, for some reason, Drake felt safe. My bones creaked almost as much as the stairs did as I descended them. I was horribly sleep-deprived. I'd been staying up all hours of the night for the past couple of weeks and it had taken its toll on me. His doctor suggested having him committed, but I cou
AdultsI envy those peopleAdults in Free Verse More Like This
who leave home
and live like twenty-five year olds,
looking out for themselves
like folks did in the good ol’ days,
drinking whiskey straight,
driving all night with no limits,
loving and fucking without apology,
never having to remind someone
that they’re old enough—
Goddamnit, they’re old enough
and if they’re not cut loose
they’ll suffocate to death
without ever having breathed
on their own.
DriftingSometimes we just don'tDrifting in Free Verse More Like This
wake up soon enough
and we're left dreaming
with no one to shake us,
and when we do awaken
everyone is gone
and we're alone and empty,
wondering what we did wrong
and if it's too late to fix it.
And we scramble to our feet
like confused animals
and call out for help,
but all we hear in return
echoes and a voice inside
our heads saying, "You blew
it. You blew it and there's
no going back."
And we wonder if we should
even try anymore;
we wonder if maybe we should
just lie back down,
say "Oh well, I tried"
and drift off.
And maybe that was the plan
for us all along—maybe
we were never meant
to stay awake;
maybe we woke up for
a short moment only to learn
that this world
Not Too Far DownSometimes Danny would get real scared. He never did like to admit it, but sometimes when he sat on his front porch he'd start tappin' his foot and hummin' and fidgetin' and the like. His wife said it was somethin' with his brain. His rockin' chair helped. So did his cigars.Not Too Far Down in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I remember when the men in suits came and had a hole dug in his field, lookin' for oil. "You just might be a rich man," they told him. One of 'em clapped him on the back and he broke down into tears. He sobbed for hours. I couldn't even tell if he was happy or sad. When his wife heard the news, she put her hand to her chest like she was about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance and plum near fainted. I ain't seen her do anything like'at since her first-born son died in the war.
I stood beside the hole one night. Danny stood beside me. We stared into it long and hard like we didn't quite know what to make of it. Then I asked him, I said, "Danny, how deep do you think that there hole is?"
He laughed. "I dunno, son. How
Drinking in The AfterlifeFor someone who had killed herself, she was awfully cheerful. She was sitting at a small, one-person table in the corner of the pub, twiddling her hair and giggling. There was a bottle of beer on the tabletop. If I hadn't known that it was untouched, I would have thought she was drunk.Drinking in The Afterlife in Short Stories More Like This
"Something amusing?" I asked, having walked up to her.
She jumped and looked towards me, her eyes finding mine. She smiled somewhat sheepishly. She was such a pretty girl. Why she'd killed herself, I couldn't imagine.
"I just can't believe this," she said. "Who'd have thought there'd be pubs in the afterlife?"
I nodded in understanding. "Indeed."
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then reached out and touched her beer. She picked it up, then set it back down. "I was worried there for a while," she mused. "Suicide being a mortal sin and all. Thought I'd end up in a lake of fire or something."
"If you don't mind my asking," I said, "why did you take your own life? If memory serves me right, you ha
Backseat BabeShe rides in the backseat of his car because the front passenger's seat gives her motion sickness. Not wearing her seatbelt, she leans forward and hands him a half-smoked cigarette. "To Vegas, baby," she says.Backseat Babe in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He scowls at her"Fuck you"but heads towards Vegas anyway.
He steals glances at her in the rear view mirror as she tests various shades of lipstick and puckers at her own reflection. When he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, she says "What?" and then tries another shade without even bothering to wipe the old one off.
She's only fifteen, he reminds himself. But that doesn't soothe the headache.
She likes to read the map and point out places she'd like to visit along the way. He just keeps driving straight and doesn't say a thing.
"Why haven't you fucked me yet?" she asks one day, sprawled across the entire backseat of the car, her shoulder against the door, her eyes studying her fingernails which she pretends to pick.
"You're too young," he replies, his
PressurePressure:Pressure in Free Verse More Like This
You try to breathe, but you're barely breathing,
You can't think clearly; you can barely speak.
Your mind is filled with needless thoughts.
Your cheeks are red and feverish...
You know what you must do,
But you can't bring yourself to do it.
Instead you jump into a thousand distractions...
Mindlessly seeking the thrill of the 'anything',
You cringe at the progress of time on the clock.
And with lips gone dry from an internal hell-fire
You continue to evade what you cannot face...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 22nd June 2013
Inner BeautyInner Beauty:Inner Beauty in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
The very best of fruit
Is not the most beautiful;
But is simply sweet.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 10th May 2012
If you give in, they winIf you give in, they win:If you give in, they win in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
There ain't no one in the world who can decide your limit,
Cause if you're playing this game, then you're playin' to win it.
I don't believe in the words of the hopeless and dry;
These wings are born full of freedom and they're achin' to fly.
I don't care if the world gives me scars on my back,
Cause I will wear them with pride over a suit that is black.
I am the heaven and the hell and I'll make you believe it;
I am an angel and a demon and I swear that you'll feel it.
Cause I ain't never gonna give in - never say die.
Until the moment that I am ash I will always have tried.
Until the very last minute, when the skies are grey,
You see it raining black lightning but I'll never go astray.
Because the path is before me; it's laden with dirt,
But I will trudge across the mud to the heart of the earth.
I am the core of what makes you; the drill that'll breakthrough,
So follow if you feel me cause I'm comin' right at you.
Your attitudes are made from a bo
No Meaning, Just FeelingNo Meaning, Just Feeling:No Meaning, Just Feeling in Free Verse More Like This
It's all just words across the page
You put them together in an angry rage.
You wanted to get these feelings out
But writing's not what this is about...
You're tired of expressing
How you think you feel.
You'd rather just scream
At least it's real....
No sense or logic
Just raw emotion.
Like the churning waves
Of a sleeping ocean.
Destroy the structure
Of all you say.
Take away the illusions
They get in the way...
Just say what you think
And you might go free.
But maybe this isn't how it's supposed to be...
"Is it really not possible, to scream through words?"
-Chen Yuan Wen, 21st April 2012
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
Hey DadHey Dad:Hey Dad in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
What use is there in the words you say
I'm just the one that you hate today.
Your job is bad and you're utterly blue
But did you know that I used to love you too?
Everytime we're home it's all the same
It's like you don't even know my name.
Who am I to you; daughter or son?
Or do you just treat me like everyone.
I used to think that we had a life
But now your words are just like a knife.
Since when did praise and pride turn bad
Why can't we have what we once had?
I'm tired of silence and living this way
I'd like to wake up happy someday...
I dream at night of those better times
When your eyes for me, they used to to shine.
"Dad, I miss you..."
-Chen Yuan Wen, 20th April 2012
Into The Mental AbyssInto The Mental Abyss:Into The Mental Abyss in Free Verse More Like This
To the edge of the very abyss I have travelled.
With worn feet, gone bloodied and bare;
Dragged upon stones that stretch like sharpened spines,
Leaving tattered spoils of flesh in my wake...
Even so, I am incapable of halting;
Like a zombie, I remain numb and hypnotised.
Shambling ever onward, toward the glimmer of light.
Eager to be behold the 'she' that awaits me:
A wonderous wellspring of inspiration and knowledge;
Perfect, yet fragile, in both shape and form...
It is her majesty, her radiance,
That leaves me drained...
Alone in the depths, I am humbled and awed.
Yet the admiration that I feel soon turns corrupt,
It renders my thoughts both dark and cracked...
For if any other were to find her,
They would wield her as a weapon.
They would have no need for inspiration.
Creative thought would be an utter simplicity:
Leaving a perfect world, without opportunity...
Indeed I could never share such a thing.
Jealousy leaves me ugly, but still I c
You Left Me StrongerYou Left Me Stronger:You Left Me Stronger in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Hey there, it's been awhile, do you remember me?
I guess you might not, since I wasn't very important to you.
You know, I spent so many days thinking about - what I did wrong
I questioned if maybe, I was at fault or if I was screwed up.
I thought a lot about the things you said...
The things that were my fault, my problems.
I took them to heart at first, but then I realised you were wrong.
I realised that you are selfish and ugly on the inside.
On the surface you pretended to care, but like a cancer;
You amputate someone the moment you think they've gone bad.
You hide from the rigours of life and only emerge like a parasite
When everything is good - when everything is fine and dandy.
I used to think that I was afraid of you leaving,
But now I know, that you've left me stronger than I was before.
You know, this was supposed to be an emotional whine; an emotional spill,
Maybe I was supposed to cry tears and beg you to come back, but you know wha
These Words Aren't PrettyThese Words Aren't Pretty:These Words Aren't Pretty in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
My verses are ugly and I admit to the fact
I can't use pretty language when I'm working with rap
Because the things that I write, are just the things that I feel
I ain't an Edgar Allan Poe or a Danielle Steel
And I'll be honest with you, I've got an envy inside
Because some poets got a flow that's as smooth as the tide
I read some stuff that they write, it's just so dope I ignite
Burning shame and my anger at the beautiful sight
And like birds of a feather, they're flocking together
These poets are the Gods and I'm nailed by the weather
But as the rain pours down, lightning resound;
I try to write pretty words but my lips remain bound
So deeply silenced by fear - the darkness I hear,
Afraid to be unloved by the ones I hold dear
I've hit the limit of time; my lyrical crime
These words that I've lived are just turning to grime.
So I wish I had their talent; just a sliver of that
If their skill was a mountain then I've broken my back
It's like t
Fear the Dragon CallA storm of lighting breaks the sky as the dragons begin to stir and wakeFear the Dragon Call in Free Verse More Like This
Their roar will thunder across the mountains as the very earth will shake
These ancient beasts of might and magic, are fury and strength personified!
How many of you will remember the days when we were told to hide?
Our mothers would wrap us in special blankets and calm us down with song
We would cower in holes like tiny rats whilst our parents acted strong
The Dragon would burn our homes away and all would turn to dust and ash
Our entire lives would be swallowed up! In a single crimson flash...
It used to be a time of darkness, where a man would live in constant fear
Yet we have found a special way, to protect the lives that we hold dear
My friends I must now present to you the warriors of the Chosen Eight
A group of our honoured champions, who will slay the beasts we hate!
Now they ride for the Volcanic Wastes where the Dragon call has sounded!
Before the beast can stand its ground they will have it fully surrou
Stretch MarksSometimes I like to look at the cracked surfaceStretch Marks in Free Verse More Like This
of the ground and pretend that the rifts
and fractures are just stretch marks,
from the Earth growing up too quickly.
But the funny thing is,
I don't even know what "growing up" means.
And sometimes I question how leaves can be so green,
how flowers can grow in such extraordinary hues of scarlet and crimson,
yet still lack blood and be unable to feel.
I suppose it's because I'd like to think that
they can hear me
and understand me.
Or at least I want them to be able to.
Sometimes I get lost admiring the color of snow.
It seems so clean, so unaffected.
But after a while, it starts to turn brown,
dirtied by smog and exhaust and mud from
factories, cars, people.
And sometimes I wonder what
the Earth's heartbeat would sound like,
if it had one.
I bet lots of people would want to think
it would be stable and sharp,
but I imagine that it would be
patchy and frail.
Sometimes I like to think back to when I was younger,
how I used to draw pictures
Ars Tandem MoriendiAnd as the old manArs Tandem Moriendi in Free Verse More Like This
lay on his
like an infant
in a crib,
humbert's schismself-perpetuatinghumbert's schism in Free Verse More Like This
bars of a cage of ribs
popping lungs like skin
balloons bloated with panic,
cracking my schizoid
i stand under orange
while i am psychoanalyzed
and i am
nuclear Physicsleaves fall,nuclear Physics in Free Verse More Like This
swish swish swish
but everything else has been
careening through atmospheres
and vaporizing blood plasma
like a zephyr gone mad
like a boy gone mad
like a mind gone mad
like a world gone mad.
through my body,
like a vessel.
with fickle hearts
and anxious brains
A Shade of Lipstick Is Only as Bright... A Shade of Lipstick Is Only as Bright as the Person Who Wears It (But a Smear Is Always Brighter)A Shade of Lipstick Is Only as Bright... in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Mascara was her life, and she wielded her lipstick like it was a knife. She wore her eyeshadow like a sword and her blush like a shield. She held her eyeliner pen like it was a fully automatic rifle and carried around her purse like a hand grenade just waiting for its pin to be pulled, waiting to blow something up into thousands of unidentifiable little scraps of nothing.
Or, at least nothing significant.
Her high-heeled pumps clacked rhythmically on the sidewalk that day as she took a hand mirror from her bag, along with her favorite shade of red lipstick. She pursed her lips and applied the makeup slowly, maybe even sensually, with clear intention. Her intention, however, was not "clear." Maybe sh
Dependence DayHarold Barnes was a crotchety, obese old man, and at 300 pounds and 64 years of age, it was a wonder that he was still living. He was becoming more senile by the second, seemingly bound to his wheelchair while the hands on his biological timer undoubtedly prepared for their final few ticks around the clock.Dependence Day in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Harold had been an only child. He'd never married or had children, and all of his immediate family (or at least those who might've bothered to care about him) had passed away years ago. He was effectively alone, except for his caretaker, a slim woman about thirty years his junior, with her hair styled like Jackie Kennedy's. She wore a pearl necklace, too.
It was Independence Day of 1962, and being the staunch patriot that he was, Harold wanted to celebrate the holiday.
"Darlene, take me to see fireworks," he grunted impudently. Harold knew very well of Darlene's distaste for the way he spoke to her, but he didn't care. She was a woman after all, so she didn't command any respect, ce
boy writes poem about angels, criescall me adamboy writes poem about angels, cries in Free Verse More Like This
do you always have to be first?
walter raleigh eat your heart out
tear it through your ectodermis
still pumping like a gas station
at $4 a gallon.
every angel turned to petrol
fell hard into the mississippi.
cortez, pizarro, columbus
suck my splintered ends of teeth.
The Mantra and the MetronomeClack, clack, clacking in my earsThe Mantra and the Metronome in Free Verse More Like This
like a snare drum,
you're trying to seal my mouth shut
But your tempo is far too slow.
Shining flashlights in my ear
won't help you find anything.
Probably because there's
nothing to find.
Life is just a variable
with an indecisive coefficient.
And you can't solve an equation
by beating it with a crowbar.
You're no Buddha,
but then again,
neither am I.
My grins are too sardonic,
your glares are too scornful.
The likeness is almost frightening.
I could never have kept going
So I turned the dial on the metronome
up a few clicks.
And now I'm running
Clack, clack, clacking in my ears
like a snare drum,
you're trying to catch up to me.
But your tempo is far too slow.
"Get over it, get over it, get over it."
It's too bad that no one ever gets over anything.
Elegy of LightA vivid ripple of sunlight creepsElegy of Light in Free Verse More Like This
through the dusky glass of an old window.
Radiant pinpoints of light
puncture the floor, poking around
as if they've lost something
and they're missing it dearly.
Patches of shadow loom over the room
like murky phantoms
just waiting to pounce
and break apart the spindly bones
that form the skeleton of an existence
that's already so flimsy.
Sitting still and watching
as light and dark converge and clash
is standing on a cliff and shouting,
while the echoes of hopeless words
and hopeless dreams
and desperate yearning
shake the foundation of a person's being,
even though the secure confines
and barred cages of the mind
were supposed to be enough of a shield.
But truly, they never were.
Because no insubstantial scrap of metal
could ever hold back the truth.
Not even the light.
Not even the dark.
The only thing that could ever suppress
the overwhelming impulse to just end it all
is the scintillating hope that, eventually, a different sort of luminescence
theodoreyou sewed me together,theodore in Free Verse More Like This
but the stitching was all guesswork.
(i might be a bit of a toy.)
thimbleless you are, and dead,
always a sorry excuse for Gepetto.
(i may well be a teddy bear.)
[[you never looked at me.]]
it’s because of you
stuffing falls out at my seams.
Frerard: Toxic IIIA few days after Gerard kissed me for the first time, I began to think that Mikey, Ray, Bob and Billie Joe had been some kind of test set up by Gerard to see if I would be loyal to him. Well, if it had been, then I guessed it went without saying that I had passed.Frerard: Toxic III in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
By the end of the month, Gerard and I were the It couple of the school. Everyone knew we were together and, just as the crowd had respectfully parted for Gerard on that first day, they did the same for me whenever I passed.
This bothered me slightly because it also meant that almost no one would talk to me. There were especially this one group of girls who shot me dirty looks all the time and whispered as I passed. But this was a small price to pay for being Gerard’s boyfriend.
I told him this once, when we were sitting against the wall with my hand in his, and he smiled so brightly I thought the sun might give up and hide in shame from the brilliance.
“Which girls?” he asked after a moment of just stroking
Frerard: Toxic III snorted, “Oh, of course. Because Gerard’s a vampire and he’s going to bite me and kidnap me to go and live in his castle in the clouds.”Frerard: Toxic II in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
“No, that’s ridiculous,” Ray sighed.
“Yeah,” agreed Bob, “If he was a vampire who lived in the clouds, he'd be burnt to a crisp as soon as he stepped out of his caslte.”
“Bob,” Mikey said as I stared at him, “Shut up.”
He turned to me, “Gerard isn’t a vampire. And he’s not going to bite or kidnap you.” He thought for a moment, “Probably.”
“How am I his victim?” I sighed.
“By victim, Ray means crush,” Mikey corrected, receiving an eye-roll from Ray.
“Y-you think he likes me?” I stammered.
“Oh, get over yourself,” Bob muttered, “You’re the latest in a line of many.”
I stared at him for a moment. Was that all this was about? That Gerard had dated
Frerard: ToxicI walked into the halls of my new school with a bright but what I hoped was not retarded-looking smile on my face. I wasn’t shy by nature or anything and smiled broadly at anyone who happened to look my way. A couple of them smiled back and, encourage, I upped the intensity of my smile.Frerard: Toxic in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
A couple of twins with long black hair looked up from doodling on each other’s arms and grinned at me.
A girl who had the same headphones as I did flashed me a thumbs up as she bobbed her head to her music.
A pair of friends who were scanning a schedule by a drinking fountain looked up at me and nodded politely.
A boy who was lazily looking at his phone as he leaned against his locker looked up at me as I walked by…
And a few seconds later, he had fallen into step with me.
“Hey,” he said with an incredibly cute smile.
“Hi,” I whispered, suddenly shy.
What the heck? Frank Iero, SHY?! Since when?
I cleared my throat and tried again.
“Hi,” I sai
Frerard: Toxic IVGerard’s POV:Frerard: Toxic IV in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
As I walked away, I could feel Frank’s gaze follow me fearfully.
Poor, naïve boy… He was so sweet and innocent. Too innocent.
I bet he’d never had his head shoved down a locker room toilet because he liked a boy. Or been stuffed into his own locker for then asking out a girl. Never had “faggot” painted across his chest or had his lunch tray upturned over his lap every day for two years.
And I bet Frank had never, ever cried himself to sleep, too scared and ashamed to talk to his parents or even his little brother for fear of Them coming down even harder on him…
And yet, everyone had adored Them. And respected Them. Even I had. Because no matter how many time I thought they were assholes or wanted to burry a knife into their heads, I’d always felt jealous. I had wanted to be them.
Huh. I had wanted to be the people I’d hated most in the world. How sick is that?
But that’s human nature. I wante