SuicideThe peace death brings,Suicide in Free Verse More Like This
It tempts me greatly.
I say I will never end it,
But when you feel like living death,
What is the point?
When life brings you so much pain,
And death promises peace,
Why fight it?
I already feel like I am slowly dying,
Why not speed up the process and put my suffering to an end?
Stick to GodSticks and stones may break my bones,Stick to God in Short Stories More Like This
But words will never hurt me.
What a lie.
Words are the greatest weapon,
Shattering the heart.
Becuase she smiles and laughs,
She is happy.
Maybe you're wrong.
The smiles may be a mask,
Hiding her deepest pain.
He has everything you could want,
His life is perfect.
There is more.
If he does not have God,
He doesn't not have what is most important.
Though the words shatter hearts,
God fixes them.
Though she is in pain,
God heals her.
Though he has much,
God will give him what is most important.
God is our all in all.
He protects us.
All of us
Whether you believe or not.
SilenceI feel so alone.Silence in Emotional More Like This
"Is anyone there?"
Silence answers me.
You are alone because no one cares.
They never will.
Shut up, shut up, shut up...
The only thing you're good at is being used by everyone.
Give them all what they want.
But you don't deserve to get anything you want.
Don't ask why.
Go away, go away, go away...
No cares about you.
No one loves you.
Go ahead and cut yourself you coward.
It's the only thing you have.
Leave me alone, leave me alone, LEAVE ME ALONE!
Broken DreamsWords emerge and crashBroken Dreams in Free Verse More Like This
shattered onto jagged shores,
while broken breaths heave
from stormy seas,
and tears leap
of rushing rapids.
And cracked lips plead
do not leave me here,
while none so dry eyes
beg even harder with need,
as one hand grabs
for what it knows the ends.
And the bells of broken dreams
rain from skys of ruin,
falling hopeless on a chest
haunted by a black heart,
and these lost thoughts
cry on deaf ears of one indifferent.
As everything mixes in sorrow and
ruins the sun in it's blue heaven,
Worlds lost lose again
while those creul save,
and you watch light come
from above the waters you down in.
StopStop it please,Stop in Free Verse More Like This
Stop yelling at me,
I can't take it,
Please oh please stop,
Stop yelling at me!
I Still Believe In LoveI believe in love,I Still Believe In Love in Free Verse More Like This
the kind that
brings you to your knees when it leaves.
that hoveres on your lips
and waits for the perfect chance
to leap forth
and land on anothers' heart.
that brings two together
in marriage forever.
that drives you
to do anything with your heart
to hold your partners' love in your palms,
sheltering it with a kiss.
The right love
that never leaves once found,
yes I still believe in love.
Live to Die Another DayWhen all you want to do is die,Live to Die Another Day in Free Verse More Like This
Just hold your head up high.
Tell the bullies, "I am fine,"
"This life is not yours, it's mine."
Don't let them win,
Not always by blood but you have got kin.
The world is blind and they have hurt you,
I know how that feels too.
But you can get passed this if you try,
And you do not wave this life goodbye.
They have hurt you so many times,
And that is one of the worst crimes.
So throw them in a jail,
Where they will get no bail.
That is your heart it is strong lock them out,
And walk away while in disapointment they pout.
Because you are neaver alone,
Happiness will be your new tone.
Please you have to trust,
Because heal you must.
So please do not run,
Please rather put down the gun.
I know it is very very hard,
I too have been scarred.
But I have begun to heal,
As you will to if you let yourself continue to feel.
Life is hard at times and you want to end it,
But do not go out in a fit.
Rather hold your head up high and say,
"I lived through another day
Love Makes You HumanI am tired.Love Makes You Human in Free Verse More Like This
Tired of knowing my presence is harming people,
Because they try to help me,
When they should help themselves.
I'm tired of being human.
I'm tired of loving people,
Becuase I feel their pains as if it were my own,
And I know that I can't help them,
No matter how hard I try.
But I can't and don't want to stop loving them.
But this is the price of love isn't it,
It makes you human.
Torn in TwoMy scars do not define me.Torn in Two in Free Verse More Like This
They are all I am.
The madness is waiting to take me.
It already ate me.
I do not know who I am.
I am a monster waiting to strike.
You all need to leave me before I hurt you.
Please do not leave me alone.
I was alone before I was born.
I do not think I was born alive rather dead.
This mind is waiting to die.
This heart is pleading for life.
Someone please save me.
Leave me to die on my own so you don't have to see.
Someday I hope I can take my mask off.
I know not to hide is to wish for punishment.
I do not deserve anything but pain.
What did I ever do to deserve this.
My agonized cries go out to be heard.
I can never ask for a voice.
I do not know what to do.
I know there is only one thing to do.
Growing quietThat moment,Growing quiet in Free Verse More Like This
When you're about to tell someone,
Something that is eating you alive,
And you remember,
Because you promised them,
That you'd help them.
So you stay quiet,
Let it build inside you,
Until you're sure you're going to burst.
You stay scilent.
And continue to help them,
While your own pain grows.
I'm talking myself in circles,I screamed,I'm talking myself in circles, in Free Verse More Like This
"There is nothing
wrong with me, not a damn
I wanted to believe
the big dipper on my arm
meant something more
than sun marks & kisses.
But, how can I trust words
that slip through my teeth
as easy as breathing
when this star
has only ever learned
how to f
wet scribbles, tattooed tragedyI am shedding my skinwet scribbles, tattooed tragedy in Free Verse More Like This
like the poetry that bleeds
from your ink-cracked lips
onto the bare bones of my
Unfold these moon-shy limbs
that chase silence
& beg stay-with-me.
For you are the only verse
hidden within this labyrinth
of scar-damaged flesh.
I wish...I’ve been sitting on your doorstep for three days.I wish... in Free Verse More Like This
Here are the nothings I left under the mat:
i.I do not feel like a lion anymore,
an alpha wolf, a hyena or
any other strong-willed beast.
I want to take my scars
out to lunch,
feed them your eyes,
& your tongue
until it bleeds sorrow,
and “please forgive me’s”.
iii. You wish I never existed
as you grind those words
into my wrists like they are
red hibiscus blossoms.
& I’ll have you know
I am a flower, bloomed,
rooted deep into the soil.
You are just a combination
of 26 letters-
an “I wish…”
I did a thing!I told you guys I was going to do it, and I did.I did a thing! in Personal More Like This
It's my graduation/Christmas present to myself.
My emotions are all over the place; I can't stop crying.
This means so much to me.
I suppose I'll write up a better explanation and story behind this later. I just feel like I'm floating right now.
Dear Poetry isn't just my username, it means too much to me to be only that. Poetry has honestly saved my life. Sometimes people ask me where I would be if I wasn't writing, and I tell them dead. There has been so much wrong in my life, and always kept it so hidden before someone told me to write it all down.
And last night, everything just seemed to click together. It was spur of the moment, and I walked into this tattoo parlor only seeking a price quote. The owner asked me how much I had on me, and personally did my tattoo for 25 dollars. I wanted to cry right then and there because he was being so nice to me. I think he could tell how much this simple tattoo meant to me. A
Muse:She corrodes star shapes intoMuse: in Free Verse More Like This
the hearts of sleeping poets,
NaPoWriMo: Day 7Watch out.NaPoWriMo: Day 7 in Free Verse More Like This
She’s a devil,
Glad for her spine,
& her teeth,
even God hands fear her.
For she has arched her back
for a flower-woman
with sin dripping
from her fingers
-who taught her
how to laugh
like the stars.
NaPoWriMo: Day 8I was toldNaPoWriMo: Day 8 in Free Verse More Like This
to slice through the thickest
of scar tissue this evening.
Let all my inner demons
fall to the floor
& write them out
in my own black blood.
It’s not red anymore,
even though needles
& the bruises
laid out like war-lands
on my arms
I don’t think it ever was,
My mind is a mess
of free versed insecurities,
cat’s eye marbles,
& untamed forest fires-
I still don’t have the nerve
to slice open my skin
& bleed for her.
to the starsI’ve got this arrowto the stars in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
curled around my finger
like Apollo’s heart
& your nicknames
engraved on the inside
of my lungs.
I don’t want to write
pretty little stanzas
or pick at the seams
of your poetry
like some deadbeat
psychology major -
I want to
all over everything;
shoot down your moon
& wear her
like a charm
around ink stained
I want to
to the stars,
& leave you there.
NaPoWriMo: Day 9More respectNaPoWriMo: Day 9 in Free Verse More Like This
for hungry lions,
doesn’t want to write this poem.
As she forgets how to use words
(on most days,)
relying on curses
like casting some witch's spell-
with only ten dollars to her name.
The oldest daughter:
she’s still somewhere in the middle,
because they had no other way
to categorize her.
Getting her first gravestone at three-
not to the gods,
but to the lily stargazers
in her palms.
she would become a bird,
& never come back.
She doesn’t want her death
laid out like a fast-food
how does she begin to explain
cultivating in her breastbone?
Practice Poem - Man In CagePractice Poem - Man in Cage:Practice Poem - Man In Cage in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
When I was young I was taught that pain begets pain,
Anger and animosity, malice and cruelty;
So deeply inflicted, so lovingly gifted.
I tasted of its rotten core and dared to call it sweet.
But what do I have to show for it?
White hot scars that burn in my dreams.
Reminders of a fragmented bi-polar self;
Self inflicted propaganda, to reinforce the "truth".
Truth so lovingly fabricated by a weakness within,
So desperately crying out for vindication;
Openly denying all that might shed light upon me,
Seeking only the company of shades in shadows...
Within four walls I sleep in exile;
Quietly pretending that I am still sane,
Never noticing how it has all turned out;
Alone I remain the same...
Never reaching, never living; I am free within the cage
-Chen Yuan Wen, 1st January 2012
Practice Poem - Poor Little TimmyPractice Poem - Poor Little Timmy:Practice Poem - Poor Little Timmy in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Down into well, poor Timmy fell,
Down he fell into the pits of hell.
Brought into hell by an eldritch spell,
Poor little Timmy who fell down the well.
Alone he cowered and shivered and shook,
He shook for hours, so long it took,
So long it took for him to feel well,
Well enough to explore this hell...
Through pathways littered with scenes most gory;
Most gory indeed was little Timmy's story,
A story of fear and suffering defined,
Poor little Timmy, he ran out of time...
Now then, I think I'll go welcome my little guest...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 14th December 2012
Practice Poem - Artistic FrustrationPractice Poem - Artistic Frustration:Practice Poem - Artistic Frustration in Free Verse More Like This
Wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG!
Everything is wrong.
'As then sun dew drips from her eyes'-
Do I really think that'll be good enough?
Hours spent on each piece -
Punctuated only by sound of ripping paper -
To lie crumpled upon my wooden floor,
Unable to be forgotten.
As the hours pass and the day wears on,
More and more worlds are crushed by my hands.
Realities sprawled upon a single piece of paper,
To die as quickly as they are formed.
A man's whose romance is torn in two,
A vampire about to meet his prey.
A werewolf standing against an army
And a boy facing the world alone.
These are the lives that I hold in my hand;
Fictional lives, but precious still.
Yet as soon as I see their imperfections,
I destroy the evidence in a throe of shame.
These crumpled masses that now surround me,
They aren't the proof of perfection's pursuit...
They are merely my feeble, worthless attempts,
To disguise my own ineptitude.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 15th Decembe
Cold RazorsCold Razors:Cold Razors in Free Verse More Like This
Let it pierce into my flesh
The cold metal of razors
and let me carve into my skin
a wonderous design of love
Love for the pain which I inflict upon myself
Love for the disgusting toxin which I bleed from deep within me
Love for all the people that remind me everyday of how pointless my existence is
Oh, I'm sorry, did you want to say something too?
Did you want to enjoy of this toxic waste?
This nauseating poisonous sulphurous odious mixture of noxious FUMES!
Ah, but you're one of the normal people aren't you
You can comb your hair without pain
You can dye it any colour you want
You can style it in any manner you please...
and yet you choose to complain?
Oh that's right, you can run too
You can run and jump and vault and swim and whatever else you feel like doing
You can enjoying the feeling of wind in your face without the need of
Ah, but that's alright, here let me sit and congratulate you
Let me pat you on the back for bringing glory to us al
Artist ExploitationArtist Exploitation - The New Game Plan:Artist Exploitation in Articles & Interviews More Like This
My dearest readers,
I have recently learned of a rather disturbing business plan being utilised by business people of an unscrupulous variety.
In essence their plan is simple: They gather art from many applicants and then they publish it as a magazine and sell it COMMERCIALLY!
Now then, why is this a problem? They tend to claim you get the benefits of advertisement and artists will be invited to read their works etc.
Well here's how the scam unfolds:
1. They get the artwork you created and an implied permission of use from you due to the voluntary submission
2. There is no formal written contract, so they can do as they please and you have no legal right to claim redress as you voluntarily submitted your work in.
3. Their potential benefits are a total sham and in essence they are asking you to work for free. Want a dissection? I'll explain:
- The item getting advertised is NOT your work. Your work is a part of the item. What is gettin
DeceptiveDeceptive in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Tempting with beautiful wings;
-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th January 2013
The Real WritersThe Real Writers:The Real Writers in Free Verse More Like This
There are those who sit with their laptops and tablets,
Clothed in a scarf and an artistic hat of some sort.
They ponder; leaving a stack of books beside them,
Sipping their decaf as though they are literature personified.
What works do they prepare, other than blatant copies,
Perhaps a half-baked romance designed to woo a lady.
So convinced are they, of their own aptitude;
They are blinded by the beams of their burgeoning ego.
For the writer is not the man who is tapping away at keys,
He is not the man fervently reading with lensless glasses.
He is not the hipster debating ancient literature.
For he is a monster, wearing human skin.
He is the deranged madman, eccentric, uncanny.
He is the one who sits catatonic;
An entire world of fantasy playing in his mind.
He has gone through millions of scenes,
Thousands of scenarios, hundreds of plots
And dozens of characters.
He is not the man you expect him to be,
For a true writer is utterly WEIRD.
Hey BroHey Bro:Hey Bro in Free Verse More Like This
It's been awhile since I've come by
I guess that's my bad this time
A lot of stuff has changed recently
And I kind of wish that you could see it all
I've got a girlfriend now, she's sweet and caring
I remember when you used to joke that I'd never get one
It always used to make me so mad...
Did you know, she's got green eyes. My favourite colour
She makes great food and I really wish she could have met you
Diablo three finally came out and I know we were waiting for that one
You always used to promise that we'd play it together sometime
But I know that it's impossible with the way things are...
I thought a lot about getting the game, walked into the store even
I tried picking it up, but my hands just kept shaking
I ended up leaving without buying anything...
You know, I still have all of our old stuff...
Your dice, your miniatures, your Paladin character sheet
It's even got that little stain in the corner, the big yellow one
I remember how pissed
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
I Am A WriterI Am A Writer:I Am A Writer in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Gentlemen, today I speak to you
To convey an issue that has plagued the core of our community.
For so long have we been considered second-class;
To this day there are those who still believe that we are not artists.
But today is not about freedom, today is about honour,
Because there are many writers that still seek to shame us all...
I speak of those individuals, who take art from others.
Covers, photos, paintings, digital art, anime and manga.
It matters not where you draw your source from,
But every action impacts upon us as a community.
BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!
When I craft my works, when I write each and every line,
I paint using expression; metaphors are my colours.
The words are my brush and each and every rhyme is my medium.
I do not ask to be considered an artist, but I do ask to be considered.
BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!
For someone who practices his craft day and night,
Painstakingly learning how to use each and ever
No More Than Just A Dreamlost in a day that promised nothingNo More Than Just A Dream in Free Verse More Like This
yet took everything but a glimpse of light
left in a memory that swallowed the sadness
that envelopes this day
thrown from a dream, tossed into a nightmare
where a fire is burning which cant seem to be extinguished
want to give up but can only watch with melancholy eyes
as the walls build themselves up all around
choked from the smoke and shadows
which leaves a hollow emptiness deep inside
yet what is being formed is a heart of glass
for the memories that faded are no more than just a dream
that longed for a perception untainted by things that
were less than what they seem
HOW...?I know that love is just an emotion butHOW...? in Free Verse More Like This
it can bring more than that to the table...
its a state of mind which comes from within...
love is a complicated thing...
it's what makes us who we are and defines our personality...
it is wondrous what love can do to people...
most of us spend our whole lives trying to figure it out..
how can a four letter word hold so much?
Deep Within Sadnessthere's nowhere to runDeep Within Sadness in Free Verse More Like This
just darkness all around
with silence in her heart
she's turning black inside
there's no way out
is this the end of
her pain and fear ?
has the time come to leave
can she find a way out
of this dreadful place?
there's nothing left for her to do
she's scarred for her life yet
still in the cold and dark
is her game over ?
just a lonely soul
she returns but still
drowning deep within sadness
yet still breathing
To Easily Slip AwayI'm so confused and not sure what to doTo Easily Slip Away in Free Verse More Like This
there's alot floating through my brain
I'm up late most nights pondering over it all
it is just too much for me to handle
I write down what I'm thinking
I paste all the pieces together
trying to find clues that may lead
me to the door of a clearer view
sometimes I clean my life's window
to the point where I can see everything
but soon the black cloud of depression
covers me once again blocking my vision
sometimes I scrub my window so hard
I leave scratches which are like infections
that keep coming back and can't really be healed
I see things of the past, the future, and the present
floating pass me that I'm unable to reach
and all the things I have a hold on
seem to easily slip away
Silent WhispersSilence can be reflected asSilent Whispers in Free Verse More Like This
welcomed peace or wrap the heart
in freezing cold ice cubes
it can drown the soul by
echoing its lonely speech
in each second that pass;
trying to control fate
a lonely brick wall is built
to cover the many tears which
feels the chills grow wild
tomorrows grief will freeze promises
in the silence yet there is no sound
for silence is there waiting with
soft silent whispers
Shatterd Piecesshould she pick up the pieces or leave them shattered on the floor?Shatterd Pieces in Free Verse More Like This
can they change together or should she close her heart's door?
it feels like forever since they last kissed
all the loving memories will for sure be missed
she's going to pick up the pieces and try to make something new
something stronger and better than what she knew
retaining the good and abandoning the bad
for she'll never forget the good times they had
Forever Wonderingno colorForever Wondering in Free Verse More Like This
just black and white
everything is gone
nothing is the same
I'm laying here just thinking
when will it be just right?
looking up to the colorless sky
I wonder what went wrong
did all sins overflow the earth?
or was this the end of the song?
stars are falling apart
climbing their way to the real world
but I can't get up and I'm stuck
the sky seems to taunt me saying "Good Luck"
time passes by so slow
and yet I did not know
how long I've been there
laying in despair
when will it end?
as I look at the stars
I'll never find the way into the light
forever wondering when will it all be right
A KissSome people need a peck or twoA Kiss in Free Verse More Like This
for others a simple smooch will do
but many, a graze may stimulate;
and others may want to osculate.
and then, there are those who need a smack;
for flowery words they have a knack.
but all I want is truly this
a big plain old fashion kiss!
Memories Are:frozen fragments of lightMemories Are: in Free Verse More Like This
hidden within the mind
clinging fragile pieces of ice
will not fade or melt
too far away lasting forever
untouchable shards of the past
Everlasting Saltinesscan anyone hear me crying for help?Everlasting Saltiness in Free Verse More Like This
I want to break the chains that hold me down
but there is a shallow wall suffocating me
my brain is chewing at this depression and
there are everlasting wounds left behind from
the tears that's pouring down like hard rain
and I find myself knee deep in a river of pain
if the wind should change its direction I will be blown away
deep into a world of never ending shadows of only gray
I'm reading through these thoughts my pen supplies
I'm tired of the twisting wars of day and night
theres true saltiness within my weeping eyes
which could take away the words I write
Mah-Jong Sometimes my father would get temporary jobs decorating old lady’s houses within the area of our small harbour side town. He would come home speckled and cheerfully display his work jeans to me; “the sign of a hard day’s work”. He felt proud of the various shades of magnolia that repurposed what once was blue. At times like this, when I got home from school the house would be empty. At first I was delighted to have space for myself, I played Spice Girls loudly on my white cassette player or watched Pokémon on T.V. Eventually the novelty wore off, and when I’d come home to find Dad gone for work I would go truffling, snout in my parents papers to find secrets.Mah-Jong in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
When I was ten I discovered the Mah-jong set. It lay in a small black briefcase-like box, unremarkable but it resembled other boxes in which I’d been able to paw through my mother’s old broken necklaces and pinless broaches so naturally I opened
DanielYou are vertebraeDaniel in Free Verse More Like This
reinforced with titanium
that does not make you the lesser -
You’ve got the weight of the world
on one shoulder
sometimes you trip because of it -
you’re still walking
and if things fused wrong
post or anterior
and if things fused out in the interior
your circuits live on
and if your thoughts get circular
or so do your moods
and your mind blanks and you forget -
you’re nervous but strong -
then I’ll remind you.
Because you give me
the backbone required
you’re my Atlas, so I lift my head,
you’re my axis, so I can face the future
because you are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium.
You’re my inner strength.
HAIKUWRIMO 2015FEB 8 2015HAIKUWRIMO 2015 in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Snow spiked on grass blades
speared through their frozen heartstrings
the dead snow withers.
FEB 7 2015
We piled like puppies
issues on top of tissues
adorning the bed.
FEB 6 2015
Please. Breathe. Don’t give up.
I’ll exchange all my inhales
for your exhales. Please.
FEB 5 2015
If I close my eyes
maybe the pain will go out;
an extinguished flame.
FEB 4 2015
Don't be afraid love;
we're getting out together.
I give you my hand.
FEB 3 2015
Six shots to the head
tinnitus relieves pressure
of the screams inside.
FEB 2 2015
Wake up drenched in
about who I am.
FEB 1 2015
A roll of the dice;
our survival depends on
a sleight of the hand.
That Kind of ThingI took an overdose of liquid nitrogenThat Kind of Thing in Free Verse More Like This
hoping it might numb the pain -
it didn't. It simply froze my blood
so moving felt even heavier than before -
but I used to do those kinds of things.
Used to seek out sharp edges and use them
to balance the blunt, abrupt nature,
of my depressed self image.
It never worked, but sometimes it detracted.
So believe me when I say I'm sorry
and that I try to stop my veins defrosting
when I see you smile - I really try -
I don't want to feel that heart go again
I'm not used to that kind of thing
and I don't want to be reminded
of all the agony of its fractures and its ruins.
Please, forgive me, if I melt around you
even when I know full well
that you are not looking for that kind of thing.
At least, not with me.
I can't help it. You're out of my league
and I'm out of my mind -
but you're warm and even though I fear the thaw
you remind me that there were also good things
that I used to feel.
MatterIt is only a matter of timeMatter in Free Verse More Like This
until the stone lays down with the sheep
Rested firmly above the holes
where our eyes used to be.
It is only a matter of matter
until epitaph and eulogy diminish to dust
becomes the eternal home,
not where our souls used to be.
It is only a matter of fact
that our words will become reductionist, redundant,
the world will forget
where our words used to be.
Happy HourLong-regretted and undigestable wordsHappy Hour in Free Verse More Like This
pressed between lips and sticky glass;
this is how we pass the moments
when the treachery of our own breath
leaves us desperate for release from
between vodka on the rocks
and the hard place in the back of the skull
that holds the swollen root of self doubt.
We pickled it, we prized it out
with pawing uncertain hands groping,
blindly, into each others psychosis -
your hands on my hesitant hips
and my tears on your handkerchief.
I tried to save you, and you me
but no blade worked to ply out the pain
in its pit-stone seating above our spines.
It sat heavy on our minds and sweated,
sweated its mildewous poison into us
and into our tempestuous relationship
until eventually your hands trailed up
to that place where vultures perch their hopes
on prominent collarbones -
your hands round my neck you clawed
and tried to squeeze the poison out of me.
your mouth nor your thumbnail at my throat
with a salt rim like a Margarita glass
The Bone CollectorSometimes my breath catches in my throatThe Bone Collector in Free Verse More Like This
and the very stillness of an earth going
a thousand and three miles per hour
gets lodged there.
Sometimes these simple exchanges
leave me breathless, croaking on dust:
the unfiltered pigments of other people's skin
and blood and ash
but with my tarred lungs and itchy eyes
I sit and sift through charcoaled remains,
alphabetising them from c to c. I am lost
in a world charred brazen.
Many things I have loved have turned to ash.
Many people. I was naive enough to think
that there was some perfect nutritional truth
that could outlast hell-fire.
I claw through a world turned ashen
and know those dead embers collect in my cells
They are the harbingers of a truth
I do not want.
The skittish earth throws its skirts about again
to unsettle us all, and I am unsettled
Alone in the dirt, organising piles of bone-dust
he did not love, at all.
TattooHear me read itTattoo in Free Verse More Like This
I splashed black ink onto your spine;
unintentional as I frenzied and fawned
to try and catch the elusive thought.
You patiently waited for me to return,
out of breath and triumphant, with my trophy.
We hung it on wood next to the elk.
In my haste to write of the love of you,
I'd written in you. I'd marked you as mine,
as my words intoxicated your weak heart.
The ink had permeated your flesh, your blood,
until it silted, deep inside you,
a permanent, unedited, tattoo of our love.
The OysterIndistinctive slateThe Oyster in Free Verse More Like This
shumbled amid the sand,
jolting in the currents.
Clamped around yourself
like murderous hands
tightening steel around throats
gravely spitting gravel
and ruminating, rotating.
Silt settles on your fore-brow.
There are plenty of fish in the sea;
they kiss the shell curiously
and dart away, afraid.
You remain with jaw clenched,
with spine curved hard,
with shoal grey defences up,
shaking under the temper
of an unjust ocean,
trying to keep your broken fingers
clenched fierce around the cracks.
You keep it safe,
beneath rubble and bone,
and you are so afraid of breaking it
that you convince even yourself
that it's not there -
but while you screw your eyes down,
shutters against the cruel pervading green,
all but you know
that the oyster has a pearl.
GangrenousThe bloated tongue full of heliumGangrenous in Free Verse More Like This
that escapes the ephemeral and lifts up, skyward –
is stuck in a congealed throat
draped with the closed curtains of bile and blood
souping a dam across her vocal chords. No more words.
The hair is brushed, later, out of its nooseloops
until it is straight and lies flush with the velvet,
in a box only just big enough to bury the dreams of a life
lived without pain
bubbling out of the now dead lips with each breath.
Skin soft turns hard – in the way that all girls do as they age
but she does not age.
She couples only with the wooden box, painted falsely white,
that covers her body and face.
It is the concealer, the mascara, the war paint never worn.
The chemicals of her unusually sewn-together body,
combine in a way geneticists cannot explain
to exude the only smell it can. Of her –
but it is not the familiar any longer. Not the smell of milk and dust.
Now, the acids boil together, to purge her of her pain.
The familiarity of her fades
The Reassurance of GreenIt was Ella's idea to hire a gardener for my mother's tulips.The Reassurance of Green in Short Stories More Like This
"I've been doing fine with them," I had said, a little surprised at the sudden suggestion. My sister had looked pointedly at the small patch of tulips that had previously encompassed the whole side yard. They were already dying, and the bulbs would have to be planted again soon. I had been planning an intense Internet search for that.
"I'd like to see you do better," I had muttered, but agreed nonetheless. I left the actual hiring to my sister, though.
Which led me to this moment, staring at a stranger on my doorstep and hoping rather desperately that there had been a mistake and he was not, in fact, the gardener my sister had hired.
"Can you… wait here, for a moment?" I asked the man. He nodded, clasping his dirt-encrusted gloves in one hand, and tugging at his ponytail with the other. I scurried inside.
Ella was supremely unconcerned.
"Who cares if he's dirty?" she asked, looking torn between amusement and exasperation. "G
Don't Let Go"Rich!"Don't Let Go in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There was nothing but silence around her. The air felt strangely...full. Oppressive, like it was pressing in on all sides, choking her. She could barely breathe.
"Rich! Oh God, oh God."
She didn't even recognize her own voice, it seemed foreign to her own ears. Each word spoken was muffled, drowned out by the heavy beat of her heart and her halting footsteps. Every step she took she had to struggle, pushing debris out of the way, sharp pieces of wood and metal scratching her legs as she walked. And she had been walking.
For so long.
She began to wonder if it was her hearing that was the problem, or if her voice was simply giving out. Her heart was growing louder every second. Every terrifying second.
Rich, Rich, oh please, please. Her throat was tearing itself apart, but she needed to find him. She wrapped her arms closer around herself. A piece of cracked, torn metal cut through her shoe and sliced into her foot. She fell. She braced hersel
Something Was Bound to Go Right"Do you believe in reincarnation?" Victor asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence in the car. His dark hair nearly blended into the dark sky behind him. Taylor hadn't even noticed he had rolled down the window.Something Was Bound to Go Right in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"I have the heat on, idiot," she muttered, rolling up the window from her side. Victor jerked his arm out of the way just before the window rolled up fully, and turned to regard her half-hearted glare with a grin.
"C'mon. Reincarnation. You. Sound legit?"
"No," Taylor said, rolling her eyes. "There's just no way it's possible. And I know you don't believe in reincarnation, either. You've told me that before, when you were taking Religious Studies."
"Well, yeah, that Hindu thing was nuts, but I would've liked to know who I was," Victor said cheerily, tapping his fingers on the car window, watching the cars zoom past him. His fingers twitched towards the window button, and Taylor pre-emptively put her finger on the button on her side, keeping one hand on the wheel.
you have a heavy heartAre we still on the two sisters idea?you have a heavy heart in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Okay. What else you got?
You have something, what is it?
I've never written an argument. I've got nothing.
You've had one though. You have you and your experiences and everything that defines you and its okay.
I know. I'm scared.
Does this help? Imagining someone to talk to?
You seem real.
And you're not there anymore. Okay. I can do this. Write for someone who looks down on everything I like. Write for someone who looks down on me.
Shall we go over the rules?
Don't write clichéd phrases.
Do you know what that entails?
No. I don't really like how writing has rules. Grammar I can understand, it helps the reader along. But everything else just kills the enjoyment and fun of writing. I'm too scared to write.
Describe me something.
There's a white Kleenex on the floor, with a wasp underneath it. We squashed it with a shoe earlier, but it was still twitching, so s
The DoctorThe doctor tutted, shaking his head and letting out an exasperated sigh.The Doctor in Short Stories More Like This
"Honestly, we have next to nothing to work with these days." He murmured, grasping the girl's chin and pulling it upwards so he could look more clearly into her face. "Brown eyes, brown hair... too commonplace. What I wouldn't give for a honest-to-God natural blonde or a redhead. Everyone's getting sick of all the dyed products we've had to make. Ugh. Well, give this one some blue eyes. Keep the freckles; maybe they'll add something more natural to her."
The young man, eighteen at most, who had brought the girl into the room, nodded. He gently lifted the slender figure off the ground- the girl's head lolling against his shoulder as he did so- and to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her.
"Jude, I have too many appointments today to watch you take your time with this. Drag it if you must, but hurry."
Jude nodded again, keeping his head down so the good Doctor wouldn't see th
Another Quirk"C'mon, Blaire," said Prosper. "Just one more time, I promise."Another Quirk in General Fiction More Like This
Blaire crossed her arms and shook her head stubbornly at him. She'd been humiliated enough by this stupid "lesson" that he'd insisted on having.
"Fine. How about a deal? You try again, and I'll tell you where I got this scar." Prosper said, pointing to his eyebrow and holding out the soccer ball with his other hand. Blaire bit her lip. She was sick of looking like an idiot...but she really wanted to know where that scar came from. She had asked him a million times already, but he would just grin at her and change the subject. She huffed irritably and blew her bangs out of her face.
"You'll really tell me?" She asked finally.
"No... but I'll give you a clue." He said, smirking at her in that infuriating way of his.
"Should've known." She muttered to herself. She sighed when she saw him still smirking at her, but they both knew she would give in, just as they both knew that Prosper's "clue" would proba
Poor Deprived People"Keep writing." Prosper told Blaire, in a voice that should have meant he was angry, but was ruined by the grin on his face.Poor Deprived People in Humor More Like This
"My hand hurts!" Blaire exclaimed, blowing her hair out of her face with an irritated huff, "And I've already written down a million of these!"
"Not enough," Prosper said. "If you're going to have any music and movie taste at all, we've got a long way to go."
"For the last time, my music and movie taste is fine." She looked down at the list of movies and bands before her on the table. Apparently, according to Prosper, her knowledge of movies was so poor that action needed to be taken at that very second. She didn't think it was such a terrible thing, but Prosper had insisted that they make a list of all the movies she had to watch. Then the list had expanded to include music, as well.
The whole stupid thing had started when he had found ("caught", as he put it) her listening to a Britney Spears song in her room while reading a book. In her defense,
PaybackBlaire woke with a start, very alert and, for some reason, very cold. Blaire rubbed her eyes wearily and looked around the dark room, realizing after a moment that she must have forgotten to leave Prosper's apartment after he had made her come over to '"admire" his new futon. Honestly, in her opinion, it was more a ragged piece of junk than a futon, but she had to admit that it had been surprisingly comfy. Hence, the reason she had fallen asleep at Prosper's apartment.Payback in Short Stories More Like This
Although, she reasoned, it would be difficult not to fall asleep while enduring a every-movie-in-my-apartment marathon that Prosper had suggested- so that they could fully appreciate the futon, apparently. Glancing around her once more, she noticed why she was so cold, and, eyes narrowing dangerously, focused on the sleepily sprawled out man by her side.
Normally she didn't mind falling asleep with Prosper- despite being leaner than most, he was surprisingly easy to use as a pillow- but there was one thing about him that
FiveFive in Short Stories More Like This
Prosper never really had a penchant for planning ahead. This quality had only gotten stronger after he had begun dating Blaire, seeing as she rarely did anything without planning for it first. However, once in a while he would make exceptions on special nights when he wanted to surprise her- their anniversary last year, for example. As it turned out, their evenings always went a lot better when he didn't plan ahead, ironic as that sounded.
Tonight was certainly one he wanted to get perfect, so he had determinedly planned for it throughout the previous weeks. Before now, the night had gone perfectly, not a flaw in sight. They had gone to dinner at the fancy restaurant he had emptied his paycheck for, at the reserved table outside on the deck, and he had sneakily managed to convince her to walk down to a nearby park with him before calling a taxi. Unfortunately, his nature was to be a little spontaneous, so when they passed a fair, of all things, on the way to the small pavilion h
An EquationMath is easy, for me. There is no need to look deeper than the numbers given to you- the equation that you know will provide the answer. The numbers fit into the equation perfectly, and there is no room for error- in my mind, it is simplicity itself. I often think about how easy it would be if the rest of the world- you, especially- would follow those rules. If I was given the words that you want me to say, and all I have to do is fit them into the conversation, simple and easy- an equation. You do not give me that much. You confuse me with your endless vague answers. You tell me that not everything should be taken at face value- I disagree. Or, at least, I used to. I find myself smiling along with you, even when I don't know what you're saying.An Equation in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
You're as confusing as an abstract painting. You have no lines to adhere to, no clear picture to form, no solid ending that I can understand. You are unfathomably...strange, in a world that used to be clear-cut. You give me headaches, yo
we used to fly togetheri've got a good memory,we used to fly together in Free Verse More Like This
but i was surprised to find the box;
full of our scribbled conversations
and protestations (no, that's not right)
declarations, no, dreams
of what the future might look like.
we were young, vibrant, and
beautiful (and inseparable, once)
and we thought we knew how to
take hold of the future.
for my part, i struggled with
age as if i had a chance of winning;
our battles were the talk of the town.
you, you took to the passing of time
with an eagerness that showed
just how ready you were
to put away
the notions of childhood.
i've got a good memory,
but it's easy to be selective,
pick and choose the moments
that i want to relive.
we were foolish, confident
(and oh, so alive)
and we fell into our roles
with a predictability
that is near miraculous
i doomed myself to the role of
the forever-child, always looking back,
always dreaming of the carefree days.
you quickly ran out of adventures,
and set about finding new myst
the cultivation of neophiliai.the cultivation of neophilia in Free Verse More Like This
give in to it:
the insatiable restlessness
that haunts, heavy
in a familiar corner
of your eyeline.
drive toward the night.
halt only when you
can no longer
trace paths of neon
from streetlight to fingertip;
never quite reach the
eventually, stop trying.
look over the paper city
resting fragile below;
tear it to shreds
with vicious intent
forget that you have
loved and hoped and
for a moment
there is only you,
the night, and the need
desire like you've
never wanted anything,
search for the novel,
for the fantastical
and the faintest hint
of something new
in the sky-glow.
stand so high atop
wonder how they do not
under the weight
of all this empty
resurgencelet's make small talk,resurgence in Free Verse More Like This
six month silence swelling;
sticking inside our throats,
filling the space between us.
let's make small talk
and skirt furtive eyes around
the absence we never quite
accustomed ourselves to.
this is easy,
but then it's always been
we move lightly,
an oh-so similar
let's make small talk,
stumble on faux pas promises
and the intimacy between two
who are no longer intimate.
orbiting the past,
we dance in words.
completion (finish what you start)do we all have ancompletion (finish what you start) in Free Verse More Like This
(ir)rational fear of the unfinished
or is it just my heartbeat
that curdles at the prospect
and of almosts
do we really believe it
when they say it's the thought that counts
or is it just a consolation prize,
excuses plied from laziness
like cavity-ridden teeth
from a mouth that
yawns nearly empty
because you nearly kissed the boy,
because you almost let yourself want him;
but it's the thought that counts,
and not conquering cowardice.
almost brave and nearly there
are like ellipsis evasions
at the end of a chapter
and ellipsis carves,
i will not be an almost:
i will be brave.
progressfury bleeds in inchesprogress in Free Verse More Like This
of one step forwards
back where you came from;
the place you swore was
down in oceanic
couldn't pay you to realise
that nightmares are leaking
through eyelid lights
hid deep behind midnights;
and you're screaming,
but the night chokes
breath and you
don't you realise
there's more to this
cheap dye jobs
that colour and conceal
in a coward-hued
haze of fear;
and you are silenced.
words, wonderlight has faded and words are heavy,words, wonder in Free Verse More Like This
but there is a delicate magic
twisting between your fingers.
it is all a-scribble
melisma without music;
syllables stitching terra firma
to firmament in intricate
stanzas that require
neither breath nor sound
to echo, infinite,
within the depths
of susurrous souls.
it is cold and it is dark,
but there is a fire in you
and you use it with a fierce grace
that illuminates the shadows,
and ignites the demons
until not even the grey spaces
that haunt and harry
can hold dominion.
they are exposed
they are broken
into shards of sunrise
and rays of a quiet
you scare away the night
with exhalations that blow
away the fogged emptiness
inside, over and over,
sparking fireworks from
what was thought
to be ash.
collisionsi.collisions in Free Verse More Like This
it is dark, unfamiliar,
but your fingers seek out his,
and you know then
that you are at home
in his harmony
even if just
he's incendiary, sure.
a veritable (volatile)
molotov cocktail of
watch as he emerges,
ashen-limbed from a cocoon of you
to entwine with the threads
that hold you sane.
want nothing more than
to hiss and steam;
than to cool
in your stillness
redolent of broken-record risk-
taking chances until
there's nothing left
but scratches and
glitches in the wordwork
i mean woodwork,
i mean, skin.
but oh god, he loves you
just like this,
this is a choice:
you may destroy him,
extinguish his flames
and half-bury him in
the ashy remnants
of his own conflagration
but it's an impotent power
that is granted,
silencesquiet,silences in Free Verse More Like This
the sound of a smile
as it graces your skin,
i have not listened
to the echoes wrought
by your dimples
but i believe
the touch of a whisper
as it drifts across distance
to caress and cradle.
i halt ocean-close, fibre-far;
and i wonder if our words
could somehow falter
as they journey.
the look of glazed
in your eyes as they
struggle not to flutter
i do not bear witness
to your slumber,
but lie soft and unspoken
sidewalk reflectionsfirst was a surgesidewalk reflections in Free Verse More Like This
paved in footpath promises
and danced to a careful
accompaniment of guilt-
gilded stolen pleasures
thin-lipped and thimble-headed,
he was always armoured;
his hay-rolls so common
that he'd developed defences
just in case he ever
came across a needle.
second was a flavour
of coca-cola and of bitterness
like tea seeped just a moment
too long and sipped with
a shuddered thunder
like shots in the dark
hard-chested and soft-willed,
his lot was stitched of
a great discontentment;
always searching for the
moments he was sure had
be snatched away.
third was a sore
clutched so tight it bruised
and left dark words etched
in semi-permanent glory
along letterboxed ruins
country-lost and urban-found,
he read like rest stops
on an abandoned highway,
and he shone like empty stores
where the neon still flickered
in the rain; closed for business,
fourth is a farewell
and lies without consummation,
seaglass once piercing
but now tsunami-softened
and begging to be pick
perspective (distances)under the stars,perspective (distances) in Free Verse More Like This
two solitary figures
head meets shoulder
in a vast act of intimate
bridging brink to brink,
eyes span cavernous silence
across a pitch ocean,
by the waves.
you move mountains in-
articulated seven league
intentions ever fair
in tension ever
under the stars,
two solitary figures
change melts slow;
an irrevocable haze
of night curving
LostLost in the choices,Lost in Free Verse More Like This
that are difficult to make.
Lost in my mind,
I can no longer concentrate.
Lost in the world,
I cannot find my place.
Lost in the time,
I begin to lose my pace.
I've lost all hope,
I can no longer cope,
I am all alone,
In this cruel world.
I can no longer trust,
Drown in the frust.
Drown in the dark.
A spark of light may appear,
But I no longer want to care.
Think I'll remain as such,
Until my life stops,
And be forever lost.