The PoetThe Poet:
He smiles as he sees her sleeping
& gently covers her with a blanket.
He goes to the window and looks out
watching snow fall, ever so slowly...
He sees people in the streets,
Chatting, walking. Some happy,
Others sad. Hearts beating,
Hearts broken; some warm, some cold.
He looks back at her, as she stirs in bed.
A yawn from her, brings another smile to him:
"How cute," he chuckles as he strokes her head.
He runs his fingers through her hair and is content.
Yet, even if he is happy here, again -
He is drawn to that window and finds himself
Staring out at the street and watching;
Marveling at the disparity and wondering -
Isn't there something that I can do?
Isn't there a better way for us all?
He looks back at her, sleeping peacefully;
He thinks about the future and sighs.
He wants a better world for her,
One where she would always be safe,
But unfortunately, he has no power.
He is just one man with little to his name.
He picks up a piece of paper, one found lyin
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
My Soul, My Dream, My TeamMy Soul, My Dream, My Team:My Soul, My Dream, My Team in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
We are dreamers, we humans.
We reach out eagerly to that which lies above us
Tempted by its unattainable nature and egotistically;
We simplify the task that lies before us...
We climb without any forethought, without preparation;
Recklessly we charge head on for our goal -
And eventually, we lie broken by our failure.
I myself, Captain as you call me,
Am little better than a foolish dreamer.
One who dreams in a childish manner;
Unaware of his impotence, when left alone.
How many times have I been saved by others?
When I lack time, it is my officers who stand,
They keep the ship running smoothly,
Expending hours of precious effort.
When I fall, it is my co-captain who rallies me,
And reminds me of our responsibility -
One that we owe to our readers and friends.
When I write, it is my team - my uncles,
Who lay the path before me;
They give their time and their heart,
Supporting my work from its birth as but a simple idea.
And when I am dow
Poetic Practice - Love Like AshPoetic Practice - Love Like Ash:Poetic Practice - Love Like Ash in Free Verse More Like This
Yes sir, he is clinging to insanity.
He remembers all the things he said, profanity.
Bare the shame on his naked old humanity.
He is the doll claiming love for his vanity-
When he woke up, desire!
He made a move like fire.
His whispers; a liar,
His heart snaps, like wire!
But what are you thinking of this man as I make him out?
Is it an image or a type that you seem to tout.
was it all his fault with no one else to blame,
Or were there cracks in the story that they both will claim-
Spit that and live that,
Hate when you love that!
You rip that and tear that,
Scream like you know that!
Stop for a moment and just listen to this silent cry,
Time has stopped now for both of us to say goodbye.
Both turning on these clocks, living lies that have stopped;
And when the love turns to ash, let the gloves be dropped...
- Chen Yuan Wen, 17th January 2013
DeceptiveDeceptive in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Tempting with beautiful wings;
-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th January 2013
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
Memories of WarMemories of War:Memories of War in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
What is this long-lost memory inside?
Where oceans turn; what have we left behind
With star-burned wings out above the sky.
The sleeping sons are lovingly left to lie...
A thousand tears you've cried for all,
Now its time for you to fall!
Will you open up the door,
To the future we ignore?
Are you simply lying broken,
From the memory awoken;
Are you simply living lies,
Bitter taste with ropes you tie...
And the world will soon forget.
Fill my heart with this regret?
For the victims written in stone.
Unspoken sin you now atone...
Yeah I've seen this world where we livin' in pain,
Wrap my body round with chain.
Now we both know we be broken;
Give this man his smokin' token.
Held up guns with both his hands;
Not a boy he's cause he's a man.
Order comes by a suit and hand.
Will you flee or will you stand?
This is a memory of our war,
Of all the things that we can't ignore.
And staying blind to the cries of pain...
Will lonely ashes be what remai
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
The Pirate SolsticeThe Pirate Solstice:The Pirate Solstice in Free Verse More Like This
There is tale around the Galbin Coast,
Of a black ship that appeared on the Winter Solstice.
It arrived at a town near Bismarch,
Struck heavily by famine and crop plagues.
The ship drifted silently upon the ocean currents,
Not a creak nor groan could be heard from its frame.
It docked at the port like an ominous reaper's vessel;
A metallic boarding ramp - much like a daemon's tongue -
Slithered slowly from its deck to meet with wooden jetty.
The crew descended, wearing black cloaks and black hats,
Fedoras, I believe they were called.
These figures made little noise as they moved,
walking slowly, silently and solemnly,
Carrying huge rucksacks upon their backs.
One by one, they dispersed throughout the town,
They went from house to house, distributing food,
Gifts and other things of the like.
For the first time in a long while,
The town was filled with laughter and joy.
Children actually giggled and smiled,
While adults breathed a sighs of relief and ea
Painted SkinPainted Skin:Painted Skin in Free Verse More Like This
He smiles at you, as you enter the office;
Wearing eyeliner made of contempt and disdain.
His cheap cologne invades your nostrils immediately
And you quickly suppress a cough.
"Yes, yes, indeed we have to review this...er, many things are involved."
His face is powdered with a layer of self-importance;
Lips reddened by the polite harshness he spews.
His forked tongue flickers as he prattles on
And you're really getting quite tired.
"Oh I'm sorry! Of course, of course I understand; but my way is much better!"
You're getting really bored now, so you take a look around the room.
The expectation is to see it bedecked with acolades;
Yet bare walls, cold and empty, are all that greets you.
"Are you listening to me, I'm telling you why this isn't good enough. LISTEN TO ME!"
You take a look at the cup of coffee you were offered,
Cheap and lukewarm; you narrow your eyes.
"Is there a problem? I'm being honest, this is for YOUR OWN GOOD!"
Player versus PlayerPlayer versus Player:Player versus Player in Free Verse More Like This
Elemental artisttry, as lightning weaves through the air.
I see the bloodthirst in his eyes, the hunger for victory.
A demand to be recognised, yet soon to be silenced;
Perfect and perfunctory - my opponent made defunct...
As I stand above this dying creature;
The flicker of life soon fading from their eyes.
I smile and whisper a word of parting,
For the fool who fell where he lies.
-Unfinished piece by Chen Yuan Wen, 10th April 2012
ConstellationShe is dream dust,Constellation in Free Verse More Like This
too bitter or wise
for her own good.
A timeless dragon's soul
somewhere inside a
scaled shell, burning
the silence in her bones
alive, honeysuckle sweet.
She collects fireflies only to
set them free at 3am,
crying to an uncaring moon.
& she's begging for the stars
to take her away,
make this house a home
rigged in the sky.
She is already naked fever
swimming through the cosmos
& I orbit her.
she knows her paper cuts by name.Rose bloodshe knows her paper cuts by name. in Free Verse More Like This
on her tongue
reminds her of yesterday's.
A heart's hoarded secrets,
love me pretties, &
scarlet letter dreams.
do these boys know
of the bitter winter
like a blizzard
in her veins?
The sharp edges
or the crisscross
of origami limbs?
as deep &
as the ocean;
Ways to conquer heartbreakDance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.Ways to conquer heartbreak in Free Verse More Like This
Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.
Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.
Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.
Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.
Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.
Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.
Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase letters, in free verse yet to be proofread.
Write about wars and victory.
Be the hero.
Collection of poetic nothings.We were opal Tuesdays,Collection of poetic nothings. in Free Verse More Like This
tattooed into the
rose garden curve
of my vertebrae,
gliding me through this wild youth.
But, like Icarus—
I was a sky conqueror
& these silk wings
touched the sun.
My inhalations are heavy,
like the earth he bruises
beneath his fingertips
as I chase silence.
"You've got a tongue
made for words." He says
against the arrogant thorns
of my briar spine.
"Learn to love yourself."
How do I say I love you
without saying I love you?
"I want to replace my heart with you."
You are spider silk woven
into my harvest moon
limbs traveling this road map
of songbird sin.
You are not just in my head now,
you are dancing in the lingering stars
of my night-witch frame
& setting me on fire.
You're not bruised enough
to write poetry.
Allow these bones to tell your story, Love.
FrostI am devouring chaos,Frost in Free Verse More Like This
chasing it down with winter's chill.
Spare me your fingerprints,
summer's lovechild. Those knowing owl eyes
have me second guessing the wild churning
in my bones. You are the sleep that sweeps
my eyelashes, drowning me in my own daydreams.
When was it...
that you plastered yourself to my ribcage?
respiration.i am shipwrecked fever;respiration. in Free Verse More Like This
& she is denied oxygen.
i taste sirens on the shore
of her collarbones,
& salt-licked sea limbs.
but, it's the natural disaster
wrapped around her coral spine
that really has my lungs
Poets have the loneliest hearts.I drink morphinePoets have the loneliest hearts. in Free Verse More Like This
like peach tea;
down 6 pills by morning
just to keep my mind
& I know I can go days
without speaking a word
I want a moon shy girl
with wolves at her back,
bite mark ankles &
a bottle of writer’s tears
tucked under one arm.
I want to be end of the war
kisses bruised into her hipbones;
the epilogue written over her
With these wisteria limbs
February cold, &
these weak lungs
exhaling coralline whispers,
I’ve got a tongue for words
but still have no idea how to love
a universe girl.
To be a writerYou taste like decaying leavesTo be a writer in Free Verse More Like This
and October's bad habits-
when it’s halfway through February
that still haunts these bones.
I have allowed you to
claw your love
into my arms
and chant into my
for much too long.
I wish I was one of those girls
who could say wild flowers
grow up through my nooks
and my crannies just to tear
through my skin, screaming.
I’m just that dead eyed deer
on the side of the road dreaming
of shoving a pen down my throat
and writing these verses inside out.
I am no scribe, prophet, or spell caster.
I know it.
My skin knows it.
My pen knows it too.
Years and years
my mind will dwell
on the way your fingers
chain linked between my ribs
and shook my
to be a writer
is to be a masochist,
and I refuse to get off
on the pain anymore.
You should never attack a poet,we are the best at exploiting weakness.You should never attack a poet, in Free Verse More Like This
the night you took a scalpel to my chest
& fed my heart to the stars,
you told me i could hate you
if i needed to.
with an exorcism
i tried to cast you out
of my body.
i was contorted limbs:
the language of tongues
trying to find myself
in the cosmos
of lit kerosene fingertips,
& the kinds of habits
that only choke me at 3am -
when my eyes aren’t yet heavy
enough for sleep;
my mind tells me to do awful things.
between fucking &
you are the calories
in the mathematical equation
i think of shy moons
and i don’t eat for three days.
you only liked me
when this poetic tongue
space shrapnel aside-
you’re too far down now
for even the stars
to graph you into their maps.
OmegaThere is a wolf lurking in my doorway;Omega in Free Verse More Like This
our eyes holding breathless conversations
as secrets whisper through the stroke of my pen
into the awaiting lungs of strangers.
Soon young pup, you'll have nothing left to say.
My heart is woven together with tight-knit words,
blood red Poe, and thumping Hemingway-
Yet, no headstrong Omega sleeps
within this slightly cracked, ribcage embrace.
"I am unafraid of forests with teeth."
Better Left Unsaid.You'll be a lawyer-Better Left Unsaid. in Free Verse More Like This
I'll be a writer.
You'll probably make more money but-
At least we'll both be doing things we love.
And we'll live on a farm,
Just like you always wanted and...
I want to marry you-
I can't imagine myself with anyone else.
But you don't know that.
We'd both laugh if I told you.
So it's better left unsaid.
I can see us staying up late...
Watching kiddie movies and eating chocolate ice cream.
And having candle lit dates on our bedroom floor-
Taco Bell, of course.
And on winter evenings, we'll curl up on the couch...
With hot chocolate...
As I read aloud to you-
From a book of my choice, of course.
But you don't know this...
You'd think I was weird if I told you.
So it's better left unsaid.
And one day we'll pick out a huge chair.
A chair for cuddling.
And when I'm sad-
You'll hold me in our chair...
And we'll both stay real quiet,
Taking each other in.
And eventually we'll start to talk-
Quiet murmurs at first...
Days PassDays pass-Days Pass in Free Verse More Like This
Life goes on.
And although you aren't present,
I'm still living.
And long afternoons.
I make it through,
Though sadness haunts my every thought.
I still wait for you.
Don't you still love me?
Am I okay?
I can't decide.
Where are you?
It's so cold...
I'm loosing grip-
And I'm sinking,
My heart broken.
I reach out,
My last loving breath.
And you never noticed,
So fixed on your grace,
Outshining my dull, washed-out soul.
And you live on.
ReincarnationWhen writers die theyReincarnation in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
become old books with faded
yellow pages, crisp
and delicate, stacked
high in piles of leather
bound books. The smell of
warm coffee brewing fills
the air as people bury their
noses in classics old
and new. When Writers
die they become adventures
and friends and lessons.
They rest on shelves or
travel in the hands o
Dear Happiness,Dear Happiness,Dear Happiness, in Free Verse More Like This
Even though you didn’t stay long and only disappointed me, I want you to know you’re always welcome to stop by. Stay as long as you’d like. I know it’s been awhile, but I do always appreciate your visits! As an old friend of mine, you’ll never be forgotten. We’ve had some really good times, you and I. To be honest, I miss you and the way you made me feel. And I'm sorry you were replaced. I hadn't meant to let that happen. I need you, I really do.
Black RegretOur love;Black Regret in Free Verse More Like This
Splashes of red,
They represent our love.
Love so passionate-
Swirls of purple.
Every question we ever asked,
Blotches of orange,
Visible above all others.
So much anger.
Slashes of green.
Cutting through our fear.
Like tear drops.
The tears that you brought.
That I brought.
The smile I never got to see.
The whispers I never heard.
The lips I never kissed.
Pink like our romance.
The sweet nothings passed between us.
Like the hand I yearned to hold.
The giggles that filled my room at night.
Every 'I Love You' ever said.
Dullness in my heart presently.
The other colors fade,
Gray only visible.
The world suddenly monochromatic.
Shades of gray replace every happy memory.
And a sudden explosion of colors.
Blue like my tears.
Yellow as pass
You Are BeautifulImperfect;You Are Beautiful in Free Verse More Like This
Accepted by flawless,
Here to stay.
I can say,
You are perfect.
Your personality shines like the silver of the reflection from the moon’s brilliance on rippling pond water.
Your laughter filling me with happiness I am unable to express, but only to return by my own half-hearted wheezes, held back in chains by the pain I carry upon my shoulders.
Eyes filled with the energy of a child, face elegant and beautiful, eyebrows framing a piece of art work for everyone to see, to marvel at, to contemplate in wonder at what or who could create such beauty in such a tiny space.
I always wonder how one human, one body, one soul could contain such radiant charm. My own envy for your divine features, visible by one glance your way.
And in turn, how can such tenderness fill your heart and your breathtaking way of words has me asking for more of you. You charm alluring me wit
Promise MePromise me,Promise Me in Free Verse More Like This
That's all I want.
Promise you'll never forget me.
Tell me I changed you somehow.
That I had an impact on your life.
Promise you'll always remember me.
Losing you was hard enough,
But I don't want to go on...
Knowing I meant absolutely nothing to you.
Promise me you'll remember how much you loved me.
How much I meant to you.
Promise me I'll always mean something to you.
And promise that you'll think of me sometimes.
That you'll still think I'm beautiful.
And that you'll remember my voice.
Promise to remember our good times,
And let go of the bad.
Promise me you'll hear a song,
And have it remind you of me.
Promise to remember all our future plans...
Plans that will never be fulfilled.
But most of all...
Promise me you'll never completely stop loving me.
This is My VoiceThis is my voiceThis is My Voice in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
It wasn't my choice
I never learned to... be quiet.
Graves are only boxes
I'm not dead yet, but who's counting?
The clock is
Time doesn't exist-
I don't cut my wrist
I'm not pissed
But I'm sad.
I want to be a writer
But instead, I'm bitter
Down comes the rain,
pitter patter pitter
Against the window pane
I don't really know how to rhyme
But if I had a dime
For every time
I crumpled up a piece of paper,
I'd be rich.
But I'd have to give it all back for wasting trees.
You can't win against society
They don't get that people come in variety
Causing people anxiety over their body
And the way they look.
They bring out the book
I say, "What book?"
They say, "The bible."
Is it really that reliable?
Christians are undeniable
Wonder.Do you fear your own death?Wonder. in Free Verse More Like This
Is it hard to conceive?
Draw in your last breath, then-
Your last breath will leave.
Isn't it strange to think,
That there's a timer above your head?
A countdown you can't see,
That finishes when you're dead.
Don't you ever wonder,
What it'll be like when you're gone?
I bet the world will keep on spinning.
There will be another dawn.
But the harsh reality behind it-
We're all going to die.
There's no reason to try to fight it
Not even to question why.
It makes me wish that I could have a little more to give,
Because I'm not afraid of how I'll die...
I'm afraid of how I'll
Missing Pieces.I am a missing piece. Something that someone needs.Missing Pieces. in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
But at the same time, I feel so incomplete.
I’ve wandered way too far, wondered for far too long
Am I a missing piece? Or a piece that won’t belong?
Is it possible I’m damaged and not missing at all?
That I’m just as dysfunctional as everybody else?
Pretending to be perfect never softened a single fall.
But neither did admitting that you’re broken and flawed.
A broken missing piece. Is that all I’m meant to be?
There is no master plan that includes the likes of me.
Being all alone, it’s a hurt that will not cease.
A hundred thousand years from now
I’ll still be
My Mind Is A Graveyard And My Body Is A Scar.There’s constantly something wrong with meMy Mind Is A Graveyard And My Body Is A Scar. in Free Verse More Like This
I can’t look in the mirror for fear I’ll see
Another part of me that I can’t let be
I want to cut it out of my soul
And just live with the gaping hole
Take control and choose to lose
The part of my heart where the insides bruised
I didn’t fall; I was caught by the lonely, crushing darkness
Of this I’m sure; it was there more than you ever were
I don’t know why the love I need
Is flowing in the blood I bleed
Yes, I’m confused and, yes, I’m a mess
Frustrations magnified by stress
I don’t know why I pushed so far
New cuts cover where the old ones are
My scars are scarred, my heart’s in shards
I’m breaking down like a house of cards
I fell already blind into decimating blackness
And used what I could find of my heart as target practice
Heartless.Happiness is an emotion I was never meant to captureHeartless. in Free Verse More Like This
Every beat produces another microscopic fracture
And my heart is a toy because it’s played with and abused
Ripped up and torn apart thought it’s never even used
Tiny pieces falling, falling all the same
Losing all the meaning that was tattooed in my veins
Each fragment is calling, calling me by name
Sending shivers through my spine as I fight to break the chains
Showing me the mirror when I don’t know who to blame
It Isn't Wrong...I used your words to form an apologyIt Isn't Wrong... in Free Verse More Like This
Because I didn’t know another way
To make you acknowledge me
But I’m still here, you know
As much as I was a year ago
I’m going in blind and taking shots in the dark
But I’m pulling every word from the bottom of my heart
I’ve had a lot of time to see things straight
You’re someone that I love, that I could never hate
That’s why every time I tried forgetting about you
I couldn’t force myself to do what I had to do
Now I can see your pain, I’m sorry I put you through it
If there was one thing I could change
You know that I would undo it
I don’t want to live, I don’t want to breathe
The reason we’re like this is all because of me
I don’t want you to be yet another closing door
You think I could care less, darling, I couldn’t care more
Take away from this all the evidence you need
I miss you just as much as you say you miss me
I want this forced silence to come to
Never Bow Down. (Failure In Denial)Your poisoned words are your weapon of choice,Never Bow Down. (Failure In Denial) in Free Verse More Like This
Paralyzing me with just the sound of your voice.
Whispering your lies and getting under my skin,
But I can see right through you 'cause you're so paper thin!
Are you really so heartless?
Behind your lies is there any truth?
Can you tell I don't want this!?
I will never bow down to you!
You say across my skin is where my short comings compile,
And that my scars remind you I'm a failure in denial!
No matter what you've always had the upper hand,
Holding me under for reasons none understand!
Are you really so heartless?
Behind your lies is there any truth?
Can you tell I don't want this!?
And that I'll never
Poets And Artists.I am self-destructive.Poets And Artists. in Free Verse More Like This
You are the affected.
I’m a thought that’s still in motion.
You’re an idea perfected.
I’m a sacrifice without you.
But with your life, I’m injected.
I’m a thousand puzzle pieces.
You’re the way to connect it.
Perfect on PaperWe cut heartsPerfect on Paper in Free Verse More Like This
into paper to make streams
That was my impression of it.
That you ripped
the pieces you didn't want
until you got something that was
It's no wonder
that I can't believe that someone
would think I was paper-perfect,
Framed[ I met him at the county fair.Framed in Free Verse More Like This
It wasn't like the songs predicted;
I had mud up my shins and he
had grass in his hair. What a mess. ]
[ I kissed him at my grandma's house.
He swallowed me and digested me;
I became a part of his simmering self.
We fused together, and I died. ]
[ I married him in a triangular church,
When I turned up in white he grinned
and whispered "what, no muddy knees?".
I put a leaf from my bouquet in his hair. ]
[ He kissed her at my grandma's house.
She had left it to us when she passed.
In the house where I'd learned about love
he taught me all I know about betrayal. ]
[ He left me at the train station.
I'd helped him with his leather suitcase,
struggling to get a grip of the situation
I gave a habitual kiss goodbye. Awkward. ]
[ He met another girl in group therapy.
They had a mad, passionate affair for a year
then, it expired. Shortly after, she did too.
He came to me, life turning to sand. ]
[ I forgave him at my birthday party
surrounded by friends wh
Star-writHear me read it!Star-writ in Free Verse More Like This
It is nebulonic fate that we should dance
together in this burning bald ballroom
as the flames lick up the sepiatic walls
and drip curled paper down upon us.
It is our right to spin each other here
in the torrentous reign of flames and ash
as the chandelier, already hanging,
spits and sparks at us, trying to take us too;
and as everything we ever loved or cherished
in porcelain veneer or hand-crafted sycamore
crumbles to a close, still the thought remains-
that it is our star-writ fate to dance on.
In absence of a poem.I chewed my pen to the nibIn absence of a poem. in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and swallowed the ink thoughtlessly,
but no matter how long I thought,
I couldn't say what you mean to me.
I tried, I tried and I tested,
every word in my diminutive range,
but I screwed up more pieces of paper
and happened upon something strange;
I noticed words, which have served me,
for all of my formative years,
had no power to convey my gratitude
for the times that you dried my tears.
Whenever I doubt myself (often),
You're the one who tells me I'm wrong
You lift up my chin and remind me, wait
for the good things that will come along.
I can't find a way to express how
you are the saving grace in my head.
So words can't tell you how I love you -
I hope my silence will tell you instead.
CopperThe underside of my heartCopper in Free Verse More Like This
has rusted through the shell.
Smooth tissue hangs, sodden,
through the ring of oxidised needles.
The frantic muscle
takes on water, tries not to drown,
in the body of fluids
you spat into my chest cavity.
Heavy barnacles of regret
cluster cancerously 'round 'til,
like all else, they disintegrate
with the acidic memory of you.
Sometimes, it's the little things.He always told me I was deep.Sometimes, it's the little things. in Concrete Poetry More Like This
An unfiltered distillation of a humanitarian ocean.
He accepted me, gills and all -
He knew that I needed my eccentricities to breathe
under the seascrapers of pollution
that hung over my head.
Or he said he did.
At the end of it all,
he tugged the gills open to expose me;
my innards trailed across the coral reef
as I swam trustingly forward, hoping for the best.
I tried to believe.
I believed him, gills and all -
But eventually, he left me, with holes in my sides
Where he had spooned out my intestines
To tether them to a boulder.
I tried to breathe.
He always told me I was deep.
It must have been a surprise to read:
Death by puddle.
The WallI punched the wall.The Wall in Free Verse More Like This
The paper broke, a split lipped frown.
That was the thin veneer of joy you painted over my cracks with.
I punched the wall.
The paper bloomed into a paprika tulip.
That was the rusting screw in your jaw swinging off its hinge with your lies.
I punched the wall.
The paint broke into a smile
and I chipped out its teeth. They were the over polished hopes of our future.
I punched the wall.
The plaster spluttered out a storm.
Smooth and sleepy; I scratched at its eyes for promising to look out for me.
I punched the wall.
The plaster coughed hard again.
My anger was a consumption and its tendrils spasmed out from the source.
I punched the wall.
The plaster caved into a hole,
reminding me of all I'd given you and would never get back.
I didn't punch the wall
When the dust settled and its small red brick heart lay exposed, vulnerable, afraid,
You punched the wall.
CarvedYou are an oak carved tableCarved in Free Verse More Like This
that has been hewn and hacked
from its original pure form
into something someone found useful.
I was screwed tight together
with fixtures, fights and fittings
by so-called master craftsmen,
who wanted me to be firm,
who wanted my artificial endurance.
Men who wanted my knots undone
and for me to hold them up,
but I am a chair, and you are a table.
You have told me of the days
when seventy percent of you
was forcefully ripped out
leaving a splintered hollow behind.
I know how abrasive people
rubbed you up the wrong way
with sand paper to keep you quiet,
and with words to keep you down.
Plain men with plained minds
that have been stroked to the quick
and left only with the core
of their brutal carver instincts.
I know how you were made, table.
I am five pieces nailed together
With sticky tape for good measure.
You are one whole still, somehow
and when I need you, you are stable
and your legs are thicker than mine,
run faster and bear more pressure
on your leve
The DescriptionHe drinks coffeeThe Description in Free Verse More Like This
its the art of seduction,
and quite honestly
when he does it
it might as well be.
You'll catch him
frowning into it
as he hastily scribbles
in a notebook
to make the world
El cambia a español
en la mitad del frase
and I don't think
he even realises.
He loves the world
that to be a part of it
leaves you feeling
He makes the world seem
to contain his love
and when he smiles,
because he reminds me
that there is hope
to be had.
For the world,
For people like us.
He is soil,
Salt of the earth,
of everything good
that will grow from
He is a ramshackled
waking up to
the realisation that
he is an innovator;
and that his passion
could change the world.
DaleHear me read itDale in Free Verse More Like This
They will not silence the bells for you.
The roses will not halt their will to wilt
and lilies will disassemble under the earth.
They will not dust Frankincense over cities
and trees will not bow down in grief
willingly donating limbs to become tissues.
But throats will dry out mid-sentence and
black hankerchiefs will be dubbed into pockets.
There will be enough salt to melt the ice
embedded around the hearts of old enemies.
Old enemies will turn friend once more
and the church will be full, packed with love.
The world is unlikely to take a moment's prayer;
Earth spins too fast to pause for any of us.
But the meagre collection of people you touched
(meagréd only by the tear-ridden knowledge
that you would have touched many more in time)
Will ache tonight and whisper of your friendship.
You were and always will be; loved.
There is no place for me.There is no place for my ideals or me,There is no place for me. in Concrete Poetry More Like This
There is no place for justice or mercy.
There is no place for true love anymore,
It's a sad truth, it saddens me at the core.
There is no place for me in this world,
Where the cries of the needy must go unheard.
I'm cast out for my ideals, my gentleman's code,
Well, I was born like this, a man in hero mode.
There is no place for a hero in this world,
The knight in shining armour must go unheard.
There is no such thing as a Fairy Tale,
I am not Prince Charming, just another sail.
On a boat afloat on a sea of sadness,
The winds of mourning passing through me.
There is nowhere in this world for me...
There is nowhere in this world for gallantry.
I'm going to cry.I'm going to cry for all I've lost,I'm going to cry. in Free Verse More Like This
And you can't or won't stop me.
I'm going to die for all I was,
And all you'll do is watch me.
I'm going to hide from you,
Afraid to show my weakness.
I would happily die for you,
But I still regret this.
I didn't want this life,
I didn't want these tears.
I didn't want this life,
I didn't want these fears.
I used to cause myself pain,
To make sure I still feel.
I'll do it now and again,
To make sure it's still real.
I'm going to cry for all I've lost,
And you can't stop me.
These tears I cry at my cost,
For once will flow freely.
Everything in life.I need to hurt myself... No, you don't.Everything in life. in Concrete Poetry More Like This
I did this... I need to hurt myself for it.
It won't go away if you do, you know it won't.
But everything in life has its consequence...
Maybe if I hurt myself, then I won't have to feel them,
Maybe it'll be consequence enough, if I'm hurt then.
Maybe she won't dump me for what I did too,
Maybe it'll be consequence enough for what I did to you.
I don't get why you're worried though...
But I dream the future, read my poetry, sometimes, I do.
And a few nights I felt a crossover, a nightmare come true,
And now I know that it has happened, because of what I did to you.
So now, I need to hurt myself, to give me a consequence,
So now, I need to fade away, and never be spoken of since.
And now, I want to hurt myself, to save myself more pain,
But all things come to an end, and it's always the same.
Discarded.You cry for your sorrows and you bleed for your dreams,Discarded. in Free Verse More Like This
Just always remember, this world is not what it seems.
You can be the best of friends and then disappear,
They'll just discard you, I know it's hard to hear.
But this has happened enough to me,
It's all everyone's been doing recently.
So here I lie, discarded, fearing to stand up,
Because what waits just isn't worth getting up.
Thrown away and lying in a puddle of mud and blood,
All the other times I got up, and wiped off the mud.
But this time, as I lie here, broken and bloody,
I don't want to get up, I want to be a dead body.
I know getting up is inevitable, because I will never give in,
But I really just want to give up and say that "I'm done in."
The Night Of Silence.Loud music blaring, older children scaring.The Night Of Silence. in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
It is the night of all Hallow's eve, when we believe the lies we weave.
Parties continue well into the night, but it is different tonight.
At midnight, there's a sudden hush, and shadow snuffs out the light.
The dark is rising, just another lost warning.
Demons blend in, walking side by side with masked human.
All Hallow's has come, but no one knows to run.
The dark is rising, just a forgotten warning.
The dark snuffs out the light, and shall wreak havoc tonight.
All Hallow's has come, and no one remembers to run.
The dark is rising, and the precious light is falling.
All Hallow's has come, and the massacre, has begun.
Without You.And as the blood runs off of this blade,Without You. in Free Verse More Like This
And drips out onto this far out glade.
I really wish I'd told you no,
I really wish I had told you "don't go".
And as the tears ran from your eye,
I wish I could've made them dry.
But right now I wish more than anything,
That you were mine, because I am nothing.
92. All That I Have.All that I have, I give to you.92. All That I Have. in Free Verse More Like This
My mind, my body, my soul, all to you.
I give you my everything, treat it with care,
And all that I ask from you is you keep your flare.
That one thing, that magic, that spark that drew me to you,
All that I have, I give to you, do with it whatever you want to.
All that I ask is that you let me love you,
And that you tell me that you love me too.
All that I have, I give to you,
I give everything, all of it, to you,
All that I ask in return is you let me love you,
That you believe I love you, and that you love me too.
Jennifer, I give you my everything, because I love you.
The Child's Song."Corporations are evil!"The Child's Song. in Free Verse More Like This
"Corporations are evil!"
Say the little children in a sing song voice,
The parents wonder as the children rejoice.
What has inspired this strange song?
Why are corporations so very wrong?
Which child started and when will it end?
And how can they see that they pretend?
One child had skipped through the village, singing,
And soon, to the tune the church bells were ringing.
Such a catchy tune it was hard to not hum,
A protest is catchy, it's an old rule of thumb.
We are the down-trodden and angry masses,
Our tune is carried by every man that passes.
We are the oppressed masters of the future,
We shall not be quietly pushed to the corner!
It all began with a simple child's song,
And now the angry protest has begun.
It all began with a naive little lover,
And now they are the mightiest fighter!
Our Poor JesterOur poor Jester bit off more than she could chew,Our Poor Jester in Concrete Poetry More Like This
I suppose it was inevitable, being the human in the crew.
It happens to all of us, and we all must start anew,
But still, our poor poor Jester, you have us, your crew.
Now I know you might not want a Reaper's comforts,
And well, even despite my best efforts.
The touch of death is hardly the greatest of comforts,
Even though an Angel's pity is one of the sweetest of desserts.
Callous hands and callous ways, coupled with a callous tongue,
I cannot help but feel I'm to blame, at least if only for some.
Please know, none of it was intended, I never tried to depress you,
Guys, it looks like our poor Jester has bit off more than she can chew.
Don't worry though Riddle, we have people to take care of you,
The perfect person, an Angel for comfort, and of course Sarah too.
Our poor poor Jester has bitten off more than she can chew...
But as long as we have breath in our lungs, we will look after you.
Armageddon.Yes, I still want you.Armageddon. in Free Verse More Like This
But do I still need you?
I need you like fire thirsts for water,
I need you like a cactus craves the sun.
I need you like a bird needs its wings clipped,
I need you as penance for all I have done.
Yet I still want you,
When your eyes are purgatory itself.
There is no passion in that fire,
But I want that simple burning hatred.
I need you like a child needs to plunge its hand into fire,
And yet you still glint and catch my eye and I want you.
I want you and need you,
Like I want and need the world to end.
You are my armageddon,
And your name is Jennifer.
R.I.P WordsDo you know what it feels like?R.I.P Words in Free Verse More Like This
To feel something, but...
be unable to express what it is;
to be silent;
to fight it alone.
I know how much it hurts,
but I don't know how to show it.
Poetry used to be my refuge,
a place where I could be alone -
express all my emotions,
without being judged.
I'm losing it.
I can't connect to poetry.
Everything sounds so stupid...
Everything I write sounds stupid.
I have to erase all my feelings,
because they don't sound right.
The words aren't real.
They don't show what I feel
And maybe this will be the last.
Maybe I'm gone:
lost of all emotions.
I'm truly alone...
I used to have poetry.
Now I have nothing.
My name is NothingMy name is Nothing,My name is Nothing in Free Verse More Like This
And I know...
You're in love with her -
I'm just your friend.
I am nothing else.
I am Nothing to you;
I'm a ghost that listens
to your many woes;
I give you space to
take a deep breath in;
I am who you turn to
when you have no one;
I'm always there for you,
but never actually there.
My name is Nothing.
And I know it was absurd
for me to think that
I could be her,
that I could be...
Socially awkwardDo you know what it feels like?Socially awkward in Free Verse More Like This
To feel so socially awkward
around people that you feel
uncomfortable in your own skin,
knowing that you don't fit in.
And, you walk away...
thinking that being alone
will be better for you -
but you're wrong.
You just feel even more alone;
even more rejected from society;
perhaps even sad, in some way.
What do you do while waiting for someone?
As you wait, and wait, and wait for them -
hoping they'll come soon
lest you seem like a loner
walking aimlessly around,
causing people to pity you.
And your face gets hot,
you start to sweat because
they know -
they know of how alone you are
and they feel sorry for you.
Today, I cried.December 10th, 2012.Today, I cried. in Free Verse More Like This
Today I cried.
I wasn't bullied today.
Neither was I bullied yesterday.
Nor am I going to be tomorrow.
But I cried.
Because I relived every moment.
And that was enough.
I succumbed to my emotions.
Today I cried.
I wasn't particularly weak today.
Neither was I weak yesterday.
Nor am I going to be weak tomorrow.
But I cried.
Because I relived every moment.
And I'm not ashamed.
I succumbed to my emotions.
But... I'm not ashamed.
Today I cried.
But that's just the way I am.
Once in a while, you just need a good cry.
To remind yourself of:
the little emotion you have left.
Winning isn't everythingCongratulations.Winning isn't everything in Free Verse More Like This
Why, congratulations...you win!
And this will be the ninth time,
the ninth time you've won.
Soon enough, it'll be the tenth
and it's what I hate most about you -
how you want to win, all the time.
A mere joke can be twisted into
an inevitable argument, where
hot tears are shed and
relationships are broken.
That's why you're always,
always, going to be alone...
because you can't bear to lose,
'cause you're only used to winning.
Congratulations... you win,
and your prize?
A lifetime of loneliness.
No one wants a stupid personDo you know how it feels to be played?No one wants a stupid person in Free Verse More Like This
Human emotions flickering on and off
like that broken light bulb, clinging on
to you when you radiate intelligence,
and mistreating you when you're stupid.
First step: the monsters unleash their
true colours, calloused claws cutting
a bloodied mark of my heart, the drips
of dark red. They ridicule you, without
any guilt or thought for how you feel
Second step: then they transform into
feeble and fictitious felines. They strut
and attempt to capture you into their
idiotic game. They purr and plead for
your help, ever so plastic-like.
Third step: you make a mistake and
help their ''apparent'' sorry selves.
Then they take that help, unleash their
vicious claws for the true monsters that
they are and rip that help to shreds,
leaving you broken
and soon enough dead.
Keeping secretsHave you ever cried yourself to sleep?Keeping secrets in Free Verse More Like This
And if someone asked you that,
how would you answer?
Truth be told, I used to -
Just lie in bed and think,
think about every single thing
and how I felt about it...
what it meant to me.
But I'll just say no,
because I don't want you to know
about how weak I am.
And it is when all is silent,
the tears will slide slowly,
soaking your pillow.
Like a movie,
the scene plays out in your head
of all those times when you were
damaged and broken.
Replayed and replayed until
all the images end up blur and disjointed.
Have you ever cried yourself to sleep?
Yes, I have - many times, in fact.
But I'll just say no
because you're my friend
and if I were to tell you,
it would be the end.
Hate into loveI think I might be in loveHate into love in Free Verse More Like This
The story starts with hate
Where you provoked me
In the end, turning to be bait
I don't understand myself
Insults spurring from you
Self-esteem plunging down
Yet I felt something true
You're a demented creature
Having gone through hell
Once opening your soul to me
Leaving me enchanted like a spell
That time was so precious
You told me your story
No longer talking like before
Yet imprinted into my memory
As your story ended
Mine was soon to unfold
I won't forget your help
Where you taught me control
Feelings forever fluctuating
Sudden warmth, a sudden cold
A kind heart reaching out to mine
A mean mouth ready to scold
I think I might be in love
The story starts with hate
Where I slowly fell for you
Lost, but I shall wait
To my not-so-oblivious best friendDear best friend,To my not-so-oblivious best friend in Emotional More Like This
It has been exactly a month since my last letter to you. I'm sorry I haven't been talking to you much nowadays. I guess the oblivious self you used to be has changed, significantly. You asked me whether I was OK, and that you would help if I had problems. Perhaps it's just that I don't want to tell you; I don't want to trouble you. I have problems associated with my family and it feels like you wouldn't understand because you're not in my situation. Why does life have to be so shit? Jumping through these hoops may seem fun at the start but now they're just getting tiresome and painful and I can't even emphasise how many tears I've shed for the past year.
Today my mum said she wants to get a divorce with my dad. Fine. I know you guys have unexplained issues with each other but school's beginning in a week. I don't even feel ready now because you bombarded me with all these dejected feelings. What's going to happen? ''I don't know'' would be the most f
A cut for a smile?I hate my life so much.A cut for a smile? in Free Verse More Like This
Everyday, I ponder what I'm
living for, and whether it's
worth the tears, the suffering.
What would it feel like, to
end it all? To feel the blade,
cutting through my skin tinting
it a deep red.
I hate this; I hate my existence.
Crayon SoulmatesDear Stars,Crayon Soulmates in Free Verse More Like This
I have a bone to pick with you. You see, when I was six, I called myself the nowhere girl... and I coloured myself a soulmate. I made him on crumpled sheets, with broken pieces of crayon, on a playground that was too busy wondering whether growing up entailed stealing their mother's cigarettes and their father's dirty magazines (I suppose I was already wise enough to know that growing up meant choosing one of the many ways of breaking yourself in two.)
I hope you remember him, stars...he was important to me (My best friend threw that drawing away on my seventh birthday and told me that someone like me was not supposed to have such dreams.).
He had hair as ebony as deep onyx and a smile that never grew up (Peter Pan would have been proud). He was magic in soul form, and smelled like cinnamon and the earth after it has rained. His eyes rivaled a lions on the best of his youth, his words were story shaped. His skin was an ink coloured canvas of wonder and even in crayon
After Words"I wish you would give it back to me."After Words in Free Verse More Like This
"Why? You'll just break it again."
"It's my heart. I will do whatever the hell I want with it."
"Yeah? Well, you take terrible care of things that are yours."
"Fine. Keep it. I am equal parts concrete and soul anyway."
"You say that, but I'm not entirely sure that you are. I think you're deep, and fragile and broken, and that makes you beautiful."
"Again, concrete and soul. "
"I wish you wouldn't make this so hard."
"So hard? I'm making this easy. You gave me dreams of half feathered swans and a stupid house on an endless beach and a city made of an ocean, and now you're taking it all away. But at least I had them for a while."
"Don't be that way."
"I am going to be awake every single night and wish for a shooting star, so I can wish upon that shooting star to wish thoughts of you away."
"I wish this could be easier on you. You gave me so much and so many too."
"So much of love and so many wishes?"
"No, so much wishing and so many love
FaithI love your belief in God.Faith in Free Verse More Like This
Not because it matches mine.
Because it makes you even more beautiful to me.
You are the dream I always wanted, but never had.
(God likes to surprise me. Well, consider me surprised.)
It makes me want to sleep every single night by your side.
I want to wrap my prayers around you.
I want to press my lips to the segments of your body.
If you asked, I would rest my head besides yours
and dream your nightmares for you.
(You shudder in your sleep. I don't think you know.)
In faith, I'll be your dreamcatcher.
In dreams, let me wish all your nightmares away
When Your Best is Not Good EnoughDon't speak.When Your Best is Not Good Enough in Free Verse More Like This
Don't hold yourself together.
Don't fall apart.
Don't pretend it is all going to be okay.
Don't act like it won't be all right.
Don't touch me.
Don't look away from me.
Don't be so needy.
Don't be so grateful.
Don't act silly.
Don't be so serious.
Don't have so much fun.
Don't be so sullen.
Don't love anyone too much.
Don't be so selfish.
Don't ignore me.
Don't love me too much.
And hope? Hope is just a lie you tell yourself so that tomorrow, you can do it all over again.
Wistful"I am the boy who wants to loveWistful in Free Verse More Like This
your misshapen words,
your broken hearted pieces,
your ink split fingers.
I am the boy who wants to kiss
those scar tattooed arms,
that tear stained face
mend what has been broken.
I am the boy who can
make your heart
sing poetry again."
If only he would say it
like he had
Inside Out"I think I wear my soul inside out."Inside Out in Emotional More Like This
"My soul. It's inside out."
"That's a strange thing to say."
"I have all the symptoms though."
"And what are the symptoms of this disea-"
"It's not a disease."
"All right. What are the symptoms, then?"
"I care too much about all the wrong things, I worry about odd things, my heart breaks too easily and my brain feels a little too asymmetrical to the things that are supposed to be fun."
"You know parties and alcohol and normal things. Like that."
"Nothing. What do you care too much about?"
"Everything. Global warming. The whales. Aliens. Israel. Sarajevo. The Ozone-"
"I get it. Everything that counts and you can do nothing about by yourself."
"You sound cynical."
"You sound paranoid."
"It's just honest. What worries you?"
"The fact that you are too self involved to notice."
"If I disappear."
"You idiot. Ofcourse I will notice if you disappear. I'd not
Seventeen (In Phases)1.Seventeen (In Phases) in Emotional More Like This
It was because her parents had named her for the grandmother who had broken her mother’s heart. The grandmother whose heart was supposed to have melted from her birth and hadn’t.
That was why her mother barely looked at her. That was why she called her ‘girl’.
That was why she liked to pretend she was the quiet woman in the background of an old black and white movie. Because everything here was like an old black and white movie.
[And if she really looked back, her mother had never appreciated the elegance of the 1950s enough.]
It was because she hated surprises. The surprise she got on her sixth birthday when her father left taught her just how a single person had the ability of taking your soul, splitting it in two and wearing it on their breast pocket like a white carnation waiting to die.
That was why when she lifted a book, she looked at the last page first.
That was why her namelessness had become a comfort to her.
That was why sh
I'm Not the Marrying KindI'm not the marrying kind.I'm Not the Marrying Kind in Free Verse More Like This
I have stones in my hair instead of flowers,
And a rosebush of thorns is more poignant to me.
I'm not the marrying kind.
My words aren't pretty or wise,
And I can't sing about anything but a broken heart.
I'm not the marrying kind.
I am the sort of damaged you see in an old recorder,
And the kind of old in an instrument that breaks into a billion pieces at a touch.
I'm not the marrying kind.
Neither neat, nor tidy, nor correct in my behavior,
And yes, I did in fact tell you to fuck yourself.
I'm not the marrying kind.
I do not stay silent in arguments,
And I like to lie compulsively, just to see your face change.
I'm not the marrying kind.
I am not the ideal of any lady, nor her likes,
And I do not allow any man to walk all over me.
No. I am not the marrying kind.
But I do like the idea of a little girl with her mo
The JokeThe first joke is when they tell you to be strong for everybody else after your father leaves for the fourth time.The Joke in Free Verse More Like This
The next joke is when they tell you to stop being sensitive when the children at school choose to hurt you for being differentstrangeodd.
The wrong joke is when they tell you to be quiet after the beating your mother has given you has bloodied your face and you can't see through swelled shut eyes.
The funny joke is when they tell you to shut up when you stand up against the man with lifeless eyes who tried to make you as lifeless as himself.
The unaware joke is when they tell you that you should have defended yourself when three men come at you in a dark alley.
The painful joke is when they tell you you should be grateful that the man who raped you didn't kill you as well.
The angry joke is when they tell you that you are wrong for existing because being gaybilesbiantransexual is a sin.
The ignorant joke is when they tell you to be less provocative with your man when he pu
Constructive Criticism"Tell me what you think."Constructive Criticism in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Of the poem?"
"No, of my face. Yes, the poem."
"I was going to say, because your face is just stupid."
"Very funny. Read."
"What did you think?"
"Why did you write this?"
"I wrote it for you."
"You make me self conscious when you say things like that."
"I'm not worth this you know."
"What does that mean?"
"I am half a girl, and I deserve half a poem."
"That is not true, and you still haven't told me what you really thought about it."
"It's as broken and complex and half hearted as a sad song about the way you feel ink trail between your fingers like it's blood. There is no reason for it, it's the kind of beautiful that is there just for being there. It happened, it's a moment in time forever frozen and to be remembered in a way that candles that burn in holy places should be. It's a forever, all by itself- Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because you believe you deserve half a poem."
"I do. I am too damaged and broken an
Storybook EndingHer ink-stained lips have kissed too many a forgotten page,Storybook Ending in Free Verse More Like This
and phoenix down]
And her Prince Charming has yet to come,
shattering like stars]
So all she can do is gaze out her tower window,
concealing poisoned apples]
Clutch that corroded and timeworn blade,
tearing down castle walls]
Toss her childhood fables to the waltzing of the moon,
[even broken wings
wish for happily ever afters]
[once upon a time
there was a girl who became her own hero.]
Open Heart SurgeryI've got ink throbbing through fissured veins,Open Heart Surgery in Free Verse More Like This
poisoning every atom of my soul.
"Bite your tongue," they say.
How I'd love to chew the damn thing off
and suck down every filthy syllable
just like the rotten bone marrow it is.
They'd all watch as my body spontaneously combusts
and becomes nothing but convoluted karma.
And so I wrote,
Teach me the ways of ripping out a human heart,
and stitching it onto ink-stained parchment."
The answer that came was rasped from a cauterized throat:
"Read your future in the collapsed palm of the stars;
find the abandoned pulse of your lionhearted muse;
steal their conformed scalpel and make it your own."
an apology to anyone who'll listen It begins with a wishan apology to anyone who'll listen in Free Verse More Like This
and ends with a sigh.
I am in love with boys who
don't exist and girls who I sometimes
pretend are myself. Spineless,
spiteful, and one hundred percent
I'm becoming undone.
When I was
younger I thought it
was a sin if
your parents didn't
love each other. Now I
know that it's
just the way this world works.
I need you right now;
to tell me that
gaining four pounds in
three days is typical
to tell me that
living in a dream every
second is perfectly okay
to tell me that
I'm normal, that I'm
still sane, that I'm not
going to close my
eyes one day and never
open them again.
Don't look at me.
I can't remember
the last time I
had no regrets.
are my words poetic enough for you?maybe not.are my words poetic enough for you? in Free Verse More Like This
because i will never be the fire-hearted girl with remedial stardust lips,
dancing with the astral wolves that hunt beneath her moon-kissed skin,
with the courage to plant wilting lilacs into every crippled soul she finds.
but what if they were?
then i would be the ink blots coating the archives of humankind,
the fractured jewel tucked away in a catastrophic dragon's chest,
and the lyric every mismatched bone engraves into their marrow.
Mommy and DaddyMommy, Daddy, are you okay?Mommy and Daddy in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You haven't talked at all today.
Mommy, Daddy, can't you see?
You're really starting to hurt me.
All you do is scream and fight,
and I hear it all throughout the night.
Sometimes I think my eyes will run dry,
yet whenever I do, I just continue to cry.
"She doesn't care about any of this, she'll be fine by tomorrow!"
Daddy, you don't know how much your words fill me with sorrow.
"Can't you just be civilized?! Stop acting like a child, and apologize right now!"
Mommy, please don't make this worse, or I'll run outside and hide in the snow.
Mommy, Daddy, I wish you would just stop everything and be happy again.
I'm hiding under the blankets, writing these words down with a pen.
Mommy, Daddy, can't you see?
You're tearing my heart into one, two, three.
A piece for each of us, a piece of my heart,
the beating has stopped before it could start.
Two sections I wish I could install into both of you,
yet I'm afraid I have not yet found the proper glue.
"It isn't your
Ode to BrasOh bra, dear bra,Ode to Bras in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
such close friends we are.
Never straying by my side,
never going far.
But bra, dear bra,
I must confess it this day:
At times you can be painful,
and my skin tends to flay.
Oh bra, dear bra,
why must you be so conflicting?
Meant to hold up females modestly,
yet force us into awkward itching.
So bra, dear bra,
I am afraid I must ask:
For being such a wondrous garment,
why must you be such an ass?
Oh bra, dear bra,
so tenacious around our chests.
Would it kill your rigid fabric
to alleviate our suffering breasts?
Yes bra, dear bra,
I mean my words today.
Kindly stop your aches and pains
or a dirty game I'll be forced to play.
Oh bra, dear bra,
I wish it this truth to not be so.
If only you were reasonable
and rid us of our feminine woe.
constellations, ambitions, and things in betweeninstead of poetry,constellations, ambitions, and things in between in Free Verse More Like This
i want to live in
draco & orion,
wrapped in nebulae.
oxygen is too
want to breathe in
neither the gods
nor my demons can
stop me —
i will make the universe
How to pretend that you are a writer.Act like you're notHow to pretend that you are a writer. in Free Verse More Like This
okay when you are and
that you are when you're
not. Run barefoot in
the snow. Stand out
in the rain for an hour
and think about anything
and everything you can.
Fall in love with
riddles and things that
aren't real and the
way some stars
shine. Cry when
you realize that life is
just one big sham and write
one hundred cliché poems
about it, and then write one
that you actually mean.
Use profanity. Be the
one fucking introvert
in a room full of
extroverts and scream
shit just for the fun of
it. Swallow every goddamn
metaphor you ever dreamed
of and write them down
with your own blood.
Eulogize your own
misery. Put a crown on
it and let it rule your
heart for six years before
you throw a coup d'etat
but just end up with
your head in a basket.
Ask yourself why
you feel so
empty and when
you forgot how to
laugh and where you
last left your smile and
who you even really are
anymore. Mean every word.
Don't cry at funerals. Cry
yourself to sleep every
other night for
Loneliness:a limbless spider entangled inLoneliness: in Free Verse More Like This
its own web,
writhing and awaiting to
only to be devoured by the fly.
His queen, my muse.Pomegranate seedsHis queen, my muse. in Free Verse More Like This
have the most
bitter of tastes.
She is more
than a myth,
There are more
flames beneath her
skin than in all of
Hades. With every
breath she takes,
winter cries out
She is magenta.
A maiden of
jasper and agate;
lily eyelashes and
locks of supple ivy.
a hyacinth among
weeds and sweet
Love LetterBeloved,Love Letter in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Is it possible to feel too much at times? Can the heart become a weapon, carrying the weight of unspent dreams?
There are rare nights when I seem to ghost dance with the world. I move through it, aware of the physical existence of people, places, things - their connections - and nothing more.They leave no indelible mark; they are a mere whisper on my landscape that echoes vaguely in my conscious mind, a glancing blow that barely registers. Mouths move...words are said, and I comprehend the physical act, the meaning and reality - but it only ripples the surface.
And then there are nights that are quiet electricity and life blooms out of control around me in vibrant and livid color. Every word has a music to it and every nuance of movement shoots through me and pins me to the wall of desire. I am held prisoner by the soft beauty of words not said. I feel the pain of lost tears and memories mumbled in a gentle catechism of failure..
And it is on those nights that I think of you.
BeadsAnd I will weaveBeads in Free Verse More Like This
and string glass beads across your skin.
I will pick them out - azure and turquoise
like the beach at noon
when the sand makes love to the waves.
I will decorate you in ivory and ivy
bands to kiss
your wrists and ankles and
I will teach your tongue wicked fortunes -
stories that only night can
follow and languages
man is too afraid to speak.
You will wear me
silk and water -
the warm rush of magic,
a noise that rumbles fiercely
and grows restless
in the dark.
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.
EnigmaI am the saintEnigma in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You are the sinner
I am the loser
You are the winner
I am the storm
You are the calm
I am the chafe
You are the balm
I wear your thoughts
You eat my soul
I'm all in pieces
You are my whole
I long for peace
You adore war
I am your virgin
You are my whore
I steal emotion
You live for reason
I am too loyal
You thrive on treason
I break your heart
You bleed my mind
You say I'm gentle
You're cruel to be kind
RosesRoses in Free Verse More Like This
They say the last rose
is low born -
a slow moving blossom
that bears a crooked stem.
Pluck it carefully,
to raise the dull dusk
of your dress;
flush it pale and perfect
along your thighs.
You move through the trees
like pelerines at the fair,
carrying it in your hand
the adieu of petals
already inscribed -
to score the thorns
or to leave it behind
for the one
who called you sweetheart.
The DeserterI've wandered far too long tonight.The Deserter in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I'm left adrift, the coward's flight -
an outcast from society.
I close my eyes and dream of thee.
Stripped of my honor and my name;
accused by all, I bear the blame.
This blasted heath from which I flee -
I close my eyes and dream of thee.
The greatest prize for which I strived,
my fellow soldiers gave their lives.
Three white feathers given to me -
I close my eyes and dream of thee.
Branded guilty, without bail,
handcuffed in irons, cast in gaol-
no longer shall I wander free.
I close my eyes and dream of thee
And after sundown, cut me loose,
an offering to the hangman's noose.
If there's a God, he'll hear my plea -
I close my eyes and dream of thee
WinterA dream of silver coins and gossamerWinter in Free Verse More Like This
of frankincense and sacred myrrh
tugging, gently tugging at the coverlet
the draperies drawn,
the candles lit.
Winter's wizened face and beard sent packing
by the blazing willow log
a'crackling, gently crackling in the fireplace
the shivered wind
leads on apace
These dreams to warm us lingering like a balm,
and cider mulled with cardamom
bubbling, gently bubbling in a bowl
blots out the wind
and shuns the cold.
SirensThey run when they hear sirens -Sirens in Free Verse More Like This
it's all they know.
They hide under bridges
and fire escapes,
like their fathers
and their fathers' fathers.
They know the sight
and sound of thick
black boots in hallways
and the anger of an engine
unwinding in the streets.
They remember how unfriendly
four a.m. can be,
hunching behind fences
that wait with open jaws.
And they remember
how sour fear actually tastes
when it lingers
in the back
of the throat.
Why Poets DrinkChrist,Why Poets Drink in Free Verse More Like This
there is a reason poets drink.
Abstention feels bad -
infertile and stuffed, swollen.
It does not sell books
or win those brass
angels on ribbons.
Tonight my lover is bourbon,
distilled in some soul
south of Carolina.
It plays tricks with colors
and the sounds on my tongue.
It grows words where
none have loitered for weeks
and handfasts me to
the rest of the world.
It is ransom -
a jest of seasons
and my bone idle brain