In a Little Girl's MindThere sits the girl with the things in her eyes
Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies
Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams
Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams
Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins
Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins
Little red houses on roads left to fade
Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade
Blood pouring out as she cries her own name
Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame
She could have stopped it and left it behind
All of these things in her troubled young mind
She could have saved them if she dared to try
Rather, though, she left herself there to die.
Now, others watch as she sits on the ground
Keeping their distance and letting her drown
In her own worries and things she won't tell
Waiting for her mind to kill her as well…
Tired, Exhausted, DrainedTired, Exhausted, Drained:Tired, Exhausted, Drained in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I am bloody exhausted! Drained to the core of my soul.
I wake up every morning with bags; burning ever deeper into my eyes.
Sunken masses of flesh, reminding me that the dreamscape -
One in which I sought refuge; is now buried where it lies.
Yet still I force myself to trudge through this wilderness.
Forever caught in a moon drenched, delusory twilight.
An endless cycle of failure and renewed hope;
Giving rise to the very stubbornness that defines me.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 5th February 2013
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
These Words Aren't PrettyThese Words Aren't Pretty:These Words Aren't Pretty in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
My verses are ugly and I admit to the fact
I can't use pretty language when I'm working with rap
Because the things that I write, are just the things that I feel
I ain't an Edgar Allan Poe or a Danielle Steel
And I'll be honest with you, I've got an envy inside
Because some poets got a flow that's as smooth as the tide
I read some stuff that they write, it's just so dope I ignite
Burning shame and my anger at the beautiful sight
And like birds of a feather, they're flocking together
These poets are the Gods and I'm nailed by the weather
But as the rain pours down, lightning resound;
I try to write pretty words but my lips remain bound
So deeply silenced by fear - the darkness I hear,
Afraid to be unloved by the ones I hold dear
I've hit the limit of time; my lyrical crime
These words that I've lived are just turning to grime.
So I wish I had their talent; just a sliver of that
If their skill was a mountain then I've broken my back
It's like t
These Tears Would Come:These Tears Would Come:These Tears Would Come: in Free Verse More Like This
If my tears could tell a story of two -
What would they have to say about you?
Of a boy who spent his whole life seeking
And a girl who found it in the arms of another…
Would they tell us of laughter? Beneath a starlit sky,
Or of harsh words exchanged on bitter nights.
Would they speak of moments, so beautifully captured;
To be enjoyed in memory, like a perfect wine.
Or perhaps they would tell us of an untampered truth:
Of the lonely nights spent longing, for an Eden lost.
Captivated, habituated, to this lonely habit of you;
For her alone, these tears would come.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 31st march 2013
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
The Way We LiveThe Way We Live:The Way We Live in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
We all have our own little struggles;
Pushing on forward as the tragedies double.
A life led with pain and exhaustion too immense,
I'm pushing down walls as my muscles go tense.
But these are the words that you'll never hear me spit.
I'd never say I'm 'giving up' or if I should 'quit'.
I'm really freaking stupid so just tell it to my face,
And even then I'd never give up the right to race.
I'm like a lone arrow drawn and shot from a bow,
Blustered by the winds of all the things I don't know.
I'd never figure out if I'd reach the final mark,
But I know that I'd never lose my glowing inner spark.
And that's all it takes just to keep this body going.
With calloused hands in this ocean I'm still rowing
Searching for some land out amidst a sea of black;
A wandering gypsy bearing burdens on his back.
- Chen Yuan Wen, 14th January 2013
The Flower of EvilThe Flower of Evil:The Flower of Evil in Free Verse More Like This
Evil is but a blooming flower,
It is born from a humble seed
And grows to corrupt a forest.
To watch its infection spread;
To be a part of its existence...
I can think of no better prospect,
Indeed one might baulk at the idea,
Of seeing millions suffer.
To watch worlds scream and writhe;
To see them suffer and die, with living eyes...
Yet there is a mysterious beauty in such devastation,
Fear that shakes me to my very core;
Is transfigured into a twisted pleasure:
As I am frightened, so too am I aroused.
I am addicted to the ephemeral sensation;
To the borderline between rapture and rupture.
To see my own blood soaking from splitting wounds;
Leaves me maddened amongst these blooming flowers
-Chen Yuan Wen, 1st May 2013
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!"
She Dances With FireShe dances with fire, a dragon in tow.She Dances With Fire in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Twirling with flames; graceful and slow
She dances tonight, in a city of ash.
Her feet leaving footprints, where the sand will splash.
Quietly mourning, as time goes by;
Where once she beheld a home in her eyes...
Yet naught but the barest of bones remain,
And so she dances, to soothe the pain.
The PoetThe Poet:The Poet in Free Verse More Like This
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
I Love You, DaddyDaddy, please don't touch me.I Love You, Daddy in Free Verse More Like This
It doesn't feel good.
It makes me feel..
Daddy, please don't hit me.
I didn't mean to disappoint you.
When you hit me, it makes me feel...
Daddy, please don't hurt her.
Mommy didn't do anything.
When you hit her, it makes me feel..
Daddy, please don't say you love me.
I know you're lying.
When you say you still want me, it makes me feel...
Daddy, please stop screaming at her.
You already killed her.
When you scream at her, it makes me feel..
Daddy, stay there.
Let me sink the knife into your throat.
When you bleed, it makes me feel..
Daddy, aren't you happy now?
As you lie there, lifeless.
I'm only following your footsteps.
This makes me feel...
Daddy, please listen.
I know you can't hear me, but...
I still love you.
The same way you always loved me.
And it makes me feel...
It makes me feel..
The Face At The DoorThe face at the door is a demon, a godThe Face At The Door in Free Verse More Like This
He smiles through stitches, his stare rather odd
The face at the door is a cruel, silent being
Yet, people are calm, and the children aren't fleeing
Quiet yourself, for you're the only one
Crying for help at the point of a gun
Learn how to fly, rather, learn how to fall,
The face at the door... well... there's no face at all.
Words on the WallThe sun melted into the glamorous skyWords on the Wall in Free Verse More Like This
The moon stood there, hidden by sweet lullabies.
But mommy was crying, her day had been hard
The tears in her eyes twinkled just like the stars.
Her face wasn't happy like it should have been
And though she was saddened, she forcefully grinned.
I wanted to see Mommy smile through it all...
I painted a picture on her bedroom walls.
I told her to look, just to come in and see
But Mommy was angry... she wasn't happy.
She threw me down hard on the cold wooden floor
Then picked me up, slamming my head on the door.
She yelled and she screamed, then she hit me once more
She slapped me till I couldn't see anymore.
My heart then stopped beating, my laugh went unheard
Then Mommy got up without saying a word.
She looked at the walls splattered with my young blood
Then fell to the ground in her tears with a thud.
She looked at my face, then she looked all around
Then wrote on the walls with the first thing she found.
Then, after she finished, she wanted self h
SchizophreniaShh.Schizophrenia in Free Verse More Like This
Look behind you.
"Are you okay?"
Shapes, forms, bodies, animals, plants
Shifting, moving, being
"What's wrong with you?"
You're a freak.
No one wants you.
You should kill yourself, let them out of their misery
Or we'll do the job for you.
"They're fake, you know."
No they're not.
"What are you doing?"
This is how I live.
Save me, from the monsters, the shadows
"What can I do?"
You can stop.
You can stop being ignorant
Good Enough... for YOU.As I sit here cradling the blade in my handsGood Enough... for YOU. in Free Verse More Like This
Treasuring the moments I wish that I had
I can't stop growing more lost and confused
I can't stop thinking... am I good enough for you?
As I sit here, wrapping the rope around my neck
No one will understand a meaning so complex
I simply can't stop thinking about it somehow
Thinking, am I good enough for you now?
As I sit here, pulling the trigger on the gun
I think, maybe I was never meant for "the one"...
goes the bullet.
For when I think it through...
I really won't ever be good enough for you.
Little Red HousesLittle red house on the corner left to fadeLittle Red Houses in Free Verse More Like This
Tire swing swaying above a sparkling blade
Silver gown, just for the hour
Starts out sweet then you taste the sour
A little girl's heart doesn't last for long
When a little girl gone right goes horribly wrong
One little fall means blood on the breeze
Little red house with a ghost to please.
And Daddy always lied.My legs are covered in bruisesAnd Daddy always lied. in Free Verse More Like This
And I have a scar by my left eye.
I’m not allowed to smile, though
And I’m not allowed to cry.
I think my right arm’s broken
But shh, don’t tell my dad.
He doesn’t like to worry bout me
When he’s already mad.
I have a burn on my left wrist
From when he pushed my arm
Against the stove, the hot, hot stove
And did a bit of harm.
I have a bear, a teddy bear.
He doesn’t have a name.
He makes me better every time
I’m feeling hurt and shame.
Today, my dad came home kind of late
A beer still in his hand.
I closed my eyes and waited.
He screamed, he shouted, and…
Well, my name is Mary Starr
And this is how I died.
But daddy always loved me.
And daddy always lied.
I am not a stereotypeSlide the blade across your wrist.I am not a stereotype in Free Verse More Like This
"Doesn't it hurt?"
I can't feel anything.
Punch your own stomach.
Does it hurt yet?
"Why do you do that?"
The pain makes me feel alive.
"I don't know."
"What's wrong with you?"
I'm dead inside.
I'm just depressed.
Stare at your arms.
"What are you doing?"
I just have low self esteem.
I'm just human.
I'm just me.
AsylumWho are you?Asylum in Free Verse More Like This
Where are you?
What... are you?
The blinding white walls
Closing in on you
Who are you?
Certainly not that
happy little girl
jumping through fairy tales
as a sunset paints the silver sky.
Where are you?
Definitely not where
you'd want to be.
What are you?
Blood, scars, wounds.
All you see are shadows
In a room of white walls...
.you are dead and buried. in Free Verse More Like This
six feet under yourself,
still feeling the way you did
when you were seventeen
and when you bathe, you still
keep your head under the
water, wrists upturned, red
eyes open, trying to drown yourself
.and i stopped killing spiders. in Free Verse More Like This
when i realized that we are both just trying
to make our way in the world
and he hasn't got a clue
how he ended up on my bathroom floor
and i can turn out the lights to
stop the moths from killing themselves
but i can't turn off my brain and
stop myself from doing the same
.she told me i had soft palms,. in Personal More Like This
i said yeah but i've got a hard
heart, because when
i was young i got given
two goldfish, and one day the
big ate the little
and that's when i learnt i'd
be fucked by the world, it would
do the same thing to me too
(i heard the language of evil and i started to speak it, saw the actions of evil and i started to be it)
.i wanted to bathe. in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
in fire; for the amber tongues
to lick me clean, pure
.you're afraid. in Free Verse More Like This
to let anyone
stoke the fire
in your chest
you will burn
.pour love all. in Free Verse More Like This
over, then strike
the fire will
burn itself out,
but the ruins
.you’ve got. in Free Verse More Like This
.sometimes. in Free Verse More Like This
in my head
curl up in
the beat of
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;
A lion among sheep.There are ghosts in my bloodstreamA lion among sheep. in Free Verse More Like This
kissing concrete cells &
the bedroom eyes of nerve endings.
( foreign words
engraved into my marrow, birds in my chest
& wars not yet fought between my hips. )
I've taken myself apart every night
since I learned how to swallow a pen
limb by steady limb.
Passed around by grabby hands,
a sold, & borrowed daughter;
I am a lion among sheep,
drunk on life & ink.
It's all about her,-I had never wished to know the moon,It's all about her, in Free Verse More Like This
or the burning gaze of her lover.
I am merely a forest of silences,
old dogwoods & untamed hair.
-But, I made a promise
to a bone collector once.
He could have my spine,
my kneecaps, &
one flowered rib,
wrapped & bowed-up
like a present
-if he could fall in love
with things that slip through his fingers:
-“It would be a sin to love you,
my dear sweet wolf;
you will always cry for the moon.”
I want to forget names,& faces,I want to forget names, in Free Verse More Like This
I want to forget their veins,
fingerprints forever burned into my eyelids;
wrists I can't look at
without longing to tear apart.
Spine full, and spiteful:
I want to cry
roses in my midnight tea
for these star collapsed lungs.
I want to cry for her
& for me.
she wont allow me the courtesy.
Please, forgive me.Like lies, you saidPlease, forgive me. in Free Verse More Like This
I make breathing the cosmos
through rose colored lungs
look easy- vertebrae stretched
toward the moon.
& I'm hanging my bones
out to dry, carving Saturn's
rings into my wrists- my
star burst ankles.
I swore then I'd keep my
black tongued poetry
& uprooted limbs far,
far away from you.
But, like lies, galaxies,
& night fevers, you
are the destination
on my star map skin.
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.
RelapseIt’s like countingRelapse in Free Verse More Like This
along your limbs -
remembering a time
‘just one more’
made you feel better.
- & you’re sitting there
Draco, stuck in limbo
always looks like he’s
Milky Waymy body is a road mapMilky Way in Free Verse More Like This
of hazard signs
but on the days
when the mirror
is nice to me,
i can hear
like little racing
beneath my skin:
you are not worthless.
you are strong.
your ribcage has a meaning-
these bruises are
ste ti & you are the Milky Way.
Therapists, I don't like their taste.i.Therapists, I don't like their taste. in Free Verse More Like This
in 7th grade
i didn’t know depression
until she told me her name,
carving forever scratches
along my limbs like
little love notes on the bark
of a tree.
she stole my rings
and left me hollow.
i had only ever met anxiety
in passing, until one day
he handed me power and told me
to hurt someone else with it.
with an uncontrollable
quivering in my fingers,
he whispered, “ to survive,
you must learn quickly.”
as i shoved the bevel of a needle
into a strangers arm.
so, if a therapist
could talk away my scars
like iodine disinfects,
guide the ships
through the storm of my mind
like a lighthouse-
instead of pills,
if a therapist could
give me the strength
i might just
take my chances.
Show me what the stars look like tonight.I’ve fallen in love with wars & darkness.Show me what the stars look like tonight. in Free Verse More Like This
The kind of darkness said to have made
shadow monsters of seen-too-much eyes
& the kind of war lands made of
desecrated, dandelion wrists.
I am the wind, the morphine pump
& I’ve carved my bones into stars.
I wear them around my neck
like outward sun marrow
warming my carotid pulse.
These little glow-in-the-dark blankets
aren’t enough to stifle the sounds;
but my anatomy never seemed to fit
together the right way anyway.
you call me an angelyou call me an angelyou call me an angel in Free Verse More Like This
in spite of the bruises left on the fronts of my knees
stains of sin left on my skin;
the knots in my back,
you liken to the wings soon to burst from my shoulders
&tell me you can feel no sadness
when looking at my face-
eyes you analyse
into paints of the colour wheel,
several shades i have yet to see;
despite its crooked nature
thinning enamel from my sickness-
you still find me amongst the heavens.
as this once,
i kissed you to shut you up.
my skin is removing itself after my clothes
in the winter,
too unlike the white night of russian summers.
i kissed you &it was wet because i was crying
&every time our lips parted
another sob stuttered its way through the gap.
you heard what words i couldn't swallow,
the ones straining to pass over my tongue
yet drowned upon existence.
you listen to me until i lose my headstrong aim
to starve back to bones,
to see the angel wings i've lost in my skin
you touch &feel are there;
preemptive breakup poemif anyone ever tells you your sadness isn't physical,preemptive breakup poem in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
show them the ache in your bones,
the raw skin on your arms or wrists or hips or thighs,
the imprint of your foetal body on your mattress from the days you couldn't bear to leave.
and you see this?
this is what hurt looks like.
i want you to look closer, lean in a little until you can feel the sadness on my breath
and i want you to watch my eyes. count how often they blink and count how many of them are forcing back words i still can never say.
i don't want you to miss a second of how you make me feel.
i want to be what keeps you up at night
i want to be the reason you can't eat
or laugh at your favourite tv programs
i want to be the reason
you walk with your eyes on the pavement
because too many things
remind you of me
i want you to feel the soreness of a heart unloved
loudly enough that the beating is mute and slow
loudly enough that you keep your hands in your pockets
when you move through the city so you don't touch any
the thing is i wish i were kidding but man,the sky fell when you left.the thing is i wish i were kidding but man, in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i am my motheri am my mother.i am my mother in Free Verse More Like This
i carry empty bottles
for every feeling
i never wanted;
they clatter in my bag
and where they are tied
on my wrists and ankles.
the glass glitters
until dulled by the weights
and dim light of the heavy feelings
that fill them.
i am my mother.
i have felt things
on my skin i have tried
to cut away to no avail,
i have tried to smile
until it hurts my god it hurts
and my bones are fire
but you think i'm okay so i'm okay
i am my mother
because i will never be angry
when others smudge the mud
from their feet onto me,
i will never show a scowl or reddened face
for being treated like wasted space.
i will take every jibe with a nod
and half smile,
lips closed over broken teeth
to prevent the possibility of baring them,
presenting a threat,
projecting confidence instead of regret.
i will drag my weighty bottles
and break myself into shards
that cut me with every move
before i dare let them crack.
(mother, do not worry
i am fine.)
man at the cafehe's sitting there at the cafeman at the cafe in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
sandwich on thick white bread
and straggling beansprouts
and i hate the look in his eye.
he is by himself
so he's thinking
and his hat is tilted over his face
so he's in shadow
and he won't look up
from his sandwich
so i am actively watching him.
i know he is sad.
i know he is waiting for a girl
to show up,
or maybe he's just thinking of one,
maybe he's just wishing
she were here
because when she's not,
maybe he's never seen her,
but his heart knows she's out there
and his soul can't sleep
until he's found her.
maybe he thinks he knows her,
and maybe she's an ocean away.
maybe he thinks the longer
he stares at the dangling beansprouts,
the sooner she can be
by his side.
and because maybe he knows her,
he won't look for anyone else
and that hat tipped low over his brow
keeps it so his eyes are really
only for her.
if alice in wonderland was set in 2012,i might cut my hair if it didn't remind me of you,if alice in wonderland was set in 2012, in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
but just like the fade from september into the pits of october,
i'm not alice, this isn't wonderland, but i am just as surrounded by things that yell,
"eat me! drink me!" and they don't say it but i know they'll all make me bigger,
sadder, fatter, too big to fit into a house, my arms my legs come shooting out,
everything i feel is just too loud-
i should be better than i am.
i should be taking the world by the shoulders, shaking back its shoulders because i am a storm, i am a force of nature and you will take notice-
but my winds are quiet. my rain is sad.
i'm too afraid to swell up in full vigor,
to take what is mine in case it's taken from me again,
i will never forget what you did- in camera flash moments, in sharp moments-
to leave me broken.
there are some cuts that never close up.
there are some things that never get spoken.
and there are some things yo
I haven't felt this hopeless in awhiledo my screamsI haven't felt this hopeless in awhile in Free Verse More Like This
turn to white noise,
do they get lost
in the sea?
I am aching
I am black bruises
beneath sore bones);
the storm is coming,
and all the rain in the world
could not extinguish me.
I am lighting myself on fire,
and you cannot hear me.
I do not deal in subtleties,
and you can see my scars
(raised like sidewalks)
from a mile away.
a safe distance.
how can my body
(no pain like this body)
be so weighted down
(I am drowning even now)
when I know
that I am so empty?
(I am calling loudly
out to the void;
answer me back.)
beauty"you're beautiful."beauty in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"why don't you understand what i'm saying? you're beautiful."
"because girls tell me it all the time."
"yeah, but they don't mean it like i do."
"your face is beautiful, i'll give you that. sad puppy eyes, birds-in-flight lips, rocker-sloppy floppy hair. but your heart --"
"no, let me finish. your heart is so much more. you could fit the world inside there and feel it ache. that's what your pulse is. it's not blood, no ventricle contraction or atrium expansion, it's love. it's the ache of the world in your chest. that's why you're beautiful."
"why does it hurt so much?"
"because love hurts. and that's why we love. to hurt for others."
"to hurt for, or to just hurt others?"
"i don't want this."
"nobody does. everybody does."
"my heart isn't mine anymore, it's --"
"-- everybody else's. i know."
"what's wrong with me?"
"you're more beautiful than anyone in the world, that's what's wrong with you."
"that's a problem?
i have the right not to give excuses or reasonsi am not going toi have the right not to give excuses or reasons in Scraps More Like This
i am no ocean tide,
ebbing and flowing
over the sands of us,
and your approval-
of what i am
is not needed.
you do not
need to know
why i am hurt,
why we do not speak,
or why i still love you.
you do not
need to understand
(the way the moon
does its stars)
why i feel and ache
and show this on
my skin and bone.
of keeping you away,
of creating distance
more than the miles
the power i hold
between my teeth
and i burrow
like scarab beetles in the sand
i cannot wait
and not feel
breathe deepbreathe deep.breathe deep in Free Verse More Like This
breathe it shallowly if you need to,
if filling your lungs to bursting
is too much,
but breathe the depth-
of tree roots
and ethnic roots
and the roots planted by love.
and the orgiastic fullness
it gives the empty shell
you try so hard to stuff
but nothing sticks;
because deep is star-soaked
desperate with creeping beauty
like attar and trellis
and the june moon.
this is how you keep her.
this is how you say,
this is our permanent address.
this is how you say i love you
with something more than words.
MaybeJust give me one dream that isn't see-through.Maybe in Free Verse More Like This
One substantiated claim to reality,
that I might hold onto life with.
Every quivering cell, mid-osmosis, begs you
for a shred of dignity with my tea.
Just one chance for something heavy,
something hard and room temperature. Real.
I don't want to look through my day dreams
and see someone else's face there.
I don't want to dream of those people
who may make, or break me, in the future tense.
I am tired of milky white and reflective black.
It is time for a life of colour and hope -
and not looking back to see if the past
matches up with the jigsaw map to the end game.
I want to be in the game, participating,
feeling, like I might make it there one day.
Just give me something, that I can hold onto;
something harder to see through than a whisper
of that voice in the back of my mind that says
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,
You'll Never DieHear me read it!You'll Never Die in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They say that if a writer falls in love with you then you never really die.
Instead your body is laid out in its funerial shrouds and moulds are made. Soft impressions of you to be pressed onto the blank faces of future loves.
Every time I write of taking comfort in a safe place in a storm, it will be your forearm. Every half-made smile will be on your lips, and every touch will be constructed from the residue beneath your fingernails.
When I metaphise of trees' blood, the leaves that give the energy so that a willow can provide shade for those in need, it will be your blood, it will be your light drenched kisses.
Every tear on every face will taste of the sweat that you put into keeping me happy. Every soaring song of love will be played through your windpipe, your trachea my instrument of choice.
For every time that a hero has the strength to walk on, I will use your feet. I will weld them to my own and walk a mile. Wal
The PlaylistA group of us lying on the floorThe Playlist in Free Verse More Like This
in a too-small apartment
that can’t hold a fraction of our disorders
syndromes and symptoms
tucked under the kitchen sink
and in between self help books
and in the pages of love poetry
only half meant.
A group of us lying on the floor
wishing we could see the stars.
but thats not how the architecture
has been set up for us
we have to live our lives blinkered
from the celestial
but at least we have each other.
A group of us lying on the floor
letting music replace our immune systems
not caring if a misspent lyric saves us,
not caring if a dropped note kills us
we don’t care about anything but the floor,
these walls, these chains,
that sound so familiar in an acoustic’s voice.
A group of us lying on the floor
caring about nothing but the ceiling
thats blocking out the light.
The GhostAlright, I'll bite.The Ghost in Free Verse More Like This
I'll squirm and fold myself over
as a swelling of dough
pats down into itself;
hunkering down for the night.
I know when to fold
and when to hold; so I'll wait.
Wait while you leave me
packing up the uncomfortable
furniture in my mind.
I'll bubble wrap my dreams
and hold my breath in storage
and leave myself hollow
with only the echo of us inside.
You have me on the hook
So it's alright to let me wriggle
and slip through the carrion;
the wrecked remains of
my maggotous life.
I can't help but drop my head,
lose my pride, wait for death.
Maybe heads will roll
onto happily waiting Guillotine
and depart me from my troubles.
Until then I remain
the pestilent, petulant skeleton
rapping its ivory against the door
- Let me out of your closet.
I don't want to be
a secret that you hide from yourself
in the royal tower in your head;
a delusion, or the girlfriend
of only one personality.
I don't want to drape my cerements here
and let them stick to your floor.
If I must die, le
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.
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
CradlingI lay my swan heartCradling in Free Verse More Like This
in a nest of feather fluff;
sanguine, sweet and soft.
I lay my swan heart
in a frame not strong enough
to keep my love aloft.
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.
PorcelainDiane’s hand crashed hard into the porcelain as her knees hit the ground in front of her perfectly white toilet. She had over done it, she realised. She retched again and vomited into the bowl trying not to let the acrid smell fill her lungs because that smell often made her vomit again. She had been feeling rough for a couple of days but had decided to distract herself by cleaning, the kitchen was done but when it came to bleaching the bathroom the enclosed space made the cloying scent had seemed magnified somehow and it had stuck to the back of her throat until she had coughed it out. She was sick.Porcelain in Short Stories More Like This
She was sick and she hated to be sick. She pulled the plastic toilet seat down and rested her arm on it so she could lay her cheek against her wrist. She felt the tears streaking over her hand and it tickled unpleasantly, but she was exhausted from the exertion of being so drastically unwell, so she did not move.
Eventually she knew she would have to get up. Warren would be home soon
The Great PoetIf you are the great poet as you say,The Great Poet in Free Verse More Like This
Rhyme yourself a key or make the bars fray
If you are the great poet as you speak,
Turn us to ash, make us truly weak
If you are the great poet as you so boldly tell,
Just simply write yourself free from this hell!
“No,” said the poet,
“Why is that?,” we growled in sync
“Well, you forgot to give me some paper and ink”
Collection 1Writer’s BlockCollection 1 in Free Verse More Like This
Time to write,
Rhyme on rhyme,
Without earning a single dime
Crap, crap, crap!
This happens all the time!
Why hello dear!
It does appear,
That you have a twin,
That small, silvery, mirror
Oh neighbor, have you heard the word?
That little blonde girl broke the mayor’s urn!
For that she must be a witch!
And for that, she will burn
Leave Us Be
Just leave me be
It’s not that hard
I send a prayer to the trees
And the stars
Let us be free,
And who we want to be,
And what we want to be,
And where we want to be,
Not just do whatever we can, to please ‘The Man’
Just leave us be
And just let us finally be
Massacres in the jungle,
Massacres in the woods,
Massacres in the desert,
With the culprits wearing white hoods
Massacres in secret,
There was once a field in Cambodia
Where nothing but the body-count had grow
When A Poet DiesWhen a poet diesWhen A Poet Dies in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
All his work transforms
The ink turns to coal
Faster than fossils at best
The paper goes back to it's mother tree
And all his work continues to manifest
How can this be?
When a poet dies
No one really knows
Until a hundred years later
When all his children are grown
And people start to realize this
And start to say ‘you shall be missed’
But it’s far too late
Oh, it’s far too late
Leaping from the page
Of the poet that they revered as their god
They keep praying,
And praying for him to return
But he won’t be coming home
Why won’t he come home?
When a poet dies
All his work transforms
The ink turns to coal
Faster than fossils at best
The paper goes back to it’s mama tree
And all his work continues to manifest
How can this be?
How can this be...?
Bang-Up BostonBoom!Bang-Up Boston in Free Verse More Like This
What was that? The signal gun sounding that someone’s won?
The sound of another marathon that’s over and done?
No. It’s not.
Flags from all over falling down,
Hundreds of innocent bystanders dropping to the ground
Just like little flies
All for what? For some sick creep’s twisted dream,
For a bunch of thugs who’re just itchin’ to make us fall at the seam?
“Who did this?! Who did this?!”
The question on everyone’s mind, the question that everyone’s asking
“I don’t know!”
The enraging ‘answer’ that everyone’s using, because they’re just as clueless as everyone else,
But yet, the people still scream
“Who did this?! Who did this?!”
48, 49, then 100 plus
The number of the people’s limp but alive bodies piling up by the second
The message remains unclear, but still it beckons,
The Soul Is Like WaterThe Soul is like water,The Soul Is Like Water in Free Verse More Like This
it fills up your entire being to the brim.
is made just to keep it from spilling out,
so the next life may recieve it as full as the last.
Dreary EyesDreary eyesDreary Eyes in Free Verse More Like This
Nothing at ease
Trying to hope
But ending up not
Trying to cope
But ending up caught
The night pitch black
A hairline crack
Fell through thin ice
Paid the price
KatynIn the forest, beneath the treesKatyn in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Another man falls to his knees
No headstones or crosses on the graves
For that's "reserved for the brave"
But privileged to be buried with many
The body count far over twenty...
Gagged, tied, bound
They dare not utter a sound
For if they try,
Just close your eyes,
And wait for the ‘bang!’
One bullet through the head,
One more falls down dead
Rinse, reload, repeat
To the streets
In the forest, beneath the trees
Another man falls to his knees...
“Make sure no words get out
To the streets...”