Open Heart SurgeryI've got ink throbbing through fissured veins,
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."
AbsenceShe used to lie awake all nightAbsence in Free Verse More Like This
consuming letters with voracity;
it was the utopian lair she created
to slip away from the turbulent world.
Only too soon she learned
that you can't always hide
within parchment crevices.
(reality always finds you)
Even now, when she yearns to fall between printed canyons,
she can't help but curse those passive and lethargic days;
"It's too damn easy to fall in love with words on a page."
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.
pretty little poet fingersfabricated gods rest between thepretty little poet fingers in Free Verse More Like This
languid crevices of
her fingertips, scribbling profanities
all over her skin.
she's just mismatched bones
& blue bruises, telling of forbidden
love through archaic letters.
a tongue made for
wanderlust, & eyes made
for the stars,
even the devil fears her.
WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasminesWhisper in Free Verse More Like This
and stardust mountains of silver and —
Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...
Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.
I want to write
skinwalkershe was a vicious prion,skinwalker in Free Verse More Like This
anomalous & infectious—
my fractured mind was the
perfectly unsuspecting host.
i was so ashamed of life
& you had all the answers.
"don't let me go,"
she hissed each night,
coating my flesh in a
(it was just too damn easy
to grasp your viral hands.)
i know my ribcage is almost on empty
& my heart is converting to toxic waste,
but i still have a feverish serum in my veins
& a voice not yet conquered by broken bones.
your plague of malevolence
shall never govern me again.
-My mind- in Free Verse More Like This
s h u t u p.
Too many "fuck you's"
that morph into
drip off this
Try and make it better. Fail. Try again. Break down.
So many faults
that seem to just
turn me into someone
Look into the mirror. See nothing but a clone. Fabrication. No longer me.
I stare and want
to break that glass
so that I can also
b r e a k.
Try and say something. Turns into nothing but rage. Take it out on you.
This shattered heart
only wants to make it
and become one again.
"I want to hate you."
"But I can't."
"So I hate me instead."
"But why won't this stop?"
"Why can't you make it stop?"
"...it's not my fault."
Say what you want to say. Honest brutality.
"H E L P M E"
It's time for me to
s h u t u p.
lowercasei carve insignificant poetry into my tonguelowercase in Free Verse More Like This
and hope the world will pardon the lack of
bated silence, for i write in nothing but
despondent screams and uppercase;
i've forgotten how to let everything go
and i'm tired of my incessant howling,
because it seems to me that the quiet
words are the ones that are the most
AimlessSpring forgot how to begin anew,Aimless in Free Verse More Like This
so Winter stole her amnesic heart and tossed it to the wolves.
"Devour me," the stars seemed to beg;
so Gravity plunged them into the ocean's nebulous depths.
These lips no longer offer hymns up to fallen gods—
so Fate sacrificed herself for the chance to be reborn.
Last night,I broke every bone in my bodyLast night, in Free Verse More Like This
so I could have a reason to drown
in the isolated ocean inside me.
when my dilapidated lungs finally caved in,
I swam ashore and crawled across the polluted sand.
Only glass-edged skin
and salt-licked eyelashes
can help me now.
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.]
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.
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.
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.
9729 kilometers away, to be exact.i have these bones like flowers-9729 kilometers away, to be exact. in Free Verse More Like This
fragile and finely plucked,
these lily stargazers
are kissing ocean beds,
making love to sirens
for a taste of her
i want to tape maps to my limbs-
throw caution to the wind
as i gather up
every love letter receipt,
from every false attempt
i ever wrote her
& forget for just a moment
that even still
she does not love me.
The rule of nines.I know more about half-moon palmsThe rule of nines. in Free Verse More Like This
than most know about
the kind that beg dandelion child,
I know about forged castle ribs & broken homes.
Myths that are half fact & imaginary friend
turned bogieman -
Fangs that tear clear through ice-bone hearts
like they are nothing but pretty paper
to be folded over, again & again & again
by the hands of quivering youths:
Icarus, the reincarnated
sky conqueror searching for warmth.
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.
Muse:She corrodes star shapes intoMuse: in Free Verse More Like This
the hearts of sleeping poets,
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.”
to the starsI’ve got this arrowto the stars in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
curled around my finger
like Apollo’s heart
& your nicknames
engraved on the inside
of my lungs.
I don’t want to write
pretty little stanzas
or pick at the seams
of your poetry
like some deadbeat
psychology major -
I want to
all over everything;
shoot down your moon
& wear her
like a charm
around ink stained
I want to
to the stars,
& leave you there.
You do not whore around,You spend your nightsYou do not whore around, in Free Verse More Like This
for Apollo’s robes.
You’re as hot
as New Orleans
in mid-July, and
as her gumbo.
But, he is light-years
away and your fingers
ache with tired
a disaster in
Even if it fucking hurts,
you can still taste
his heat on your tongue.
Gods be damned,
you’re a butterfly-
( even if mounted
to a bed. )
you will find yourself
and fly away.
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!"
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
Alone but AliveAlone but Alive:Alone but Alive in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Oh here I am standing,
A lost soul is landing.
The coldest December,
Can you still remember?
Do you even hear me?
There's no one around me!
Oh shadow that I see,
The void right behind me.
Yet still I am breathing;
Yet still I am feeling.
The coldest sensation,
Oh worthless creation!
Are you still crying?
Oh why are you lying - abandoned and cold
Cold like what was left of soul,
Made of all the life you stole.
Walk divine but made of sin,
Worm of hatred squrim within.
Sin of lust and sin of pride,
Lash the tongue that last has lied.
Yours was silver with a promise,
Kiss of death and then you vomit.
Burning bile of ugly treason,
No one else can know the reason.
Left a soul behind to burn;
You are the reason I have turned...
On this cold and endless night...
When I'm finally pierced by the light...
And I awaken from this hell...
ALONE - BUT ALIVE!
Alive and again oh do I dare?
To give this heart and to lay it bare.
When heaven cast its fate
We Poets Are Frustrated...We Poets Are Frustrated...We Poets Are Frustrated... in Free Verse More Like This
I am sure that you have all experienced this feeling:
A masterpiece eclipsed by the baying of a brat!
A raucous rhyme, so emotionally raw;
Shadowed by a child's melancholia...
Alone in the darkness, you lick your lips and growl.
Your anger, so evidently understandable; yet you forget your own abilities!
In despair, my dearest sibling, you have forgotten — yourself
Why fear an obstacle so easily overcome?
Why shred your works with such heavy tears?
Have you forgotten that we are the original craftsman?
Our tongues birthed as our chisels and axe!
We need only take these simple themes
And corrupt them with all our twisted fears...
This hatred inside of you, this bubble of frustration and anxiety —
Let it swell like a pus-filled abscess of anger!
And with your words unleash this vicarious plague!
Take the unblemished works that have scorned you,
And inject them with the very darkness of your soul!
Let bleeding lips,
They Watch UsThey Watch Us:They Watch Us in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Perched high upon the mountains;
With wings as black as night.
They watch us in the hour,
Before darkness turns to light.
I've seen them in my visions;
In dreams they come and go,
But the things they seem to tell me
I guess nobody should know...
I've seen children that are buried,
Beneath a frozen lake.
A maiden sits there weeping;
Her heart is soon to break.
The crows flutter downward,
A noose amongst their hands.
They take the maiden away,
To a dark and distant land.
And even if I follow -
Even if I try...
I'll simply end up buried,
Where the frozen children lie.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 10th November 2012
Six Words for a SlumpSix Words For A Slump:Six Words for a Slump in Free Verse More Like This
You're tired, unable to create anything.
You feel angry; the anatomy's wrong!
Why won't these words come together?
"Nothing's right anymore, my hands tremble..."
Yet the solution is fairly simple...
I'm showing it to you now;
Break up your ideas, smaller sized.
They come together, like in Tetris.
Rotate the blocks; shape your art.
Draw chibis and stick figures too.
Instead of epics, try a haiku.
How about a six word story?
If your mind is blocked, overheated.
Let it cool; take it slow.
By attempting all the smaller things,
Your art is sure to grow.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 5th January 2013
Sending Me To HellSending Me To Hell:Sending Me To Hell in Free Verse More Like This
I close my eyes, as the black smoke fills the air.
Incense burned to create a semi-choking sensation.
A tiny inkling of the perceived suffering,
But it is enough to make this difficult...
Next, wounds are carefully opened.
Patterns carved into the flesh,
Resembling the nine circles of suffering.
As each begins to form a red river,
An ocean pools beneath my stained elbows.
In the distance I hear the cackling of witches;
Accompanied always by the mad shrieks of those beyond.
Already they can taste the red wine that I ooze
And eagerly, their tongues wag; anticipating the feast.
Concentrate...I have to concentrate
My teeth grind together, as I force them shut,
The pressure causes my jaws to ache and my body soon stiffens.
It seizes up like an iron vault, my mind its secret mechanism;
Twisting, turning, seeking the accepted combination.
I can feel them now, reaching for me...
Tongues begin to lick at my open wounds,
Lustfully salivating unto m
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
Practice Poem - Man In CagePractice Poem - Man in Cage:Practice Poem - Man In Cage in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
When I was young I was taught that pain begets pain,
Anger and animosity, malice and cruelty;
So deeply inflicted, so lovingly gifted.
I tasted of its rotten core and dared to call it sweet.
But what do I have to show for it?
White hot scars that burn in my dreams.
Reminders of a fragmented bi-polar self;
Self inflicted propaganda, to reinforce the "truth".
Truth so lovingly fabricated by a weakness within,
So desperately crying out for vindication;
Openly denying all that might shed light upon me,
Seeking only the company of shades in shadows...
Within four walls I sleep in exile;
Quietly pretending that I am still sane,
Never noticing how it has all turned out;
Alone I remain the same...
Never reaching, never living; I am free within the cage
-Chen Yuan Wen, 1st January 2012
Practice Poem - 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
scraps and sacramentsyou,scraps and sacraments in Free Verse More Like This
beautiful siren girl with melodies
entangled in her hair: you are
shell-shocked and sea-struck
even though you cannot stand
the sensation of sand beneath
you have fingers for prying, picking,
pulling at your skin and nesting
in that hollow space between
your bones. and if anyone asks,
you will swear there are monsters
sleeping in the concaves of your ribs;
there are ghosts beneath your tongue,
embittered, and you are not the words
they say there is an answer, little girl
(sometimes you begin to believe you are
a scarecrow on the border of reality
begging people to turn the other way;
and the mirror will agree)
how far have you gone? a feather in
the breeze who won’t promise to return
again; there is a wandering warmth in
the hesitation of your harbored fear.
where will you be in six months when
the future has become itself and you
are still astray? little one, no one is like you
in the way you sway to the cadence of a
dissonant night. no one knows your
on how I need youtoday is a six-word story:on how I need you in Free Verse More Like This
I’m tired of waking up
I will peel back your
every insecurity and anxiety
and watch them fall to the floor
like vodka petals, regurgitated mosaics,
I will see you naked and
reborn and you will break apart
into passive aggressive poetic
dedications and unsent letters and
I will hate and love you
for the very same reasons and
I will move on.
beauty is a state of mindforgiveness is thebeauty is a state of mind in Free Verse More Like This
scent the violet leaves
on the foot that stomped it;
I am beautiful in remembrance:
I am beautiful
in a body two sizes too
large, in eyes dilated
with questions (eyes
you cannot name; gray
like the ocean, blue
like the heart, green like
the fever dream I cannot
wake from) I am the
hair of a lion, a wild
thing, ignition upon
tempted glance. I am the skin
you cannot name, always fleeting;
you always see
but never truly take in.
and I know a boy
carved of ivory silence,
a letter for someone who hates thinkingin the beginning i wrote poemsa letter for someone who hates thinking in Free Verse More Like This
about death and darkness and
the complex metaphysical arithmetic in which
that would equate to the love i carried for you,
beneath the headaches brewing like bruises
between my eyes, my ocean eyes;
even after convincing me the planets
were dead gods, powerful skeletons with
internal expiration dates and the stars
were their lingering parables, their stories
blinking out years before we were born, i knew
you were a nuclear angel, atom bomb
savior sent to save me from
there is no more mystery
in the world. i sent you
five letters to the PO box you told me
about in florida, the first
was a catalogue of every
angsty song lyric or campy postcard
or description of a flower
crooked in just the right way
that reminded me of you,
the second was a retelling
of every dream i woke from
forgetting who i was, the third
was an apology-- i'm sorry
for who i'm not and who you
need and that your dad always
reeked of bacardi, i'm sorry
for my bukowski-wannabe complex a
on unlearning how to diethe space between intention andon unlearning how to die in Free Verse More Like This
inaction has been redefined. they say
the first step to sadness is
to be happy. the second step
is learning loss. they tell us
depression is an abundance of emotions
but everyone here is a balloon
deflated with time, a sun
dimming as years eat away years
and everything changes but
nothing's really different at all.
we drowned before we even saw
the sea, dreaming of that cemetery
a million miles deep; and still,
I cry for the people worth forgetting:
the girl who couldn't take enough
sleeping pills to live her dreams,
the boy so doped out on an inability
to live that he told us about his trips
to Jupiter and back, and
expected us to believe him. the girl
with a ghost smile named after the prayer
she was born to forget, the boy
who slept like an angel and cried like
a fallen, and me, me
choking on gravity and the ever-growing
weight of my own fucking inadequacy
tied tightly around my neck like a noose
not quite designed properly, right,
because I survived.
Dandelion QueenI dream of the ocean;Dandelion Queen in Free Verse More Like This
that paper-thin line where
the current swallows the stars
and the water churns violet
(you tell me to be
dandelion queen, we've
heard all these words before)
I will sleep heavy
and wake a few hours before dawn,
only to forget my name
my wave-weathered heart will cry,
I will cry (my biggest fear
is drowning in too many
of my own weighted words
you tell me to be
so I can hear the world breathe)
I want to go home
Poets Always Lieambrosial fabrications arePoets Always Lie in Free Verse More Like This
easier to swallow down when
incandescence is a blessing bestowed
only upon those with silky tongues.
deceptions are beautiful
in the right words
because they are salvation, like a
rapture, they save the sickly,
self-indulgent souls from those
tragedies they used to write on the insides
of childhood notebooks about who
they could never be [themselves]
they rescue them from tremulous
corners and closets, hideaways
where they've grown too akin to
the demons they nurse; and drag
them into a land beautiful enough
to wear light as a second skin
(where lies are never discussed
but always shared)
are so much more comforting
than the absoluteness of reality
because self-resentment is as
natural as a heartbeat to those
who were born breathing and
abhorring and denying all from one
steady gasp of what the existent world
had to offer to them
back then their eyes opened, and
their fingers fumbled, born, they realized
the world wasn't as pretty as promi
this won't end up as a suicide notethere aren’t enough momentsthis won't end up as a suicide note in Free Verse More Like This
to love you, or words
in the English language to call you
beautiful. there aren’t enough
heartbeats in me to dedicate you
something you might deserve.
you can no longer lie.
a vengeful earthquake births itself inside
your unkind frame-- bones and skin and
muscle knotted together as an attempt
at something durable; but when you scream,
you don’t wake up. your world
collapses in mounting seconds. words
are a currency and you are
finally rich. you have lived
in the mouths of ghosts for so long
that you can walk through walls;
you aren’t here, you’re choking
on other planets from a lack of oxygen
and understanding. but I will love you,
I will love you; dear wallflower,
your petals are not wilted. dear
anonymous, I could give you a name.
dear hopeless, there are not enough words
in the English language for how beautiful
you really are.
radiantI amradiant in Free Verse More Like This
unrealistic ideologies of an
are toxic; breathing
is a chore. there is
a careful warmth in the
combined effort of
we are the forgotten.
we are the tangled limbs
and childhood stories for
a more sensitive future; we
are the longing, we are
we are measured
in the people we touch;
and I will love you
in the UV light of
hide and seek paranoia.
I love you in the red shimmer
of harbored dreams, I love you
in the industrial gl
in which I try to forget my dreamswith Sunday-heavy lips, she calls mein which I try to forget my dreams in Free Verse More Like This
selfish and means it. I remember
dreams better than people, strangers
greeting me in the grocery store over
a common past and sorry selection
of red grapes. I remember Katie
being beautiful and happy and
wearing the same abnormal toe shoes
and being a few decades older than time
would allow, I remember Emily
being alive. I remember me
escaping to France to defy logic
and stow away in a pretentious,
overpriced tourist resort where
I’d learn to speak a language
I’d never use and love people
who’d never know me; I remember
she tells me trust is not a virtue.
responsibility is gained and
taken away when you prove
unable to learn to be normal and
defiant at trying to breathe. she says,
I love you, but I don’t understand,
and she cries, saucer-eyed,
and this time I can’t
The Little Girl BlinkedThe little girl blinked and he was goneThe Little Girl Blinked in Free Verse More Like This
Unsure if he was ever really there
But she knew that something had inspired her
To do things she wouldn’t normally dare
A teardrop too many he once told her
Had brought him from the shadows of her mind
As those around her began to wander
Across her imagination's fine line
But now he seemed to have walked away
As she found the life she had long sought
He slowly drifted back to the shadows
From her notebook and her beautiful thoughts
And the fools around her carried the spades
Burying him with her imagination
With an epitaph etched on a tombstone
‘Here lies my potential for creation’
Though he never existed beyond her thoughts
He was as real as a chrysalis on a tree
The butterfly perhaps was her freedom
The caterpillar was her memories
But she still sees his face in the reflection
Of her brown eyes in the cracked mirror
Knowing that he is alive and well
And is always going to be with her
People never understand reality
We are just
I Feel Your AbsenceWe will not be sharing a kiss tonightI Feel Your Absence in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And no one else’s lips will ever do
Patience is a virtue, not a hindrance
It will be a pleasure waiting for you
Though I’m in love with your body and soul
And dream of a shared passion between us
I’ll wait to hear your body sing my name
There can indeed be innocence in lust
Alas, I cannot dance with you tonight
As we find ourselves many miles apart
But still you dance around my cluttered mind
Quickstep to the beat of my hollow heart
Though I’m in love with your past and present
I shall slowly remove the hurt and hate
Replacing it with a loving future
In accordance with my belief in fate
A pain that only you can imagine
To be apart, now that our love has grown
And arms feeling as empty as my soul
When I can’t cradle your quivering bones
Though I now wonder how I ever coped
In the days, months and years before you came
I feel lucky to have you in my life
So for this absence I cannot complain
BlackI always wear the colour blackBlack in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
As it reflects my inner mood
Black is the absence of colour
Now I feel the absence of you
Black is my inert, withered heart
Immobilised since you’ve been gone
A vacuous hole of nothing
Lifeless, vapid and monochrome
Black is the frayed material
Of the grim reaper’s deathly cloak
So in the darkest evening sky
You would never see his approach
Black is the colour and the shade
Of the star speckled, moonlit sky
And the shadow which you once cast
In the early morning sunshine
Black is my weeping mascara
As down my face the tears will stream
From the little puddles of ink
My pupils nowhere to be seen
Black are those things I've gazed upon
With my sorrowful eyes shut tight
Even rainbows become polluted
Within the filth of my mind’s eye
Black is how I’m feeling today
But should I not be feeling blue
Like my blood before you cut it red
Like your blood before I cut you
Black is t
Suicide Is Not An OptionI find myself weaving the final stitchesSuicide Is Not An Option in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Of a noose I have been working on for a while
I swore I’d use it by the time it was complete
If me and my sanity hadn’t reconciled
Each thread representing a flawed emotion
Which tightly woven together makes up my life
If you’re the one to cut me down from the rafters
Love, patience and understanding must be your knife
I find myself with a gun in my right hand
With only one bullet left in the cold chamber
I hand the loaded pistol with safety off
Blindly in to the hands of a complete stranger
Does this represent me opening my heart
And risking a life of abject, dismal sorrow
This God given gift of love is worth the risk
And cupid’s bullets can pierce deeper than arrows
I find myself perched on the edge of a cliff
And at this point in time I am feeling unsure
If the wind that’s blowing me towards the verge
Is real or in fact just another metaphor
That is representing all of the worries
Which try to push me to the seas
19 Years OldI was just nineteen years old19 Years Old in Free Verse More Like This
When I cut myself in two
The boy I wanted them to see
And the boy they never knew
Hid my hollow bones away
I've been hiding ever since
Yes, you may see the odd smile
But only ever a glimpse
But my heart was never broken
It was born in several pieces
And with every passing year
The size of the segments decreases
I was just nineteen years old
When I died for the first time
I did not cope so well
With leaving my childhood behind
I didn't want to face up
To these wretched bent back blues
But will I give in to the struggle?
No, with respect I refuse
See my grandfather gave me
The stubborn heart of an ox
I will die before I collapse
A coward I am not
What Lovers DoWhen I was lost you found meWhat Lovers Do in Free Verse More Like This
So now you’re lost let me find you
Fall into my arms sweetheart
No questions, it’s what lovers do
Cradled in my arms tonight
Till the morning after ensues
Maybe then you can see things
From a different point of view
We can sit here all night babe
I’m no saint to offer guidance
Just some whispered words of love
I’ll be here when you break your silence
There is no doctrine of life
But only second hand wisdom
Each person is their own jailor
And inmate begging for freedom
Some of those are there by choice
Others will just misplace the key
You are indeed the latter
But please know you can rely on me
May this torrid time tick away
This is no requiem to our love
As I refuse to mourn the end
Of you, of me and of us
Tragic AuthorI’m looking forward to being a tragic authorTragic Author in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I’ll sit on a cloud with no silver lining
And become the male equivalent of a spinster
With words as my spouse and books as my offspring
At least then it is I who will control the outcome
For the lives of my heroes and heroines
And since I’ll not be afforded a happy ending
The least I can do is to give one to them
The Lord said ‘no’ to my happily ever after
Perhaps to inspire my imagination
A hollowed out heart is an ideal home after all
For my mind’s perpetual inspiration
I’m looking forward to being a tragic author
I’m such a devoted, hopeless romantic
Devoted in the sense I should have been committed
And hopeless as I took our love for granted
I dare you to keep the anguish and torment coming
As it will serve to inspire my greatest work
Assuming my heart pumps love more efficiently than pain
And my mind can refrain from going berserk
Now I sit in frustration with my parchment paper
The ink o
Can't Find JoyI stole the smiles from both of my parent’s facesCan't Find Joy in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The very same one I was responsible for
On the day I was delivered into their arms
In a cloth, from the beak of a black feathered stork
From the very first day with my very first breath
Though I was not able to speak a single word
It was evident as the nurses bowed their heads
That this boy with the dilated pupils was cursed
Everything I’ve ever grown to love and desire
In one way or another I have now destroyed
Yet still I have the temerity to question
Why it is that I can never seem to find joy
I stole the smiles from both of my parent’s faces
I would do anything at all to give them back
But some wicked actions can never be undone
And some statements I have made I cannot retract
Regardless of the depths that I sank or swam to
Whether I was responsible for what was wrong
My lugubrious mood could always be soothed
With memories of the black feathered stork’s bird song
Every page my trembling hand has ever turned
SinkingRecently I've been sinkingSinking in Free Verse More Like This
Like a stone into a pond
Having skimmed across the surface
Of life for far too long
Please may I have a new heart
Along with a new mind
I cannot reverse this feeling
No, I'm sorry, not this time
Recently I've been sinking
Into myself like quicksand
No one sees as it swallows me
Each grain a mislaid plan
Please may I crawl inside your love
Mingle hearts until the end
I cannot reverse this feeling
No, I'm sorry, not again
Recently I've been sinking
Such an overused metaphor
But one which is cathartic
When choosing to explore
That I could save you my love
And in time you could save me
As fear and loneliness will dissolve
Doused in our empathy
I'll Tell My Secrets To The MoonSo long as you furnish me with a windowI'll Tell My Secrets To The Moon in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And a steel frame bed in a corner of a room
I’ll endeavour to keep the pane transparent
To give my eyes a crystal clear view of the moon
Regardless of what phase you are going through
Whether it be half, crescent, full, blue or new
You have never once shown me your dark side
But so many times I have shown mine to you
But tranquillity can be seen on a clear night
Tides roll through my veins as thoughts flood to my pen
Of all the ancestors that have gone before me
Who've had the same moon looking down over them
So long as you furnish me with a window
And a steel frame bed in a corner of a room
You are more than welcome to keep the pain coming
As my true life source is out of reach from you
Regardless of what phase I am going through
Whether I feel sombre or jovial in mood
It’s easy to call me a loner or lunatic
Maybe I just see things from a different point of view
So now I look to the skies on a clear night
Knowing there’ll be no
You're Not?You're anorexic if you're thinYou're Not? in Free Verse More Like This
You're not? Then you're obese.
If you're different, you're insane
You're not? Then you're a fake.
If you're happy, you're hiding something.
You're not? You must be emo.
If you're dating, you're a slut.
You're not? You must have no friends.
If you're popular, you're a jerk.
You're not? You're a nobody.
If you're quiet, you must be disabled.
You're not? You obnoxious freak.
If you're you, you're wrong.
Then you must be perfect.
When I SaidWhen I said I wanted a fairy taleWhen I Said in Free Verse More Like This
I meant I wanted a prince.
I didn't want to be locked in a
I didn't want to be fought by a
I didn't want
When I said I wanted a fairy tale
I meant I wanted to be a princess.
I didn't want to watch a rose
I didn't want to wear the gown
I wanted it
When I said I wanted a fairy tale...
I expected it to end in a
But i never expected it to end like this.
In a Little Girl's MindThere sits the girl with the things in her eyesIn a Little Girl's Mind in Free Verse More Like This
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…
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.
SchizophreniaSmile.Schizophrenia in Free Verse More Like This
"What are you doing?"
Trying to escape.
Look behind you.
Are they there?
You'll never understand it.
Rip your hair out.
Cover your ears.
They want you to die.
They're out for you.
Shut the door.
Lock it again.
"Are you okay?"
You'll never make it.
Fall to the ground.
"What are you doing?"
"What are you going through?"
"What's wrong with you?"
... "I don't know."
Bipolar DisorderLook over your shoulder. They're watching you.Bipolar Disorder in Free Verse More Like This
Tighten your stomach muscles.
Bounce your leg up and down.
"Are you okay?"
Don't say anything.
Feel it, feel the thoughts melting from your mind.
"What are you doing?"
They're behind you.
Kill them before they kill you.
Please save me.
Crazy. You're crazy.
No one wants you.
Pull the trigger.
"Please tell me what's wrong."
You wouldn't understand.
"Who are you? I don't know you anymore."
I'm a nobody.
I am Bipolar Disorder.
... "I don't know."
BullyShh.Bully in Free Verse More Like This
Demons in the shadows
They'll find a way
To get you.
Beatings, swallowing you.
Scars, defining you.
You know you're weak.
You can't fight a bully
When the bully's inside of you.
RIP Unborn BabyTiny little bodyRIP Unborn Baby in Free Verse More Like This
Quiet little heartbeats.
See this little pea? That's how big you are right now.
But Mommy doesn't know that yet.
Little fingers start to grow
out of tiny little hands.
See this little peanut? That's how big you are right now.
But Mommy doesn't know that yet.
Your tiny legs start to grow
out of your sweet little body.
See this little pencil tip? That's how big your footprints are right now.
But Mommy doesn't know that yet.
Weak little heartbeat.
Weak little baby.
See these smiles on our faces? That's how loved you are right now.
But you don't know that yet.
Gone little heartbeat.
Gone little baby.
See us walking into the doctor's office? That's how excited we are right now.
But you don't know that yet.
"I'm so sorry for your loss."
See these tears on our faces? That's how much we love you right now.
But you don't know that yet.
A baby that had Daddy'
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.
I am Me. Who are You?I am thirteen years old.I am Me. Who are You? in Free Verse More Like This
I am not typical.
I am not average.
I am me.
I have been in two mental facilities.
Both times for thoughts of suicide.
I am not emo.
I am not a freak.
I am me.
My mother attempted suicide about six months ago.
My sister attempted suicide when i was eight.
But, I am not a victim.
I am not tortured.
I am me.
My father had a heart attack just over a week ago.
He was hospitalized for nine days.
He recently returned to the hospital for kidney problems.
I suffer from Bipolar Disorder with Psychotic Features.
I have hallucinations.
I have delusions.
But I am not a disorder.
I am not my difficulties.
I am not my troubles.
I am me.
i'm not an artistwe do not belong in boxesi'm not an artist in Free Verse More Like This
and bags and books or
and we do not sit contently
in wordsworth and shakespeare
and blake, burns, and brownings
or in the cold stiff bones
of raleigh's of long ago;
detect, and re-select
a virus--a disease,
a germ in every verse and line;
the first signs of
foolish waitings under
bridges and scolding parents
and nothing to signify at all
we are the blood of nations
and the heart of men
and the love of every
rhetorist and sentimist
we dance through the ballrooms of
the age and chat with
we shake hands with heros
and the homeless, dirty
type that gum over 'hello's
we are and aren't and will be
silly verse and
naive philosophers and sweet oxymorons
waving hello from the shore;
forever onward and never ending
like the stars in an
I would love to give upi.I would love to give up in Free Verse More Like This
'there's a second hand that holds mine, and stuffs the words back down my throat.'
her voice a crack--
sticks & stones breaking
between her teeth
but when she tries to find the sound
her pen runs dry
[can someone flip the switch to 'yes' or 'no'
i've been so de
& my head is saying 'maybe']
(i would ask myself,
but i don't trust liars)
she tries to string the words
down a thread
but they always c r u mb l e
(& the cinders burn
with the same old questions)
but when you turn
she'll be gone
there are rocks in her throat when she asks you for help.
the words grind to sand on her tongue.
smoke in her head
smeared across her hands
her fingers are broken;
o k e d
she reaches for some kind of
at the corner
& turn of each & every page
I do not like you poetsI do not like you poetsI do not like you poets in Free Verse More Like This
breathing into my sorry head
like the air hasn't been wasted a half-a-million times
folding up my lungs
to place them neatly into a wastebasket
how can you make me stop hurting
& then just leave me
a limp lettuce leaf
on the backside of some dirty napkin verse
I am not the jealous type
but I'm going to call up Melpomene & ask her where she's been
send her drunk texts
because I'm too tired of filling up my skull
with cicada skins instead of led
while you make it all too easy
to sleep through a heartattack or two
my pygmalion, my god, my thing of legends
when you were being taught the siren's song
was I writing myself a migraine?
i can make you love mewriters,i can make you love me in Free Verse More Like This
do you bend in
shaking with leaves?
a sinner's devotion
or that boy
in the other aisle
(i hold your books
and stroke the pages,
they haven't arrived:
(that was forty-five
hoping no one notices
that i've read this
as i watch him
slip behind the counter
(i devised a plan to
volunteer on fridays
and trap him)
as i read
for the fifteenth
wanderlusti was all sex and stitcheswanderlust in Free Verse More Like This
with every color on a TV screen;
(and between me and you)
your teeth, your tongue,
your ferret-hands and knowledgeable mind--
they scared me.
the foreign worlds beneath your skin:
the contortions of your spine and
you wanted to conquer; to claim
and plant a flag--
and i--i wanted cancer
all of your lives have been addictsmy catall of your lives have been addicts in Free Verse More Like This
my front porch
into a graveyard
as if to say:
this is what we need
she tried to lick my claws
back to hands
& I said to her:
"I do not have 9 lives
to spend on the bathroom floor
with 13-hour insomnia
can't we just kill the mockingbirds
pull the concrete
out of our throats
& get this dying
she's got 8 lives down
& doesn't answer questions twice
a ratio of freckles to starsvirginia,a ratio of freckles to stars in Free Verse More Like This
you are floating away in
of sunlight & marrow bones
i want to know
had vertigo then--
a certain horse sadness
i remember how you
would swallow the stars:
watch them glow through your cheeks
(no one told you
what they thought of light & dying
of being a constellation
drawn across your face)
you are the milky way:
a firefly drowning
but i will trail you--
hold your coat above the water
exploding a million miles away
with a number for a name)
because i have toimpaledbecause i have to in Free Verse More Like This
& wreaking havoc on these
more than endorphins &
planes out of control
pretending that if
instilled in bedsheets
give me my shadow, put on my crown.i.give me my shadow, put on my crown. in Free Verse More Like This
I knew you well enough
to know your birthday
and middle name
[even the shampoo you wore
on my pillow that really needs to be cleaned anways.]
Your bow-arms and thin shoulders;
pretences always daring me to
A symphony of laughing bones;
a thousand "what if's"
without their "nevers"
and a silly pet name that gave you blond hair.
What could you ever know
about those little secrets
and apples in your eyes?
until you sat with your hands
grabbing cold-shell ears--
over and over and over
until you believed
That if I did--I would remember
because it didn't happen of course;
no never, never.
Night under night under night.
Curling like a cinder into water--
Forget sweetly, forget-forget.
She told me: tubefed--
crushed led and pocketfuls
of stones; someday going quietly
At least--well, they told me
once--today twice and three times
down to find an answer
I wanted to regret.
Maybe someday I'll ask too--
Sweetly: running around and around
when writers cryAwake on strong, black coffee drinkswhen writers cry in Free Verse More Like This
Words on paper, liquid ink
Dreams of pen tips, future lies
Tragic stories, quotes of the wise
Nights have carved their dark, deep valleys
In the hollows of my eyes
For you see, my friend, when writers cry
There are no tears, their cheeks are dry
But ink dipped fingers, worn out wrists
Chewed up nails and bloody fists
You see, it's strange when writers cry
Their hearts are true, their words don’t lie
They mourn in silence for a few days
Of paper cuts and tear-less haze
Of coffee mugs and smoky paper
Liquid spills, and water vapor
Sorry dreams and wasted hours
Putrid smells and dying flowers
(Torn to pieces from inside
Tears are hidden by our pride)
SurvivorOn your left cheek bone, you had a long, dark scarSurvivor in Free Verse More Like This
That you've earned when you fought their brutal war
And five broken bones in your slender hands
That you've cracked in a fight of a few damned lands
You deny but I've seen the light limp in your knee
Twisted in a ship at the heart of the sea
You pretend it was fine just to hide your pain
But I see your tears through the thickest rain
And in silent nights I can feel your cries
Just beneath my skin. They uncover your lies
The lies that you've told of how you're doing alright
Though the soldier in you is in constant fight
In silent nights, behind your shut door
You still see your friend, as he bleeds on the floor
You still hear the bullet that pierced your knee
And the scream of a boy who tried to flee
And the smoke and the rain and the inch deep mud
And the deaths and the pains and the fresh red blood
And you know that beneath all your skin deep scars
It won't be the same. You forgot who you are
Heart CutoutI met loneliness on a desolate roadHeart Cutout in Free Verse More Like This
And I became the only friend I had.
I fell in love with noble words
And moonstruck dreams
And genius schemes
And flaky thoughts
And berserk quotes.
One day the hummingbirds
Laughed at me because my songs
Contain no music.
I shouted loud, "YOU BIRDS ARE WRONG!
My songs are poems and a poem is
An eerie song that plays alone.
I had a heart shaped cutout in my chest.
Sometimes it became a subway for fireflies
Sometimes a bridge for love and lies
Sometimes I hid there a pack of fries
And a coke with ice – extra large size
But most of all, I hid a secret –
A hope so deep it blurred my eyes.
I wish one day you'd read my songs
-and return my heart to where it belongs.
Tiny CreaturesListen to the silent whispers of the willowTiny Creatures in Free Verse More Like This
And the wisdom in the secrets she tells
With the young lazy leaves on her slender branches, dancing
In the arms of their stiff dark lovers
Where a blue jay had once nursed four eggs, all told
And four fresh lives were brought to earth
The willow remembered you and your girl
In the deep lover's carvings of her skin
A heart with an arrow, an A and an M
There were days when you two cuddled beneath her shade
Away from the searing glare of the sun
And days when you danced to the sweet melodies
Of your rusty radio, as old as the willow
That's why she swayed to it, and her lazy leaves smiled for a change
But then soon, you were gone. And so was your girl
Like the winds as they left the old willow again
With those painful scars that you've left in her skin:
A heart with an arrow, an A and an M
They remained where they were for fifty years and then
They were buried with dust, grass and spider webs
Tiny creatures lived there: in her skin
In your heart
The Chained PrinceHe was a fire onceThe Chained Prince in Free Verse More Like This
A dying fire in an ice cold soul
Dear chained price,
The madman who wanted control
Has chained you in platinum
After you stole his precious gold
And your people seem to love you better now
You're a legend:
-The gold thief in the platinum chains
StoriesSomewhere between your dusty pagesStories in Free Verse More Like This
I lost myself for what seemed like ages
Somewhere between those little black words
I found myself another world
And along the lines you've given me
I finally set myself free
I'm not me anymore
I'm a Hobbit, a fairy. I'm Superman, I'm Thor
I'm a dwarf, I'm an elf, and I'm even a mermaid
I'm a tin man, a dragon. I'm Rapunzel with a braid
I'm what you think I am and all that you never will
I'm an ocean, I'm a desert. I'm a mountain and a hill
I'm the hero that will save you, or the villain that won't
I'm everything you want to happen or something that you don't
And when I shut your leather binds
I'll hide you where nobody finds
And dream about you in my sleep
I'll count your pages instead of sheep
And when I wake up I will write
All the memories in your light
A poem that will set you free
A secret just for you and me
A Deal with the DemonShe lay beneath the sun's searing flareA Deal with the Demon in Free Verse More Like This
Her blood dripping
Into the silver river
Running down her cheeks
And through her hair
"Goodbye," she told the world
Once, this girl was a wealthy princess
Once she was too precious and priceless
Once, she wore the most beautiful dresses
She danced in balls of golden floors
They say the princess made a horrible deal
A deal with the demon of the gold and steel
They say the demon would give her a wheel
Of gold and diamonds if she let him "heal"
Her poor tired soul
The princess agreed for the wheel was tempting
In a matter of seconds her soul was empty
And the demon took over and was now attempting
To rule the whole kingdom and run it his way
The kingdom was corrupted, turned upside-down
And the king was murdered right beneath his crown
And the farmer was homeless and the doctor a clown
And the people rebelling, destroying each town
So they hunted the princess then left her to drown
Now the demon believed that his princess was useless
So he left her
To the child in WarYou've lost your home, and lost your peopleTo the child in War in Free Verse More Like This
You stand alone, in grim disaster
Your house destroyed, forever after
Your parents gone just like your laughter
Remember when you played there, my child?
Pretending as if you're a dancer?
Remember when your little friend came by?
And raced to see if he was faster?
And then you beat him at the race
And laughed at him and made a face
But now, my child there's no such place
For it was wrecked by airplanes
That rained explosives and grenades
I swear my child, I'll wipe those tears
Someday when I have lost my fears
The fears that you have never had
Your little heart, never learned to fear
Someday you'll grow up and wonder why
Your dad was shot by another guy
You'll want to know what happened when
Your house exploded in July
And why your mom was in the den
And why she too, just had to die
You'd blame yourself for leaving them
And hate yourself because you've survived
My child, you'll learn to fear armed men
My child you'll know that your world has
ExperimentalistShe always said she wasExperimentalist in Free Verse More Like This
I knew otherwise.
This girl was raised to
Believe that the ability of
Counting the bones in your
Rib cage is beautiful.
Sixteen years old
With sand in her blood
And shoulder blades
As sharp as knives
As long as wings.
That day I knew
Her smiles were painful
And her laughs were just
Recorded in her throat
From so much practice
In a life that was once
Poetry fingers: The soul of a childThat night, I pledged oathPoetry fingers: The soul of a child in Free Verse More Like This
to the child with poetry fingers
and melodic lips that tend to sing
the pain out of a madman's soul.
The child breathed in the ink
and sucked it in like morphine mist.
It burned tattoos through that beautiful blood;
sweet memories that never seemed to exist and
hopeless doses of eerie hope.
Somehow, a new world was created and
the child planted fresh daisies
between its creamy, thick pages.
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
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
How Do You Like Your Eggs In The Morning?Sunnyside up.How Do You Like Your Eggs In The Morning? in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The pan was still warm when I dropped it into the sink. We had eggs. You had them sunnyside up, but I couldn't bear runny egg whites and so I had scrambled. Just in case. You found your right shoe and left. I sat at the kitchen table drumming my fingers against the buttercup plastic cloth and thought about Life with a capital L. What was it all about?
I started to think of breakfast as a metaphor for us. You had it all together. Sunnyside up. I was scrambled. A convoluted tick of a person. I started to consider my life as being thoroughly forked. I watched the birds outside the kitchen window for a while and did not relate them to what I had just eaten. After a long slither of time had passed I got up and washed the pan until the eggs were gone. You never came back. I learnt not to mind.
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,
ConsummationHear me read it!Consummation in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In debris beside your house
there's the rotting stench of home,
where all the ghosts of lovers
and their broken chances go.
You smile at me, I shiver.
I taste your tongue on mine.
There's no dead for the sympathy
as you trespass bound'ry lines.
In the broken bulb of midnight
when the caskets rock to sleep
there beneath the soil bed
you lay me down, I weep.
You smile at me, I wonder
as you pin me underneath
if you know how I wish that I
were six feet more beneath.
In the soiled marital bed
where pigs and otters go to lie
you grunt your way to release
the only release I want, is to die.
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.
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.
Beautiful LiesYou painted a neon yellow streakBeautiful Lies in Free Verse More Like This
across my ankle
and told me I was art.
I raked a venomous red line
across your throat
and replied: and you're a liar.
BurntThat afternoon, under a burnt croatian sun,Burnt in Free Verse More Like This
we flaked our protective shells away
exposing the pink, raw vulnerability
that hid beneath our flanks and fortitude.
We delved systematically into nervousness
and chewed reflectively on our inner cheeks
as self conscious anxiety grew wildfire
across the too-bright landscape of our love.
The bones bleached and brittle, they broke,
and we could not stay together without them.
I don't regret opening my heart to the skies;
what I regret is never getting it back.
For every boy I ever kissedi.For every boy I ever kissed in Free Verse More Like This
you took my hand 'neath the magnolia
at a christmas dinner party I held.
your mouth was cold. so were my affections.
you were the first man to listen to me.
i let you listen to my heartbeat; but
when the day fell away, you bruised me deep.
you were my safe harbour, and i your storm
turning your misery to naught but air
but i squirmed away from your tongue, repulsed.
you were my cradle, when i couldn't sleep
you would hold me close and pray for something,
anything, to keep me safe. (it was you).
eleven months spent sleeping with my phone,
i still couldn't believe when you kissed me
even after midnight struck us again.
i don't miss those guitar-player fingers
you wrapped me 'round. i loved enough for you
until i realised you didn't love me.
we fell into our love by accident
and like one, there were some fatalities
when you said you loved me using her name.
opposites attract. i fell hard for you.
you kissed me in starlit castle ruins.
FragmentsI call them fragments, the parts of me that were too exhausted to stay. He calls them flecks because I am a flake. I wish I was a flake. It sounds prettier than being a fragment. Flakes are like snow. Soothing, falling from the sky on the tip of his tongue that melt and disappear. Fragments are archeological findings of a scarred past we really should not remember.Fragments in Free Verse More Like This
I want to remember my scars. So I am a fragment.
I draw on my legs. When my skin dries out, I use my index finger as a pencil and draw what the clouds are trying to tell me. Sometimes it’s a dog, and sometimes it’s a bear and sometimes it is his face looking at me disapprovingly.
That is when I stop drawing.
At night, when the rain falls, I sit at the bay window and pretend to write stories whilst he pretends to sleep. “What are you writing?” he will ask in his asleep voice. “A funny story.” It is not. It is a pale, scary story, and it looks like my skin. “Were you dreamin
You call it Judgement, We call it SinEmily needs the words to understand that she isn't being unreasonable. She just wants them to mean something and not be a string of words which flows into itself over and over again.You call it Judgement, We call it Sin in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She doesn't like her name either. Not because Emily isn't a pretty name but because she would rather be called something she feels like. (She has never quite forgiven her parents for choosing her name for her.) If she could, she would call herself Glass, because that is what she wakes up feeling like every morning. As if crystallised pieces of glass are edible and her insides tingle as she swallows them whole.
Emily lets the words call her names sometimes. She writes them on her knees so that she can remember them. Sometimes the words call her a whore, and sometimes stupid, and sometimes a loser and sometimes a tramp (She has never learnt that loving too much is a crime and boys with pretty eyes sometimes lie.). She sits in the bathroom with a pen the colour of blood and writes them carefully
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
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.
This is Not a Story about SuicideI am not here. These are not hospital walls. This is not a nurse who is speaking to me. That is not John unconscious, lying in a bed that faces due North, and that is not his mother trying to explain why his bed should always face North because he hates sleeping facing South.This is Not a Story about Suicide in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
This is not happening.
I am not taking a deep breath. I am not walking down the sickly white corridors with their bleach scent. I am not buying this cup of coffee from a cafeteria lady who is working at an hour that is reserved only for intensive care patients. This is not the way back to what is not John’s room.
That is not his heart rate dropping, and I am not running out of the room, screaming for help. We are not being pushed out, that door does not have a red light that claims intensive care, it has not been all night.
That is not John’s doctor explaining how they were not able to pump his stomach completely and it is not John who flat lined. That is not an empty hospital bed. That is not his moth
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
Judgement"You need to stop doing this."Judgement in Short Stories More Like This
"Stop doing what?"
"Writing me into your stories."
"Because it scares me. I'm not this guy that you write about. I'm not some kind of Prince Charming and I'm certainly not a sea God or whatever you like to say about my eyes every now and then."
"Yeah. You really need to work on your judgement of people, because this is all wrong. It's like you don't know me at all!"
"So why don't you correct me and I'll fix my idea of you accordingly."
"Well firstly, I'm a really nervous person."
"Yeah. Your hands are either fiddling with your hair or your sleeve, or you're biting your nails."
"And I don't like going out. I'm a hermit."
"Except to your best friends' houses, or to the animal shelter, or to me."
"And I'm dead inside."
"Says the boy who hides his tears at the sight of an injured puppy."
"I do not."
"Yes, you do."
"Anyway, I'm not always nice to you. In fact, I really don't do enough."
"You're right. Except yo
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
Two Years LaterShe asked him gently, “Do you love me?”Two Years Later in Free Verse More Like This
In his long silence, she found closure,
And left her love under a willow tree.
ApplesSweet and sensual,Apples in Free Verse More Like This
The feel of your fingers on my skin.
Slow and longing,
The trail of your hands on my curves.
Languid and helpless,
The pulsing of my veins under your masterful strokes.
My love for you is like my love for apples.
Juicy, crunchy, delicious...
And as dark as a sinner's heart.