A Letter to My Attackeri.More Like This
I feel their eyes on me, feel their desire.
you peel me, inspect me, tear me in two
in search of the things you want,
pluck me apart like a bundle of grapes:
you look at me and first see my polished shell,
your perfect idea of a haven,
but then again, you never truly see.
I am pieces, body parts, lips and breasts and legs,
and you run your fingers over all of it,
treating me like some sort of toy to play with.
god, can't you hear me screaming inside?
"you tempted me, you asked for it," you say,
but don't you understand?
nobody asks to be hurt.
nobody wants to be pushed, forced, ground into dust.
did the short hem of my dress
entice you to rip it from my body?
who gave you the right to touch me,
to steal me, to even set your eyes on me?
you vicious savage, you uncontrollable mutt,
you worthless little snake so keen to burrow.
as you silenced my screams, did you ever consider
that there was a frightened girl beneath you,
a real, living, breathing person
When Media Kills Mourningi.More Like This
I remember once,
While discussing the horrors in the media,
A teacher mused that
If we mourned for everything in the news
We would go insane.
At some point,
We have to become a little numb,
To body counts,
Until it happens in front of us,
Until we can see it.
West Nile Virus
is quite serious.
An early warning sign
Is dead birds.
Please contact animal services
So we may prevent human outbreaks.
A bird was in the yard,
A mourning dove,
Its chest heaving heavily,
And then I thought it might have a broken heart.
We wanted to help
But how could we?
I simply wished
I could give it my love.
And no place would take it
Until it had died.
on wanting to be thinnerthe world is in the palmMore Like This
of my hand when I
wake up next
to your cream-white skin
and bones - they’re
both the same color now
and I don’t know
whether to be proud or
that in spite of the past
biting and writhing its
limping way back to you,
you’re still in my bed,
breathing and more
and though you could be smiling
you’re still holding your
it’s still there.
you’re still here.
the sky maps itself in the irises
of your muddy eyes when I
find you talking about
licking dreams and dust off
an acceptance letter to
you told me that only
in the crevasses
of an ill-tempered blackhole’s eyes
would you find enough
end yourself without
ending the world.
but you would end me,
you did end me the day
you told me your body was
not a temple - mine or yours -
and that no purge
would be bloody
enough to make you stop
corpses from your very lips.
the heart of the Sandman rests
between your beate
Dark Crevices.Dark Crevices.More Like This
Little one, monsters do not sleep under your bed.
They prefer to procure the space inside your head.
And all those white lies your mother told you
Are from made up fairy tales she once read.
When you woke up and begged for her presence.
Shaking, snivelling and waiting for her to console you.
You never had the need to perform any form of penance.
As she would make them vanish by only uttering a sentence.
All those proverbs and warm words your mother sold you,
Are there to assure you when she is not able to watch over.
But no amount of prayers, dream catchers and four leaf clovers.
Can protect you from what prowls directly above your shoulders.
And all those white lies your mother told you.
Shaking, snivelling and waiting for her to console you.
All those proverbs and warm words your mother sold you.
Will not help when the demons decide to take a hold of you.
ShyIn my world there's fun and adventureMore Like This
In your world I'm quiet
In my world when I talk, I don't hinder
In your world I hide it
I've got so much to say
I think of talking, but wont
You won't hear me anyway
I try, but then I don't
In your world you call it Shy
I want to come out
truly I try
but I hold back, no doubt
I just want to be friends
and make people grin
Reflected InspectionReflected InspectionMore Like This
Here I am again examining my disfigured figure in the mirror.
Fondling my fat wishing I could trim it down with a pair of scissors.
Relentlessly poking, prodding and picking at my face.
Leaving behind nothing but a black, coarse and scabby trace.
Furiously patting down my cheeks begging them to be smaller.
Standing on the edge of my toes willfully imagining that I am taller.
Folding my ears inwards commanding them to decrease in size.
Hysterically trying to find the beauty they said existed in my eyes.
Scrutinizing my nose using my hands to mould it into my desired shape.
Impatiently withdrawing my stomach to wonder how I would look if I lost some weight.
Slapping my overlapping thighs repeatedly, persuading them to become firmer.
Grasping the pair of scissors at my throat with the intent of committing my own murder.
Thinking to myself how can anyone ever find me remotely attractive?
And how can I ever expect myself to be regularly sexually active.
With me looking
Puberty.Puberty.More Like This
I just see it as you trying to control me,
Trying to turn me into something I’m not.
It’s like you want me to be sad, depressed and lonely
And that is why you break and regulate everything I've got.
Can’t you see I am doing this for your own good?
That I am trying to protect from all what is bad out there.
If I didn't do it, I can guarantee you that nobody else would.
It was never my intention to turn your life into a living nightmare.
You’re not protecting me, you’re preventing me,
Stopping me from taking and making my own decisions.
Even before I say or do anything wrong, you’re correcting me
And that is why I go to all these places without your permission.
As long as you are under my roof, you will abide by my rules.
You cannot see it now but in the future you will thank me.
That means I want you to go to and come straight home from school.
Recently your attitude stinks, so think before you speak and get an
Intangible Tangent.Intangible Tangent.More Like This
They say God only gives you what you can handle.
But lately I have realized that this cannot be true.
Every blow has the potential to blow out that candle.
So there is no guarantee that everyone will pull through.
What happens if you can withstand the disturbance?
Will you be constantly waiting for the next wave?
Imagine waking up knowing what lies behind the curtains.
Confined behind the undefined lines of a close shave.
Perhaps we all possess the prowess to overcome any obstruction.
But not everyone has the belief that they can persevere.
We are all victims of a much bigger incomprehensible construction
And there will always be some that succumb to that deepest fear.
What will you become if you somehow conquer all the obstacles?
Doing whatever it takes to ensure that you will survive.
Blaming others for what you have done refusing to be responsible.
Knowing this is the person you had to become in order to stay alive.
In the end we have no choice but to make do wit
Your Poetry SucksYes, roses are redMore Like This
And violets are blue
But you have to understand
Who said they had to,
Its about imagination
Emotion and orignality
Not the reiteration
Of dead men's practicality
They are your sentence
To a world that has to listen
As you create the difference
Whether it be
With angst poem against love
Or how you set your heart free
To fly like a dove,
For these words
Whether or not they be true
Their beauty and ideals
Will be used to define you,
Hope ,in fact, has feathers
And like a caged bird it sings
But these words will only be tethers
That strip you of your wings,
Those are their words
Meant for their time
And meant for their herds,
But this your time
Meant for your words
And whether they be meaningful, stupid
Or completely absurd
I'm sure they'll be amazing.
Society's ChildrenSociety's Children:More Like This
trapped in this world
Cruelty fills my ears as my conscience
fills with fears of being lost and alone
I feel the hurt of unbelonging and
the insensitivites society feeds its children
Hating not relating, shoving not loving are
some of the insensitivities that lie in the
children of society.
the astrologists.there was a boy i once knew.More Like This
He used to teach me about the universe—
how planets are actually small atoms that
make up galaxies, and how the stars we see
are really just particles that make up infinity.
He taught me the forgotten history behind the stars,
and how they were so much more
than just flaming orbs of gas.
"The stars were once worlds,"
he would tell me.
"They once were planets,
and now that's all they have left to be."
there was a boy i once knew,
and he used to teach me about Fiddler's Green
and Spaceship Earth. He told me what to say
to a person who's dying, and why astrologists
are the people to go to when you can't find your way.
"The astrologists were once mages,"
he would tell me, his wings
itching to be free.
"They once were lovers,
and now that's all they have left to be."
He used to talk for hours about what
he imagined it felt like to be reincarnated,
and why you feel most alive when you're
almost dead. He used
Not BlissRosesMore Like This
Tall and scarred with mistakes
Thorns protecting them
From farther tearing
Of their petals
Short and pure with ignorance
Hidden by thick leaves
From the tears
In the Roses
Growing farther out of reach
Regret and pain
Fueling their need
To protect Lillies
Forgotten in the shadows
Strain against the idea
Of being left behind
by the Roses
Only growing so fast
Cannot hide for long
Their scars of battle
So plain in the light
Reaching for the sun
No longer in shadow
See now, however
That the shadow was safer
With thorns and vines
humans and swansI promise you:More Like This
for being stubborn enough
within their tiny bird-brains
to not leave their partner alone
until their dying breath
(or how honeybees
communicate by dancing).
Just us; we human few -
we adore to cling to forever's
and to vow to be swan-like
in our stubbornness to stay
but we hardly ever are.
Swans don't exchange rings,
nor promises -
they just decide,
no words involved,
to stay right w
but there is nothing you can say nowWhen you returnMore Like This
Do you think you could take some of your precious-not-to-be-wasted-time to say hello?
When you left
It was almost literally without-a-trace
And you left a note; one of those shitty little notes
“Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine” with “but most importantly you’ll be fine without me”
Written in-between each individual letter of your goddamned words.
As Flowers BloomMy lover clings to windowsillsMore Like This
Where spirits get lost in the sky—
Where the stories of old
Are just sounds manifold
And the sun sings them all as he dies.
My lover sings songs to the desert;
Her melodies rise with the sun—
Her voice harmonizes
With all that comprises
The spirits that swelter and run.
My lover is one with the forest;
Her veins tunnel through the Great Tree—
Each conflagrant feast
And brumal release
Are ingrained in Autumnal decree.
My lover springs life in the valleys—
Brings color and light to the hills
So that none may feel gloom
By the flowers that bloom
As she dances among daffodils.
My lover treads water in silence—
Her skirt waves commanding the tide
So that even the moon
Is helplessly swooned
By the luminous pull of her eyes.
My lover dreams in astral planes
Where comets dance and play—
The depth of her mind
And the soul that it binds
Are the light that give dawn to the day.
Captain Ulmar Wenceslas LockhartCaptain Ulmar Wenceslas LockhartMore Like This
It was not a sight for the faint hearted, that I can tell thee
To see my Captain fighting his enemy, and break free
And live to fight another day, to explore the endless blue sea
Alas that is life, such are things meant to be
My Captain was Ulmar Wenceslas Lockhart, God be with the man
Sailed many seas he did, those who fought him were damned
None could be saved when they faced Lockhart, all feared his plan
To bring down the Odyssey, to which end he never ran
This is the story of Captain Lockhart, and his brave last stand
The Odyssey’s captain was no ordinary fool
He was Lockhart’s equal, affluent in all trades and tools
He was Nicodemus Bartholomew “Lockhart”
“Lockhart” because he equaled my Captain in every art
From the Port O’ Leon to The guild town Hall
Numerous times they blocked the seas; all
to themselves they kept the battlefield;
But alas, their efforts provided no yie
The River's CallTwo Shadow Fairies wandering through mist an' tree,More Like This
across smoke swept waters,
curled and bent by the howl of the forlorn wind
tiny dust fairies dancing through the leaves,
whispering, "Shall they succumb to the River's Call?"
The Shadow Fairies glide across magneta sand,
answering the river's call,
And the dark smoke settled upon the waters,
to fan in the forlorn wind the dreams of those who dare to dream,
of smoke and light and darkness,
till they became as two little souls lost dancing in joy,
in the vastness of the smoke-swept waters.
Our BecomingWe became LifeMore Like This
in a breath drawn between us
our shared exhale whispered
let me breathe you
breathing through thick and thin
would mean bleeding out
torn by thorns
shoved down the throat
twisted and forced up again
let me breathe you
in this rhythmic transition
to a vision beyond measure
as waves of strength and wisdom
form in humility’s elusive sea
so shall we
grow and breathe together
through pain’s woe
and in pleasure’s glow
with the patient steady flow
of our becoming
The Lament of MidnightAnd I'm alone, to walk awayMore Like This
into the shadows I forswore
Had I died in my dreams one day
I would be alone from the core
of my sadness that burns in fires
of my darkened dreams, ashen pyres
therein you fled, leaving me, lost
To the ministry of the frost
mutterings from over the cuckoo's nesti.More Like This
it is dark. that
is a judgment. my roommate
is snoring, and somewhere,
a girl is crying because
she doesn't have a heart
so she doesn't have
a home. if we are time bombs,
I think I must have detonated
a little late. it is dark
and I can't see
why all problems are defined
but their need to be solved.
I dream in color, but I live
in black and white. I drown
in gray faces that don't
sound familiar; it is dark
and I can't remember
the last time it was bright.
I am afraid
of caring. we are a strange
people, we, who love by
hating ourselves, by bleeding
am afraid that
one day, I might start crying,
and I won't be able to stop and
it will be the second Great Flood,
all the world will drown in
my mistakes. You
draw that out of me,
like a marionette on
a string, you pull these
anchors out from
my stomach until I
can hardly breathe. you
live on the other half of the mirror,
I am afraid
that distance is too
in the end,
it's all the same. every
*Byzantium Swirl*Writer experienced Byzantine flareMore Like This
Poetic labyrinthine will ensnare
Interpretate creative thought
Enlightenment reader sought.
Embossed tome open, on a knee
Mind takes flight inner eye can see
Unfolding mysteries, Byzantium blaze
Poetical passion ricochets.
*Capability Brown*Enduring landscape.More Like This
Planted by his hand.
*Summer Flowers*Winter interludeMore Like This
Sunflower bright, Cornflower blue
Seed packet waiting.
DryadDryadMore Like This
Born amid stars, sprouted a sprig divine
Followed by twig sprung out of fertile soil
Gold dust and feathers her temples shall foil
While juicy vines around her wrists entwine
One of forest folk like her mother dear
Robed in sheer sunlight, hair with bloom adorned
Sings tune of wisdom to heart of acorn -
- Oak tree, the home to that her life adheres
Angel of timber, woodland's tender ghost
Nymph with green wings of silky foliage
The branches provide shelter and salvage
To harmless soul that once tree dies, is lost
over there nowon the other sideMore Like This
of a broken heart
you understand cracks
how they divide
what was whole
a chasm is
we aren't ready
for that kind
it is easier
to be wrapped
than to be broken
I miss you - to oblivion.It's been so so long,More Like This
And yet not so long at all,
Since I last saw you,
Sat underneath the willow,
Branches covering your face.