Human Nature When you are young,
they will treat you with the softness of spring.
They will guide you through the winter winds and
over snowy hills, admiring the brilliance of your
midday innocence; pulling daisies from the earth
just to place them in your hair. And they will
whisper to each other of how beautiful you are.
When you grow older,
they will treat you with the indifferences of autumn.
They will urge you from the complacency of your own
fleeting fulfillments, and they will watch your
brilliance fade with the swiftness of the sky. You
will shed your fragile childhood with the colors of
the trees, and you will learn to face the winter winds
without their guiding arms. And they will whisper to
each other of how beautiful you are.
When you are grown,
they will treat you with the coldness of winter. They
will leave you bare and naked before the ravenous wolves,
expecting you to fend for your own forgotten brilliance,
asking why you've kept those wilting daisies in your hair.
Road SideI want to have an impactMore Like This
that lasts longer than the life
of those petrol seeped flowers
placed ad memoriam at the road side.
Let my memory last longer
than the roses.
Stars Wish on People TooDefine me when you take swigsMore Like This
the number of your hair.
The unmoving frames
of your Sunday musings
whisper in caps lock;
they want to be forgotten-
they told me,
like I could save you from myself
I’ve always wondered
what it would be like
to play the piano
with my feet on an acoustic run;
the shadow that isn’t friends
with the light like a body part
I’ve always known,
but never quite seen.
I sugarcoat myself
hanging by mere fiction,
a pendulum and a metronome
What are we but allusions
to the people behind us,
ambivalence to the rivers
that never meet the ocean.
It’s frightening how
we’ve been lost for years
but no one’s come to find us.
Dusk it seems
is the lesser of two evils,
midnight is just too mysterious.
Wrapped Up In HerselfWhen she was six I came home one afternoon early and found her in my room with my box of art supplies upside down and my collection of long peacock feathers glued to her belt to make a lackluster skirt. The feathers were longer than her legs so when she backed away from me, surprised that I had come home, she tripped and smacked her head against my desk. There was an orange half moon on the horizon of the wood always after that. The funny thing was, I hadn't been angry in the first place. Seven days later she told me she had stolen the peacock feathers because she'd been learning about them in school. Her teacher had told her that peacocks were the most beautiful of all of the animals, and she told me that she wanted to be beautiful too. That night I'd tucked her quilt around her, kissed her sore little forehead and told her; you are already beautiful. I understood how she felt.More Like This
When she had just turned seventeen I caught her again. It was Christmas and I had come home a day earlier th
In Dark Silencea pile of exiled leavesMore Like This
and a grief-stricken moonset
the secrets of fireflies.
A stranger to gravity, sometimes
trees know how to be brave,
where the stars collide.
torches just cause firessometimes i talkMore Like This
to the darkness
because he's the
Who Are You - II - KathrynODriscollI am gallbladder andMore Like This
the rubber taste of my own tongue -
I am a kidney stone,
a heart murmur
and a half digested ball of dust.
I am, in sum,
every part of me
that I couldn't give away
to help someone else.
CompassionWhen the father found his daughterMore Like This
Lying with tears in her eyes,
He scorned and said, “Now do get up,
And never again let me see you cry.”
The sister said, “Each time we see you weeping
We know it’s just your own fault,”
And they told her all her wounds would heal
If they mixed the blood with a bit of salt.
All the words cut through the girl,
And she begged to know what she’d done wrong
But the mother only stared at her
As though miserable silence would make her strong.
Then she said with icy resolve,
"Just you wait and see.
You’ll thank me when you’ve grown callous and cold,
When you’re bitter and heartless like me.”
The girl looked up at her family and said:
“You don’t know that that is true.”
And they laughed and mocked as she declared,
“I will never be like you.”
He Comes with the RainRain slides down Yesteryear Antiques' cheap stained-glass windows in lazy swirls and spirals. Tracking a drop with narrowed green eyes, Shay wrinkles her nose and steps around a haphazard stack of Life magazines. A sheaf of her thick auburn hair falls across the right half of her face. Pulling a hair tie from her wrist, she scoops the locks into a messy bun. The lights flicker, thunder rumbling. Shay glances again at the rain's path on the windows. Turning to a set of dresser drawers, she rifles through pens, paper clips, and crayola markers. A wad of teal tissue paper crinkles under her fingers and Shay pulls it from the drawer, unwrapping its contents. A pair of hand-carved bamboo chopsticks, topped with snarling dragons, roll onto her palm. She pokes them through her bun before diving back into the drawer.More Like This
"I could have sworn there was a--" A flashlight skips across the debris and Shay snatches it up. Grinning, she clicks the button. Clicks it again. Frustrated, her grin fading, she
The Curious and Peculiar Tale of the Simonov TwinsThe Curious and Peculiarly Tragic Tale of the Simonov TwinsMore Like This
I have done most of my post-doctorate work alongside Dean Eroslide as he ran Harry Loaine School for Boys. It was a tiny little establishment, set up in a series of pathways and cottages that made up the dormitories and the 'holistic' and 'traditional', designed to accommodate Dean Eroslide's philosophy of natural living: 'clean and untouched life energy regulates all chakras and promotes a positive educational environment'. Needless to say, Harry Loaine School for Boys was a parent's last resort, when everything from Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to Interventions and to Involuntary Hospitalization was never enough. The Dean had no degree of any sort other than a few licenses for Chakra healing and Reiki, so the entirety of the upkeep of the facility remained on the shoulders of these desperate parents--and of course the government kickbacks the School received for keeping me as a full time Child Psychologist
iTouchSometimes I don't know what to say,More Like This
and then I look at you,
I look into those blooming sunflower eyes
and I know
that I don't have to say a thing,
but... I want to,
I want to say everything
and I wonder
if my words move you the way
you move me.
Can you feel the beating of my heart
through your fingertip
as it glides down the touchscreen,
as it slides over my words,
does your spine pick up radiating waves,
does your mind comprehend
does your heart resound
like a thunderstorm
as every letter drips down
and spills upon the page
in digital smudges
with your name hidden
in the white gap between each word?
I've never quite figured out
just how I am supposed to give you love
how I can ever possibly translate
a love that is wider than the sky
in a string of stanzas
that stretch no further
than a few inches before your eyes,
but I keep trying
because I want you to know,
the way you already do,
that every road leads to you.
Can I change the world
with the words that I write
Dear Daddy's GirlDear Naive 15,More Like This
You're ignorant as Hell.
You dress in baggy blue jeans, wear an oversized hoodie every day, and never let your hair down. Students at school, and even your mom, think you're gay… and you don't even know.
All of your classmates blame you for a burn book that circulated after that Mean Girls movie. Everyone thinks you're a jealous bitch and secretly they mock you. How can you not see that?
Your teachers are all positive that you cut yourself and that you're always on drugs. Even now you have no idea why they ask you to take your jacket off during class. Could it be that you always wear long sleeves?
It's okay, sweetheart. I had to find out the hard way, too.
Right now you're probably wishing your dad was home. He's the only one that will read your stories and tell you how creative you are. You don't have to beg him to watch movies with you, and he'll listen to your favorite songs without calling you suicidal. Right now, living wi
I Didn't Mean, I Didn't MeanI didn't mean to make you cringeMore Like This
when I mentioned the strength of your shoulders
- didn't want to see them fold in
to protect vulnerable organs
from words protruding rudely
out of disguised compliments.
I didn't mean, I didn't mean -
I didn't mean for you to shut your eyes
when I admired the specific shade of chamoisee
- didn't want to see you wince
as you prepared for an unfelt slap
and the long-lasting sting
of a bare, misshapen insult.
I didn't mean, I didn't mean -
I didn't mean for you to laugh
when I said that I find you beautiful
- didn't want to see you shake
and hear your voice choke
on the ridiculousness
of a misspent commendation.
I didn't mean, I didn't mean -
I didn't mean for you to hiss a sharp inhale
when I smiled at the sound of your voice
I didn't mean, I didn't mean -
I didn't mean for you to frown
when I stared at you too long
I didn't mean, I didn'
October SunsetDaylight and indiglow in the descentMore Like This
Heaven-sent and too soon to
Pass in a flash of fury softly
Singing the lament of the
See it pass to that last lost
Unknown where the
Unearthly sun yet descends
And leaves us to our memory of
A Forgotten Sunset.
Milky Waymy body is a road mapMore 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.
Lingerhow can i move forward,More Like This
when the fingerprints of my insecurities
are still lingering within my chest,
pressing against my ribs like piano keys?
i am just waiting, for the day,
when the saddest parts of me
are overcome with songs of serenity.
Take ThisTake this kiss upon your hand,More Like This
For the ones who starved themselves,
Because "ugly" was written all over their mirrors,
Because "fat" was the only thing in their way.
Take this hug around your shoulders,
For the ones who cried themselves to sleep,
Because, unlike everyone else,
Their pillows kept their secrets.
Take this wish for your success,
For the ones with wounds blanketing their wrists,
Because physical pain gave feeling,
And feeling was so hard to find.
Take this whisper in your ear,
For the ones who live through pain,
Through sorrow, through regret,
Through loneliness in crowded rooms,
Through nightmares and judgement and hatred...
Take these words, darling,
These words I say to you.
Stay strong. Never give up. Keep breathing.
Let's keep going,
For the ones who starved themselves,
For the ones who cried themselves to sleep,
For the ones with wounds blanketing their wrists,
For the ones who live through pain,
For the ones forced to survive...
And for the on
GalateaSometimes, she is my mistressMore Like This
Sneaking in through my window and seducing me out of sleep
She keeps me up past sunrise, whispering sweet promises in my ear
Silencing me with her smoldering passion, stripping me until inspiration strikes
She makes me sing, until the sheets are slathered in a thick skin of poetry
Sending shivers up my spine and igniting my senses with her ghostly fingers
She is a lover and a shadow, nowhere to be seen when I wake
Sometimes, she is my psychosis
Suffocating and strong, I can do nothing but submit to her grasp
She seethes, like a snake constricting around me until my sight blurs to smoke
Slowly, she consumes me with sick reverence and searing obsession
She stifles me because she refuses to be restrained, yet I long for her kiss
Severing haggard breaths from my lips, leaving me stunned and aching
She is a succubus and a nightmare, haunting me
Sometimes, she is my saint
Stifling sobs against my shoulder, shaking me until my tears start to fall
She has so much
JittersMARTYMore Like This
Ok. This mess is called Jitters.
Teacher gave me a one-word name
On the first day of the third grade.
She labeled me with my condition
And so sparked a life-long tradition
Of insecurity and anxiety, cyclical
Critical hits dealt to my clinical tics
By cynical pricks so I set adrift
Across a rift between me and every other fucking kid I ever dared not encounter, fearing the ridicule they would pursue.
A few years later we went to the zoo.
A tarantula, gargantuan, yet trying to hide
from our view in a viewing tank
With sandy banks and small cacti
Yet we could not avert our childish eyes.
“True,” said teacher,
“You’re probably less afraid of her
than she is of you.”
Classmates nonetheless crinkled noses and said ew.
But meekly I whispered, “I’m just like you.”
Wish I were as sneaky, lord knows I’m as creepy,
people think I’m freaky, but I’m just like you.
Dad got me a baby tarantula that year.
I gave him the sam
How to beat procrastination (part 2)Most of the excuses for not drawing is lacking of ideas. On part 1 of this journal I explained why I find it useful to keep a notebook with you, and to write down your ideas whenever possible.More Like This
This second part is about developing the habit of drawing. Hope you find it useful!
Create the habit of drawing
First thing to know about creating new habits is that it works kinda like inertia law:
"An object at rest will remain at rest unless acted on by an unbalanced force. An object in motion continues in motion."
Which means that the more you postpone your drawings the more you'll feel like delaying them. This procrastination abyss can be endless. For instance, I didn't draw anything in 2013 until the end of August when I bought my fi
How to beat procrastination (part 1)As I said on a previous submission, I'm planning to make some tutorials on the upcoming December. Before that, however, I feel like I can help on another subject, which comes before even starting your drawing: Procrastination. I mean, procrastination towards your own drawings.More Like This
If you're not familiar with this word:
pro-cras-ti-na-tion |prəˌkrastəˈnāSHən, prō-|
"the action of delaying or postponing something."
Why am I talking about this?
Well, a year ago I used to be a professional procrastinator. I've imposed the 365 Days of Doodles challenge to myself for this particular reason.
While procrastination is to some degree a natural phenomenon and can’t be completely eradicated, you can use the following strategies to get in the habit of getting drawings done.
Mind that these are not golden rules or such, just strategies that work fo
My ConfessionI never really thought about my lack of sexual interest before society confronted me with it.More Like This
It took me quite a while to notice guys as anything more than "other people", and when I did, it was more a group pressure thing than real interest.
I even had a boyfriend then, but not because I particularly liked the guy. Having a boyfriend in your teens is a status symbol. Have one, you're cool, have none, you're not.
Of course, back then things weren't that clear to me. I went with the flow.
For a very long time, I wondered what is wrong with me that I don't enjoy sex, that It makes me feel awkward and that I have no desire to go out and date. Society made me believe it is wrong to be like that. I was ashamed of myself, of my flaws and my obvious failure of being a full-fledged human being.
You define yourself through others. You try to figure out who you are, and you look at others for guidance, for something you can identify with. But you only limit yourself with that, and not finding si
Malta- The Happy IslandOn the day off I was sitting on the table in a cheap apartment complex for travelers with multi-people shared room where I lived with my friend. Despite of feeling like a melted chocolate every day and having wet hands ( and hey, my Nesquick chocolate which I bought from store already got melted too!), I tried to sit down in a public table to work on a commission.More Like This
Surprisingly, in Malta there are BARELY any air conditioners. I swear, there days are hotter than in Florida. And we have the worst room because... even it doesn't have open-able windows. Sleeping was a pure nightmare. So hot and hard to breath comfortably. I felt like in a can. Or no, even worse, in a plastic bag.
Oh yes, that's the best word to describe.
Wear a plastic bag on your head and try to breathe during warm days.
After the first sleepless night I wanted nothing but return back to the North.
Ok, the first attempt of working...
Some Traditional Wizards #9 + Game of art lifeI want to leave you with some magicians, they have the privilege to own magical pencils, erasers, tortillions, paintbrushes, sheets, canvas... and hands. Maybe some are a bit crazy, but support them!More Like This
Summer-Time by andrianartThe lone wolf by AuroraWienhold
Oil painting by Leonid Afremov by LeonidafremovMemoirs of a Geisha by AuroraWienholdPainting Peonies with Beetroot and Tea by HeliocyanThe Ballerina by William-OxerUltramarine by ja5on
Sun Tea in Darkness by turningshadowspace touch by AndriyMarkivPeace by Jean-PierreLeclercq
Nanuk by Fuz-Caforio-ArtI diddly done do'd it by Onalew
Pencil drawing of Gabriella by nimraRobin Williams Art by lcbaileyElegant beauty in graphite: by markstewart
Stephania - 4 by caiusaugustusUnion Nexus by iSaBeL-MRDyxtreme 3 by caiusaugustus
Wild Stark by Azany
5 ways to be more positiveDear, deviantart fellow artistsMore Like This
How to reach the happiness, how to have and maintain the positivity in our creative lives?
It's not an easy thing to stay positive all time. Trust me, I know... so here are some of my thoughts about the topic and I hope that they might be helpful.
1. Get away from negative people
Stay away from those who don't believe in you, who only show up in your lifes when they need something. As mentioned in the latest journal by DamaiMikaz - some people are just pretending to be your friends in order to use you or your skills (don't let them). Be aware of those who are trustworthy and it's said that "person will become the average of their five closest friends".. so be cautious and surround yourself with like-minded people, ones who support an
10 beneficial things artists should ask themselvesHere's 10 important questions to ask yourself. Read them constantly as a checklist to make sure your are heading in the right direction and using your artistic potential.More Like This
1. What motivates you to create art? Write down your answer and think about how you can use this very important information.
2. What kinds of information have you been putting on the internet? The internet is the new resume. If I can find dumb pics or comments from you then other people can too...
3. Does your art express something interesting? Great art means something to its viewers, not just its creator.
4. Does failure push you forward? How you deal with failure will determine how skillfull you will become.
5. Do you enjoy arguing or flaming people's work? If you are the type of person to hate on others, it will come back to you. Especially with the internet and all the social networking.
6. Do you try out new methods/materials/subjects that might be unconfortable at first? Success is inevitable if you always choo
A rescue dogA few days ago, when I was at open field work in another city 200km away from Warsaw, working as off-road/trail photographer as usually- I got a call about a husky dog in desperate need that is located in MY area. Fully starved dog (just bones), having severe skin issues, bleeding and leaking mold off from skin and fur is falling off found on streets laying down- and needs immediate health attention. I'm not anymore active volunteer in my animal rescue foundation due to life changes, but my instincts of rescuing animals came back. I've responded to the animal foundation and took responsibility of picking up and transporting a husky in need.More Like This
I had to cut off from work, and ummm the issue was… I went there with my co-worker whith his car. Everything sounded perfect, that dog was in need to be transported to Warsaw by today which is good for me cause after work we are driving back to Warsaw.
Buuuut the problem was… A nice, shiny BMW car.
My co-workers beloved car, plus h
How to get better at artPeople keep asking me what programs i use, and what program is the best for drawing and what brushes i used for this artwork or that. Those are legitimate questions, sure, but not entirely accurate. There are differences between programs and brushes, but in the end, they are all tools. They are tools artists use to put their imagination onto a canvas. Just like a traditional artist can use 10 different brushes to paint an artwork, or just one single brush, digital art is the same in that regard. There is no one brush that can achieve an effect that none other can. Sure it's a little more difficult if you're using one brush type to draw everything, but not impossible. Artists might have hundreds of brushes in Photoshop but in truth, we use 2-5 brushes the most and those hundreds only in special cases. I personally use a hard brush and a soft brush for 90% of things, what i do change is the opacity and turn the pressure on and off, change the size etc.More Like This
And the most common
PureThe thing about getting known is that people say funny things to you. Most of it is bullshit. Some of it is true, and some of it is downward inconsiderate. Some of it does make me think, though.More Like This
One of those things said to me, a while ago, was that I wasn't so much of an artist.
That, despite the fact that I was decently known on the internet nowadays, I didn't make actual great art.
(The actual comment phrased it somewhere along the lines of "famous as hell, but still draws like a college art student")
And you know what I thought? This guy actually did have a solid point. The way he worded it down was just... not so clever.
Throughout my life I've seen people with great skills in everything. I've learned soon enough that people typically see themselves as either a left-brain or a right-brain thinker, meaning so much that their either go with logic or intuition, and are often either good with numbers or social skills/art (that come with that). While many of these tests whe
Slumber"There's someone who I live with,More Like This
With whom we share a head.
And when I lie to slumber,
He wakens me with dread.
To paralyze then analyze,
Regrets he never led,
So deaf from earshot,
Even silence is misled.
But there's one I'd like to live with,
With whom I'd try to share my bed,
And when I lie to slumber,
She is carried from my head."
Poets have the loneliest hearts.I drink morphineMore 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.
SplatDid you know that now,More Like This
And I mean right now,
That I have stopped caring
I have stopped caring for one specific thing,
I have stopped caring about waiting for you
These words have no hatred
Their purpose shouldn't intend any pain,
And they hold a thought from me deep within,
Did you know that it took me a while to wake up?
I was so drowned in these possibilites,
I was washed in the pipe-dreams,
And then I was thrown into the heart-breaking voids
It drove me crazy,
And I had hopes, even if I thought some of them were foolish,
Those hopes made me still believe that one possibility,
Then there was a shift that changed these hopes,
And I had finally opened my eyes
It had hurt for a small amount of time,
No later than a night,
And I kind of wish that I never became conscious,
But it was best for me either way
You still hold some of my hopes and such,
But I just have to be aware,
And I just need to help my heart with my head,
And think before I fall
Because at the end
I fell down into the dep
Just MeI'll never be the popular chickMore Like This
Who everyone loves and admires
You can call me what you like
Knowing you it won't be true
A bitch a dyke a freak
All titles forced upon me
I've always been the random kid
That doesn't fit in anywhere
Plain simple and calm
Vivid complexity running wild
When you think you've got me pinned
I do something unexpected
Molding myself to fit what you want
Is something I do best
The only one who really knows me
Is my shadow on the ground
Painting it OverPaint glides on, soft and smoothMore Like This
Covering the blemishes I've made in my room
Each and every one of them vanishing as it dries
Staring at the wall watching myself cover my past
Everything in here irrelevant as of now
Standing and gazing, watching it fade
Weight of the world comes crashing down
Everything I've done, everything I've said
Out of anger, love, jest, simplicity
Putting myself on the line, putting myself in your sight
Taking myself away, hiding from everyone
One simple statement slices through like a knife
Ripping the paint, creating a hole
The insecurity, cruelness of it all
Like a punch to the face
Jerking back, I withdraw into my shell
Pick up my paint brush
Dutifully doing the job I've been assigned
I slowly, quietly
Cover the imperfections
Meaningful MessagesThe only good poems in the worldMore Like This
Are those that leave no words to say
The only poetry that counts
Are those that take your breath away
The only words that really matter
Are the ones on your mind after today
The only rhyming syllables of great
In your heart, they stay
The rhymes that sound as music
In your head they play
The most meaningful of messages
Are those that help you on your way
The words that really blend together
Keep thought and feelings in delay
The works worth being recognized
Representing some obscure cliche
While repeating in your mind
Leaves a deeper message on display
The only great poetry in the world
Leave unthought words to say
102Imagine all the lillys in the field.More Like This
Imagine all of the love that they could yeild,
If personal beings they become,
Look out momma! Get your gun!
I'm glad I'm not a lilly in the field.
Imagine all the pick-ups and the cars.
Imagine them all golfing, getting pars.
If personal beings they become,
Look out Pa-Pa! Get your gun!
I'm Glad I'm not a pick-up or a car.
Imagine all the quaters and the dimes.
Imagine all of them commiting crimes.
If personal beings they become,
Look out sister! Get your gun!
I'm glad I'm not a quater of a dime.
A Single RoseInto the sickening void, through the nightmarish swirls of time, and across the seas of emotion that plague us, I had lost all hope.More Like This
There was nothing to be found in this dark decaying flurry of greys and gloomy pastels.
I truged on, weary and hollow, for there seemed to be nothing that could ease this burden that had been placed upon me.
Then, alas I saw it!
Among the grime and graffitti that littered this place, was one single rose.
The rose's shimmering brillance paled in comparison to this desperate atmosphere.
I found myself enthralled by it's beauty.
It was this rose that opened my eyes to one glamourous thing.
I smiled and picked up the crimson beauty and carried it away with me.
As I had found hope, and was not going to let it go.
For I did not long to go back to the horrid decay that was the past.
Instead, I let hope show me the way to the light of tomorrow.
Soulful EyesWhen you look at someone, what is the first thing you see? Eyes are what catch my attention first. They're the window to a person's soul. Their deepest, darkest secrets are hidden can be revealed, just by looking at you. Some people say that you can see everything through a people's eyes...their dreams...their past...their obsessions. But what if you didnt' want to look into a person's eyes? What if there is something so dark, that it terrifies you to even think about it. What if you didn't want someone to see into your soul....what if you had no choice?More Like This
Green Traveler's WordsCome,More Like This
Sit with me for a moment,
Let me tell you a story,
Not a fable,
Or an epic poem,
Just a story,
No I won't talk long,
I just want you to heed my words,
Let them sink in,
Let you taste the words and their meanings,
So here we are,
In a land similar to this,
The tree on that hill,
The largest thing to see for miles,
There are no towering buildings,
No cars racing down the broad black avenues,
No people peddling drugs or just trying to get a dollar,
No that does't exist in this story,
We are walking in a world,
A strange place,
A place that seems totally untouched by the hand of man,
Let me tell you the truth,
This is the world untouched by man,
The sky is so blue,
And when the sun goes down,
Well let me tell you the sight,
There are billions of galaxies staring down at you,
You feel as though this is heaven,
The world totally in its purest form,
Policemen and criminals,
Just open space,
White, puffy clouds,
Purity in savagery,
A Wedding GuestAs I sat in black as a wedding guestMore Like This
Oh what emotions lashed at my aching chest,
Alas! If I could free through poetry
The words that would bleed me dry of thee,
Nay, humble letters could never say
What my heart felt after a lifetime of flay,
And the dream that was so dulcet and deep
Was but another's to cherish and keep,
Where among all our golden days
Did I lose creation's propitous rays?
And now under the shade of darkest sable
I realized life was no lover's fable,
All our days and all our years
That bore along both smiles and tears
Were priceless cherubic memories
Or just wildflowers in the breeze,
And so I sat amidst the cheer
As cheerful as one could appear,
Yet was I now, rootless as a cloud,
Just another face in the crowd?
What crueler fate could this life lend
Before it's requisite blissful end,
To make a man play his part
And celebrate the breaking of his heart.
From the marshy corner of my eye
I saw her standing meek and shy
And woe on me for keeping my seat
And grounding my
glowthere are days i don't want the sun to set on us; where we should race it, rolling westward at an unstopping momentum, bringing erasure to the day's beginnings as we flood toward an unreachable end.More Like This
it's a day like this when i realise we're impossible -- you, with your baked-clay shoulders, squeezed tight and compact, small but so present, you, with your brier of black bristle encompassing the two lips, softest rose, bringing nature back to intimacy.
it makes me catch fire, in our setting sun, to see a desert-bright radiance reflect in your room. it's when you change your clothes behind the wooden door of your dresser; when you return from a shower, a rainstorm bringing me beauty and the complex scent of a clean man; when you dim your light to match the moon's as you strip off the day and safely stow away a secret within me.
the sun sets too quickly for us to catch it. the longer you hold me in copper embrace, the sooner we reflect the short daylight we are given.
Darkness Inside MeI've woken in screamsMore Like This
And I've woken in cries
The things that I've seen
When I've closed my blue eyes
They would drive the sane crazy
They would crush the strong hearts
Make the grown crying babies
Tear the healthy apart
My mind is a diamond
Made of pure, flawless blood
Far above and beyond
The Earths life, the Earths love
The darkness inside me
Is enough to snuff stars
Though it's so rarely seen
Believe me it's a part
It's a part that's so evil
But it's used all the time
'Cause it helps me to build
Countless worlds that are mine
'Cause each world needs darkness
Just the make the light strong
Another thing fought to harness
As the soldiers march on
teenage lover's lamentI wish we were adultsMore Like This
so that you could come over
and sit and watch as I did boring paperwork for my boring job
So that you could microwave yourself dinner
from the leftovers in my fridge
So that we could make love without hurry
and you could spend the night.
Role Model Sweet girl, I smile every time you say how you and I are the same as you mimic me exactly with those doe eyes of yours, but I cry every time you tell me how someday you want to be just like me. That's the last thing that I want for you, my dear one.More Like This
I never want you to destroy yourself daily, to salvage the ruins of your ego, pride, and self esteem just to break them all to pieces again. I never want for you to wrack your ribs with doubt and feed yourself denial. You will always be beautiful. I never want you to become so afraid of failure that you are too afraid to live.
I never want you to experience loss or illness and let it steal a day from you. I never want despair to touch you, to swallow you in its darkness, and deep within the black let the madness take you and convince you that your life is no longer worth living and t
Never AgainNever again is what she saidMore Like This
Never again would it occur
As she sat alone and bled
None had hands to offer
Out of compassion or out of pity
She sat like a lonesome mourner
All alone in the cruel city
In a cold and dirty corner
Never again is what she said
Never again would it occur
Looking paler than the dead
Sitting alone on life's border
Pretty eyes reddened by tears
Pale skin reddened by blood
As she reminisced all her fears
Alone on the cruel city mud
Never again is what she said
Never again would it occur
Bathed in her blood so red
When finally found by mother
Pale skin reddened by a final kiss
Before the lid shut tight
Pretty eyes shut in painful bliss
A lone coffin in the night
Have FaithShe keeps her head above the water.More Like This
her only necessary components.
He presses his lips to her bare neck,
and whispers words
causing her to melt into his arms.
His fingers gently graze
over her broken skin,
starting from her left wrist
up and up to her shoulder.
She writhes beneath
his faint touch;
watching as his fingers
trace each and every line
of her past.
She murmurs her apologies
into his chest;
his fingers intertwine
He looks deep
into her brown eyes,
searching for what will never exist
without the aid
of her one love,
her only love;
A diamond in the rough UKUS- Aladdin themedWhite walls.More Like This
And white sand on the beaches, being beaten by the untiring waves of the infinite ocean.
That was all he seemed to ever see.
Steel eyes stared out into the space where the chilly blue water leaned on the bright sky, but still this wonder remained unknown to him though he was already eighteen. He could see it from the balcony hanging on his tall room, white bricks piecing it together like a puzzle that kept him in his cage. He spent lots of his time here alone. Here, where the salty wind embraced him in its firm warmth.
"Your highness," A voice spoke with a strange, almost snake-like tongue. But he had grown so used to it, the sound had become one of the few voices he heard enough to recognize the speaker without seeing them.
"Gilbert," He replied simply without turning around. He just kept leaning on the railing of his balcony, staring out towards the ocean. "What is it?"
"Your highness," The albino repeated again. "Your father wishes to speak t
ImagineI watched you sitting there, in front of the window, aloneMore Like This
with the scent of night, as if you were caught in
a moonbeam spider web, alone
with pen and paper
I love to watch you
as if your words needed protection
With this absent-minded look
in your ocean blue eyes
which see more than all the others see - maybe
they see things more clearly, or rather
they see them how they really are
I love to watch you
breathing life into dead things
and turning sentences into melodies
How you´re able to give the little things significance
and write down what life keeps quiet about
You can make the stones cry and
bring a smile on the lips of the inconsolables,
apply a plaster on a broken heart with a couple of sentences,
you can drown out the ticking of the clock
and stop the world for a handful of seconds
You paint rainbows across thunderstorm-shadowed faces
and jot down the notes of the songs only hearts can sing,
you can touch my body more intensely with a few letters
Eyeless JackTwo wounds, weeping ichor-blackMore Like This
My head and heart, I can’t go back
I only wanted to be your friend
Everyone always ran away from me
Now, then, always until I cut myself free
I received a fresh start from my end
Scalpel and suture, jars and vials chill
I read through my body parts like a will
With this blade, my fear I rend
They hate me, just like before
People are silly, life was a bore
As for me, I am on the mend
.you're afraidMore Like This
to let anyone
stoke the fire
in your chest
you will burn
.he stood on the shore,More Like This
and told the sea he loved her;
the jealous wind tore his
voice in two
.throw my bonesMore Like This
on the fire just
to warm up your
there and wonder
why you're always
Sing to meSing to me the songs of fireMore Like This
running wild all through your veins.
Sing to me sweet songs of freedom
flowing from a heart untamed.
Sing to me the songs of sadness
the songs of those who still remain.
Sing to me of those who made it
standing strong through all the pain.
Sing a song of beauty,
burning through the night.
Sing of sun and wildfire.
Sing of candles bright.
Sing to me of darkness
of wind, of snow, of hail.
Sing to me of cowardice.
Sing of those who fail.
Sing to me the song of dawn
dancing on the sky.
Sing of new beginnings;
second chances ere we die.
TroyYou have too much time on your hands, Love,More Like This
folding paper cranes with broken fingers,
wishing to see northern lights in the eyes of strangers.
There are no lions between your bed sheets
who understand your hunger better than I-
You are licking my wounds; one with the wild.
I swear it's you behind these eyelids- untamed
and desired by this lonely poetic canvas
stained with blood, ink, and words I can't fucking say.
You look like a Goddess standing there reading my skin
quiet and shameless, proud of the gaping hole in my chest.
I know it then, like I know my own counterclockwise heart;
I should never trust my own kind.
"I'll build you up, my Troy, just to tear you down again."
And I whispered please, please, please...
1 Corinthians 13:4-8aLove is patientMore Like This
love is kind
It does not envy
it does not boast
Signs that read God hates fags
it is not proud
What are we doing?
It is not rude
This isn't what he told us
it is not self-seeking
He told us to love
it is not easily angered
To love our fellow man
it keeps no record of wrongs
No matter who they are
Love does not delight in evil
No matter what they've done
but rejoices with the truth
But after all the prayer
It always protects
After all the study
We still can't remember
The Greatest commandment
That Jesus left us
Love never fails.
PaganI want to be pagan.More Like This
I want to love the earth like I am her daughter.
I want to be free and untethered.
I want to be able to worship whoever
or whatever I want.
I want to love everything.
I do not want that you should hate me.
I do not want to be forced to be faithful.
I do not want to have forced allegiance to your strict god.
I do not want to be told I am going to hell
or to heaven.
I do not want to be judged.
I love the trees and the ocean.
I love everything that goddess earth has made.
I love my family.
I love my friends,
and my enemies as well.
I love the pagan earth.
I want to be pagan.
Mermaid SongI have tried to love you.More Like This
But you have become
little more than an evening in pale watercolors
the shadow of Monet.
I have decided to leave the lilies as they are.
Perhaps in later years, with desperation,
fearing the thinness of my thin limbs,
the creaking of my spider fingers,
I will go to wander those gardens again,
hoping for the promise of Eden,
clutching beads in my weary fist.
For now, you are fleeting as mermaid song,
brief as tall spires in pink and green beneath the sea
I can never touch them.
Our connection fades,
a violet mirage
disappearing within the swells.
A wave breaks
the silver froth wipes the sand
clean and perfectly brown.
The Empty ChairThe evening breeze and the extra cup,More Like This
A lonely shadow upon the ceiling
And all things “destined” on the up:
Absent from a funeral of feeling.
The cloak of a Sunday in the sun;
Each passing taxi reeks of a plan:
In lieu of nothing, the day is won
Affords to think a better man.
Killing moments, playing tag with the mind:
The first paramour of pagan day;
A second honeymoon of lost fears can find
A love for that familiar blue Bombay.
The erratic world can be rather still:
A man and his betrothed corner of air
A deadbeat verse on a diner bill
Wooing the crevices of the empty chair.
HazelI fell in love with the wayMore Like This
she looked at the back of her hands
when something upset her,
which often happened.
PARALLELMore Like This
I'm living twice in one life
I'm feeling empty, a hole
I'm feeling sharp, like a knife
I'm growing fast, I'm too old
A deadly game that I'm in
there's no life within
I cannot die, I can't live
and here again I begin
here it's possible!
I fight alone with my sword
I'm feeling down, so cold
I have the power, I hold
I'm here alone, not a word
I hear a voice, who is he?
There's no one looking for me
I don't believe what I see
I cannot feel, yet I'm free!
here it's possible!
I'm lying down in daze
I feel asleep, but I'm awake
The room is fading in haze
I see her there on the lake
I'm loosing twice the same day
I'm sleeping once for two fates
I'm going now, but I'll stay
I'm failing all of my dates!
can't be possible!
I am a slave and I'm bored
but that's the kingdom I hold
I am the master, the lord
I cannot rule my world!
They're hunting me, I'm in fear
but it's so silent here
I look behind, they are near
I feel no pain, not a tear
I Hope You KnowI never reallyMore Like This
You didn't know me,
But how could I
You had a hard life
You had to cope
It was not your fault
They stole your Hope
But then you came here
You were told to
She dragged you along
Wouldn't leave You
But then your health failed
And the tests showed
Something too scary
For you to Know
We told you you're sick
There was no lie
Just not the whole truth
But how could I
You were positive
But He above,
He had greater plans
Made out of
Dead languages and bitter teaWe were directly opposed,More Like This
circling each other in a confining pool,
my mouth seeking yours, but only finding
the fragments of composure you left in your wake.
"Nunc scio quid sit Amor",
you said once, and I agreed with you,
then looked up what the hell you meant
as soon as I was alone.
We went stargazing when we were hungry
and fed ourselves with the names
and the glow of all the stars
that spread themselves out to tease us.
"This is what I see in you," you flattered,
pointing at the sky while the wetness of the grass
soaked into our backs.
"You're that string of pearls, right there,
hanging around the neck of the sky.
You are more than what I’ve been looking for,
more than anything I've ever tried to find,"
you painted stars and lies.
I left you job listings in the mornings,
and you told me my fortune,
in the bottom of my teacup.
We were directly opposed; I told you to leave if you wanted,
so on a night too cold for me to see the comfort in your dreams,
you left, gathering
Wake Up In a ForestWake up in a forest.More Like This
Take a look around.
Nothing in sight.
Not a path to be found.
I am alone.
Unsure what to do.
Everything is new
I'm so afraid.
I begin to cry.
I'm so lost.
Don't know why.
I need your strength.
Please help me.
Guide me though.
Give me eyes to see.
I'm still scared.
I wish I could hide.
At least I know.
You'll be at my side.
IronmanHear me read itMore Like This
My friends used to call William "Ironman" because the first time we kissed he got a nosebleed and the taste of his blood haunted me for a long time after it. We'd only been twelve years old and apparently the anxiety spiked his blood pressure to the point of combustion... I remember that when we were forced to take sex ed a few years later we were divided into separate classes for boys and girls, in case a diagram of an ovary was too risqué and we became animalistic and started clawing at each other in our seats, but nonetheless when our teacher Ms Jacobs had explained to us what an erection was in my mind all I could picture was the blood rushing to his nose and then the slash of cranberry across my blouse.
With the idea planted in his mind it didn't take long for William's hands to start wandering, but the image persisted. Every time I thought about just letting it happen I wondered what would happen if he got too excite
KATRINALIVES A MILEMore Like This
from the sea.
she is sallow as a beach.
she smells like rain,
or a wet earth,
with pale hair clipped
behind her head
she feels as though her hair
would be black. but it is
it is colorless
GIVES MY STOMACH
she doesn't speak.
she is silence.
i speak at her, mostly
and her eyes
look as though
they've been plucked
from a lynx
they are blue around the edges
the deep blue you find
at the edge of the sea,
if you've been out that far.
at the center they are green
light like a riptide.
they tug you in.
unmoving, and calculating
i said to some
gave me head.
her hands are too far dug
into the coast of spain
for her to reach me,
far too eager
for my composure.
she'd suck me dry
like her mothers did
the caspian sea,
like the fields of sahara
once lush with green.
she is a barefoot girl.
she moans like the shorefront
in the dead of night.
i've made love to
There's a god on my streetThere's a god on my streetMore Like This
glorious and radiant
blind and crippled
begging for loose change.
Everyday I drop him four quarters
Ping Ping Ping Ping
they sound in god's cup
and I'm sure they ring
like mellifluous bells
for the world to hear
from my disgusting street.
However I don't stay with this god
nor does he stay with me
he stays on this street
this street is his home
and my home is elsewhere
away from such a disgraceful hovel.
There's a god on my street
however once I leave him
he will not see me
he sees nothing at all
does nothing at all
living of the four glorious pings
which I bless upon him.
There's a god on my street
starving and bare
a god which has nothing to live for.
No one will bless his name
as he passes
as he cries
CryingBaby cries for the mommyMore Like This
Boy cries for the attention
Teen cries for the confusion
Man cries for the reality
Senior cries for the regret
Deceased cries for the living
No matter who we are
Powerful or weak
Happy or depressed
Rich or poor
Popular or alone
We all weep together
One way or another
.sometimesMore Like This
in my head
curl up in
the beat of
Don't StepDon’t step to meMore Like This
I may wear a frilly pink skirt, but I will TAKE YOU in a fight.
Not even because I’m angry, I could just use the exercise
In humility, so throw me your best haymaker, and I’ll take it, because I’ve never had a bone too beautiful to break it. No, throw me to the ground and I’ll memorise the sound because it’s profound that you think your pride can push ME around.
They say words are the way to make a man break. But while you’re focussed on finding a phrase to prove your ego more great, you won’t see my hands palming your hate. Making mental memos of words, mementos of the curse. Those things you think will hurt me that I’ll later ridicule in verse.
Don’t step to me, no.
In fact, you should fear me, my foe.
I fight like a COWARD.
I fight like I fear every moment of pain, like a boy whose stuffed tiger was taken away, like no eye-gouge is too cruel for someone in my way. This isn’t a weekend spar, a
curioushis parents called him will, a condensed version for william. to me, "will" was the constant friday nights of his curved thighbone in the midnight air against mine, and scintillating neon lights and 80's music that were etched inside our pupils like crossfires.More Like This
david bowie was singing to me through my headphones, and i mumbled to him about will and my uneven forehead, (my skin wasn't clear anymore, either) and how will and i held hands in public restaurants and how my lips were so chapped that they peeled when we first kissed-- but i was seventeen, i had purple constellations doodled on my french homework, and during algebra class i sketched green eyes with thick black eyelashes that were distinctly his.
their expectations of you were standard by their own means--they wanted a husky boy with aftershave smeared on the palms on his hands, and on saturdays they imagined you with black oil decorated on your cheeks like a lit up christmas tree holding up your hands and furiously kicking <i>
The Sun and the Rain (poem)More Like This
The sun was a pretty girl;
Dressed in ribbons and bows.
Each day she brightened up the earth
With her crimson orange glow.
The rain was cold and bitter;
Friends with the sleet and snow.
His heart hung heavy with misery,
His songs were full of woe.
One day they collided.
The sun said “Don’t you know?
The grey and cloudy tears will soon disappear;
I think you’re great just so.”
So up in the sky together
They let their love flow.
It leapt from their hearts, across the world
And became a rainbow.
Waiting on InspirationI see all these messengers,More Like This
Spreading their words and meanings.
And I'm sitting here,
With run on sentences,
Or empty pages,
And no coherency.
The Road Of YesterdayMore Like This
The Road Of Yesterday
These closed eyes have wept
Over the pain I've kept
Accepting I'll always be far from perfect
I'm tired- just too tired
A moment of peace is all I desire
Too long have I tried; too long have I endured
I just want to collapse
And let these be my last footsteps
Allow me to go where all tears are sent
I've always been out of breath
But I still continued to tread
And I feared to look in the eyes of death
I'm sore- just so sore
A final sunset is what I selfishly yearn
Too long have I searched; too long have I resided within the eye of the storm
I refuse to ultimately break
I don't want to believe in the flaws of my faith
I won't be swallowed by this void that I have made
As I reach the end of my despair
I realized that life's fractures can be repaired
And when I shed that last tear I let go of my fear
I Want to Get Out of HereI think I have grown in the shape of a squareMore Like This
That is the shape of my box.
My feet at my chest and my hands in my hair
bound with no keys and no locks.
Inside my box is cramped and tight,
And when I breathe it rattles.
During the daytime I see no light
In here I fight no battles.
My breath is stale and my hair is tangled,
All I know is the dark.
I fear that I am horribly mangled
From living conditions so stark.
I want to get out and see the ocean
For there is a world to see:
The sun and the moon and the stars in motion
All laid out for me.
Being stuck in a box is bad, I believe
For my muscles and my bones
But my body might fall apart if I leave:
This box is all I know.
In here I feel little sorrow or pain
Inside and out I'm numb.
I feel not the wind, nor the cold, nor the rain
In silence, I am dumb.
A terrible ache settles deep in my soul
Past limbs twisted far back
Shut away from the world, I can never be whole:
All that is living, I lack.
"How hateful, how horrid this box is!" I crie
Bipolar DisorderDear everybody,More Like This
I’m not just moody.
I have Bipolar Disorder.
I don’t choose to have this unbearable depression,
Where I sob uncontrollably and the most unpredictable times.
A sadness that paints your entire mind,
Down into your soul.
And you don’t know when it’s suddenly going to
Change, from being a terrifying unhappiness,
To being such a fantastic happiness
That you can’t even connect your thoughts with your own brain.
Where you challenge the world,
Because you feel bigger than a speck of dust for
The first time in your
It changes from being such an incredible mess of emotions
To being the creator of no emotion at all.
And soon, the lack of emotion
Starts to eat away at your heart.
And you don’t choose to…
But it turns into an
A sadness that paints your entire mind
Down into your soul.
This is Bipolar Disorder.
This is me.
This is who I am.
Aura: The RevolutionMore Like This
I will never live up to any other expectations
I will only just reach the place in life that's destined
Never again will I be a victim of impossible outcomes
Never again will I allow my self-respect to be disgraced and overcome
I am a prisoner no more
Discrimination became the martyr
I had to put an end to this war
I will not be walked on like I had been before
The future of a fearless life is what I now strive for
The source of my resolve has been built into my core
I believe what's right / To live my life
I'll reach for the light / And shine so bright
There's no limit to the sky / This smile never felt so fine
I never thought it'd be mine / So I'll take it as a sign
Time heals all wounds
It may get dark but the sun will rise soon
Hearts will fall sick and spirits will feel blue
But after the storm our pride will become immune
Fake How are you?More Like This
I am fine, thank you.
How was your weekend?
It was great, tons of fun!
Besides the nights I spent crying….
Are you sure you’re okay?
They Loved ItI was going to write another poem.More Like This
But they don’t take you seriously
When you’re being serious.
So I threw in the word “bitch”…
…And they loved it.
Poetryrandom wordsMore Like This
on the page
speak of broken dreams
and pent-up rage
ink from the pen
burn it all
Your Poetry Sucks.Poetic verse does not sleep contently within your bones.More Like This
You are not made of Shakespearean sonnets.
Metaphors do not cling to your teeth like snowdrops,
and similes do not lurk like assassins behind those false psychic eyes.
Your veins bleed nothing but red.
And your whispers,
they will never leave galaxies
along the length of spines.
So, Dear Heart,
you can take your stars,
your full moon romances,
the many, desperate love letters,
the gag-worthy cliches-
and eat them.
The Ocean DragonWintertime scathed the kingdom. Women cloaked in emerald fabric, their heads nestled against their chests, whilst men were sheltered beneath the skin of wild beasts, swords strapped to their sides. The warmest of fires froze, flames paralysed mid-dance. The young woman stood on the cusp of the oceanfront, her hair an entanglement of isabelline, colossal waves; a noiseless beacon in the centre of the storm – her fingers caressing the blue-scaled skin of her left arm. Her dress brushed the surface of the shoreline, wrinkling at the presence of the sea. Without restraint she would walk into the centre of the Dragon’s lair, deep within the ocean, and drown, suffocating against the vigorous waves of death.More Like This
Whilst her destiny was to drown in the Dragon’s clasp, she drowned daily in the stares of disgust – for who she was, for what she was. This endless prosecution led to the feverish removal of ultramarine scales, each implanted deep within
Things You DoThere's something about the things you do.More Like This
The words you say, the moves you make.
When your breath whispers against my ear
my heart races
my knees get weak.
There's nothing else I'd rather have
than your body pressed against mine.
It's nothing special, our interactions.
but there's something about you,baby..
I just can't miss.