To 13 Year Old MeChin upMore Like This
No need to pick up
The pistol, there's more than one way
To soothe the pain, you'll be missed and
You'll lose the love you would've had for this chick
I know his hand's heavy and you wish
You could escape, burst the levee
But it's best, bite your tongue and start forgetting
And you can't hold it in
So pick up the pen
And let it out that way
They can break your jaw, but not your will
You can walk away
Easier said than done
I know it, son
But five years does a lot to change
Your life, and it's worth waiting
A year through college at 18, while working
Way to bring home the bacon
Just wait and hold on and you'll see
13 year old me
360 Blind Eyes360° Blind EyesMore Like This
Those street corner pharmacies don't bother me...
cooking up that crack...
serving that black...
caramelizing those apples...
crystallizing that meth...
but at least it's not my kitchen...
He's Robin Hood...
on the level that Hollywood...
would be in contention...
terrorizing the scene...
mad scientist splicing the genes...
with killing machines...
but at least it's not my dimension...
They combine these positions...
with Columbine vision...
plus out-of-mind conditions...
lead to out-of-body renditions...
a suicidal homicide mission...
but at least it's not my decision...
and it's not my problem...
not my solution...
not my blood...
so it's not my ablution...
not my business...
not my institution...
it's not my crime...
so it's not my execution...
You know it's not my world...
these are not my people...
they are not my equals...
this is not my power...
this is not my evil...
this is not my chase...
they are not my steeples...
this is not my realm...
A Rhapsody of Mellifluous ClairvoyanceSpit to itMore Like This
A rhapsody of mellifluous clairvoyance/ tantalizing stars to quasars revolutionizing the premeditative thoughts of the creative righteous children/ which are currently quarantining the future of sound... a new Amerykah/... boozila baby/ The Class shouts Ens(A)mble...
peep it.. thoughts progressive like an hourglass element compose push pressed of a hundred and twenty lessons/ when time is of the essence and masters pass truth to teachers seekin secrets revealing meditation techniques to stimulate enlightened elevation/ so I keep on meditating/ while simultaneously eradicating the tasteless touches of Yakub's grasp/ in order to find my former self upon this righteous path/ back to the past /as the black sun of Abraham/ aging in faithful futures to be presented as bein...a mufuckin educated black man/
so enter with me into the center/ soul cold like its the winter/
when third eye -4th dimensional metaphysical perceptions of militant heavy methods/
become too crucial to dwarnis
Do you feel?Our backs to one another;More Like This
our lips so close i can almost
taste your intoxicating scent
Do you feel the tension?
The ever rising lust driven between us?
I feel you and i melt
Your eyes are dark,
hooded with power
The dam breaks and my crystalline tears fall
Do you hear me?
My cry every time you strike
I hear you
I see you
Your in my every dream
I awaken each night, glistening with
sweat, your lips inches from where i want them
My lips so cold from abandonment
Do you remember our past?
Those days i would annoy you even
if you sneered with hidden love?
To me; your my everything
Am i so important to you
I think not
One day you shall fall from your throne
and i will be there to catch you
just like a fallen angel form his stead
broken but true
evil but pure
Do you feel me?
I feel you nowManifest your angerMore Like This
call upon your lust;
Flamboyant tirades and
I feel you now;
Come into my arms,
weep for the dead
anguish for the lost
I feel you;
Set aside that awareness
crumble your sadness
I feel you now;
in my heart
How much can one being bare?
Trust me with your thoughts
open up your mind to me
I am here for you now;
Relax the tension;
Soothe the anxiety
I am here
I feel you now
Will you feel me?
Take the weight from my shoulders and
soothe me as i have done for you?
I trust you with my thoughts,
Will you feel me now?
Complex feelingsCrystalline annihilation-More Like This
The breaking of the heart.
Such fragile things we are,
To love with such naivety!
An ode they'll never see.
Such an oblivious emotion,
And one I'll never be.
If I live tomorrow,
Only to die my way.
Will you endeavour,
To find bliss in pain.
A complex operation,
To break a broken heart.
A paradoxical approach
To a strange simplicity.
conflictionFragile, Fragile, Fragile,More Like This
Human emotions are,
I will destroy them all
No hesitation it's wrong.
The only way to win is obliteration!
If I cannot feel then,
Nothing will harm me.
Is this assumption conceivable?
It must all be overthrown,
By my own hands!
please stop me
I can't take the pounding in my head,
It hurts so much,
I-I-I need no emotions
I need them!
A hindrance I swear,
I will be better off!
Please, I need to be free,
From this ultimate price.
The sin of emotion,
It will not rub off!
a mark of life
The Fading ChildThe Fading ChildMore Like This
I know you feel helpless, child
Just as you should
Death is coming for you, child
As we always knew it would
Your fate has been sealed, child
And there's nothing to be done
Just lay back and accept it, child
Don't you try to run
So save your remaining strength, child
And drift off to sleep
I would just hate it, child
If you were to see me weep
We've gathered 'round your bed, child
We've hopelessly cuddled and kissed
And when you pass away, child
Know that you will be missed
Harmony Fights MelodyAnother blowMore Like This
To the heart I've known
As well as it hates my mind
And soon it'll be free
For a moment at least
Till another knife opens it wide.
Just as you swore
You couldn't take more,
Our enemies challenged your words.
A moment of peace
Remains out of reach
For a wounded soul weathered by storms.
The rhythm begins
It heals and it mends
Or murders us without remourse.
Our feelings exist
As a complimentary risk
To alter what numbness rehearsed.
Ode To PaternityI don't usually do it,More Like This
But when I do,
It's because of you.
The savage, hateful
Drips out drop by drop
The pusillanimous child
Cowers away faint-heartedly
Drop by drop
Bounding away from
The black-hole heart
Dripping out is my anguish,
The dejection I feel around you
And your blazing red eyes
Can you feel
The vultures circling you?
The dogs in you,
For another taste,
One last delve into the freezing water.
You can't deny.
My child mind said
But I've grown now
Grown enough to see
What you owe me
I am numb now
Can't heal me.
The love I know
Can't give me feeling
In this heart; you
Did you know
I've forgotten half the day dream?
The sweet summer days
And lemon drop
Did you see?
The spiders crawling
No, you m
The Last BreathI'm in this mess,More Like This
and it's spiralling down.
There's no more to confess,
Yet I'm starting to drown.
Every time I try,
I get knocked to the ground.
And I'm still asking why,
this keeps coming around.
This pain in my mind,
is infecting my soul.
I just need to unwind,
'Cause it's taking it's toll.
My heart's at it's worst,
And i'm starting to break.
I know I've been cursed,
'Cause my life's just an ache.
I beg for my death,
As I hide in the dark.
Wait for my last breath,
I will leave my mark.
Drag yourself to the door,
Feel the tears on your cheek.
When there isn't a cure,
And your outlook is bleak.
I keep going wrong,
Why can I not do it right?
I don't think I belong,
I'm losing this fight.
This is what I deserve,
This sick in my life.
I could lose my nerve,
But I'll still draw the knife.
My hunger for you,
still fires in my heart.
Now you can't see my truth,
And i'm falling apart.
Why can't I grow wings?
And float in the skies.
I had my warnings,
Yet I still told my lies.
Where did my wh
A Tie 4 My Chest, Ty4 My HeartI would hide from the heart that searched for me, it is wrong,More Like This
That I could be more then a single note in a two hour song,
I watch the rain fall and feel warm,
The rain drops plus me, we would form,
The outline of one sad and fleeting life,
The assumed justification of a bleeding knife,
I look down when trapped alone in my room,
I locked the door and accepted this man made tomb,
Posters stare and begin to pray,
That my negative thoughts wont stay,
Books stand and dare me to read,
Collect our information and challenge the desire to bleed,
A TV flickers in the background, hoping to be a distraction,
From the blood under my skin that causes fascination,
My blanket lays, hide under me,
Rather then accept my negatives thoughts of what I see,
The blood of my shadow falls; I watch the moving wall,
Then have regret with a sound, my phone screams a phone call,
I answer with a strong voice, the way as an actor I live,
The voice of distance then gives a reason to accept what he wants to give,
The Pain Of Anothers' ChoiceThe scars I wear come with a label of blame,More Like This
The words; you and I fuse, they have become that same,
Calenders have been replaced, time lost,
The scars I wear, my love became the cost,
Love became care then eventually the ability to tolerate,
One action over time, blurred the gap between love and hate,
Scars are given life in a distant room,
Creating an idea for most; the desire of a nameless tomb,
The blood I fail to see, the sensation remains in sight,
The blood must have ran free, the swaying tongue I chose to bite,
My family is surrogated, a sibling remains with me,
The smile she hides behind is printed, a reality is key,
One of control or the belief that you do,
Others point holding a generalised label; beyond blue,
Age groups creates protection for some,
I may not fully understand however know with time it will come,
The bigger picture at a later date,
Will show a lack of trust, supporting hate,
The sound of pain is beyond the view,
The effects are felt in that room and mine too,
MetamorphosisYourMore Like This
wing shiverstiny tremors that
will keep rhythm with your quivering heart, only to
later, clandestine and yet nearly poetic, unravel you from the outside-in.
Under the DomeEyes fall aroundMore Like This
like auburn leafs
burdened by raindrops.
And I ride their tails,
following the silage
for comfort and release.
For the bed of limbs
intertwined and sewn
with maple boughs.
For your cloak,
wrought of breaths,
where I hide and covet
for the sun; for the light
brought forth in our
colloquy of braces.
For it to fill the brim
eloquently with pristinity;
washing over the ruins,
wrying ornate walls
and marbled floors,
and a throne for our realm,
so we lay under
the sacred dome.
For our hubris to echo
through elysian halls,
where your regal scent
creeps in the mosaics,
so I bathe in its solace
and it mends me in rebirth.
winter windswhen wolves have their jawsMore Like This
wrapped around your windpipe,
it’s too late to wonder why
you never tried to run
when you heard their claws
clicking across the floor.
you hungry souls,
i am so sorry.
i am but a carcass
devoid of meat and
my poor bones are
you will find no meal
in the garden.More Like This
the chrysanthemums and the radish flowers towering highest
all bright heads gazing upward except the squash growing
whicheverway it finds room to grow, as it goes
and the caterpillars eating the shit out of the cabbage
me without the will to kill their little faces, placing them
just a few steps away, then waiting
for they'll come back as winged things
pollinating all the growth and green
their worthy way of thanking me
IceWhen the glacier slides,More Like This
I'm the one
. . .
Wondering where the right path is, with doubt biting. Frozen memories, icy distances.
When the world grows colder,
I'm the one
. . .
Standing on my own, with the past craving for me. Stolen, missing.
When the snow falls,
I'm the one
. . .
Trying my best, to make sense of it all. Wandering, wondering.
When the hail storms,
I'm the one
. . .
Holding my guard, locking my heart. Smiling, pretending.
I read your words and pretend I read your words and pretendMore Like This
not only to know you but to
be the one that saves you too.
Who will restore your faith in
Who will erase the pain
you don’t feel but in your rhymes,
because the poète maudit is so much
more attractive than the metroman.
Drink another whiskey, smoke some more
and write with a coarse voice,
I’ll fall at your feet and pretend
not only to know you but to
be the one who is saved by you.
Prompt 14: The Beginning! Just one day left to send us your slice of weirdness! I'm working on my desperate and pathetically last-minute entry--how about you?More Like This
Just under one week left to get those entries in! We've only had two so far, so all you people who favourited and shared and rhapsodized about how goddamn awesome it was we were back, get your arses into gear!
Yes, it's us again. We reincarnate more often than Kenny.
This time is going to be different, though. And you can trust me on that, because it's not me who'll be ensuring it. fyoot, a long-time contributor and judge for transliterations and someone whom I'm sure you all know if only by reputation, is stepping into the breach and making sure this dead horse keeps getting whipped. The one major change you should be aware of is that prompts will now go up on the 15th of each month and end on the 10th. Of course, this ending date is purely arbitrary and only influences who gets into the news feature; you can continue
ConfluenceAccording to the old religion, a scribeMore Like This
must bathe in natural running water
before she draws what is dictated to her,
because writing's just like cleaning a mirror,
she says, it's like rearranging stains
left on wholesome rivers. For three nights,
I drew geometric shapes in the margins;
I had been instructed to take notes on
the underside of snow, and how it colonized
the lithosphere, musically and without hurt.
It felt like a call, but it wasn't a calling.
The paper was made in Himalayan foothills
by a woman who had cleansed knots from fibrous bark
and dipped her bleached hands into boiling water.
I mangled the page into a cottage, then a castle;
for I imagine that the grime of Dublin
could fold me up into my questions. But to give
creative attention is always an act of love,
and the most sincere. You have always known that
only at the fringes of the intellect
can love become voice. So may
it all be fringes and love
its nonexistence, but not yet, not yet.
I lay upon you a garment...I lay upon you a garment of whiteMore Like This
He is the Holy Spirit
Who lives and reigns with Me and God the Father
Who shall be your holy guide
He shall help you to discern
what is wrong and right
therefore by learning and adhering
you shall be pleasing before My sight
Do not be afraid
of whatever lies ahead
Many forlorn, lament and dread
of tomorrow when they should
trust Me the Lord your God instead
The road ahead is not easy
so My love, be wary for evil lurks
it craves to steal, plunder and crush dead
the spirit whose light wavering
is snuffed out because he did not look to Me
I am the God ascended
I sit at My Father's right hand
Trust Me Yahweh your God
and your plans realized
I give you Holy Spirit
for He shall be for you
a great vessel, a shield and sturdy sword
stand firm in the faith
do good for others
for charity brings life not death
Wear My garments well
for they repel
the fiery arrows of hell
stay in My love
for I shall bring light
The light everlasting
stay in it and you shall never
Heart BeatsOne room--is all what love takesMore Like This
For butterflies to flow through,
And with hate, it never breaks
To what you thought splits in two.
The lack of warmth is what cracks
Your core from beating in rhymes.
So take a break, and relax
After all, life drops sometimes,
But can rise afterwards
With a brighter, warm sunshine.
Give yourself a step towards
Your dreams, which are divine.
If your windows remain dark
Then keep patience by your side.
Up till you find every mark
Has escaped, from light, to hide.
Hate MeBehind that smile, she hidesMore Like This
The way her heart divides,
Between love and what's right
As tears rain every night.
The compass of her core
Cannot guide any more.
Once broken, time can heal
But not to again, feel.
SaccharineWith a hummingbird heart like yours,More Like This
I bet you drink your weight in nectar
twice a day.
with blood so sweet,
there will be mosquitoes.
There will be those who come at you all proboscis
and seek to sip your syrup.
And you will let them.
This is okay.
You are ambrosia,
and no one expects you to keep that to yourself.
So let them taste your Madagascar vanilla.
Just don’t let them drink you dry.
Make them leave a little,
at least enough to get you by.
With warmth like yours,
reptiles will want to wrap themselves around you,
to bask in your body heat.
Now, serpents get a bad wrap,
but it’s not their fault they’re cold-blooded.
So share with them your Indian summer.
Be their furnace when you can,
but only when you can.
Judging by the blushes
that blaze across your face so freely,
you’ve got BTUs to spare;
Just don’t let those snakes leave you cold.
Let me smear this ram’s blood across your forehead.
May every plague pass over you.
Full DisclosureWhen I meet new people,More Like This
I tend to put my worst foot forward.
I’m not sure why I do this,
but I’ve got a few theories.
One: Simple self-sabotage.
Two: Weeding out the weak,
Those who would waste my time
with false friendship and
empty promises of unconditionality.
If they’re gonna leave,
better now than later.
Three: The rush that comes from being known and not-hated.
I’ve always been a thrill seeker,
an adrenaline junkie.
so maybe this is just another manifestation.
Another way to get my heart racing.
I seek the relief that comes when things don’t go sideways.
When I let someone see that I need three bellboys
to carry my baggage, and they don’t run.
When somebody thinks that the ways that I’m broken are fascinating,
the thought that the geometry of my cracks could be beautiful,
So full disclosure:
I haven’t felt this way since the first time
I watched the movie Juno,
and I’m talking about Michael Cera,
Frozen CloudsSnowflakes fall as dropsMore Like This
Through fangs of ice blades,
With a stare that chops
Courage and its shades.
Tough, under the worst
Of all that's around;
Yet, in tears--could burst
When its dears lose sound.
A snow wolf fellow
For its cold bellow
Freezes who interfered,
To steal its precious gem
Which takes place inside,
A heart in condemn
Out of death, it's dried.
Walking with a ToddlerSlow he may be, plodding gentle hisMore Like This
tiny legs. Each stick is a new
exploration three steps to
“come on” you shout as he trots over
gravel laughing delighted at the crunch-crunch
beneath his feet
and back again.
A dog bounds by, so much energy that
it sparks fear in the little trekker as
he clings to your leg, begging to be lifted.
Arms wrapped around his world,
he points at the sky, tells you its blue.
Fires Like Usmemories flood andMore Like This
a strange fuel chokes
its blurry taste
where words and will
again, break down
and it's here
where our ghosts
where the simplest air
hosts and feeds
fires like us, our
orange knives, whittling
away the years
and it's in
this kindled breath
that we forget
The Holes in My Palms are Not From NailsI’m not a synonym for your past girl,More Like This
I’m not going to be the fool
who pulls petals from a flower
hoping I’d end up on the positive
side effect. The Sandman skipped me,
so I won’t rub my eyes anymore
to see you any better.
And contrary to my belief,
you were the blurred end
to a light in water-
the credits to an unknown song.
Some would dare to call you
modern art; but I know that’s just
a euphemism for too abstract
to be understood.
But nonetheless, you made it to be
ubiquitous, a tongue twister
for someone who was never laconic,
never ravenous for a plate of zany
to keep her company-
or just drive the false vertigos
to a bit of parachuting down.
No more, paper boy. No more of your force-field
paper tears you made me swallow.
You are not my flight with Icarus,
you are not the smell of earth after rain.
So lock me up in your loosely-clenched
fingers, and hope to a burning, stagnant star
the others you bit away
would want the same.
possessions of domestic indifferencejust trying to find myselfMore Like This
a body to hold,
things to wrap myself around.
keys, an old coffee mug
that black notebook
it took me a few
full moons to realize
that there is poetry in everything
and just like me
all words are just trying to find
their way home
back to the wild
potent and undiluted
in solitude and fortitude
promising to remain unloved,
a treaty, a pact
through these lines on skin,
in dirt and on paper
I am not my own anymore
Presence(I)More Like This
God lived in the larynx of Ella Fitzgerald
and sat silently
bouncing along to her blues
not daring to interrupt even
while she wore through wooden shoes,
He left only for a short time to sit
quietly between the toes
of Astaire as he astounded and rose to the ceiling,
Almost kicked the walls down peeling around the edges
to stop himself from falling
head over heels
Not too long after,
God laid under the skin of Jackson and told
his father's belt "Do your worst! I'll overcome your actions!"
And cursed the wrong choices in a thunderclap of
leather on paper thin child's skin,
And he hoped that the boy could believe in him
as much as God believed back.
And God would have wished he could hold him
like river Jordan after that.
They walk in each other's foot steps
keep to the imprints left for each other
it is easy to deviate from the path
it is easy to fall over
but it waits,
There's hate hovering in the wings and down
of the sharp tongued street
if you put one foot out of
NextMore Like This
Timothy J Swann
An expensive bar in Canary Wharf, frequented almost exclusively by journalists.
NATHANIEL: Yes, so I've been working more freelance ever since, well, the closure.
DEAN: Unlucky place to be caught, I guess.
NATHANIEL: It was a good deal. At the time, anyway. Change of pace, a step up in pay, a step up in readers... do you know the Star gets double the readers of your paper? And you do some stuff for the Observer too, don't you? News of the World got nine times as many readers than them. The people wanted the sort of journalism I've been doing; your stuff... less so.
DEAN: That's... somewhat blunt.
NATHANIEL: You clearly haven't read many of my articles recently. We don't soften the pill. We don't pull our punches. We don't
DEAN: Say no to a PI hacking a dead girl?
NATHANIEL: I wasn't even there when that happened!
DEAN: Nor it seems, was your boss. Or your corporate oversight.
NATHANIEL: Hey, I just lost my job, aren't we supposed to b