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Literature
Listen, Before You Are Lost
Wild thing, wild thing
Can't you hear the dark winds sing?
Or the muted omens of the blackbird's wing
You aren't listening, wild thing
Little beast, little beast
Can't you hear that the drums have ceased?
And you're dancing on stones in the summer heat
You'll burn your feet, little beast
Shattered soul, shattered soul
Your moans will go where all moans go
To the caverns of the earth, forgotten and low
You're the earthquake's roll, shattered soul
Monster fair, monster fair
Standing alone in the evening air
Sifting passing folk with disdain so rare
Yet you're so unaware, my monster fair
Lovely snake, lovely snake
Coiled around your wooden mistakes
Will you ever even dare to wake
And sort true from fake, lovely snake?
Fierce little fool, little foal
There's a stallion's vengeance in your soul
It's best that you should let it go
Or it will make life cold, little foal
Wild thing, wild thing
Can't you hear the dark winds sing
Your song from beneath the blackbird's wing
You aren't listening,
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Literature
We Control a Turning Sky
Pyrotechnics, back against steel
Fingers on hipbones, the memory reels
Shadows and clouds pass over the light
But my sky full of stars stands apart from the night
In this sky, physics fails and desire is sheer
Like silk across the eyes, all reason ends here
Where even the slightest whisper of breath
Exhilirates the ear, tightens the chest
Lowers the wall, brightens the mind
In a fire of hope, flames and stars glow in kind
And eyes reveal light and color and space
And wandering hands find rest, meaning, and place
Against the skin, the lip, the cheek
The bridge of the nose, the eyelid, the leap
From the border to the home, naivety to sin
As lips meet the othesr, joined to their twins
And the universe turns, sings with coming rain
Gives all things a chance to flourish again.
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Literature
I Am Here
I am here.
This nightfall outside your window pane
Tapping with my shadowed fingers
Pleading with my north wind sighs
As neglected as the acknowledgement of day, is the passing of night
A fact of life that you will not remember to remember
And so I am burning
A fire of the misconstrued, it cleanses, it does not kill
It is unassuming and weak, begging only oxygen free of the perfume of lavender and gasoline
A roaring existence beyond these glass walls
And so I am screaming
Ocean breakers that crash against the shore
Begging ankles to slip into my riptide, so bent on destruction, so desirous of growth
But the sea does not grow, it is
It is forever and it is never the same, such insignificant tides that pull our islands through time
And so I am dying in this snow dance
Where the world is so cold that it is white with its own apathy
It is clean in its mindlessness
It is wrong in its assumption of uselessness
And I want my footsteps to leave their imprint forever
Deep in the ground like roo
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Literature
Croceus
The sun has never seemed brighter to me
Possessed of that peculiar whiteness which stains the treetops with life
So green and then so dark
Lacing pathways with a voice and threads of seduction to a hungry soul
There are changes in me that I cannot explain
Revealed by the season and indecisive winds
A need to climb gray mountains and lay in silence on green hills
To star gaze until the patterns of constellations shine behind my eyelids
To swim lakes where the water is dark and cold, but the day is warm and clear
And to never have to do any of it alone
I have never felt so complete in all my life, although my heart and soul have split in threes
I would drink in love if only it were offered to me
I would love if only it were asked of me
The white sun falls and green is gold
Somewhere, those hills that I would make my bed are gold
My lullaby winds whisper feathered debate
And life stands still for the imperative moment where I make the choice to go on.
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Literature
I've Never Been There
There's a road in Arizona
A street I'll call "Forever"
A black expanse of asphalt
That smells of heat and leather
Standing on the faded lines
Yellow, perfectly straight
There is the mirage of a girl
To whom I can relate.
Tan lines on her wrists and feet
Fierce eyes and sun-bleached hair
Tank top, sandals, cut-off shorts
The modern "maiden fair"
Something like a goddess
In that she is only one
Yet her defiant stance commands the earth
Her fingertips the sun.
But she doesn't want to rule the world
Or be empress of time
She wants only for a purpose
To know her wayward mind.
Because her soul is full of motion
Her heart beats with the heat
And for all the risks she's dared to take
She's a stranger to defeat
Alone, she still sees an audience
Of those who have claimed to know
Where she would fit the universe
Or would define her wild glow
Her rain dance is to mock them
She's calling down the sky
The image of her shudders
Amid dust and heathen cries.
I swear that I'll become her
Bring life and
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It's Lonely at the Top by inkwazsilver It's Lonely at the Top :iconinkwazsilver:inkwazsilver 0 2
Literature
5:30 on a February Wednesday
I am sitting on my front porch, waiting for a train
Street light coppers, like some false sunrise, reach their day-fearing fingers towards me
Like hands splayed on snow
And I wonder if light can be cold
The sounds of the wind and the rush of distant cars are deceptive
So like an engine, my breath so like its steam
A train I can't chase, secret in all of its components
When I first came outside, the sky was darker than I had ever known
The stars lost in its folds and no moon
But day is nearing and the trees are not giants or gods, but oak and birch
With names and form
These broken places in my hands are marks of my past and present life
This image of a ragged and strong New England marked six months like the skin of the old
I would will that street lamp out with my mind
Sends its fingers retreating across piano key snow and the tree line- rudimentary sharps and flats
For something, a lightening of the sky, a stir from behind the upstairs window
Tells me that my short vigil is ending, da
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Literature
Just the Same
Too much perfume with designer names
Permanently scenting pillowcases and violet walls
We were so young then, living life in shades of purple
Glitter in our nail polish and our eyes (acetone and musk)
Three boys a week, counting weekends
Multiplied by our phone calls, divided by the friends we lost
High school mathematics, subtract the heart
Add a glimmer of rebellion to our human equation
We failed kindness to get further in life
Life as we saw it, all mirrors or reflective walls (but which?)
And suddenly we grew and boys no longer broke our hearts
   But our minds.
And instantly we aged and we no longer counted victories
   But our debts.
And finally we changed and we no longer sprayed perfume
But choked on the smell of it, one hundred years old
Our lives were so different then, we will say to each other
Wizened and white in those hospital beds we once disdained
But the truth is, the world is the same
   Greener. Emptier.But fully the same
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Literature
Moira
This girl is a soundtrack of second chances
As real as sunlight or fire smoke
and sharing that same elusive quality
A composition of the future, she will push the wave with Cerulean words
While those of us who would ride this change watch
On and on
Some people are born with the power to change worlds
And I see this in her, hiding behind golden hair and want-sharp eyes
It's a lust face.
Something beyond sex and art and knowledge
She wants her world to knows things as she sees them
See time and space in music and possibility
Of the many notes that are left suspended in this room
between linoleum and fluorescent lights
Hers will frame the second movement
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Literature
Dunkin Donuts Cashier: PPI
It's cold outside of Boston,
Slipping in the doors of a brick walled Dunkin Donuts
Keeping in the heat and skimming past the man with lustful eyes
Take too long making choices and he'll leave first
Look anywhere, blink back the morning, and suddenly she's there
Standing behind the counter, fake gold in her ear lobes
This woman is tired like a lifetime
What color are those eyes,
Translucent and rimmed in black liner
The same pencil she's used since the sixth grade
4.99 through Avon
And ding! 4.99 flashes on the register
I'm drawn to her hands.
Tapping expertly on that keyboard
She knows what she's doing, in control
She's amazing, flashing over totals and tax,
But so apathetic to this seeming superpower.
Slapping the sides of the machine after each five strokes
Dirt or coffee or something under those nails
But they're fine hands
Working hands that have cupped lover's faces and have held back tears
Full of veins pumping blood that keeps her alive and dead
She speaks when it's necessary, h
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Literature
And You Love My Eyes
Sitting with an inch between
Hardly noticeable, a gentle lean
That covers the thin and sacred space
Of cloth and air that keep our place.
And suddenly, alive and free
I'm full of electricity
Your finger, so slight upon my leg
Would it were my face instead
And would it were not hands, but lips
That would lend me not just touch, but kiss
And would it were not air, but fire
That filled the gap with sparking wires
To knit us close in hope and light
With no fear that we did not do right
So take my hands, my fears, my heart
Creating our own kind of art.
Brush my eyelashes to your skin
Close to feel you breathe out, breathe in.
Hands on my waist and wings spread above
You're an angel reflected in blue eyes, my love.
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Literature
Mountain Dance
I'm dancing in the mountains tonight
A pale white fire in the ancient light
Soft like iron and hard like snow
Bathed in gentle, wine-stained glow
I'm breaking hearts beneath the waves
Beautiful and slightly crazed
Breathing sea and drinking air
With silk and water threaded through my hair.
I'm suspended, broken in heavy clouds
Thick with sorrow, weighted down
Folding hands in hopes for rain
To save me, wash me, make me sane
I'm lost in forests black as fear
With ghosts of voices in my ears
Loves that I've long since forsaken
By the shadowed arbors taken
I'm searching in the morning mist
For things that prove forever exists
For flames that match a heart like mine
Dancing in mountains, fire and wine.
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Literature
It's So 1984
We’re so in vogue this year
Standing under dying street lights, with lightning bugs for bulbs
But the hum is all the same to untrained ears, phosphorescence
Black dress, black tights, cigarettes are out, but revolution is in
And eyeliner tattoos on our ankles, exposed! Oh the scandal.
It’s a new world underground
Amps and synthesizers on fire to warm the hands of our predecessors
It’s alright; we can play our music with hands and feet
Backbeats on the walls of the Capitol Building
Who needs a voice when you have the satisfaction of work?
Disturbing statement. We agree.
We can’t be ignored forever, the movement, the fad, the lust, the change
But we don’t want your change. It bleeds us thin as paper, dark as ink
We want vitality and life in every essence and a chance to become
This is where it starts
Responsibility, anger, humanity, hungry minds ill with your appeasement
Internal riots are of the good sort
Pound your city streets- you frustrated young, brilliant
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Literature
Learn to Hate
Blue lights, bright white
If white could be bright, I recall
And fading to blue, becoming the lie
That without you, I’m nothing at all
Sharp cloth, sweet fire
If fire were cold, I would know
How burns are not healed by bandage or time
But waiting for new skin to grow
Shallow dive, Deep breath
If I could leap without breaking my neck
And wash away shame in water like wine
Bitter and natural and red
Live forever, Die too soon
The option would fit if I knew how to live
Yet, because I am fearing the promise of pain
I must learn how to never forgive.
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Literature
There's Always Someone
Sitting high on telephone wires
Metropolis fades beneath my feet
And billboards reach to sell me perfection
Smog and daylight and stars compete
Spray paint dreams on tar-hot roofs
Upside down skies in the summer heat
Kites from the windows, no rules in this city
The scene is my favorite song with no beat
Glitter like asphalt is strewn above
I’ve spent entire lives in this seat
But only a day, to see electric hopes
Of the urban travelers I’ll never meet
One would love a high-wireD artist like me
In this underfoot city, their lives on repeat
Just to look up, out of rhythm one day
And find the skyline and future complete
-08.11
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DeviantIDNoWayzzz by inkwazsilver DeviantIDNoWayzzz :iconinkwazsilver:inkwazsilver 0 5

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I hate you.
blubber.
blubber is what i feel like as you brag
about how great your relationship is
with
him.
the one i want.
the one that belongs to
......not me.....
but the one i belong too.
the one that would fuck me, then and will now.
I hate you.
I whisper it.
I yell it.
I believe it.
you've taken away everything without even knowing it!
how can you not know that your broadcasting my misery with your fucking
myspace bullitains and your happiness...
your happiness with my bestfriend...
my..companion.
the person i would spend the rest of my life with if i had the chance....
a chance i don't have...
now...
now that hes realized your "inner"
beauty
a beauty that's different from mine because it seems skin deep.....
but he knows its not..
the only one who gets me..
the one who finishes my sentaces
and can talk to me without words..
that's something you cant do...
but you still have the better end of the stick...
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you have it better but yet
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Activity


deviantID

inkwazsilver
Ideas Are Bulletproof
Artist | Literature
United States
Current Residence: The In Between
Favourite genre of music: Everything!
MP3 player of choice: iPod
Personal Quote: When I was young, I thought that because I hurt, it meant I was not loved. It means I loved."
Interests
I keep writing because... well, why?

With my soul so precariously bound between a void that I have brushed and fear and a life I am no longer willing to accept, why do I keep writing?

Because once, there was someone who used to check this profile on a regular basis- who read my words for the love of me and knew me for them. Whatever illusions exist on solid ground now, they are only illusions, because I am here, clean of the ghosts of shouts and pain.

Whatever ground that the person stands on now, whichever side of the void, if they touch this part of me again, I can't help but  feel like I will somehow know that they have done so and breathe again.

So keep writing, me. And keep writing, you. Whoever you are, wherever you are, let words remind you that your voice is powerful in love and hate, in joy and loss. And maybe, maybe someone will hear and find you beautiful. What else can we ask for?

Comments


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:iconbrazilnutz:
brazilnutz Featured By Owner Mar 20, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the watch Hannah, I hope your senior year is going splendidly. In fact, I hope all is well in general. Have a wonderful life, hopefully we'll get a chance to see one another this summer.

Peace.
Reply
:iconpoetrymann:
Poetrymann Featured By Owner Nov 15, 2010  Professional Writer
:iconthankyou1plz::iconthankyou2plz::iconthankyou3plz::iconthankyou4plz::iconthankyou5plz:
Reply
:iconpoetrymann:
Poetrymann Featured By Owner Aug 14, 2010  Professional Writer
:iconthankyou1::iconthankyou2:
:iconbigheartplz:
Reply
:iconvociferaciously:
vociferaciously Featured By Owner Aug 12, 2010  Student General Artist
You haven't posted anything in too long. Please do so.
Reply
:iconinkwazsilver:
inkwazsilver Featured By Owner Aug 23, 2010   Writer
Ta-Da! mopemopemope
Reply
:iconvociferaciously:
vociferaciously Featured By Owner Aug 23, 2010  Student General Artist
Very mopey. :(
Reply
:iconpoetrymann:
Poetrymann Featured By Owner Jun 5, 2010  Professional Writer
:iconthankyou1plz::iconthankyou2plz::iconthankyou3plz::iconthankyou4plz::iconthankyou5plz:
Reply
:iconphoxymoron:
phoxymoron Featured By Owner May 29, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
i love you.
Reply
:iconpoetrymann:
Poetrymann Featured By Owner May 22, 2010  Professional Writer
:iconthankyou1::iconthankyou2:
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