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napoleon at seven
an old guitarist sitting
on a watercolor hill,
plucking on six strings absent.
two halves of breasts running near
under van gogh's starry night,
under black-white guernica.
everything in all jigsaws,
everything in trepid cubes.
a girl before a mirror
with violin and guitar,
sitting with three musicians
and a woman with her book,
stippling all realities
of intangible maternity.
hours yielding from dalí's clock,
minutes sub-the alchemist
like rain, like raining, like rained—
portraits wilt with abstract smiles.
clear sfumato, oh still life,
napoleon at seven.
:icontrumancoyote:trumancoyote 93 25
The Vampire and His Servant I
                                        The Vampire and his Servant
As I fall on the withered ground,
I stare up at the darkening sky,
Tears pouring from my pleading eyes.
I want to be free from this hell…
Light footsteps sound, stepping toward me.
I turn my head, slowly, the fear sending chills down my spine…
Making my heart cold.
He walks towards me, his graceful legs carrying him closer.
His long black hair whips against his pale face
As a sudden wind makes contact with his slender body
As he reaches me, he kneels down in front of my crumbled body.
I flinch visibly and turn my head a
:iconellaryrose:EllaryRose 120 34
The storm
Cartilage-smooth azure extends
above bent heads.
Furrows   s t  r  e  t  c   h       b    e    y     o     
                                 the edge                               n
:icondrop-asd:drop-asd 174 87
I Think I Might Sleep Today
The sea is rough stirred with tea spoons
Dishes swim in kitchen made dreams,
Crossing the land hooked onto a washing line.
The landscape is dirty linen, clothes and sheets
Being washed, ironed and folded out again and again,
A little rain never hurt no-one.
Words are flames in a cooker
Spread out like a jigsaw table cloth,
Staring into tealeaves and seeds
Creased and scattered into the breeze.
My only friends
Kitchen appliances speak to me,
As I escape dodging around empty seats
Curled around the tip of a fork.
Dishes swim in kitchen made dreams
Crossing the land hooked onto a washing line,
Words are flames.
Kitchen appliances speak to me
A little rain never hurt no-one,
This bleeding heart sneezed out of his nose
His better than anything I can prepare.
:icondrowningbywords:DrowningByWords 26 66
losing everything i never had
it's an early morning as the sun is rising, stepping into my mother's room and moving towards her bed, careful not to disturb the dark shadows on the walls, or the lulling silence that's filling the steps between us, i ask her when she wearily opens her eyes, "why was i born?"
her face held no expression, and she didn't reply
she didn't reply
i might as well not have gotten out of bed today.
i might as well be -
and sometimes as i'm sitting in the passenger seat, i lose track of where i'm headed. i lose track of the fact that i'm moving, i'm moving somewhere slowly across a map. i'm moving with the world, and i'm just one person out of so many. so fucking many. i watch the rode beneath the tires blur passed us. i watch the clouds drift along with us, the trees look like ghosts. i feel the time move along with us, as the sun falls to the floor and gives up letting the stars take it's place. the moon has painted my skin white, just as i sputter out my words and let them fade
:iconsoftsilhouettes:softsilhouettes 71 123
Degrees Warped By Fragments
Degrees Do Worse Warped By Fragments
I sit among a contingent of fresh-faced athletes doing mostly
Reading a book on the crosses of cosmogony when I feel a hand
On my shoulder. I turn around like a toddler's wind-up toy and
No face to match the arm suspended in space by something unseen
Faces of clocks abound on every wall I sit across from, next to or
It makes no sense to me. Half an hour will pass before I have slept
Hours, and yet exhaustion always accompanies me, even during the
Rush of excitement I feel when the clocks cease ticking.
Library books are beginning to pile up, most of them long overdue
On shelves read less than twice, ones never even cracked open for a
At their lively entrails, innards I normally would be happy to gorge on.
I sit in the dark and wait for hunger to take me somewhere new.
Game shows are on and I have to buy a vowel to finish the conversation
Are having at the dinner table.
:icondarkmoon1987:darkmoon1987 40 30
God forbid they find out. I never understood how they couldn't hear them talking, their voices buzz like radios in my head, with static between outbursts.
Can't they, can't they?
Can't they hear Wednesday crying? How she aches with the weight of it all?
How Thursday laughs, callous, and Tuesday tries to sooth?
Tuesday's a sweet thing. Like boiled candy on my tongue.
Monday never listens and if he does it's only to lecture. He is black, unsweetened coffee in the sticky, early hours of the morning.
Sunday is so wrapped up in his own troubles to think about others. He never sleeps, so he never stops. He yawns like a baby bird for his mother.
Thursday blinks her orange eyes and tries to get Friday's attention, but all he wants is Tuesday. He's always wanted Tuesday. But he is so unattainable she doesn't even see him, eyes slide over like glass.
Saturday could solve it all, if she wasn't so damn lazy.
This could all be over. Tomorrow. I believe in tomorrow.
I ache on Wednesdays too.
:iconartisjustfrozenmusic:artisjustfrozenmusic 35 86
You look at me like I am a're right.
I will slit your throat when you least expect it.
Since I'm such a nice guy, I'll let you choose where you want your kidneys to end.
Being a serial killer is quite possibly the best thing that has ever happened to me.
:iconinspectorlupus:InspectorLupus 55 17
Painting of life
My painting weeps colors
sorrow and happiness
dark and light
It drips
off the canvas
onto my fingers
Red and orange
like the sunset color
of a warm beating heart
Delicate fingers painted
on the canvas wall
every detail matched
with every branch and line
Blue and black
sorrow and distress
dripping down
Colors of the rainbow
of the world
of the cosmos
Sapphires, diamonds
rubies and emeralds
fall out of my eyes
from the old and new colors
Your eyes seep of wonder
and knowledge
I grasp your hands
and together
we become
the symbiotic painting of life
:iconpagesofdreams:PagesOfDreams 18 25
returning my body to its owner
i'm taping these words
on the back of my finger;
i'll wear them like a bandage,
and superglue them to brick walls
vandalized with spraypaint tattoos.
i'm stapling my ears behind my head
and cracking every bone in my body
at least seven times – not stopping
until graffiti pours out my skin
in hemophilic hues – vivid colors,
which are nothing more than light.
i'm writing with the arm of a lunatic;
i'm loving with the heart of a savage.
i'm deauthorizing the public opinion,
and auctioning my tongue off on ebay.
i'm but a crescent moon on a zit of the world's ass
i'm seeing through other people's eyes,
lying with other people's rotting teeth,
screaming with other people's lungs,
and swimming in the populace's tears.
i'm breathing through
other people's noses,
inhaling their parables
and sneezing out their poetry
in the form of journal entries
in the form of wannabe prose
in the form of futile verses.
i'm fucking a demographic of dictionaries
and conceiving mutated verse-ch
:iconchloroformboy:ChloroformBoy 32 80
Zbor spre zei
Zbor spre zei
Au murit tacute zine
Impietrite, inamorate fete,
La mal de lucii ape
Cu trestii rasfirate-n basme
Au flacaii habar de ele ?
Apele amar-trec sub umbre
Halal de cel ce-n dimineata
Oropsit, de mult tacuta umbra,
Descult al ierbii fir destrama
Si clopot rar rasuna,
Din turla rasaritului de soare
Cind obositul, lui ochi tresalta
Mai lasa-ma in prag,
Sa sune un bucium
Si o stea sa cada
Cind pleoapa, mi se-nchide
:iconliviugherman:liviugherman 18 3
My Winter
Cardinals will
from the branches like
and the sky will turn to smoke.
The ground crunches under your feet and it’s
Almost as if you could
         sail away
across the ice.
Brandished behind screens of glass
are fists of ivory
They are covered in scratches and
from the dark like magnolia blossoms.
:iconmjulinir:Mjulinir 128 37
Tragedy's Muse
Blame me not, for I am a disillusioned soul that's lost their way,
midst many a broken promise and shattered dreams
I see, before me, an enveloping darkness that is threatening
my sanity, akin to tempests of somber misconception
Tears fill these clouds to bursting and droplets of their pain fall like
rivulets on unsuspecting passersby with no purpose in their stride
Surprise is etched on their faces as hands wipe the wetness
from their skin, in a hurried fashion, seemingly alike a scalding heat
Sensitivity being an emotion hidden behind forgotten trysts and the
never-ending confusion that to care is the ultimate betrayal
I smell the scent of fear emitting from anguished chameleons trapped
behind locked doors in relationships going no-where
Burnt offerings sealed in heart-shaped lockets tied around the necks
of wanton women and sadistic men with no place to hide
They walk the streets, looking down, their eyes never resting upon
anything of beauty, just the cracks in the mottled pavement
:iconlacydrawers:LACYDRAWERS 29 25
the science of silence.
your arms form a barrier, blocking out all sound,
all thoughts,
there is nothing but you.
you are the only thing that
can make a buzzing fan
sound like a butterfly;
a creaking house
like a lullaby.
moaning wind and soft footsteps,
    tickings of clocks, downstairs.
but you made it feel like a soft cocoon;
a weightless wall of something golden:
                             "silence is good in its absolution,"
:iconsubstitutesadist:SubstituteSadist 312 221
war paint
lucy pulled up my fingers into a prayer and told me that all the war paint in the world  couldn't fix us.
i cracked open my chapped lips, trying to smile against the side of her ribcage and
        neck, and she smeared lines of my blood into the most beautiful things on her
        sides.  i kissed her knees and the space where her spine starts to curve, and she
        stroked bears and glorious warriors into my thighs and stomach.
it would be simpler for us to be alone, she said, ruining her life, she said, but she tangled her fingers into my hair and told me i was beautiful anyway.
:iconorange-sheep:orange-sheep 21 47
g-rain evident-s
Your subtle curves
a river's spills
until we reach
beach and banded
sands of brine deltas
near as nothing else
  what dwells seaside
to real waves
so                   long
        i've eyed
   this place we
  me with a
:iconkountrklchr:kountrklchr 28 56
Parodie de dragoste
  Parodie de dragoste            
                           In balcon, la ghena,
                           Acolo te-am vazut.
                           Frumos duceai galeata…
                           De tine mi-a placut.
:icontygron:TYGRON 9 14
hand grenade serenade--
                   she smiles palm
to palm. and with
one flick
of her
         twisted wrist----
                                             a storm emerges
                               from the calm.
                               as the clouds descended I
:iconbreakthatfall:breakthatfall 11 13
Life As Suspended In Linseed
              " I ' m  g o i n g  t o
          t e a c h  y o u  t o  
             p  a</i>  i  n  t  .
b u t  y o u ' r e  
g o i n g  t o  h a v e
  t o  T r u s t  m e . "
    V e r d e
A Hue to Make or Break or
Take Your Place Among the Cunning and Sundering
What Wonderment in Veins Does Run
In Yours is Blood,
in Plants: The Sun,
And Quartz Through Rock a Trickling Path
Revealed from Stone in Acid-Bath
This Rain, with its Sternest,
Most Miniscule of Breaking Blows
Is Revealing Gems Treasured
Unburied to be Re-Discovered
Re-Covered by Coveters
But, why can't we...
Why can't we
:icondezia:DeZia 14 3