“Live Each Day and Have Fun !”
Since: Nov 12
Where I am at .
#4656 Dec 5, 2012
Princess , you have the right idea don't take nothing less !
#4657 Dec 5, 2012
Spoken--a word implicit.
A token, dropped
In the machine--
I have proven over
And again, I am
Tougher than I seem--
A fool still, hopeful.
And you never say
You grant me equal credibility
Or similar delusions.
To believe everything
You say--how can
I give you what I am not given?
But I do--
I would, and I will.
And I let you
Keep pieces of me
Locked, keyed to you
Can no longer
Be sure of finding them--
You will tell me,
I or you
Right or wrong.
And this new
Wants only to be right
And for you to know.
#4658 Dec 5, 2012
The ocean is a blue cliché,
The pink sunset a rough-edged neon light through the smog.
Sand and seaweed scuff my toes in the tender spots,
Pillow the tough heels of my wave-buried feet and
Slowly cover my ankles.
There is sand everywhere,
On my face and hands,
Carried by the waves onto my clothes,
Even in the air as it is flung back,
Back into the sea that will toss and churn it
And round the sharper grains
So that some child's small pink feet
Will one day feel them,
Soft under the soft-skinned toes
Of one not even thought of yet
On our sand grain of a world.
#4659 Dec 5, 2012
We are closest when we are apart.
Each takes tiny steps back when
We are finally together again,
Forced away by the
Thoughts of closeness risen from solitude.
This is not what I had in mind.
Where fear is the driving force
Fear must be of each other too,
A wedge forever standing
Until we need not be afraid
Which in this stifling, frowning
Must never happen.
#4660 Dec 5, 2012
Lying fetal on the couch, shivering in summer heat
As everything crashes head-on where no one wants
But we all see, and bite nails to blood, and pray.
The affectation of electrons and magnets--
As visceral as we let it be, the holographic heart
Pumping between insubstantial ripping fingers.
And through the ache of fantastic discord we know
We will hypnotize ourselves again with the tears,
To know that we can still be made to feel.
Take all the hate bottled up in blue
The fear of yellow, the blank white ignorance
And set it on fire with souls denied.
Then what will be in your front yard?
A burning crucifix, to raise the alarm--
Someone without compassion lives here.
But leave your rifles racked, stay inside
As absolutely nothing in your life is broken,
As those you would denigrate pass you silently by.
#4661 Dec 5, 2012
Based on one point the curve changes
Swelling outward with curiosity,
Dormant desire looking for its passage out.
One step short of hungry communion, kept out by
A wall years old growing thinner,
With the rule's exception
Sitting quiescently, mysterious and treasured.
I want to know beyond the telling, the borrowing;
I could never dare, but there is no other way
But to internalize,
And bring forth experience of my own.
#4662 Dec 5, 2012
She stood as on time's riverbank, her face
As silent and unreadable as stone.
She knew that when we left this time and place
Each one would go her separate way, alone.
A parting of the ways we knew would come
Had finally arrived, and things long past
Remembered, as if all had just been done--
The stones and nets we'd thrown had just been cast.
A word, and she was gone. No long goodbyes,
No looking back in vain for things long gone;
She didn't need to leave with fruitless sighs
To let us know she needed to move on.
We knew there were no words we had to say--
Inside my heart, I carry her that way.
#4663 Dec 5, 2012
You remember the time you first saw me,
Though your eyes had gone past long before then
As had mine, and they passed you right over
On the day that you knew I was there.
It took time, and it shocked me in coming
To discover I watched you with longing,
But I had to act carefree and happy
For I feared you would see that I cared.
You were there all the time in the shadows
Barely out of the reach of my fingers,
But when grief and unhappiness shook me,
I was quick to find respite in you.
There was suddenly joy--unexpected,
But as welcome as light from the heavens
In my life, and I held to you tightly--
You and pain were all realness I knew.
You picked up my heart from its prison,
You showed me a way of surviving.
I loved you with all of my being,
But I loved and I lived still with pain,
For the love that before had sustained me
Now was making me restless, and fearful
That you wouldn't forgive or believe me
If I said you shared none of the blame.
You will wait in the silence to hear me;
You will listen, but you will hear nothing--
I cannot say the words that will hurt you;
I cannot burn the bridge, walk away.
Now, as it grows late, I grow tired;
I will sleep, and keep thinking tomorrow,
And I pray that my silence will tell you
Everything I can't make myself say.
#4664 Dec 6, 2012
I will always
she is not the woman
poring over apples
in the grocery store;
holding the high collar
of a peacoat against her throat
while waiting for the deathslow
leak of a gas pump;
working at the local coffee shop
with a towel tucked in her belt.
she is not
I will always
we lay together
buzzing for hours
on survival of
the night before.
#4665 Dec 6, 2012
"I like you, Devine," she said,
through gritted teeth and a bloody smile-
hidden behind the lense of her camera,
she captures his life in black
and white photographs, all beautiful,
all still hanging on a clothes line
to dry. she cries mascara stains on
her prose, all about me, all poetically
tragic in the worst kind of way.
"It's been years now," she says,
over the phone to a face she
barely remembers. she doesn't
develop her own pictures anymore,
and she hasn't worn mascara
since I left. "I miss you, Devine,"
and he breathes an inaudible reply.....
broken promises mean nothing to her.
broken hearts mean less.
#4666 Dec 6, 2012
She was strong
And she was pretty -
With a full voice,
A bonnet of dark curly hair
And rosey cheeks
That glowed at the prospect of
Tomorrows full of laughter and hope.
Her bright brown eyes
Sparkled like new stars -
Twinkling songs of joy
In a glorious night sky.
She was a young child
Housing a wise, old soul
That possessed knowledge
No child should.
In her innocence
She was keenly unaware.
Blind to perversity;
Deaf to the cruel words
That often landed close enough to destroy.
Watching her walk through the danger,
Some thought her disabled,
And, in their kindness,
Wished her to heal.
As she grew,
The blindness was lifted
And her ears began to hear.
She mistook it for a blessing
Because soon enough
What she saw made her wretch
What she heard pierced her heart
Until it threatened to stop giving her life altogether.
She was eight when the innocence left her.
That day, the wise old soul died.
Her voice became silent.
She grew weak from hunger,
Her eyes dull
But for the one shining tear
That would not fall.
All the days of that child,
The one tear
Glistened and shined
But it would not fall.
As she became a woman
With children of her own,
The tears of of a mother
with hungry children of her own
While the one tear of the broken child she was
Time and again
She struggled to offer what had already been stolen,
To feed her hungry children.
But where there should have been bread
There was only a stone.
When the children were crying
And the dishes lay undone,
She heard the voice of the wise old soul
Calling softly through the veil
Of an ancient past...
"Let go of the one tear,
For it possesses the pain
of all broken promises
And every betrayal
Within its tiny parameters
Lives a flood of sorrow
You journey to swim
Perhaps to drown.
Let go, child...
Let go, young woman...
For peace cannot surround you
Until the storm that rages
In this simple tear
Rages no more."
With a long, whispering sigh
That stretched across time
The woman stepped out of the flood
On the water's edge.
At once the storm quieted,
The water receeded.
As she turned to walk away,
She realized that, at last,
Her fists were unclenched.
With a trembling finger
She wiped away the one tear
And felt the release
As it slid past rosey cheeks
And smiling lips.
Today, the wise old soul
Can be heard laughing
When the woman holds her babies.
Once again, her eyes sparkle -
Twinkling songs of joy
That shine in the glory of the rising sun.
#4667 Dec 6, 2012
So there’s a demon in your soul and it wears my face.
Welcome to hell, you’d like to think so. You don’t even remember what I looked like then, let alone what I look like now.
You remember what I had to say, but not my voice.
You remember how I made you feel, but not my touch.
You remember choking on me, but not the taste I put down your mouth.
I’m just a convenient metaphor. A symbol for something that maybe gives you a little meaning. A tool. Implement (me).
You lick your lips. You’re so hungry, your starving. Slide it over your tongue and down, deeper, choking-deep into your mouth. You can’t stand the thought of not gagging on the memory of me. Your knees grind into the carpet and your chest rubs raw against my legs.
You can'’t breathe unless your gasping to breathe around me. Your knees rub raw. Gag. Gag and choke. Saliva and sweat. Distend your jaw in desperation, for just a little, just a little more.
Force yourself forward so your mouth and nostrils are filled with just a little more. You fill up, give off heat. Give off heat like you never thought possible.
You’ve never had so much to give in your whole life. You’ve never taken so much, never been so full, so empty, your whole life. You’ve never needed the bathroom so much.
Could you? Would you? Right here? Right now? You’ve never been so full. Your whole life.
So much. Your whole life. Give or take, give and take. Swallow. Deeper. You hear me tell you its ok. Baby. It’s ok baby. Deeper.
You look up at me. Feel the warmth of tears on your cheeks. Hear me tell you its ok.
Deeper. Your whole life.
Your whole life. Your whole, whole life.
#4668 Dec 6, 2012
Like their predecessors,
The opulent clouds
Exploded in an extasy of movement
And the crystaline forms
Etched their shape into my inner being.
An original stanza:
Yet its twins
A never-ending example
Of the empty words
Filling up the home page.
Beautiful words yes,
But filled with inner-meaning?
Please show me something
That means anything
And stop assailing my senses
With the bimbo words.
Since: Oct 12
#4669 Dec 6, 2012
JUST SEX and POETRY:
I take the SEX you can have the POETRY ;)
#4670 Dec 6, 2012
When I am listless, I type lists
of all those things I love to hate
or people that, as mood insists,
I feel the need to denigrate,
like hoards of misers, clenching fists
and hand-on-heart philanthropists
hot clerics, iced evangelists
those good for nothing atheists
the pious praying, turning cheeks
while old-school sadists tie their wrists
the doomed, with paddles up their creeks
the humble and the hedonists
genomic geeks, phenetic freaks
the flatline graft of fatalists.
Misogynists? Well, that's just sick;
the bloated body politic
and parasite recidivists
the military, anarchists
ant-eeks that rhyme, not reason, seeks
a plague of ists that off me pissed
agendas hidden in critiques
that hangdog bitch compiling lists.
No, wait, there's so much more to come...
the final throes of tedium;
Much later, squirming in my pit
I ask myself: who wrote this shit?
and screw the fucker up, I swear
explicit lists are not my style
I guess she lost it for a while,
we know the score [I wasn't there].
Still, a badass title sets me free
et voila -- Just sex and poetry.
#4671 Dec 6, 2012
first a flutter - internal butterfly,
then a slow tightening
of the abdomen, a gradual
corkscrewing of pain
that wraps itself around
and through, and then
a mighty release, a river,
a flood, and you are
unborn, unbound, undone
Since: Oct 12
#4672 Dec 6, 2012
Geez, you don't have any sense of humor. Alright I'll try this,
a wonderland of frustration
there’s no one to help
then there’s so much cool shit
you have to insulate your pipes
just like you have to take your meds
medications have to be adjusted
chemicals help to handle heavenly touch
you have to walk on knives
or shut down in slow suicide
it’s so hard sometimes that heavy lies die
die means the in German
whether you’ll enjoy it is undetermined
Since: Oct 12
#4673 Dec 6, 2012
Have a good day
Bad days are bound to come
Stay focused on good thoughts
Doubts are bound to come
How is it you just walk into negativity?
So frustrated by the thought
Is frustration a good thing?
Is it meant to motivate you to change things?
Better than your circumstances
(shows some respect to the author)
Since: Oct 12
#4674 Dec 6, 2012
what makes me do this?
I wont tell you
what "this" is ....
let your mind wander ....
thats your perrogative .....
but lets face it,
that one human `s exterior transmissions,
but interest Is not something
I actively seek
(and yes I do read the poem but I don't do plagiarism) Peace and Out!
Since: Mar 12
I Love The Color Purple
#4675 Dec 6, 2012
No im not a bitch,I've just been thru a few things,seen a few things,been there done that.Yes i guess I'm cold now,but only because I once gave a D-- about someone who didnt give a D-- about me.I've built a wall around myself to protect my heart from more hurt and damage.I wont believe you if you tell me you're different unless you stick around and prove it.Words no longer mean a thing now your actions are another thing!!!!
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