[x]

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav

He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a

Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.

PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint

with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.

Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?

SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.

Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain

Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,
you'd be wrapped in the sweetest
perfumes
(learning
how to engulf the ocean
with your lungs
and think of how to cup it
in your hands
despite
your broken prayers and
still be beautiful)

dance with the gypsies
'till noon
(a quake in
your hips like the thrust
of continents
and the faultlines
emanating from
your spine,
but still
so, so graceful)

sing with the nymphs
in tune
(your voice,
it's growing old,
raspy even.
your throat's burning dry
like a monsoon
faltering in a desert,

and tones
still octaves
powerful)

be nestled in a king's arms
soon
(oh, you precious
little thing.
how

SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free

Riddle My tears fall,

like invisible

diamonds.

My heart beats,

like soundless

drums.

Unwanted,

because of the

strings attached.

What am I?

A Night By the FireNo light,
The light sired by the night
All above whilst the day's delights
Now disappears from mortal sight.

Faded away is the sun's power,
Taking the stage now is night's sallow flower;
Now mortals may behold the stars and falling shower.

Set in a pit Nature's skyscraper ablaze
And revel in the emanating heat as you gaze,
Looking down on occasion when you hear a crack from the fire
And witness "fireflies" flying away from mother's blaze;
Dying shortly after but not lacking burning beauty do they desire!

I look out towards the teasing shore
And meditate as we sit upon her door,
Thinking on what my future has in store;
Who I am now and even

Why meI wanted sleep very badly
I tried my hardest to rest
I closed my eyes and laid there
But sleep didn’t come easy
I would doze off
And wake back up
Again
Why me? When I know I have to be up at 3 AM.

Seaside HolidayI am content
to stay
a caterpillar

Who says
you have
to change?

What's so great
about being
a butterfly?

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Sea of silhouettesWith blue eyes
I
am
lost at sea.
It's so hard to find words that explain perfection
when
you're
looking up at me.
Resting your head on my chest,
I start to confess,
"You're more precious then silver,
and as rare as gold."
Butterflies start to tear up my stomach
leaving me with urges that couldn't be controlled.
So we got closer where we could see eye to
eye,
asking ourselves if destiny was something we could deny.
In the silhouette of the blank tv screen
I tasted heaven and felt the clouds.
I've never felt this close to you,
not even in a dream.
So
I
held

Curtains for certainPull me out of the crowd
and tell me the gossip
that was spilled across this crowed room
We trace lips with the grace of ships sinking
just to leave one another thinking
of how it
(should of been)
(could of been)
love is so subtle without the sin
We'll speak with words that we want to hear
and as midnight draws near we bother get caught up in a glance
and everything seemed all to clear
Destiny could be the end of me
while deja vu spells disaster for you
It's curtains for certain for our dearest
lovers and liars,
and its last call for our deepest of fe

the finer parts of broadwayLips chizzled to perfection with a chainsaw
i bet you feel pretty now, but where does your heart lie?
So here i am just watch me give it my all
tearing all pictures that held these walls together by their seams
but ill pull some string and try and end things
leaving ths a cursed reahersal before the opening night
There will be beautiful sights mixed with spinning lights
while i drink my self into this gutter
I'll tell myself i'll be fine and that you were ment for broadway
so
to
you
heres a toast and ill meet you in the styx

live from the guillotineHere is stand , screaming my insides out at the setting sun
and as you fall asleep i sit
writing in bold letters
"notice me"
my heart climbs to my throat
Can you hear me?
Did my screams get carried to you on the horizon?
"questions"
"questions"
Push the air out of my lungs
and in this exhoustion my own shadow turns on me,
"you'll never have her, for you are as hollow as glass
and just as fraile"
I start to believe my thoughts will have it out for me
while being my only company
so ill find a comfortable spot against this locked

love is an atomic bombIgnore the subtitles
and head right for the vitles.
I knew that depriving my self of oxygen
would lead to you letting me down again.
With the thickest of hearts
and our poor excuses for romantic starts
we'd end up separate
but somewhat equal in the end.
A ceremony we'll never attend
a love letter with a point to intend
that love shouldnt be something to send.
With the quickest of hearts
and our unforgettable favorite parts
we'd end up somewhat together
now and forever....

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The true me

by ~Love-is-vengeance, Jul 2, 2005, 5:26:54 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

A letter....
adressed to whoever....
this is the last....
time that you'll see this writing....
(the last chance i gambled with)
to fix the boken parts and patch the holes....
Im giving up on sending the letters.....
that no one cares to open....or to read....
i thought that this pen could solve my problems......
but this pen bled to much before it had a chance to finish my book of troubles.....
but the biggest problem....
(and number one on my list)
is me....
I found the reason for the disaster....
me being weak....
(and poorly peiced together)
they found the evidence that linked me to the crime.....
I couldnt find the words to show my innocense.....
(but there were none)
Im a carefully constructed disaster....
with devistation as my last name.....
and angel....
P.S. welcome to ground zero and the body count is one.....

The true meby ~Love-is-vengeance

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

what i am.....

~flawlesssenseofstyle Jul 3, 2005

wow thats really good

~Love-is-vengeance Jul 2, 2005

"and angel....
P.S. welcome to ground zero and the body count is one...."
this one? wait of course sorry ummmmm thanks im thinkin about changing that in my book of poems any suggestions? it would help

~SubduedPromises Jul 2, 2005 Hobbyist Writer

i love the last line

~Love-is-vengeance Jul 2, 2005

and angel....
P.S. welcome to ground zero and the body count is one.....
this line?? if so thanks!! it took like an hour of scrambling words around

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