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Inspiration comes from the damnest placesBeauty lies, it is only what shows
Beneath it's tender reach
Passion is fire
It burns, weakens, cajoles
Some cannot handle its power
It is not for all
And can ofttimes lead to madness
In the back of all, yet few listen
Its whispers sweet, conniving, evil
Fueled by the passion,
For love and hate often look the same
When viewed through the eye of insanity
ForgivenessTake the hard way out, the high road
The path less often trod
Grudges are easy, vengeance is lazy
Involving some needless god.
Bear your burden, take your share
Put away your pride
Why let your ego run away with hate
When love sets pain aside?
In the tumultuous maelstrom of our lives
We sometimes have the choice
To ease the way for us and others
By simple act of voice.
I forgive you.
Riddle 2I stand as a wall
Protect from within
It is with my fall
The battle begins
My mortar is soft
My stone red as blood
My foundations aloft
As they'll ne'er reach the mud
Tis foolish to doubt
As long as I stand
I shall bring about
The end of all man
Who am I?
An Unsent LetterI'm out walking, the kids are being fools and watching crap tv. The weather is cool, enough so to warrant a jacket. It feels like one of our nights, a chilled fall night on the way to a tp, or a Dr. Dark.I fell that you should be with me singing "By My Side" talking about how scary the future is and how much our friends suck. You ask me to marry you when we're older. I say yes, like always. You're cold, you left your jacket behind after one of our stupid friends got it wet. You refuse mine, but I put it over your shoulders all the same. We walk behind Ben Franklin's and find something awesome near the dumpsters. It's a huge tv, still intact. We'll pick it up once we get back.
The somber attitude is stripped away as we talk of new ways to demolish it. We never will, but the brainstorming is almost as sweet as the shatter of the screen. We talk about your latest crush and my crappy taste in damaged girls. You bring up Margie, I change the subject. One of the friends we just abandoned cal
A TruthI believe...
I believe that fast cars are impractical, I believe that a normal car can get along just as well, I believe that fashion is an excuse for people to get rich by having someone buy a bag that cost $3 to make for $300, I believe in love at first sight, I believe that no governments work in favor of all the people, I believe that small groups of people should be governed by small groups of people, I don't believe that money is the root of all evil, I believe greed is in people with or without it, I believe although money is a bad thing it is still nice to have it, I believe every time you drink something other than water it lowers your life span, I believe that every drink other than water is delicious, I believe that all religions are wrong and they're just out there to make money, I believe in grammar, I believe that weed and alcohol have nearly the same effects and the government should either outlaw both of legalize both, I believe if you hate someone you should go out and
A Love PoemI hate you,
For I shall never see another in such high esteem as I do you.
As hard as I may try, there can be none that measure,
Even the slightest bit near to where you dwell in my eyes.
I cannot love another near as much you,
As my fingers dash across the keys,
Tears fall from my cheeks as I realize
There can be none before you.
You are not far, yet I could not wish you near enough.
I long to see you, to be graced with your beauty
Your charm, your love.
I feel weak imagining your embrace.
Hoping that you may visit so soon,
That I may hold you in my arms,
Never wanting anything more
Than that peace and warmth.
I feel no anger when you look at another,
Nor do you me,
And that only strengthens the bond.
Such odd love, a fruitless union that we share.
Together only in dreams.
Before you I hold no god, no spirit.
Not the moon, nor the sun,
Nor all the stars in the sky
With their mystery and wonder
Could hold me as you do.
You will never be forgotten
Not as long as I live,
I love you etern
An ApologyThe birth of a new year only marks the death of the old.
I'm glad I spent what time I did with you,
I never wanted that to happen
I just wanted to be close to you
I owe you now more than I ever have,
But I would do nothing more for you
Nothing more than I would already do
Because I would do anything for you
We check each others sanity,
And keep the good in balance
What would we do without the other?
Would we even still breath?
That feelingAs I lay, my face feels feveredly aflame from my affliction. Fortunately my migrained mind moves me to better places. Because of the pain, my poetry is kaput, but prose is possible; so I write on better days and flightier feelings. I made this work for whomsoever may lie with a man or could transpose the work to a woman.
There is a feeling that you get. You know the one, and if you don't then I hope that you may transcend to it soon. When you lie there facing him, and your eyes are closed. You could be wrapped in fabrics or as bare as the day you were born. Your mind doesn't wander to your troubles. No. The only time is now, and the only place is here, and there is no one but the two of you. His arms hold you and they are strong; not with physical strength, but with the protection they offer your body, soul, mind, and heart. You feel his fingertips gently touch your cheek and slowly run down it till he holds your chin. He tilts your head up and brushes his soft lips against yours. With
I want to beI want to be...
I want to be with you.
I want to be beside you.
I want to be talking to you.
I want to be embracing you.
I want to be locking lips with yours.
I want to be in your arms when I cry.
I want to be holding your hand when you say, "I love you"
I want to be at your place, without your mother there, just hanging out.
I want to be in you, under you, over you, and all around you.
I want to be there to comfort you when you cry.
I want to be looking into your eyes.
I want to be learning about you.
I want to be held by you.
I want to be holding you.
I want to be yours.
Change this lifeHiding in the shadows
Resisting in secrecy
Trying to find a way
To change this life of misery
The future is unknown
The past is to forget
The present is dull and boring
Is this what life has to offer?
I want to change
And I keep trying
Only to fail miserabily
Every single time
eight ways you've made me small1. I wish
this was for you.
2. my journal pages - the
brown one with all our monologues -
were jarred with hollow vows of
last poems of
letting you slip into a coma
of bad memories, watching you
fall to your death off
a cascading cliff of disease
and dis ease.
it was never
easy for me
3. there's a reason I ask
whether you're grey
(dark white, elusively black, in between)
or blue (behind the clouds, under wave-foam,
whateverthefuck runs through the back of my
palms); I'd rather have
than the arms
that once held you half-
heartedly. you had always been
my harmony and I
would have killed
to have been yours.
4. it could never have been just me, the way
it could never have been just
5. disasters are not beautiful,
but how is it that you
managed to make my inner linings
converge into bows
and explode into wings the very
night you decided to rebuild your walls
to a lower height?
6. I wish
on bradbury and table dancingYou are not a wordsmith
whatever you might like to think. ('Smith'
indicates precision and coldness and fire:
words are softer than that unless you mold them strong.)
It's a difficult road to follow, and not many
make it past the fork. Choose a path,
Janus says, whirligig keys spinning on his shoulders:
I am a wordworker, with my tools too crude, forming
rough-edged carvings painted with pretty imagery.
Notebooks scattered across the landscape
of a child's room, to be stumbled across,
read, red-penned, in the thick and choking breath of night.
When the bough breaks
a hanged man laughs. He carries typewriters
in his pockets, and cigarettes in the soles of his shoes.
I will never be a word mistress,
whoring myself to the speech of people I do not know and will never know me.
The oven is set to Fahrenheit 452, but the words were already aflame
before they ever took shape under your tongue.
You love everything they've ever written, and carry
unabashed loathing for every syllabl
Whenever I hurt myselfI have a feeling
Someone is watching
So I look around
But there's no one to be found
ExpirationWith you I always feel like I’m
to break in the wrong size of shoes.
Sometimes I sit and stew
over how you’re seventeen and
you think I’m a princess
the trapped-in-a-tower kind
and how you wear suits and talk about politics
and think you know the world.
My throat interrupts with an affronted gurgling sound
sometimes when I think about you,
you deal out advice where it just isn’t called for
you quote science-fiction to justify war
and you’re seventeen years old and you think I’m a princess
and you just have no blooming idea.
Darling, one of these days I will tell you my mind
But until then we’ll never fit
I’m afraid –
that even after that day
you’ll still be trimmed hedges and
when i stimulated the prayers of rib-beat
when i licked the temple of my teeth,
speed pushed my fingers shaped like confessionals
clasped holy, carved my throat to fixing-
lover; i did this for the anthem of your eyes,
the feel of strangled feet crushing the fame of stars
for the glow of streetlight worship, for the moons
of your crooning throat, for the halls of your arms,
the strayed revels of your arms,
lover: you manufactured a god out of the drugs i used
and had me addicted to the divine, to the dignity of music
you pressed in my direction: just what i am, hallelujah,
marijuana, day and night-
lover, i fell in love with your culture
that preached the real definition of dusked kneecaps,
the plea of closeted throats, the whisper of bless,
unlearning how to say please god in borrowed tongue,
i fell in love with your attention, with nervous grace
lover. i levied the rubble of my sins
Even The City KnowsIs it at all easy?
Being by yourself, I mean.
Sitting in a car, on a train, on a bus--wherever you might be now, isn't it hard to be a drifter?
There are no men with newspapers, no women with strollers, no love-crazy teenagers, no annoying toddlers, no anybody.
You stare out the window, like there are people out there, calling your name. The trees are out there, and they've lost all their leaves, all their buds--they've lost everything, just like you.
The sky is out there, and it's gray and colorless, just like you.
The stars are out there, and they're so blown-out-of-proportion, and they're just like you, too.
But the trees, the skies, the stars, they're used to being left alone.
You lack the ebullience of your drink, but it, too, is fading.
Frost has gathered on windows, on the ground, on rivers, everywhere.
Frost comes and goes, just like you, when you finally melt away.
The city draws to darkness and quiet--it disappears, just like you.
But, even frost
Death to the LoversHe screamed,
He tore his hair from his scalp;
But it didn't bring her back.
The beautiful girl
With the gorgeous smile
And witty remarks
Would always lay six feet under.
She would lie in her death bed,
Her arms folded on her chest
And her face full of peace
Known only to the dead.
He would be the first to rot.
First his health,
Then his sanity.
She would forever feed on his emotions
Like a pretty little leech,
Sapping his well being
And happiness from her underground world.
And he would let her,
For a fool like him
Who allowed himself to love,
What is good enough and what is lacking
Why in pain do we seek agony again
To stay or flee, neither is easy
Missed assumptions, and being just friends
Sickness and health, all in the mind
A wish is lost, a scar is gained
No assurance, nothing is final
Bridges built, yet little remains
It's worth it
Every pain, every wound
The nights up thinking
The sad circles in our heads
All lead back to the same conclusion
The shit we endure won't always lead to the promised land
But in each of our paths there will be recourse
Different by the context of our own need
We can find it
We will find it
I will find it
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More