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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
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
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
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
SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and my frowning smile.
The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
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
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?
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
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
Onceyour beauty lies restless behind those
hills, where you fought valiantly. and
the man you once were was brave and kind,
but now you are possessed by a passenger
of darkness, whispering words of your
the man you once were is forgotten, and
the man you are today, is only a ghost, a
shadow, of what you were before.
Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,
you'd be wrapped in the sweetest
how to engulf the ocean
with your lungs
and think of how to cup it
in your hands
your broken prayers and
still be beautiful)
dance with the gypsies
(a quake in
your hips like the thrust
and the faultlines
so, so graceful)
sing with the nymphs
it's growing old,
your throat's burning dry
like a monsoon
faltering in a desert,
be nestled in a king's arms
(oh, you precious
There’s a knife turnin in my soft parts
And heat burnin my mind on hard starts
The motors runnin but I lost the wheel
Just want it to be numb don’t wanna feel
Take two steps back and put it in park
Before I leave scarred up black marks
I need a u-turn on this highway
But can’t go back on the by-way
So look ahead, the pavement goes on
Break the rear-view mirror it’s gone
Put it in drive
And say goodbye
Let’s see how fast this bitch can fly
nightmarethe foxes are at your bedside and singing--
songs of boiling thoughts
and broken muscles.
they sneak so quiet, and
you can't quite
Lost In ConfusionMy mind is spinning without a rest
emotions whirl and twirl around
A merry-go-round gaining speed
Until the world blurrs before my eyes
What's happening? What's going on?
The simplest thought slips away
Right from my mind, fading so fast
Trying to focus, I stare and stare
Until my eyes are heavy and unclear.
I don't understand, what is going on...
Emotions rise and fall again
Within the blink of an eye
I'm crying, laughing, and depressed
A rollercoaster ride that never ends
Am I losing my mind in this ?
I try to close my eyes and rest
But the world spins me around
I feel like I am failing this test
Voices and noisies echo in my min
Puppet My tears fall,
My heart beats,
because of the
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
Why me? When I know I have to be up at 3 AM.
FossilizedLiving proof of fossils alive,
and no horseshoe-crab am I.
Nor, inhabitable harsh compression of plates,
residing under humid marsh-scapes.
I mold into the walls, as chalky old coal.
But I am no mineral, no era.
I am not, Mesozoic.
Through the ages
silver, gold and heroic.
I remain a still-life; and no Iduna's apples would retain my youth
No magic fountains, or time devices, or wrist watches.
I am the machine of time.
The watcher, omnipotent, the wise.
no God am I
Somewhere, sweet tangy sap trolleys down cracked bark.
Somewhere, celestial bodies erupt unseen.
Somewhere, a abrupt breeze blows overturned bi-cycle tire
NaPoWriMo 3: Love just isYesterday he told me
we were perfect for each other.
I completed him.
Things were great.
Today he told me
we didn't belong
and two incomplete human beings
shouldn't be dating in the first place.
he still doesn't mind
filling my void
making me feel whole
provided there's no strings attached
because deep down
he wants to be a real boy.
He's trying to explain
how complicated love really is
and I tell him
it doesn't have to be.
I ask him
why can't love just be
who actually care?
Why does it have to be
Why can't it just
And he tells me
in our wor
NaPoWriMo 2: I love youI love you.
Now I know what you're thinking.
"It's too soon!",
"I don't love you back!",
"What does that mean?",
"Who the hell are you?"...
This simple three-word sentence has many meanings
And I assure you
I don't love you the same way a frat boy loves his girl of the moment.
I love you like desert reptiles love shade,
like staples love paper,
or like a child loves the color blue.
Like poets love words,
like artists love color,
and like blind people love their fingertips.
I love you.
Like waves love the sand
and in the end... gone...
but not forgotten.
I love you like
NaPoWriMo1: My Morning RoutineEyes fluttering open, I am smothered.
The sun greets me, hot, bright, and obnoxious,
highlighting me in my cocoon.
I peel the sheets back,
swing my legs over the side of my bed,
(no monsters, I checked last night)
Tall, proud, and way too tired.
The mattress and I say "oof" in unison,
and I crawl back towards my pillow.
Oh, how I've missed you!
In these past few moments, I've realized
I can't live without you.
So I put you where everything important goes:
over my face.
Pressing hard enough to make me doubt Apollo ever rose,
but light enough so I know I don't have to meet Charon just yet.
My feet sandwich t
An Existentialist Love PoemIf I was religious
I'd say it was fate,
that you were my soulmate.
As if someone spun me around in a chair
And I opened my eyes and you were right... there.
And as we said when we were kids,
all it takes is "tag" and suddenly, you're "it".
So come and get me.
Catch me in your net
like the butterflies that fill my gut
every time we make eye contact.
Scoop me up
like the sand
so I can slip between your fingers
only for you to find me hidden underneath your nails.
I am that teddy bear whose hand says "Try Me";
I just want someone to push my buttons,
someone to bug me about when we can go out
Daddy's Fallen PrincessI've seen things that stereotypes say you shouldn't
Like a fathers tears and the back of a mother's hand.
I've seen the shortest kid in class become the star basketball player
And the son of a scientist, a high school drop-out.
I've stood outside of bedroom doors, peeping inside,
Listening closely with my good ear
To things I knew I wasn't supposed to hear
Vaha kaphi samajhadaar nahi hai
Hoping they'll drop a name so I know at least who they're talking about
Because Hindi indicates private conversation
And private conversation is much more interesting
Than the grade rants my conversations with them turn into.
The last thing I need
Your tired eyesYour tired eyes, they look like dreams
And I have all of you in front of me
Because we've spent the entire night doing nothing but each other
And after you untied my laces and I began unraveling across the bed
(Despite the fact that we'd normally get fined for littering)
I could finally see you in all your glory,
No stupid t-shirt covering up who you really are;
You haven't been this naked since the day you were born.
You moved swiftly for a virgin.
Like you instinctively knew exactly what to do,
Where to move your hands;
You knew my body better than I did,
And in the end, it was all painless.
Like a -- dare I say it? -- dream co
Life starts and ends
Nana (known then to him as "mother")
took shots of it to the brain
so that she could be happy again.
But he took his intravenously,
strapped down to a chair,
his guts turned to ball lightning
and he may or may not
so dark and neat
like Moses himself
Her name was Stephanie Brooks
and she was his college sweetheart.
They dated for a year
until she dumped him
for not being ambitious.
A new girl every month
means something entirely different
to a serial killer.
Over thirty victims
in at least seven states.
How's that for ambitious?
A Reason to LiveIf only she had the guts to actually do it, to just leap among the cold waves and sink in death among the fish. She breathed in the smell and taste of saltwater, and water sprays hit her face, neck, and chest. She shivered slightly in the breeze from the waves, but she wasn’t really bothered by the chill. What weighed on her mind was something much deeper than the weather.
A pang of apprehension penetrated her heart as she envisioned her body being plunged into the water and weighted down by the strong waves. She thought about what it would be like to gulp in mouthful after mouthful of water, choking and never feeling any relief, b
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More