February 2012
181 posts
3 tags
I go through nights...
standingonskyscrapers:
I go through nights where I can listen to one song over and over again, simply because the melody makes me think of your hands on my waist and back. The way your fingers run, heavy, over my modest excuse for curves and pry into recesses that lead curious fingers right to my soul. And that’s not suggestive. My words are not screaming “I want to be with you! ” for once....
5 tags
I dreamt about poetry
kurus:
I dreamt about poetry it was just you and me. Dancing to the metered beats— molding similes over chocolate treats—walking along metaphor creeks trading syllabic pleasantries. As the Haiku breeze played hide and seek we tagged along towards the sonnet’s peak watching the sun rise above its couplet streams. It was just you and me cliched...
6 tags
A Portion of Distortion.
dmcdougall:
I’m a writer, I twist stories in my head. Ideas spark like a lighter, Leaving the fire to spread.
I’ll take the loneliness of my mind, And twirl it beyond eternity. Folding the agony of time Into a beautiful deformity.
I tie my memories to my actions, My thoughts to my name. I tie this noose of importance Because it just doesn’t feel the same.
-Dylan McDougall March 24 -...
6 tags
On Sleeping In
kristaa0788:
My brittle bones creak harmonies with the bed springs, singing for me to stay. The covers jovially join in, a warm symphony in C major flowing through my eardrums, begging me to sleep once more and listen to my orchestrated dreams.
5 tags
A Frustrated Muse
farrel-valorous:
I am a muse, that is sick and tired. I am looking for a poet to inspire. Not some one who simply likes words, not someone who “just” has feelings. I want a poet! You must be broken inside. You must have more than feelings, I want spiritual angst. No awkward teenage years misery. A poet must be able to inspire, touch, and enthrall. Only an experienced life member has the well for...
5 tags
Quivering.
whynotonce:
Tonight feels like
The alternate fast and slow.
My heart pounding in my throat
Heat all over my body.
A quick intake of breath
Echoed by the release of skin, bared.
Skin hands fingers nails
Tongue teeth ears arms legs
Sweat heat pressing crushing
arching gasping needing...
2 tags
Schism.
theseloosethreads:
I am two people, Stuck in one. One wants it all, and the other wants none. This wants that, That wants this. But neither truly knows, which is which. One wants chicken, and the other wants steak. But neither knows, ...
Curse of the Werewolf
poetryofthelily:
I met Beauty Under a new moon And she sang to me Sweet melody Of passion, of life, Of love. But when the moon was full The daylight far away Beast ambushed my naivety And took me as its prey. I lay motionless on the ground, (For how long I could not say) Disemboweled, bloodied, cold, My frail organs on display. My breathing began to end. But as the creature fled With my heart...
Acetic
ofbeingfound:
Quake, my knees,
shiver dear.
Oxygen bites past windowpanes,
Under warm sheets, swarm.
Listen dreamers,
As dreams might
Hide, say in a wisp of smoke,
Shimmering semi-permeable starlight
Sweet, sweet like honey,
Silvered pockets, whiskey drop
Swirling sleep into promises
That keep like aged wine.
Butter, butter cork,
And you said, ‘pass the...
deadbooks:
Massacred dreams, bite into the supple flesh of every young brain- did I mean body? I wonder how many people I can fit into my mouth- swallow up their thoughts and worship worship worship them. A bill of rights on my tongue but lock me away, I am only the product of you I am only the product of my society I am the product of all this fucking noise pollution.
4 tags
I gave you my heart
taintedwhite:
I gave you my heart in a book, But you would not read it. I gave you my heart in a song, But you would not listen. I gave you my heart in a box, But you didn’t open it. I gave you my heart in a poem, But you didn’t see it. I gave you my heart in my life, And you killed it.
8 tags
Sentient White Rose
corequintessence:
So pure a petal upon a white rose
that shoots up from tainted ground,
where past feeds present
where now feeds morrow.
So pure is the white upon that rose
that stands so tall and proud,
with thorn ubiquitously studded
with a sense of invulnerability.
So pure is the rain from the sky
that percolates through the dirt,
which forms viscous muds
which dirty all that is...
6 tags
no
outofherhead:
I don’t want a Valentine. I don’t want to be reminded of all the wonderfully romantic, Valentine’s Days, of years past. I don’t want to remember how you treated me like I was the center of your universe and how now, we barely speak to one another. Unless it’s to say fuck you, or maybe fuck you too.
Clutter
tiredfoxes:
I love your walls. You buy colorful pushpins in big buckets at discount stores and you stab them through the junk you find at the bottom of your knapsack or deep in the pockets of your old overcoats. There isn’t a bit of white paint that I can still see. I sit at the end of your bed, your floral sheets bunched up over my thighs. I make a list of your things when I can’t find my...
3 tags
inspired by louise glück.
dysphori-a:
I i feel like my life is an illusionist’s trick. what i see is not what everybody else sees. II i see cracks in the mirror, tiny little hairline fractures that spread slowly through the glass. when did they get there? was it when my fingers brushed the surface? is that how all these shards got stuck in my fingertips, and shoved down my throat? is that why the room got so so...
3 tags
inspired by louise glück.
dysphori-a:
I i feel like my life is an illusionist’s trick. what i see is not what everybody else sees. II i see cracks in the mirror, tiny little hairline fractures that spread slowly through the glass. when did they get there? was it when my fingers brushed the surface? is that how all these shards got stuck in my fingertips, and shoved down my throat? is that why the room got so so...
6 tags
"Calling A Bluff: The Beginning"
nooffswitch1227:
I.
”You’re joking, right? I mean, seriously, it’s just the wine talking,” he replied, hesitantly. She could sense his curiosity and skepticism by the longevity of the pause between her initial question and his response.
“I’m completely sober and no jokes, remember, I’m not funny,” she retorted with a chuckle and a sly grin hidden behind the anonymity of a flickering...
3 tags
xdesecrate-thru-purityx:
Orphans of the American Dream: Butterflies are Free
They assigned her spirit to a butterfly because it made them feel better that she nestled the muzzle of a gun into her long blonde hair and pulled the trigger. They now see butterflies everywhere they go and ask “Is that you, Leann?” I did not know this The day I found out she was dead We were touring Arlington...
4 tags
ik-arzu:
I have this world around me, So why am I lonely? Each road, a future memory, So why am I lonely? The wind, a reminder that I am free, So why am I lonely? A greeting from each standing tree, So why am I lonely? They say, “lost in her own home, is she,” So why am I lonely? I’ll let you know that this one’s for me; I won’t be lonely.
10 tags
"loud" by s.jones
stalactitejones:
Can you hear the calling
The beckoning to your inner being
So faint a voice
That it’s almost misleading
Can you sense the aura around you
Do you understand what it means
Can you hear the silence that surrounds you
That invades your inner most dreams
Can you stop the yearning
That’s been growing deep within
Can you find your way out
Or would you rather stay secluded...
6 tags
“don’t tattoo artists strongly
hold the desire
to draw cocks on rude customer’s...”
– Haiku Series - “Jobs”
newbeatnik
(via newbeatnik)
5 tags
verbalejaculations:
Blacked out conscience, I am spaced out by this alcohol, tripping on this thing we call true love when we are sober, but it’s only lust tonight.
10 tags
Living {Truth}
butterflyheartbeats:
I’m a force to be reckoned with
you don’t have to believe me
you don’t have to know
or see
for me to win the fight for life
honest questions only empower
I am the living proof.
Go Ahead.
Shake me to the core
Grasp me by the vocal cords
I only get stronger
I only get louder
and what you try and hide
with only eat you inside
and if you think
you can change who I...
2 tags
ineloquententity:
In pain, I don’t think about words. They simply t u m b l e ever so effortlessly from my mouth, until love causes my throat to dry and I am left gagging, probing with ink-stained fingers to vomit out some form of putrid sincerity onto the pages. The problem is, lovers only like fiction.
2 tags
Coffee and Butterflies (by the Bird)
lionessandbird:
Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about everything. I will not take you to be sincere. I’ve taken to drinking tea to soothe my battered soul when I think about you. It can barely mask the way you make me feel.
Loving you is like drinking coffee. When I think of your breath on my cheeks, it’s as if I have downed an entire pot of the lurid, black liquid. My...
For Katheryn,
j-r-morgan:
Though her breasts had grown pronounced
and wrinkles had begun to bless the creases of her smile,
though her skin was no longer soft as baby’s flesh,
slightly worn, she remained the eternally dreaming child.
And he was never too fond of sleeping children,
unable to understand the images they conjure.
He lacked all appreciation for their wonder.
She had such a refined neck
for...
5 tags
Psychoanalysis at 3
superheroish:
Breathe!
I sit up in my bed, holding my breath and then I slowly inhale. I can’t see anything in my room, but maybe that’s due to my eyes being closed. There’s residue of a memory on my mind and it’s fading away, fast.
What is it?
“I am alone in the back of a moving black car.”
Then how was the car moving?
“I am alone, except a driver, who I can’t see — wait — there’s someone...
2 tags
velixir:
Slices, oh sweet shrapnel, Cuts, hey bitter pounding hail, Dance with me now, In the sun, lets run Through drops of sky;
We can triumph our lies, Taste blue demise Piercing your cries Injected in your thighs;
Cris-cross caress, Sweaty shattered mess; The thorns in our chests Swear, I’ll confess We’re nothing, more or less.
Thief
fawnsparrows:
do you remember that time we went on a date to that retro diner? you were wearing those rugged jeans, and sneakers with the laces sloppily tied. i can’t remember if i was captivated by the intoxicating scent of your cologne, or the sharp definition of your jawline. each time our eyes met, your lips curved into that smirk and i knew i’d be damned if i kept falling deeper into...
2 tags
deadbooks:
I have collected all the dust- all the ash from the cemetery burnings and made a trail so I can remember where I am from. All the dead are still dying and I’m running out of who I am and how do I define myself? Am I the remnants of the all the others? Little pieces of their favorite things? All the soot is settling heavy on my lungs and I am struggling for breath I am struggling to...
pushandpullme:
Its midnight and I’m walking alone. The moon stares at me from behind, taunting me to go back. I left the cottage at dusk. Without saying goodbye, I packed my life away and walked to the door. He sighed in his sleep. I flicked him off and walked straight out into the warm, lazy breeze. And so I’m left to wander the side roads. I glance back every so often but it hurts too much to...
5 tags
porcelaintub:
“English speakers love to talk about the weather. It is a way of breaking the ice (starting a conversation). Friends and family talk about the weather before they discuss what’s new. Co-workers talk about the weather before starting a hard day of work. Even strangers discuss the weather.”
It’s just a matter of meteorology, she said. We live out ourselves in others, in search of...
3 tags
Doubt
raalf:
Watching through the window and lost in thoughts about all i could be, all i can be
Plans delve in knots in roads of the mind, one thought taking over another like cars on a highway
Sun reflects against a surface of the glass, overwhelming the room with light
Doubt overtakes me. Each next step is not what should be done. Its’ Wednesday
-
I try and forget, push it aside, telling...
8 tags
positivity+realism
majest:
tiny grains of realizations wash over me up to the ends of my fingertips as i grasp and hold and try to catch every single detail they slip right through the gaps
now as i look around they start to shine and sparkle where i stood waiting and watching to what move i might do i scoop the tiny things gingerly now and keep them safely in my hands
10 tags
The Phone Call
21stcenturybogart:
3rd Draft (Updated 4/9/11)
The sound of the ringing phone slices through the stillness of the early morning. She rolls over with a grunt and opens her eyes to the orange light slanting through the gap in the curtains. She coughs and reaches over to the nightstand for a tissue, knocking over empty beer cans to get at the box. The phone continues to ring and she snatches up the...
8 tags
Atrium.
fortheloveofcontradictions:
Sweet like a berry but bruised like one too, touch it at the wrong time and it just might poison you.
Your pain could’ve been avoided if you only knew that the second you rub it the wrong way it’ll rub you the wrong way too
In return. Call it a lesson learned, any time you venture off into lands that have already been burned,
Blocked or broken. Consider it a token ...
5 tags
Make music from my words
a-kiss-goodbye:
Make music from my words scattered on these pages My paragraphs need some chords Accompany my useless phrases
Add the necessary acoustics add the beat Without music these rhymes are incomplete
Spin my poetry and play along Your music opening heart’s cages Twist my words to fit your song Until they need no more changes.
please make suggestions
2 tags
I Am A Woman Like That
likeacactustree:
I am a woman like that song you wrote last night
all guttural and lacking harmony in the places that you would expect,
full of sorrowful sound tuned over bright glossy words
and surrounded in melody that is tarnished by missing syllables
or hurried breathing in between guitar strum.
I am a woman like that song that you remembered you loved
as you fell asleep, socks on,...
painting
jessiesbrain:
July 19th, 1942
Gentle brushstrokes danced across the surface of the once white canvas, smearing the haze of blues into greens and depicting a miniature of the salty sea. Slender tanned fingers grasped the worn wooden brush, embedding layer upon layer of colors. The fine bristles caressed the canvas and created the illusion of depth. Inspiration had been evading her for quite...
5 tags
Day 16: Respond to Day 15's poem with one of your...
whynotonce:
Feline
Lay your hand
On my skin
And my body unfurls
Beneath it.
Golden fire
Twists through my veins
Flows through my muscles
Sinuous, flexing
My skin
Is made paper-thin
Under your hand
My body drunk
With elasticity.
9 tags
Blood on the Boston Wharves
kabamityboom:
I was young and small and vulnerable,
and I knew not of love.
A fiery, smoldering passion I had,
and respect only for the god above.
I was free, and innocent,
immune to the deathly disease
of war, violence, and the cries
of the Revolutionaries.
Sixteen years was a delicate age.
I was a floundering, fragile little girl;
attending balls, acting as a lady,
and altogether ignorant...
3 tags
Poor Marketing Decisions
callistobiscuits:
There is a girl in a clothing advertisement in a magazine. She has red hair, stupid tattoos, and is wearing too much jewellery because that is a popular thing to do, I think. She is looking up at the ceiling with a bored look on her face. A man is sitting next to her and looks bored also. I will not buy their clothes, because I don’t want to be as miserable as they are.
1 tag
7 tags
Stitch Is.
thinkwithoutwords:
To weave a thought longer than your black hair,
I cleave through black noise like a cosmic stream,
I’ve left my right mind amazingly bare,
To heft your burdens has been my one dream,
Across these cosmos I did long wander,
Collecting the stuff of sweet and spices,
I, gathered all love for you there yonder,
So wicked a quilt, though this, my vice is,
I’ve woven you a...
6 tags
For, In The End They Left
bandofheads:
Weighed heavily is a chance unaware
Of your mental stability that you cannot share.
Chase, chase the human that’s in your life
Blindly, find love, find the sacrifice and drives you insane.
One that becomes close, then drifts away;
Leaving you guessing, leaving you at bay.
Leaving painful, restraintful, torturous thoughts
That keep the nights slow, only melancholy to show.
Become...
1 tag
wanted #6
distant-signals:
Rain on the tent, a staccato rhythm played out like hurtling heartbeats, a hundred thousand tones struck against leaf, bark, stone and wood. Darkness, cold, your breath just visible in the air. And somewhere distant, with no real menace but rather begrudging tenderness, thunder rolls through the empty woods. Ten toes in this single sleeping bag, the soft prod of your hips...
forgetlings:
(We watch each other in the wind in the stars we learn each other & something valuable is becoming true.
We pass words back & forth to learn & make them make matter so rolling your nipple in my mouth will be the swell of something valuable something that became in the closing space between us. We learn each other.
I have found my resting home on High Street not...
9 tags
No Matter what always paint the sky blue.
djloc-ness:
The color of void appears black from space but seen through our vaporous atmosphere appears blue.
Close to the horizon we get a lighter blue.
The sun is the sky’s painter and draws vivid brush strokes at the beginning of the day and night giving us alpenglow and twilight.
No matter what always paint the sky blue.
It’s just the thing we should do, the mirage we should see....
merelyamadness:
She sat down to write about innocence about the charcoal lines that eventually infringe on new-fallen snow and how one slip of a pen ruins forever a clean sheet of paper. So much is written about the loss of innocence that she couldn’t understand how to handle being the only one around who still had hers.
4 tags
When The Sky Starts Falling, I'll Save You a...
dmcdougall:
What will it taste like when I’m not around anymore? Tell me how it feels to be on the ground, Just puddles on the floor.
Twirl your memories, Twist your thoughts. Sort through what’s there, And discard what’s not.
I’ll just sit back and watch you forget about me, All your morals, And everything you said you’d be.
I’ll just speak-up. I lost my voice, But my pen bleeds louder.
...
