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Home - A Concrete Poem i am
empty without your
familiar ground, and exhausted from
standing so far away, my beautiful
home. muffled are the moonlit
cries of wolves as my harsh
yearning does nothing
but snow inches upon
inches and ice-over all
the hurt i had held so
tightly against me,
stumbling through the
present. i want to turn
and wander back to you,
oh homeland, oh frozen one.
how i miss your cold embrace.
A Question of WorthA Question of Worth
i'm begging myself to give up.
i'm begging you to pretend.
the wash of days, the pain of
your eyes, is poisonous.
i am furious. i want to loathe you.
i am heartbroken. i only want love.
the burden of these emotions
seems to be rotting me away.
i wish i could have saved myself.
i wish i would have ignored it:
the cascading volume of your
voice: like a stereo in my memory.
i've been running in place, my love,
and you've begun to resemble a curse
rather than a sweet opportunity.
please, someone end this hurt.
hatred begins to plague me.
if i can't love you, anger will help
to cleanse your rubble from my heart.
you're not worth it. you're not worth it.
Happy RebirthdayHappy Rebirthday
you said no.
i finally stood up
from the shadows,
and you said no.
we were on the eve
of a glorious morn.
now our morning
is my mourning.
my hands shook
and my gaze averted
from the deep pools
of your sacred eyes.
and as you made
no move to stop,
i followed you to the
door. it closed on me.
the answers aren't real.
you haven't given me all
of what i wanted yet.
i demand a better ending.
i am so tired of the drag
and drop of the sun
through the days i wait
for you to come around.
oh yeah. oh yeah."
fade. a new song begins.
Classics of the UnrequitedClassics of the Unrequited
unreachable one of my tortured heart,
don't mock me with your glances.
when our eyes meet, there is only less
hope in my head left for us.
i've come to see that behind my planning,
behind the "maybe" and the "tomorrow",
i am deathly afraid of you. so please,
come to me only with affection.
this is my second winter of hunting.
you are gorgeous, my prey. you are wild.
and through the ivory, clouded winds,
my hands tremble only to hold you.
it's too cliché, isn't it? perfect in flaw.
you're the football player with your pack
of ravenous little minions: friends,
and i am alone.
and so i wait. and i watch. and i wait.
the days filter through the hallway windows
and rest their heads on the pains panes.
my cold, dry patience fades to hopelessness.
deep beneath it all, i know it won't end well.
i know you're going to tear my heart
and leave me forever unrequited.
i know that one day i will despise you.
do you even care?
why is it t
Persistence: The Ache of OptimismPersistence: The Ache of Optimism
inside the sanctuary of optimism,
our galaxies clashed in crowded hallways.
i spoke, and you looked away, ignorant.
i tasted the sweetness of simplicity
in our out-of-body conversations
and i can't help but want to hunt you.
your coyotes cackle and bark,
their mouths dry: their heads brainless.
the laughing can't stop me. it can't stop me.
sometimes i wonder if i've got you
in the lovely trap of my glances, my smiles,
but the tide just keeps turning: shifting with the wind.
i overcame my fears! i vanquished the
little voice within that stopped me from pushing,
fighting forward to your voice.
oh, the cascade of sand.
like an hourglass. like wind-whipped deserts.
the sound of your replies is like candy.
i am in love with the chase. i need to
hang on. i just need to cling a little longer.
"i just wanted you to hear me say it."
so tell me, quickly before the final bells sound,
do you love me too? can you love me back?
my powerlessness stings
like the winter air
that still plagues my worn heart.
the past is like a wound,
throbbing and burning.
sometimes i wish i could have
gone deaf for just one moment...
i begged for the future to take me
to a place where scars
melted into smiles and happy eyes,
but the snow shows me no mercy.
my monologues won't save me,
especially when no one will listen.
my poems can't deliver me
to the heaven in your arms.
you ARE my happiness.
sometimes i wish i could just
tie you down and make you hear
my words as they reveal my frustration.
more than anything, i want to catch you
in my net, in my trap, in my gaze
and place a kiss upon your ethereal lips.
i want the fireworks of our firsts to light the way.
i could look at you
for the rest of my life
and never want to stop.
an endless world is painted
like softness over invincibility
in the irises of your bright eyes.
i stood for a thousand years
inside shadows of fallen leaves loves:
reread their pages until erosion took the words.
i could trace my hand
over the curve of your jawline
for as long as my muscles would let me.
you, so (dare i say it?) perfect, emerged
from beneath the bitterness, the ignorance,
i held so dearly: like a jewel, like a stone.
all the hurt that had laced my iron cage
evaporated, and the hate i bore simmered
into calmness, simplicity, and a new best friend.
i could lie in your arms
for a million star-dressed nights
and never tire of your embrace.
and though my mind can deceive me,
i like to think that you're gong to be
the "one", the "actual", the "realistic and perpetual".
i could love you forever.
the fire that sparks between us
could burn, high and strong, for eterni
Dark TonesDark Tones
grey of winter.
her soul coughs out
the poisons that simmer
within the rising white banks.
ever-growing is the thought
that something is beginning here.
these hallways smell of life:
a calm drowse laced with noise.
the windows are fogged
with my breath. i'm standing here
so still, my eyes searching: wild.
connection! i need a connection!
i hunt for silly, stupid things.
things i know will not satisfy me
things that can't satisfy the hunger.
i yearn for simple glances smiles?
dark tones, low music, they hum
like brown, dry leaves on the wind.
the winter to begin the trend, the cycle
starts with the reverberations of your voice.
stop slithering to me with your
crooked, v-like, triangle smile
asking me for an earful of gossip.
my woes are my own!
my soul, brimming with hate and
unrequited love, is not a newspaper.
take your secretive sources:
your eye-witnesses, your spies,
and mumble amongst yourselves.
my obsession is my own!
my wasting, my missing, my longing...
have no business in your rat-like ears.
retreat to your pack of coyotes
and tell them of how i growled back:
of how i snapped at your heels as you fled.
*Past and Present*One hundred years ago
When summer cast golden glow
Weeping willows, river side
Cast gentle shade, punts could glide.
Mild, quiet summer day
Strawberry smell and smell of hay
Silken dress on a boat
Shaded by parasol, afloat.
Today loud music rocks river
Weeping willows really weep
T/shirt slogans, blue jean rule
Now we’re noisy but very cool.
Poem for Lou ReedTruly singular, an outsider’s outsider,
He learned well life’s hard truths, and was walking proof that
Your thoughts are only as deep as your faults.
Subjected to psychic savagery in his youth,
His mind took on an ever-changing persona
Always shifting between fame and failure.
A misfit, a hustler, a rake, a transformer,
A rogue, but not a charlatan, an objector,
But not a coward, never a coward.
An expert spinner of verse, he possessed a knack
For feel, impact, attitude, style; he always knew
Which words were those worth the listener’s while.
His means and his methods were fittingly erratic:
He would spend his days crafting curiosities
Only to then neglect and forget them.
What was important, though, wasn’t his works or quirks,
Nor his talent for causing a storm at a stroke,
But what he and his friends set in motion.
They would, unwittingly, forever change the way
We’d hear the sounds the mind thought it already kn
A Poet's EchoCan poetry be felt in the blood, in the veins
with each lyric being harmonized through dreams slain
Each epic speaking of places both far and nigh
With each melancholic elegy seeping pain?
Can verse performed by thunderstorms in the sky
Be what compels us to express our hearts, to cry?
How many poems have been written using tears
As ink, written until our souls have been bled dry?
Have decades of weeping filled the seas with our fears
And our nightmares penetrated mountains likes spears?
Can a poet's echo resound beyond the chain
Of mortality and fate's tyrannical leer?
The Beginningons ago, before time and space,
Was born a set of twins who took its place.
One had eyes of daybreak and hair of sun,
The other, hair of night and eyes of blood.
Born to Laelia, Singer of Light and Love,
Husband to Laelius, God who rules with a fitted glove.
‘Twas a difficult birth, screams echoed through the empty world,
But Laelia was never alone or so the story told.
Lucifer was first, life entered with hollow cries,
Laurentius was next, his smiles greeted by butterflies.
Both welcomed with joyous celebration.
Excited Laelius, humans, his creation.
The Twins then never left each others sides.
Except when heavy choices caused morals to collide.
Death's LoveHe obtained a frightening manifestation
And held the power of creation
Without creating a new individual but becoming something with a strong relation
That kept a sturdy foundation,
As his cells connected, broke apart, and were destroyed during his formation.
Before me he stood, light lurking within his eyes, speaking of temptation.
Then, the déjà vu was overpowering, a suffocating and heartbreaking sensation.
Death played with an individual that people see as a cremation
And how I see as a pure, devilish damnation,
Where I can only vision the house it lived in, being eaten in a conflagration.
The appearance, however, delivered me into salvation,
That, alone, was enough to wash away any frustration.
The longer I stared, the more I studied, there was an alteration
In the depths of my concentration,
Where I began to piece together an understanding of admiration
That Death had somewhere in preservation.
His corpse-like figure had the power of reincarnation
And how he changed for
Why I Hold On TighterThe gunshot echoes penetrating the air,
Increasing tensions in military warfare.
Knives that puncture and slice apart,
Fists of rage that damage skin and heart.
Explosions and smoke so sudden and fast,
No time to recover from the devastating blast.
A moment frozen in time after the disease diagnosed,
Tears falling on a body lifeless and comatose.
Car horns and screeching wheels on the pavement so loud,
Two victims of a crash of the rain from a cloud.
Though all of these things do not fill me with fright,
It is to you, my dear, they make me hold tight.
Vulnerable YouthPaper hearts from bright pink tissue meant for presents,
fanciful butterflies from orange dashed cardboard,
five petaled flowers danced around the sentence
of simplicity, ultimately to discard.
Tender thoughts from censored, guarded minds,
boldly do the simple stubby fingers strive to hide
the gift from Mommy, so that she can't find
the secret depth of the darkest snide.
The gentle pressure of acknowledging gestures
even the meaningless thank you cards
meant to send you on emotional adventures,
only to be shredded on cynical hearts' shards.
But it is the thought that counts,
those sweet little eyes haven't yet been renounced.
NeedlesThe meat is cold from bloodless lust
My organs are damaged
Path be taken down range-
-And end with chilling wall
Forest of needle spires climb
My height cannot ask
Deem the stars they point-
-For reverence physical
Destroyed as winter comes
Invested into my stock
I am bought and brought home
With no escape from the lock
Needle sew a coat of iron
Black with the char left by
Remembrance make me a scion
And kindle a soul inside
Lids have shut and no key breaks
I cannot see between blades
Cut the night to ribbons-
-Now banners to losing way
Imposing in my blindness wait
My feet are icy cold
The forward march is death incarnate-
-Though I am numb to catch
A fabric stolen mask and clothe
The boundary pointed shed
Once streamers bleeding dry wove
The semblance of disjointed ends
No try can match the mind at work
For ochre has my pallor drained
This raiment bears a doubting murk
Through glacier impassive face
My asking wanes with setting freeze
The armour frozen bites
A pleading body already w
I've Changed (poem)I've Changed
i change the color of my eyes
for my world looks so askew.
maybe i'll feel better if i'm
violet, red, or blue.
i change the color of my skin
to blinding ivory: snow.
every winter clings to me
and i want everyone to know.
i change the color of this room
to kill the normal: insincere.
if everything is fake,
i have nothing left to fear.
ReflectionsVal's pursuit led him to the foul beast's domain. The hollowed-out cavern reeked of blood and rancid meat. The dim light he had seen as he charged through the tunnel after the monster could now be identified: torches. Rows of mysteriously lit torches lined the walls of the huge cave. At its center was a substantially large labyrinth of mirrors.
He spotted the beast entering.
He spun his silver broadsword in his hand and hurried in behind it.
His garb was a simple blue and white crusader's leather with thick armored pads and reinforcing steel studs. Lightweight and flexible, but quite effective defense against blunt blows and – in a pinch – the slashing claws of the unholy spawn of the earth. All monster-hunters wore a similar variety in Val's experience. It would serve him well in these close quarters of the mirrored maze.
Right, left, forward, left, right he turned, always catching a glimpse of the beast's tail as he wove his way through the corridors. Every so often he sp
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