You're Next to Me.

I sit here. Dwelling. Thinking. Listening. Breathing.
The warmth hits my frost bitten toes, my frost bitten face, my frost bitten
Heart?
Hm, well...that's something of a stretch.
"Shut me out"
Her voice says, screams, echoes, chimes,
Somehow it speaks to me.
Something about this girl's high pitched whining says something.
Something meaningful. something full of want. Full of craving.
Full of music. Full of the gusto I wish I could muster.

Reading between the lines is a great thing,
Especially if your a writer.
Like me.
If I told you how I felt straight up, you'd laugh at me.
You'd make fun of me for trying to talk to you.
You'd poke at me with that stick of ignorance your parents gave you.

Aphroditie and Lancelot. (Oh... How good are you.)

Highest point of the night,
Swiping at my card,
Grasping at my lips, my jeans, my cunt.
My wallet couldn't be further away;
The little pills I need to feast upon are too much for me to bear!

This raw dick grazing the insides of my lustfully inclined soul.
(call me vulgar all you wish,
But you sick bastards pray that I'm the dish
You sink your fingertips, your mushroom tip and tongue tip
Into.)
It's so hot,
It's so warm,
It's so strong.
Compared to my weak and pathetic craving of his thick long cock.

Am I reduced to this?
A wanton woman of carnal glee?
Or am I love-starved?
Fiendish intentions are clawing at my back.
The base of my brain, BURNS
For this delicious phrase of Love.

Whisper your sweet nothings down my throat,
To the swell of my breath,
To the arch of my back,
and down into my heart,
Like the sweat that pours from your face and
The palms of my hands.
Kiss them like pearls
FEAST on me as though I were your last meal!

I need it.
Your love, like a coke-head scrounging up for change.
make me yours.
devour me.
eat this soul wrapped in cashmere sheets of skin.


xx

Supercalafragalisticexpialadocious.

I can't being to start rattling off.
My mental capacity of random information,
Like a verbal mouse, squeaking and scurrying like
The fabric of the soles of your shoes.

These pants feel tight,
This ring feels like it's eating my thumb
In a hungry notion of a ravished child of African
Natures.
Mothering his extended stomache like a fowl Stillborn
Ingrown fetal matter to the side of your guts.

This, child, so to speak;
Is the bane of my poetical mind.
This,
Child.
Green and leafy, like they should be
Total rapture in its' caress.
Like a ragged silken rope
Tightening around your neck, reminding you
Of

Corprate necktie wearing
Jurers that make this malcontent thing of beauty
Die.
Wither
Like the waters of the mother's afterbirth placenta.

Scorning The Lolita [original]

The smell of her perfume makes it hard to breathe at night.
The overbearing scent of patchouli
and gardenia isn't a smell
A nose like mine can handle.
Scorning the lolita, was what it was called;
The beauty on the walls of
bloody scents of ambergris, musk and dead flowers
Spin the heads of millions.
They drowned her head into
that puddle of intoxicating vomit.
Doused, doused, doused.
Drown, down, down.
Let's see how far she can swim,

---------------scorning the lolita

For Roezi [original]

A flutter of the lashes,
A wisp of words from that mouth and I could die.
Swing the hair around your face and grin,
You could kill an entire group of men,
With a stare

Can I dance with you?
Elegant little queen
Of vintage, Siouxie Sioux, and Hookah smoke.
You look lovely tonight by the way.

Your dress...are you getting married?
White virginal cotton on pale vampiric skin,
The red lips give it away,
You're such a model, it pains me to take my eyes off of you.

You little heartfelt tart.

~

Well... To Start off...

I am terribly sorry I haven't posted anything from my vaults OR from Stumbleupon OR other sources of poetic lust and love. I feel sort of bad :/ Well, look forward to some meaty and some lusty poems in the next few days~! I, hopefully, will find some old peices you may like and some new ones you will be fond of ~

Til then

The Management.

This isn't poetry. This is free verse.

What I hate about me.
My crybaby attitiude.
My whimpy defense with myself and my emotions.
My way of overlooking simple things.
My way of talking to some people I love.
My hair.
My body.
My ankles.
My scars.
My stretch marks.
My mother and my childhood.
the way I overreact to the tiniest things, and break down and cry.
the way I overthink.
Dissappointing you.
Hurting you.
Making you upset.

The things i love about me.
My creativity.
My determination.
My singing.
My acting.
My dancing.
My big heart.
My face.
My lips.
My taste in books, music, and art.
You.
My life.
How I fight for what I think is right, even til the
bitter end.
Being able to hear your voice.
My handwriting.
My stinginess with money...most of the time.
The way I smell.
How I sleep.
How I walk.
How I hold a pen/pencil/your hand.
My eye for detail.
How I hug.
How I cry.
How I dress.

Things I want to change.
How I overthink things
How I look
How I can stop disappointing you, making you mad...

Things I'd never change.
How you love me
How I love you
How we're friends
How I make friends
How I laugh
How I like to make lists but never read them again.

Welcome To The Earth [original]

dancing, she danced so sensual.
moving, she moved against me.
loving, she loved me no more.
needing, she needed me so.
vanishing, she vanished from my hands.

sweating, i left a trail of sweat against the door.
viewing, i knew i wanted to watch her, my little whore.
cursing, i cursed the day she said 'I do'.
yearning, i want to taste her skin again.
needing, i need her to be here it hurts.

craving, our bodies bump against each other in the dark.
longing, she longed to rip out her eyes.
wanting, i wanted to hold her and claw out her heart.
thriving, living through each other we grow into a twisted shape.
Gone. We live forever in the dust of the earth.

An average graduate's morning [original]

Hot cup of tea;
Cool mug of cold cereal;
Sounds of a small boy shrieking in the back;
means its summer.

Television on a chef couple
Cranking out some chow
You wish you could have;
all while you debate
"When do I go and do some Yoga"
(Or whatever you do)

Four walls, from wake til sleep;
Home, comfort,
(Oh look! She's making peach iced tea... my favorite)
My eyes burn when they hit the outside.
What's gonna happen to me?
When the school kids start their schooldays
when graduates try to find work,
try to get into class?

Hm, you tell me.
This is all a part of a test,
This too shall pass.

E.E Cummings- the boys i mean are not refined

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit
one carves a cross on her behind
they do not give a shit for wit
the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck
who cannot read and cannot write
who laugh like they would fall apart
and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined
they cannot chat of that and this
they do not give a fart for art
they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind
they do whatever's in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance

----
Another one I found on StubleUpon :] Find the most interesting poetry on there (and then some!!) I enjoyed this piece too, although it's rather crude >///<
Enjoy, my readers~

-Fey Absynthe

E.E Cummings- i like my body when it is with your

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh… And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

----
I found this piece very sensual and a little funny with his word play :]
I enjoyed it a great deal, stumbled upon it while being bored out of my mind.
Hope you like it, my readers!

-Fey Absynthe

Feed Me With Love [Inspired by blackfantastix on dA]

Feed me with love,
like a demon in the night,
looking for a virgin,
so succulent and tight.
Feed me with love,
like a man to the girl,
wrapping fingers firm,
around her stocking and curl.
Feed me with love,
you little delicious whore,
feed me with love,
for I know you are worth more
Than harsh words or harsh names
(So goes the beautiful and tart like dames.)
So feed me with love,
like a hawk to a dove.

-x

The little things you do that go unnoticed
I appreciate them, all the same.
I love how you stroke my neck,
My cheek or the hair from my face.
I love how you rub my back when you
Know I'm having a shitty day;
And I love how you know
the right things to say.
I love how you let me write little notes on paper
Just for you to read;
I adore how you know
Exactly what I need.
I know I am a bother, an annoyance and a bore
But I know no matter what WHAT
you love me more and more.

Spam Haiku

when I came across this, I just so happend to think of my childhood and my grandmother. Spam, that salty, easy to fry, mystery meat...has a poetry following!!

Pink tender morsel,
Glistening with salty gel.
What the hell is it?

Ears, snouts and innards,
A homogeneous mass.
Pass another slice.

Cube of cold pinkness
Yellow specks of porcine fat.
Give me a spork please.

Old man seeks doctor.
``I eat SPAM daily'', he says.
Angioplasty.

Highly unnatural,
The tortured shape of this ``food''.
A small pink coffin.

decadence at a heart's glance

Silently, I ponder.
Mythic waves of sleep are asunder,
Crashing into my conscious state.
Lover thine, so fair and fine,
All good poets know...
Why can't I stop saying how I love you so
like the birds love the wind,
or sirens love the men
who enter their trap with a swish of their hand
How, or why can't the owls cry?
and the wolves scream out the words I long to say?
The feelings I long to scream?
No one & nothing can compare
To the autumn gold that runs through your hair...
The glistening ocean that is dripping from your eyes...
Those rosy plums that spew the songs so sweet from thine mouth...
The porcelain touch that is your hand...
and the way you say I LOVE YOU, so sweet and fair.
Your flaws and gorgeous beauties that the Gods bestow
are everything I accept and hold, o ho,
to the highest pedestal and elevation
That only the decedant love Gods can give me salvation
from this earthy infatuation
that is an intoxication to my heart mind body and soul...
that is our romance that will always grow.
--xx

Haiku Forge: Moments lost in time.

http://www.haikuforge.com/
this is an interactive haiku website; it's gorgeously created

Sara Teasdale, THE LOOK

STEPHON kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.

Stephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day.

in kink and love (original)

I have a loving master,
who is strong like Zeus himself. He
caresses me with violent flogs and
puts me high upon a shelf. I
am his favorite pet. Love,
please, make love to me? The
request I made will follow under Kama Sutra moments. Welts
upon my bum are straight from his hand. This
little pet is so affectionate to a boy so wild and free.

I am a little pet,
a damsel to a man
who strokes my skin and my heart
tenderly, lovingly, leaving bites (our little kisses) everywhere.
He kisses me, he pets me. I concur with strokes to his face and ego.
Knowing we are complete, in kink and love.
-xx

Another from Pablo Neruda

(English Translation)
I Like You When You Are Quiet

I like you when you are quiet because it is as though you are absent,
and you hear me from far away, and my voice does not touch you.
It looks as though your eyes had flown away
and it looks as if a kiss had sealed your mouth.

Like all things are full of my soul
You emerge from the things, full of my soul.
Dream butterfly, you look like my soul,
and you look like a melancoly word.

I like you when you are quiet and it is as though you are distant.
It is as though you are complaining, butterfly in lullaby.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
let me fall quiet with your own silence.

Let me also speak to you with your silence
Clear like a lamp, simple like a ring.
You are like the night, quiet and constellated.
Your silence is of a star, so far away and solitary.

I like you when you are quiet because it is as though you are absent.
Distant and painful as if you had died.
A word then, a smile is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it is not true.


(In Original Spanish)
Me Gustas Cuando Callas

Me gustas cuando callas porque estas como ausente,
y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.

Como todas las cosas estan llenas de mi alma
emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mia.
Mariposa de sueno, te pareces a mi alma,
y te pareces a la palabra melancolia.

Me gustas cuando callas y estas como distante.
Y estas como quejandote, mariposa en arrullo.
Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:
dejame que me calle con el silencio tuyo.

Dejame que te hable tambien con tu silencio
claro como una lampara, simple como un anillo.
Eres como la noche, callada y constelada.
Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo.

Me gustas cuando callas porque estas como ausente.
Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.
Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.
Y estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto.

Love Sonnet XI, By Pablo Neruda

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

Read more: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/love-sonnet-xi/#ixzz0s4chol00

13 writing tips from Chuck by Chuck Palahniuk

I love Chuck :] His writing is so amazing and maybe his tips could help with writing poety? Who knows. But here is something I stumbledupon this morning :D enjoy~!


13 Writing Tips
Chuck Palahniukby Chuck Palahniuk

Twenty years ago, a friend and I walked around downtown Portland at Christmas. The big department stores: Meier and Frank… Fredrick and Nelson… Nordstroms… their big display windows each held a simple, pretty scene: a mannequin wearing clothes or a perfume bottle sitting in fake snow. But the windows at the J.J. Newberry's store, damn, they were crammed with dolls and tinsel and spatulas and screwdriver sets and pillows, vacuum cleaners, plastic hangers, gerbils, silk flowers, candy - you get the point. Each of the hundreds of different objects was priced with a faded circle of red cardboard. And walking past, my friend, Laurie, took a long look and said, "Their window-dressing philosophy must be: 'If the window doesn't look quite right - put more in'."

She said the perfect comment at the perfect moment, and I remember it two decades later because it made me laugh. Those other, pretty display windows… I'm sure they were stylist and tasteful, but I have no real memory of how they looked.

For this essay, my goal is to put more in. To put together a kind-of Christmas stocking of ideas, with the hope that something will be useful. Or like packing the gift boxes for readers, putting in candy and a squirrel and a book and some toys and a necklace, I'm hoping that enough variety will guarantee that something here will occur as completely asinine, but something else might be perfect.

Number One: Two years ago, when I wrote the first of these essays it was about my "egg timer method" of writing. You never saw that essay, but here's the method: When you don't want to write, set an egg timer for one hour (or half hour) and sit down to write until the timer rings. If you still hate writing, you're free in an hour. But usually, by the time that alarm rings, you'll be so involved in your work, enjoying it so much, you'll keep going. Instead of an egg timer, you can put a load of clothes in the washer or dryer and use them to time your work. Alternating the thoughtful task of writing with the mindless work of laundry or dish washing will give you the breaks you need for new ideas and insights to occur. If you don't know what comes next in the story… clean your toilet. Change the bed sheets. For Christ sakes, dust the computer. A better idea will come.

Number Two: Your audience is smarter than you imagine. Don't be afraid to experiment with story forms and time shifts. My personal theory is that younger readers distain most books - not because those readers are dumber than past readers, but because today's reader is smarter. Movies have made us very sophisticated about storytelling. And your audience is much harder to shock than you can ever imagine.

Number Three: Before you sit down to write a scene, mull it over in your mind and know the purpose of that scene. What earlier set-ups will this scene pay off? What will it set up for later scenes? How will this scene further your plot? As you work, drive, exercise, hold only this question in your mind. Take a few notes as you have ideas. And only when you've decided on the bones of the scene - then, sit and write it. Don't go to that boring, dusty computer without something in mind. And don't make your reader slog through a scene in which little or nothing happens.

Number Four: Surprise yourself. If you can bring the story - or let it bring you - to a place that amazes you, then you can surprise your reader. The moment you can see any well-planned surprise, chances are, so will your sophisticated reader.

Number Five: When you get stuck, go back and read your earlier scenes, looking for dropped characters or details that you can resurrect as "buried guns." At the end of writing Fight Club, I had no idea what to do with the office building. But re-reading the first scene, I found the throw-away comment about mixing nitro with paraffin and how it was an iffy method for making plastic explosives. That silly aside (… paraffin has never worked for me…) made the perfect "buried gun" to resurrect at the end and save my storytelling ass.

Number Six: Use writing as your excuse to throw a party each week - even if you call that party a "workshop." Any time you can spend time among other people who value and support writing, that will balance those hours you spend alone, writing. Even if someday you sell your work, no amount of money will compensate you for your time spent alone. So, take your "paycheck" up front, make writing an excuse to be around people. When you reach the end of your life - trust me, you won't look back and savor the moments you spent alone.

Number Seven: Let yourself be with Not Knowing. This bit of advice comes through a hundred famous people, through Tom Spanbauer to me and now, you. The longer you can allow a story to take shape, the better that final shape will be. Don't rush or force the ending of a story or book. All you have to know is the next scene, or the next few scenes. You don't have to know every moment up to the end, in fact, if you do it'll be boring as hell to execute.

Number Eight: If you need more freedom around the story, draft to draft, change the character names. Characters aren't real, and they aren't you. By arbitrarily changing their names, you get the distance you need to really torture a character. Or worse, delete a character, if that's what the story really needs.

Number Nine: There are three types of speech - I don't know if this is TRUE, but I heard it in a seminar and it made sense. The three types are: Descriptive, Instructive, and Expressive. Descriptive: "The sun rose high…" Instructive: "Walk, don't run…" Expressive: "Ouch!" Most fiction writers will only use one - at most, two - of these forms. So use all three. Mix them up. It's how people talk.

Number Ten: Write the book you want to read.

Number Eleven: Get author book jacket photos taken now, while you're young. And get the negatives and copyright on those photos.

Number Twelve: Write about the issues that really upset you. Those are the only things worth writing about. In his course, called "Dangerous Writing," Tom Spanbauer stresses that life is too precious to spend it writing tame, conventional stories to which you have no personal attachment. There are so many things that Tom talked about but that I only half remember: the art of "manumission," which I can't spell, but I understood to mean the care you use in moving a reader through the moments of a story. And "sous conversation," which I took to mean the hidden, buried message within the obvious story. Because I'm not comfortable describing topics I only half-understand, Tom's agreed to write a book about his workshop and the ideas he teaches. The working title is "A Hole In The Heart," and he plans to have a draft ready by June 2006, with a publishing date set in early 2007.

Number Thirteen: Another Christmas window story. Almost every morning, I eat breakfast in the same diner, and this morning a man was painting the windows with Christmas designs. Snowmen. Snowflakes. Bells. Santa Claus. He stood outside on the sidewalk, painting in the freezing cold, his breath steaming, alternating brushes and rollers with different colors of paint. Inside the diner, the customers and servers watched as he layered red and white and blue paint on the outside of the big windows. Behind him the rain changed to snow, falling sideways in the wind.

The painter's hair was all different colors of gray, and his face was slack and wrinkled as the empty ass of his jeans. Between colors, he'd stop to drink something out of a paper cup.

Watching him from inside, eating eggs and toast, somebody said it was sad. This customer said the man was probably a failed artist. It was probably whiskey in the cup. He probably had a studio full of failed paintings and now made his living decorating cheesy restaurant and grocery store windows. Just sad, sad, sad.

This painter guy kept putting up the colors. All the white "snow," first. Then some fields of red and green. Then some black outlines that made the color shapes into Xmas stockings and trees.

A server walked around, pouring coffee for people, and said, "That's so neat. I wish I could do that…"

And whether we envied or pitied this guy in the cold, he kept painting. Adding details and layers of color. And I'm not sure when it happened, but at some moment he wasn't there. The pictures themselves were so rich, they filled the windows so well, the colors so bright, that the painter had left. Whether he was a failure or a hero. He'd disappeared, gone off to wherever, and all we were seeing was his work.

Letters Between Lovers (Things we left unsaid)

http://www.dailylove.net/2010/06/62310.html

this piece is very very touching and oddly written poem.

-the management

A war poem for a change...

Suicide in the Trenches

I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.



Siegfried Sassoon

1917

From Hello Poetry: For Her, Tristan Claude

For Her
by Tristan Claude

Sickness beware,
I will be there,
Weakness watch out,
I'll be her crutch,
Sadness, oh you,
Can back away,
'Cause I'll keep her from your rain,
Anger, calm down,
I will stay my ground,
Fear, fear me,
dare not come near me,
Forget about failure,
Lose all the lies,
All you demons beware,
For her,
I'll be there.

Read more: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/for-her/#ixzz0rstJX4iy

Latenight Prose

there's days where I wish you lay next to me
there's days where I wish you could stay
in the warm sheets of the night
kiss me and watch me stray
into the harsh mistress of dreaming
into the beautiful hold of her hands
while we lay forever scheming
a life we know we can have.
-x

The Mermaid By Heinz Insu Fenkl

http://www.endicott-studio.com/jMA03Summer/theMermaid.html

this is a very interesting topic for poetry and prose, just ask Fenkl :]

Solitude, spotlight poem :] (By Ella Wheeler Wilcox)

Solitude

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow it's mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

--Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Archive!!! Check it out

http://www.poetry-archive.com/

this is an archive I stumbled upon :]
check it out, poetry lovers

Poetry I have stumbledupon:

http://www.khamush.com/love_poems.html
(love poems of rumi)

http://www.deepspirits.com/life-changing-arts/books/great-poems/invictus.php
(invictus by w.e. henley)

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/she-asked-me-what-i-think-1/
(she asked me what I think, by amir)

http://www.shmoop.com/news/2010/04/05/weird-poems/
(9 of the weirdest poems you will ever read.)

Enjoy, my readers~~ :]

rating:
5/5 stars.

Inspiration

What was the inspiration for past and modern day poets? I need some ideas or topics to write about. I am terribly stuck and am dire need of new muses. I am hungry. FEED THE POET!!

that is all.

Spotlight on: Charles Baudelaire

One of my favorite poets I've read so far. His dark Parisian poetry is full of imagery, lush use of phrase and dark themes; most revolving around death, lost love, or demonology. He is one of my bedtime favorites. Check out his poem "Death To Lovers". you'll think the same thing.

So...

I found this site called WriteSomething.com. it's a really neat collaborative writing site, and it's endless. write the first thing that comes to mind; it's like word association, but a lot weirder. i joined after stumbled upon it through StumbleUpon >.<
wow, that thing does wonders.

People.

People come and go
And wither and die
And leave and forget
And drink and get high.

People see a face and question it
Wonder about it,
Ponder it,
Want to destroy it.


People.
Are what make me me.
People.
Are what make me want to destroy the human race.
People.
Are what I can't stand.
People.
Are what I love you.

Remember who was there when you were falling apart.
Do you not remember?
YOu forgot?
Alright. Then I'll forget you.
You got what you wanted from me.
Jsut tell me that you don't want me around and I'll leave.

You fucking liar.

3/31/10

exhale. dive in.
into a world full of possibilities.
a realm full of serenity.
inhale, jump out.
into arms of peaceful love,
into a heart full of emotion;
actions of the devoted.
so, blow my mind.
let the universe march in time
with the steps of a galaxy.
Divide my world into
War & Serenity.

You. Do You? (Slam Poem)

You. Do you.
Do you see it?
The destruction of a love that
Could last forever past this
Egotistic, narcissistic,
Hopelessness derived from
The hand that feeds us
Don't castrate the
heart from the head
Or put it to bed angry.
You would come in handy
When it was convienient for you.
My little brother sobs.
You go on with foul mouthed
Washed out low life dogs
that used you for a house
Food, your car, money,
YOU.
Go on smoking your grass
On your ass while
Your children gain a contact high.
Lie. Feed Us.
Liar. Help Us.
I am left to be the adult.
To grow up.
To ultimately say,
"Kick rox, you gotta fix yourself"
Now I am left to fend for myself
To help the self of a boy
Too old to understand
Any damn bullshit-grand
To rise above your noise.
--x

I Swear...

I have new poetry I need to post. I am sorry for neglecting you.
I will post old ones, and newly written ones as soon as I can.
Hopefully by next week ^^ I know how much you love my work.
I love you and thank you for being patient.

-The Management.

Oh (Song)

Oh-wee-oh-weee-oh-wee-oh
wee ohhhh oh oh...
Singing,
(repeat first two lines)

I sit on in the middle of the city streets
all I hear are the sounds of your heart beats
watching the crowd run by as i put my
ear to the ground and watch you cry
Go aheag pretty lady
get your handkercheif
and dab off those tiny little
make up drips
and watch the world go by
While we ponder what the world would be,
if it's bigger than you and me
as we sit in this tree, watching ants collide

-chours: singing oh wee oh....-

go ahead little mister, walk on by
and watch the angels start to sigh
and sing a song for you...
In your ignorence,
in my defense I'd like to say
what the hell have we been doin'
anyway to make this day a little brighter...
You and me we can sit up in my tree
and wish this place were better to belive
in, side we go...

as we sing..-chours-

bridge:
you and me, can sit up in my tree,
and watch how ugly the world can be
smashing together colors and stars
leaving us with bruises and scars....
-chours.-

Someone

I'm someone
With something to do
I'm a someone
With a wide world view

I'm a someone
Not a no one
A feral or king
I'm a someone
Not a no one
Not some unearthly being

I'm a someone
With something to do
I'm a someone
Who found someone like you

I'm a someone
Not a no one
with a shadow or two
I'm a someone
Not' a no one
Not a no one.

I'm a someone
With a backbone now
I'm a someone
Who won't back out now
I'm a someone
You can't kick around
I'm a someone
You can't boss to the ground

I'm a someone
Not a no one
WIth a voice ringing high
I'm a someone
Not a no one
I'll make you all cry
i'm a someone
With a voice that
Can make the birds scream
I'm a someone
With a no one
And everything between
I'm someone
not a no one
and a family here..
I'm a someone
Not a no one.
not a no one...
I'm a someone
With family and friends
I'm a someone
With a love that never ends
I'm a someone
who found someone like you
I'm a someone
No need to feel blue...
I'm a someone
Not a no one

Wait & See (Song)

So let me meet your firends,
Lets get on this plane,
Cus I'll just go anywhere with you.
Take me here, take me there,
With you I'll go anywhere
Just waist and see...
That I'll folllow you til the ends of the earth
please promsie me we'll make it through
Cus I'll follow you to the dephs of the seas
Just wait and see] chorus
So can we leave this place?
This muggy town of california isn't doin' it for me
Take us where? Soon, you swear
We're taking flight in a few years
While you say...

That i'll follow you til the ends of the earth
I'll promise we'll make it through
Cus I'll follow you til the depths of the seas
You say, just wait and see]chorus
[bridge]
You're beautiful, i wish you could see
you're unpredictable, how lovely this can be
you'll be here and i'll be there
Lets just take this everywhere
You took my heart locked it in a box,
Now together we're pop rox and coca cola
Belching past the stars....
Screaming to the sun,
Here our lives just begun...

So, I'll follow you.
Til the end of the earth
I know we'll make it through
I'll follow you
Til the depths of the seas
Honey, just wait and see.

Postmodern Blues (Chords/Lyrics)

so where will you go
on your knees in the steeple
watching you, scream the people
so.
so it goes.
hello mr. reaper,
oh lookie me I'm a keeper!
refer to myself
in the pages of these lyrics
The audience and critics
[^verses f,c, em]

Scream for me
beg for me
hate me for myself
Laugh with me
Love with me
go and tell another story...
[^chours^
dm, f, c, am]
so, as it goes
i will watchyou in halls
dancing 'round in your bra
well, i guess i placed
myself with your person
one lesson learning is

postmodernists love the rage
love the cage which we live in
contemplate what's been given
and you...stare at me
and notice someting new
hell yeah, here's a clue

[chourse]
due what you want to
see what to see
here is a life lesson
or philiosiphy
here u go
little tokyo
or my blonde bombshell
lost in the snow.

Fwd: He is perfect for me. He nuzzles like me. Acts like me...hes just amazing. Hes that guy ive wanted since day 1.

Sickening.

I forget how to sing,
I forget how to lie,
Down on this bed and
Stop wondering why.

Am I somewhat of a stereotype--
Something hypocritical in your rite.
You make me sick, and want to
Pop you like a boil or two.
-x

Hell flies in on angel wings
to here the lovely beauty sing
Devour your lips in crimson shiiiine.

...I don't want to be another memory.

No matter what.
I know I'm going to love you.
Past the shit, piss, sunshine and rain.
I will love you. Always.

Pardon me while burn/
Into the wind/
ride the wave into space/
and become a changeling race.

The beauty of this.
What can I do.
Destroy my brain.
Trying to figure you out.

Anger, Confusion, Distortion.

I want to destroy you.
I want to rip your throat out, and hear you scream
While drowning in tears as I
Devour your tongue.
Listen to me,
I want you to believe me when I say this:

You're such a fucking hypocrite,
Grating at my spine.
Tell me you love me,
Don't leave me behind;
in a matter of minutes I want to see you bleed
While you scratch out your eyes .

REvitalize

Recompose the redialed histories
Of divided rallies to accompany
The wrists of the human form.

Can we start the revolution
Or revitalize what had to be fixed before?
The world may never know.

-x

goodnight

Restless, restless.
Why are thine eyes so immune to the sleep-inducing dust
Fearies sprinkle on the eyelids of man.
Thine eyes, thine eyes.
Body and soul rest in the heart of the drowsy state of a recharging status.
Body, thy body must die and plug into the realm of Rem and the nest of dark.
-xx

Morning Star

Filling me to the brim with lavish warmth,
I thank thee. To infiltrate
My heart,
I adore thee even more. The bright light that clears the fog
Of yesterday is what drives me to strive consciousness
And conquer the day that is before me.

Droplets of morning dew
Quake in fear.
Run and hide in the dirt below, as they jump from petals
And leaves to hide from you until tomorrow morning.

-x

Mother & Daughter

Mothers and Daughters fighting like animals,
over something to do...
with a relationship that is broken,
just like you.

Forgive yourself, Mother, for we all have sinned;
please understand, Daughter, that we both can't win;
To the judgment of the higher power,
that's neither of us.

I love you, said Daughter, but this relationship cannot exist,
unless we attempt to forgive everything and forget.
But listen, said Mother, you are screaming out of disrespect...
I will never do such a thing, this is set.

I want to try and forgive you, but it's just hate instead,
I hate this, but it's too much to regret.
You cannot stop me from what I want to do, said Daughter.
So I'll just say goodbye...

Don't forget, said Mother, this was all because you lied.
Angel of Sanity, hear me whisper. Said the lovely Daughter,
I want to be happily ever after, with my Grandelders & Lover.
Nothing can take him away, so I cannot complain,
But if they try to do such, I will go insane!!

Lover had proven himself worthy, according to Elders and Her;
But the Mother and her Circus say otherwise,
Nothing can stop the Daughter, Lover and their plan
For running off to a place known as Neverland.
they shall live there forever, and be in holy peace;
Living and loving as always, to survive without those beasts...

-x

Journal Entry 001: So much to say... It makes it hard to sleep sometimes.

I love you so much, it hurts to know that the future and unfortunate things we must think about rear its' ugly head. I hate the fact that when I think of this, I cry. I get upset. I think to myself, "I can't loose you. I refuse to let you go. You're mine. You're my happiness. My love. My affection. Mine. You were made for me. I don't want to be alone again. Take me with you. Stay with me, don't leave me here alone again." I don't want to be unhappy, and by myself again. You, are the best thing to ever happen to me. I can't get bored with you. I can't stay mad at you.

The way you show affection is so beautiful to me, if I didn't have it, I know I'd still be in a vicious cycle of regret. I regret nothing when I'm with you, I'm scared of what I need to be scared of. I've grown to love myself as much as I love you. I don't know if this is the hormones talking but I want to give you everything I am so we can make this work like we talked about,

i want to be your fiance one of these days.
i want to be yours forever.
Even if I have to wait for you to say you want these too, I will wait for however long it takes. Because you are worth it to me. you are worth more then gold, diamonds, and oil in this lifetime.

I will wait.
It will be ok.
We will make it.
Because We love each other. You love me. I love you.

A Modern Myth

you surprise me, astound me,
confound me, and intrigue me.
i try to find the chapter i was on, and lose it;
an ever changing story, we're becoming,
this chance is turning into;
expect turns and dead ends; forks in the road and construction.
please, be gentle with the binding,
it'll only last for so long.

Be All Mine

Don't tell me that
(But I need to hear it)
Why am I so obsessed with my fears
(Because history likes to repeat itself)
What can I do to change my ways of taking things in
(Let it out, then and there.)
Don't leave me.
Don't say you're just riding this out.
Don't tell me.
Don't tell me.
Don't tell me.
Stop.
Stop.
STOP.
Don't tell me this,
when we're both in horrible places.

We're a couple, right?
We're in love, right?
You won't leave....right?
I can cling to this with everything I have, right?!
I can say you're mine and know it's true, RIGHT?!
RIGHT?!
AM I RIGHT?!

Or am I wrong?
Should I have doubt in my ideals, and thoughts?
Doubt us, you, me and our love?
Should I keep this in another file cabinet I do everything else,
And leave it be locked away?
Or sit here, cry silently and be angry.
Be upset, hurt, and wanting to hold you,
Scream at you, Love you, and swear to me that you'll stay with me.
And be all mine.

Cry Wolf

Show me a sign,
That will make it out someday,
Promise me one day,
Will make it out someway.

Please don't cry Wolf, with jowls matted in
red,
with paws clawing at the door.
Please, don't deceive me like those before.
I'll lose my mind,
I'll try to leave this all behind.
I'll let you in,
Unlock the door,
Stop your pawing....

Will the day come,
when the world lives in harmony,
In peace?
With out drones, without worries, cares,
Fears, scars, devastation, disaster, horror,
Callings with no meaning echo in my head, like a rattlesnake.

Please, don't cry wolf.
-x

A Flower Garden's Teary Song To Mother Earth

In the days that slip by like rain to the earth,
Needed yet left unnoticed,
I notice how much I need you like a winter's showers.
Replenish what is me and help rebuild what is there.
Make this being better then the years before,
Surpass the other lovers, the other words whispered to me,
In hopes to drown out, drain out and remove the poisons and hormones
They pumped into my roots that long to be growing into your soil.

Let us then resume the gardening of the soul.
Digging up holes just to place ourselves, our secrets,
Our lives into them.
Wishing beauty and color will derive from such small yet potent seeds.
They will come through from the murky, grainy soil.
Even if it kills me.
I hope, says the flower, You and I
Stay leeched together,
Stay attached until we wither as one,
Returning to your lovely green roots.
And embracing the soft, delicate world that is romance among two
Flower and Earth.

-x

Wedding Bells In Hell

Such a beautiful sight, isn't it?
I want that more than life itself without you.
Not even an eternal being, given by God or Beast, wouldn't make this hellish place
Home without you in ti.
This is what I see when I look at you,
When I touch you.
Talk to you,
Dance, sing and laugh with you.
You are my snowy night,
those lovely sites in magazines and movie scenes,
can't begin to bring me back to you;
songs sung by angels, demons, whores...
Make it easier to know,
you're mine.

Tainted Paradise

I'm in a realm of twilit fantasies,
Looming happiness and shining worries.
But you, my love, take my hand?
Grip it tighter and tighter,
Wipe my fears away?
As I'll do for you,
That's all I'm begging please.
No more tears,
No more fears,
we're in the clear.
No more danger,
We can put it to bed.
So rest your head,
and know I love you.
I'll do everything in my power to protect us,
from anything and everything
Nothing and noone.
All so we don't have a tainted paradise.

Women: Love How They Look, Hate How They Are.

I can't believe the beauty of a woman's body,
the lushness of her curves...
The sensuality in her eyes,
the tenderness of her skin.
It's astounding, how mesmerized I am.
By each detailed picture,
It's not pornography,
It's Art!!
(If tastfully done.)

I can just taste the scent of her skin
On my tongue.
The hot of an embrace.
The soft gentle feel I get once her body's near mine,
and the succulent feel of my hands in thine.

I love the female form.
But come to the terms I couldn't date the angels,
so beautiful.
So elegant.
So marvelous.
So grand.
But I would in fact, draw every curve
And hold every nerve
And...
Well.
Things I shouldn't.

Undress her with my eyes and see
How luxourious a place like that can be
Call me what you will,
but I shall have my fill--
Of a visual masterpiece--
that is the female flesh.

-x

I Would

Would you dance with me in the rain if I asked.
would you take me by the hand and laugh,
at the little things that make me fear
the future and the sun?
would you?
would you...

Would you lick my wounds if the midday sun
destroyed my umbrella
would you?
would you..
take me and cradle me,
holding me tight as your tend to the scars
Would you...
would you

Because I'd do the same for you
I'm the one that would kill a beast
fight an army
catch the sun and jar the moon
so you can see day and night when you please
as you please
I aim to please
I love you to the end of the stars in the sky...

Would you...would you?

A New Year!

Hello, my beautiful readers.

It's a new year, meaning it's time for some new poetry! I will be posting older works too, so you can see how I've progressed over the years, and I hope you enjoy all of it!! :]

I love you all, and hope to hear feedback from you soon!!

-The Management

The Angry Beast

There's an knot in my head,
where the logic used to be.
Now it's filled with buzzing gnats,
irritating me, making me swill with
Bullshit.
I never liked to begin with.


Where are my pills?! Where
is my tea?! MY WARM PJS?!!!
Where, above all is my hug...
Or my Mozart.

-x