March 2012
84 posts
6 tags
Those Fingers (a response to leaveyouapen) →
phoenix-arises:
Those fingers are only fingers to you My love But to me they are salvation
To you they may be nothing more Than five digits With which to utilize
as you see fit But please see fit to save me From myself
Those fingers I hold onto With all my failing might Please wipe away these
tears My dear
Let your fingers say the words Your mouth does not
I submit myself to those...
4 tags
Taking Tears Away
She take his hands and places them on her cheeks as if they
can absorb her tears, even the
ones that aren’t there, the ones that don’t tell.
But they’re only fingers love, only fingers.
6 tags
The Way She's Read
The way I read her, pause every few paragraphs, press the book
on my chest and heartbeat to heartbeat just align her chamber
to mine, she reads like a book not meant to be studied, with
plucked pages, smudged graces, and erased silky laces,
the way I read her, she’s an open
interpretation, an allusion in the making, an enigma of hope and lush, the way I read her,
like a book...
6 tags
5 tags
Virginity
Maybe it’s an embarrassing conversation, too taboo of a topic to mention in a talk,
maybe it’s a little labeling to hold such a title still, goodie-two-shoes wearing prude,
but maybe in the poetic sense it’s just okay to be a virgin though, how metaphorical
being something many people aren’t, but than again, how controversial is it to go
up against time, pleasure, and...
6 tags
Tired of Wine
Tired of wine, it cuts too fine, beer has a taste, too musky goes
down rusty, whiskey whisks next morning to a spin, gin is the vocal courage, makes
us sing till our cords unwind, and the rum? Well that’s always quickest to leave. But when tired of wine vodka is always
sublime.
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My Poetry
My poetry doesn’t sound like her anymore, she’s gone from the sentences, words like
“beautiful, and lovely,” don’t flow as they use to. They coincide, but not in my heart. I’m missing her so much in these stanzas, she doesn’t make my phrases sounds like
they use to. With my ear right up against the paper, I knock and knock, hoping to hear a...
5 tags
Couldn't Love
How come I couldn’t love you? Tonight feels like nothing but that question in my head, it feels like the way you look,
a hurtful gorgeousness that doesn’t seem to quit. tonight feels like those words I never got to tell you, you’re my only regret,
the only true story in my journal that I fictionalized to end the way it should have.
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Anonymous asked: your words are blessed my friend, blessed and amazing
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The Problem With Poets (Rerun) →
The problem with poets is that they’re damaged goods, they spell out
their disabilities with emotionally stirred ink, they wear labels that classify
them as defective humans, they write poetry with scars across their
compositions. These people see the gorgeousness in everything, the
raw anger in the goodness of the atmosphere and translate it perfectly
across fields of paper. They’re the...
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Photographers Vs. Poets
A push of a trigger, and the camera takes
in all of the words in a space and time, in
form of light and color, and converts
movement, sound, and pure living to a still
image. The photographer has the abilities
to freeze life as it is.
A thousand words in a photograph,
a poet’s demise.
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5 tags
The Boy
He keeps her tingling by the toes, and
to miss a night out, he rather see a
festival in her muse, the party’s in her
expression, the boy strikes a match
against the poetry and watches her
soul catch flame, with a stomach full
of glistening wing flapping butterflies,
she drifts away with the boy’s words,
and the music is loud when her smile
sings, the dance is fierce when...
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Decay of Meaning
These words, I promised. Forever words, poems born
from whatever it is you did to me. I still keep her
photograph in my journal, there to remind me, my
signature. No bloody closer to you am I, but still I
keep, because along time ago I promised myself to
you. Your picture is my rosary, I look upon it, find
myself praying, damn well knowing, just like a rosary
promises, no one is...
7 tags
11 tags
What Do You To Listen To While You’re Writing?
9 tags
grandplatypus asked: when writer's of your caliber like my writing, I feel as if I've accomplished something.
5 tags
Blotted
closertothecitylights:
Your kind words once spread across the fine lines
of my notebook, which were delicately written in ballpoint pen
to keep the thought of you alive. Now the pages meld
together in such a way where the permanent memory
of what used to be leaves the ink blotted.
This poem is inspired by a brilliant poet, leaveyouapen.
5 tags
Tongues As Pens
She mistakes her tongue for a pen, like poems
written across his torso, she feels the paper on
his skin, every ripple, every crease, just an excuse
for a word more, she traces the letters with her
velvety saliva, punctuates her sentences with
yielding kisses, compelled by the heat of racing
hearts, she feels her inked scriptures breathe as
he does.
4 tags
The Chapter
You end your questions with periods, your accusations
in form of inquisitions tell me that you don’t trust me
that you already know the answers to who and what I am.
You leave nothing to chance, and worst yet you mange
to look me in the eyes after you word your condescending
motives and you wield the air and the silence between us
so exquisitely, it’s almost as if you could break me,
...
7 tags
(Ink Drop Version)
You are that one ink drop that survived being turned
into my script. The pigments of your grace refused
to be eternally inscribed in the pages of my journal…
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1 tag
cindyw17:
Some men grow old. Some men grow sad.
And I’m growing both ways.
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Deserve (To Be Read)
You deserve to be read, not looked at in a
desiring manner, not in a crave. You’re more
than that, besides you show off more in your
work than you do in your curves. You don’t
give much away in your touch, or taste but
what’s there is slightly hinted in your
grammatical performance, your words in me
are a form of your sex, in the metaphorical
lust, I find myself wanting...
happymonk:
all of the good poetry is on my dashboard (from other writers)
none of it is featured in the poetry tag.
6 tags
A Page Turn (Look Away)
When she looks away from me, she becomes like
a turned page away from my favorite part of a
book. When she does that, I quickly turn her back
to reread what makes her so special, her eyes are
the sentences that spring this fairy tale to life, her
nose, the adorable humor that I love so much,
but perhaps why I always keep her looking at me,
why I keep this book on the same page is...
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8 tags
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Star Bright
She fades in and out of my consciousness,
she’s like a star, and as one by one she
dissolves behind the morning sky, she’s
never truly gone, she’s easily unseen, but
like the stars forever still there.
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Artist Of Tomorrow
We are the artists of tomorrow, never mind
if you’re glowing faint today, yesterday’s
artist grow faded to grey and soon as they
downgrade away, we will be there to take
their place some day.
7 tags
Lipstick Ink
Your words bend in the shape of kisses, like
messages on a mirror wall when you use your
lipstick as a pen to write a daring ”I Love You.”
You’re a risk in your voice, an uncontrollable
syllable, a pattern of exposure, you’ll never
mind what you say, and always mean it. You
have lipstick ink darling, and you don’t care
what you write on.
6 tags
Falling Vase
You’re a falling vase, I wouldn’t catch you, your affair with gravity is much too great, I’ll watch you kiss the floor, see how much he’ll
love you then.
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Flowery
I have a thing for flowers, pretty living creatures. And since my poetry’s dying, flowers are the closest to poems I’ll ever be again.
The dirt’s my ink now, the stems, my lyrics, The colors, my emotion.
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What Words Do
What words do, they don’t promise much,
they’ll only tell you about what’s there,
you’ll read yourself, a poet’s your mirror,
reflects the beauty, the sweetness and
glamour, you’ll always compare. Do you
know what words do? They just blow air
on something that’s been covered with
dust, you could be forgotten, down and
lost in, but remember...
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Song Singin'
Singin’
Just like every sung story starts,
this one’s about a girl…
A sad entanglement, a silly engagement, such a haunted allegory for this kind of testimony, she was a rhyme out of place, she’s the cause of stumbling in pace, and as the song goes the...
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thehologram:
I don’t need the moon to think of you. I don’t need the stars to wish upon, you are forever in me, in each atom, in each sigh of my soul.
4 tags
Girls Who Cry
Girls who cry die inside, a tear is a single
day away from her life, she’s distanced by
that far, the depth of her heart shallows,
and we’re all a wonder why for the girls
who dry their eyes.
5 tags
Never Need To Read (This)
You’ll never need to read this, because you don’t need a
boy on his knees, you don’t need to be a reason for a smile,
because you’re one to carve your own, you needn’t hear that
you’re the light of this place, that you might be the reason
for someone’s existence. You’d rather a man keep you up at
night, that’s willingly forgetful of...
3 tags
Signal Signs (Re-release)
Silent vibrations running up your nerves
to tell your brain a secret, her touch is
something unlike anything you’ve
experienced before. Unable to react,
subtle to subtract the sensation. You
begin to feel alive with the slight signal
signs coming from her feel.
2 tags
The Distance
I could tell you what really matters
in a poet’s work, but you’d miss it
because you’re incapable of seeing,
I myself have denied it, the
distance from one letter to another.
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