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The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.
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
Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.
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
with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
and here you are:
facing a choice between
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
this is what
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
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
Riddle My tears fall,
My heart beats,
because of the
What am I?
A Night By the FireNo light,
The light sired by the night
All above whilst the day's delights
Now disappears from mortal sight.
Faded away is the sun's power,
Taking the stage now is night's sallow flower;
Now mortals may behold the stars and falling shower.
Set in a pit Nature's skyscraper ablaze
And revel in the emanating heat as you gaze,
Looking down on occasion when you hear a crack from the fire
And witness "fireflies" flying away from mother's blaze;
Dying shortly after but not lacking burning beauty do they desire!
I look out towards the teasing shore
And meditate as we sit upon her door,
Thinking on what my future has in store;
Who I am now and even
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.
Seaside HolidayI am content
What's so great
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
nightswimmingindeed the night is young
like the fingers of a small child
playing notes softly on a piano
feet dangling far from the floor.
she plays for the ballet
she dances in it too.
her fingers glide as her feet twirl
she lives inside her mind.
the others feel it too.
the waves coursing through their souls
the dreams, hopes, expectations
of life, of their life.
they dip their toes in the still black water
of a river that contains their future.
unable to see what lies beneath
they dream of whats below.
and while the night grows inside them
they fearlessly close their eyes.
drop down into the water
so far below the surface
stormin some ways i wish the rain would stop.
it's odd to think something i love so much leaving on account of me.
but the thunder is deafening
and it hurts to think
about why the rain won't stop.
i once thought rain cleansing
the depressed mind enjoys shades of grey in a hot summer.
drenched in steaming cold pellets of water
was like an awakening.
but the cuts sting now
and i can feel everything burn inside.
inside a water haven;
where i used to live.
everything is tired now
no, everything is fine.
my head will only rest a moment
the rain falls harder onto my naked body
no longer cleansing, no longer clean.
it covers my filthy s
paper lioncall of the night sky
a shriek, a scream, a cry
it wants you to know its size
and all it's magnificence
standing small in an open space
the wide dome surrounding me
seems larger than usual
a black velvet sky
dotted with white stars
and a round full moon
that i would shatter if i could
and let all its gloom rain on me.
i want that truth.
some people are made of something strong
an internal beam of light
that can conjure bravery at the worst of times.
others tear like paper
and have no fire in their eyes
standing small in an open space.
the truth of the sky lives here.
but with the jaws of a paper lion,
the words choke goin
purebloodstanding tall with head down
your eyes remain unseen
and with snakes writhing in your blood
the room is filled with silent screams
the brambles cling tightly to your hair
as the thorns grow on your skin
flames seep through the open mouth
as the fire grows from within
i can feel you.
as the knife plunges through my arm
blood will pour onto the unclean
lock me to the ground
to sleep with the unworthy
your hatred could devour you
instead your eyes consume me with a stare
look deep inside and wrench it out
while i lie here, immune to you.
they crawl beneath your feet
they are the ground you walk on
they are your sun, moon and
prisonershe was never brave
didn't talk like she was to be heard
but somehow he would always hear her
he seemed to not know anyone else was there
and so she lived.
but the death came quickly
and their light went out.
it didn't make sense to her
she would cry reason after reason out of her,
but she never understood
like the quiet mousy girl
she stitched her veins to his
they planned a life together
so his guilt could stay at home with her
lost in all she never knew possible for her.
she tries to mend things now
she fails again and again.
fate has sucked her life from her
or so she will tell you
she was never brave
until it's realcold and crisp
the words seep from your mouth
they shatter in the air
and cling to my skin
i seem to realize i'm crying
but the tears aren't really there
you're not who i want
those frozen eyes
and shifted feelings
it's not how i want it
fuck it if it's gonna be like this
was every time you kissed me just like this?
un fucking real, man.
you used to hold me differently
how did you do it?
fake it like this
live some sort of lie
i don't care how old we are
i feel a million years old anyway.
so just leave then.
turn around, walk away.
cause until it's real,
i won't bother
flinchslammed against the wall
pushed against the wall
thrown against the wall
its all the same
it all hurts
makes my skin an unnatural colour
makes my mind unnaturally cluttered
and i cant think
can only feel
pain. pain. pain.
and you think
you think you know
i won\'t do anything
all your punches
all your throws
add to my anger
and one day it will explode
and you will be sorry
you\'d like that, wouldn\'t you?
maybe you wouldn\'t
but its too late now
i\'ve got the power now
the gun is in my pocket
and i am in your house
yelling all this to you
What Am I? Lingering in that photo...
In that simple shot (still, I feel the bullet there)
I look, and I see a woman.
I am not a woman.
I have never worked for a lifestyle,
given birth for an allowance
I have never truly loved a man.
I am not a woman.
I do not have the means to
to wake, feel the calling..(oh, it calls, but I do not answer)
and move, move, move
until I reach a place of
I am not a woman.
Sometimes, I still take the
of my childhood and
place it on shoulders of
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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