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WondermentSome days, I find myself
 counting
         the s e  c   o    n     d      s
 and
   the
     thump
       thump
         thump
 of my heart
           and
 pondering
       quietly
         what I could have
              should have
                   would have
 said
                   were I
    better
         braver
              stronger
      and a lot
  l e s s
                 like
                             me
                        but all I can manage
              now
         is
            . .  .   .    .     .      .
                                                 I'
.un-soft.Hot pink dancing with strangers
never felt more plastic,
marionettes with lime-rubber spines,
not my own,
acquiescing to someone else's
terms of existence,
smudging marmalade orange
until the night devourseverytrace.
Madness is a quiet hunger,
so I poison beautiful things,
hide behind promises of your salvation,
never minding that bits
of my earnest-green soul
are taken in the bargain.
Almost (beautiful)I am not perfect
         not like this sunrise
                   and I shall not live half as long
                             as the sun
    nor shall I ever sing as softly
         as does the wind through my hair
              but I still
                   believe
                        that I
                                                  can be

                                                                 beautiful

                             In knowing this
      I am content
                                                        and so I
                                 allow
                 
FaithSome times, I think I feel you
                                             r e a c h ing out
                                  for me
                                             in the      stillness      and the
                         night

but then I remember
                                                                      you're gone
               and where you've gone
                                                       there is
                                                                         nothing
to reach for

                    not even        me

                                  Or so, that'
snow-birdprettiest bird in town

felt his feathers wain, & the rivers drown

baby doll, i'm loving you until

the sun & sky won't spin again - he's

beautiful in his snow-bird skin
2 CirclesDraw a circle,
Fill it with Dreams, hopes,
Fears and that lingering feeling
Something bumping under
Inside, dark places
And hidden corners
Paint little cobwebs of
Imaginary monsters
With their outstretched hands,
Teeth, baited breath

Draw another circle,
Overlapping the first
Set this one a blaze with
Dishes and curios
Dusting, laundry
A career, a forest
The mountains
Your first kiss
Your last breath

In the space between these circles;
This space, the sacred space between the seen and unseen
The imaginary and the real

This is a mundane life.
The ExclusiveCelebSmackTawk.com

Jan 17 2013

Famous author Giselle Paige shoots lover: "he chewed too loudly and kept looking over my shoulder while I wrote."

Shocking news smacktawkers! It's being reported that beloved author of best sellers Midnight Stalker, Tarnished Hero & No Me Without You has shot and killed her lover, twenty five year model, actor and musician Ryan Sleek.

Agnes B. Zibody, Giselle's neighbor and longtime nemesis is said to have called the police after hearing repeated sounds of gunfire coming from the author's three-storey mansion in the early hours between two and three am. When the police finally showed up at around 5am to ques
FreewriteI am not sure how to do this
I do not really like to write my thoughts down anymore
because I do not enjoy looking into my mind and having
to listen to all the noise
my head is always too loud
too chaotic too crazy too dysfunctional
I am not doing this right because I am
too focused on saying something interesting or
profound or what people will think when they read this;
these people are all real poets and good poets
and I feel like I am just playing along and pretending to be good
while I scramble through my brain to try to invent
something beautiful or unique or clever or even
just something that perfectly describes the ordinary
but maybe
[blood] lustyou're just like me,
a million little shards
shoved together to create something
malleable and forgivable and human.

ink and blood
and caffeine and tea,
that's what i'm made of,
without a doubt.

the question is-- what are you?
toy gunsi.
it is february and i am still,
waiting for something to happen,
waiting for the other shoe to drop.

(darling, this isn't a game
isn't a game
isn't a game
but it's still your move.)

ii.
this is a test, to see if
we can be a dance, fluid and graceful
or if this is a mistake
with stubbed toes and missed marks

(bite marks are optional at this point,
but really, i don't know what you're
getting at please throw me a line
over here before i drown.)

iii.
it isn't enough to write,
about you or the tremors and the goose flesh
and everything you may or may not do to me

(i'll admit nothing,
not a damn thing
unless you say please
and smile-- t
16I tiptoe through
the shallow water. 
Disturb the sand
That never caught her. 
It pitched and tossed
and filled her lost lungs,
yet left her sweet
final song unsung. 
I follow her
through murky waves wake. 
I pray the sea
nymphs my soul to take. 
And I beg the tide
"Regale me!"
Sleeveless.her heart is missing.
her chest is just a cage;
a cavity; a hole; a hollow
with the lights off and 
there is no one home in
her dark chocolate eyes.
she doesn't walk on stars.
she doesn't dream on clouds.
her life is better now that she
doesn't live in the red dirt
alien land that is beyond
definition with people who
have no hope of being saved.
galaxies are far out of her
reach and it's frightening
to know that one day she
is going to die; one day
she will look in the mirror 
and realise that there is
no point to it any more.
her tears are scarring her
face each time she cries.
her fingernails are just
stubbs from all the biting.
children hate adults
- until they become one.
she's missing her heart.
it's on her sleeve.
BrokenShe wavers, slightly
lost and contritely
quiet, on the edge,
broken, they allege.

He watches, intrigued,
goes down on one knee
and offers a pledge,
broken, they allege.

She clutches the rope,
rough twines of hope,
her heart then mislead,
broken, they allege.

Jump instead of fall
because we are all
lonely on a ledge,
broken, they allege.
WithoutI don't like a person
Without scars
I feel like they're empty,
Missing something

I feel like a person
Without scars
Has nothing memorable
To share,
To tell

I feel like a person
Without scars
Hasn't yet learned how
To smile,
Breathe,
Live

I feel like a person
Without scars
Doesn't know how to handle life
Because
Life hasn't handled them.
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More from *DogmaticKerr

Inexorable WaltzSometimes when I stop and
listen
I cannot help but
remember
the deeper
the meaner
the other parts of
me
and how, on arkless nights
amidst darkling lights
in the presence of...

I

I wilt and...
am consumed by this
twlight of my-self

utterly
destroyed

Reduced to this
requiem
I shudder and cry
and gnash my teeth
against the horror that would be my...

cage

and I cannot get away
I can do naught but
dance
through my nights in this
inexorable waltz of
time
and
memories
Ech-oesIt starts in the back
the back of my head
and it slithers on down my spine
it then spreads to the tip
of everything
of everything that's mine
it echoes and builds and
builds
and echoes
and resounds within my mind
these echoes that chill
and fill my heart
these echoes
of
my
life
MartyrI want to say
'i love you'
To let you know that I care
not to seek or gain
something
else,
than to simply be 'there'

for you
EternityWednesday, June 24th, 2009
A dedication to the woman I shared the earth-core with - Daniela

Lifetimes ago, when I was younger
and the Sun shone brighter

When I believed the stars were tears
shining just for me...

And when I felt so sad,
so alone
so scared...

I used to turn to angels
luminous beings bathed in light
unfettered by my darkness

I used to let them sing me to sleep
embracing me so tight

I never ran from the pain -
no -

I always sought it out
Clutching it to my heart,
and screaming out its name
the way the angels did for me

They used to tell me that
by doing so
I could make it go away

Not by escaping it
but...
but by becomin
Old Art - Untitled 1 and 2Sunday, June 14, 2009
Progressions. Memories.Knowing. Hurting - always hurting.

You walk on air, your footfalls light and feathery
You hold sunlight in your palms
as a dream caresses your heart
and whispers a song on your lips

Given half a chance, you could dance this way forever
Always holding that dream in your heart
Forever clutching the sunlight in your hands
The light and warmth seeping into your soul

Straying down such a glorious road, you could live forever
You could ebb and flow with time
rise and soar beyond the desperate grasp of gravity
And maybe... maybe even learn to love

But everything has an end

Every candle will
Old Art - PervertI simply love the way that I hurt
the way that I scream, when I am at my wit's end
I simply adore the manner in which I
agonize
Over my losses
and my place in this world -
your world
I know that there is pleasure to be found -
delight -
in a creature such as myself not just
knowing its place
but being shown its place.

Featured in Groups:

:iconglory-be-project: #Glory-Be-Project

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January 15
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[x]

Greying

:icondogmatickerr:

         In my youth I believed that
            hearts
         and
           love
 were simple things
   mere matters of
                          honesty
                                 and
                                    openness
 and now...
    I know otherwise
       but I still
                   remember
          the quiet innocence of a
                                                       lonely child
          and I cry-
                    wondering
                             and
                       fearing
                  what has changed


                                                                             and why
:icondogmatickerr:
JANUARY 15, 2013 - In keeping with the #Glory-Be-Project

Time changes everything. It is through the passing of time that we all live and die and through which all things live and die. You and I and even the stars share this fate... so, why should our ideas, or beliefs, or our hearts be unchanged? Think back on what you used to be, what you used to know and what your heart used to burn for - is any of it the same now as it was then? Why? Why? Why? What changed you?

What changed me?

We all already know all the answers to these questions - it is simple rhetoric to make us reflect, to wonder, to search. Was it for the better? Was it necessary? Was it for the sake of survival or the sake of reality?

Are we still whole?

I don't know what your answers are - that's not for me to know - but I do know what mine are. I know the answers and they make me quiver, they make me angry, they make me sad and shake and wonder...

When did I change?
Why did I change?

Some times, I am left with nothing but the echoes of honesty and openness with myself...

Am I a better man?
Am I a better man?
Am I a better man?
Am I...?
Add a Comment:
 
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:iconryka-the-fallen:
~ryka-the-fallen Jan 18, 2013
at a loss for words-of-praise to tell you, this is lovely. life(love), more complex than the games we imagine as children. feels and resonance.
Reply
:icondogmatickerr:
*DogmaticKerr Jan 19, 2013
What a sweetheart :) I'm quite glad that you feel as much and I am distinctly pleased that you were moved :heart: And I was a strange child :lmao: Very strange.
Reply
:icondreamsinstatic:
`dreamsinstatic Jan 18, 2013  Professional Writer
Your fantastic work has been featured in Friday Night Features.
Reply
:icondogmatickerr:
*DogmaticKerr Jan 18, 2013
Wowzers... that is incredibly flattering! Thank you so much! :bow:
Reply
:icondreamsinstatic:
`dreamsinstatic Jan 19, 2013  Professional Writer
You're welcome.
Reply
:iconsavagesirens:
~SavageSirens Jan 16, 2013   Photographer
oh but to feel love & not it's wrath.
Reply
:icondogmatickerr:
*DogmaticKerr Jan 17, 2013
Indeed! :heart:
Reply
:iconvespera:
`vespera Jan 16, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
:heart: ah, the change debate
Reply
:icondogmatickerr:
*DogmaticKerr Jan 16, 2013
Yes ma'am :blushes: :bow:
Thank you for your time and sweet attention :heart:
Reply
:iconvespera:
`vespera Jan 16, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
very welcome :)
Reply
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