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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 that's mine
it echoes and builds and
and resounds within my mind
these echoes that chill
and fill my heart
MartyrI want to say
'i love you'
To let you know that I care
not to seek or gain
than to simply be 'there'
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,
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 -
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 by becoming it
I used to dream...
I used to see such beautiful things
Whenever the sun fell from the sky
And darkness seeped into the horizon
revealing, with its coming,
the utter vastness of my universe
and the imminent beauty of my soul
I used to die...
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 eventually extinguish -
And whispered lyrics fail to move your lips
in time with the beat
of your heart - now dreamless - even bloodless
your warmth seeps
Water drops turn to tear drops,
even the flowers around you weep
Your keen sight soon turns inward -
darker dreams you did not seek
you remember what it was to live
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
Over my losses
and my place in this world -
I know that there is pleasure to be found -
in a creature such as myself not just
knowing its place
but being shown its place.
Old Art - Loveless, UntitledLoveless
Nothing goes just as I planned
Somebody else always takes your hand
And standing there with naught but doubt
I always wonder what I'm without
It's in this silence that I have no voice
And I start to believe I never had a choice
Somewhere within it hurts again
Somehow I managed to fail my friend
I have to wonder if it's all my fault
The way I carry all this pain I've wrought
I always feel like I don't have a home
That terrible thought, forever being alone
Loveless again, it never ends
When I lost myself, I lost my friend
And though my heart may learn to mend
I always fear it won't beat again
So now what's gone can't be replaced
Those pieces will fade without a trace
Hearts will break and souls will ache
The smile I faked was my mistake
And now I'll have to learn to be without
Hand in hand with only my doubt
So in this darkness it begins again
And I'll let you know just how it ends
I may not be quite as alone as I used to think, but I am still so distant from everyone e
Retch-edSometimes, I remember the way my fingers used to
the quiet strain as they clawed at
my eyes, screwed tightly shut
a bizarre mimicry of my own
my mouth opened, wide,
as I tried my best to scream away
my latest attempt to
I-magi-nationSometimes, I'm in awe of my own
Struck-dumb by the enormity of
and the mind that lies within
It would be hard to overstate my
wealth of spirit
measured not in coins & gems but by
Galaxies wheel in my head and heart
My pride must seem ignoble
you would be right
Judge me for my crimes of heart and head -
I already have
We must temper ourselves,
or all is lost
A child dreams of childish things,
of being all that matters
of being the one
Being the only and...
And I was - my own - and I created... my dreams
I built within my heart
and placed upon it
I walked across this heart-felt
and inflicted upon it
And all the dreams that a child could dream
I dreamed upon my world
And for all the dreams I lost and gained
tiny pieces of
always at home
I tried my best
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
Stranger's funeralUnder the clouds
Under the rain
Staring at the coffin
At a stranger's funeral
We're all alone
Feeling the storm
But not the pain
For he's but a stranger
And the graves around us
Are just there
Keeping us company
During this empty moment
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
AliveA ray of hope shines during the
Long restless hours
I keep enduring the task of
Vanquishing the darkness with the
Energy from the depths of my soul
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be part of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
To the Boy Who Likes PoetryHe was a maze of metaphors
but she didn't mind
getting lost in him
olivearmies march in time,
shouting and stamping
into Vietnam swamps
with booming voices
and dirty boots.
a soldier can't keep up,
falls to the side in tall jungle grass
and vomits out his homesickness
into the damp shrubs.
while the American girl
giggles and taps her nails
on the grimy paint of the bar,
chewing the toothpick
of her martini.
outsides, leaves curl into mulch,
and summer shrivels
like a rotting pea pod.
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