A chance secondI lie awake, staring at the cornices.3AM: my fingers worry at the corners of my sheet.My anxiety worries at the corners of my rib.I bite and tug and huff out my miseryAs the silence keeps me awake.I lay with pressure of your absencePressing down over my nose and mouth.A soft asphixiation of the heart, of the sanity.It is a hot grey night in London.You are awake, startled by the sunlight.7AM: you can't lift your weighty skull from the sheet.The day sirens, but you stay, settled,Under the weight of your shroud, your loss,Only the silence keeps you awake.Unknowingly, for the first time in weeksWe are unintentionally in sync;Laid out in funerial colours as we die.It is a dull blue day in Dubai.
HAIKUWRIMOCOMPLETE 2013February 28th, 2013Dire desperationA feeble whimper for help;roar of these raw times.February 27th, 2013Gluttonous ash cloudsucks the moon's bloodand swallows the night.February 26th, 2013Bark! An explosion!Angry bodies escape thenetwork of lung cells.February 25th, 2013Silently cloning,multiplying, honing in,determined to kill.February 24th, 2013Tea and sympathyreadily availablefor my dear sister.February 23rd, 2013I will hold my breathas the north wind does the samewaiting for your love.February 22nd, 2013He hovers behind;Hamletian apparition.Always following.February 21st, 2013A long slow curve,your smile upon my shoulder,a scar of your touch.February 20th, 2013Dandelion seed,Where do you go while I sleep?To whom do you run?February 19th, 2013Whorls from fingersImprinted in the treesCount their rings too.February 18th, 2013Orchid explodes.Sudden
Finding Neverlove - Draft OneHear me read itI have never loved you.I did not love you since the day we met,I did not love you the momentI looked into your beautiful eyes.I have never loved your soft voiceAs it whispers my name in adorationAnd I have never loved the look in your eyesWhen you look at me.I don't love your hair,Or the way you look in the morning,Half asleep and vulnerable and shy.I do not love you.I did not love you at the first touch,At the first kiss.I did not love you the first time,Or the second time,Or the last time;Not even then.Listen to me carefully -I have never loved you.I will never love you.I will not love you until my very last breathAnd beyond.I will not love you for all that you are,Nor accept you for all of your innocent flaws.I cannot love you.I have never loved youSince the first time I set my eyes on you.
AfterIt follows me.My silver skeined ghost.An almost imperceptible thread;only visible when you shine light directly upon it.It follows me.It rides the underground.It hides under bridges,Under trains.It is woven into the spools of tar that form the roads between.Inevitably if I walk too fastit reminds me -Like the tug of stitches in your cheekthat reminds you; you have lost your wisdom.It reminds me.It trips me in doorways,when my mind is elsewhere.If I look away from it - - it slips round my neck.Another knot to throw over the beamsit mauls me without a fair chance.I tried to sever it. I can't.Only the corrosion of time has a chance.So for now, I am tetheredto the fragment of my heartthat I tore out for you.Although we have placed it in a shroudand declared it dead,the umbilical thrumming keeps me awake.It does not desist;the connection to that unwanted slab of meat.It foll
ScarsSee the sharpness of my tongue-nibAs the metallic taste in my mouth draws outA barking cough, forced outBy the dirty nicotine lining my lungs.See the blade of stubbornnessThat slices across my cheek bone;An amalgamation of all the times you pushed me.See the residue in my eyes,The remnants of all those times you forced meAnd I forced myself not to cry;Those tears condensed into a thick blinding syrupThat colours all things red.See the crinkle in my nose,The wrinkles on my heartAs I remember how you didn't love me. (Don't love me).See the burns on my psalmsAnd fingerprints singed offBy all the times you called me nothing.See the manacles, the barnaclesThe mutations and tumours.See the invisible scars of the Battle of Us.
Sometimes, it's the little things.He always told me I was deep.An unfiltered distillation of a humanitarian ocean.He accepted me, gills and all - He knew that I needed my eccentricities to breathe under the seascrapers of pollution that hung over my head. Or he said he did.At the end of it all,he tugged the gills open to expose me; my innards trailed across the coral reef as I swam trustingly forward, hoping for the best. I tried to believe.I believed him, gills and all -But eventually, he left me, with holes in my sides Where he had spooned out my intestines To tether them to a boulder. I tried to breathe.He always told me I was deep.It must have been a surprise to read: Death by puddle.
MutantHear me read itI am a mutant. | My skin does not sallow in the sun and I do not blush jaundice through my cheeks. | I do not have extra fingers, or toes - although my spine; it boasts an ironic vertebrae, it is a long tally of the hearts I have broken and when I straighten my spine the bones Pop out of place. I am out of place. | I do not have a super power, I lack exceptionality in all but my ordinariness. | there is a vengeful bacteria feasting - on my shoulder places; betwee
The White ThingsNothing is as far away as a minute ago.No matter how hard you row against the tidewe can never reach it, never return there.It's hard to sleep in the light of my regretsthat creeps through curtain and barriersto rot away and bleach all things white.It's hard to sleep knowing that no distanceis as far away as sixty small seconds ago.Immalleable, we rot, and things turn white.
Of Nuisance LeavesHear me read it!Leaves clutch their ropy fingers around the tree's limbs. The zesty leeches bloom, crack open overnight and slip silently up the nearest oak or maple. They pierce the crunch of bark and penetrate deep into the rubbery veins.They feed. They pauperize plum and peach until they are heavy and brown; heavy laden with the stolen sap.When at last they reach their fill the tree can finally shake them off emphatically, desperately, until at last it is clean again. The tree reaches its black bones to the sky in praise and as a new year begins vows never again to be the victim of leaves.
DaleHear me read itThey will not silence the bells for you.The roses will not halt their will to wiltand lilies will disassemble under the earth.They will not dust Frankincense over citiesand trees will not bow down in griefwillingly donating limbs to become tissues.But throats will dry out mid-sentence andblack hankerchiefs will be dubbed into pockets.There will be enough salt to melt the iceembedded around the hearts of old enemies.Old enemies will turn friend once moreand the church will be full, packed with love.The world is unlikely to take a moment's prayer;Earth spins too fast to pause for any of us.But the meagre collection of people you touched(meagréd only by the tear-ridden knowledgethat you would have touched many more in time)Will ache tonight and whisper of your friendship.You were and always will be; loved.
Mother EarthMy body is the earth;See how under this bruiseA seed of malcontent sleeps.See what grows out of each poreAs the pain pours over again.There is rust in my fingerbedsThat poisons the rootsOf all good that hopes to grow here.I am the convulsing, revolutionof the convoluted Earth...I am the tectonic blades that clashand shout when I curl up and hide.You will feel me when I tremble,and fear me when I explodefor under the magmanimous skinThere burns a core of hateThat can't be marred by human hand.
Hard.On days like this it is hard to move,it is hard to dress myself.Blouse, a chest plate; dress me in chain mail.- with the helmet on it is hard to see.It is hard to open my eyes, or lift my chin.On days like this, it is hard to be human.It is hard to raise my hands, to buttonor to brush my mangy hair.It is hard to construct the image of a personout of these destitute materials.It is hard to pump clotted, crumbling blood.On days like this, it is hard to be human.
KissingMy lips are still freshfrom our fevered kisses,even after they slowedto a steady flutter;matching our erratic heartbeats.My lips are still rawwith the urge to kiss again.
In absence of a poem.I chewed my pen to the niband swallowed the ink thoughtlessly,but no matter how long I thought,I couldn't say what you mean to me.I tried, I tried and I tested,every word in my diminutive range,but I screwed up more pieces of paperand happened upon something strange;I noticed words, which have served me,for all of my formative years,had no power to convey my gratitudefor the times that you dried my tears.Whenever I doubt myself (often),You're the one who tells me I'm wrongYou lift up my chin and remind me, waitfor the good things that will come along.I can't find a way to express howyou are the saving grace in my head.So words can't tell you how I love you -I hope my silence will tell you instead.
40810If only you were soulless.If you were mindless, blind,you and I could make a beautiful disaster.The press would write of our brief affair;they'd paint me (the woman in red) as pathetic.They will not consider how I need your loveor how it pains me so deeply to throw myself at you.I will not be remembered as a poet warrior.I'll be the eternal survivor no more.All who think of me will shake their bowed headsand tearfully remark; If only you were soulless. If you were mindless, blind, You wouldn't have been such a bloody disaster.
Framed[ I met him at the county fair.It wasn't like the songs predicted;I had mud up my shins and hehad grass in his hair. What a mess. ][ I kissed him at my grandma's house.He swallowed me and digested me;I became a part of his simmering self.We fused together, and I died. ][ I married him in a triangular church,When I turned up in white he grinnedand whispered "what, no muddy knees?".I put a leaf from my bouquet in his hair. ][ He kissed her at my grandma's house.She had left it to us when she passed.In the house where I'd learned about lovehe taught me all I know about betrayal. ][ He left me at the train station.I'd helped him with his leather suitcase,struggling to get a grip of the situationI gave a habitual kiss goodbye. Awkward. ][ He met another girl in group therapy.They had a mad, passionate affair for a yearthen, it expired. Shortly after, she did too.He came to me, life turning to sand. ][ I forgave him at my birthday partysurrounded by friends wh
Don'tTook double the dose to watch the ceiling spin,think about all the mistakes in my life again.Gaze up and try not to cry tonight;wake up to the way the stars shine so brightbut Idon'tdon'tdon't.I lie and take in the plasterGod knows what it is that I'm afterbut it'snothere.I lie and shake and cry til it's overthen I try to move to the sofa'cos it'snot hereand I'd rather be anywhere else.As the world starts to blur there's no one but meand I let my life slip indifferentlyand if you were here, you'd not say goodbyeyou'd catch all my tears and then you would sighand saydon'tdon'tdon't.I lie and take in the plasterGod knows what it is that I'm afterbut it'snothere.I lie and shake and cry til it's overthen I try to move to the sofa'cos it'snot hereand I'd rather be anywhere else.When days are hectic and filled with emotionall I desire is to stop the commotionbut nights are so lonely, life is so drearyand I see the dark things so very clearlyand Iwon't
At Least Your Body Doesn't LieClandestine kisses, of peaches and pearlswith half written romance by half witted girls.Your tongue tells a tale as strong as the liquoreach passing heartbeat taints my heart bitter.Your inaccurate adaption of saccharine truth,whispered affections with the afflictions of youth.You lie with your eyes and deceive with your hips;I die in your arms and taste death on your lips.Liar boy, lover boy, whom I love the most,lift up your glass for a seraphim toast.You lie when you speak but can't lie what you feel,I know what you moan to my teeth is all real.
Ignore AdviceWrite ten bad poems.Write one hundredbad poems.Write profoundly.Write and drink.Keep a notebook with you,write in publicand make sure that othersknow that you are, in fact,writing.Write a love poem,then throw it awaybecause all the good oneshave already been read.Ignore advice,write about the decisioninstead of the feeling.Write one sentence-make indents,say to yourself thatthis is it, THIS is IT.Then delete,and tell yourself that again.
Summers Lost god died today. or maybe it was tomorrow. i can't remember. "ask anything."static skies;grizzled bluesketching downto sewer lines:like a wishon a dead star.the feeling of gritted teethand fingers crosseduntil they break.shame tastedlike a scalpeland a brick wallagainst my throat.and i waschewing concretewhen i said,"it's okay."swallowing cinder blocks;stuffing steel under skin.sugar-sweeton my cheek,like book pages:"where have you been?"
RunawayShe's dancing across hemispheres withred hair writhing in a cosmic halo,wearing a dress as blue as theuniverse.Tip-toeing past terrible, sleeping dragonsas old as time itself, she smilesand leaves her old worldbehind.A symphony of stars sings her way forwardinto the undefinable unknown, whilstshe drinks moon-juice anddreams.But,one day soon, the galaxy will swallowher up, and she will have nevereven existed atall.(Don't blink, or you'll lose her.)
J'ai pris le temps(English version below)J'ai pris le Temps.J'ai pris le temps dans ma main et je l'ai broyé.Je l'ai fait reculer, je l'ai acculé, je l'ai bloqué et menacé.Je l'ai étiré dans tous les sens et je l'ai déchiré.Et puis finalement, je l'ai oublié.J'ai pris le Temps.Ou c'est lui qui m'a pris.L'un de nous s'est mépris.Et l'autre reste surpris.J'ai pris le Temps.Passionnément.Tout doucement.Je l'ai aimé puis détesté.J'ai pris le Temps, j'ai pris le temps.C'est un enfant, terrible, tentant.Il m'a échappé, a fui en courant.Je n'ai plus le temps,Je n'ai plus le temps,Mais de temps en temps...je le reprends.Version anglaise : Merci beaucoup à Menotmyselfori ([link]) pour sa traduction!!!!I took the Time.I took the time in my hand and I crushed it.I made it reverse, I cornered it, I st
shoelaces.i'd like to believe thatleopards can change spots to stripes andpeople can shed bad habits like theloose clothing of mine that once littered your floor.i'd like to believe that love was forthe masses, and that feelings go on pastsub-space and we're not just two starsburnt out.i'd like to believe i still love you.but i don't, i can't, impossible.for your shoelaces never loosened their grip, your foot was always half out the door;every little movement, little ripple, is a way for you todeny all you know.and you'll keep running until the dayyour world crashes and your memories fade away.you'll flee from any challenge, not becauseyou can't face it, because, dear God boy, you're nottoo weak.and your laces as your noose, your feet as your keeper, andi as your witness, you'll bleed everytear, not because you're sad. or angry. or used.but because you're meant to. it's what you've beenrunning from all along.and nothing i or she or he does can change you.i don't, i can't,
Icarus Dreamsi am runningwith kites on runways;slipping smiles into the breeze.throwing paper airplanesdown terminals;fluttering dreams in turbines.i could've called anyonethere a liar--but i only found meinside my head.and if i learnedthat feathersleave papercuts,i might notbe here:afraid of flyingwith the feeling ofmelting waxbetween my fingers
UnknownI'd listen to radio signalsBut all I'd hear is chlorine bleached staticThat leaves a the bitter taste of Advil in my thoughtsDrugged up in an anaesthetic haze of morphine induced comatoseI'd clench my teeth to stop the florescent vowelsFrom escaping my insomniac lipsI've chewed them shut and pasted book spines on my ribcageIn an attempt to be something organic and interestingBecause the plain Jane exterior I've laced between my iris'sIs becoming a contradiction of what little sanity I possess
Suicide Note"Sorry for the mess I made"
springwhen i woke to the melting winteri hoped,but then i rememberedhe died with autumn.
Sleeping soundlyHe's talking in his sleep againAnd I can't help wonderingIf he's saying all the things he feels he can't sayWhen I'm (not) listening in the day.
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