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Queen UlyssesYou build me up
and break me down
I can't take anymore
My dreams have gone and
Drowned on your mind's shore
What once was love can't be found
What once ignored no more
You build me up
and break me down
I can't take anymore
My sweet love
At cold Neptune's mercy
My worries are to earthy
I'm not worthy, come home.
HesitationWe live under a mountain of snow that slowly accumulates as we drift into sleep.
From this mountain a small signet of light can be seen, if one ventures to the peak, just before the harsh wind seeks to return you to the white blindness. This light, comes from a door, left slightly ajar. A door that lives on the edge of a withered field. The cows have left the grass uneven, yet a path can be seen, giving it's origin to this mysterious door. This cold and harsh environment could never let you reach this destination. So you must sit and wonder until spring comes, and the river returns full of lively fish.
MiS PaLaBRasMis palabras
Son impotantes para mí
Pero, en cualquier lenguaje
Mientras yo miro a la prosa
Infundada. ¿Tienen sentido las palabras?
¿solamente lo tienen a uno,
que está dispuesto a asimilar la importancia
que el autor hubiese querido?
¿Si no tuviese lentes
Serían más importantes las palabras
que no más tengo que forzar para ver?
¿Por la creciente
Desbaratar la deficiencia de mis ojos
Que quiero corregir.
Las palabras pierden su sentido?
¿Que cosa nos hace leer?
Y estar prudente en el análisis de esto?
Ode to the Water BottleWhy are you not wise water bottle?
Filled with the stuff of life and
Hated, must you spend those
Wasteful years among the
Saddened and ruined things
Depressing that it's your parents who hate
the ones who proclaimed you
Now are your enemy
This pure chalice
lay in form
while the others waste into the natural cycles
when they mold into you
will they hate you so?
may the journey of your offspring
be filled with valor
you never stop growing
and only is the way up
sorry, just keep growing maybe one
will realize what he has done
but until then,
I will plant your seeds,
The Boy Who Wouldnt EatIf you can flutter
I have failed you,
for you were not forged
to be so insubstantial as that
You were writ
to be an epic fable
of endings ignored,
of outlasting your body
through the sheer will
of a writers starving heart
through a broken, bowed
but bravely abiding body
that fights the soul
to comprehend Beauty.
................written in a frenzy and run-on
and exclamation points
used in rapid succession
words all blurred
so bare bones it's bloody
strung out and on display
in a frightening combination
of paragraphs and stanzas
punctuation gone mad
ellipses my new black
used and abused
then spit out
in gratuitous repetition
there is no word count here
no hearts dotting the i's
just a string of letters
done up in cursive
but not very pretty at all
Five AMPre-dawn darkness again, seething, quiet
A monster hugging the city
How heavy, how suffocating it is
The clock has run down on time for dreaming
A void between night and morning
Ready to swallow everything up
A time for old men's reflections
On love, and loss, and sorrow
Oppressive black sky, you eat everything
But the all-night diner
Where lonely old men sit
Drinking coffee at five AM
you're just a question marki met you so long ago
but back then our bodies were made of metal
and nowadays they’re made of the blades of
grass and dirt settling
underneath my fingernails.
my fingers are having a hard time
reaching the keys and
my organs are shaking mostly because i haven’t
eaten in two days but also
because i’m worried about the things you're doing to yourself.
we didn’t meet very long ago at all but it feels like forever ago
and you say you don’t know me
that you don’t know anyone
but baby you're turning into a skeleton and i’m peeling back my skin
to try and reach my bones, just like you.
i hope you're happy,
i’m covering the hard wood floors now
the bits and pieces splattered.
they are calling it a suicide but i’m calling it
a way to see my brain and
just how dark it has become, and honestly
i don’t want you to try and see about your’s.
i’m mourning the loss of my heart and wish you weren’t either -
Sound PoemIthrumden, ithrumden delsum
nith mul thruss elmrissull.
Eth rut mundelliss
Curmiette dessel renrin
irme trell ithrumden.
The partyFlashing lights
Smoke all around
About to pass out
My head starts to hurt
I can't take this anymore
So without saying anything
I find the exit
And escape that place
"How can someone have fun in there?"
Coming HomeComing down the ramp I spotted you in the crowd
Your tenderloin skin always stands out
Your aura was particularly bright that day
Whirling dervish colors in the pale sun
You wore a chauffeurs cap and held a sign that said “Anyone”
I knew that I wasn’t anyone, so I walked away
“Strange days,” someone said, and I agreed
I hate crowds and old garbled memories
Arriving home, my wife and cat didn’t recognize me
I looked in the mirror and noticed that I was someone else
Still carrying my old baggage, I turned away
I should have taken your limo
~days eat days
like I eat potato chips
on a couch whose
springs have thrown out
their backs no longer able
to hold even the remote up.
it sinks between the seats like
I do every lonely saturday night
or every evening I can’t quite
make it to bed, cupped with
similar back problems,
a similar sag.
I’ve begun to
take after my furniture.
"the only unattractive curve,"
a girl once said to me with a few
desirable curves herself,
"is the one a person develops
in their back.”
we dated for a month and
she called me her
hunchback of notre dome
(it’s dame, babe.)
and I called her beautiful.
and nothing else.
but somehow her leaving did nothing
to straighten my bent back but
only managed to deepen
my parenthetical stance on
those who love me
(they don’t exist).
things i cannot doi cannot sleep
and most certainly stay asleep-
with the black edged creatures
trembling at the corners
to trap me in tendrils of nightmare,
i shift too emptily for peace.
i cannot brave an appointment
i need hands to hold
this broken ship
caught in the waves with no crests.
i forget about the things i love,
but things i hate include
how i am haunted everyday
how i cannot seem
to call him by name
or directly address him-
there is no "you"
in my words,
only fear and flashbacks.
i cannot leave an unfinished crossword out of my thoughts
just like a relationship that had tapered off;
i cannot let go of things that have melted into my grip;
i cannot break a heart
UntitledPave me into a building and I should feel more important than ever,
Place me into a cloud and I shall feel like god.
Nail me into wood and I shall feel as I am nature.
Build me into your home, and I shall always feel warm.
Construct a monument in my honor and I shall feel vapid
Worship me and I shall feel overestimated.
Carry me and I shall feel helpless.
Tell me and I shall feel sorry.
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More