[x]

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
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav

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

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

SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
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

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?

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
No pain

SisterSister

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
to come,
in the future.

Onceyour beauty lies restless behind those
hills, where you fought valiantly. and
the man you once were was brave and kind,
but now you are possessed by a passenger
of darkness, whispering words of your
loneliness.

the man you once were is forgotten, and
the man you are today, is only a ghost, a
shadow, of what you were before.

Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,
you'd be wrapped in the sweetest
perfumes
(learning
how to engulf the ocean
with your lungs
and think of how to cup it
in your hands
despite
your broken prayers and
still be beautiful)

dance with the gypsies
'till noon
(a quake in
your hips like the thrust
of continents
and the faultlines
emanating from
your spine,
but still
so, so graceful)

sing with the nymphs
in tune
(your voice,
it's growing old,
raspy even.
your throat's burning dry
like a monsoon
faltering in a desert,

and tones
still octaves
powerful)

be nestled in a king's arms
soon
(oh, you precious
little thing.
how

HorsepowerHorsepower

There’s a knife turnin in my soft parts
And heat burnin my mind on hard starts
The motors runnin but I lost the wheel
Just want it to be numb don’t wanna feel
Take two steps back and put it in park
Before I leave scarred up black marks
I need a u-turn on this highway
But can’t go back on the by-way
So look ahead, the pavement goes on
Break the rear-view mirror it’s gone
Contemplate
Reiterate
Put it in drive
And say goodbye
Let’s see how fast this bitch can fly

-Cygam7

nightmarethe foxes are at your bedside and singing--
feversongs,
songs of boiling thoughts
and broken muscles.
their lullabyes.
they sneak so quiet, and
somehow,
you can't quite
dream
anymore.

Lost In ConfusionMy mind is spinning without a rest
emotions whirl and twirl around
A merry-go-round gaining speed
Until the world blurrs before my eyes
What's happening? What's going on?

The simplest thought slips away
Right from my mind, fading so fast
Trying to focus, I stare and stare
Until my eyes are heavy and unclear.
I don't understand, what is going on...

Emotions rise and fall again
Within the blink of an eye
I'm crying, laughing, and depressed
A rollercoaster ride that never ends
Am I losing my mind in this ?

I try to close my eyes and rest
But the world spins me around
I feel like I am failing this test
Voices and noisies echo in my min

Puppet My tears fall,

like invisible

diamonds.

My heart beats,

like soundless

drums.

Unwanted,

because of the

strings attached.

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
Again
Why me? When I know I have to be up at 3 AM.

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

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Three Minutes Before the End

Three Minutes before the End of the World

I am hesitating
from holding
her hips
trembling
beneath a paper skirt
in the liquid moment
before dawn

She smells something sweet
stronger
for the water in the air
suffusing the artificial fruit
invisible in her skin

Her lips
must be full
and glossy as the mirrored moon
but all I can see
are her hips
trembling between my hands
knowing that
this is inappropriate
in the middle of the street

At three minutes before
the end of the world
we should do more
than dread each others'
touch
But we aren't
So she trembles
and I swear

As the world ends around us
Mercy St.
comes al

Let it Drown

Let it Drown

The single most fact
that stings most\'s that
I\'ve written nothing
that\'s even worth keeping
and I keep thinking
while you\'re all sleeping
that I\'m worth reading
but nobody interesting
is encouraging
me to keep printing
so now I\'m just tired, a little bit jaded
somewhat irritated
cause I\'m still dreaming
of all the things I want, but just can\'t have
because it\'s all up front, not in my bag
and even though I write all day
I can\'t find the right thing to say
that this things mine
so maybe now it\'s time
to make shit mine

What\'s more
just to settle the score
peel back wounds just to make them raw

Adam and Yamila

[They are backstage at a strip club. The backdrop is a dingy velvet curtain, the only props are a set of stairs leading up to the curtain. Colored lights flash behind it and Metallica seems to play endlessly]

Adam: Did you'd think I'd forgotten you?

Yamila: You have.

Adam: But you're here.

Yamila: In a paper vacuum where I can't even hear the sound of my own voice. How can I even be sure I'm speaking?

Adam: You've your tongue to tell you.

Yamila: It's your tongue in my mouth.

Adam: Don't be coy, it doesn't suit you.

[She turns her back to him.]

Adam: You're here. [He touches his heart]

Yamila: Mentiroso.

Adam: Ok. Here. [He tou

Clowdisley

Clowdisley

He thinks
drowning in the fog
of edges
land and sea and stone
groping for them even now
unseen

He thinks watching the man
swing for ambition
(the erratic pendulum of a wooden clock)
of the currents and the winds
that swell and push
their little boats across the water

He considers the moon
teasing the tide
in a roundabout way
from the sky

He thinks
stones pricking
the bottoms of their ships
as the deck erupts
in the chaos of ants
that someone was mistaken

And he thinks
suffering on the beach after
struggling with the water
misty silhouettes
already bearing down on him
that being saved
had nothing to

Mistresses Dont Tell - v2

Mistresses Don\'t Tell

Meet me
in a soft room laced in infidelity
full of absence mixed with mystery
absynthe and invisibility

Unlace me and
uncover sugared coils
untie me and
release me from this satin cage
then touch me
slowly
arouse me, gently
with fingertips
and hands as hard and patient as the dead

Push me into nimble lips that
could coax a kiss from Adam\'s Eve
Kisses often cruel as knives
slipped the ribs of sleeping brides

Bend me into and
around you and
breathe into an
opened mouth
fit for frightful screaming
Leave the gift of blooming bruises on my lips

Seduce the body
with kisses and cream
lay me

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Cigarette Break

by ~epimetheus, Jan 25, 2004, 11:04:06 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Cigarette Break

I know, I know
even in this puddle I don’t look like she does
that my hair won’t shimmer like hers:
oil on asphalt, after the rain

I know that my lumpy face
won’t smile straight as hers
teeth as even as train tracks
(once the braces were removed)

I know that my mouth is too big
my eyes are too honest
and my heart is still empty
echoing everything
a new room needing
bodies, motion, light
and the clutter of speech
confused with laughter

I know that I want you
in a soft and necessary way
that I long to push your hand to the shape of my need
until you cannot tell the two apart
that I want to press our bellies together
and feel the ridges of your ribs
like bananas in a paper sack

I know you cannot hear my whispering
persisting instead in wanting what will not have you
that you will not settle for my simple seduction
lacking in the dramatic complication
of your self inflicted wounds

I know
with all the certainty of rain
that standing in this parking lot
in blue jeans and fading flannel
where the concrete is becoming gravel
I know, looking out over town
as I inhale and exhale
fingering an unlit cigarette
I know, standing here consuming
ten minutes of uncluttered air gains me nothing
that no one is listening to these tilted conversations
that might be mistaken for prayers

I know, I know
I have to go back inside
where the air is full of noise
and the smoke surfaces above the grease
where I am only a parrot with no words of my own
a cracked vessel leaking specials with every breath
and the only consolation of not getting to be me
is not missing you

Cigarette Breakby ~epimetheus

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Dunno where this came from. Call it a ghosts spin off. I'm not sure I like it so much, I feel as though it should be plainer and more beautiful simultaneously. Essentially I think it should be smoothed out a bit, but I've tugged the corners as much as I can tonight.

.

~digitalcrayons is responsible for all of my random attractants.

~justb Feb 3, 2004 Writer

Ooof. Nice ending. This had great voice all the way through.
Good job.

!haunt Jan 28, 2004 Artisan Crafter

this is nice, a bit like bubblegum. sweet and somewhat guilty, and it seems like the kind of thing the female reader would like to chew on repeatedly. however, there are some details that just don't work even on repeat readings:

lumpy face.

the entire fifth stanza. i think the sixth stanza is exposition enough and the fifth sort of knocks the wind out of what's to come.

i'm also not sure what leaking specials means?

this is a marked tonal shift from the previous as you noted, but it should work well with the others with a bit of polish.

polish is something with which i've become familiar, lately. it can consume the process if you're not careful. i'm sure you are, though. so i'm not worried.

~epimetheus Feb 10, 2004 Professional Interface Designer

I think you mean 'sentimental' reader, not just female.

Leaking specials means that she's a waitress and she has to tell the specials to every table she goes to.

Oh the process of revision. Re-vision.

Oi.

Adam

!haunt Feb 10, 2004 Artisan Crafter

right. i was thinking specifics then, of course. thinking of people i knew who would devour this. all my examples were female. another crumbling mechanism of the mental shortcut. i know more sentimental males than females. i guess i just wasn't thinking about them.

i understand. sometimes my receptors are dulled by writing five papers in a weekend and such.

interested to see what happens.

~morbiddreamweaver Jan 27, 2004

love it!

~terov Jan 26, 2004

Oh yes. Perhaps not your most polished work, but it resonates with me personally. The din of dreary day to day existence is better than solitude and stillness after crisis.

I want to see where you head with this... Do I get a deviant-watch alert for updates, or just for original submissions?

!haunt Jan 28, 2004 Artisan Crafter

yeah, deviantwatches alert you to revisions. at least they do for me.

~amyfae Jan 26, 2004 Writer

This is lovely. It makes me want to fall in love with you. Or something *smile*.

First stanza really pulled me in with the puddle imagery, although I felt like there were too many words used to describe it.

I like the repitition of "I know" at the beginning of each stanza; it is somehow unobstrusive, a subtle device to pull the piece together.

Third stanza: "heart is still empty" didn't seem to fit as well...too...cliche? or something. But I like the room imagery you use after, and wonder if it would flow better if " still" was another "too" to parallel the others. I don't know. I really like " clutter of speech/confused with laughter" .

I love the fourth stanza. It is there that I would fall in love with you.

The fifth stanza I'm not so sure about. The ideas seem to be so much more complicated to understand...I had to be careful and multiple in my readings. It seemed different somehow from the rest of the poem.

Sixth stanza: You say "I know" only once and all alone and it doesn't look right. It's the only thyme I really realized the repitition was there, it was a little jarring. "ten minutes of uncluttered air gains me nothing" Something feels awkward to me in that line, and a bit in the one following, but mostly that one.

Last stanza: The double "I know" brings one back to beginning, and is lovely again. The parrot line and the one right after again feel awkward, chunky to me. I feel like they could be more elegant - and I like what they are saying, but...I dunno. I guess just awkward, like I said.

But I really really like the poem. And am all proud of myself for immediately commenting on one of your pieces instead of letting it sit around for months.

*hugs*

`niteangel Jan 26, 2004

Really a nice piece of writing. I stare at it and imagine each scene you mentioned....beautiful...also triggered my feelings, about my ex...

~Buonarroti Jan 26, 2004

How poetic...

I'm sure you already know that it's hard to find good poetry outside of textbooks and so forth. But this... this is good. I feel it like a pain in my side, an ache in my stomach. I know this feeling. Very nice piece.

Oy, I'm too paranoid to post poetry here.

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