Waiting for a coach
and four
that never came,
she realized
a ball gown
won't bloom
out of sackloth;
glass slippers
are not dependable
and mice
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
man.

IcarusSun girl,

the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.

Do not let anyone
clip your wings;

you were made for the skies.

Definition of a Writerwrit•er

noun /rītər/

A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery

They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish

A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own

They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone

Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.

The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress

Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.

A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.

Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn&rsqu

i got flowers oncei am lonely.
i received flowers once
and i placed them
in a vase til
the petals all browned
desiccated
and turned to dust
on the glass of my bureau.

i have never gotten flowers since.

i spend my days
with a boy
a man
whom i love far beyond reason
and he holds me in his arms
and holds me together.

i bite my nails
and pull my hair
over the moment when he
inevitably
feels the disenchantment
fall over his body,
all clean lines
and smooth shapes,
and realises that leaving
the worst thing
would be
the best thing.

i am lonely
and even with a hand to hold,
and even with a cloak of security
bunching around my shoulders
and hiding my thighs,
i feel

moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:

giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --

burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.

it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.

L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
Saving myself
Being who
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that

Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs

I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight

I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family

I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push

I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"

I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says

I can't trust anyone because they do

Missing piecesMissing pieces

There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk in pieces, howling
around my heart.

-SophieCT, 2012, 2013

field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.

Asperger's SyndromeAsperger’s Syndrome

This is what makes me different.
It is what makes me both distant and compassionate.
It is what makes me both tired and creative.
It is what makes me both sassy and awkward.
It is what makes me both fairly normal and completely insane at the same time.

This is what makes me amazing.
It is what gives me my talents and achievements.
It is what gives me my intelligence and ideas.
It is what gives me my humor and individuality.
It is what gives me my passion and dedication.

This is what makes me flawed.
It is what makes me confused and anxious.
It is what makes me exhausted and frustrated.
It is what makes me uncertai

MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings

Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee

van houten must be godi. you know how in embroidered cloth,
from the bottom under the design,
all you see are knots? her honey-like,
crying
voice lulls me to sleep,
that's what we see of God's plan.
just the knots. when in reality,
it's the design on top;
beautiful and flawless that He
has in store for us.
bullshit.
i learnt that word
when i was three
but every time i said it,
my face hurt and mom's hand fell.
God will put you
in hell.
do you want that?
i knew better than to say it again.
ii. you're an estimated
fallacy, the perfect
misconception.
you don't need to exist
for people to believe.
they make you real with
dancing tongues behind
a crowd
of murmuring lips of
god's will.
iii. of the rain,
i sang songs, whispering
prayers only you
could hear.
if you truly are
what they say for you to be,
then there are no secrets
between you and me.
mother still sings
the same songs
in the rain, hoping
you'll hear her the way
i thought you would.
but she doesn't know you died long ago
with chiv

blood-red wine and skeleton jazz i.
the day you left,
your cobweb dress clung to you in ways
that i would dream about for years,
in hot, fevered nights
when the moon thought it might burst
in the sky,
and even the wind wailed your name.

ii.
i remember how you called make-up war paint,
and you drew it across your face like a message
i could never decipher;
i remember how i got goosebumps when i heard
your heels clicking across the floor at 3am
when you finally got home and slipped into bed;
i remember longing for you with every fiber of my being,
feeling separate from you even when our clothes lay on the floor
and your fingernails dug into my shoulders
and your toes curled

thieves of nocturne skiesPaper lanterns are midnight requiems
That tell me to look beyond the
light and have &

Browse More Like This

More from ~epimetheus

The Complication of CatsMe: Have you always been a cat?

Her: As long as you\'ve been looking.

M: And before that?

H: Before that I didn\'t exist.

M: You did.

H: I did. But it didn\'t matter.

M: Oh. Was that difficult?

H: No. Not really.

M: No? What was it like?

H: Like being naked.

M: Sexy.

H: Depends.

M: On what?

H: On who\'s around.

M: Oh. But...you\'ve been a cat as long as I\'ve been looking?=

H: Yes. (She flicks her tail.)

M: I guess that might explain why you treat us all like mice.

H: Only when I\'m hungry.

M: What\'s it like being a cat?

H: Sexy.

M: So it\'s like being naked?

H: Yes, but furrier.

M: Do you like to be touched?

H: Y

Dreamo in the Bus StationDreamo in the Bus Station

When Dreamo needs to go somewhere
he goes to the bust station
and waits
Sometimes a ticket appears
sometimes it doesn\'t
When it does
sometimes it is to the place that Dreamo wants to go
Sometimes it isn\'t
But even if it\'s not the place he wants to go
it becomes the place he is going

While he sits and waits for what he needs
(for what else is there
but needing and waiting?)
He watches children go by in strollers
and he sees them with gypsie eyes
like tiny jewels in plastic rings
to be spirited off
to be taken with ten hungry fingers
like spider\'s legs or tentacles
in an absent moment when mothe

What Dreamo SeesWhat Dreamo Sees

What Dreamo sees is mostly not there
That is: it has yet to take shape, take form
take time to realise itself and exist
His parents used to say to friends,
standing in the yard watching little Dreamo play
\'Dreamo sees things that just aren\'t there\'
with their hands over their mouths
and their mouths filled with midwestern frustration
that Dreamo inspired in most of the hard working people he knew

He does his best to fill in the spaces he sees
the places between the lines that need attention and color
He uses the spray can in his back pack that clicks gently to itself wherever dreamo walks
as though counting th

View Gallery · View Prints

Featured in Groups

Not currently featured in any groups.

Cigarette Break v.2

by ~epimetheus, Feb 10, 2004, 8:06:09 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Cigarette Break

I know, I know I don’t look like she does
even in this puddle where I can pretend
that my hair shimmers like hers:
oil on asphalt, after the rain
I know that my face
won’t smile as straight:
teeth as even as train tracks
(once the braces were removed)

I know that my eyes are too honest
my mouth is too big
and I am still alone
echoing everything
like a new room needing
the clutter of speech confused with laughter

I know I want you
in a soft and necessary way
that I long to hold your hand
against the edge 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 green bananas in a paper sack

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
fingering an unlit cigarette
you cannot hear this whispering
I know, standing here consuming
ten minutes of uncluttered air
that no one is listening
to this tilted conversation
that might be mistaken for prayer

I know, I know
I have to go back inside
where the air is full of noise
and the smoke mixes with the grease
where the only words I have
are the ones they ask me to repeat
a cracked vessel leaking specials with every breath
where, between the eggs over easy
and the undercooked steak, I can forget
knowing the consolation of not being me
is not missing you

277

5 9 77

Cigarette Break v.2by ~epimetheus

Favourite

Description Details Share

Download HTML download, 1.8 KB

Version two. Better. Succincter. Less confusion, less splattering. More streamlined. A final version?

**************************************** ******************************

~digitalcrayons is like a god who uses a pencil instead of using whatever a god really uses.

Details

Stats

Submitted on: February 10, 2004
File Size: 1.8 KB

Views: 277
Favourites: 5 (who?)
Comments: 9
Downloads: 77

~betterblind Mar 15, 2004

i know this poem has been posted for quite a while, and i included it in my favourites some time ago too, but i never had the chance to comment, since at the time i didnt feel i had much to say to writers that obviously knew what they were doing. But i just wanted to say (at the risk of gushing) that this is probably one the best poems i've ever read. it's emotional, subtly erotic, imagistic, has everything you could possibly want in a poem.

~justb Feb 21, 2004 Writer

Existentialistic towards the end. Sort of set up by the scene in the parking lot. You bring the reader a lot of extricable information. You aren't just synthesizing feeling and word but creating scenes which the reader is almost there with you in. Very good work.

!haunt Feb 20, 2004 Artisan Crafter

i know.

this time i seem to get the distraction inherent to the leaking specials. i think what confused me was initial tendency of the reader (me) to read leaking as an adjective in this case.

but now, the end of the work builds the distraction inside mundane gruntwork as the beginning and middle illustrate the reason why. of course there's a thread throughout.

~xwhisperx Feb 17, 2004

"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 I want you "
in a soft and necessary way"
this one is wonderful.

~amyfae Feb 12, 2004 Writer

I loved the piece first thyme around. And I love it now. The imagery, and the rhythm (rythm?), the way the piece moves so easily through itself. love love love.

Yes.

~epimetheus Feb 13, 2004 Professional Interface Designer

How very Joycean of you to end on Yes.

Thank you Penelope.

Adam

~conjured Feb 11, 2004 Writer

I don't know if you get the same impression as i do, but your previous one was much much better.
Certainly much more intimate.
Maybe it's because i adored the original, that when it's edited, what was left out now appears glaringly needed.

~epimetheus Feb 13, 2004 Professional Interface Designer

While I appreciate your sentiment, I find your comment lacking in any real quality advice. If you really liked the first one, and have a real argument for it, you should point that out in your comment so I can see the value of your opinion in changing or not changing the poem. While it's important to know what you feel, it's more important to hear what you think articulated in a way that ultimately relates back to the work, otherwise none of us are ever going to get any better.

A.

~kaujot Feb 10, 2004

Good stuff, and certainly excellent imagery. I really get a feel for the narrator, and that's most definately the best part of all. I relate, and that makes the impact that much stronger.

Yay!

More from ~epimetheus

Featured in Groups

Cigarette Break v.2

277

Cigarette Break v.2by ~epimetheus

Details

Stats

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style

URL	Thumb
Share Share on Facebook Share on Tumblr Share on Twitter Share on Pinterest Share on Reddit Share on Google+ Share on StumbleUpon Share on LiveJournal

More from ~epimetheus

Featured in Groups

Cigarette Break v.2

277

Cigarette Break v.2by ~epimetheus

Details

Stats

URL

Thumb

Share

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style