[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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Sappho

Sappho

If you stand there
silent any longer
saying nothing, your words
may seep from under your skin
and trail down your legs
like blood from a newly cracked egg
and you will appear
just old enough to think
yourself a woman

I remember
when you were thin
as a twig, barely budding
nipples like pebbles
when cold morning
ran her hands between
the sheets

Now here you are
angry before me
fingertips and twisted tongue
lyrist, mother and lover
dressed in the long purple
of priestesses
and queens

I know why you are here and
I have no regrets
or apologies
Andromeda
is old enough to pick flowers
or lovers
as she choos

Armadillo Eagle and Whale

The Armadillo, The Eagle, and The Whale

What would you do if you came to the edge of the world?

What?

What would you do. If you came to the edge of the world.

Spit over the edge. [laughs] Why? What would you do?

I dunno. It\'s like, how profound would that be. To find the actual edge of the world. To encounter a border. Not merely some line drawn across maps guarded jealously from people who speak another language, but literally the end. The place where everything ends. Not just the end of a cliff, but like, the edge of the universe. What if you came to the edge of the universe?

I\'d spit over the edge.

And your spit would c

The Tallest Man in the World

The Tallest Man in the World

I had a dream
that I was the tallest man
in the world

It wasn\'t that I was so tall
so much as it was
that everyone else was
short
but then perhaps
that\'s how every tall guy feels
surrounded by the diminutive
and Liliputian

I would stride through crowds
as though through knee high grasses
parting as I strode down the sidewalk
in slow motion
balance a new concern
and gravity having slowed things
to a crawl

I saw a tall shadow in the distance
with long hair and long legs
willowy in silhouette
and I made toward that skinny shadow
in the sun

But
try as I might
I could not catch her
becomi

Poor Aim Bad Timing

Poor Aim, Bad Timing

Fuck you
and your babbling
bullshit
I will kiss who I wish
in spite
(or because)
of my problems

It is one mouth for drinking
and two eyes for seeing
and three seconds decide
our four lips are kissing

Because you are right
when you say
that your veins were full of vodka
and your eyes were
alive
for the first time since I\'d met you
with something other than regret
even if that was
anger

I am only shouting now
because you started crying
because I wanted to hear my voice
above the nonsense
and indulgence of a girl
abandoned
whose breasts became medals
in her mind
whose cunt was cut and bleeds
s

A Clutter of Wires Cut Cleanly

A Clutter of Wires Cut Cleanly

Waking.
Morning.
Naked, clean.
Sun light puddled
on the cool wooden floor.
Scent of skin, sheets, cold
and distance
Only emptiness outside
the color of sky
the color of clouds.
Air empty except
the rustling drapes
and the radio
talking blindly
in a barren room.
Her bare feet
against the
cool wooden floor
count out the days
in odd numbered steps
toward the door,
echo the empty days
between where she was
and where she\'s going,
measure distance
between two lives.
An incomplete week
of freedom between
the hospital
and the office.
Life becomes
uncluttered
by lines of routine
a

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Concrete Kiss

by ~epimetheus, Jan 10, 2004, 10:18:48 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Concrete Kiss

I.

The city is a glass knife
a blunt blade against the edge of the sky
carving heaven into pieces sold by the foot
length and width: new measures of respect
Relationships now defined by distance
propriety pared into necessity
handshakes hugs and the artificial kiss

Skylines divided by highway and skyrise
distance diminished by subways and trains
riding smoothly skyward in elevators
silent, but heavy with bodies and breath
sliding skin to skin into a crowded car
slick with the smell of metal and tensed flesh

Unless of course we are lucky
stuck with strangers on the concrete plain
cool as cathedrals in our idling automobiles
waiting impatiently
to eat up one more asphalt inch

II.

The city is a broken body
leaking steel from wounds stitched in its skin
Cars clot concrete arteries, flowing slowly home
to pool in cul-de-sacs and cool in the two car garage
Trains trace trails of voltage and smoke
through the gates of suburban sanctuary
bleeding bodies onto busses and bicycles
while the rest walk slowly home

III.

The city is a concrete rag
soaking up bodies and dreams
society’s shards sunk into its skin
fallen from a sky once reserved for heroes and gods

Doors lock against the demon drink
in possession of bodies only momentarily
only until the chemicals dissolve and reality returns
a sober cold that cannot be kept out by coats

Alleys, tunnels, and gutters fill up with phantoms
the forgotten and misloved, the disillusioned and dreaming
rummaging the recycled city, fending off knives and nightmares
backs turned to a hungry wind lost
weathering one more night in a season of survival

Concrete Kissby ~epimetheus

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Artificial Kiss v.2. I like this piece a lot better. I feel like this version is much more final. The second stanza softens things a bit, but to me makes more sense of the entire scenario. I like the new stanzas in sections I and III and feel like they let the poem breathe a bit more. Less heavy monotony. I cleaned up some of the difficult phrases, cut some of the superfluous ones, and, of course, changed the title.
.
~digitalcrayons

~amyfae Jan 26, 2004 Writer

I do like this version better than the other. My comment is about the word " city" in the very last stanza...simply because you only use the word in the first line of each section otherwise; it feels like it shouldn't be elsewhere in the poem. But that's just me.

~festivemanb Jan 18, 2004

This poem is quite accomplished. I really like the rhythm of the peice and the repetitive alliteration, it unites the peice, gives it an overwhelming power. I have a coupla comments:
1) I reckon that in line 2 blunt should be jagged. When you look a the skyline it is jagged, uncertain. I don't think it looks blunt. Anyway.
2) In section 3, line 3, I am a bit bothered with 'society'. I don't really see how this phrase works. But that's just me.
3) Don't you think that the sheer universality of people comparing roads to the beating veins of an ubranpomorphic(?) city is something rather cool? I mean, this image of the beating veins of Chicago or New York is something so beautiful that it just sears itself on the minds of writers. A wish, perhaps, to turn what is uncertain, comlicated, dirty and beautiful, into something human and understandable.
Anyway.
bm

~epimetheus Jan 19, 2004 Professional Interface Designer

You're right about jagged, and it will be changed. I don't mind the word 'society.' Yes, I do enjoy the image of a city as a body, but then, that's why I wrote the poem. But we know that the city isn't only a body, which is why I wrote the poem.

A.

~terov Jan 17, 2004

Outstanding. Great pacing throughout, which I didn't expect with the teeth-clank intensity of the opening, but evolved beautifully throughout the piece.

My only gripe is the word "society's" which has--to my mind--fallen from poetic favor lately. But consulting a few thesauri, I certainly can't come up with anything better.

!haunt Jan 15, 2004 Artisan Crafter

yeah, you've hit it with this. i can't see any parts that require additional attention.

`tmpst24myst Jan 11, 2004 Student Writer

this is excellence.

~justaphase Jan 11, 2004 Writer

very good retreival of the raw version. i agree with your self - analysis. the one line that i question is the lack of the word "square" before foot in "carving heaven into pieces sold by the foot" unless you intended to conjour an image of a foot in the human body part sense. i like it, and its relationship to the Ghosts party. ramrod straight and dry as nitrogen, it.

~gyroscope Jan 11, 2004

it's a much more poetic take, and i like it equally. the first was the body, this is the soul, and both are written icily.

great.

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