[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.

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

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.

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.

FossilizedLiving proof of fossils alive,
and no horseshoe-crab am I.

Nor, inhabitable harsh compression of plates,
residing under humid marsh-scapes.

I mold into the walls, as chalky old coal.
But I am no mineral, no era.
I am not, Mesozoic.

Through the ages
Iron
Bronze
silver, gold and heroic.

I remain a still-life; and no Iduna's apples would retain my youth
No magic fountains, or time devices, or wrist watches.
I am the machine of time.
The watcher, omnipotent, the wise.

But

no God am I

Somewhere, sweet tangy sap trolleys down cracked bark.
Somewhere, celestial bodies erupt unseen.
Somewhere, a abrupt breeze blows overturned bi-cycle tire

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A Pearl RingA Pearl Ring

A grain of sand has slipped into my belly
It's nestled somewhere
between the layers of tissue
red muscle and yellow fat

It itches and burns as my body
works it over, works it out
tears itself repeatedly against
its infinite imperfections
wearing them away

When the pearl emerges
I will set it in a ring and sell it
I do not need the jewel to remember
because I'll always have the scars

One More Misspent MorningOne More Misspent Morning

I see him struggle every morning
He seems so strong
and the sheets seem so soft
but he cannot rise
cannot escape

I see him surrender, whispering to himself
One more hour, just one more
as he resets the alarm and goes back to sleep
for one more misspent morning

Six-Gun SerenadeSix-Gun Serenade

The coffee shop and the poetry
The late afternoons and endless evenings
full of alcohol and foolish, unproven boasts
Wordless oaths that wrap around our wrists
tentative tendrils that wither in the morning

The burning certainty
that all the weight of wanting
will give way to satisfaction
in a single, salty kiss

The words that tumble topsy-turvy over my tongue
Late mornings still filled with promise
Soft days like new jeans
still waiting to be broken in
Empty intersections
filled with meaningless signals
flickering endlessly, endlessly

The coffee and biscuits
the trivial trappings
a fringe on the fundam

Epimetheus IIEpimetheus II

I envy you, brother
your foresight, your courage
and your jet black hair
curls thick enough for grabbing

You were always ready to wrestle
when all I wanted was to read
or sit listening to the old men snort and sigh
about the way it used to be

I know, I know
What am I trying to say?
Spit it out, already
spit it out, stupid boy

This stumbling tongue troubles me
It is your tool, not mine
Yours cuts to the bone
Mine has trouble with butter

But where would your lips be, brother
without my ears?
Who listened to your visions
when we laid naked and sweating
among the olive trees, earth still warm
from suckling on

I am the EpimetheusI am the Epimetheus
eater of secrets
hoarder of words

I am the corpse's quiet tongue
and the stories stripped
from its alabaster skin

I am the silence that follows speech
the experience of listening
and the meaning between memories

I am the lapse, the interstice and the omission
I am the darkness, I am the void
I am the gravity you take for granted
reaching for the sun

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The Invisible and Concrete

by ~epimetheus, Nov 16, 2003, 1:15:55 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

The Invisible and Concrete

He walks away
burning mouth full of blood
staining the sidewalk with scarlet stars
every time he spits

He listens to the grass
invisible mouths wide in worship
adoration of the simple for the necessary
glassy songs infinite and empty

He stares up into heaven
every blind eye some desperate star
a tired sky full of bodies burning
waiting to expire

The Invisible and Concreteby ~epimetheus

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

11.16.03

Changes made from the original. Tenses shifted in the first two
stanzas on the suggestion of ~ fauxgravity, line removed from
the third stanza as per ~terov's suggestion, and repetition of the
word sky removed from the third stanza as per my own dissatisfaction.

Original my still be seen on
strangejournal
here.
.

~digitalcrayons

~Misaniovent Jan 3, 2004

Great story, far too common. Nothing about this poem is overly confusing...it all fits together well, and its like a movie made up of words.

I can see it all in my head.

Excellent job...

~Buonarroti Nov 19, 2003

Nice. I write poetry, but I don't have any posted here at DA. I like this, though.

~mrmcpheezy Nov 17, 2003 Writer

He walks away? From what?
The grass...a mouth wide in worship? What?
What is simple, what is necessary?
Where do these glassy songs come in and what do they have to do with anything?
"every blind eye some desperate star". I don't get that line.

"burning mouth full of blood
staining the sidewalk with scarlet stars
every time he spits".
I love that.

Although I liked reading this poem, I was thouroughly confused by it. There wasn't enough information and some of the images were too vague. I don't know. It seemed like it was trying to be a narrative, but I had no idea what the hell was going on.

~fauxgravity Nov 17, 2003

much better with the tense consistency. still think one of those 'burning's should be replaced but it's your poem and it's still great. further comments aren't really needed, so here's that smile you were talking about.... (:

~terov Nov 16, 2003

Must admit I liked
"a tired sky full of burning bodies"
better though. Not sure why.

~terov Nov 16, 2003

:: thumbsup! ::

I like the last stanza enormously. Read at the right pace it has a great rhythmic emphasis. Not a rhyme or off-rhyme, but it's close enough for the impact.

Overall a satisfying, complete idea.

~undesireable Nov 16, 2003

Great visuals, provides a vehement setting towards the reality of the 'life' left to be 'lived'. rather nice work.

~epimetheus Nov 16, 2003 Professional Interface Designer

Thanks man. Glad you liked it.

A.

~terov Nov 16, 2003

(Sorry if this is a double-post. I hit the submit button accidentally before it was ready.)

I would actually like to see revisions on a different note to up the verb content.

"burning mouth full of blood" to me is intensified as "mouth burning full of blood"
"invisible mouths open in worship" as " invisible mouths moving/trembling in worship" (something along those lines).
To me the dual meaning (verb/adjective) of "open" muddies the visual.

And the last stanza could lose
"died long before he was born"
without really discarding meaning and regain consistent length with the rest of the poem.

~epimetheus Nov 16, 2003 Professional Interface Designer

Changes have been made. Check it out and see what you think.

Adam

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