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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
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
For every boy I ever kissedi.
you took my hand 'neath the magnolia
at a christmas dinner party I held.
your mouth was cold. so were my affections.
you were the first man to listen to me.
i let you listen to my heartbeat; but
when the day fell away, you bruised me deep.
you were my safe harbour, and i your storm
turning your misery to naught but air
but i squirmed away from your tongue, repulsed.
you were my cradle, when i couldn't sleep
you would hold me close and pray for something,
anything, to keep me safe. (it was you).
eleven months spent sleeping with my phone,
i still couldn't believe when you kissed me
even after midnight struck us agai
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.
Broken Birds and Stark PhrasesWe slip and slide and fall
down curves and carrow places.
We cursive at the wall
in our undefinéd spaces.
Disjointed limbs extend
to strumpet our arrival,
to warn who are not friends
we will kill to survive all.
Hung upside-down haunters
hug branches in the Forrest.
Merry nightmare monsters,
Cheery snarling chorus,
Arachnic children know;
you can run but you can't hide
from this disparic truth,
darkness waits for you inside.
Although you seek the sun,
as all creaky spinsters might,
the night can't be out done
and it has you in its sight.
L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that
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.
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
The PoetFor the work of a Poet to be truly appreciated
he must write it with his own blood and tears for ink
his soul the sharpened quill to nail the words
like so many specimen of unwilling insects upon the paper.
And once he has bled out
becoming the cause of his own demise
the reader is left behind to digest his soul
so plainly trapped within a cage of words
his requiem written as a love song to his Muse.
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,
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.
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
do you want that?
i knew better than to say it again.
ii. you're an estimated
fallacy, the perfect
you don't need to exist
for people to believe.
they make you real with
dancing tongues behind
of murmuring lips of
iii. of the rain,
i sang songs, whispering
prayers only you
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
thieves of nocturne skiesPaper lanterns are midnight requiems
That tell me to look beyond the
light and have &
Monday, Erased and Re-WrittenDawn broke brittle Monday morning, the sky cracked like eggs
(All done in silence beneath the roaring of my tinnitus)
Twenty 'til something and I'm driving out into blazing light
Looking for what, I won't know 'til its found but its
Just so damned bright and quiet and I think of a sniper in the clock tower
Fallen asleep waiting to pick off his targets but how can he sleep
in this goddamned brightness and nothings moving anywhere
Empty streets, has the world called in sick this morning?
Am I awake? Am I alive? Am I in a movie, maybe a character
in someone's book? Why don't I feel anything? Am I waiting for
the writer to tell me how I feel,
Yuki's Legacy - Max Yukis breath came in short ragged gasps. She lay on her side on the ground. She had no idea where she was, it was too dark to see. Her face was against something hard and cold, and her hair was plastered to her face. She whimpered quietly every once and while, wishing someone could help her.
She wished she could remember what Akane had said before shed left for homeroom. Yuki fought hard to think, but her mind had been numbed, and her panic got the better of her. Her wrists were bound together behind her. She shivered, and then rolled onto her back. Yuki gave a grunt before she kicked her legs up over her head,
InsanityI stand before the mirror
Looking at myself
My eyes are swolen red
Theres tear stains on my chest
I hold a pair of scissors
And take them to my hair
With each lock of hair
I slowly let myself go
Its dark inside my room
Its almost impossbile to see
My hair will look like a hack job
My hair matters not to me
I just want to let go
With each lock of hair
I slowly let myself go
A simple metalic ring
Brunette hair falls swiftly to the ground
Its not working
They told me it would work
Just a personality reform
To go along with my hair
To make a new form
I take another snip
It falls to the ground
Self AbsorbedI'm like an Oreo;
My dark side is greater than the light.
I'm like snail;
Hard on the outside; but volnerable on the in.
I am my beating heart;
Getting faster every moment I lay here.
I'm like a bomb;
Dark and dangerous.
I'm like a shadow;
Unnoticed and stepped on.
I am me.
No one else.
I will not be,
What you want me to be.
I won't go against your every word.
But I won't go with it.
In my own way.
I'll fight you off.
Push you away.
I'll do what I need;
Without your ways.
I will defy.
I will defend myself.
I will defend my ways.
You can't stop me.
Best FriendsMy head was cradled in your arms,
My tears wiped by your finger.
Though you wipe them away;
They continue to come
I can't live without you.
Your my closest friend.
If the world ended,
I know you'd be there.
My parents always told me
Family before friends;
But I never listined
Because I had you.
You pick me up from the ground
And tell me to cheer up.
You compliment my hair
When we both know it looks like shit.
Like my beating heart.
I love you like my sister
Most likely even more.
We finish our sentences.
And do each others homework.
Our parents are pissed,
'Cause were on the phone for hours.
I don't c
I Have SinnedDear Lord, I have sinned
I pray to you forgiveness
My list is long
My knees are bruised
I've turned my back to you
I didn't bow my head
I spoke your name in vain
I apologize to you now.
Your brilliant light of purity
Once spread over me
But I ran, afraid of the light
To hide in the dark
I was afraid of the journey
Afraid of the commitment
Dear Lord, forgive me
I have sinned
I'm sang your song of worship
With failed conviction
I hung my head for prayer
And couldn't think of anything
I'm ready to wipe the slate clean
Read, to forgive and forget
I'm ready for devotion
I'll write my name upon the wall.
Brain WaspsBrain Wasps
I am on the verge of tears. Why is this so hard? I think furiously, twirling the cylinder of Chapstick around in my fingers. I shut my eyes tight and try again.
I reach out to set the Chapstick on the nightstand beside my bed, but seconds after I release the tube I have to grab it again. Wrong, the brain wasps tell me, you have to get it just right.
I briefly consider hurling the thing across the room, but I know that I’ll just have to get out of bed to pick it up again. I am trapped in my own compulsions.
I know it’s stupid, and that’s part of what’s bothering me so much. Why can’t I just p
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`ChewedKandi has certainly gone out of her way to keep the vector community on the right path. Always making sure that her talents are infinitely scalable, Sharon has put her bezier curves to excellent use, and firmly anchored herself as an inspirational leader. We're absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for June 2013 to `ChewedKandi. Congratulations, Sharon! Read More