The Grinch of Christmas PresentGone with the deadlineMagic turned to bitten nailsHopes for bigger shoes
AhemEloquent drivel-Slug trails shimmer in moonlight,But it's still just slime.
Stick in the EyeTrouble stickslike the tar pitsof your eyes.Dig me up when I touch the bottom.Till then,I'll be amassing mastodonsFor a later date.
She Talks to FaeriesShe talks to faeries, though earth boundShe's of the moon, my lovely loon.One wing out and one wing inof where the edges fray and thin,Leading off to otherwhere.Threads of aether in her hair,Lachrymose she tarries hereHalfway lost and halfway foundT'ween the toadstools, hunkered downWond'ring why they left her hereA grounded creature of the air.Silly loon,you are a door.That is what they left you for.Halfway ours and halfway theirsSeeing clearly through your tearsA peephole to a far off placeCalled by songs of Otherspace
1000 Feet DownIt's 1000 feet down you would sayAnd I would kick and sway.Beneath me lay such wild and terrible beasts,Each coveting my tender toesWhich trembled at their teeth.And so our game would go,Me clinging there unwilling to let go,Quite sure I'd soon be food for crocodiles,Growing weaker and more frantic all the while,While you stood, arm still sure and strong,Aware 1000 feet was not so longFor a father's love to reach.And though my childish fancies made me fear,Both your arms always would be thereTo catch me falling,To hold me tight and tell me I was brave,That you were there to save me all along,But first I had to show that I was strong.
IncorruptibleThese holes with ragged edges bare a letter of your name.I work hard to keep them open,To enshrine my deep devotion,To ensure the only token that you left me with - my pain.So here I keep you cloistered in the ruin that is me,A tomb to love, a flesh reliquary,Graven image to the past, heart held clasped, hands that grasp,Unwilling to relinquish your remains,Relishing the martyrs role for the one I'd canonize,These sacred scars, my ragged holes,The sweet stigmata of my soul,Weeping that you'd make me whole and open up your eyes,Roll back the rock, releasing me from Sisyphus's stead,But devotion doesn't matter to the dead.My eidolon, my anguish, I've come to realize,For me to live you must be exorcized.I think I will draw you from my veins.I think I will cast thee out.I think I will euthanizeThis worn acolyte once so devout.This is my body. This is my blood.It's time to bury you for good.
EvolutionEvolutionis a silent process of changingwe realise from the result.It Can't Be The Target.
UntitledGlide through the heavensin hopes to evade the crimson wingsthat holds you down.Be free.When will you shut the pearly gatesand walk away?When will you cut the crying chainsthat paint you grey?be free.Be freeBe Free.
ExelixiΕξέλιξηείναι μια σιωπηλή διαδικασία αλλαγήςπου αντιλαμβανόμαστε εκ του αποτελέσματος.Δεν Μπορεί Να Είναι Ο Στόχος.
LostLost –Like a vagabond.Split – At a four-waystreet, past any signsthat I comprehend.If I had I had it my way,I would cruise on the highwayand never stop.
pillow talkthere are thousandsof tongues i couldmemorize; new wordsfor love tucked betweenteeth often bitingtoo hard.my chapsticked lipscould learn to bow togrammar laws incountries i'llnever visit.i could master writingsymphonies in syntax,spend hours penningvolumes in languagesof longing and love,but i'll never find aphrase that fits youthe way your body fitto mine, back bent.i'll never find a namefor how our lips tuckedtogether, for my handsin your hair, for therapture in your eyes.
adolescenceWe look up into the skyand see the stars as millionsof possibilities for us to wrap our handsaround and try, picking and choosingour favorite constellations like applesin the fruit aisle of a grocery store.We talk about our dreamsof leaving this townfar behind and far away,but we don’t talk about howleaving home means leaving each otherand each constellation we wrap our handsaround propels us into completely differentdirections. We want to hold on to each otheras much as we want to let go of this dustbowl,but we can’t have both,and that scares us.We look up into the skyand see how big the galaxy iseven when we can’t see 90% of itand we are suddenly aware of howsmall we actually are, barely grains of sand,barely specks of dust, barely here at all.We stop looking up and lookdown at our feet shuffling,worried and afraid for each otherbecause we barely sleep and failinga class means failing high school,failing to get into the dream college,fai
Five Reasons to Not Write PoetryI.Sooner or later,It'll mess with your head;You'll be taking a shower, orLying in bedWhen the "inspiration"Hits you hardAnd when you miss the bus and first hourYou have to use the"I over-slept" card.II.It'll have you thinkingAt every point of the day;Twisting words and making rhymesProdding until the language swaysTo your fingertipsAnd theLower case letters nipIn hopes that you'll use themAbuse them until you are atYour hem.III.They will mock you untilYou simply can't think;The words swirling around,They will push you to the brinkOf complete denial,Of absolute insanity;"Yes, I ate enough" and "Yes, IFeel fine" are the words youHave to beat.IV.You will not care how peopleReact to what you say;What do they know ofWhat we do everyday?You think that to yourself,As a way to not seek helpIn the comfort of realLove and not the fake kindYou write of.V.You will lie and you willCheat and scoff and sayNothingFor all your mostImportant words are
What Rape Can't Tell YouHe parrots the word, over and over until it sticksLike the bruises on schoolchildren's hands, when they realize purple hurts more than redWhile others mourn the translation lost in betweenThe definition he wroteAnd what they want to scream to the world.All you know is a word,The hell hidden beneath it is nothingBut the trace of a memory that doesn't belongTo you, and you're so glad it isn't yoursBecause then that pain can just be a word,A beautiful illusion of pretend-this-doesn't-happen andThis-won't-happen-to-youYou deserve prettier words, better words, you thinkOnes that stay silent, can be hidden across a pageVictimless and longer than the four letters they warn you aboutYou don't know how that word is strungOr why they tie chords around their wristsIn protest, why the memories they drag are drugged andFilthy with the crimes that can't be forgivenYou don't know how that syllable can hurt,What it can doYou don't see the gashes in their organsOr the fissures tha
EmbersHer hair was orangeand glowed in the fireturning black and ashnot a single moment laterthe scissors were coldThe embers wereglowing just the samehungry for her tressesthe royal red burnedyet no burn was leftHer hair was shortuneven with amber rootsoutgrowing the dyeshowing her natural shademom and dad took the scissors awayOrange locks tickle her neckfire cannot fight firemom and dad breathe easiershe does not touch the scissorsthough she always looksShe is eighteenleaving home is a blessingher hair bundled in a hatshe does not like to see itthe brightness keeps her up at nightThe hairdresser mourns her hairmore than she ever doesas it falls limply to the groundthe locks have lost their hueshe smiles as they fallIt is easier to tell people she is happynow her hair is goneorange roots don't show on a shaved headshe stands proudly nowshe doesn't keep scis
Drink'n it DownGlub Glub.Drink it down.Half Full.Half Empty.Gone.VodkaWhiskeyGin and RumTequilaBeer and wineLoss comes in many flavors.We come in many flavors.Life - It drinks us down.And we'reHalf fullHalf emptyGone