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ButcherMeat before your knife
Skinned and waiting to be sliced
Hoping you will cut me down instead of up.
With strokes both careless and precise
The blood - the blood that stains your knife
I would have given you my life,
But you have taken more.
Rosemary For RemembranceHer hands in the water
She re members the freck le s o n his
As th e wo r d s d ra g h e r
Get t he e to a n u n n er y
G E T T H E E T O A N U N N E R Y
BelovedI should be stronger for you Dear,
Not dieing in the darkness here,
Rotting from the inside out
Devoured by my fear.
I'de be a shining star for you,
A broken satellite
Burning off her energy
To guide you through the night,
But all I do is gaurd the gate
And keep its doors thrown wide
In hopes you will return to me
While darkness slips inside.
And how it storms the parapets
And shakes my every stone
and echoes through my hallways,
Child, you are so alone.
You are waiting for a ghost
that will not come again.
Nothing is outside your walls,
And Nothings coming in.
Are you a prisoner or a fool
Who stays yet trembles so,
Cloistered in these crubling walls
Unable to let go?
For cowardice we mock you.
Upon your strength we feed,
And if you hear his cries outside
You should not pay them heed,
For they are nothing but the wind
That whistles in the still,
And if your house is empty,
Then we are here to fill.
And if your heart is heavy,
Then we can take that too.
There's lots of things
P.S.Swan feathers brushing
Pink lemonade stratosphere,
Pallid moon mirroring
A smeared staring sun,
As Fenrir snarls and stretches,
Slinking silently skyward.
I do not mind the feeling of icy water
In the morning on dry, chapped hands,
The scrubbing of bowls and pots with sand
In the pale autumn light.
These are the clean discomforts of life lived,
And sun warmed stones and star soaked nights can make amends
Say amen to the prayers that such days could last forever.
But I am answered never never again.
And there the knife sinks deep
As the past is waked from sleep,
Defiant and pounding its fists in anger
But the leaves of today leave concern from their color,
As bright with me as without they do not dignify my dolor
With pity for the memory
Of what makes one day full and one day empty.
"Fool," they say "All things must die in time,"
And so I stand stripped bare beneath the sky,
Inhaling wood smoke wafting in the wind,
And feel all Nature's life come to an end.
In a world with no mercy
Day after day
Until the end
The day I die
And then maybe
I'll find some peace
A Ball Of CherriesImagine life
like a ball of cherries.
You can't eat many,
Don't rush to eat them!
Some are soft,
Don't go too slow, you'll lose the taste.
I am me. Who are you?I am fragments
of every person
I've met; every
memory made; every
bond formed and tie broken.
I am an orchestra
of people's opinions;
each snide comment
each casual remark
each passing compliment
I am a library
of forgotten lies
and fake smiles
and empty promises.
I am a sky of hope;
filled with stars
which carry the wishes
of the people I have encountered
I am never alone
for their influence will forever
taint my soul and
remind me of their hopes,
dreams and pain.
This is who I am.
Who are you?
storiesi begin and end with stories
where hummingbird hearts play sonatas
against my ribs and i drown in
early morning light and
the girl in me sinks into the sea
like rusting anchors chained to
ships and i sway port and starboard
the lion in me rises like lazarus
from the savannah where dust swirls
and i begin and end with stories
where i swallow the world and all
the rain and girls and lions in it
where i hold it up like atlas,
where i support jupiter with just
an index finger and where i chase
comets and cup them like fireflies
to hang on my bedroom walls
Blooming Through CrevicesBlooming Through Crevices
People are characters;
their personalities are not to be cracked,
but to bloom.
Codes and signals
Setting our sights
On how to see
Through the cipher.
Optics opting for options
As opposed to conscious.
Ardor replaced by harder
To break through exteriors.
But mortality is only one facet
Of the entirety of humanity.
It is a compass of one being,
But merely a piece of the puzzle
That makes up human composition.
let us not break through empathy
with deductive methodology
but rather with the rhythm
of a honeybee whistling along the hymn
of the wind whispering in the leaves.
humanistic, holistic ideologies
is what the standard can be.
it is the notion of being a metaphor
rather than being something to decipher.
because there are more stars and galaxies
in poetry than there will ever be algebraic
expression curls up with ambiance
under the window pain of a picture frame
because we write more about
on remembering to breathe:i.
you can't hold it in for forever.
your lungs weren't
made to bear the weight
of this world, they weren't made
to left unexpanded
and unexplained -
it is not phenomenon that wakes you
when paralysis hits in the
night, it is physiology telling you that
not everything happens on automatic, okay?
(at least not for always)
you're born like a time bomb, with
only so many beats of
your heart in place to tick away day by day -
your words, they're the same.
there's a time limit
on your tongue, so say something that
means something - use words
that dig in and rip out hearts, use words that
curl around your fingers and worm their
way into your soul.
use words to make something
beautiful. something remembered.
never leave three things
left unsaid because they can be three
words that mean everything -
i'm not telling you to save your breath.
i'm begging you not to waste it.
sing. sing enough to take your breath
away because even though
it leaves you gasping, it fills up that
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More