[x]

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

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

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.

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

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.

DangerousMermaids; they seduce you then hold you under
Vampires; will kiss your lifeblood away
Mages, will turn your own mind against you
While trolls will hunt you down if you stay
Run through the woods, don’t stop for nothing
Monsters wait with jaws opened wide
Ignore that pretty elf, who’s probably plotting something dark
For she will torture you once she’s lured you inside
Orcs; will have a craving for your flesh
While dwarves are just prejudiced against your height
Dragons are very skilled when it comes to fire
While faeries will torment you throughout the night
So run little weakling, don’t stop now
The faery realm has go

Seaside HolidayI am content
to stay
a caterpillar

Who says
you have
to change?

What's so great
about being
a butterfly?

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IcarusSplendid in the sun
I failed to see the wax begin to run
As feathers fell like stars into the sea
And roaring waves reached up and swallowed me.

MonsterI do not want to tear you open.
I do not want to drain you dry.
I do not want to suck your marrow.
I do not want to feel you die.

I just need to.

Opening IIClawing at masonry,
Pulling it down
brick by brick
to find the door to Hell.

Go FishPulled out of the deep
To lay gutted in the sun
Gasping and shaking.

Huh?Cracked books
and open hands
point the way
to martyrdom
waiting to happen,

but somethings are worse than death.
Yes. Somethings are worse than death.

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Semper Fi

by ~VetchVespers, Jun 30, 2009, 7:55:04 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I've painted you quite roughly dear

                But never fear

                I'm here to clarify

                So help me die

                A little longer

                Live a little stronger

                Sweet semper fi



                You know it’s such dessert

                Such pleasure when you hurt.

                You're S & M

                You little gem

                Upon your whim

                I'll struggle blindly

                Untie the nots

                While shooting shots

                Of wretched carpe diem

                I’ll find the way

                To drink the day,

                To be your prey,

                To let you play

                Upon me dear,

                A tool for truth

                To cut your tooth

                And hang your nails upon



               Sharpened, honed

               With blood and bone

               Carved upon and set in stone

               A guidepost standing crucified

               Until you give me leave to die.

Semper Fiby ~VetchVespers

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

This is my 2nd submission for the Magical Muse Contest, entered of course, by the skin of my teeth. [link]

VetchVespers is a PROCRASTINATOR.

This poem refers in its first line to ANOTHER poem I wrote to my muse, just 'cause sometimes I do that kind of thing

. Unfortunately, I could not enter that one in the contest, as it was not written FOR the contest.

I'll post the link to it when my DA page isn't being RETARDED, which it is right now, but you can find it if you really care. It's called "Muse." Craaaaaaaazy.....

Ed: Aha! [link] There ya go.

~VetchVespers Jul 2, 2009 Student General Artist

Sado masochistic? The idea that there is a pleasure in understanding the truth, even when it brings pain. The muse causes anguish, but gives truth, and thereby ecstasy.

You're comment about the Latin is a VERY good point. And one I had not thought of, blast it. I'm not sure if I can change it though. I'll have to look into it. See if I can work it in without being clunky. Thanks.

I think it's interesting. I wrote two poems for the Muse contest. This one, and one that's much more light and fluffy. I think this one's a hell of a lot better, but the other got more attention. People don't like that suffering.

~DarkAngelFleck Jul 3, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

Ya, the first think I thought of was BDSM and then I was like, eh Idk, i'd rather just ask. BDSM is great

~VetchVespers Jul 5, 2009 Student General Artist

Asking's a good way to find out.

It is certainly interesting. Do you like the artist Brom?

~DarkAngelFleck Jul 8, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

Not sure if I do, sounds familiar, but can't think of anything.

~VetchVespers Jul 29, 2009 Student General Artist

One of my favorite fantasy artists. He's got a lot copy cats these days. Of course, DA's got some pretty awesome people in its own right.

[link]

~DarkAngelFleck Jul 30, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

Oh I've seen his art before when I was into warhammer lol. I like it alot.

~DarkAngelFleck Jul 2, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

I enjoyed reading this poem. I love how you tie the two verses up with SImper fi, then carpe diem. S & M? wasn't too sure what you were aiming at with that, might just be oblivious. When you ended the third stanza with upon, it kind of threw me off. I was getting in a mode of expecting latin and a rhyme, but then it was neither. Just distracted me.

~VetchVespers Jul 2, 2009 Student General Artist

Shit.

I'm an idiot. I commented on myself instead of replying to you. See below.

!lordbeazy Jul 1, 2009

Original and unusual, nut not sure I'd wanna meet you in a dark alley! Fun to read.

~VetchVespers Jul 1, 2009 Student General Artist

Aw. And you haven't even seen a picture.

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