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SilenceI met her in a dim-lit room. Beside myself,
I was enraptured by her simplicity, and
conquered thoughts left astray long ago by
her grace. She was lovely, draped in a ricochet
of blood pounding through my veins. She held an
eerie familiarity in her thin, bony arms and
grinned a night sky of stars. I watched with awe as
she sat close beside me, so our knees just barely kissed.
Yet we were distant. Both of us: lost, in longing to be
found and worshiped like the gods that molded us in spite.
She held modesty between two elegant fingers
that dusted the surface of my very being. It was, at long
last, kind. I listened eagerly to the melody laced in her
voice, and swayed to the beat. So soft, so merciful.
Yet she fumbled a B flat. Bustling cities and harsh cries
stirred like parasites in the pit of her belly, leaving
gratitude beneath vice. Yet my lady held that night sky
between two pale, white lips. She curved them, humbly, returning
to a forgotten melody. And I, unbeknownst to myself, struc
GratitudeYou asked me how I was today, so I
looked up at the bright blue bars above
me, where the departed - oceans away -
took refuge in frozen time. I answered,
You asked me about the weather as
the clouds wept liquid bullets, who
familiarized themselves with marching soldiers,
and crashed to Earth, forgotten. I answered,
You asked me what was new as lives began and flew
from wombs; as cities burned and good men died;
as rebels saved and saviors lied;
as mothers wept upon the end; as bullets soared
through the sky. I answered,
CircumstanceHe was, through circumstance, a hero.
He knew the corpses of a thousand men,
some as brothers, some as strangers. Each
a new name he bothered not to familiarize himself
with, or a family he dared not meet. He conquered
the unknown, and the unwanted with a modest
handful of bullets; he ranked himself among gods
by his superior's orders, and a loaded AK-47
he received the day he enlisted. I learned
to hail him as a hero through circumstance.
She was, through circumstance, a murderer.
She never knew his corpse,
only the memory of a New York night and
cold, cruel brick walls. She knew a voice
that demanded, hands that took, and a pain
that tore through her in ways she could hardly
fathom. She never knew a name. Only a stranger
who bothered not familiarize himself with her,
and a corpse she dared not think of. She was
conquered by the unknown by a modest threat to
her life; she ranked herself among the damned
by her incapability to prevent it, and the empty
apartment that echoed the pitter-
Zutara Week 2014, Unrequited - A VillanelleThe things she sees at night abed,
Could curdle your bones, clot your blood;
It comes down to a mitten in snow stained red.
She buries it deep inside her head,
No one can know. Smile. SMILE.
The things she sees at night abed.
It weighs her soul like attached lead,
She won’t show it. She – it’s all his fault anyway!
It comes down to a mitten in snow stained red.
It’s all in the things left unsaid,
How he helps out, lifts her burden, but no matter, it won’t ease
the things she sees at night abed.
Then he takes her aside, a chance to strike him dead.
There are protests all around (except from him) – no she can’t forgive, some things are beyond that.
It comes down to a mitten in snow stained red.
The rains stops. Daggers point. And then onwards does she tread.
She hugs him in forgiveness. That night there’s no more to dread.
Gone are the things she saw at night abed.
That came down to a mitten in snow stained red.
We are all sick..Bacteria,
passed over and over,
from lips to lips,
from finger to finger,
from life to death,
and from soul to soul.
small to big,
dangerous to fatal,
and terrifying to adored.
passed from flowers,
and dark caverns unexplored.
traveling through the air,
into the blood,
into the water,
and into the soul.
All passed by us,
traveled through every passage,
and slipping through every gate.
Some would wonder,
what is the meaning of this poem?
Just to list some things that most are already afraid of?
To waste time of us who have lives?
or does it have a deeper meaning,
that we are all just to blind to see?
Well you see,
but the disability to not see how others see.
The disability that poisons the soul,
that weakens us,
and that will kill some of us.
Some people need to understand,
that before you judge,
or ignore something,
that you gotta think about what the other person might b
The RabbitThe Rabbit
Small in stature, yet enormous in heart
The rabbit plays a noble part.
It asks not of others and only seeks to care and tend
The rabbit is the world’s friend.
It cares not for praise and fame
It only seeks for nerves to tame,
For strife to end
For wounds to mend.
But yet it wonders, if others enjoy its air*
But rabbit that isn’t fair,
Of course we enjoy your presence, your poise
Your kind words, your terms bring joy
You needn’t doubt your place among the rest
You may be new, but your one of our best
In this instance air means “it’s being there”
Ruba'i of MichelRuba'i of Michel
Rulers fell since history
Times change and stay the same
I look outside and still I see
But they claim it's in freedom's name
Everyone may be to blame
I head for my room silently
There can be only one thing true
In my privacy I am really free
Nobody can interfere with me
When I tell my honey
I love you
And I do
all I seeshifting sands
cacaphonic self saturation
all I see
relates to me
To My Own Worst Enemy (Writing Prompt)He's knocking on my door again,
He whispers, "You can do that another time."
"Just put it down a minute and then..."
Before I know it, it's a quarter to nine.
I must refuse him, I must --
or else I'll never get anything done.
Before it collects any more dust,
I must force myself to run
To the finish line, and don't give in!
Tell the procrastinator inside, "No way!"
I can finish, I can win!
I will not waste my time -- not today!
A Wicked ShotA thought for thought
Tell me what you’re not
Justify the heart that rots
Fate is the one that loads the gun
While Drama pulls the trigger just for fun
Misconception gets the job done
Betrayal redirects its course
While Euphoria dances on rich remorse
Pandemonium devours the source
Perception tries to ease the pain
But Tension intensifies the strain
And Depression knows it’s all in vain
While the Heart is endlessly pleading
Optimism stops the bleeding
But Assumption begins its feeding
Contentment is the one to infect
While Loyalty attempts to connect
Then Logic becomes the reject
Light begins to fade away
Confusion doesn’t know what to say
With Darkness trying to clear the day
Love has taken its last breath
And Trust has met a lonely death
SheShe is more than a picture,
and She is more than a dream.
Her worth is more than a fling
and Her price costs a ring.
What stricture of kindness
can every Man deem?
That She is to sling
about any who cling?
Why can't She be strong
and full of Her will?
When Her beauty is wrong
She turns to a pill?
Why can't She be proud of all that She is?
and then can She truly be His!
Her AgonyOh my baby, this river can not console you,
there is nothing in this world that can motivate you to feel happiness.
the deepest of beautiful agony has overcome your soul with longing desire
to cry out in despair, for it weighs down heavy on your soul,
you feel nothing on the outside, my girl,
because what you are hiding inside your cove of flesh
is the void of every emotion but one, and it's a force that can't be reckoned with,
There is nothing more you have that can bring you true happiness, you have with you
a genuine true emptiness, that only the creator of the universe can satisfy.
You have lost everything, and the affections that came with everything you lost,
and if you had no God, you would be lost in a drug,
lost in a sexual fantasy of destructiveness,
lost in yourself, and you're sanity wouldn't be able to find you.
You tried to warn those around you, that something inside was dying,
the more they pressed on with you, the more they took you down.
For years you warned of
HonestyShe walks beside a reaper late at night,
Her pleas hung as a noose around his bones:
They paced the willow seemingly alone
But the moon grew brighter in her spite.
The reaper breathes a sooner, heavy sigh
And listened, hallowed, by the woman's shriek
That ricocheted like bullets; their mystique
Dependent on a pleading mother's cry.
Beneath the willow, now, lay two departed
Beside a reaper who'd just barely started
To tear the world from its triumphant lie:
The lie of living honest in the womb
Of gods they knew in faith, but shunned in doom;
And men they killed but never questioned why.
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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