tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57764842011-04-21T19:16:50.185-03:00elegant...and dyingthis dirt is only for you...Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comBlogger411100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-6717129198836936292007-06-17T19:24:00.000-04:002007-06-17T19:25:51.139-04:00(I was going through some old stuff that I kept in a box. I kept it for a reason. I found this poem/song thing I wrong, that I actually really like. I thought I'd post it)the stalls all read my name and number"for a good time call", in markerthis soap and water wont help the shame, againthe wall lists nearly 30 namessomewhat of a sign up pageim a party favour for a twisted gamewho ever thought Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1147741610785604282006-05-15T20:59:00.000-04:002006-05-15T21:06:50.796-04:00but now when I think about the silencesI know you're approaching original ways to say I love you....no no no, me no likey.but now when I think about the silencesI wonder what words are tickling your tongue...that's better. hmm.but now when I think about the silencesI wonder what words are tickling your tongue.in between the moments of hesitation, I dreamabout what you do when you're lying Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1147740361532745272006-05-15T20:35:00.000-04:002006-05-15T20:46:01.546-04:00you stared at me with cupidityyou licked your lips, then you spat at me.you standing there is a crime, you seefor the love of humanity.-------------------------you look at me and fold your ears,words I say just glance and blow.------------------------everything I say float past your hurried charm.as you busy yourself and close your eyesto hands waving and flairs rushing.words glace off your Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1147020277802398492006-05-07T12:42:00.000-04:002006-05-07T12:45:28.446-04:00(I gizoogled my poetry diary and got some pretty good stuff. I lie of course, but it's worth a read. You should gizoogle your stuff.)word space word period. we sloppy sentence structure. used, abused, n double spaced; faded ink, n tattered margins. I've been fight'n against mah papa cuts fo` so long but real niggaz don't give a fuck. I've sucked tha blood clean out of tha tip from tha streets of Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1142299011016172882006-03-13T22:04:00.000-03:002006-03-13T22:16:51.050-03:00(I've been going through some old stuff, since I've got a horrible writers block. I'm pulling stuff from the grave here)__________________the sky is dying, dear.kisses in the closet, explosions in the distanceand I couldn't breathe_________________spin the axis.make it sing.dizzy up the worldand fuck the thing._____________give me metal and I'll write you a song._____________I miss you and you'reBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1136919954039470742006-01-10T16:05:00.000-03:002006-01-10T16:05:54.040-03:00word space word period. we're sloppy sentence structure. used, abused, and double spaced; faded ink, and tattered margins. I've been fighting against my paper cuts for so long. I've sucked the blood clean out of the tip. word space word period. the sweet smell of wet pages, the bitter taste of indian ink, line the baseboards, and every crack thereafter, in between my sheets. you're under my nailsBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1136919909746290242006-01-10T16:04:00.000-03:002006-01-10T16:05:09.746-03:00Cindarella scorned me.She frowned upon my every movetowards shattering her shoes, my hopes and my dreams.Belle thought low of me,and mumbled something about'always a beast and never a prince. 'Perhaps she's rightBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1136919863801421532006-01-10T16:03:00.000-03:002006-01-10T16:04:23.800-03:00magnetic poetryshe will hesitate sympatheticallyeven transfix commercial breathbe seemingly preparedsick with surprise you charm strangely and not onlyan apprehensive boastthat fantastic glow he readcan slowly brew insanityBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1136919770974007712006-01-10T16:01:00.000-03:002006-01-10T16:02:50.976-03:00open minds and closed hearts on rolled sleeves your up for trying anything except working through things so, with eyes wide shut, you walk away alone from all that could have been mirrored faces and echoed voices haunt your every step and glide even if you wish it all away, it stares you back in the jugular so drown your sorrows with a fifth of gin (but sorrow learns to swim) and try all drugs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1075394349854815232004-01-29T13:39:00.000-03:002004-01-29T13:40:44.610-03:00I found poems I stashed away that are actually quite good. ooh:
"friendly fire" - march 17th, 2003
It's 4am and this attic's cold,
a box of pictures lay scattered and
I've cut the faces out,
they're staring back at me.
There's blood on the walls and
blood on the carpet and
I'm sitting in the middle of it all,
with your face in my hands.
"It's just a friendly fire", you said
but youre bleeding Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1073198660137969142004-01-04T03:44:00.000-03:002004-01-04T03:45:29.700-03:00it's two thirty, worse than nights before.
I stay up at night longer, my woken hours are shorter
in this disgusting stupor I lay awake and stare at these four walls
wishing I was someone,
somewhere
else.
I'm so tired of being here.
---------------------------------------------
and when I leaned over to kiss you, I knew at that moment
that everything we ever had was bound to change
because I was Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1073197490951472492004-01-04T03:24:00.000-03:002004-01-04T03:26:00.686-03:00here it is at two A-M.
another night of sitting on my heels
with candle light at my finger tips
and resting. so idle.
things feel so different now,
the air has a different texture and so does my skin.
evern your voice has a different ring,
as you bury those promises,
loves notes,
and sweetest moments under your bed
and away from the new year.
I've still got you kiss burning on my cheekBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1070481388992572542003-12-03T16:55:00.000-03:002003-12-03T16:57:07.170-03:00with both hands, I snap
a pen used for very little
but the little it has done
is far more monumental
than anything I have.Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1069565173644537262003-11-23T02:25:00.000-03:002003-11-23T02:26:41.700-03:00I haven't thought about you in a long while, you know.
At least not in that way.
I thought about giving up on you, because all it did
was tear be down from my high stance.
but lately,
as in the past twenty four hours lately,
I can't get you off of my mind.
something is changing in the atmosphere
and I want you to be here to calm it.Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1069565009978236062003-11-23T02:20:00.000-03:002003-11-23T02:23:58.060-03:00it's been a year and a half
since the last time it was there, and
suddenly it shows up again.
perhaps it was just a hallucination,
perhaps it was your guilty concious clawing at the walls,
perhaps it was the fact that I now ignore you
whatever the reason,
I dont believe it was ever there at all
I think you just missed seeing it.Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1069201534088507952003-11-18T21:24:00.000-03:002003-11-18T21:25:58.123-03:00I want a pill that makes me numb
I've got two to stop the blood,
Six to make me sleep,
and 2, twice a day, to make me smile.
where's the one that encompasses it all
entitled "I dont give a fuck"Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1068951558740783972003-11-15T23:55:00.000-03:002003-11-15T23:59:39.403-03:00I dislike this eeiry silence
the wave of ackwardness
each of us choose our words with the highest skill
it's gotten so weird now.
I want to wrap you in bubble wrap
protect you from the world and harsh reality,
I want to tuck you under fleece and cellophane,
to sheild you from this winter.
I want to say my words with ease, and
make you smile with every one
...and make this disembodied emotion turnBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1068240508607496532003-11-07T18:26:00.000-03:002003-11-07T18:28:26.616-03:00its nights like these, when the air smells like wood, and the sky is dark before it hits five;
that you sit here, like a bump on a log, writing silly little poems, with little to no meaning.
and it's hours like these, that go by so slow, with nothing to do, writhing in darkness
that I'd give up my life, to lift up that phone, and hear your soft voice- on the other end.
but alas,
its nights likeBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1068240344592757352003-11-07T18:24:00.000-03:002003-11-07T18:25:42.633-03:00when I wake up in the middle of the night,
completely kill my senses with a couple of sleeping pills,
only to wake up an hour later and decide just to stay up-
I know you're still asleep.
and i'd do anything just to watch.Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1068239992101834722003-11-07T18:07:00.000-03:002003-11-07T18:19:50.186-03:00I've taken time out of my busy schedual
of falling asleep in class
failing any test that approaches me,
and saying I love you to someone else,
in order to write you a giant metaphor.
but then I remember, I gave up on you,
because you've given up on me
and given up on everything we once had,
and you pretend you don't remember the nights when it rained;
....the days it was dark;
....the weeks Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1068239223694614342003-11-07T18:04:00.000-03:002003-11-07T18:07:01.913-03:00its only when you walk down the hall,
with your confident stride
that may- or may not- actually be confident
that my eyes ever let go of their focus
on my hands.
and its not until you turn the corner
that there gaze ever returns
to their previous position
has anyone ever told you you're captivating?Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1068239054347934962003-11-07T18:02:00.000-03:002003-11-07T18:04:12.590-03:00i was reading through
books upon books upon binders of poetry
and it came to my attention
how very different everyone writes, yet
at the same time, they all have everything in common.
that's when I realized I have nothing in common.
that's when I closed the books;
and threw out the binder.Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1068238826542313082003-11-07T17:56:00.000-03:002003-11-07T18:00:24.840-03:00this is where I give up
and go back on my word,
and trace over steps in discomforting circles
and this is where we say our goodbyes
to touch the rumors in the wind,
and tuck them into our minds.Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1067054141854503632003-10-25T00:33:00.000-03:002003-10-25T01:04:02.733-03:00I know how you feel, it's been imbedded in my mind like a thousand little thorns and I can't lie. Im disappointed- actually, somewhere far beyond it. Deep in a little valley away from the peaks and ridges of the high-life, and the highlights, but that's okay 'cause I've got more too prove and it's bound to take time.
and the moon hangs low on nights like these;
when i put my own fires aside
Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1067052783774157862003-10-25T00:31:00.000-03:002003-10-25T00:33:03.303-03:00ahhh, polly. why is it when there's something I can't put into words, and say so gracefully, you always do?
-excerp from Polly's latest poem:
"I'm sick of fighting for you.
I just want to hold you
in rhetorical possitions
and kiss you kisses you can't ever take back.
I just want to lay next to you
and help you to forget
the years you spent
behind those brown eyes
afraid to say a word
to Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1067051859751138812003-10-25T00:15:00.000-03:002003-10-25T00:17:39.503-03:00when ever it is that
I work up the courage that lies
outside of my nervous bounds,
to turn around and say hello...
you're turned and walking away.
and in my selfish attempt to bring you closer,
I've already pushed you away.
one of these days I'll do it right.
Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1067051700547104472003-10-25T00:06:00.000-03:002003-10-25T00:30:48.930-03:00My mouth moves and words come out, propelled perhaps
you've watched my moves,
imagine my fears,
identified and exploited my fatal weaknesses
suspiciously similar
to the other moves of God
theres difference in similarity and similarity
in our difference
and I applaud you
for your victory
caught in the chaos that is samsara,
there's demons on wing,
enchanting the mind with visions of Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1066305275008018902003-10-16T08:46:00.000-03:002003-10-16T08:54:34.370-03:00the wind shreads the trees,
until they come crashing through the windows
and running down my walls.
I'm alone in the waves of the rain up and down my panes,
streaming through the glass,
pooling on the hardwood in oceans, and
I'm alone on my patio.
I'm supported on the wind.
Im breathing in the excitement, and choking on the silence.
laying still in the silence,
barely dreaming in the silence...
Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1063830943298128402003-09-17T17:24:00.000-03:002003-09-17T17:35:43.116-03:00I tried to write in one
non-stop continous flow
with little to no interruption
from others or myself
and didn't suceed by any means.
instead, I've sat her for near an hour
stairing pell-mell at the screen
blinking haphazardly,
I can still feel etchings on my skin,
that resemble the path your fingers traced.
It writhes through my blood,
I can feel it on the inside.
Several showers later,
I Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1063751756575234972003-09-16T19:25:00.000-03:002003-09-16T19:35:56.356-03:00you bowed as I passed you,
I smiled just to thank you,
you smiled as well but you could certainly tell
there was something else behind it.
and as I pardoned my way through,
you're hands would graze both my arms,
almost to say
stay here.
i kept walking,
your fingertips left patterns on my skin
that I can feel in my bones,
and through my blood...
why couldn't I stop,
why didn't I stop.Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1063543587735361242003-09-14T09:44:00.000-03:002003-09-14T09:46:27.653-03:00you're an arms length away,
and Ive finally held my breath...
I'd give my life and others; to move my fingertips closer.
I spend nearly every moment with you
day in day out I see you
week in week out I touch you
yet I still get butterflies passing you in the hall
but you dont know...
these words like sand.
--where the fuck am I going with this?Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1063139992954461272003-09-09T17:39:00.001-03:002003-09-09T17:39:52.996-03:00"It's been raining so long," she said
"even the stars are wet."
she turned off the headlights
and used her cigarette to guide her.
burning bright against the midnight hour.
(breathed and stop)
every joke had a cough for a punchline
but she just dropped her dark brown eyes
and watched the highway float past.
the rain hit hard against the winshild.
those little dancing silver bullets,
Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1063139965442601702003-09-09T17:39:00.000-03:002003-09-09T17:39:25.480-03:00"this", you said
"is beauty".
you took my hand in yours
with disney slow motion and near romance
then traced a star
on my palm with the knife you pulled
from your back pocket.
and with a sudden deathwish,
you placed my hands upon you
and allowed the knife to chase
my fingers path
as I traced the same star
across your wrists
only you pressed a little harder,
"this" you said,
"is Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1062981564907060882003-09-07T21:39:00.000-03:002003-09-07T21:39:24.883-03:00there's a crusifix between my fingertips
which doesn't do any good, but
concieveably
holds the key to my demise...
as they walk along the walls.
but on my fingertips are marks
that, to the best of my knowledge,
weren't there the last time I used them
I suppose I should use them more often
in the middle of the night, I kick my covers off the bed
because I never use them
and it's not until Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1062887823618819422003-09-06T18:37:00.000-04:002003-09-06T18:37:03.660-04:00the icing on the cake is
that you really could care less
about me,
and that you wont,
no matter how many times you're told to
if you're really listening, you may,
the reason's hidden beneath the floor boards
around the corner
and in the nick of time
I want to taste you
but somewhere in this darkness that's taboo
and I can feel you, your hands on me
flesh on flesh
adoring on apreciation
and myBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1062886812468906882003-09-06T18:20:00.000-04:002003-09-06T18:20:12.506-04:00he will bruise a
secret skin
and you teach him
to burn red
the dark asks
about these wild
evenings
_______________________
I tell you,
these bruises
are only his songs
slicing through
my skin
and ask you to
leave it a secret
_________________________
a minute away
from red skin
and
burning tongues...
this dirt is only
for him
______________________
skin tells him
the secrets
my tongue
Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1062886752532693262003-09-06T18:19:00.000-04:002003-09-06T18:19:12.573-04:00you are empty sex
and electric blue latex
you waste her at every scream
and deeply break
a passion made only for fashion
I write about our expirements
as if they were art
and I imagine you,
a masterpiece
your kisses touch like blood
and whisper naked promises
that sleep forever
porcelain decay and dirt
the kind that brilliantly
kills
a glass heart
the night you explore
and growl
in secret
Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1062886712284048812003-09-06T18:18:00.001-04:002003-09-06T18:18:32.380-04:00shh.
I want to whisper
and tell your lips a secret
as you're looking down at me I want
to come clean and leave all this dirt behind.
I don't hear your voice nearly often enough
unless it's repeated on this radio, it's
cold as rust and not much
company; a broken
lullaby to welcome
sleep.
and I dont see you,
unless it's in my dreams
these days'll go on like sundays
this religion's Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1062886680055160352003-09-06T18:18:00.000-04:002003-09-06T18:18:00.093-04:00you're black
(and blue, and Im seeing red)
Even over the phone
I could feel you cast
your dark eyes to the ground
and stumble your breath
as if it tripped over words.
I twirled the phone chord,
and hoped it would help
because
loving you is like loving the dead Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1062886635864945982003-09-06T18:17:00.000-04:002003-09-06T18:17:15.900-04:00you hallucinate
dirty shadows on the wall that I cant see
they'll strangle you and
I just stand by watching you suffocate.
I've no other way to cope, I've no other way to chase the demons away.
my anger subsided to pitiful lines.
I trace them behind your back
and they blur
in and out of the scenery.
every one of your smiles is just good politics,
your entire life is measured
on how well you Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5776484.post-1062884927203224332003-09-06T17:48:00.000-04:002003-09-06T17:48:47.310-04:00somewhere in the back of my mind
I remember when you would stare at me and somehow pierce
through my thickend skull with
what I thought were your eyes.
I remember I was wrong.
and underneath those little pearls, bloodvessles and nerves
there was something foriegn,
dangerous
obtuse
and in between the nausea and the fear
in the space between a blink and a tear
I fell in love
and I fell in lineBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01703930926594746734noreply@blogger.com