[x]

Blossom"Blossom"

Beyond the cherry oaks and evergreen backwoods
Past the landscapes of emerald trees and creeks of water
On top of a hill surrounded by mud and soil
Lies an innocent flower as delicate and quiet as the wind

I planted this flower from the seedlings in my garden
Carefully cultivating this flower to reflect the beauty of nature
But I soon knew my flower outgrew its surroundings
This particular flower needed ample room to grow

At first the roots resisted, I had to tug to set them free
Scared of the storms and fires that could potentially be
The unknown wilderness is a scary place I must admit
Regardless my garden was not a comfortable

I'm SickAs I sit in darkness I feel its cold breath within me, burning my insides with its icy fire.
It’s not warm like a flame should be. It’s a contradiction. It’s unnatural. It makes me
nervous. It hurts. I trail shaky fingers over my bruised skin—it wants out again.

Unnatural. But really, what is natural? What is the definition of something one might
consider normal? It most certainly cannot be this beast within me. I cannot decipher now
between it and I. We are one yet we are two. Two that sometimes is one and one that
sometimes is two. One. Two. Two. One.

Rage. It’s always there but now it burns cold in the

Sea SaltI walked along the bracket of the beach with a pocketful of salt that the sea no longer wanted. I had originally intended on returning it (one day), I didn't mean to keep it. Technically, because it wasn't mine, I stole that salt. I sifted the crystals out of the water and rolled them between my fingers until they were eroded smooth by the ridges in my fingerprint. Fingerprints embedded in the evidence. Salt embedded in my identity.

They never caught me. I was never reprimanded for stealing from the earth. I should have been. I should have been.

The Bone CollectorSometimes my breath catches in my throat
and the very stillness of an earth going
a thousand and three miles per hour
gets lodged there.

Sometimes these simple exchanges
leave me breathless, croaking on dust:
the unfiltered pigments of other people's skin
and blood and ash

but with my tarred lungs and itchy eyes
I sit and sift through charcoaled remains,
alphabetising them from c to c. I am lost
in a world charred brazen.

Many things I have loved have turned to ash.
Many people. I was naive enough to think
that there was some perfect nutritional truth
that could outlast hell-fire.

I claw through a world turned ashen
and know those dead

The WallI punched the wall.

The paper broke, a split lipped frown.
That was the thin veneer of joy you painted over my cracks with.

I punched the wall.

The paper bloomed into a paprika tulip.
That was the rusting screw in your jaw swinging off its hinge with your lies.

I punched the wall.

The paint broke into a smile
and I chipped out its teeth. They were the over polished hopes of our future.

I punched the wall.

The plaster spluttered out a storm.
Smooth and sleepy; I scratched at its eyes for promising to look out for me.

I punched the wall.

The plaster coughed hard again.
My anger was a consumption and its tendrils spasmed out from the s

Thy lips are warmOf all the words that mouth at love
and soften it with tongue and tooth
None will ever justify this breakage.
Never will there be diction enough
To make a heart salve, or tears unwept.

There will never be a word of woe
That suits to the shape of the thing.
Though many mouths may speak
of love and all her many expressions
airs, graces and confabulations.

None will correlate the meaning truly
how I loved for him, and he not for me.

Star-writHear me read it!

It is nebulonic fate that we should dance
together in this burning bald ballroom
as the flames lick up the sepiatic walls
and drip curled paper down upon us.

It is our right to spin each other here
in the torrentous reign of flames and ash
as the chandelier, already hanging,
spits and sparks at us, trying to take us too;

and as everything we ever loved or cherished
in porcelain veneer or hand-crafted sycamore
crumbles to a close, still the thought remains-
that it is our star-writ fate to dance on.

The SirenI approached the swelling tides and as I neared the black waters they came to a quiet stillness.
My clothing evaporated into a fading vapor and unveiled pale skin afore the instant my bare
toes met with the warmth of the sea’s kiss. I walked deeper into the soothing embrace and
felt the flesh of legs and feet give way to ebony scale and fin. I let my eyes fall to a close and
lowered my head beneath the moonlit surface, parting my lips to a silken caress. I calmly
breathed in the soft flow and opened silver eyes to sunken depths.

And it was in that moment that silence was broken by haunting song.

Hall Of Mirrors"Hall Of Mirrors"

I was once thrown into a hall of mirrors
Surrounding me on every side
I was forced to look deep into my soul
For I had not a place to hide

Every mirror reflected someone different
Some versions were fat or thin
Each version had different color eyes
But none revealed the person within

Some versions were short or tall
Some had me in a tie and suit
Some had me in a summertime shirt
But none revealed the person I knew

Every mirror showed different contrast
And different objects floating in space
Some reflections were lighter than others
But none helped reflect my own face

So finally down on hands and knees
I asked desperat

HAIKUWRIMOCOMPLETE 2013

February 28th, 2013

Dire desperation
A feeble whimper for help;
roar of these raw times.

February 27th, 2013

Gluttonous ash cloud
sucks the moon's blood
and swallows the night.

February 26th, 2013

Bark! An explosion!
Angry bodies escape the
network of lung cells.

February 25th, 2013

Silently cloning,
multiplying, honing in,
determined to kill.

February 24th, 2013

Tea and sympathy
readily available
for my dear sister.

February 23rd, 2013

I will hold my breath
as the north wind does the same
waiting for your love.

February 22nd, 2013

He hovers behind;
Hamletian apparition.
Always following.

February 21st, 2013

A lo

United, We WriteHear me read it

0hgravity, if by some divine fortune you should decide that today is the day you will fail me, then let me soar through the ChemicalSkyline. Grant me a-lovely-anxiety that raises a storm InTheStarryNightSky for me to riseandbe above all else. Let me soar.

How I long to be the frail rider-on-the-storm and not a victim of the RoamingShadow, Rogue-Of-The-Night, that BlackVelvetNightmare of my nights and days. I long for awaytobefree, won't you grant it to me?

I desire to be great, to feel greatness, to be more than one of many Sad-Writers spinning Sacred-Literature into SanguineEpitaph after saturninesweetness. scarletwave of

MatterIt is only a matter of time
until the stone lays down with the sheep
and sleeps.
Rested firmly above the holes
where our eyes used to be.

It is only a matter of matter
until epitaph and eulogy diminish to dust
and sleep
becomes the eternal home,
not where our souls used to be.

It is only a matter of fact
that our words will become reductionist, redundant,
and sleepily
the world will forget
where our words used to be.

Browse More Like This

Download Image
PNG, 1000×1238 more ▶

More from *S0ullessly

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

#ThePoetryofDA
DA Poetry Club

#poetry-book

#Live-Love-Write
Literature Lovers

#Writers--club
A group for all writers!

#dA-Literature
Write to live, and live to write

#write-to-live
Literature is Emotions

#Unseen-Writers
For the writers and readers

#LooseLacesPoetry
Poetry Feeds Our Souls

Show all (22)

Details

Submitted: February 15
Image Size: 862 KB
Resolution: 1000×1238

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 36
Favourites: 201 [who?]
Views: 2,056 (0 today)
Downloads: 56 (0 today)

[x]

May I Keep Himby *S0ullessly

Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Visual & Found Poetry

_{My first upload here~

------------------------------

The Texture: If anyone knows who the paper texture belongs to I would seriously like to know so I can give credit where credit is due. I'm not even sure if it's on dA though... My friend let me borrow his portable hard drive and this was a texture he had. He's not sure either. I was iffy on using it but it really just gave the piece what it was missing. I don't claim the texture as my own.

------------------------------

Poem (c) Me
Art (c) Me}