[x]

stardust and sun drenchedOn your birthday the sea leaves salt at your doorstep
And a few broken pieces of seashells
That seem to no longer whisper
Their little quirky remarks
Tickling against your attentive ears

You rush across the front porch, trying to chase shadows
Footsteps against the pavements of summer heat
And when you look up at the bruised sky
Of violet against stark cerulean you start to wonder
Why the sun left you without a farewell and
When would it rise again without a 'morning'?

And the world is oblivious to you
They call you names like
'Girl with a rabbit heart'
'A lost child'
And 'little angel façade'

But in the shadows of you

inexistent galaxiesShe's always finding herself wishing on falling stars,
Keeping the queerest things locked away in her heart,
And regarding the homeless as true kings and queens.

She hears their whispers clearer than shouts,
Senses footsteps quicker than earthquakes
She sees fires in the meeting points of dry limbs
And sits without a word at a trembling television screen
Details of her knit scarf, more complex than the universe

It is strange how atoms rotate like planets,
And the galaxy returns to pure dust,
Maybe our galaxies are invisible existences
Our oceans meet at crossroads,
An unconceivable paradox
And our Time is nothing but mere sec

:in between words and worlds:i.

With amorphous regret in my mind and genesis in my notebook I turn the page and there is the hateful etching of your name a hundred times over and over until its engraved on my wrists and under my eyelids, those crimson marks dispersing into atoms when I close my eyes, there is the slight tremble of the summer leaves and the south birds migration, there are the salmons leaping in ocean's tears and mountain's streams and there are cars whizzing by the empty voids between our words and worlds.
To you, words exist in worlds
And to me worlds live in the existence of words
But you'll only frown and turn away, and accuse me of being philos

globe with an empty skydear thunderstorm clouds:
you're just the cold air that sifts through my fingertips
and please, give me my love back
give him back to me
--

last night I felt the beach; the s a n d---;
drifting, falling t h r o u g h my fingers
but they weren't like the clouds, or you
because they did not disappear;
they don't hide
like you always do.

[maybe i'll find you, if i dig deep enough
or maybe I'll just fall into my own hole and suffocate]

our sandcastles and hopes are washing away.

and my dear seagulls:
open your eyes and forget all the whispering seashells and the ocean's invisible dulcet notes
hear these querulous, brusque cars;

scattered words, pretty boy scattered words, you say he's a pretty boy
eyes like vignetted skies that have known all the constellations
and read too many late-night texts
from her

--
hey pretty boy,
i heard you could paint smiles and write poetry all over your arms
because you're afraid that you'll forget; blue and black ink that stain like bruises
every word, every letter is death of another skin cell
but you think it will make her like you

--

Je veux regarder les étoiles avec vous

je t'aime;
comment faire?
tu es belle, tu es belle
[beaux]
what more do you need to say? it's always 'you', it's never me

i want to hear no more

with hands held high. He wakes up and his hummingbird heart skips like a new transformed butterfly fluttering its beautiful wings.

He wants to smile even though he's covered in blood and smells like loss death violence and metal. Fireworks are dancing behind his eyes and out in the battlefield all hell breaks loose, but he's gone somewhere far away. Oh so far away where only magic exists. He wants to laugh, say oh don't worry about me. Oh don't worry, everything is perfectly fine" but no words come from his hoarse throat. When he smiles his dry skin is stretches and rips like leather and his chapped lips are aching.

He remembers his childhood now, he remembers

sans titreYou can write the word 'beautiful' in a millisecond but the truths in your 'iloveyou's will never come true in a million centuries.

Black and white words fade in and out
And your charcoal eyes
Deception is who we are,
Deception is who we make and what we fake.

air that mattershe has dragon tattoos and a staple holding together his tongue.
Storm-grey eyes seeing the world in raindrop transparencies and smoke-clouded faces.

he hears metal and rock in the whisp of the wind and tastes arsenic in every drink, brain clogged with numbness and fuzzy-thought-slippers as the room spins and leaves his heart gasping.
``for air

for more.

and everyone looks the same,
except her, and the ways her emerald eyes move,
because when he glances in the mirror,
he sees only demons, but when he's with her, he can almost make him shine like gold wind in the sun

but the world isn't rainbows and he's chugging alcohol by the tankloa

there was more than silence(There used to be more than just silence)

We had a song once, do you remember?
They classified it as a disorder,
filed between "insanity" and "pitiful little things"
(but we danced to it anyway.

We had a secret language once,
In December, remember
It consisted of three billion characters,
Invented by the instant
By the second forgotten

we passed secret notes
Etched over scattering leaves
On sidewalks we left them to be
carried by the swift wind
Ducking behind bare limbs
and weaving, weaving
their way into frigid doors
left open

you taught me the rarest words of them all,
and then told me that I was
the only and the onl

conjectures.if i had a cloud for a pet i would name it anastasia because it will travel all over the world and absorb the sadness out of everybody. i want the boy next door to smile more often and read more books instead of hesitating whether or not to call that girl. i want that girl to give people a chance because people can be beautiful and i want the stars to stay longer before burning out or being blown out of circuit by the storms from the parents who don't care. i want that cloud to sail quietly into the night and stop at that boy's window to feel his serenity gracing the four walls.
but of all the weathers simmering inside, i want.
want- it's a petty thing, a thing of madness.
turn insanity upside down and i can't scream anymore, can't let alone this fiery chant glowing behind blurry windowpanes,
a woman, bleeding to death in a sealed shower. a sensation of regret, sails through a man's head before the rope denies speech.
because he once spoke of:
a cold sky rheumy at the edges, tumbling o

put the stars to shame
The blazing hot summer sun of August sent me the gift of Blaire. She had these wide eyes that changed from silver to blue at night like deer caught in head lights and chocolate hair like the woods back home.

On a Monday morning of a week passed by too fast, I bumped into her for the first time. She said sorry and asked me if I could fix her bike.
when her bike finally cranked back to place, we both had oil splattered black hands smelling like metal and dirt in our hair, our faces, laughing.

'Blaire' she said, 'I don't know what I would've done without you.'
i chuckled. told her my name. seth.

Then she got on her bike, waved

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elusive

by *ersatz-moon, Jan 19, 2013, 9:16:59 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

1.20.2013.
this game of chess was never designed to be won
because i have spent months trying to define the color of your eyes
is it the color of american expresso or
the forged calm on a pillow of doubt?
or is it the color of keyholes belonging to lonely artisans who dream
of flying a plane one day, crashing into their dreams
to keep days sane
i efface the imagery of your hands spreading out like wings

there was a storm simmering
over the frost covered campfires in my head
today he spins out scrawling verses on the back of his hand
stretching out notsofar enough to reach the telephone line
in between the screams of implausibility
he tries to forget the girl who left him for a skywalk path

so he builds a paper fort to act strong
carries himself in curt footsteps;
never letting his weight kiss the ground for more than a half-second
behind him i echo his chaos while laughing to unfamiliar jest

he once wished to ramble into the night
about the pent-up fear hidden in his coat pockets
after the abstractions and subtractions
the final product at the end of the equation always became
two torn letters and a book with a broken spine
and three words engraved on a guitar pick: i love you
wondering (and wandering) if he was a part of me or growing apart from me
or if we had ever grown together.

tonight you are entranced by
some digression unknown to me
i greet the bland bed
waiting for the return of the light

because i want to mend back together
your half-formed verses into a blanket
and cover your sight with
the genius of your own making

elusiveby *ersatz-moon

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

i have spent days and nights
trying to define you

but you escape me like
the way water does
slipping between the space of two words and slithering
into my thoughts at the most inopportune times
why must i rearrange
the direction of my hair
to match the direction you say the wind blows
tonight a windmill
broke apart
tomorrow a young boy
will feel the world collapse,
until the colors burst and we fall into sleep
again

*Akuard Mar 8, 2013

You taught me a new word, efface. Just an observation of something I thoguht was neat. You use the imagry of "American Espresso" in the first stanza really correlates and ties to the beginning of the second "simmering storm." This is a nice bit of wording, too, "after the abstractions and subtractions | the final product at the end of the equation always became".

Great bit of creative writing. Nice sense of longing.

~eFred Jan 22, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Fantastic.

~fullhousekissrox Jan 20, 2013 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Simply beautiful <3

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