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[x]
wanderlusti was all sex and stitches
with every color on a TV screen;

(and between me and you)
your teeth, your tongue,
your ferret-hands and knowledgeable mind--
they scared me.

the foreign worlds beneath your skin:
the contortions of your spine and
organs;

you wanted to conquer; to claim
and plant a flag--

and i--i wanted cancer
no one is ever going to want memaybe once
this would've been
poetic
but i'm crying &
there's nothing
pretty
or wonderful
here

i think
my face is scrunched
like a red rag
in the sink
slumped beneath a leaky
faucet &
my hands are shaking

maybe i could make
it
sound nice--
high
buzzed
lustful
but what i have
you won't like

memories
and do you want them too?
stealing & paying
pressing bottles and
pictures to my sternum
the heat
the cold

maybe it's the silence
that hurts
the stumbling
the tumult of words down
the sink and
across the floor
the empty heads
&

i was pretty then
bird-legs and stilted poems
so nice
numbering stars and
crushing books between
my teet
Wake up now, my dear old friendWake up now, my dear old friend,
Your daily sleep has reached its end.
Embrace your worldly cares once more
And take one step outside your door;
You’ll find there, waiting for you still,
The tasks and deeds you’ve to fulfill
So do not waste another ray,
Get up, get up and start your day.
You’ll have your sleep again tonight
And when you do, you will sleep tight
But until such times are near,
Get up, wake up, today is here.
the long way hometoday i threw half my
fridge away
and waited for 25'000
to starve

people like you
jump off roofs and
stick their heads
in ovens

smile-face stickers
don't frown
(even when you put them
wrong-side-up)

life's already hard enough
without trying to
find
what all your curtains
mean

i am guilty
of forgetting about
my tea
the kettle boils
like my head on a pillow

you will never
see them again
or the fears that wonder
about you
lilith's childthe grass in eden is
trampled

& never grows

he is a stranger
to the wet warm seasons
& jackal nights

she is an animal
bitten
& sucking the venom

Yours, my love
You are the light that still shines on me
FOr you I will pine eternally
YoU were the one who did set me free
YouR love will always my comfort be
RoseS smell sweetest, my fragrant plea

          M
         Y

SouL unto soul and heart unto heart
FoOlish is one who would tear this apart
EVery love has hardhips right from the start
Eternity's for those who choose ne'er to part  
UntitledSomewhere in the forest
A wolf cries to the moon
So I begin to ponder
Alone here in my room
As to what the wolf is after
When it calls out to the moon
I think I thought of something
But I fell asleep too soon.
Only OwlsYou were afraid of crows and dark basements
But you loved me, a crow who lived in the basement
You grew me into something beautiful before you flew

I am black again now, withered, wanting, waiting
But I remember being a butterfly
give me my shadow, put on my crown.i.
I knew you well enough
to know your birthday
and middle name
[even the shampoo you wore
on my pillow that really needs to be cleaned anways.]

Your bow-arms and thin shoulders;
pretences always daring me to
look away.

A symphony of laughing bones;
a thousand "what if's"
without their "nevers"
and a silly pet name that gave you blond hair.

ii.

What could you ever know
about those little secrets
and apples in your eyes?

Nothing.
Nothing.

No mirrors;
until you sat with your hands
grabbing cold-shell ears--
over and over and over
until you believed

That if I did--I would remember
because it didn't happen of course;
no never, never.

N
you make me write bad poetryi made you up
from pillows and comforters
and anything that stuck
its tongue out from
my drawers

and slept in

next year i will shy away
like a child
when you touch me--
which
if you know me
(and you probably do)
seems very in-character
anyways--

but it's not like what
happened in the bookstore when
you
put your teeth against my ear
and everything felt
like it did last week
in the treehouse
except
backwards

it all seems so out of
context
like i am a little girl again
playing house
and pretending i know what those
funny words that taste
like soap and dirt
mean
and what we are
hungry ghostsswallowing the morning glow and
quiet pills:
fawn-eyed and rabbit-eared to
watch the warmth of limbo
touch the
city

going down down down
to where nothing alive
can see
the palls of grey hanging
from streetlights

and i try to find a metaphor

1. (hide your eyes from
penny candy and laughter--
white caravans and
dirt)
2. something less complex than nonsense;
simpler than art and noble habits
purging in the alleyways all the
virgin snow and eyelights
3. maybe it was meant to be this way:
the cold wakes the neighbors
as fate meets destiny to conspire
a way out

a religion
a brothel
a murder that wasn't meant to complete
me or the mani
ExhaustionTired doesn't cut it
Sleep don't describe
Watch the clock
And wait for the end.

Don't start sweating,
The work's only begun,
Unfortunately for you,
Time stops for no one~.

So pick up your axe
And keep chopping away
The tree won't go
Until your arms fall and sway.

Trod through the heat
Thinking your benign thoughts
Watch me watch you
Tumbling down the hill.

For now we're rambling
It doesn't matter today
Let's be honest with each other
Exhaustion's just a play.
DepartureA hapless loser;
a lionhearted wallflower, if you will.

Browbeaten, sheepishly slipping through the curtains on the window.
Intimidated by the high-pitched noise you hear when there is no other sound in the night.
Bellowing out like a soldier stuck in his trenches.
I am heard, as I impinge your eardrums,
yet you're as steady as a statue during a windstorm.

My mother always told me that I was a well balanced child;
I had a chip off both of my shoulders.
One day the gulls will swarm down and make a nest of our bones
and you will still be as level headed then as you are now.

So go my friend, I bid you adieu.
Cast off your anchors, and feel t
CurlsI       brushed my hair     this
morning       like always three
heart-attack strokes   jerking
strands    into place   trekked
to school after and   dreamed
through    class     nightmares
all shot       through with gaps
like this   poem       which you
thought had       a point but is
too   sick stuffed  with     holy
to be worth anything  at    all.
Thinking of Youmy virginity was
sacred

the holiest of altars
with a hundred religions'
blessing

my father's gun
a sentiel
to a breathing temple

so i took it myself

a prayer so long
forgotten
& innocence taken by the
right hand of god
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More from ~tubefed

i can make you love mewriters,
what thoughts
do you bend in
these cathedral-ribs
shaking with leaves?
(self-conscious,
headache)
 
shopping neon
for
a sinner's devotion
or that boy
in the other aisle
 
(i hold your books
and stroke the pages,
suddenly frightened)
 
'excuse me'
they haven't arrived:
(that was forty-five
minutes ago)
 
blushing and
hoping no one notices
that i've read this
before
as i watch him
slip behind the counter
 
(i devised a plan to
volunteer on fridays
and trap him)
 
as i read
sentence three
for the fifteenth
time
because i have toimpaled
& wreaking havoc on these
young bones

more than endorphins &
planes out of control

pretending that if
not-so-masochistically

i--

p

   a

       r

        a

       l

      y

    z

   e

 d:

a manifestation
instilled in bedsheets
& ghosts
i'm not an artistwe do not belong in boxes
and bags and books or
words,
and we do not sit contently
in wordsworth and shakespeare
and blake, burns, and brownings
or in the cold stiff bones
of raleigh's of long ago;

no--

we infect,
detect, and re-select
a virus--a disease,
a germ in every verse and line;
the first signs of
foolish waitings under
bridges and scolding parents
and melodrama
and nothing to signify at all

yet--

we are the blood of nations
and the heart of men
and the love of every
rhetorist and sentimist
to come;
we dance through the ballrooms of
the age and chat with
higher minds
we shake hands with heros
and the homeless, dirty
type
the long way hometoday i threw half my
fridge away
and waited for 25'000
to starve

people like you
jump off roofs and
stick their heads
in ovens

smile-face stickers
don't frown
(even when you put them
wrong-side-up)

life's already hard enough
without trying to
find
what all your curtains
mean

i am guilty
of forgetting about
my tea
the kettle boils
like my head on a pillow

you will never
see them again
or the fears that wonder
about you
no one is ever going to want memaybe once
this would've been
poetic
but i'm crying &
there's nothing
pretty
or wonderful
here

i think
my face is scrunched
like a red rag
in the sink
slumped beneath a leaky
faucet &
my hands are shaking

maybe i could make
it
sound nice--
high
buzzed
lustful
but what i have
you won't like

memories
and do you want them too?
stealing & paying
pressing bottles and
pictures to my sternum
the heat
the cold

maybe it's the silence
that hurts
the stumbling
the tumult of words down
the sink and
across the floor
the empty heads
&

i was pretty then
bird-legs and stilted poems
so nice
numbering stars and
crushing books between
my teet
hungry ghostsswallowing the morning glow and
quiet pills:
fawn-eyed and rabbit-eared to
watch the warmth of limbo
touch the
city

going down down down
to where nothing alive
can see
the palls of grey hanging
from streetlights

and i try to find a metaphor

1. (hide your eyes from
penny candy and laughter--
white caravans and
dirt)
2. something less complex than nonsense;
simpler than art and noble habits
purging in the alleyways all the
virgin snow and eyelights
3. maybe it was meant to be this way:
the cold wakes the neighbors
as fate meets destiny to conspire
a way out

a religion
a brothel
a murder that wasn't meant to complete
me or the mani

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February 10
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[x]

it only lasts a little while

:icontubefed:

at the bottom
there is
love
little hands
dissolving themselves

in the desperate
sunlight & waves
cut by ships
and continents

open
suspended
trembling as the water
passes through

hollow bodies restless
& agile
waiting for the sun
:icontubefed:
For Valentine's Day. Wee little phytoplankton lovers. :heart: Something sweet.

I'm a little unsure of the stanzas. They don't break up the poem as I wish--I mean, I could add comas to indicate breaks (i.e. after "love" in the first stanza) but I don't know...
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:iconbloodawni:
*bloodawni Feb 17, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Stunning. Congratulations on the DLD!
Reply
:icontubefed:
~tubefed Feb 17, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
:D Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! ^^
Reply
:iconbloodawni:
*bloodawni Feb 17, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome. :)
Reply
:icondailylitdeviations:
=DailyLitDeviations Feb 13, 2013
Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by =DailyLitDeviations in a news article that can be found here: [link]

Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by :+fav:ing the News Article. Keep writing and keep creating.
Reply
:icontubefed:
~tubefed Feb 14, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
A DLD!? :D Wow! That's wonderful. Thank you so much. :)
Reply
:icontwilightpoetess:
=TwilightPoetess Feb 13, 2013
Hello!

As part of =SilverInkblot's Found Poetry Project, I used the title of this beautiful deviation in a poem here:

Breaking Burdens

Thank you so much! :heart:
Reply
:icontubefed:
~tubefed Feb 14, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I'm honored! Thank you so much! :heart:
Reply
:icontwilightpoetess:
=TwilightPoetess Feb 14, 2013
You're welcome!
Reply
:icontotallyuncreativeme:
Mood: dA Love ~TotallyUncreativeMe Feb 11, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I love this! nothing wrong with using stanzas for pauses/breaks - in fact i think it's really stylish and one of my favourite things about this poem. :)
Reply
:icontubefed:
~tubefed Feb 11, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
:D Really!? Well, that's reassuring--as I stated before, I was bit worried about that.
Reply
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