the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shouldersare braille to me, so that ican read your skin, so that ican know you better.i like to listen to your heartbeatand how it resounds differentlyfrom mine, just so beautifullylike two songs played in tandemto harmonise in rounds;i like to hold your handsand rub your backso that maybe my lovecan find its way through your poresand seep into your blood(never can i find the right wordsto tell you just the way you feel to me)and to think that and how i nearly missed youmakes me miss you moreevery minute and mile we spendelsewhere.i can't sleep with another bodyin my bed,but sleeping without youleav
He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.The record needle hits the groove wrong;he stumbles over words that aren’t there,rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.He doesn’t write poetry anymoreand his confusion is strangely endearing.But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,poetic lines inserted between the daily grindof character names and who said what;voiceless boys in white a
PocketLeftover religion in the pocketOf my trenchcoatA key that unlocks nothing A penny, a scrap of paperWith half of your nameWritten in black inkA song that is usually in my headIn the shriveled carcass Of a long-dead dreamIn the pocket Of my trenchcoatWith the lint
SurelyIt was rainingwhen we kissed for the first time,for the last time.Thin rivuletssunk into the shrunken spacebetween our bodiesand divided uslike nothing could before,like everything willfrom nowuntil that never againwhen we willsee each other once more,no more.Your eyes werethat bewitching shadeof dull brown bluewith all of the light darknesswhirlingin a placid pondaround a pupiloverflowing with vacancy,and meand my frowning smile.The winter heatfell like a rising tideand,for our every breathwas another deathso black and full of life --embracing our boiled ice skinas we drew apart,came together and broke free
Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,their dreams condemned to ashes,and our restless bodies stretch,for forgiveness, for direction –survivors of the abyss, amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –so many dead, so many maimed,how many graves are we standing on, today?
Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breatheThis steel cloud day that swirlsWith heat and pounding hammersI shake in my boots and cough upBlood, rust and damaged fleshWaiting for the second comingMaybe next time around there'll be Some chance for more than thisA twisted barbed wire halo Wrapped tight around my skullBlinding white light auraSwarming with flies I'm flyingTo pieces, thousands of shardsCannot be brought back togetherBut I will remember the summerOf my first Chevrolet in each bitGleaming bits of glass in the desertEach reflecting a different moment Still, now, enduring until the wavesOf a new ocean sweep them away No pain
SisterSisterA sister is like a soul mate;Someone who is always thereto guide me through fate.A sister is,a part of childhood that I cannot erase;A sister like you,is one that I would never replacebecause you always know how toput a smile on my face.I know I can depend on youto always be there for me;This is one hundred percent guaranteed!I've had great memories with youin the past;and I hope there are many more to come,in the future.
Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,you'd be wrapped in the sweetestperfumes (learning how to engulf the ocean with your lungs and think of how to cup it in your hands despite your broken prayers and still be beautiful)dance with the gypsies'till noon (a quake in your hips like the thrust of continents and the faultlines emanating from your spine, but still so, so graceful)sing with the nymphsin tune (your voice, it's growing old, raspy even. your throat's burning dry like a monsoon faltering in a desert, and tones still octaves powerful)be nestled in a king's armssoon (oh, you precious little thing. how
Onceyour beauty lies restless behind those hills, where you fought valiantly. and the man you once were was brave and kind,but now you are possessed by a passengerof darkness, whispering words of yourloneliness.the man you once were is forgotten, andthe man you are today, is only a ghost, ashadow, of what you were before.
HorsepowerHorsepowerThere’s a knife turnin in my soft partsAnd heat burnin my mind on hard startsThe motors runnin but I lost the wheelJust want it to be numb don’t wanna feelTake two steps back and put it in parkBefore I leave scarred up black marksI need a u-turn on this highwayBut can’t go back on the by-waySo look ahead, the pavement goes onBreak the rear-view mirror it’s goneContemplateReiteratePut it in driveAnd say goodbyeLet’s see how fast this bitch can fly-Cygam7
nightmarethe foxes are at your bedside and singing--feversongs,songs of boiling thoughtsand broken muscles.their lullabyes.they sneak so quiet, andsomehow,you can't quitedreamanymore.
Lost In ConfusionMy mind is spinning without a restemotions whirl and twirl aroundA merry-go-round gaining speedUntil the world blurrs before my eyesWhat's happening? What's going on?The simplest thought slips away Right from my mind, fading so fast Trying to focus, I stare and stare Until my eyes are heavy and unclear. I don't understand, what is going on...Emotions rise and fall againWithin the blink of an eyeI'm crying, laughing, and depressedA rollercoaster ride that never endsAm I losing my mind in this ?I try to close my eyes and rest But the world spins me around I feel like I am failing this test Voices and noisies echo in my min
Puppet My tears fall, like invisible diamonds. My heart beats, like soundless drums. Unwanted, because of the strings attached.
Why meI wanted sleep very badlyI tried my hardest to restI closed my eyes and laid thereBut sleep didn’t come easyI would doze offAnd wake back upAgainWhy me? When I know I have to be up at 3 AM.
FossilizedLiving proof of fossils alive, and no horseshoe-crab am I.Nor, inhabitable harsh compression of plates,residing under humid marsh-scapes.I mold into the walls, as chalky old coal. But I am no mineral, no era.I am not, Mesozoic.Through the ages IronBronze silver, gold and heroic.I remain a still-life; and no Iduna's apples would retain my youthNo magic fountains, or time devices, or wrist watches.I am the machine of time.The watcher, omnipotent, the wise.Butno God am ISomewhere, sweet tangy sap trolleys down cracked bark.Somewhere, celestial bodies erupt unseen.Somewhere, a abrupt breeze blows overturned bi-cycle tire