[x]

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.

lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming warmth of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment before I heard you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the first second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along

Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for?
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude

False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen

ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).

False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for

Psychotic ramblingsI, in the eternal void rest,
Am the unwanted thirteenth guest,
Insane, deranged and psychotic,
There are people who even call me sick.

Isn't it joyful and greedy to demand
A sacrifice of strangulation at the reach of the hand?
Cure the poisoned in a prison built of mental sand.

Murder is the solution brought by the resolution.
Is this the final, one and only conclusion?
Better think again, there will be no retribution.

Death is not the liberation, just the beginning.
Is there eternal peace? The solution is sinning.
Unacceptable lies become the truth, the chaos keeps spinning.

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire

WakefulI remain awake with dreams on my mind
and stories that wait to be knit into books.
To never find comfort until my pillows are
stuffed with thoughts instead of feathers
To never let go until I made sure that
the moon smiled back at me
Until the trees, the grass, and every night creature
has whispered good night...
And yet I'm still as wakeful as an owl
afraid that sleep would somehow
grab my neck and drag me to my grave.

Shared HappinessI like it better when you're happy.
The world feels like a safe place -
A good place to be.

Stay happy, even in the face
of great adversity
I know these last few years have been...

Well, difficult, to say the least.
But as long as your heart shines
I can hear it...

That devilish smile on your lips
the one no amount of miles
or hardships can erase

Remember, I'm always watching
With the eyes of my heart
I see you clearly

And, as long as you are happy
No matter where this life leads me
Then I am happy too.

Watercolor PainWhen you smile,
I turn colorblind.

It turns into a somersault
whenever I gain contact
with your skin,
bare back touching
bare back.

But I'm not hungry
for bedposts.

I just want to
savor each moment your arms
lock into mine,
the romanticism of
the moons in my eyes
and the skies in your words.

There's smoke
behind all those hues
of hazel and your fingers
are porcelain,
but I still love you.

bad nightmy mistakes are on my head,
and the cigarettes taste like metal;
on the street curb of a suburban block,
the lights jaundiced and flickering
like drunken fireflies, your reflection
that emanates from me covers every face.

HumanDear Hypocrite,

What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

a true writer's souli write to release
i write to breathe
i write to feel
i write to bleed

i don't care
if you don't understand
i don't care
if you can't relate
i don't care
for your opinion
i don't care
about you at all

my words are thoughts
my words are emotions
my words are curses
my words are memories
my words are everything
i want them to be
and fuck if you can comprehend

i could write in measure
i could bother with rhythm
but i'm better than your rules
i'm beyond the margin

i'm a fucking psychotic mess
of ambiguous lunacy
that only the ones that think
can understand
the ones that
are just like me

fuck your critiques

fuck your citicism

fuck your opin

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HolidayIt's the virgin night.
I don't remember a single heartbeat today,
only the endless stream
of information.

A shift on the pillows,
soft lights on my face,
this beanie boy is stranded,
brain held in by AKGs.
Guess you can always rely
on German engineering
to keep you numb
but solid.

It's time to finally write
this poem about chambers
jumping in resonance
with the solitary vibration.

I try to remember
what it is to breathe.
You'd think it was easy.

Laura sings of her need of shine.
And I don't really need
another glass of wine.

ThrownBones heaped
like uncaught bonfires.
Crash lander, skyborn,
splintered like frostbitten stones,
like trees fallen deep
from the snow line.

Eulogy of a man that was,
and the name of his lover written
in femurs, vertebrae and ribs,
waiting for the thaw,
the salmon and the sea.

All memories carried by wolves
to their starving cubs.
Open skull for the rainfall
and the birds.
The landscape of skin
imprinted on the ground.
A fading map
with footstep borders
disappearing fast
in the tide of time.

To the CoastLooking darkly to the back of the car,
I see ruin in her eyes.

We pass another town of murderers
cradled in the pines.

This is the way to the coast,
and it is her birthday.

The sky is ashen and pregnant.
I snap a picture of your hand in mine
to somehow make this real.
Unfortunately
this makes the moment unforgettable.

She sleeps back there,
wearing my clothes
like family.

Here comes the Devil,
but we lose him
over the hill.

Here comes God,
but we lose him
at the sea.

Drunk textingI could tell it
every time that briar dirt branched from
the window in your hands, as if
it were flowers worth your time.
As if anything we wasted
ever lived
past the glory,
past the dust.

You were not the half the liar
you thought you were.
I knew, you know.
I knew.

Every seed I cultivated
I tasted lost, but
hope grows, right?
Hope grows.

Here comes the ghost.
You threw yourself to your rapid ground.
Here comes the ghost.

Past the Sisters,
past the Tombs.
You said you loved me.
I didn't respond
with anything
but bile.

NolanderI remember looking down
across dark mountains, spring snow,
a blinking light here and there,
maybe a car, maybe something else
entirely.

Maybe she will, I thought.
Maybe she will
after all.

I looked for the state border,
but there was nothing to cross.
It was simply the land,
hard-lined and jagged,
old and black and blue.

Maybe it will be fine, I thought.
Maybe it will
after all.

I don't remember if it was day or night now.
I don't remember any descent.
Only the drift-dirty mountains,
and those wild hermit lights.
Then the vortex of foreign law.

She is right there, I thought.
But she wasn't really
after all.

CavalierYou sat with one hand on the dashboard,
your other one shaking,
reluctantly dancing with a cheap cigarette,
that you were simply burning,
because something needed to die.
We didn't look each other in the eye,
except in the rear view mirror,
the irony not yet reflected.

I will never forget that six thousand mile stare,
many times your age shining from the endless deep,
the weight of everything you carry
written in ruptured veins.

"Old ghosts dancing again," I said.
"This is not very good," I whispered,
tightened throat and eyes aflame.
You echoed, and then you were gone.
I remained for a while, in that wreck of a Chevy,
maroon

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Winterthing

by *neonxaos, Nov 11, 2012, 7:33:15 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Winter does a thing to you, makes a thing of you,
shells you from the worldly smells and pulls you under
heavy blankets of dark and snow.

Nothing is as real
as the dreams you cut your sun-shaped holes in
when the light is out.

Let's sleep together, everyone.
By the fire, by moon.
Let's sleep together.

Winterthingby *neonxaos

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

...

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*avfc4me Nov 26, 2012

And THAT is why winter is my favorite time of year!

I like this particularly. Think I'll print it an' stick it above my desk and when I'm in need of distraction from work I'll glance over an' re-read it 'til I know it without peeking.

*neonxaos Nov 27, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Haha, you're welcome to do that

~BelaRoseWolf Nov 19, 2012 Student Writer

Well, this is kind-of haunting, but very interesting. I love how short and "sweet" it is. Excellent work!

*neonxaos Nov 20, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you, I prefer my poetry to be rather short and terse and my articles to be so long and sprawling that my editor goes insane

~BelaRoseWolf Nov 25, 2012 Student Writer

You're welcome! XD

=Bark Nov 11, 2012 Writer

I've been thinking a lot lately about this same thing, but haven't been able to express it. Thanks.

*neonxaos Nov 13, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

You're more than welcome

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Winterthing

Winterthingby *neonxaos

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