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Words turn pebbles
under my tongue,
smooth and heavy,
Rolling off my tongue
they taste like dawn
and tap water, like
sour grapes and the
Blumine from Mahler’s
They are weightless.
At three they grow
restless, like horses
tethered too long. Cut
free, they take off
with the roar of
lions and waterfalls.
Little Sister, she watches
as the old apothecary
from Turning Street
arranges little stones
into secrets, careful,
the smoky scent of
belief draping over his
Under his hands,
fingertips and countertops
they shine smoother
than fire and narrower than
the open sea.
Her lips are sharp and
tomorrow she will read
a novel that starts like
maman est morte.
Today, she catches
The gardens we keepThey will bloom inevitably –
Though you may never see –
The gardens that you keep.
Every thought is a seed and every hope a drop of water.
One by one let them see the sun;
They will bloom inevitably.
They paint themselves onto your smiles,
Unfold over everything you touch.
Though you may never see –
Every time you walk down the street,
I fall in love with them,
The gardens that you keep.
Is it in the sounds I make
Or the words you hear?
It is mine to know
And yours to create anew
And time's to forget.
radioactiveA month, two weeks, three days ago, the plant was not radioactive,
According to the TV-men. That did not make less impactive
The explosion that shook the world, so shockingly not inactive.
Never before, never after, had death appeared so attractive.
gods and spirits of trickery (find me willing)Spirits that walk into the night
And dance away the day,
Won't you take me with you tonight,
And let me there to stay?
Set me aflame, let me burn strong,
Immolate me with verse and song,
Set me aflame,
Set me aflame,
Take me to where no right is wrong.
Lovers who drink the honey wine
Under the sacred moon,
Pain and pleasure always entwine,
You will learn all too soon.
Serenade me with blood and tears,
Siren song to my jaded ears,
Old Jackal with your whooping jeers.
Men and women who drift alone
In muddled conviction
Let not regret turn you to stone,
Find now absolution.
Follow me down the narrow paths,
Twisting-falling in shadow grass,
Follow me down,
Follow me down,
The road back up is broken glass.
Run fastRun fast, there is no time to spare
'fore the ocean touches the sky.
Fly straight into the light and dare
To look for hope, and dream, and try.
For the ocean touches the sky
Already, in the east. Run fast,
To look for hope, and dream and try,
Even, a glance down to the past.
Already in the east, run fast,
Run fast. There is no time to spare
Even a glance down to the past.
Fly straight into the light, and dare.
sweet and softSoftly, sweetly soft, listen, how lovely the sound
Of the wind winding around naked stone and broken bone,
Of the clever crow blinking blindly ahead
In the drawing darkness, of the tremulous triumph
Lancing limpidly through soot and soil,
How lovely, listen, oh how sweetly, softly sweet.
Heads 'n TailsHigher,
rejoicing, we exalt
their sacrifice. Drink to the men
out to the gods
for their lives and their souls,
with what faith, in what salvation,
illuminate our skies,
but none to reach our brothers in
let it be said
that, forsaken on the
slaughter-fields, they did not hunger
oh won't you cry
when the letterman comes,
and they tell you your men have won,
I am a MouseI am a mouse.
I am quiet, I am nothing.
I am a book that nobody has read.
I am an eclipsed sun and a cloaked moon.
I am irrelevant and unwanted, a broken toy in an attic.
I am the dust in your rear-view mirror that you leave behind.
I am the air that you breathe in and spit out as something different.
I am the palest white. I am the darkest black. I am the dullest, emptiest grey.
I am the old man with forgotten memories and the baby who has yet to make them.
I am a forgotten word, dangling on the tip of your tongue, hanging on the noose of your lips.
I am a dried up stream. I am a felled forest. I am an abandoned cornucopia of resolute nothingness.
And there is Hell burning in my eyes.
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
A void within meAlone on this inhospitable night, once again
I let my memories guide my lost steps,
Wandering amid the ghosts of my past.
As I walk along the quay,
I stare at the feeble Seine flowing:
She's dying by the street lamps' hands
While the whole city asphyxiates.
Reflecting my own lack of humanity
Over the river's lighted surface,
Griefs come and go at the water's rhythm.
Once again, on this breathtaking night,
My feelings are sealed and my chest hollow.
Purple rain, chills of cold.... Or regret? I crave
My musical drug, my remaining salvation,
Spreading a sweet poison within me and
Eroding the remaining happiness I still have.
I plug my headphones...
A grin of relief appears on my weary face,
I flee to lenient lands, where a familiar Angel tucks me in.
These notes of violin split the immutable silence,
Fill the hole in, lit a bonfire to my soul.
This mermaid sings my dreams to me,
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
you talk like a travestyoh, mercury boy, you can't
write your way out of this
body or out of this mind;
you can pray like it's high-fashion,
insist you're only burning yourself out
(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)
if only for murky mirrors &
silver cicadas caught
in your ribcage, you've
got a knack for decaying
california wintersthe tears
I rationed have all
run out. Tuesday comes
up behind me and steals
my breath; my cat snores.
she can’t sleep soundly
since she lost her seventh
life. I’m like that, I’m always
worried someone will try to steal
what I’ve already given away.
I miss color. newsprint sobs
washed me out. I am a
blank canvas, I am a faceless,
I am one
of you. I wake up sweating
and it’s winter and I can’t
sleep because my memories
follow me between my sheets;
jake still won’t listen.
we never knew we were the
lucky ones, we scarred, too. don’t
touch me. don’t want
me, don’t bare my bones
when you think I’m not
watching. I’m afraid of
myself. breathing loud
enough that others know
I exist; you follow me,
needing, laughing, it’s
a game. who has lost
the most, we all want
to win; I’m so tired, so scared,
there’s no one in the world
who sees me. I can’t cry.
we’re in a drought.
Hold the HeartI.
Your heart is like the old wall,
at the end of the street,
filled with random scribbles,
of names and dates.
Though yours smells of wine and scented candles,
cluttered with faulty promises rather than garbage.
I watched you toss it so many times,
like a useless rag ball, but this time hurt didn't it?
She couldn't bear to see her name,
topping the list of a million others,
nor the lipstick print you forgot to wipe,
mixed with the scent of another's perfume.
She added a new smudge to your wall,
a line of black carefully drawn
across the memories and faces,
and firmly stated:
"No more littering allowed at all".
Then she took a hammer and ripped a hole,
wincing in disgust at the decaying flesh hiding below.
Hold your heart in your hands,
the patches can no longer sustain,
there are too many pieces now,
I think you're even harming it more,
with every sting of the needle,
while you desperately try to sew it whole.
i want to set your heart on fireor scratch my name onto your bones
like a shadow,
light and shallow
not a claim,
just a memento.
one day maybe you will find,
hidden on the side of your ankle
or beneath your shoulder blades,
the sighs I left behind;
and if you think of me then
that will be sweeter to me
than any burning revenge
could hope to be.
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More