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Waiting for a coach
that never came,
a ball gown
out of sackloth;
are not dependable
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.
Do not let anyone
clip your wings;
you were made for the skies.
Definition of a Writerwrit•er
A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery
They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish
A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own
They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone
Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.
The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress
Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.
A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.
Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
For every boy I ever kissedi.
you took my hand 'neath the magnolia
at a christmas dinner party I held.
your mouth was cold. so were my affections.
you were the first man to listen to me.
i let you listen to my heartbeat; but
when the day fell away, you bruised me deep.
you were my safe harbour, and i your storm
turning your misery to naught but air
but i squirmed away from your tongue, repulsed.
you were my cradle, when i couldn't sleep
you would hold me close and pray for something,
anything, to keep me safe. (it was you).
eleven months spent sleeping with my phone,
i still couldn't believe when you kissed me
even after midnight struck us agai
moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:
giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --
burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.
it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.
Broken Birds and Stark PhrasesWe slip and slide and fall
down curves and carrow places.
We cursive at the wall
in our undefinéd spaces.
Disjointed limbs extend
to strumpet our arrival,
to warn who are not friends
we will kill to survive all.
Hung upside-down haunters
hug branches in the Forrest.
Merry nightmare monsters,
Cheery snarling chorus,
Arachnic children know;
you can run but you can't hide
from this disparic truth,
darkness waits for you inside.
Although you seek the sun,
as all creaky spinsters might,
the night can't be out done
and it has you in its sight.
L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that
Missing piecesMissing pieces
There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk in pieces, howling
around my heart.
-SophieCT, 2012, 2013
field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.
Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs
I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight
I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family
I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push
I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"
I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says
I can't trust anyone because they do
The PoetFor the work of a Poet to be truly appreciated
he must write it with his own blood and tears for ink
his soul the sharpened quill to nail the words
like so many specimen of unwilling insects upon the paper.
And once he has bled out
becoming the cause of his own demise
the reader is left behind to digest his soul
so plainly trapped within a cage of words
his requiem written as a love song to his Muse.
MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings
Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee
van houten must be godi. you know how in embroidered cloth,
from the bottom under the design,
all you see are knots? her honey-like,
voice lulls me to sleep,
that's what we see of God's plan.
just the knots. when in reality,
it's the design on top;
beautiful and flawless that He
has in store for us.
i learnt that word
when i was three
but every time i said it,
my face hurt and mom's hand fell.
God will put you
do you want that?
i knew better than to say it again.
ii. you're an estimated
fallacy, the perfect
you don't need to exist
for people to believe.
they make you real with
dancing tongues behind
of murmuring lips of
iii. of the rain,
i sang songs, whispering
prayers only you
if you truly are
what they say for you to be,
then there are no secrets
between you and me.
mother still sings
the same songs
in the rain, hoping
you'll hear her the way
i thought you would.
but she doesn't know you died long ago
Beloved OneSupple flesh thrown to ground,
These damaged wounds ne'r to heal.
She said she loved my siren sound,
Lest, we'd be discarded foot and heel.
She rends herself in immaculate way,
Blood so perfect, spilt in vain.
Scars she hides from the light of day,
I fear I was too weak in reign.
Blood, nails and barbed wire crown,
A silent victory found in hollow frown.
I dream the day when I can feel,
The pain again that didn't heal.
The pain she dealt upon herself,
The pain I didn't believe an outcry.
Its all so bright,
She gives me sanity,
She gives me lust.
I would utter a litany,
A million words of love.
Her beauty downed,
A million souls,
Meat wagons roll out.
Bled dry this sacred ground.
Bayonets stand before me.
Rifles push me from behind.
I will see you at the end,
Love will conquer fear.
The American DreamOne's own prosperity is dependant on one's own endeavours, not on the class they are born into and not on race, creed, gender or sexuality as it was in the past. A dream that people of all walks of life have equal chance to make themselves into a prosperous person.
Today more than a fifth of the world's monetary value is possessed by the American People. Of all the three-hundred million people in the United States of America, One percent of the population controls nearly ninety percent of the money. Those born into a rich family are the once that remain rich.
Education is poor, people of Hispanic and African-American families are less likel
Three RosesA White Rose tells me of purity.
A Black Rose tells me of death,
A Red Rose tells me of love,
Three Roses tells me of undying love.
A White Rose tells me of innocence,
A Black Rose tells me of rebirth,
A Red Rose tells me of passion,
Three Roses tells me of passionate love.
A White Rose tells me of integrity,
A Black Rose tells me of sorrow,
A Red Rose tells me of infatuation,
Three Roses tells me of my love for you.
A White Rose, Black Rose and Red Rose,
Tell me how you truely feel,
That your love is so deep it purifies you,
That your passion rebirths you,
That you are reborn to be in my arms.
JiseiKind words linger on
I will never forget you
I'll see myself home
Sakura's on my window
I can hear birds sing
Remind me of who I was
A rose of another name
WraithfallThe World of Wraithfall is a dark and depressing world. An underworld with only crags in the surface plating allowing any light into the world, it is constantly lit by perpetual twilight from endless artificial sources. Undominated by any power, the Sirisin and Pure-blooded powers often try and often have fights with the unruleable warlords in this world. Currency is in slaves with the Jidua being the most valuable and the Vampyrs a close second. The Jennifer Narcotics also have a huge factor in the currency of the world.
There are five races that inhabit the world.
The Vampyr, people adapted to the darkness, the ultimate soldiers by cultur
Shattered jewels reign fire,
Metal pierces breast,
Asunder we are,
Punctured and failling,
Life ebbs away,
Souls alight in torment,
Panic chokes breath away,
Slice by slice,
Fate is sealed...
Sangria taints water,
Keep in Touch!
`ChewedKandi has certainly gone out of her way to keep the vector community on the right path. Always making sure that her talents are infinitely scalable, Sharon has put her bezier curves to excellent use, and firmly anchored herself as an inspirational leader. We're absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for June 2013 to `ChewedKandi. Congratulations, Sharon! Read More