[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 arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear 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 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

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

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

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 ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.

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

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

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.

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.

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.

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Audreydear girl i sit by in english

this is for you.
this is for you because you are
the dreamer of impossible dreams, and the
doer of improbable things.

this is for you, because
you balance on two legs when your life
is spinning out of control
and poetry will always confuse you.

you love fudge brownies like you love
every single guy you like.
for so long, the only thing i knew about you
was the fact that you liked reptiles in second grade.

this is for you, because
you walk around swim meets without pants
and brush your hair in the bathroom before lunch.
you're a mess of contradictions and the most
securest insecure person i have e

you break it, you buy it.1. someone came up to me the other day, and told me
that if i didn't start using capital letters in my poems,
she wouldn't read any more of them.
i just told her in a quiet voice that i was tired of screaming
at people who would never listen.

the thing with me is that i always
read too much into things-
people, newspapers, fucks, metaphors.
and usually i fall in love with things that
could never love me back.

2. i destroy the things that mean
the most to me, and i've never gotten the hang
of writing in stanzas.

most days i walk around reciting numbers
and other people's poetry, but usually
i just count the seconds i spend falli

Madisonlights.
curtains.
action.
no retakes, no redos. only one chance.
this is broadway.
and this is madison bailey's dream.

my friends and i are lost boys and she's our wendy;
we call her mom and she reminds us to all to
"do your homework, adysen,"
"be nice to sydney, audrey."
"you're going to eat more than that, aren't you, grace?"
and when she doesn't understand,
she doesn't stop trying.

madison's a closeted directioner,
and i feel almost bad because she's the kind of person
to hide her opinions if it makes anyone else
feel uncomfortable.

i, on the other hand, am rude and loud mouthed
and i have a tendency of floating off int

stop me if you've heard this one beforei.
there is a man on the corner of my street
who gave me a bottle of bleach
and told me if i drank it, i'd finally feel clean.

but i gave it back to him, and went home to take a shower.

because i am almost happy,
and i do not want to mess that up by
chugging bleach or fingering knives or thinking too much
about that man who turned my insides cold
from inside of his car.

because this has to be happy.
this has to be what happy feels like.
it feels like god gave me a vodka bottle
filled with nature and people and oceans and deserts and seas,
cause see, it feels like i'm drunk on life.

ii.
i have this nervous habit of scratching

catch the stars to remember her wishesi.
she rememberes the little things first.
her favorite color is purple
she likes blueberry pancakes,
and leaves pennies face-up on random street corners.
even with these pieces, it feels like
a huge chunk has been torn away that she could never retrieve

ii.
there are scars on her person
she does not remember getting.
her body is a map of memories
she does not know how to read.

iii.
they say she used to be calm and collected,
but now she is hot and fiery,
and they don't know her anymore.
but that's okay, because she doesn't know herself.

iv.
she misses the sun,
and the bad school coffee and English projects
and her own b

Allieat the age of one, allie martin
was diagnosed with leukemia.
by three, her parents were carrying around a hairless baby,
and dreading each x they marked the calendar with.

but this is not a cancer story,
because by the age of four, she was cured
and she doesn't know why,
but she doesn't concern herself with the why.

allie martin is the best cheerleader i know,
just because she seems so happy to be up there
trying to make everyone else happy.
see, when she was in the hospital, her parents said,
she was the happiest patient there.

"alison martin?"
"it's allie, and i am here."
if there is one thing i cannot say about allie,
it is

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Submitted: August 2, 2012
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Daniel

by ~MisfitableGrae, Aug 2, 2012, 3:00:29 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

_{If it wasn't for Daniel Calhoun
I would have gotten that part in the
Middle School Fall Play when I was
in eighth grade.

But Daniel's someone you forgive easily,
Just because he's Daniel and I've known the boy for nine years,
And anyway, Daniel kind of comes with a get-off free gene.

He also seems to have come with a blush-easily gene,
Because his face is tomato-red half the school day.
I guess that's okay too, because it's
Kind of funny.
Some find it annoying how he can't stop laughing at times,
But I can't help but find it hopeful- like his open,
Laughing mouth, squinty eyes and bright red blush
Paints a picture with the caption,
'Here is a kid who still wears his emotions on his sleeve-
Here is a kid who cannot stop laughing.'

In History class we read in Monotone the Constitution.
When it gets to Daniel, he clears his throat,
Puffs his chest and speaks in
Color.

Daniel is the typical private school guy.
He volunteers most weekends, has a well-off family, always says,
"Yep, I'm going down to my house boat this weekend."
When I tell him I've never been on a houseboat,
He tells me, "I'd invite you down but I really
Don't like you that much."

That's another thing I like about Daniel.
He's honest.

And he doesn't cuss.
When Daniel says 'fuck',
The world will end.

He laughs at jokes even when they aren't funny,
And asks me why I like the rain so much.
When I explain, he nods and says he understands,
But his hair stays as bright as the sun, and his eyes
As blue as the sky.

But Daniel hurt his shoulder playing football and
Had to have a surgery to get it working properly again.
Even after that, he had to take physical therapy
During play practice,
So I got the part.
But it tasted as bitter as the
Glass of pure lemon juice he once dared me to drink.}

Danielby ~MisfitableGrae

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

_{People on Paper 10

This is Daniel's poem (derp uh-duh). And I have known him for more than half my life. I have known most of these people for half my life actually, but that doesn't mean a thing. Because knowing someone and actually seeing someone are two completely different things.

And I didn't say this in the last poem, maybe it was the shock.

BUT OHMIGOD, THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON. I love my premium membership so so so much, though I don't know what I did to deserve it.

You are the best frickin' person in the world, I love you so much.}

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~PeetathebreadMellark Aug 24, 2012 Student General Artist

I really enjoyed this. At first, I thought it was pure fiction, but I guess not! And this guy seems kinda awesome. That thing he said, "I'd invite you down but I really don't like you that much" came as such a shocker to me! I just, I don't know. I would never have the courage to say anything like that. I admire this guy Daniel for that. And this People on Paper thing sounds really interesting. I would love to read more of it!

~winterkate Aug 7, 2012 Student Writer

This is lovely. Seriously, how brilliantly and elegantly you encompass an entire character into one poem is fantastic. I love your style and syntax and everything about this is great! Should Monotone have been capitalized, though?

~BlueDreamer77 Aug 4, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

This is great! To be able to capture someone and to remember such things is fanomanal. You've done a great job! Wish someone would write a poem like this about me, then I'd know what they thought of me and hope it was just as good as your portrail of Daniel.

~starell Aug 2, 2012

Wow this is spectacular! I love the way you've told this story and highlighted this person and also yourself at the same time! I really love it!

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