[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.

XXXXXEven now,
part of me
(my hands)
want to
pull out
that glass
she lodged
in her neck.

Pull it out
and drop it
into pieces,
or keep it
in the back seat
of my car.

Where it can
lay a while
and stare at me.
Part of me
(my chest)
is not afraid
of demons.

It is far less
dangerous
than girls with
haphazard knives
and other
monsters.

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

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

Chasing Butterflies

I believe in starry nights writing timeless songs
of all the yesterdays and tomorrows yet to come.

I believe in hearing the voice of love in rhyme;
I heard it as a child in my mother's lullabies.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

I believe in playing, absorbing life's full sun,
dancing through the day until the night is done.

I believe in wishing wells never running dry,
granting us the time for a tender, slow goodbye.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

Should I cross to the other side,
don't you worry; don't you cry.

There you'll see where tomorrow I'll be,
forever chasing butterflies...

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.

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).

Evolution of life

child, we dream
teenager, we have ideas
adult, we have a bar code encrusted in the nape

we evolve to finish in the matrix

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

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

On The Collapse Of Modern Society"I've never seen so many folks
putting their hopes
in packaged air,
as far as I'm concerned,
and from what I've observed
misplacing material worth while
rushing back and forth
to get nowhere."
my Grandma said,
shaking her head.

Within A BoxIt's a prison for the minds of haunted souls
an odd prison, not large enough to contain its prisoners
and yet it encompasses every fiber of their being
in silent, silent spaces.
Haunted souls are searching for the key
there is no key, but they don't know any better
and what harm could it do? Hope is better than nothing
here's an unlocked open door for you.
Little trinkets haunt souls with their questions
and we want answers, but they won't give
anything away. Very smart,
you know the world is ending soon.
(The best of which are only
crude descriptions of the magic
they are looking for.)

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.

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

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More from ~MisfitableGrae

papered blackbirdWe stopped going to church when it
Interrupted with the scheduling of my dad's favorite radio show.

I stopped believing in God when my
Time-machine turned into a card-board box.

I started believing in myself when
Someone told me
I could.

In Latin, Grace means 'grace''Cause I want to find one poem out there
That has "grace" in it, but does not mention God, or Thanksgiving
Or how beautiful and perfect she looks sitting across the room with her
Hair and her eyes and her hands and her smile.

See, I want to find a poem about Grace,
Where she sometimes sits in bed for hours, and tells herself,
"Today. I promise, today I will not eat," and gets out of bed with this firm resolution
That dissolves as she walks past the kitchen,
And she feels like crying and sometimes she wants to google the next solution
"how to make yourself throw up" but she knows she's not that desperate.
Yet.

Where this 'Grace' cha

So Many NamesLook.
What do you want me to say?
I have five minutes to come up with this
Amazing,
Beautiful,
Deep,
Meaningful poem that makes someone other than me cry-
Wait.

Let me start over.

Dear Soldier,
Apparently it's because of you that I get to vote at age 18.
They changed the Constitution for you.
I guess I should Thank you.

No, let me try again.

My bus driver went to Vietnam to fight.
On his moody days, he slams the breaks,
Opens the doors, and looks at us as if to say,
'Get out, kid. I've got best friends to mourn.'
He has this saying:
"You don't know shit about 'Nam till you've been to 'Nam."
I've never really understood wha

Castles Made of SandFive Things to Know About Me Before You Decide I'm Worth It

5.
If I do something but fail, I have to try again
Until I get it. And if I get it, I have to do it
Seventeen times perfectly (or just hold whatever it is for seventeen seconds),
Because that's what we equal:
Seventeen scars on my wrists,
Seventeen cuts on my stomach,
Seventeen x'es on my thighs.
So, that's seventeen cuts a week, over a period of three weeks,
And that's twenty-one day, which means twenty-one times
You called me a uselessslutwhorebrokengirl,
And twenty-one times I smiled
And stayed anyways.

4.
I knew this five-year old girl who was diagnosed
With termi

antithesis.'Cause there are some days
When I want to give every person
On the Earth a hug.
I want to tell them that someone out there loves them.
Tell them that today, today will be a good day.
Tell them that they are perfect,
No matter their
Race,
Religion,
Weight,
Or if they run outside with high-tech tennis shoes
Or climb trees with bare feet.
They are perfect.

But then, there are some days I want to
Rip out their throats,
And use the Great Wall of China as a canvas
And take my paintbrush dipped in blood
And write the word "Love" over and over again,
So everyone can understand.
Love, liebe, amour, liefde, amor, cinta, gràdh,

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Submitted: December 25, 2012
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Jacob

by ~MisfitableGrae, Dec 25, 2012, 9:11:03 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

^{so today, i decided i would sit down
and write a poem that wasn't about
me or you or what humans are made of (stars)
or where the birds go (north). so instead i'm going to write
a poem about a kid named jacob ragsdale.

jacob's the kind of kid who laughs
with his whole body, like his amusement
cannot be contained to just his eyes and mouth.
he's the kind of boy who threatens to push people in pools,
but never does,
and the kind who threatens to leave
but never can.

jacob has ruined so many things for me,
but i also think he's made them better,
because jacob is one of those people
who can do both at the same time.

see, i sometimes think that if i were
a tornado of physical violence and mediocre insults,
he would be a whirlwind of dry sarcasm
and comments that still sting several minutes after they hit.

"it's a good thing you're wearing a skirt,
because if you were wearing pants, they'd be on fire.
cause you're a liar, liar."

jacob says he still has four little scars on his hand from
that time i stabbed him with a fork
because he hurt my best friend
and no one hurts my friends.

jacob's a mix of kindergarten humor and
words i can never make rhyme; he makes
bets about anything and everything but
always makes sure there are at least two loopholes
so he never has to pay up.
he'll go to his grave claiming he isn't a ginger.
and if you ever meet jacob, i suggest you get used to the fact
that the only way you'll ever get a chance to know him
is if you understand that you never will.

if i wrote a thousand words on stars and birds
and you and me, i could probably understand them—
but i will never be able to understand jacob
ragsdale.}

Jacobby ~MisfitableGrae

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

_{People On Paper 20

merry christmas guys, here's some jacob ragsdale.

oh god, that sounded wrong. but merry christmas anyways.

here's a few things about jacob i couldn't fit into the poem, but i think he'd want me to include.

in seventh grade, i told him about the Game. for the rest of the semester (a good three months), he would come up to me and say, "you just lost the game."

also, a month ago he discovered that a certain song Iris-Goo Goo Dolls makes me cry because of feels and tv shows and just. just. anyways, so now sometimes we'll just be sitting in class, or i'll be standing near him talking to someone else, and he'll turn to the person closest to him and say, "hey. did you know that everything's made to be broken? but really, i just want you to know who i am."

and no matter what's going on in my life, i will laugh. and i guess that really is what jacob does. he can make anyone laugh.}

love 1 1

joy 1 1

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~rayoflight20 Jan 18, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

This is really lovely <3

=EvelynTaliette Dec 28, 2012 Student Writer

This is a lovely idea with a perfect execution! I saw a similar idea the other day- people as songs- and the end results turned out just as lovely as yours.

~RoseScarlet Dec 26, 2012 Student Writer

That's so awesome!

*RiseandBe Dec 26, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I love this series that you are doing. Each piece is so inspiring. You make people seem so much more beautiful than anyone really is. Like when you write them down, they are flawlessly flawed - each person a work of art. And that is really something.

~yarryanotak Dec 25, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

I feel like all I can do now is favorite every new poem you come up with from now on. I haven't any words left to express how much I like your work anymore, and I feel you would have the words to explain that I can't. That sounds dumb, but I feel it was needed to be said and I don't plan on pressing the backspace key any time soon. Just know, when I read your work I always gain a smile on my face afterwards.

~arabesque-o Dec 25, 2012 Student Photographer

_{your way of describing people inspires me. alot.
your way with words in general awes me.}

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