Submissions by Ace_Avery (Clint Avery)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Words are my life. Writing poetry for 20 years. It's one of the greatest loves of mine. I have hopes of becoming a published/payed writer. Feel free to comment, or message me about my writing/questions you may have.I appreciate any interest in my work.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
29th Apr 2013 11:41pm
29th Apr 2013 11:41pm
Slowly
Some nights it's easier
to fight
the habit
to light
up
when all that's left
are ashtrays
full of filters.
Some days it's harder
to drink
the bottle;
to fall
down
when all that stands
are walls
full of wicked whispers.
There will be a moment
to take control
when nothing lasts
longer than the previous high;
chasing that fucking Dragon
night after day.
There will come a time
to make peace
when everything vanishes
quicker than a delusion;
dying on the fucking floor
bound...
to fight
the habit
to light
up
when all that's left
are ashtrays
full of filters.
Some days it's harder
to drink
the bottle;
to fall
down
when all that stands
are walls
full of wicked whispers.
There will be a moment
to take control
when nothing lasts
longer than the previous high;
chasing that fucking Dragon
night after day.
There will come a time
to make peace
when everything vanishes
quicker than a delusion;
dying on the fucking floor
bound...
689 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Apr 2013 7:14pm
28th Apr 2013 7:14pm
Torches
The hard wood
floor
is colder
than the night
before he left;
his last
warm,
kiss goodbye.
She can't stand
the dark
alone;
it reminds her of demons
and greedy goblins.
He was always
the fire
guiding her through
this Hell
of a damned life.
........................
She lights up
a cigarette
hoping to keep
the shadows
at bay;
the dragon calls her
name
to come
over and play.
He tempts her
with diamonds and gold;
she can't resist
the words from...
floor
is colder
than the night
before he left;
his last
warm,
kiss goodbye.
She can't stand
the dark
alone;
it reminds her of demons
and greedy goblins.
He was always
the fire
guiding her through
this Hell
of a damned life.
........................
She lights up
a cigarette
hoping to keep
the shadows
at bay;
the dragon calls her
name
to come
over and play.
He tempts her
with diamonds and gold;
she can't resist
the words from...
875 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
27th Apr 2013 7:51pm
27th Apr 2013 7:51pm
In Line
She's quite the piece
of artwork;
ink and holes
spread
all over her
exposed
canvas.
Exquisite detail
in every line;
there is no sign
that says you can't
touch,
but you still have to
pay by the hour.
Her private
showings
are filled with her best
work.
It's 11:11 a.m,
her shift ends,
she's too tired
to make a wish.
of artwork;
ink and holes
spread
all over her
exposed
canvas.
Exquisite detail
in every line;
there is no sign
that says you can't
touch,
but you still have to
pay by the hour.
Her private
showings
are filled with her best
work.
It's 11:11 a.m,
her shift ends,
she's too tired
to make a wish.
651 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Apr 2013 11:50pm
23rd Apr 2013 11:50pm
Threesome
I love (too much)
in the heat (of a battle)
when they scream (my name)
loud and claw my back;
crazy, rough, sex (has become).
(Scars) from back before
(used to mean) all this mess
of (leaving).
(I loved) them
when I left them
and now I'm (never coming back);
too far gone.
Read all the words as one poem, then only the bracket words as another, then only the non bracket words as another.
in the heat (of a battle)
when they scream (my name)
loud and claw my back;
crazy, rough, sex (has become).
(Scars) from back before
(used to mean) all this mess
of (leaving).
(I loved) them
when I left them
and now I'm (never coming back);
too far gone.
Read all the words as one poem, then only the bracket words as another, then only the non bracket words as another.
980 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
22nd Apr 2013 00:31am
22nd Apr 2013 00:31am
Dosage
A lifted spirit
by words of foreign tongue,
soaring from the dissolute pits
behind the black curtain;
she did it for money,
not freedom,
or by choice,
such detest.
Her gut instinct
twists and turns,
feeling unclean,
chained
by her own personal oppression
as he leaves the room;
twirling her last smile
with a kiss to his cheek.
"Bye Darling"
Then it hits her,
the trigger,
the trauma,
the past;
nicotine,
puff, puff, puff;
she feels lighter again.
She's no Damsel, ...
by words of foreign tongue,
soaring from the dissolute pits
behind the black curtain;
she did it for money,
not freedom,
or by choice,
such detest.
Her gut instinct
twists and turns,
feeling unclean,
chained
by her own personal oppression
as he leaves the room;
twirling her last smile
with a kiss to his cheek.
"Bye Darling"
Then it hits her,
the trigger,
the trauma,
the past;
nicotine,
puff, puff, puff;
she feels lighter again.
She's no Damsel, ...
624 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
18th Apr 2013 6:49pm
18th Apr 2013 6:49pm
This Morning
He lays in his bed
fading
in and out of consciousness
listening
to the crows cackle
from the trees beyond
his windowpane.
Cold feet,
sore back,
hungry with barely any
food in the cupboards
to keep his body fed.
Maybe he should have payed
more attention to the crows
outside arguing over
who will eat
the last scrap of wet bread.
It's been a Hell
of a time gathering up
the strength to stand
to his feet,
and it'll be a lot tougher yet
to climb the trees in the backyard
looking for...
fading
in and out of consciousness
listening
to the crows cackle
from the trees beyond
his windowpane.
Cold feet,
sore back,
hungry with barely any
food in the cupboards
to keep his body fed.
Maybe he should have payed
more attention to the crows
outside arguing over
who will eat
the last scrap of wet bread.
It's been a Hell
of a time gathering up
the strength to stand
to his feet,
and it'll be a lot tougher yet
to climb the trees in the backyard
looking for...
645 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
17th Apr 2013 2:09am
17th Apr 2013 2:09am
Therapy
You and your addictions
have you chained to a rock
you will never escape;
deep within the Dragon's lair,
smoke thick,
full of fire and ice.
You could have been someone
else,
but chose to hit
the pipe and the bottle;
calming euphoria.
You've pierced and tattooed
your body;
self mutilation,
or self expression
depending on the labeled eye
of the beholder.
You've become
such a unique creature;
there's no stopping
you
from consuming life
in copious amounts.
So set your self
free...
have you chained to a rock
you will never escape;
deep within the Dragon's lair,
smoke thick,
full of fire and ice.
You could have been someone
else,
but chose to hit
the pipe and the bottle;
calming euphoria.
You've pierced and tattooed
your body;
self mutilation,
or self expression
depending on the labeled eye
of the beholder.
You've become
such a unique creature;
there's no stopping
you
from consuming life
in copious amounts.
So set your self
free...
559 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th Apr 2013 4:00am
15th Apr 2013 4:00am
Dying To Be...
It's been years since love
has fought my hateful heart;
a cold cavity in my chest
like the rotting teeth in my head.
I've always been attracted
to the ones I can't have,
too far away to touch,
too beautiful for such a beast
to want in his bed; torn to shreds.
Made of bones and cursed
by the dead to live
my nights under the full moon
howling for love to save me.
If only they knew how many wishes
I've wasted on trying
to feel human again;
alone in my own nightmare
falling for the shadows that be.
has fought my hateful heart;
a cold cavity in my chest
like the rotting teeth in my head.
I've always been attracted
to the ones I can't have,
too far away to touch,
too beautiful for such a beast
to want in his bed; torn to shreds.
Made of bones and cursed
by the dead to live
my nights under the full moon
howling for love to save me.
If only they knew how many wishes
I've wasted on trying
to feel human again;
alone in my own nightmare
falling for the shadows that be.
646 reads
4 Comments
SONG LYRICS
Published
12th Apr 2013 00:37am
12th Apr 2013 00:37am
Freestyling Poetry
Don't look,
don't look at me
Lord,
I've been trying,
and trying hard,
so I dove into the deep
end of the closed
community pool,
right off
the diving board like a God
damned fool.
I never kept my head straight,
too busy blowing up
brain cells and mind states
because I was used to throwing up
peace signs and middle fingers,
I could always hold my liquor
with both hands,
double fisting like a stripper.
Two wasted lines
and enough ink to spell
fifteen words;
oh what I would give
for just a few...
don't look at me
Lord,
I've been trying,
and trying hard,
so I dove into the deep
end of the closed
community pool,
right off
the diving board like a God
damned fool.
I never kept my head straight,
too busy blowing up
brain cells and mind states
because I was used to throwing up
peace signs and middle fingers,
I could always hold my liquor
with both hands,
double fisting like a stripper.
Two wasted lines
and enough ink to spell
fifteen words;
oh what I would give
for just a few...
693 reads
1 Comment
STORY POEM
Published
8th Apr 2013 00:24am
8th Apr 2013 00:24am
Wolves in Women's Clothing
The women of Wolf Canyon
can smell a man's fear
from the scent of his heart;
either you fall in love
with one of their daughters
and make them plenty
pups,
or try and outrun
their quickest killer.
They've survived
within the rocks
for decades since the last
fall
of man;
fire, sun, and flesh
their only comforts.
The wind howls
on nights like tonight
when their pack is running out
of time to find
food for a feast,
so Mother Hunter
transformers
from woman into beast.
No man stands...
can smell a man's fear
from the scent of his heart;
either you fall in love
with one of their daughters
and make them plenty
pups,
or try and outrun
their quickest killer.
They've survived
within the rocks
for decades since the last
fall
of man;
fire, sun, and flesh
their only comforts.
The wind howls
on nights like tonight
when their pack is running out
of time to find
food for a feast,
so Mother Hunter
transformers
from woman into beast.
No man stands...
591 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
7th Apr 2013 5:37pm
7th Apr 2013 5:37pm
The Question
What do I write ?
For others to read,
grasp,
appreciate,
love,
hate,
inspire,
or for myself;
habit,
hobby,
therapy,
accomplishment,
reflection,
or just a smile.
To leave a part
of myself on paper,
so my words can be voiced,
instead of fading away in silence,
never known for wearing
a crown on my head.
The thousand petal lotus,
luminous,
filled with energy
from waves of thought
crashing on my tongue
and rolling to my lips.
For others to read,
grasp,
appreciate,
love,
hate,
inspire,
or for myself;
habit,
hobby,
therapy,
accomplishment,
reflection,
or just a smile.
To leave a part
of myself on paper,
so my words can be voiced,
instead of fading away in silence,
never known for wearing
a crown on my head.
The thousand petal lotus,
luminous,
filled with energy
from waves of thought
crashing on my tongue
and rolling to my lips.
636 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Apr 2013 1:03am
6th Apr 2013 1:03am
Glass House
How many hits can she swallow;
the pipe,
the fist,
the pistol?
She's smoking
hot,
hurting,
lost,
rotting and beautiful,
too tough to fight it,
even when the trigger
is cocked.
Her mouth wide
open,
ready to finish
it all,
cutting
into another
crystal.
There were bridges
she couldn't cross,
bridges she wanted to build,
others only to tear down;
nights wasted
on men's pretty pennies.
Voices
calling from curb corners
in their lemons and lamborghinis,
most with...
the pipe,
the fist,
the pistol?
She's smoking
hot,
hurting,
lost,
rotting and beautiful,
too tough to fight it,
even when the trigger
is cocked.
Her mouth wide
open,
ready to finish
it all,
cutting
into another
crystal.
There were bridges
she couldn't cross,
bridges she wanted to build,
others only to tear down;
nights wasted
on men's pretty pennies.
Voices
calling from curb corners
in their lemons and lamborghinis,
most with...
732 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Ace_Avery (Clint Avery)
