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.
STORY POEM
Published
13th Feb 2013 11:08pm
13th Feb 2013 11:08pm
Pretty Girls
Smoking in the rain,
it calms me;
the rain.
I’m silent;
they pass with their smiles
by the hour,
jokes and kicks to kill
time.
Standing there with nothing
aside
from a little pocket
change left
to call a cab,
or find a dime.
Down
to my last dollar;
I’m still
paying for pretty girls
‘cause I heard they like to dig
graves.
it calms me;
the rain.
I’m silent;
they pass with their smiles
by the hour,
jokes and kicks to kill
time.
Standing there with nothing
aside
from a little pocket
change left
to call a cab,
or find a dime.
Down
to my last dollar;
I’m still
paying for pretty girls
‘cause I heard they like to dig
graves.
567 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
12th Feb 2013 10:53pm
12th Feb 2013 10:53pm
No Service
He walks and wheels
his silver and blue
pedal bike down
the long highway
roads,
burning black asphalt,
beaten around rocks,
scared from tiny pebbles,
yellow and faded white lines
painted parallel
to one another,
he turns
right into the trails,
they intersect for hours,
fallen trees, debris,
dark shades, red eyes,
skeleton with a blue ball cap
styled helmet,
stainless steel watch, red face,
scratched all over,
black shorts and sneakers,
neon green laces,
muddy,
tattooed skin,
bloody,
no shirt,...
his silver and blue
pedal bike down
the long highway
roads,
burning black asphalt,
beaten around rocks,
scared from tiny pebbles,
yellow and faded white lines
painted parallel
to one another,
he turns
right into the trails,
they intersect for hours,
fallen trees, debris,
dark shades, red eyes,
skeleton with a blue ball cap
styled helmet,
stainless steel watch, red face,
scratched all over,
black shorts and sneakers,
neon green laces,
muddy,
tattooed skin,
bloody,
no shirt,...
610 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
12th Feb 2013 6:55pm
12th Feb 2013 6:55pm
Migraine
The agony settles in
like an unwanted house guest
slamming doors in her head,
hammering on walls,
hanging painful portraits with nails;
wide open curtains
let the blinding sun in.
It stomps
up and down the stairs
without any sympathy
for the loud symphony of sounds
blaring all around her.
She can't fall
asleep, the pain
is too much to withstand;
dancing demons
mosh in her aching skull
with no sign of slowing down.
like an unwanted house guest
slamming doors in her head,
hammering on walls,
hanging painful portraits with nails;
wide open curtains
let the blinding sun in.
It stomps
up and down the stairs
without any sympathy
for the loud symphony of sounds
blaring all around her.
She can't fall
asleep, the pain
is too much to withstand;
dancing demons
mosh in her aching skull
with no sign of slowing down.
638 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
10th Feb 2013 5:55pm
10th Feb 2013 5:55pm
Two Faced (a madman in disguise)
A verse for his loss,
head bowed low,
“nothing more”
caws the raven caught
telling his lies,
shedding his black feathers
over the page.
Cackling laughter,
a beautiful face,
coins cover her eyes;
a bid of adieu.
Days
used to reflect
beside broken mirrors,
nights
spent with the fallen stars,
yelling at the moon.
There is a conflicted man
hiding behind a crooked smile
where trash can verses
fill his filthy mouth.
Torn between a voice
out of control,
he...
head bowed low,
“nothing more”
caws the raven caught
telling his lies,
shedding his black feathers
over the page.
Cackling laughter,
a beautiful face,
coins cover her eyes;
a bid of adieu.
Days
used to reflect
beside broken mirrors,
nights
spent with the fallen stars,
yelling at the moon.
There is a conflicted man
hiding behind a crooked smile
where trash can verses
fill his filthy mouth.
Torn between a voice
out of control,
he...
605 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
10th Feb 2013 5:31pm
10th Feb 2013 5:31pm
Thieves
Soul stealers dance slow,
short skirts and slits
entice the eyes of fools
falling for their smiling trickery;
Dionysian masks,
blood for blood wine.
Full with drink and lust,
aching to fuck,
disguised as Goddesses,
manipulating man’s mind to behold
them as precious charms to buy;
many men have
fallen
for their lies.
They take as they please
when the cover of night
is darkest;
flesh meets beneath the sheets
of paper and ballpoint pens write
between her lips.
The morning hang
over...
short skirts and slits
entice the eyes of fools
falling for their smiling trickery;
Dionysian masks,
blood for blood wine.
Full with drink and lust,
aching to fuck,
disguised as Goddesses,
manipulating man’s mind to behold
them as precious charms to buy;
many men have
fallen
for their lies.
They take as they please
when the cover of night
is darkest;
flesh meets beneath the sheets
of paper and ballpoint pens write
between her lips.
The morning hang
over...
643 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
9th Feb 2013 10:30pm
9th Feb 2013 10:30pm
The Flying Fly
The fly flies in such a random flight,
flying in the room
in spider web designs
deciding the wall seems appropriate
to land on,
but how does the fly know
how to fly ?
He must fly,
because he is a fly,
his name gives him meaning,
purpose.
I find it strange,
he has so many eyes,
this fly,
flying in the room,
landing still
on the far wall like a fly
would; cliche.
If I was a fly
with all of my eyes
I could see much more
than the dull room I am in.
The world would seem
a billion times...
flying in the room
in spider web designs
deciding the wall seems appropriate
to land on,
but how does the fly know
how to fly ?
He must fly,
because he is a fly,
his name gives him meaning,
purpose.
I find it strange,
he has so many eyes,
this fly,
flying in the room,
landing still
on the far wall like a fly
would; cliche.
If I was a fly
with all of my eyes
I could see much more
than the dull room I am in.
The world would seem
a billion times...
581 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
9th Feb 2013 8:27pm
9th Feb 2013 8:27pm
Light
We drink til the moon is full
and the sun,no more;
lit darkness and empty cups
of poison for the poor
hearted heretics
who've fallen to the floor.
I close my eyes
and see them both
like a cloud; my beautiful
daughter and wife.
A vision of my life
to be
or rather a dream
of what may come
to a fallen man like me.
Another time far away
from a place like Hell,
drowning in the bottle again,
words too heavy to write
with pen, or type
writer to put to page
'til the end
is near,
so if you...
and the sun,no more;
lit darkness and empty cups
of poison for the poor
hearted heretics
who've fallen to the floor.
I close my eyes
and see them both
like a cloud; my beautiful
daughter and wife.
A vision of my life
to be
or rather a dream
of what may come
to a fallen man like me.
Another time far away
from a place like Hell,
drowning in the bottle again,
words too heavy to write
with pen, or type
writer to put to page
'til the end
is near,
so if you...
645 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Feb 2013 8:52pm
5th Feb 2013 8:52pm
The Morning Newspaper
His flesh wrapped
skeleton creaks and cracks,
from years of mashing muscles
inside his knotted back.
A piece of half rotten drift wood
became his cane.
The condition of his withered body
has been his bane.
Sitting down in his sun room
corner of cool shade,
he reads the morning
newspaper reminded of his old age.
The pages turn to obituaries
of so many men he used to call his friend.
Here he finds it hard to face
the faces of those who’ve reached their end.
He thinks of how times have
changed and...
skeleton creaks and cracks,
from years of mashing muscles
inside his knotted back.
A piece of half rotten drift wood
became his cane.
The condition of his withered body
has been his bane.
Sitting down in his sun room
corner of cool shade,
he reads the morning
newspaper reminded of his old age.
The pages turn to obituaries
of so many men he used to call his friend.
Here he finds it hard to face
the faces of those who’ve reached their end.
He thinks of how times have
changed and...
617 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Feb 2013 7:50pm
5th Feb 2013 7:50pm
Wrong #
She called me
crazy, Hell,
at least she's calling.
Never had a girl
keep the receiver from falling;
hung up
on her lips
like I was left with a dial tone.
No ringing in my ears,
silence;
still holding the telephone.
crazy, Hell,
at least she's calling.
Never had a girl
keep the receiver from falling;
hung up
on her lips
like I was left with a dial tone.
No ringing in my ears,
silence;
still holding the telephone.
597 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
28th Jan 2013 1:33am
28th Jan 2013 1:33am
Gold and Red
His pen has endured many tragic battles
in the dying of the last decade;
a mark of time on the barrel
of his blood stained weapon.
It's curves remind him of the women
he's lost along the treacherous way,
in finding an end
to rid him of love and decay.
Maybe this is why he writes,
so that someday when all is shown,
he can reflect back on what he left
behind and visit the graves
that he's passed on the way home.
Those tiny, little hearts he once held
so close to his own,
no warmth now to give from the ground,...
in the dying of the last decade;
a mark of time on the barrel
of his blood stained weapon.
It's curves remind him of the women
he's lost along the treacherous way,
in finding an end
to rid him of love and decay.
Maybe this is why he writes,
so that someday when all is shown,
he can reflect back on what he left
behind and visit the graves
that he's passed on the way home.
Those tiny, little hearts he once held
so close to his own,
no warmth now to give from the ground,...
620 reads
3 Comments
SONG LYRICS
Published
28th Jan 2013 1:31am
28th Jan 2013 1:31am
Crowned
1st verse:
I found myself at the bottom, couldn't get to the top/
so I started writing and rhyming, earned everything I got/
stood just a little bit taller in class, opened up every book/
flipped through the pages of life and took a closer look/
lost in this troubled state of mind I was livin in/
couldn't find a girl to share my heart with, I kept givin in/
to these drugs and these bottles I kept drownin in/
what else could I do but get lifted and sin/
so they labelled me and addict, smoke clouds so thick/
was never a high school jock, kept my...
I found myself at the bottom, couldn't get to the top/
so I started writing and rhyming, earned everything I got/
stood just a little bit taller in class, opened up every book/
flipped through the pages of life and took a closer look/
lost in this troubled state of mind I was livin in/
couldn't find a girl to share my heart with, I kept givin in/
to these drugs and these bottles I kept drownin in/
what else could I do but get lifted and sin/
so they labelled me and addict, smoke clouds so thick/
was never a high school jock, kept my...
745 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Ace_Avery (Clint Avery)
