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.
SELF POEM
Published
27th Jan 2013 5:32pm
27th Jan 2013 5:32pm
My Last
Empty pockets,
no star dust specs of luck
to cash in
on wishes and dreams.
They turned me into a monster;
a terrible fiend.
Lack of sleep,
bags under my eyes
shades like purple skies;
darkness in the ocean deep.
Burnt canary stained fingertips
holding on to a world of stronger trips.
Now,
you see things here, and you say,
‘Why?’
But I dream things that never were, and I say
“Why not ?”.
So I down this drink like it was my last,
and kill this roach off after the blast.
no star dust specs of luck
to cash in
on wishes and dreams.
They turned me into a monster;
a terrible fiend.
Lack of sleep,
bags under my eyes
shades like purple skies;
darkness in the ocean deep.
Burnt canary stained fingertips
holding on to a world of stronger trips.
Now,
you see things here, and you say,
‘Why?’
But I dream things that never were, and I say
“Why not ?”.
So I down this drink like it was my last,
and kill this roach off after the blast.
637 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
27th Jan 2013 5:24pm
27th Jan 2013 5:24pm
The Allure of Flesh and Art
In the snow,
winter white,
no fairy tales to be told,
she's a nightmare to boys
who haven't had their first
and a wet dream to those who thirst
for ink to fill their flesh.
A walking canvas
that will one day rot
like all of the other great art that's been hung
in galleries for years;
stared at like a gravestone
with whispers of remembrance.
We're addicted
to the act of expression;
art wherever
we can get a fix.
Paper, or flesh,
one carries blood loss and pain,
the other only ink.
winter white,
no fairy tales to be told,
she's a nightmare to boys
who haven't had their first
and a wet dream to those who thirst
for ink to fill their flesh.
A walking canvas
that will one day rot
like all of the other great art that's been hung
in galleries for years;
stared at like a gravestone
with whispers of remembrance.
We're addicted
to the act of expression;
art wherever
we can get a fix.
Paper, or flesh,
one carries blood loss and pain,
the other only ink.
565 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
17th Sep 2009 10:21pm
17th Sep 2009 10:21pm
Guillotine
I thought that love was absent
and no longer a part of my mind.
Why were they afraid of the hurt
caused by leaving me behind?
None of that seemed to matter
when they spoke words frozen in time .
A painting here,
a photograph there,
a few pages of verse
all so trivial to the equation set to rewind.
...kisses lost to fragmented memories
of times spent on arriving at the guillotine.
and no longer a part of my mind.
Why were they afraid of the hurt
caused by leaving me behind?
None of that seemed to matter
when they spoke words frozen in time .
A painting here,
a photograph there,
a few pages of verse
all so trivial to the equation set to rewind.
...kisses lost to fragmented memories
of times spent on arriving at the guillotine.
783 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
17th Sep 2009 10:19pm
17th Sep 2009 10:19pm
A First For Everything
The sign read “Exit”,
two lovers pushed through
wooden doors,
stumbling,
drunken legs,
arms around shoulders,
smiles on faces.
They began to walk,
she jumped
his back was her roller coaster
ride across the parking-lot.
Her thighs slipped under his finger tips,
a few steps,
they felt the falling.
A concrete caress
of a friendly shove,
enough to topple
the hunchback princess and prince.
The rush of liquor,
blood
shocked their bodies;
all he cared about was her safety.
His...
two lovers pushed through
wooden doors,
stumbling,
drunken legs,
arms around shoulders,
smiles on faces.
They began to walk,
she jumped
his back was her roller coaster
ride across the parking-lot.
Her thighs slipped under his finger tips,
a few steps,
they felt the falling.
A concrete caress
of a friendly shove,
enough to topple
the hunchback princess and prince.
The rush of liquor,
blood
shocked their bodies;
all he cared about was her safety.
His...
807 reads
1 Comment
DRUGS POEM
Published
7th Sep 2009 7:22am
7th Sep 2009 7:22am
Hangover Status
Wasted minutes,
wasting away in a room
awaiting to be wasted
by a bottle of waste
re-used by a race wasting
all they have had
and all they will ever own.
Sold, or bargained property
to sell their sobriety
for a night of wasted memories.
Stumbling over inebriated
sentences and observations making no sense
in a state of sickness.
Brown beer bottles drained
down the hatch of a bomb shelter
stomach containing it all inside
until its capacity is blown wide open.
A spoiled meal of mess in a urinal...
wasting away in a room
awaiting to be wasted
by a bottle of waste
re-used by a race wasting
all they have had
and all they will ever own.
Sold, or bargained property
to sell their sobriety
for a night of wasted memories.
Stumbling over inebriated
sentences and observations making no sense
in a state of sickness.
Brown beer bottles drained
down the hatch of a bomb shelter
stomach containing it all inside
until its capacity is blown wide open.
A spoiled meal of mess in a urinal...
900 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
2nd Sep 2009 11:44pm
2nd Sep 2009 11:44pm
A Dollar's Worth
I wait for her in the shining light,
the full moon,
its bright face
peering through the open window,
she enters our bedroom,
falling into my forgiving arms.
We stand silent,
staring into each others crying eyes;
tears stain the black marble floor.
Her trembling lips;
a hard passion left behind.
A familiar kiss that heals the wounds;
her whistled past.
So many shivering nights,
hunted by the predator after her
last dance.
Ravaged behind the alley,
raped of her free will,
tattered bills of...
the full moon,
its bright face
peering through the open window,
she enters our bedroom,
falling into my forgiving arms.
We stand silent,
staring into each others crying eyes;
tears stain the black marble floor.
Her trembling lips;
a hard passion left behind.
A familiar kiss that heals the wounds;
her whistled past.
So many shivering nights,
hunted by the predator after her
last dance.
Ravaged behind the alley,
raped of her free will,
tattered bills of...
731 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
2nd Sep 2009 11:42pm
2nd Sep 2009 11:42pm
A Blanket of Flesh
For so long I have sat
in this broken chair,
wood splintered
from the troublesome weight
of such burdens I hold
deep within my chest.
The sheer frailty of the chair’s legs
haunts me,
each moment drags on
and on;
I fear its last days of strength
have passed by
and all I shall be left with
is kindling for the fire.
My numb limbs will be
thawed in time
by the blaze inside my heart still
flickering.
I imagine I will sit here,
staring
into the embers to find a meaning
as to why my blood...
in this broken chair,
wood splintered
from the troublesome weight
of such burdens I hold
deep within my chest.
The sheer frailty of the chair’s legs
haunts me,
each moment drags on
and on;
I fear its last days of strength
have passed by
and all I shall be left with
is kindling for the fire.
My numb limbs will be
thawed in time
by the blaze inside my heart still
flickering.
I imagine I will sit here,
staring
into the embers to find a meaning
as to why my blood...
889 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Ace_Avery (Clint Avery)
