Submissions by Atakti
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Turbulent waters ahead, sharks behind, shut up and paddle...
ANGER POEM
Published
27th Feb 2014 3:54pm
27th Feb 2014 3:54pm
Prayers from the Abyss
I prowled inside looping points of the compass
because this land is nowhere near wide enough
to contain the grit I have clenched in my jaw.
My patience glowed to a white hot fever
while I smoothed every last wrinkle from my plan.
Today, your tired sails drift into my realm…
The blood rushes to your head as I hold you
over the abyss — it whispers prayers of gratitude,
so listen well; words are the key, my will the lock.
My grip brands the lesson onto your throat
so others may repeat it back to you. The bile will rise...
because this land is nowhere near wide enough
to contain the grit I have clenched in my jaw.
My patience glowed to a white hot fever
while I smoothed every last wrinkle from my plan.
Today, your tired sails drift into my realm…
The blood rushes to your head as I hold you
over the abyss — it whispers prayers of gratitude,
so listen well; words are the key, my will the lock.
My grip brands the lesson onto your throat
so others may repeat it back to you. The bile will rise...
954 reads
23 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
26th Feb 2014 9:45pm
26th Feb 2014 9:45pm
In A Box
Tell me again, how I’ve got it wrong.
The liturgy plays endlessly in my head
but I’m sure you have your finger on it.
Tell me how my patience is transparent
with wear, and how I forget the milk.
I’m sure I meant to ride to work today…
Tell me the world is hard, and to grow
a thicker skin, for when they put the knives in.
I need epiphany in a box, so wrap it up to go.
The liturgy plays endlessly in my head
but I’m sure you have your finger on it.
Tell me how my patience is transparent
with wear, and how I forget the milk.
I’m sure I meant to ride to work today…
Tell me the world is hard, and to grow
a thicker skin, for when they put the knives in.
I need epiphany in a box, so wrap it up to go.
1088 reads
14 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
25th Feb 2014 2:23pm
25th Feb 2014 2:23pm
Devilish, sensuous
You want me…
to make you beg,
roughed up, cuffed
and more than sore…
I will instill in you
my… senses.
Oh, tense, tender
minutes burn.
Skin in silky tones,
murmuring murderous lust,
every inch yearns
for thrust, for sucked musk.
Less than merciful,
mistress of sinners
Devilish is…
delicious, stirred.
Tribute to the delicious Devilish... written for her comp
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poets/Devilish/
to make you beg,
roughed up, cuffed
and more than sore…
I will instill in you
my… senses.
Oh, tense, tender
minutes burn.
Skin in silky tones,
murmuring murderous lust,
every inch yearns
for thrust, for sucked musk.
Less than merciful,
mistress of sinners
Devilish is…
delicious, stirred.
Tribute to the delicious Devilish... written for her comp
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poets/Devilish/
1024 reads
6 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
21st Feb 2014 2:06pm
21st Feb 2014 2:06pm
No Eight Counts
He has confused baring himself
with misanthropy. He pins his own
struggles with a butterfly touch
then slams the case with a left hook.
If raw emotion could be swallowed
like an egg in a glass, he’d do it.
It would be a ticket only event,
front row blood spatter guaranteed.
Some will cheer him on, blows
solid in bruises. A few will curl
their lips. But all, with no exceptions,
want to witness the ‘making of’ —
the ‘breaking of’ even more so.
with misanthropy. He pins his own
struggles with a butterfly touch
then slams the case with a left hook.
If raw emotion could be swallowed
like an egg in a glass, he’d do it.
It would be a ticket only event,
front row blood spatter guaranteed.
Some will cheer him on, blows
solid in bruises. A few will curl
their lips. But all, with no exceptions,
want to witness the ‘making of’ —
the ‘breaking of’ even more so.
1071 reads
14 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Feb 2014 10:35pm
20th Feb 2014 10:35pm
Eleven, Intact
I climbed a tree and sat at the top
for hours. Legs numb, mind rattling
with broken marbles.
I scowled and yelled at withering
glances upwards. Most people walked
on, shaking their heads.
Dina, Mike and Pete found me,
looked up. I picked figs, nibbled,
giving them the finger.
They grinned and scrambled up.
Shortly after, Madame Bouchard lost
her hat to fig splats.
Mr Glanos had to run faster
for his bus. We laughed, choking
on tears, gasping
for breath. That day was one
of the...
for hours. Legs numb, mind rattling
with broken marbles.
I scowled and yelled at withering
glances upwards. Most people walked
on, shaking their heads.
Dina, Mike and Pete found me,
looked up. I picked figs, nibbled,
giving them the finger.
They grinned and scrambled up.
Shortly after, Madame Bouchard lost
her hat to fig splats.
Mr Glanos had to run faster
for his bus. We laughed, choking
on tears, gasping
for breath. That day was one
of the...
965 reads
20 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
19th Feb 2014 3:08pm
19th Feb 2014 3:08pm
Pinned questions on grief
I am nobody. I’m just an ant…”
The thought came unbidden, and I wasn’t sure if it made me feel
better or worse. It’s so much better seeing the big picture,
right? I paused, my eyes not quite focusing on the ceiling light
fixture as I lay staring upwards. A cool tear stopped its track
towards my ear in sympathy, and I explored the idea. A little ant
hasn’t got that many things to worry about, surely? And one ant
is hardly going to call the attention of the universe to it.
Then I remembered how much an ant is capable of carrying in
relation to its...
The thought came unbidden, and I wasn’t sure if it made me feel
better or worse. It’s so much better seeing the big picture,
right? I paused, my eyes not quite focusing on the ceiling light
fixture as I lay staring upwards. A cool tear stopped its track
towards my ear in sympathy, and I explored the idea. A little ant
hasn’t got that many things to worry about, surely? And one ant
is hardly going to call the attention of the universe to it.
Then I remembered how much an ant is capable of carrying in
relation to its...
1110 reads
13 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
12th Feb 2014 6:53pm
12th Feb 2014 6:53pm
I'm Out
Sure, lay it on the line,
tell me every last rule.
I need to know exactly
what I'm breaking.
Watch me shred the tome
that propped the door open,
the one that allowed every
other fucker's demon in.
My new look is "vicious bitch"
— step back for full effect.
Oh, sorry to miss your call,
leave a message at the click.
Don't bother thumping the wall
or leaning on the bell. I'm out,
pedal down, windows open,
eyes locked on the horizon.
tell me every last rule.
I need to know exactly
what I'm breaking.
Watch me shred the tome
that propped the door open,
the one that allowed every
other fucker's demon in.
My new look is "vicious bitch"
— step back for full effect.
Oh, sorry to miss your call,
leave a message at the click.
Don't bother thumping the wall
or leaning on the bell. I'm out,
pedal down, windows open,
eyes locked on the horizon.
1328 reads
22 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
9th Feb 2014 3:04pm
9th Feb 2014 3:04pm
The Long Wait
There’s a pressure behind me
but I've stopped turning around.
It’s the weight of a boulder at the end
of a climbing road, the one that leads me
to a dusty house.
I hear the spaces between the notes,
the interruptions of songs when static
chokes the air. Silence evades me,
seeking its own refuge from the salt
of wounds and tears.
Where do I go? Every place has transformed
into waiting platforms at stations devoid
of arrivals. The clocks spins in situ,
so I flip through calendar pages;
every square is...
but I've stopped turning around.
It’s the weight of a boulder at the end
of a climbing road, the one that leads me
to a dusty house.
I hear the spaces between the notes,
the interruptions of songs when static
chokes the air. Silence evades me,
seeking its own refuge from the salt
of wounds and tears.
Where do I go? Every place has transformed
into waiting platforms at stations devoid
of arrivals. The clocks spins in situ,
so I flip through calendar pages;
every square is...
1230 reads
23 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
8th Feb 2014 6:18pm
8th Feb 2014 6:18pm
If I drink it, will you go?
Shut up, shut up, I'm not listening.
Sixty times around now, and still
not what I want to hear. Enough
with the three am visits.
Yeah, there's a reason I stopped
picking up. Stop trying to trick
me with a false trail of breadcrumbs.
Your words still taste of acid
and your reasoning would tempt
a philosopher to the hemlock.
I think — you know what?
I'm done thinking. I'm better off
drinking this amnesiac brew
then punching through a few days
until you forget my address.
Rewind/erase never looked so good....
Sixty times around now, and still
not what I want to hear. Enough
with the three am visits.
Yeah, there's a reason I stopped
picking up. Stop trying to trick
me with a false trail of breadcrumbs.
Your words still taste of acid
and your reasoning would tempt
a philosopher to the hemlock.
I think — you know what?
I'm done thinking. I'm better off
drinking this amnesiac brew
then punching through a few days
until you forget my address.
Rewind/erase never looked so good....
1031 reads
20 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
3rd Feb 2014 6:17am
3rd Feb 2014 6:17am
The Child of Storms
You know I see you, child.
You bring and take with you
the ferocity of storms,
with the unblinking calm
in the central third eye.
No time for farewells, child.
Take the leather pouch, housing
this silver blade. It shines
its own version of reality,
lest you need to settle old debts.
The burden of each step weathers
you — poised on the blade, you
earn another layer of strength
or you break. Your own thoughts
can destroy you; follow the silence.
For each trail, there is a price.
This vial holds the...
You bring and take with you
the ferocity of storms,
with the unblinking calm
in the central third eye.
No time for farewells, child.
Take the leather pouch, housing
this silver blade. It shines
its own version of reality,
lest you need to settle old debts.
The burden of each step weathers
you — poised on the blade, you
earn another layer of strength
or you break. Your own thoughts
can destroy you; follow the silence.
For each trail, there is a price.
This vial holds the...
1144 reads
18 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
27th Jan 2014 9:40pm
27th Jan 2014 9:40pm
Nyla - Part one (working title)
Nyla hurried back along the beach dunes, her camera stuffed in her bag. She had risen early to capture the sunrise after giving up on sleep two hours earlier. It was just after six in the morning and her grandmother was expecting her at the bakery. It was the May festival this week and they were busy with extra orders, as well as a greater number of visitors from the mainland.
She stopped one last time on the path leading to the road, at the bend where the view of the water would be lost to beach grass and wooden posts. She didn’t have time to get the camera back out, to capture the...
She stopped one last time on the path leading to the road, at the bend where the view of the water would be lost to beach grass and wooden posts. She didn’t have time to get the camera back out, to capture the...
908 reads
14 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
24th Jan 2014 10:19pm
24th Jan 2014 10:19pm
Et sepelierunt ossa
Your breath is sharper than the snap
back of a whip, grasping in vain
for the bridle of your wild pulse.
Bare branches loom, eclipsing
moon-drenched clouds —
be still, the dire wolves howl.
Steel begets steel and true
swords may stay a man… These
beasts draw nearer for blood.
Your brother has fallen, neck
wrenched — no small victory
for the malefic trees, that reached
and slammed him from the saddle.
His horse rears, its reins snagged,
in their second stake for a...
back of a whip, grasping in vain
for the bridle of your wild pulse.
Bare branches loom, eclipsing
moon-drenched clouds —
be still, the dire wolves howl.
Steel begets steel and true
swords may stay a man… These
beasts draw nearer for blood.
Your brother has fallen, neck
wrenched — no small victory
for the malefic trees, that reached
and slammed him from the saddle.
His horse rears, its reins snagged,
in their second stake for a...
1576 reads
21 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Atakti
