Submissions by Indie (Miss Indie)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
human, quirky, dark.
A Portrait of Lies
They say a picture speaks a thousand words
and if I ever wrote a memoir based on my portrait
of here and now, it would lie a thousand lies.
Sad blue eyes in a pale face that has the hallmarks
of someone younger and truly innocent,
my addictions hidden from view that on other faces
scream of a life hard lived.
The plane of my nose a little too sharp, but all the better
to hold up the glasses I sparsely wear.
Take them away and I still get mistaken for 20
though I'm 7 years past it. Even bespectacled
take 3 years from the whole - I'm...
and if I ever wrote a memoir based on my portrait
of here and now, it would lie a thousand lies.
Sad blue eyes in a pale face that has the hallmarks
of someone younger and truly innocent,
my addictions hidden from view that on other faces
scream of a life hard lived.
The plane of my nose a little too sharp, but all the better
to hold up the glasses I sparsely wear.
Take them away and I still get mistaken for 20
though I'm 7 years past it. Even bespectacled
take 3 years from the whole - I'm...
896 reads
7 Comments
intravenous glass
It hit like seven years bad luck and bloody knuckles.
No one ever tells you about the glass shards
how they imbed themselves in and under the skin,
writing their way up your arms right to the elbow,
though it really depends
on how hard you punch the veil of reflection.
I fell face first into a wall of glass.
It left scars beneath my skin, jagged slices of nothing
to rub my blood stained fingers over in that pain-filled comfort
where addiction sometimes seems like a good idea.
And there always comes...
No one ever tells you about the glass shards
how they imbed themselves in and under the skin,
writing their way up your arms right to the elbow,
though it really depends
on how hard you punch the veil of reflection.
I fell face first into a wall of glass.
It left scars beneath my skin, jagged slices of nothing
to rub my blood stained fingers over in that pain-filled comfort
where addiction sometimes seems like a good idea.
And there always comes...
957 reads
7 Comments
Icing the sugar
The thought of talking to her
had my heart slamming itself
against its cage of ribs
like a wild bird trying to get out
Too many “what if's”
all my words glued to the inside of my throat
in awkward speechlessness
of not knowing the right thing to say
before we fell back
into that icing-sugar familiarity
dusting over the cracks in reality.
© Indie Adams 2012
had my heart slamming itself
against its cage of ribs
like a wild bird trying to get out
Too many “what if's”
all my words glued to the inside of my throat
in awkward speechlessness
of not knowing the right thing to say
before we fell back
into that icing-sugar familiarity
dusting over the cracks in reality.
© Indie Adams 2012
784 reads
8 Comments
Let me...
Your words... they came crashing down on me, like a Tsunami.
The current so strong... I almost forgot how to swim.” – SA
Let me stay broken in this place where fairy tales end,
my violence easy to bear when your words drift around me,
over me and through me on the currents of elsewhere,
of other women, in other beds, where I can haunt you
from afar.
Let me bed down with the fears of a lifetime
that I could pretend I never had before I felt your lips
upon my neck, whispering dreams into my ear
and down my spine in incomprehensible...
The current so strong... I almost forgot how to swim.” – SA
Let me stay broken in this place where fairy tales end,
my violence easy to bear when your words drift around me,
over me and through me on the currents of elsewhere,
of other women, in other beds, where I can haunt you
from afar.
Let me bed down with the fears of a lifetime
that I could pretend I never had before I felt your lips
upon my neck, whispering dreams into my ear
and down my spine in incomprehensible...
750 reads
2 Comments
f**king for the holy green
I remember eyes roaming over me
followed by the words, “I’d like to tap that”
and my automatic response of the evil eye
with an empty promise to myself
that I’d never go there, which was revoked
every time I worshiped the holy bong
and inhaled my way to wonderland.
Dead eyes in a rusting mirror.
I used to laugh at my own reflection
while for a second or two
I’d admire the pretty girl looking back
with ghosts in her eyes
that couldn’t really be me.
In the glare of sobriety I’d...
followed by the words, “I’d like to tap that”
and my automatic response of the evil eye
with an empty promise to myself
that I’d never go there, which was revoked
every time I worshiped the holy bong
and inhaled my way to wonderland.
Dead eyes in a rusting mirror.
I used to laugh at my own reflection
while for a second or two
I’d admire the pretty girl looking back
with ghosts in her eyes
that couldn’t really be me.
In the glare of sobriety I’d...
895 reads
14 Comments
between the walls of memory and stone
Her hands trembled with guilt
the faint tap of the rosary beads
loud in the silent room
her mumbled prayers heavy
on her disingenuous tongue
His memory flickered
at the edge of her terrified vision
as though he’d rise from his grave
and climb back into her bloodied bed
to finish what he’d started
Shadows crawled whisperingly
across the dust-encrusted walls
his voice fingering its way
up her spine and into her psyche
where it has belonged for so long
The...
the faint tap of the rosary beads
loud in the silent room
her mumbled prayers heavy
on her disingenuous tongue
His memory flickered
at the edge of her terrified vision
as though he’d rise from his grave
and climb back into her bloodied bed
to finish what he’d started
Shadows crawled whisperingly
across the dust-encrusted walls
his voice fingering its way
up her spine and into her psyche
where it has belonged for so long
The...
863 reads
14 Comments
While Dreaming of Bacardi
All it takes is a moment where instinct fails
and stupidity prevails - a drink toasted
against my traitorous lips to drag me languidly
back into the gutter where tears always fall
after the laughter dies somewhere high
in my chest cavity, suffocated by the beating
of my heart that seems to think love
has a cock attached to the end of it
(as though I’m living in Disney’s Aladdin)
and if I rub it hard enough a genie will pour forth
its ageless wisdom and grant me three wishes
one of which would be heterosexuality
that always ends with the...
and stupidity prevails - a drink toasted
against my traitorous lips to drag me languidly
back into the gutter where tears always fall
after the laughter dies somewhere high
in my chest cavity, suffocated by the beating
of my heart that seems to think love
has a cock attached to the end of it
(as though I’m living in Disney’s Aladdin)
and if I rub it hard enough a genie will pour forth
its ageless wisdom and grant me three wishes
one of which would be heterosexuality
that always ends with the...
896 reads
8 Comments
the art of stick dyslexia
I never learnt to drive stick properly
considering I was drunk 99.9% of the times
anyone bothered to get out it and guide me away
from wherever it was I planned on going
‘cause I never once reached my destination
While I’ve always been manually dyslexic
when it comes to riding on things other girls drool over
ohh’ing and ahh’ing at the latest shiny toy
hot out on the market ‘cause every girl wants
a model with a body like that… right?
It took a while to...
considering I was drunk 99.9% of the times
anyone bothered to get out it and guide me away
from wherever it was I planned on going
‘cause I never once reached my destination
While I’ve always been manually dyslexic
when it comes to riding on things other girls drool over
ohh’ing and ahh’ing at the latest shiny toy
hot out on the market ‘cause every girl wants
a model with a body like that… right?
It took a while to...
945 reads
15 Comments
Slip Knot
You're the slip knot around my neck
another ghost to violate my bed
with could-have-been's
and should-have-been's
that unravelled in the details
of a story that will forever remain untold
© Indie Adams 2012
another ghost to violate my bed
with could-have-been's
and should-have-been's
that unravelled in the details
of a story that will forever remain untold
© Indie Adams 2012
1126 reads
13 Comments
somewhere out of here (on the other side)
We transcend words in the silent invocation of disappointment
our reflections - memories of the bruises we once wore in triumph
refuting our own stupidity while chasing some imperfect high
that never lasted more than a whisper before we combusted
under our own intensity
A burnt out car on the highway a crumbling monument
to driving drunk and singing loudly that we’d fuck the world
in latex body suits for our own protection
because “who knows what you’ll pick up
out there?”
While we never made it further than the road block
at the...
our reflections - memories of the bruises we once wore in triumph
refuting our own stupidity while chasing some imperfect high
that never lasted more than a whisper before we combusted
under our own intensity
A burnt out car on the highway a crumbling monument
to driving drunk and singing loudly that we’d fuck the world
in latex body suits for our own protection
because “who knows what you’ll pick up
out there?”
While we never made it further than the road block
at the...
782 reads
8 Comments
the familiarity of friendship
I’ve known her so long, that it’s become too easy
to shatter myself into vulnerable pieces on her kitchen floor
and lay bare the darkest shadows of my soul without judgment
because I know the darkness she cannot show the sunshine world
and I don’t care that her scars almost match mine
she’s more beautiful for all her dysfunctions
And when the trust-ties crumble, she’s the only one left
that didn’t trade their loyalty for sex and a packet of cigarettes
on the boat of friendship that always seems to be sinking
somewhere with someone that used...
to shatter myself into vulnerable pieces on her kitchen floor
and lay bare the darkest shadows of my soul without judgment
because I know the darkness she cannot show the sunshine world
and I don’t care that her scars almost match mine
she’s more beautiful for all her dysfunctions
And when the trust-ties crumble, she’s the only one left
that didn’t trade their loyalty for sex and a packet of cigarettes
on the boat of friendship that always seems to be sinking
somewhere with someone that used...
851 reads
10 Comments
over and under
We’ve long lost the right
to peek into each other’s heads
when we don’t know each other anymore
our faces, strangers in the bathroom mirror
failing to meet in a once knowing gaze
While sometimes I still wonder
what must be clicking over, under
and through your mind
during the tormented nights you talk
to the walls in your sleep
fingers clutched tightly
around your childhood teddy bear
And I watch like a ghost
from the opposite side of the bed
though I’m not yet dead
at least not on the outside
© Indie Adams...
to peek into each other’s heads
when we don’t know each other anymore
our faces, strangers in the bathroom mirror
failing to meet in a once knowing gaze
While sometimes I still wonder
what must be clicking over, under
and through your mind
during the tormented nights you talk
to the walls in your sleep
fingers clutched tightly
around your childhood teddy bear
And I watch like a ghost
from the opposite side of the bed
though I’m not yet dead
at least not on the outside
© Indie Adams...
743 reads
12 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Indie (Miss Indie)