Submissions by Six-Out (Jon Rodgers)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I'm me. These words, they're me as well. Welcome to my mind.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
3rd Jun 2013 6:34pm
3rd Jun 2013 6:34pm
coincidence.
there are so many cliches
about heartache
that it's hard to speak in anything
other than borrowed tongue
like the way a cigarette
doesn't dull the pain
but you light one
anyway.
in dark rooms
with orange light on smoke
the air is thicker than
whatever words she tosses my way
but I don't fill holes
with lies about who takes the blame
I just inhale
inhale.
about heartache
that it's hard to speak in anything
other than borrowed tongue
like the way a cigarette
doesn't dull the pain
but you light one
anyway.
in dark rooms
with orange light on smoke
the air is thicker than
whatever words she tosses my way
but I don't fill holes
with lies about who takes the blame
I just inhale
inhale.
985 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
27th Mar 2013 2:25pm
27th Mar 2013 2:25pm
she spoke silence.
she spoke silence.
she spoke of nothing
worth mentioning. she'd say.
lips held tight- she's too tense
for a whisper.
I'm convulsing. my fingers playing broken.ly
to sing sour notes. I
fall asleep like tidal waves
and she screams like sea salt.
sand base. her castle is in my pen.
so I like to forge miracles.
for her sins.
and she speaks pitch black ballet.
my eyes adjusting to her lack of luster in the sun.
while her beatbox.heart takes tips
in the form of.
falling apart in front of me.
and...
she spoke of nothing
worth mentioning. she'd say.
lips held tight- she's too tense
for a whisper.
I'm convulsing. my fingers playing broken.ly
to sing sour notes. I
fall asleep like tidal waves
and she screams like sea salt.
sand base. her castle is in my pen.
so I like to forge miracles.
for her sins.
and she speaks pitch black ballet.
my eyes adjusting to her lack of luster in the sun.
while her beatbox.heart takes tips
in the form of.
falling apart in front of me.
and...
1038 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
21st Aug 2012 1:59pm
21st Aug 2012 1:59pm
.combustion.
tick.
click. lighter-
flicker. to boom. on this
cigarette.
click. like a pen-
sent to write a poem. but
it's caught.
click. like a second hand-
spinning around a face to count
down.
click. like these keys
pounding letters to make hearts
faulter.
c.l.ick-
I can taste the smoke
in the air around this paper as
I write words that mean
absolutely nothing.
so I click.
this pen closed.
and hit
these keys.
to say
hold.
on.
tock.
click. lighter-
flicker. to boom. on this
cigarette.
click. like a pen-
sent to write a poem. but
it's caught.
click. like a second hand-
spinning around a face to count
down.
click. like these keys
pounding letters to make hearts
faulter.
c.l.ick-
I can taste the smoke
in the air around this paper as
I write words that mean
absolutely nothing.
so I click.
this pen closed.
and hit
these keys.
to say
hold.
on.
tock.
864 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
14th Aug 2012 3:07pm
14th Aug 2012 3:07pm
of dreams and things.
when words
fall from finger.tips
they spell out- her.
it's always [her]: in broken fragments.
trying to piece together
remnants of world- lived
behind eyelids while the world
sleeps.
to speak of her.
the way only dreams can.
when ink and paper
can't scream emptiness of my chest
when I wake up alone.
and understand that she
may be nothing more than
the bits and pieces
of everything
I could ever want.
so I sleep
each night; hoping to
catch a glimpse
of something real. in between
the movements...
fall from finger.tips
they spell out- her.
it's always [her]: in broken fragments.
trying to piece together
remnants of world- lived
behind eyelids while the world
sleeps.
to speak of her.
the way only dreams can.
when ink and paper
can't scream emptiness of my chest
when I wake up alone.
and understand that she
may be nothing more than
the bits and pieces
of everything
I could ever want.
so I sleep
each night; hoping to
catch a glimpse
of something real. in between
the movements...
943 reads
4 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
17th Jul 2012 5:01am
17th Jul 2012 5:01am
[tabs]
the way you lay
across my chest. when you sweat
my fingers drip up your legs.
leaving lines like
highways
tracing the trips
that my tongue will take.
while you ache.
body tense- baby
biting your sighs away
moans-
to the way you speak, words like 'sir'
and 'please'. breaking voice
between flustered heartbeat.
and the way your chest
rises. when I push.
pull.
you speak stutters.
like a record- breaking headboards.
with passion reserved
for love.
you pull- my thurst.
feel this sense of beautiful...
across my chest. when you sweat
my fingers drip up your legs.
leaving lines like
highways
tracing the trips
that my tongue will take.
while you ache.
body tense- baby
biting your sighs away
moans-
to the way you speak, words like 'sir'
and 'please'. breaking voice
between flustered heartbeat.
and the way your chest
rises. when I push.
pull.
you speak stutters.
like a record- breaking headboards.
with passion reserved
for love.
you pull- my thurst.
feel this sense of beautiful...
1130 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Jun 2012 3:49pm
5th Jun 2012 3:49pm
[a brief history of falling]
one six two seven.
i will never forget those numbers.
and the meaning they held
the way i walked down corridors
and painted pictures in my head of the what if.s
that circled around like literary tornados.
or the way i sat in that room.
waiting.
the way i became someone else's.
and the memories. they seem to be
distant films. in foreign language.
all i see are actions.
body language when my fingers ran-
down your back.
eyes- god those eyes.
when words
slipped between lips/ saying so much in three words.
and we...
i will never forget those numbers.
and the meaning they held
the way i walked down corridors
and painted pictures in my head of the what if.s
that circled around like literary tornados.
or the way i sat in that room.
waiting.
the way i became someone else's.
and the memories. they seem to be
distant films. in foreign language.
all i see are actions.
body language when my fingers ran-
down your back.
eyes- god those eyes.
when words
slipped between lips/ saying so much in three words.
and we...
1022 reads
5 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Jun 2012 1:00pm
5th Jun 2012 1:00pm
[ex]cited
one day, I will find the right words.
and they will be simple.
but simplicity never really worked
for someone like me, so I say
I love you- like a man loves a woman he never touches.
only writes to, keeps photographs of.
or, what did my arms do
before they held you.
and time is steady moving. I asked
how long I had you for
and you said -'it'll take you eternities to get rid of me'
and we both smiled at the irony.
of everything.
like these words.
and being alone never felt right.
sometimes it felt good- but it never felt right....
and they will be simple.
but simplicity never really worked
for someone like me, so I say
I love you- like a man loves a woman he never touches.
only writes to, keeps photographs of.
or, what did my arms do
before they held you.
and time is steady moving. I asked
how long I had you for
and you said -'it'll take you eternities to get rid of me'
and we both smiled at the irony.
of everything.
like these words.
and being alone never felt right.
sometimes it felt good- but it never felt right....
1344 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
27th Mar 2012 9:35pm
27th Mar 2012 9:35pm
noted. [speaking in tongues]
pounding.
that's the feeling I get when bass
hits temple. smoke clouds and whiskey
taste like battling beats with heart-thumps.
and I.
I breathe-out like guitar chords. [she] walks in
and I want to put ink to paper in the form of sharps and flats-
[she] makes me want to write her like a blues song.
and sing with the passion of 50 years
worth of heartache.
while I tap my foot. to the pounding.
of that feeling. when bass hits temple. and I feel her pulse
through me like words I want to sing at her.
against wall. her back like an...
that's the feeling I get when bass
hits temple. smoke clouds and whiskey
taste like battling beats with heart-thumps.
and I.
I breathe-out like guitar chords. [she] walks in
and I want to put ink to paper in the form of sharps and flats-
[she] makes me want to write her like a blues song.
and sing with the passion of 50 years
worth of heartache.
while I tap my foot. to the pounding.
of that feeling. when bass hits temple. and I feel her pulse
through me like words I want to sing at her.
against wall. her back like an...
1282 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
14th Mar 2012 1:10am
14th Mar 2012 1:10am
heavenly.
the way your legs.
tremble.
my lips speak soundwaves
down skin- you shiver.
and my hands play
piano notes
in the key of your whimper.
tracing lines from
beauty marks.
your skin is a song
that makes my tongue dance
along your polished thighs.
-tasting moments
that take breath away.
convulse.
with your hands
gripping my hair.
I'll speak words
that make you
taste
god.
and words that bring you back
down. to earth.
let those eyes roll back.
fall.
fall.
tremble.
my lips speak soundwaves
down skin- you shiver.
and my hands play
piano notes
in the key of your whimper.
tracing lines from
beauty marks.
your skin is a song
that makes my tongue dance
along your polished thighs.
-tasting moments
that take breath away.
convulse.
with your hands
gripping my hair.
I'll speak words
that make you
taste
god.
and words that bring you back
down. to earth.
let those eyes roll back.
fall.
fall.
1186 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
21st Feb 2012 3:04am
21st Feb 2012 3:04am
.devious
jesus.
the way her lips speak sin.
under watchful eye. breath.taking
I try to catch it-
and I can feel the fire.
burn, baby. the way she melts
down my fingertips.
I whisper hymns.
like the way these walls.
should come crumbling down
when her legs-
they shake.
dear lord.
so close to heaven.
the way her convulsing. makes me
want to speak to her thighs
in tongues.
on knees- in worship
of screams sent high. I swear
that I can taste forbidden fruit
when her hands pull hair.
I swear.
...
the way her lips speak sin.
under watchful eye. breath.taking
I try to catch it-
and I can feel the fire.
burn, baby. the way she melts
down my fingertips.
I whisper hymns.
like the way these walls.
should come crumbling down
when her legs-
they shake.
dear lord.
so close to heaven.
the way her convulsing. makes me
want to speak to her thighs
in tongues.
on knees- in worship
of screams sent high. I swear
that I can taste forbidden fruit
when her hands pull hair.
I swear.
...
1137 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Feb 2012 5:36am
6th Feb 2012 5:36am
bathroom.stall [graffiti]
ifyoucanseethis.
[I'm not dreaming]
I don't dream in technicolor
because I like my rain to be the same grey
as what seeps from me when I bleed.
so at least a tiny. little. part of me.
will feel like it's- somehow
sent from above.
and I sleep in metaphor.
scribbling my messages on bathroom stalls
so that the walls will scream.
my meaning and I live in voids and venues
of pointless and poignant. freedom
is born of black on white.
as I speak graffiti-esque. like pen.stained
romances. on the back of.
old text books....
[I'm not dreaming]
I don't dream in technicolor
because I like my rain to be the same grey
as what seeps from me when I bleed.
so at least a tiny. little. part of me.
will feel like it's- somehow
sent from above.
and I sleep in metaphor.
scribbling my messages on bathroom stalls
so that the walls will scream.
my meaning and I live in voids and venues
of pointless and poignant. freedom
is born of black on white.
as I speak graffiti-esque. like pen.stained
romances. on the back of.
old text books....
1033 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Feb 2012 6:43pm
5th Feb 2012 6:43pm
and the roses were polaroid.
when we parted
the skies were singing thunderstorm
operas. dressed in tidal waves- my fingers twitched
to the sound of her eyelids closing
on my shoulder.
and I am. fixation mounted on eyeglass.
testing cool water with the taste
of fire tongues and cocaine eyes.
and the rain.
it's pounding on my face. like pellets
of sand- the glass is protruding from my shirt pocket
and my heart is a few beats short of
a landslide. so I break breath like past tense jesus
but I'm splitting sand blowers
my rib cage could use a little painting....
the skies were singing thunderstorm
operas. dressed in tidal waves- my fingers twitched
to the sound of her eyelids closing
on my shoulder.
and I am. fixation mounted on eyeglass.
testing cool water with the taste
of fire tongues and cocaine eyes.
and the rain.
it's pounding on my face. like pellets
of sand- the glass is protruding from my shirt pocket
and my heart is a few beats short of
a landslide. so I break breath like past tense jesus
but I'm splitting sand blowers
my rib cage could use a little painting....
914 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by Six-Out (Jon Rodgers)
