Submissions by Sublime
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
STORY POEM
Published
27th Jun 2012 3:32am
27th Jun 2012 3:32am
Holyman
Alone,
a man sits on his front porch,
his face hard and tanned as leather
eyes small and dark like olives
his smile long as a year
and the color of sketching paper.
he sits in his rocking chair
ugly and charming
calling to passing neighbors
and smoking a rare Marlboro Light
while one hand stroked the ugly
yellow cat on the lap of his
dirty jeans.
a pretty girl stared down at him
from her dirty bedroom window
and wondered aloud to her mama
why he ain't with a woman
"Why, he ain't worth a damn"...
a man sits on his front porch,
his face hard and tanned as leather
eyes small and dark like olives
his smile long as a year
and the color of sketching paper.
he sits in his rocking chair
ugly and charming
calling to passing neighbors
and smoking a rare Marlboro Light
while one hand stroked the ugly
yellow cat on the lap of his
dirty jeans.
a pretty girl stared down at him
from her dirty bedroom window
and wondered aloud to her mama
why he ain't with a woman
"Why, he ain't worth a damn"...
858 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
27th Jun 2012 3:02am
27th Jun 2012 3:02am
Under These Ill-Lit Skies
This place is irrevocably addicting
The smell of salt and sea
bears the fruits of memories
it is a picture
framed with tall grasses
and sand
and broken pavement
It fits like a shoe
a size too small
but it sprawls likes marbles
across a child's floor
This place is beautiful
The ocean calls to me
and it begs me
pleads me
to walk into it's cold depths
and never come out again
under these ill-lit skies.
The smell of salt and sea
bears the fruits of memories
it is a picture
framed with tall grasses
and sand
and broken pavement
It fits like a shoe
a size too small
but it sprawls likes marbles
across a child's floor
This place is beautiful
The ocean calls to me
and it begs me
pleads me
to walk into it's cold depths
and never come out again
under these ill-lit skies.
693 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Jun 2012 6:08am
24th Jun 2012 6:08am
Our Little Paper World
We are all paper people
destined for our paper futures
a delicate structure
only time can tell.
With paper bodies come
paper souls,
and from paper souls come
paper links
maybe I'm linked to you
but that's all that keeps me
from strangling you in your
sleep with your own socks
[God I hate your socks
you never take your socks off
not for sleep
not for sex
not for anything
is it too much
for me to ask you
to take your fucking
socks off once in a while?]
Maybe ...
destined for our paper futures
a delicate structure
only time can tell.
With paper bodies come
paper souls,
and from paper souls come
paper links
maybe I'm linked to you
but that's all that keeps me
from strangling you in your
sleep with your own socks
[God I hate your socks
you never take your socks off
not for sleep
not for sex
not for anything
is it too much
for me to ask you
to take your fucking
socks off once in a while?]
Maybe ...
906 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Jun 2012 5:51am
23rd Jun 2012 5:51am
A Sad Lack of Innocence
I'm an infant in a muck
of experience and toilet water.
I've seen shit I shouldn't have seen
shouldn't have done
shouldn't have heard
and now all I can say
is "fuck it" because
I'm slightly jaded,
yet still the pages of a book
come loose from their spine
hanging on by a few threads
sure
weak ones.
Maybe I know too much
and maybe I shouldn't have to deal
with this spew of psychotic integrity
but I do.
So drain me down.
I want my fucking innocence back.
of experience and toilet water.
I've seen shit I shouldn't have seen
shouldn't have done
shouldn't have heard
and now all I can say
is "fuck it" because
I'm slightly jaded,
yet still the pages of a book
come loose from their spine
hanging on by a few threads
sure
weak ones.
Maybe I know too much
and maybe I shouldn't have to deal
with this spew of psychotic integrity
but I do.
So drain me down.
I want my fucking innocence back.
778 reads
3 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
21st Jun 2012 1:50am
21st Jun 2012 1:50am
Roots
Delight,
she takes her wishes to
new heights
hands tangling in each other's hair
as she pushes him against a wave
of attraction
the now broken barriers of existence
the binding of two to one.
Rabid hands implore the shedding of one's clothes
as the smell of bleach slinks through the air
and the taste of summer
sweat and salt
she harvests with her lips
from his skin.
His touch is the voice of a
blues singer
as he burrows in all her curves
and cliffs
Her head is rock as it settles
in the...
she takes her wishes to
new heights
hands tangling in each other's hair
as she pushes him against a wave
of attraction
the now broken barriers of existence
the binding of two to one.
Rabid hands implore the shedding of one's clothes
as the smell of bleach slinks through the air
and the taste of summer
sweat and salt
she harvests with her lips
from his skin.
His touch is the voice of a
blues singer
as he burrows in all her curves
and cliffs
Her head is rock as it settles
in the...
914 reads
6 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
13th Jun 2012 1:36am
13th Jun 2012 1:36am
The Fantastic Mr. Sir
Obsess,
Class and clean
The Fantastic Mr. Sir
fantasticized me.
He read me poetry in a soft haze,
he did not drink to get drunk.
He listened to Pink Floyd,
and smoked marijuana with grace.
Indulge,
Lust consumed my mind
like Pac Man in his maze,
I erupted into the flames
of attraction-fueled infatuation.
I craved maturity,
a little hair on a man's chest,
And this need only the
Fantastic Mr. Sir
could satisfy.
Devour,
I was taken,
A stupid little girl
chasing her balloon...
Class and clean
The Fantastic Mr. Sir
fantasticized me.
He read me poetry in a soft haze,
he did not drink to get drunk.
He listened to Pink Floyd,
and smoked marijuana with grace.
Indulge,
Lust consumed my mind
like Pac Man in his maze,
I erupted into the flames
of attraction-fueled infatuation.
I craved maturity,
a little hair on a man's chest,
And this need only the
Fantastic Mr. Sir
could satisfy.
Devour,
I was taken,
A stupid little girl
chasing her balloon...
1037 reads
6 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
9th Jun 2012 10:04pm
9th Jun 2012 10:04pm
The Kiss of Life
A portion of my life
was like walking through a vast,
never-ending shadow,
the silhouette of a stone
that burdened me,
its weight crushing my shoulders.
I was withdrawn,
waiting for so long
for that one click that
would reduce the wound in my mind
to scar tissue.
I faded until I was a dim lightbulb,
hanging over a dusty chair
in a deserted cabin. I believed
no end to the internal pain and punishment
would bear itself to me,
and I was ready for the end.
But as I was feeling...
was like walking through a vast,
never-ending shadow,
the silhouette of a stone
that burdened me,
its weight crushing my shoulders.
I was withdrawn,
waiting for so long
for that one click that
would reduce the wound in my mind
to scar tissue.
I faded until I was a dim lightbulb,
hanging over a dusty chair
in a deserted cabin. I believed
no end to the internal pain and punishment
would bear itself to me,
and I was ready for the end.
But as I was feeling...
1007 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
4th Jun 2012 9:45pm
4th Jun 2012 9:45pm
Breakfast Table
It was at the breakfast table,
that we first touched lips,
tongues, cheekbones, chins
the moon, dripping and sad
invading the atramentous block
that was her kitchen.
My pink flesh probed hers,
curious, queer
so different than the kiss of a man
Desire, begging, question
fleeting sexuality
And we continued to kiss,
a fish feeding along the ocean floor,
Her mouth tasting of the slick,
glossy, artificial sheen that coated
her lips,
and mine tasting
of the words of sorrow and...
that we first touched lips,
tongues, cheekbones, chins
the moon, dripping and sad
invading the atramentous block
that was her kitchen.
My pink flesh probed hers,
curious, queer
so different than the kiss of a man
Desire, begging, question
fleeting sexuality
And we continued to kiss,
a fish feeding along the ocean floor,
Her mouth tasting of the slick,
glossy, artificial sheen that coated
her lips,
and mine tasting
of the words of sorrow and...
1064 reads
14 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
3rd Jun 2012 5:49am
3rd Jun 2012 5:49am
The Entrance, Exit, and Journey
Death is a doorway.
That is no mystery.
The question begs:
Is death an
entrance
or an exit?
Perhaps
It is an entrance,
to another universe,
A parallel of our life on earth.
Or maybe
it is an exit.
Means of escape,
If your being has caught fire.
But once the threshold of the fallen
is crossed
it terminates not only your existence
but all the others' too,
because once you are deleted
the rest of your life follows you.
Whether death is to enter or to exit,
We do know...
That is no mystery.
The question begs:
Is death an
entrance
or an exit?
Perhaps
It is an entrance,
to another universe,
A parallel of our life on earth.
Or maybe
it is an exit.
Means of escape,
If your being has caught fire.
But once the threshold of the fallen
is crossed
it terminates not only your existence
but all the others' too,
because once you are deleted
the rest of your life follows you.
Whether death is to enter or to exit,
We do know...
959 reads
13 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
2nd Jun 2012 11:16pm
2nd Jun 2012 11:16pm
Of Chaos and Reaction
It was not fate,
but two forces
that happened to coincide
in the center of a galaxy.
It was mere chance,
Two colliding lust calendars,
A tweak of existance
that resulted in a burst
of energy
of chaos.
But as everything else does,
function fades away
leaving us with only love
A forked road.
Remain in sync
or else we'll dissipate
because
love undoes love
as
love undoes us.
but two forces
that happened to coincide
in the center of a galaxy.
It was mere chance,
Two colliding lust calendars,
A tweak of existance
that resulted in a burst
of energy
of chaos.
But as everything else does,
function fades away
leaving us with only love
A forked road.
Remain in sync
or else we'll dissipate
because
love undoes love
as
love undoes us.
776 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
31st May 2012 10:17pm
31st May 2012 10:17pm
Dysfunction
I am
An empty vessel.
A dry reed,
upright
in an abandoned harbor.
I am
A doll.
Pure girl,
fun to play with.
Drop me,
and I will break.
An empty vessel.
A dry reed,
upright
in an abandoned harbor.
I am
A doll.
Pure girl,
fun to play with.
Drop me,
and I will break.
1343 reads
18 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Sublime
