Submissions by WhatIUsedToBe
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
angst and awe. abstract. It may not always make sense. It may not "flow" like you think it should. But how did it make you feel?
DARK POEM
Published
21st May 2014 2:31am
21st May 2014 2:31am
hawking
staggered sable curls
on an empty slated face
hearing her voice
and feeling my hand.
eyes that move all around
I'm prying from a mind
a last chance
with the name I can't speak
it falls dead at my feet
slithers up etched legs
that can't lift
a body
heavy and breathing.
a brushing caw
said he was getting better
falling out to see me
promising freedom
I climbed out the door
now he's tagged and chained
I won't be back at all
His remains in the day that I left him
on an empty slated face
hearing her voice
and feeling my hand.
eyes that move all around
I'm prying from a mind
a last chance
with the name I can't speak
it falls dead at my feet
slithers up etched legs
that can't lift
a body
heavy and breathing.
a brushing caw
said he was getting better
falling out to see me
promising freedom
I climbed out the door
now he's tagged and chained
I won't be back at all
His remains in the day that I left him
892 reads
8 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
9th Apr 2014 2:59am
9th Apr 2014 2:59am
refrain
Kiss me in the shadow of a burnt out star
And I’ll take you to my ancestor’s graves
Jump over the balcony
And look at me with parchment paper eyes-
It will never be that way
I’m here to be played.
Dissect my sentence
With well-placed disappearances
And count the spaces between sighs
I forgot the frustration
Of your communication
A plank in my gut
Splintered and pulling out
Like you could wait
And took the bait
I caught a tired routine
Of going nowhere
Again.
And I’ll take you to my ancestor’s graves
Jump over the balcony
And look at me with parchment paper eyes-
It will never be that way
I’m here to be played.
Dissect my sentence
With well-placed disappearances
And count the spaces between sighs
I forgot the frustration
Of your communication
A plank in my gut
Splintered and pulling out
Like you could wait
And took the bait
I caught a tired routine
Of going nowhere
Again.
1034 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
9th Apr 2014 1:48am
9th Apr 2014 1:48am
The candle is for movement
The sky behind the trees is darker than the room
Where I spend my life.
A subtract
To add to the quiet
White spindles hanging from my sides,
Pressed in my lap.
There are shoes,
The scarf
And a child snoring in the corner.
Three hearts press against the tapping window
Canaries cascade, each a different color, leading to a bell
Stiff and silent.
The chimes are outside.
Purple fingers framed behind
A green and yellow fantasy canvas of trying
And the piles of color, lens capped narcissism
Will be here...
Where I spend my life.
A subtract
To add to the quiet
White spindles hanging from my sides,
Pressed in my lap.
There are shoes,
The scarf
And a child snoring in the corner.
Three hearts press against the tapping window
Canaries cascade, each a different color, leading to a bell
Stiff and silent.
The chimes are outside.
Purple fingers framed behind
A green and yellow fantasy canvas of trying
And the piles of color, lens capped narcissism
Will be here...
854 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
4th Apr 2014 1:13am
4th Apr 2014 1:13am
trenzalore
fractal faces of you trick
older and silent
with a black brow of defeat,
it hangs heavy like a glass
in my hand, lead and cold.
you're too young
and I am not old enough
yet they have our past
the time runs down and out again,
but never in that same place.
it is for the best
a rusted wire
cutting at my conscience
is a false pardon
I will be here
dying like a whore
and you will still be too afraid to hold my hand.
...
older and silent
with a black brow of defeat,
it hangs heavy like a glass
in my hand, lead and cold.
you're too young
and I am not old enough
yet they have our past
the time runs down and out again,
but never in that same place.
it is for the best
a rusted wire
cutting at my conscience
is a false pardon
I will be here
dying like a whore
and you will still be too afraid to hold my hand.
...
837 reads
5 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
8th Feb 2014 3:06am
8th Feb 2014 3:06am
The Sound of Stabbing
There is a knife and it's resting.
Cool black ball in a read palm
double blade, "ting ting!"
hesitate and begin
a bit like a suck, a spongy muted squeak
stuttered tap hitting bone
pulls wet from this skin sleeve
Oh it weeps!
My darling red pearl babies,
from my heaving plank!
I'll press you to paper
seep to sleep and to stuck.
It is all pocked away
in the in and the out.
In the slick lisp of letting,
I can hear what was said.
Cool black ball in a read palm
double blade, "ting ting!"
hesitate and begin
a bit like a suck, a spongy muted squeak
stuttered tap hitting bone
pulls wet from this skin sleeve
Oh it weeps!
My darling red pearl babies,
from my heaving plank!
I'll press you to paper
seep to sleep and to stuck.
It is all pocked away
in the in and the out.
In the slick lisp of letting,
I can hear what was said.
830 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Jan 2014 10:29pm
6th Jan 2014 10:29pm
on being kept alive
time is stuck in a coil.
the snake is eating the tail of a rat
not choking
but stuffing meaningless energy
a life engulfed and bathing in acid.
I watch with perverse insight,
dragging lollipop shards across my wrist
the sticking and sugary mix
will thicken and they will lick
at a way to sustain
a circle
we ring around and play
watching them decay
a child at the kill switch
they can't reach it.
the snake is eating the tail of a rat
not choking
but stuffing meaningless energy
a life engulfed and bathing in acid.
I watch with perverse insight,
dragging lollipop shards across my wrist
the sticking and sugary mix
will thicken and they will lick
at a way to sustain
a circle
we ring around and play
watching them decay
a child at the kill switch
they can't reach it.
1074 reads
10 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
27th Dec 2013 7:10am
27th Dec 2013 7:10am
as without
the sun is a scarred lair
hidden in my skin.
the fire starts in the cold dead legs of winter.
veins full
sweet and drowning in blood
begging for letting
you and me find a way
through the winter
through betrayal
through family neck ties
tied tight around
my cold and soft
belly
your hand touched
the night we wouldn’t find morning
waking
feeling the crack in my eye
open
watching
your escape.
hidden in my skin.
the fire starts in the cold dead legs of winter.
veins full
sweet and drowning in blood
begging for letting
you and me find a way
through the winter
through betrayal
through family neck ties
tied tight around
my cold and soft
belly
your hand touched
the night we wouldn’t find morning
waking
feeling the crack in my eye
open
watching
your escape.
1017 reads
7 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Nov 2013 1:16am
16th Nov 2013 1:16am
under motion
slow enough not to blur
but going along so you don't really see
what is beneath
the length and lean,
with almost insectual precision-
pod to pavement
in snow and ceremonial rain
and in the sun
drying her wet and aching limbs
muscles flex and release in a rhythm
inspired by what takes time to perceive.
the urgency pressing behind
lurid and decisive eyes;
what injustice and iniquity
have not taken away
transforms and a tree grows from her left fist
quickening on the vernal equinox
no leaves
only the twisted...
but going along so you don't really see
what is beneath
the length and lean,
with almost insectual precision-
pod to pavement
in snow and ceremonial rain
and in the sun
drying her wet and aching limbs
muscles flex and release in a rhythm
inspired by what takes time to perceive.
the urgency pressing behind
lurid and decisive eyes;
what injustice and iniquity
have not taken away
transforms and a tree grows from her left fist
quickening on the vernal equinox
no leaves
only the twisted...
1100 reads
9 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
16th Nov 2013 00:50am
16th Nov 2013 00:50am
hypnagogic stranger
The dream is always to escape,
create the alternate place
I love the little mes at my knees
but still have the need
to feel that graze on my cheek
a crush of the lips, new and intimate
so tasteful in his grip
to feel the sending in
and coming out of another being
head on a blood filled beating chest
let him live for me in this reality,
I am dead to this waking world I see.
I cannot speak, my arms lay stiff-
cold puddy in the jar on the shelf
but just beneath-
In his arms, I eat dreamlets, hear the...
create the alternate place
I love the little mes at my knees
but still have the need
to feel that graze on my cheek
a crush of the lips, new and intimate
so tasteful in his grip
to feel the sending in
and coming out of another being
head on a blood filled beating chest
let him live for me in this reality,
I am dead to this waking world I see.
I cannot speak, my arms lay stiff-
cold puddy in the jar on the shelf
but just beneath-
In his arms, I eat dreamlets, hear the...
1197 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
8th Nov 2013 1:13am
8th Nov 2013 1:13am
chasing water
raindrops run down the black top
chasing bike tires and teardrops.
I wanted to grow up before you
but I always seem to be
someone not intended.
me.
your hair seems to grow faster
darker, thicker
fine.
I caught up in time
water running backward
laughter an arch in mind
I think I'll miss my heart the most.
as the birds start to fly around and around and into the ground.
chasing bike tires and teardrops.
I wanted to grow up before you
but I always seem to be
someone not intended.
me.
your hair seems to grow faster
darker, thicker
fine.
I caught up in time
water running backward
laughter an arch in mind
I think I'll miss my heart the most.
as the birds start to fly around and around and into the ground.
1042 reads
12 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Nov 2013 2:00am
6th Nov 2013 2:00am
linearis
prying pink clouds
lined with a thousand eyes
see me
unprotected in this flatland
unaffected in this mourning
numbing agent absent
organic numbness creeps
filling me
stuffed as a glove box.
I fall in spinning open air
rainbow speckled dust stinging and pocking
my face and hands
I hold myself like a monogram
never in the moment
never wanting this moment
anything to escape THIS moment
in the silence of the sketch.
lined with a thousand eyes
see me
unprotected in this flatland
unaffected in this mourning
numbing agent absent
organic numbness creeps
filling me
stuffed as a glove box.
I fall in spinning open air
rainbow speckled dust stinging and pocking
my face and hands
I hold myself like a monogram
never in the moment
never wanting this moment
anything to escape THIS moment
in the silence of the sketch.
910 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Nov 2013 1:50am
6th Nov 2013 1:50am
pretending
The dark pointing water erodes my lie.
glances wrap around my forearms
restricting black blood, coagulating the truth.
Our own Muncaster Castle
screams echo through Ravenglass
The Esk taunting and rising
my careful divergence
With a scarlet cape
and droves of mice and scorpions
I take my poison and wade to the other side.
The creatures drowning, an easy agony
to watch them cease to breathe
clinging and stinging, my flesh peeled
steeping in jasmine and release.
The chosen watch seated
with three thousand infected...
glances wrap around my forearms
restricting black blood, coagulating the truth.
Our own Muncaster Castle
screams echo through Ravenglass
The Esk taunting and rising
my careful divergence
With a scarlet cape
and droves of mice and scorpions
I take my poison and wade to the other side.
The creatures drowning, an easy agony
to watch them cease to breathe
clinging and stinging, my flesh peeled
steeping in jasmine and release.
The chosen watch seated
with three thousand infected...
831 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by WhatIUsedToBe
