Submissions by innileika (Silvja Weiss)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
just the average run of the mill person. i just spend too much time writing incomplete processes of shorts and too many song lyrics to do anything with.
DARK POEM
Published
22nd Oct 2018 9:27am
22nd Oct 2018 9:27am
the magpie
I drove hard
and as fast
as I could.
back to an empty home
where boxes sat unpacked
filling my room
from edge to edge,
sitting and waiting
in packing tape
to tip and spill over.
140 km/hr.
the truck ahead escapes my gaze
as a small magpie
screams
wings flattened to the pavement
as it mind tries to escape it
and fails.
I contemplate turning back
to finish the job
but instead cry for an hour
and cross the threshold to our home.
we've moved since then,
but the tape...
and as fast
as I could.
back to an empty home
where boxes sat unpacked
filling my room
from edge to edge,
sitting and waiting
in packing tape
to tip and spill over.
140 km/hr.
the truck ahead escapes my gaze
as a small magpie
screams
wings flattened to the pavement
as it mind tries to escape it
and fails.
I contemplate turning back
to finish the job
but instead cry for an hour
and cross the threshold to our home.
we've moved since then,
but the tape...
#utopia
480 reads
0 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
30th Jun 2015 5:30am
30th Jun 2015 5:30am
A broken word
It's been so long
I cannot tell
If there is anything left to be said,
Or perhaps that I betray the vow of silence
To merely reaffirm
And reconnect
The memories that I refuse to let settle
And fade,
Like an aging photo that I forgot
In my rear window.
I used to fold
One of you
And another of me
And place them side by side
To see how it was we would look...
And
I'm not sure what that meant,
And I'm not sure what this means...
I'm not sure.
I cannot tell
If there is anything left to be said,
Or perhaps that I betray the vow of silence
To merely reaffirm
And reconnect
The memories that I refuse to let settle
And fade,
Like an aging photo that I forgot
In my rear window.
I used to fold
One of you
And another of me
And place them side by side
To see how it was we would look...
And
I'm not sure what that meant,
And I'm not sure what this means...
I'm not sure.
867 reads
0 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
24th Mar 2014 3:20pm
24th Mar 2014 3:20pm
a thought after being dead behind the eyes
Sometimes the words just come to me, in constant ebb, an unbroken chain of my fragmented sentences. Contradictory. I am always contradicting myself.
I would never venture to say that what I have to say doesn’t make sense, as to myself, everything I have ever said or written is true, granted, my diction translated poorly, and the command of the English language escapes me. The thoughts just come in rapid fire, and I can feel the power behind them, the truth encompassed in a construction of letters that form the words.
I love you.
Of course those are the three I go to.
Cliché,...
I would never venture to say that what I have to say doesn’t make sense, as to myself, everything I have ever said or written is true, granted, my diction translated poorly, and the command of the English language escapes me. The thoughts just come in rapid fire, and I can feel the power behind them, the truth encompassed in a construction of letters that form the words.
I love you.
Of course those are the three I go to.
Cliché,...
719 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
21st Nov 2013 8:19am
21st Nov 2013 8:19am
Publicaly unpublicated
The choices I've made
Led me to the dark pit
Where the other choices are made blind
And evoke emotions
That are unfit,
But they're still so deafening
That I can't hear my comrade,
A gun shot
Goes off
But I convince myself
It's
Not
That
Bad.
And I see their lips move
In painful twinges
Of
Suffering
Of
Guilt,
Cemented frames of gums
To my drums
Playing out walls they've built.
I see their brows furrow
And watch my unhelpful words pull;
I only dare to kiss them
To the very moment until...
Led me to the dark pit
Where the other choices are made blind
And evoke emotions
That are unfit,
But they're still so deafening
That I can't hear my comrade,
A gun shot
Goes off
But I convince myself
It's
Not
That
Bad.
And I see their lips move
In painful twinges
Of
Suffering
Of
Guilt,
Cemented frames of gums
To my drums
Playing out walls they've built.
I see their brows furrow
And watch my unhelpful words pull;
I only dare to kiss them
To the very moment until...
705 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
29th Mar 2013 7:53am
29th Mar 2013 7:53am
liquor store run
the other day i went to the liquor store
to buy some alcohol
with the last 20 dollar bill i had in my pocket.
a man across the street
sat bound to his wheel chair by his one leg,
trying to flag me down.
"come here!" he slurred, swinging his arm wildly,
beckoning me to his side.
"i've got places to be, man, got things to do!" i lied,
throwing his greeting back to him in a salutation.
frustrated and defiant, he began to wheel over to me,
tipping onto the concrete on his way
as he rolled off of the curb. ...
to buy some alcohol
with the last 20 dollar bill i had in my pocket.
a man across the street
sat bound to his wheel chair by his one leg,
trying to flag me down.
"come here!" he slurred, swinging his arm wildly,
beckoning me to his side.
"i've got places to be, man, got things to do!" i lied,
throwing his greeting back to him in a salutation.
frustrated and defiant, he began to wheel over to me,
tipping onto the concrete on his way
as he rolled off of the curb. ...
729 reads
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DRUGS POEM
Published
21st Mar 2013 6:01am
21st Mar 2013 6:01am
getting trips
Life spent
In cupped hands
Waiting for
The opportune chance…
The next round,
I will surely win,
I hold my
Breath
And bite my
Lip.
The stones that roll
Without moss
And grit,
Marked on every
Back,
Face,
and
Front,
Numbers
Through
1,
5,
and
Six.
With pockets emptied
With little more
Than thoughts,
I cant help but think
Of more rolls than
Not,
That it was easy
To gamble
My dignity,
My name,
My body,
My time,
But when you placed your dice
In my...
In cupped hands
Waiting for
The opportune chance…
The next round,
I will surely win,
I hold my
Breath
And bite my
Lip.
The stones that roll
Without moss
And grit,
Marked on every
Back,
Face,
and
Front,
Numbers
Through
1,
5,
and
Six.
With pockets emptied
With little more
Than thoughts,
I cant help but think
Of more rolls than
Not,
That it was easy
To gamble
My dignity,
My name,
My body,
My time,
But when you placed your dice
In my...
669 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
12th Mar 2013 11:58am
12th Mar 2013 11:58am
For the sake of writing after a nightmare
Projecting my mistakes,
Exchanging each one
Like scrolling slides
Upon an others white washed walls,
Now I must question
If I’m the damaged one
Or the one inflicting harm
The entire time after all?
Loose skin
And it’s baby teeth,
Carless lips
Their youth and secrets
That I’ve failed to keep.
Innocence
And it’s slippery slope
Between times divide
On one side truth
The other
hope.
Old stories
Found in dusty boxes
Abandoned in aged
And vacant homes,
Are these tales
Mine, ...
Exchanging each one
Like scrolling slides
Upon an others white washed walls,
Now I must question
If I’m the damaged one
Or the one inflicting harm
The entire time after all?
Loose skin
And it’s baby teeth,
Carless lips
Their youth and secrets
That I’ve failed to keep.
Innocence
And it’s slippery slope
Between times divide
On one side truth
The other
hope.
Old stories
Found in dusty boxes
Abandoned in aged
And vacant homes,
Are these tales
Mine, ...
675 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2013 1:15pm
23rd Feb 2013 1:15pm
extremes
the sinister,
the false,
the world and its writer.
the mad,
the sane,
the asylum and its martyr's.
constant adjusting,
collection of proof
from a tongue tied too loose,
formulating an accusation,
ultimatums and their presentation...
when will we see
that it's best to let it be?
i wake up and can't help
that perhaps i should just sleep...
hang the drapes and fall back asleep
because most days it just seems
I'm enslaved to my passion
or infatuated with my apathy.
the false,
the world and its writer.
the mad,
the sane,
the asylum and its martyr's.
constant adjusting,
collection of proof
from a tongue tied too loose,
formulating an accusation,
ultimatums and their presentation...
when will we see
that it's best to let it be?
i wake up and can't help
that perhaps i should just sleep...
hang the drapes and fall back asleep
because most days it just seems
I'm enslaved to my passion
or infatuated with my apathy.
637 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th Jan 2013 7:10am
16th Jan 2013 7:10am
the stumble of shame
when the world seems so small
that all your problems feel so big
the line becomes fine inbetween
the life you want and the one that you live.
So i drink my drinks
and try to close my eyes,
order another round of
"another for what i love, a couple more for what i despise."
Cause' i've got a ton of beds to make
so I can stop lying in my own
to prove that mine was made for you
or that i deserve to sleep alone...
and this bedroom
looks more empty than i've ever seen it before
my thoughts speak only to...
that all your problems feel so big
the line becomes fine inbetween
the life you want and the one that you live.
So i drink my drinks
and try to close my eyes,
order another round of
"another for what i love, a couple more for what i despise."
Cause' i've got a ton of beds to make
so I can stop lying in my own
to prove that mine was made for you
or that i deserve to sleep alone...
and this bedroom
looks more empty than i've ever seen it before
my thoughts speak only to...
729 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Jan 2013 9:46am
6th Jan 2013 9:46am
Bedroom Wars
I was wondering
Why I was fighting off sleep
Tonight.
Why I was sleeping on the couch
The night before,
The night before that.
The night I sleep in a bed
That is built for more than a single
Is the night
I start fighting the war
Against phantoms
That know not physical wounds
And only psychological war fare.
The skeleton in the closet
Which has the broken door,
Mocks me
For the empty space
That was filled only days previous,
Knowing very well
That he is naked
In a wardrobe.
Funny how that...
Why I was fighting off sleep
Tonight.
Why I was sleeping on the couch
The night before,
The night before that.
The night I sleep in a bed
That is built for more than a single
Is the night
I start fighting the war
Against phantoms
That know not physical wounds
And only psychological war fare.
The skeleton in the closet
Which has the broken door,
Mocks me
For the empty space
That was filled only days previous,
Knowing very well
That he is naked
In a wardrobe.
Funny how that...
804 reads
3 Comments
SONG LYRICS
Published
6th Jan 2013 7:37am
6th Jan 2013 7:37am
PermaFrost
The darkness of this hallway
Has been interrupted
By an illumination
Of a light
Flipped on by another’s hand,
Grasping into the faintness
That I never tried to fight.
Looking around
I see a loneliness
That I never knew was there
Until once phantom walls
Caught me a partner in their snare
At last I am no lone traveler,
But we’re surrounded by yellow wood;
An autumn that never seems to fade
Despite how much we wish it could.
This path
Makes the very difference;
The fine lines
Between Left and...
Has been interrupted
By an illumination
Of a light
Flipped on by another’s hand,
Grasping into the faintness
That I never tried to fight.
Looking around
I see a loneliness
That I never knew was there
Until once phantom walls
Caught me a partner in their snare
At last I am no lone traveler,
But we’re surrounded by yellow wood;
An autumn that never seems to fade
Despite how much we wish it could.
This path
Makes the very difference;
The fine lines
Between Left and...
704 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
2nd Jan 2013 1:49am
2nd Jan 2013 1:49am
i'd like to say i know you
You’re not quite next to me yet,
Even still
I predict your movement.
Casually you walk in through the door,
Arbitrarily you dismount the light
And say your polite hello.
You are quiet,
But not silent.
You sit next to me.
We share a look
That pays forward
To a debt
That I could never afford to owe.
You are silent
But not at all quiet.
This tender exchanges
In these tender exchanges…
You sit next to me.
I look at you,
And I am swearing oaths:
I’m so silent,
I’m so quiet,
I’m so broke,
I’m so...
Even still
I predict your movement.
Casually you walk in through the door,
Arbitrarily you dismount the light
And say your polite hello.
You are quiet,
But not silent.
You sit next to me.
We share a look
That pays forward
To a debt
That I could never afford to owe.
You are silent
But not at all quiet.
This tender exchanges
In these tender exchanges…
You sit next to me.
I look at you,
And I am swearing oaths:
I’m so silent,
I’m so quiet,
I’m so broke,
I’m so...
728 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by innileika (Silvja Weiss)
