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.
SELF POEM
Published
29th Dec 2012 7:03pm
29th Dec 2012 7:03pm
Touching the Tabernacle
These thoughts are draining,
Elements that swirl around the vortex
In a maelstrom that only knows successions
Of Use,
Discard,
And treatment.
These realizations wash over me
Deterging away the guilt and blame,
Expiation of my hands,
Desperately trying to seek an absolution,
Grasping at catharsis that is found
Only to be lost too easily to the basin.
The pipes plug too often
In this house,
And the water sits polluted
For me to take a solid look
At the...
Elements that swirl around the vortex
In a maelstrom that only knows successions
Of Use,
Discard,
And treatment.
These realizations wash over me
Deterging away the guilt and blame,
Expiation of my hands,
Desperately trying to seek an absolution,
Grasping at catharsis that is found
Only to be lost too easily to the basin.
The pipes plug too often
In this house,
And the water sits polluted
For me to take a solid look
At the...
745 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
7th Dec 2012 8:41am
7th Dec 2012 8:41am
ambiguity of finite
We are definitions
Of a name,
Of a face.
Identities
Leaving traces
Of ourselves
In garbage cans,
Tolite's,
Just Words tossed carelessly
In hello's and embrace.
Our fingerprints
Hold a past,
A almost invisable proof
That we once touched
And held something
Tangible.
We often forget
The power of touch,
A face,
A name,
And the power they hold in the world.
Sometimes I find myself asking
"Who am I?"
I'm what you see,
I'm what I know.
I'm a face and a name that ages,
I am...
Of a name,
Of a face.
Identities
Leaving traces
Of ourselves
In garbage cans,
Tolite's,
Just Words tossed carelessly
In hello's and embrace.
Our fingerprints
Hold a past,
A almost invisable proof
That we once touched
And held something
Tangible.
We often forget
The power of touch,
A face,
A name,
And the power they hold in the world.
Sometimes I find myself asking
"Who am I?"
I'm what you see,
I'm what I know.
I'm a face and a name that ages,
I am...
658 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Dec 2012 7:34pm
5th Dec 2012 7:34pm
To Save a Soul
Are we dual, physical, or merely an ideal?
Are we separate entities that live intrinsically,
Damning one another,
Damning ourselves?
Or are we bodies,
And although fantastic,
Although capable,
Designed merely to feel, to act, to breathe
And slowly stifle these,
To decompose
And Die,
in body and name,
When the photo’s and memories fade?
Or perhaps we exist
Beyond the materials we imbue,
Bouncing of one another
Like idea’s
That have no real meaning
Outside the flesh containers
Our minds...
Are we separate entities that live intrinsically,
Damning one another,
Damning ourselves?
Or are we bodies,
And although fantastic,
Although capable,
Designed merely to feel, to act, to breathe
And slowly stifle these,
To decompose
And Die,
in body and name,
When the photo’s and memories fade?
Or perhaps we exist
Beyond the materials we imbue,
Bouncing of one another
Like idea’s
That have no real meaning
Outside the flesh containers
Our minds...
662 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Dec 2012 7:03pm
5th Dec 2012 7:03pm
defining youth
i remember my mother telling me
"enjoy being young, you'll miss it when its gone."
so i resolved to never grow up.
time has passed
and looking back at
old words,
ex-lovers,
scars,
laugh lines,
and tombstones
i realize that loss of youth is inevitable
and loss of innocence
occurred long before
i realized what it was
not unlike
a family friend
you saw once or twice
when you were little
only to find
an obituary in the paper.
i sip my coffee
and salute my youth
while i sit with my foolishness...
"enjoy being young, you'll miss it when its gone."
so i resolved to never grow up.
time has passed
and looking back at
old words,
ex-lovers,
scars,
laugh lines,
and tombstones
i realize that loss of youth is inevitable
and loss of innocence
occurred long before
i realized what it was
not unlike
a family friend
you saw once or twice
when you were little
only to find
an obituary in the paper.
i sip my coffee
and salute my youth
while i sit with my foolishness...
596 reads
0 Comments
SONG LYRICS
Published
5th Dec 2012 8:04am
5th Dec 2012 8:04am
Reply to Letting Go
I wrote every word down
So it could always be plainly seen
All the ones i failed to live by,
what i thought you wanted from me.
After all of this time,
as the last grain slips off the waist of the glass
our present has finally
developed its very own past.
I bet they're all asking
"When will the ever learn"
All i have to say is that
"the stove no longer burns."
I'm not asking you to wait
Just begging you to stay,
to please take my hand
If you choose to walk away.
Tell me how I am,
Always...
So it could always be plainly seen
All the ones i failed to live by,
what i thought you wanted from me.
After all of this time,
as the last grain slips off the waist of the glass
our present has finally
developed its very own past.
I bet they're all asking
"When will the ever learn"
All i have to say is that
"the stove no longer burns."
I'm not asking you to wait
Just begging you to stay,
to please take my hand
If you choose to walk away.
Tell me how I am,
Always...
756 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
2nd Dec 2012 2:33pm
2nd Dec 2012 2:33pm
the puzzle
love,
right now
i want you to know
that i hate every ribbon of myself
for not being able
to shred the sentences
to the words
you need to hear.
if i told you
that you needed to
you could
probably piece this together
and when you did
take a stance
on what i am
in relativity
to you.
in truth
i cant see
what is is
that WE
will be.
years in shutter-vision
perhaps,
or bullets
unfired.
have i broken you?
ive broken me.
your shots are all i hear,
all i smell
taste,
believe.
...
right now
i want you to know
that i hate every ribbon of myself
for not being able
to shred the sentences
to the words
you need to hear.
if i told you
that you needed to
you could
probably piece this together
and when you did
take a stance
on what i am
in relativity
to you.
in truth
i cant see
what is is
that WE
will be.
years in shutter-vision
perhaps,
or bullets
unfired.
have i broken you?
ive broken me.
your shots are all i hear,
all i smell
taste,
believe.
...
711 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
1st Nov 2012 6:03am
1st Nov 2012 6:03am
the death of Poppy Feldt
A passion so fierce that it burns like fire,
A shadow of love cast by desire.
It turns its shoulders
And hides its face,
This feeling is cold to the touch
And bitter to the taste.
Time cannot mend this
Broken heart;
A dull needle and a fragile thread
That's only bound
To fall apart.
I've been Digging shallow graves,
Using Dirty nails
And hollow hearted facets.
Spending my days
Mending failures,
Building caskets
There's a head stone
Missing a name
And a date.
I lie with you there ...
A shadow of love cast by desire.
It turns its shoulders
And hides its face,
This feeling is cold to the touch
And bitter to the taste.
Time cannot mend this
Broken heart;
A dull needle and a fragile thread
That's only bound
To fall apart.
I've been Digging shallow graves,
Using Dirty nails
And hollow hearted facets.
Spending my days
Mending failures,
Building caskets
There's a head stone
Missing a name
And a date.
I lie with you there ...
627 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
25th Oct 2012 10:41pm
25th Oct 2012 10:41pm
every city has a helen
The hostile take over
Of my brain
Is exactly
As I imbue it to be,
Embossed in rubies cut from blood,
And the streets
That still seem to run red
With yours,
Circulating through my body
As though you never left.
You linger here
In violent ashes
Of this city you've burned
Blinding those
To the beauty
And freedom that lay
Beyond its limits.
Its a dark place
Where our hopes
And promises
Go to die.
You broke this,
Robbed the citizens
Of the shelter
That your presence provided,
Your smile that once...
Of my brain
Is exactly
As I imbue it to be,
Embossed in rubies cut from blood,
And the streets
That still seem to run red
With yours,
Circulating through my body
As though you never left.
You linger here
In violent ashes
Of this city you've burned
Blinding those
To the beauty
And freedom that lay
Beyond its limits.
Its a dark place
Where our hopes
And promises
Go to die.
You broke this,
Robbed the citizens
Of the shelter
That your presence provided,
Your smile that once...
695 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Aug 2012 5:42am
16th Aug 2012 5:42am
The Murder
A murder of crows
Weaved in between the birch,
Coming to claim the slaughter
That was not their own.
Scavenging,
Searching,
In a thirst that could not be quenched
By just flesh
And blood alone.
A small child lay there,
Proven mortal.
A chill fell as they
Descended upon him,
Hauntingly it hung
In the sickly sweet and thick air.
His small form
Although beaten,
Broken,
and torn,
Remained still and peaceful
As the flock ravaged
His once soft and milky skin,
Taking even the oil coloured flesh,
Shreds of...
Weaved in between the birch,
Coming to claim the slaughter
That was not their own.
Scavenging,
Searching,
In a thirst that could not be quenched
By just flesh
And blood alone.
A small child lay there,
Proven mortal.
A chill fell as they
Descended upon him,
Hauntingly it hung
In the sickly sweet and thick air.
His small form
Although beaten,
Broken,
and torn,
Remained still and peaceful
As the flock ravaged
His once soft and milky skin,
Taking even the oil coloured flesh,
Shreds of...
693 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
12th Jun 2012 3:53am
12th Jun 2012 3:53am
a f t and e.
i often wish i had
a type writer attached to my brain
to record all of the thoughts
that i have wrestled
and slain,
because these days it feels like
i've been slinging stones at giants
and its in these moments im finding
my feats laced with the seconds of silence.
a f t and e
is it fate?
or perhaps defeat it seems to me.
all i know is that it appears
this town is no place for me
just a constant bruise
prolonged by misery.
where to run
when all the roads lead back
to the landmarks
of all things lost...
a type writer attached to my brain
to record all of the thoughts
that i have wrestled
and slain,
because these days it feels like
i've been slinging stones at giants
and its in these moments im finding
my feats laced with the seconds of silence.
a f t and e
is it fate?
or perhaps defeat it seems to me.
all i know is that it appears
this town is no place for me
just a constant bruise
prolonged by misery.
where to run
when all the roads lead back
to the landmarks
of all things lost...
620 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
17th Apr 2012 4:32pm
17th Apr 2012 4:32pm
be-lates
i find that i usually miss
the important things,
to a degree
that is more
than being fashionably
late.
my be-lates.
everything on this time line is belated,
put off
since she
was so put off
in her bedroom
counting her last breaths
waiting for one of us to walk through
her door.
there are some occasions that
it is impossible to correct
being late for,
so unlike a party, a wedding,
or in this case, a birthday.
i proposed a cigarette
looking over this prose,
and passed it from myself
to the ghost
to...
the important things,
to a degree
that is more
than being fashionably
late.
my be-lates.
everything on this time line is belated,
put off
since she
was so put off
in her bedroom
counting her last breaths
waiting for one of us to walk through
her door.
there are some occasions that
it is impossible to correct
being late for,
so unlike a party, a wedding,
or in this case, a birthday.
i proposed a cigarette
looking over this prose,
and passed it from myself
to the ghost
to...
626 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Jan 2012 7:09am
10th Jan 2012 7:09am
despite the serpant
pull a snake from the grass
and you will get bit.
vengence is a poison,
vindication replaces the blood
and weakens the heart,
which on its own
is your best moral compass.
so the next time you are tempted
to pull a snake from the grass
remember:
that although no good deed will go unpunished
no reward will ripen
from pulling the serpent from the plot.
and you will get bit.
vengence is a poison,
vindication replaces the blood
and weakens the heart,
which on its own
is your best moral compass.
so the next time you are tempted
to pull a snake from the grass
remember:
that although no good deed will go unpunished
no reward will ripen
from pulling the serpent from the plot.
612 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by innileika (Silvja Weiss)
