Submissions by kourtnissixxx
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
LOVE POEM
Published
4th Apr 2018 00:03am
4th Apr 2018 00:03am
Candle lit acrimoniousness - in collaboration with sooterella
six shots later
and i'm still looking at my hands
trying to remember
what it felt like to hold you"
- (unknown)
to be held...
addiction
a whisper rushing over me
your fingers play the music
of my exposed spine
like a february breeze through wind chimes
i tried to catch your hand
kiss your spirit
a funeral kite with a string of roses
but you had already left me
like a fever
drained, weepy
wondering if i just imagined you
to wound myself
to see if i could still part
dream...
and i'm still looking at my hands
trying to remember
what it felt like to hold you"
- (unknown)
to be held...
addiction
a whisper rushing over me
your fingers play the music
of my exposed spine
like a february breeze through wind chimes
i tried to catch your hand
kiss your spirit
a funeral kite with a string of roses
but you had already left me
like a fever
drained, weepy
wondering if i just imagined you
to wound myself
to see if i could still part
dream...
#heartbroken
#collaboration
374 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
3rd Apr 2018 7:02am
3rd Apr 2018 7:02am
a string of consciousness debunked
It isn't raining.
I'm watching humid winds twist between lush tree branches like soft fingertips curling around flowing strands of (almost) auburn streaked hair.
Omnipresent clouds drift past in hues of blue and grey, whitewashed across the sky and mocking me in questionable humor.
I'm waiting for rain to begin skydiving down
down
down so I can reflect about a goddess I don't know if I believe in anymore.
So I can see a dead man ripple in a dirty puddle that's trapped in the depressed arches of cracked concrete.
The capricious writers side of my face...
I'm watching humid winds twist between lush tree branches like soft fingertips curling around flowing strands of (almost) auburn streaked hair.
Omnipresent clouds drift past in hues of blue and grey, whitewashed across the sky and mocking me in questionable humor.
I'm waiting for rain to begin skydiving down
down
down so I can reflect about a goddess I don't know if I believe in anymore.
So I can see a dead man ripple in a dirty puddle that's trapped in the depressed arches of cracked concrete.
The capricious writers side of my face...
#rain
422 reads
9 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
3rd Apr 2018 7:01am
3rd Apr 2018 7:01am
In regard to sky blue eyes and the metro
I saw a saddness
fabricated over the sharp angles
of your jutted shoulder blades
I wanted to slide my favorite fingers
just above the delicate structure
of those naked eyelids
you keep maimed in the sunshine
like a nocturnal median
I understand a bit too intimately
You blink absently in my direction
Consider me anonymous
A single orchid petal
oxidizing on a weathered windowsill
a repressed tidal wave
of sinuous bone marrow
a pair of impulsive hands
clinging to lightning ...
fabricated over the sharp angles
of your jutted shoulder blades
I wanted to slide my favorite fingers
just above the delicate structure
of those naked eyelids
you keep maimed in the sunshine
like a nocturnal median
I understand a bit too intimately
You blink absently in my direction
Consider me anonymous
A single orchid petal
oxidizing on a weathered windowsill
a repressed tidal wave
of sinuous bone marrow
a pair of impulsive hands
clinging to lightning ...
#humankind
355 reads
1 Comment
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
27th Mar 2018 4:43pm
27th Mar 2018 4:43pm
Huzzah! (Oh me, oh my)
Where for art thou dearest seenia; fairest maiden who adorns midnights enchantment with all the grace of a silver sirens nightmare incarnate- somewhere betwixst on the horizon of evermore (Nevermore! Oh! Dear oh dear! Forevermore, if there ever was a beginning, if ever there is an end); one ms yenyen, one Madame Yesenia of the Carnal Astrid- by name and of lineage.
Huzzah! How i adore thee so, Lovely lady, huzzah! A cheer of pleasure, a warcry of endearment; huzzah, huzzah, a symphony of celebration drips from these lips in memory, and in blasphemy and burning desire, but wait! Mourning;...
Huzzah! How i adore thee so, Lovely lady, huzzah! A cheer of pleasure, a warcry of endearment; huzzah, huzzah, a symphony of celebration drips from these lips in memory, and in blasphemy and burning desire, but wait! Mourning;...
#funny
382 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
12th Feb 2018 3:26pm
12th Feb 2018 3:26pm
just because you wrote it doesn't make it poetry
A woman who writes feels too much"
You said there's a magic that embroids pantomime into my pupils when the sun slips past the night break of my lips. That I grow stark like a bare moon withdrawn into the veils of madness opal winds vicariously whisper lies to.
Oh yes, silence is a genetic abnormality that festers in my soul like a cancer on display for gilded fears barricaded behind gnarled bars.
I've spoken of pretty nothing's and wracked the shaken memories of ugly everything's as if my boundaries hold no modesty; as if my tongue never swells or...
You said there's a magic that embroids pantomime into my pupils when the sun slips past the night break of my lips. That I grow stark like a bare moon withdrawn into the veils of madness opal winds vicariously whisper lies to.
Oh yes, silence is a genetic abnormality that festers in my soul like a cancer on display for gilded fears barricaded behind gnarled bars.
I've spoken of pretty nothing's and wracked the shaken memories of ugly everything's as if my boundaries hold no modesty; as if my tongue never swells or...
613 reads
7 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
12th Feb 2018 2:18pm
12th Feb 2018 2:18pm
remember me every time the sky begins to bleed pestilence on your conscience
Smile, pretty girl
don't you dare let them
think for a moment
you're
real."
You look at me now as if I've grown soft; as if the crime scene harbored behind my breasts have been neatly tucked away in a cold case file for rabid dust bunnies to smoother silent, and fuck against in abandon.
It's true, I've murdered the burn out but her resin still lingers in those all too familiar graffiti smiles two miles over.
My memories are insectile born, and you penetrate thier phosphorescent wings with your fickle, reminiscent talk of...
don't you dare let them
think for a moment
you're
real."
You look at me now as if I've grown soft; as if the crime scene harbored behind my breasts have been neatly tucked away in a cold case file for rabid dust bunnies to smoother silent, and fuck against in abandon.
It's true, I've murdered the burn out but her resin still lingers in those all too familiar graffiti smiles two miles over.
My memories are insectile born, and you penetrate thier phosphorescent wings with your fickle, reminiscent talk of...
466 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
11th Feb 2018 10:24am
11th Feb 2018 10:24am
"Im just tired" her words still echo in my heart
How could I be there for her if she doesn't let me?
What if I needed her here for me?"
I know how your limbs
swallow abyss
in auto pilot routine
and how you smile for the sun
if nothing else
I'm not afraid
of the illness encasing
the fraility of your soul
or the deafening disperses
of your uniform silences
but don't stay lost in yourself
for too long
pretty girl
you still have countless dreams
left to unveil
What if I needed her here for me?"
I know how your limbs
swallow abyss
in auto pilot routine
and how you smile for the sun
if nothing else
I'm not afraid
of the illness encasing
the fraility of your soul
or the deafening disperses
of your uniform silences
but don't stay lost in yourself
for too long
pretty girl
you still have countless dreams
left to unveil
568 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
8th Feb 2018 1:29am
8th Feb 2018 1:29am
you read me like an alcohol percentage
juxtaposed caution
it's the shit sincerity
likes to watch rot
on break time
crudely fashioned
I'm living distortion
cleverly disguised
as noir crimes
a prize on sale
for butchered sighs
desensitized
monopolized
monitored insides
outside
the realm of distinguished
curtain time
it's fine, it's fine
make believe I'm
just another
house hold design
living peroxide
patronized
labatomized
and a withered moral
labeled
pesticide
lit cigarette
Ms....
it's the shit sincerity
likes to watch rot
on break time
crudely fashioned
I'm living distortion
cleverly disguised
as noir crimes
a prize on sale
for butchered sighs
desensitized
monopolized
monitored insides
outside
the realm of distinguished
curtain time
it's fine, it's fine
make believe I'm
just another
house hold design
living peroxide
patronized
labatomized
and a withered moral
labeled
pesticide
lit cigarette
Ms....
#identity
#myself
#confusion
#SelfReflection
#emptiness
495 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Feb 2018 9:56pm
6th Feb 2018 9:56pm
To the girl in Pisces i swallow my words in silence for
(invasion of the
mind)
her psyche petals out
as vermilion hued
self-immolation
from the repressed screaming
that's tucked behind
her ribs
There is an urgency
neck deep and rapidly collapsing
admist the flooding
trenches
stripped from
her soul
Every frenzied breath
is drenched
by the guise of
existence
cascading
ever further
from her realm of reality
(fog whispers
like
suicide)
Disjointed thoughts
bottle-mail chaos ...
mind)
her psyche petals out
as vermilion hued
self-immolation
from the repressed screaming
that's tucked behind
her ribs
There is an urgency
neck deep and rapidly collapsing
admist the flooding
trenches
stripped from
her soul
Every frenzied breath
is drenched
by the guise of
existence
cascading
ever further
from her realm of reality
(fog whispers
like
suicide)
Disjointed thoughts
bottle-mail chaos ...
472 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
13th Dec 2017 10:59am
13th Dec 2017 10:59am
what lies beneath skin if not plexiglass
use me, like a pen uses ink.
write something beautiful, original, interminable.
write until your form spills onto the page 'til there is no ink left.
write about chains and whips,
tragedy and painfully glorious moments.
flesh on flesh
mouth on mouth
love on sin."
I need to believe it's true
that even my demons are open grounds
for aching art.
I'm writing to rehabilitate this overwhelming desire
to liberate the screaming eternally bound
inside the warped remnants
of my quivering conscience. ...
write something beautiful, original, interminable.
write until your form spills onto the page 'til there is no ink left.
write about chains and whips,
tragedy and painfully glorious moments.
flesh on flesh
mouth on mouth
love on sin."
I need to believe it's true
that even my demons are open grounds
for aching art.
I'm writing to rehabilitate this overwhelming desire
to liberate the screaming eternally bound
inside the warped remnants
of my quivering conscience. ...
#spiritual
490 reads
7 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
3rd Dec 2017 8:12pm
3rd Dec 2017 8:12pm
I'm proud of you
For the monster is not in my face, but in my soul. I once thought that if I was like other men, I would be happy and loved. The malignance has grown, you see, from the outside in, and this shattered visage merely reflects the abomination that is my heart. Oh, my creator, why... Why did you not make me of steel and stone? Why did you allow me to feel?"
I cant find a new muse
until i set the old ones
free
but i fear
they will set me back
and all the effort
ive put into caring about myself
will dissipate
just as the rain does ...
I cant find a new muse
until i set the old ones
free
but i fear
they will set me back
and all the effort
ive put into caring about myself
will dissipate
just as the rain does ...
821 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
30th Nov 2016 2:00pm
30th Nov 2016 2:00pm
looking for my reason to speak (incomplete and unedited)
All my poems are telling that the bleedings fun
until this carcass reaches heartless,
telling me the bleedings done"
They were all right about it
this
me
Him and him
and her
she who I didn't want to know
It's not enough for me
if you can't chisel a gaping need from my chest
and shred apart
all the catacombs that use my ribcage as sloppy architecture
Gluttony or irony I wonder?
Tear it all out
leave the post infection exposed for the next lonely love
that wants grip my desperate heart
and pump ...
until this carcass reaches heartless,
telling me the bleedings done"
They were all right about it
this
me
Him and him
and her
she who I didn't want to know
It's not enough for me
if you can't chisel a gaping need from my chest
and shred apart
all the catacombs that use my ribcage as sloppy architecture
Gluttony or irony I wonder?
Tear it all out
leave the post infection exposed for the next lonely love
that wants grip my desperate heart
and pump ...
#AnneSexton
725 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by kourtnissixxx
