Submissions by oTHER_vOICES
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Rita Mae Brown "Let others live in black and white, YOU must live in Technicolour. Let your readers see τђє blood at τђє heart of τђє ruby."
SELF POEM
Published
29th Oct 2013 11:35am
29th Oct 2013 11:35am
I AM NOT WHO I AM
i am not
who i am
i am who
others have
made me
mother
father
teacher
master
priest
wife
lover man from hell
the beast who lived next door
whom i loved at 14
the whore who abused me
you used me
you made me
i would love
to accept myself
to be me
but which me
shall i choose
cocksure
choir boy
boy toy
bum boy
graduate
addict
addict in recovery
freewheelin
bob and thom
dylanesque
poet in mania
broken depressed
messed up
angel...
who i am
i am who
others have
made me
mother
father
teacher
master
priest
wife
lover man from hell
the beast who lived next door
whom i loved at 14
the whore who abused me
you used me
you made me
i would love
to accept myself
to be me
but which me
shall i choose
cocksure
choir boy
boy toy
bum boy
graduate
addict
addict in recovery
freewheelin
bob and thom
dylanesque
poet in mania
broken depressed
messed up
angel...
804 reads
12 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
25th Oct 2013 9:10pm
25th Oct 2013 9:10pm
CRASHING CASTLES
to write beauty
into the lines
of everything
is foolish
it’s true
that fools are safe
and yet fools
fall hard
and i was a fool
i looked into your eyes
and imagined
that they saw me
i looked at your body
and the pounding
of a heart gone mad
spewed blood
through bursting veins
i loved you
and became a fool
with a fool’s
breaking heart
and yet with all the lies
my feelings told my brain
with all the castles
that are crashing down
around me
with all the...
into the lines
of everything
is foolish
it’s true
that fools are safe
and yet fools
fall hard
and i was a fool
i looked into your eyes
and imagined
that they saw me
i looked at your body
and the pounding
of a heart gone mad
spewed blood
through bursting veins
i loved you
and became a fool
with a fool’s
breaking heart
and yet with all the lies
my feelings told my brain
with all the castles
that are crashing down
around me
with all the...
875 reads
4 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
25th Oct 2013 8:53pm
25th Oct 2013 8:53pm
SHADOW OF ARCHETYPE
In my stupor
in my stunned recklessness
where nothing but addictions
ruled me
I saw the face of The Magician
but when I reached out
to touch it
it crumbled
grinning like burning leaves
on a summer garden fire
In my fragile clarity
that same face arose
but this time I recognised its power
and I asked for the magic of reality
in place of dreams
and it showed me
a single falling sunbeam
on a mystical spider’s web
that I’d seen as a child
and I felt again
God’s innocent wonder
In my life long quest for...
in my stunned recklessness
where nothing but addictions
ruled me
I saw the face of The Magician
but when I reached out
to touch it
it crumbled
grinning like burning leaves
on a summer garden fire
In my fragile clarity
that same face arose
but this time I recognised its power
and I asked for the magic of reality
in place of dreams
and it showed me
a single falling sunbeam
on a mystical spider’s web
that I’d seen as a child
and I felt again
God’s innocent wonder
In my life long quest for...
894 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
25th Oct 2013 11:15am
25th Oct 2013 11:15am
THIS SOLITUDE OF BEING
My mother’s arms did not know me
my father’s eyes did not own me
although those arms held me
and those eyes devoured me
I was still not home
Always feeling different
always keeping myself apart
although other hearts
beat against my heart
and other tongues
sought to salve my hurt…
…still I was alone
I smiled an enchanting smile
I spoke the acceptable words
I tried to be like other men
but was rejected from the tribe
I was a buggered angel
a divine demon
an earth bound spirit
longing to depart...
my father’s eyes did not own me
although those arms held me
and those eyes devoured me
I was still not home
Always feeling different
always keeping myself apart
although other hearts
beat against my heart
and other tongues
sought to salve my hurt…
…still I was alone
I smiled an enchanting smile
I spoke the acceptable words
I tried to be like other men
but was rejected from the tribe
I was a buggered angel
a divine demon
an earth bound spirit
longing to depart...
837 reads
2 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
25th Oct 2013 10:49am
25th Oct 2013 10:49am
ARE YOU A VICTIM OR A SURVIVOR?
If it’s never our fault, we can’t take responsibility for it. If we can’t take responsibility for it, we’ll always be its victim.”
Richard Bach (Running From Safety)
Eugene O’Neill was addicted to alcohol; a short-cut to creativity that he was introduced to when he was only fifteen. His addiction had a detrimental effect on his writing but he was able to stop drinking before surrendering his talent and he went on to claim four Pulitzer Prizes for Drama and in 1957 posthumously winning the Nobel Prize for Literature.
From his experiences of growing up in an addicted and...
Richard Bach (Running From Safety)
Eugene O’Neill was addicted to alcohol; a short-cut to creativity that he was introduced to when he was only fifteen. His addiction had a detrimental effect on his writing but he was able to stop drinking before surrendering his talent and he went on to claim four Pulitzer Prizes for Drama and in 1957 posthumously winning the Nobel Prize for Literature.
From his experiences of growing up in an addicted and...
836 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
24th Oct 2013 10:36pm
24th Oct 2013 10:36pm
I AM
I am the man
who climbs the endless stairs
to doors that slam
with eternal defiance
I am the soul
within the wind
listen and hear me move
hear me as I shake the branches gently
as I kiss the leaves
and they whisper softly in return
hear me as I crash the waves
in anger
as I sift the myriad sands
in playful discontent
Mine are the arms of trees
mine are the eyes of stars
mine is the heart
that bleeds within the sky at dawn
that wanders lonely
in a mist of clouds by night
You are...
who climbs the endless stairs
to doors that slam
with eternal defiance
I am the soul
within the wind
listen and hear me move
hear me as I shake the branches gently
as I kiss the leaves
and they whisper softly in return
hear me as I crash the waves
in anger
as I sift the myriad sands
in playful discontent
Mine are the arms of trees
mine are the eyes of stars
mine is the heart
that bleeds within the sky at dawn
that wanders lonely
in a mist of clouds by night
You are...
587 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Oct 2013 10:17pm
24th Oct 2013 10:17pm
MY WORDS
(To an internet poetry site)
my tongue has curled
these drowning seeds
and slipped them through this void
the darkness catches them in flight
in whispered webs of cosmic light
i watch them disappear
then gently silently alight
upon another’s ear
sometimes my words
like wilting weeds
are hurled through this abyss
i throw them there so eagerly
and watch them being devoured
your thoughts are sometimes sealed
sometimes a comment is revealed
sometimes my words are soured
poetry is a leap of faith
not...
my tongue has curled
these drowning seeds
and slipped them through this void
the darkness catches them in flight
in whispered webs of cosmic light
i watch them disappear
then gently silently alight
upon another’s ear
sometimes my words
like wilting weeds
are hurled through this abyss
i throw them there so eagerly
and watch them being devoured
your thoughts are sometimes sealed
sometimes a comment is revealed
sometimes my words are soured
poetry is a leap of faith
not...
586 reads
1 Comment
STORY POEM
Published
24th Oct 2013 10:11am
24th Oct 2013 10:11am
DIAMONDS IN DIRT
Adrian flounces
but in his heart
he’s a brave warrior;
a gladiator;
a protector;
set apart from the mincing men
that mill around him
like fairy bees
at the honey hive
Adrian bounces
out the door
but in his stride
he cannot hide
his longing to be
the charming prince
who saves the damsel
in distress
but his dress
belies the way he really feels
his make up hides;
the knight in shining armour;
the Don Juan behind his eyes;
the swashbuckling Gable or Flynn
and so it sadly seems
that nothing is...
but in his heart
he’s a brave warrior;
a gladiator;
a protector;
set apart from the mincing men
that mill around him
like fairy bees
at the honey hive
Adrian bounces
out the door
but in his stride
he cannot hide
his longing to be
the charming prince
who saves the damsel
in distress
but his dress
belies the way he really feels
his make up hides;
the knight in shining armour;
the Don Juan behind his eyes;
the swashbuckling Gable or Flynn
and so it sadly seems
that nothing is...
510 reads
0 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
24th Oct 2013 9:39am
24th Oct 2013 9:39am
RUBY BLOOD
Let others live in black and white; you must live in technicolour. Let your readers see the blood at the heart of the ruby.”
Rita Mae Brown
I climbed down
a rusted stairwell
and entered a room
where it was snowing
and found David in his shorts
and tattered tees
What woke me wasn’t the dream
but Dave coming to bed
at four in the morning
after a hard night
with his faceless fakebook friends
and internet blue movies
So now it’s just you and me
wading through words
sifting through the zealous efforts
of others who...
Rita Mae Brown
I climbed down
a rusted stairwell
and entered a room
where it was snowing
and found David in his shorts
and tattered tees
What woke me wasn’t the dream
but Dave coming to bed
at four in the morning
after a hard night
with his faceless fakebook friends
and internet blue movies
So now it’s just you and me
wading through words
sifting through the zealous efforts
of others who...
649 reads
6 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
23rd Oct 2013 10:44pm
23rd Oct 2013 10:44pm
OBVIOUS WOUND
On Magnolia Lane there are eyes everywhere. They peer from behind twitching lace curtains. They glance from between the slits of black burqas and slide sideways in the brown shaven head of the drug dealer who holds up the lamppost at the corner of Highgate Road. The looks that limp or sidle or strut from these eyes slip around corners, defying the laws of light and sight; they creep into darkened curtained rooms; they see all; know all; perceive the hidden secrets of this blossoming suburb that was once an apartheid ghetto.
Chatsworth seethes with hidden secrets and dreams of...
Chatsworth seethes with hidden secrets and dreams of...
734 reads
2 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
23rd Oct 2013 10:09pm
23rd Oct 2013 10:09pm
Buggered Angel (Power, Passion and Submission) Two: You Can Call Me Powder
Two: You Can Call Me Powder
I have many names but you can call me Powder.
Before my first ejaculation, before I knew that my difference went so much deeper than what the other kids at school called moffie, faggot, queer; these same kids began to call me ‘Powder’. The cruellest of them called me ‘Powder Puff’.
In those post apartheid years in South Africa, when being black was truly beautiful and being darker skinned made you privileged, my nickname was not a compliment; it was an indictment of my white heritage; a condemnation
If it were not for a movie...
I have many names but you can call me Powder.
Before my first ejaculation, before I knew that my difference went so much deeper than what the other kids at school called moffie, faggot, queer; these same kids began to call me ‘Powder’. The cruellest of them called me ‘Powder Puff’.
In those post apartheid years in South Africa, when being black was truly beautiful and being darker skinned made you privileged, my nickname was not a compliment; it was an indictment of my white heritage; a condemnation
If it were not for a movie...
744 reads
0 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
22nd Oct 2013 12:14pm
22nd Oct 2013 12:14pm
THE OTHER SIDE OF TENDERNESS (My AIDS Diary) EIGHT: Death Will Come
Death will come
like a sweet white rose
or a gift with wrappings
that will slowly enclose me
and ribbons to strangle
and bows
Death will come
with thorns to pierce
my black heart
A surprise party
an unexpected prize
and I honoured in mahogany
or teak
take a peek
before flames enfold me
and I depart
I have always equated annihilation
with crashing through dead walls
and wanting to stay
But death will come
while I still waiting
am hating the silence
and fate will take me
calmly away...
like a sweet white rose
or a gift with wrappings
that will slowly enclose me
and ribbons to strangle
and bows
Death will come
with thorns to pierce
my black heart
A surprise party
an unexpected prize
and I honoured in mahogany
or teak
take a peek
before flames enfold me
and I depart
I have always equated annihilation
with crashing through dead walls
and wanting to stay
But death will come
while I still waiting
am hating the silence
and fate will take me
calmly away...
677 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by oTHER_vOICES
