Submissions by toniscales (Lost Girl)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I am very critical of my own work but I tend to love intensely, and writing is an emotional release and catharsis I can't seem to resist.
DARK POEM
Published
21st Dec 2014 10:01pm
21st Dec 2014 10:01pm
Cora
On Wednesdays I dream of trysts,
on Thursdays tuberculosis.
When we were young, this terrible sadness,
like hands, had never touched us.
Something hushed yet fevered.
You swear death sounds like
the moment a cigarette hits water,
that beautiful transparent hiss.
I dream of cartwheels and hangings
as we fuck softly beneath the eaves.
My mother folds towels,
cries at imperfect corners.
Thinks no one can hear her moaning.
Meanwhile I'm haunted by chicken bones
and Chanel, dreaming of spiders the size
of piñatas. They...
on Thursdays tuberculosis.
When we were young, this terrible sadness,
like hands, had never touched us.
Something hushed yet fevered.
You swear death sounds like
the moment a cigarette hits water,
that beautiful transparent hiss.
I dream of cartwheels and hangings
as we fuck softly beneath the eaves.
My mother folds towels,
cries at imperfect corners.
Thinks no one can hear her moaning.
Meanwhile I'm haunted by chicken bones
and Chanel, dreaming of spiders the size
of piñatas. They...
911 reads
7 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
21st Dec 2014 5:49pm
21st Dec 2014 5:49pm
Lines Written Beneath a Tree
Maybe I can't get over
this blue dialogue of mouth to sky.
The way sadness tastes
like a wet cigarette.
My sex is a rosette
always opening for you.
Leaves resemble wilting breasts.
Only the flies offer my bare arms
their flittering touch.
Your skin still eludes me.
I would have you rustling inside me
as the hologram flickers on the wall.
Though infinitely unreal
it still looks, shimmers like love.
this blue dialogue of mouth to sky.
The way sadness tastes
like a wet cigarette.
My sex is a rosette
always opening for you.
Leaves resemble wilting breasts.
Only the flies offer my bare arms
their flittering touch.
Your skin still eludes me.
I would have you rustling inside me
as the hologram flickers on the wall.
Though infinitely unreal
it still looks, shimmers like love.
761 reads
6 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
21st Dec 2014 1:58pm
21st Dec 2014 1:58pm
Black Dahlia
The setting is always haunted.
The breath within her, haunted.
Everything so gauzy and sleek.
The moon like a lazy eye,
its chrome exterior.
The jet-black flower of her hair
spreading across the pillow.
Nothing more beautiful than a line,
the singer’s husky drawl
purring like a saxophone.
Engorged on stardust and tequila,
her name glittering
in a thousand shop windows
as her mouth opens over him
like a calla lily.
Never knowing she'll become
the lurid stuff of legends,
her photos strewn
in...
The breath within her, haunted.
Everything so gauzy and sleek.
The moon like a lazy eye,
its chrome exterior.
The jet-black flower of her hair
spreading across the pillow.
Nothing more beautiful than a line,
the singer’s husky drawl
purring like a saxophone.
Engorged on stardust and tequila,
her name glittering
in a thousand shop windows
as her mouth opens over him
like a calla lily.
Never knowing she'll become
the lurid stuff of legends,
her photos strewn
in...
864 reads
5 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
21st Dec 2014 4:34am
21st Dec 2014 4:34am
Amelia
She's run out of things to live for.
Teacups and shoes,
a hint of collarbone
through his shirt.
All day, the taste of longing
in her mouth.
Waiting for him to pass,
to giggle hot like a schoolgirl.
By midnight the world's diminished
to lights caressing the tollway.
Signposts that sing of a desperate paradise,
his cologne scraping the car's interior.
How she yearns in places
her body cannot reach.
Desire crackling the dash,
slicing the night like a scar.
The skyline sutured and frayed,
his...
Teacups and shoes,
a hint of collarbone
through his shirt.
All day, the taste of longing
in her mouth.
Waiting for him to pass,
to giggle hot like a schoolgirl.
By midnight the world's diminished
to lights caressing the tollway.
Signposts that sing of a desperate paradise,
his cologne scraping the car's interior.
How she yearns in places
her body cannot reach.
Desire crackling the dash,
slicing the night like a scar.
The skyline sutured and frayed,
his...
1083 reads
10 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
21st Dec 2014 4:31am
21st Dec 2014 4:31am
Minerva
She is
the book falling open to November,
sweet hidden wickedness of rhododendron,
her mouth a tuberose, pale.
Sucking.
She swells upon the eaves.
They touch at her thighs
to feel the texture of acrylics,
something frail, transitory,
beautiful.
She walks the beach in August,
sudden music out of nowhere,
houseflies and hypodermics,
the shadows that rustle
behind shower curtains.
Her need to be compelling is painful,
something purple and waxen,
a delicate blush.
Still, she writes the way ...
the book falling open to November,
sweet hidden wickedness of rhododendron,
her mouth a tuberose, pale.
Sucking.
She swells upon the eaves.
They touch at her thighs
to feel the texture of acrylics,
something frail, transitory,
beautiful.
She walks the beach in August,
sudden music out of nowhere,
houseflies and hypodermics,
the shadows that rustle
behind shower curtains.
Her need to be compelling is painful,
something purple and waxen,
a delicate blush.
Still, she writes the way ...
846 reads
5 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
20th Dec 2014 8:23pm
20th Dec 2014 8:23pm
Charlotte
a lost girl poem
He meets her the way
her father would.
In darkness, edges blurred,
not quite real.
Her hands fidget hot
at the sides of her dress,
those swollen cremations
of cakes, thighs, moonlight.
If only his face
held a sex, she thinks,
she might impale herself
upon it, content.
The splintering of silk
occurs when she´s turned away.
Later, at the barge, she senses
the quiet tang of the wind,
the boats that linger
disjointed at their ropes,
aching for shores
without...
He meets her the way
her father would.
In darkness, edges blurred,
not quite real.
Her hands fidget hot
at the sides of her dress,
those swollen cremations
of cakes, thighs, moonlight.
If only his face
held a sex, she thinks,
she might impale herself
upon it, content.
The splintering of silk
occurs when she´s turned away.
Later, at the barge, she senses
the quiet tang of the wind,
the boats that linger
disjointed at their ropes,
aching for shores
without...
750 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
20th Dec 2014 7:59pm
20th Dec 2014 7:59pm
Teaching an Angel to Use Her Wings
(Written for Guardian Demon’s “Commission” competition)
for David Gahan
I am a dancer, candles lit,
pills gone. Alone with that voice.
Biblical. Intravenous.
I've danced this way since I was thirteen
in my mother's purloined negligee.
Blood and rhythm
a Bosch-like garden of delights.
Electroshock in my bedroom.
I pirouetted like a graceful,
dead thing. All rabid-spider
majesty. Writhing to haunted
vocal cords while nectar
and vinyl rainstorms
filled my hands.
Fatherless and hungry,
the...
for David Gahan
I am a dancer, candles lit,
pills gone. Alone with that voice.
Biblical. Intravenous.
I've danced this way since I was thirteen
in my mother's purloined negligee.
Blood and rhythm
a Bosch-like garden of delights.
Electroshock in my bedroom.
I pirouetted like a graceful,
dead thing. All rabid-spider
majesty. Writhing to haunted
vocal cords while nectar
and vinyl rainstorms
filled my hands.
Fatherless and hungry,
the...
647 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
20th Dec 2014 12:01pm
20th Dec 2014 12:01pm
White Extractions
I’ve been dreaming lately
of car wrecks, your mouth.
That dark space where my spine
curves, starved. Wanting.
She’s murdered by the mortality
of objects but this ache never dies.
To be good at her hands,
be beautiful. Loved.
I pray in parking lots,
lick my lips at the sky.
Once, a hot surge of blood
pulsed through my snow-white dress.
My forearms brushing the sides
of my breasts, cradling and cupping,
pushing them together.
The valley of darkness there.
of car wrecks, your mouth.
That dark space where my spine
curves, starved. Wanting.
She’s murdered by the mortality
of objects but this ache never dies.
To be good at her hands,
be beautiful. Loved.
I pray in parking lots,
lick my lips at the sky.
Once, a hot surge of blood
pulsed through my snow-white dress.
My forearms brushing the sides
of my breasts, cradling and cupping,
pushing them together.
The valley of darkness there.
856 reads
5 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
20th Dec 2014 11:53am
20th Dec 2014 11:53am
The End of Innocence
And maybe it goes something like this.
The saint on the dresser,
her doe eyes beckoning.
The green of the walls gone too pale.
A sound like thunder
in the kitchen.
The crash of pots and pans.
This thing inside you, squirming
to be let out. The way it tastes
like rain. A suggestion of blue.
Your mother's rhinestone brooch
wrapped in browning lace and hidden
in the drawer. Bones in the corsets
flattening your spine,
children laughing in the yard
and suddenly you’re crying
into the dark of...
The saint on the dresser,
her doe eyes beckoning.
The green of the walls gone too pale.
A sound like thunder
in the kitchen.
The crash of pots and pans.
This thing inside you, squirming
to be let out. The way it tastes
like rain. A suggestion of blue.
Your mother's rhinestone brooch
wrapped in browning lace and hidden
in the drawer. Bones in the corsets
flattening your spine,
children laughing in the yard
and suddenly you’re crying
into the dark of...
726 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
20th Dec 2014 00:36am
20th Dec 2014 00:36am
Forcing the Saints
This fever, my body aches with it.
Slowly murdered by your killer smile,
I wanted your hands on me.
Knowing it was impossible,
shutting my eyes against
that sudden rush of need.
She burns and yearns. Nothing can sate her.
The music of her loneliness like a wet necklace
the sky goddess hung. Haunting. Slippery.
She's drunk on sensual nuances. The swish
of silk sweeping past the calf, slithering
her toes into a pair of pantyhose.
The slow-burning awareness of the body.
Her desire swells, luminous. Shivering.
She's...
Slowly murdered by your killer smile,
I wanted your hands on me.
Knowing it was impossible,
shutting my eyes against
that sudden rush of need.
She burns and yearns. Nothing can sate her.
The music of her loneliness like a wet necklace
the sky goddess hung. Haunting. Slippery.
She's drunk on sensual nuances. The swish
of silk sweeping past the calf, slithering
her toes into a pair of pantyhose.
The slow-burning awareness of the body.
Her desire swells, luminous. Shivering.
She's...
688 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
19th Dec 2014 3:57pm
19th Dec 2014 3:57pm
Journal of a Grief
I.
I want every part of you to fit within me.
You were going to be late for an appointment.
Sunlight constricted everything.
The shock of your face
as if I never truly remembered it.
I dropped on one knee in dampened grass
while you grabbed my hair
and eased your world into me.
The effortless arousal at your command
to take you into me,
pushing,
pulling.
Something so natural,
I wept as you fed me.
II.
I have not showered in three days.
Haven't brushed my teeth.
Today I found a picture of...
I want every part of you to fit within me.
You were going to be late for an appointment.
Sunlight constricted everything.
The shock of your face
as if I never truly remembered it.
I dropped on one knee in dampened grass
while you grabbed my hair
and eased your world into me.
The effortless arousal at your command
to take you into me,
pushing,
pulling.
Something so natural,
I wept as you fed me.
II.
I have not showered in three days.
Haven't brushed my teeth.
Today I found a picture of...
718 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by toniscales (Lost Girl)
