I am tired of pretending... by almostknowhere, literature
Literature
I am tired of pretending...
I am tired of pretending to listen when you speak
you have nothing to say
and I just want to write bad poetry
and post it in public forums
for people to criti...
What? Yes, I'm listening.
No, don't worry about dinner
we're having something tender.
(It's my heart, if you're wondering.)
Little boy, do you not write anymore?
Do your words not flow forth?
Do you choke on their warmth?
Little poet, does the pen cramp your hand?
Does it shake and shiver?
Does it sneak and sliver?
To that place in your heart
wormed away in darkness
secreted away when there are others about
only to be taken out,
picked apart,
leafed through,
when youre alone.
Do your memories haunt you?
Do you comb your fingers through them?
Do they slip and slide and gleam in the night?
Are they solid like stone?
Are they fleeting like water?
Are they snapshots in time?
Little poet -
I lie wake at night
I take them out and feel with fin
Thoughts of my Father. by almostknowhere, literature
Literature
Thoughts of my Father.
The cats licking the condensation off of my Pabst bottle, and as she moves on to my glass of abandoned milk from earlier, I ponder this: Would my father be proud of me?
I havent asked myself that question for a few years. After the constant agony his death had bestowed upon me had dwindled, I had found it easier to push the question to the back of my mind. But it always came back to me on the anniversary of his death.
Would he be ashamed of who I had become? Would he be upset if he knew some of the things I had done? Its only 5:30 in the morning, but I know that the question will be in the forefront of my mi
Beauty in Form
You don't see
my love
What the rest of us see
Don't let the world blind you
or jade you
The focus shifts,
and settles
I wander through hall after hall
Chasing your voice
That melody
taunting me
A whisper through the trees
I'm not longer bitter
or hardened
I've melted
Like words on your tongue
Gentle notes
Rising and falling
A twinkle of peace
In a sea of harsh reality
My poet
My love
You free me
Cicadas are my choir.
Your image,
my portrait.
Days like these
when the sky is blue,
they make me think of you.
All of my days have blue skies.
The wind is telling me to wait,
and I know I must.
Until then, I make my way through phone lines,
and this distance,
to listen to you sleep.
fall asleep with me tonight. by Pretty-As-A-Picture, literature
Literature
fall asleep with me tonight.
If I wrote you a lullaby with verses of moonlit, fogged breath and a chorus of heartbeats- would you fall asleep with our melody in your palms?
I lie awake at night and watch traffic lights outside my window shout RED into the peace quiet and occasional hazy rev of traffic. I lie awake and shiver through layers and wish to silent stars it wasnt winter, wish the nighttime cool wouldnt paint quite so many goose bumps on my skin and make my eyelids so cold. I lie awake at night and night-dream without sleep- about you and all your eyelashes and beautiful wordings.
I like the way your collarbone lies horizontally beneath your neck,
Eight Kisses
One
You can call
it emptiness, breath, epithet, or oblivion
or love, or the thing we can't
touch, while in motion.
The rush
of your mouth in me like icemelt water,
innocent, surging
like a creek,
touching,
stopped.
His voice is tempting me
to forget past transgressions.
It is a grumbling sparkle of distraction.
Ah, yes, taunting me
with words that are diamond sharp and misleading.
Yet all my heart can contribute is a stuttering "shhhh..."
to logic and remembered absence.
His voice is tempting me
to forget his past transgressions.
Current Residence: South Carolina Favourite genre of music: SKA, punk, indie, choral and band music, some generic rock, rap Favourite photographer: Annie Leibovitz, Ansel Adams MP3 player of choice: Pod
I'm shocked by the idiocy of some of the people on this site. The thing that justflyakite (https://www.deviantart.com/justflyakite) is doing with the EPOTI series is pretty damn funny, and quite obvious, but the majority of his comments have to do with people saying "uhm....I don't get it...no...wait...nope, still don't get it." Especially the last few.
So for the 1 person (probably 0 people at this point) that reads this, let me lay it out for you: He is using the same comic over and over and over again. The dinos are in the same position. He's just changing what they're saying.
Easy.
That's the humor in it. Now go crawl back in your cave.
...and moving.
Until I'm all settled and I won't have a chance to upload the things I've finished. I have pieces that I'll be doing for friends as gifts for the holidays to upload, a couple of drawings, and if I have the balls, a painting or three.
So there we go.