The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselvesand I began to wonder if that was the death of them.A simple, quiet death;without broken fingernails lining the wallswith the stripes of a despairing end.I began to ache with the questioning in my heartwith the echoes reverberating in my capillariesof her face scorching sunshine in her smileright before it crumpledand nothing was left but a frowning moonset firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.
the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shouldersare braille to me, so that ican read your skin, so that ican know you better.i like to listen to your heartbeatand how it resounds differentlyfrom mine, just so beautifullylike two songs played in tandemto harmonise in rounds;i like to hold your handsand rub your backso that maybe my lovecan find its way through your poresand seep into your blood(never can i find the right wordsto tell you just the way you feel to me)and to think that and how i nearly missed youmakes me miss you moreevery minute and mile we spendelsewhere.i can't sleep with another bodyin my bed,but sleeping without youleav
He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.The record needle hits the groove wrong;he stumbles over words that aren’t there,rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.He doesn’t write poetry anymoreand his confusion is strangely endearing.But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,poetic lines inserted between the daily grindof character names and who said what;voiceless boys in white a
Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.White like bone and stars.Black like reclusiveness.Green like dead air.Orange like the savage instinct.Purity like a god's heart.Red like thawing hatred.White like a frozen, severe cry.Black like the night's deprived shadows.Green like the wind in the grass.Orange like the light in the shadows.Purity like the sun rising.So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.
PocketLeftover religion in the pocketOf my trenchcoatA key that unlocks nothing A penny, a scrap of paperWith half of your nameWritten in black inkA song that is usually in my headIn the shriveled carcass Of a long-dead dreamIn the pocket Of my trenchcoatWith the lint
with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawnand you pull over,idling on the shoulder of route 50.it's a polaroid morning andthe world is as grainyand sleep-heavyas your eyes,and one million milesis not far enough.it plays back, filmstrip,blurred along the length ofoptic nerves,and here you are:facing a choice betweenonandout.and this?this loosejointed, hollowbodiedweightless ache--this is whatgonefeels like.
Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,their dreams condemned to ashes,and our restless bodies stretch,for forgiveness, for direction –survivors of the abyss, amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –so many dead, so many maimed,how many graves are we standing on, today?
SisterSisterA sister is like a soul mate;Someone who is always thereto guide me through fate.A sister is,a part of childhood that I cannot erase;A sister like you,is one that I would never replacebecause you always know how toput a smile on my face.I know I can depend on youto always be there for me;This is one hundred percent guaranteed!I've had great memories with youin the past;and I hope there are many more to come,in the future.
Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breatheThis steel cloud day that swirlsWith heat and pounding hammersI shake in my boots and cough upBlood, rust and damaged fleshWaiting for the second comingMaybe next time around there'll be Some chance for more than thisA twisted barbed wire halo Wrapped tight around my skullBlinding white light auraSwarming with flies I'm flyingTo pieces, thousands of shardsCannot be brought back togetherBut I will remember the summerOf my first Chevrolet in each bitGleaming bits of glass in the desertEach reflecting a different moment Still, now, enduring until the wavesOf a new ocean sweep them away No pain
SurelyIt was rainingwhen we kissed for the first time,for the last time.Thin rivuletssunk into the shrunken spacebetween our bodiesand divided uslike nothing could before,like everything willfrom nowuntil that never againwhen we willsee each other once more,no more.Your eyes werethat bewitching shadeof dull brown bluewith all of the light darknesswhirlingin a placid pondaround a pupiloverflowing with vacancy,and meand my frowning smile.The winter heatfell like a rising tideand,for our every breathwas another deathso black and full of life --embracing our boiled ice skinas we drew apart,came together and broke free
Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,you'd be wrapped in the sweetestperfumes (learning how to engulf the ocean with your lungs and think of how to cup it in your hands despite your broken prayers and still be beautiful)dance with the gypsies'till noon (a quake in your hips like the thrust of continents and the faultlines emanating from your spine, but still so, so graceful)sing with the nymphsin tune (your voice, it's growing old, raspy even. your throat's burning dry like a monsoon faltering in a desert, and tones still octaves powerful)be nestled in a king's armssoon (oh, you precious little thing. how
Riddle My tears fall, like invisible diamonds. My heart beats, like soundless drums. Unwanted, because of the strings attached. What am I?
A Night By the FireNo light,The light sired by the nightAll above whilst the day's delightsNow disappears from mortal sight.Faded away is the sun's power,Taking the stage now is night's sallow flower;Now mortals may behold the stars and falling shower.Set in a pit Nature's skyscraper ablazeAnd revel in the emanating heat as you gaze,Looking down on occasion when you hear a crack from the fireAnd witness "fireflies" flying away from mother's blaze;Dying shortly after but not lacking burning beauty do they desire!I look out towards the teasing shoreAnd meditate as we sit upon her door,Thinking on what my future has in store;Who I am now and even
Why meI wanted sleep very badlyI tried my hardest to restI closed my eyes and laid thereBut sleep didn’t come easyI would doze offAnd wake back upAgainWhy me? When I know I have to be up at 3 AM.
Seaside HolidayI am contentto staya caterpillarWho saysyou have to change?What's so greatabout beinga butterfly?
Last FlagThe girl speaks softly,Between the pillar and the gate.A battleground spectacular,Fills the city and the hearts.And the last flag,Stands clearly in the fight.And the last flag flies on,With the city on end,Of the words of the heart.Written down answers,In a vanishing notebook,From the speaker of the part.The destination is set,Through the highway and the crossroads,Down the path with the river,Inside the simple complex of houses,Where the liar dons a persona,Symbolic of nothing.Where the last flag flies on,And the city is on the brink,Of an outward spark,Setting fire to the last remaining answer,And
FreeAnother lonely night.You're pathetic.Different situation,Same old result.It's a slap to the face.And though you can't see the marks,You know you've done it.Hands in the fire,Pull them away.It hurts so much,But you want to try again.It's offensive,Yet you can't even see that.What a fool you are.
The Biggest LieEverything can be yoursBut only if you do as they say.Have your own life and loveBut only if you follow the rules.Make the money you desireAs soon as you sell your soul.She will always love youAs long as you don't love her too much.Stay ahead of the restBut make sure you go with the flow.Become successfulAfter you admit defeat.Be freeInside their cage.Smile and laughAs you hear the biggest lie.
Good luck on the magazine!