[x]

12am rapid eye movement

cars speed down an instinct interstate
a little slower than they once did;
in the distance, city glow.
here only bad talk radio bathes
coffee stained seats
decorated with cigarette burn mosaics.

9am zombie walk

cattle chatter clatters to the floor,
where yellow light burns tired eyes.
chipper idiots dance to the sound
of a corporate drummer
in eternal accelerando.

6pm microwave dinner dementia

in an aquarium
where vibrant colors did abound,
green algae lurks.
a dull fish paddles belly up.

10pm metropolitan lullaby

staring at the cracked ceilings
of train noise tuesdays,
the city stench fades.

swim like fishshallow streams of consciousness
lap against ankles dangled
from piers of perception

fed by pools of thought which
shimmer briefly- scrutinized
dissipating under x-ray glares

aquatic remembrances writhe
in charred baked beds of
revocations

and in the end your throat
burns and we're all sick
of water.

Wasted

pour out your bloody ink in some faint rhythmic whine
while the dark, thick rain falls endlessly to earth:
the night sky is still the night sky,
and like all things it will continue.

though your blood may rush and roar like water
until in a faint whisper you finally run dry:
still the stars endure and the rain falls,
and will go on falling.

go on and make your thin poetic moan
and cut, and cry, and shake your tiny fist at the sky
and bleed:
but rain is the blood of the stars,
and they have no sympathy for you.

The Death of Love

It's starting to look like

there are more people in the world than
there are thoughts in all I've said,

and more complexities in the universe
than people in my head.

Anything is probable.

Whoever you are-
let's dance on the air together,

while everything
ends.

They'll Be Back In Summer

The boats pull in
Pull out
Like clockwork
By months
Every year breaks open
On the edge of the seasonal bowl
Its fiery orange yolk
Dawning
Giving the extras their cue
The camera reels
Behind my eyelids
Record this summer at-home vacation
The aural thump
Of their midnight parties
Permeating the walls
Of concrete
And bone alike
Until the role of ambient silence
Is recast
Till fall

Didnt mean a thing to me

`

Tie me to the clouds
Sky as blue as you

Float away as you drive along
70 and rising

Knees on the dash
Never meant to fall in love
Hate being your Mona Lisa

Fading like a distant light
Glue my mouth shut so i can't breathe
Place me next to you

Drive off
you are 70 and rising
escape your tormentors

Ward off ageing
with pulsating beats of your heart
and ice cream in the graveyard

lyrical frustration
Knees on the dash
70 and rising

count down
slow down
70 and slowly fading

`

Perfect ImperfectionsIf my lips were chapped
Would you still kiss them?
If my last words were slurred
Would you still miss them?
If my hair was matted
Would you still say it shined?
If I was really moody towards you
Would you still be kind?
If I tripped down the stairs
Would you still help me to me feet?
If I was an hour later to dinner
Would you still wait for me to eat?
If I lost a huge game
Would you still cheer me on?
If I was afraid of the dark
Would you hold me 'til dawn?
If I couldn't stop crying
Would you still kiss my tears away?
If I died tomorrow
Could you still live another day?
I guess what I want to know
Is how it would be
If

Cacophany

What do you want when you read any poem?
Should it sound like those in an ancient tome;
And have flowing patterns of chiming rhymes,
With a constant meter and length of lines?
Would you like lovely lies of love lit eyes
And finds of floral features in her guise?

Or should I stop and break into cacophony?
Add harsh, stiff, piercing terminology,
Talk of darkness, death, your soul being rent;
Heartbreak causing shame and hatred and blame.
And I'll break from my patterns - confuse your expectations
Of this poem by ending in
The wrong places and putting rhymes inside the lines, but not at the ends.

But maybe you'd like that, and I'd

november 2ndsquatting.
when all the formalities have
finally been packed away
in a box marked p.c.,
when they've been stored
in the attic until some later
season when couth is again
in fashion, we'll use the proper word:
squatting. or perhaps, renting.
sure, there are those who still like
to costume their actions in words
like "dating" or even "talking,"
but it is now much too cold
for such flimsy decorative terms.
bring on the wool sweaters,
the stocking caps, the sweatpants:
the truth.

the truth is an extra-large sweater
that you think you'll never grow into.

it takes courage to try it on, because
you do look foolish at first

when atlas shrugged

-

parched mountaintops shake loose their ancient roots and slide eagerly across the vastness of an earthquake trembling shoreline into the tumultuous gaping mouth of a deep blue sea, quenching their ageless thirst on the foaming waters, churning and raging with the erratic quivering of the earth. in a gargantuan sigh the mountaintops cascade into the violent waters, sinking swiftly through the assailing sea to settle amongst their blissful aquatic brethren. a seashell picture frame of timeless family memories are awoken and shake delicately across a reflective glass table reverberating an irritating tap drowned out by the loud creak of woode

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 1.4 KB more ▶

More from `spunj13

here we are again

.

here we are again

here we are again
standing at the crossroads
of reality and fiction
backpacks full of youth
and our vision clouded by rose-coloured lenses
only willing to see the world
as we wish to see it

blinded by our inacceptance
we fall into despair
for life itself
is less than fair

here we are again
standing at this juncture
of meaning and desire
suitcases in hand
and our sight clouded by a life lesslived
for we have seen the world
and do not want any part of it

blinded by our own misjudgement
we fall into despair
for life itself
is less than fair

here

just to say goodbye

.

just to say goodbye

your words echo hollow on the telephone
crackling through static
and regret
"i just wanted to say goodbye"
you said

and all i wish for
is just a little longer
just one more chance

your words echo hollow on the telephone
overcome by noise
and the past
"it's time for me to go"
you said

and all i wish for
is just one moment more
to tell you how i feel

your words echo hollow on the telephone
reverberating through static
and memories
"i just wanted to say i'm leaving"
you said

and all i wanted
was for one more chance
just to say goodbye

m

unfounded utopian dreams

.

unfounded utopian dreams

so take your life
with all its pretended happiness
close your eyes to the pain
shut your mind off to the greed
ignore the shit that you created

you made this bed
now sleep in it

but you would rather think
of better times
unfounded utopian dreams
away from the hate
turn off the world
and relax in your easy chair
while life moves on
without you

may 3, 2002
8:31 pm

Nothing Lasts Forever

.

nothing lasts forever

i miss them
those happy warm days
(it felt like summer)
when you would gaze at me
and smile
and for a moment
everything was all right

and the passing clouds
could not dim our spirits

but nothing
lasts forever

april 29, 2002

View Gallery · View Prints

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

Submitted: March 10, 2004
File Size: 1.4 KB

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 38
Favourites: 31 [who?]
Views: 1,567 (0 today)
Downloads: 537 (0 today)

[x]

memories - i never had

by `spunj13, Mar 10, 2004, 8:46:22 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

.

memories (i never had)

i can feel the taste of tears
rising in my throat
      swallow
keep it down
we don't want to wake the neighbors
with our sympathies
      our word addictions
for the faceless names
that have snuck from between the dusty pages
grabbed our hands
      and led us on a merry dance
through the dark apple tree forests
shadows in the moonlight
      no reflections in their empty eyes

i reach out my hand
grasping for yours in the dark
the figure in the chair by the pool
      looking out over the sea
not touching
not speaking
      but it is only fiction
that holds us apart
      and your face is just a suggestion
over the sound of crashing waves
close my eyes
      and smell the salt
feel the whisper of your skin
as you pass by
      into the settling night

march 2, 2004
1:18 am

memories - i never hadby `spunj13

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

having just read (a few weeks ago) the book Cider House Rules... (it's crap don't bother... ) i was slightly inspired to write for the first time in.. well.. months really... i'm trying to get back into it... so you'll have to forgive the crappiness of this one...

[spunj13]

Daily Deviation

Given 2004-04-06

memories - i never had by `spunj13 is about the title, in italics, and feeling "the taste of tears rising in my throat", "a merry dance through dark apple tree forests". It is fantasy which sweeps you into the dream, the whispers, the smell, the shadow of you passing by. ( Featured by °jsenn )

~MairetheStrange Aug 19, 2005 Writer

This to me was a really well laid out and interesting poem and for someone who hasn't written in months it's a really excellent effort. Keep it up!

~LOSTACIDjoKer Oct 1, 2004 Hobbyist General Artist

I really like this, very powerful, and emotional, yet still clean and crisp, great work, very awe inspiring!!

~sanlou018 Aug 10, 2004

I like the way you describe the ocean! It's very cool. You should keep writing, you're very good at it!

~paladin2001 Apr 25, 2004

Well, I agree with most of the other commentators here that this is a wonderfully written, gripping piece of poetic imagery, rather than crap.

~megani Apr 6, 2004 Student Digital Artist

OMYGOSH! wow! this is..wow..words cannot express how much i truly love this poem....wow! just WOW!

!! this is really really good..so deep..I feel every word..affecting me in some weird way..I don't know why, but I can really relate to this...I lived on an apple orchard for the first eight years of my life..I really really like this!!

keep up this great work!

~KarmaGhost Apr 6, 2004

Considering that you hvaen't written in months, this is quite an amazing product. I especially like how the second stanza is held over an ocean. Saltwater...oh what a great reflection (is this a planned allusion) to the tears of the first stanza. "No reflection shown in their eyes" is also a great way to repeat that they are memories you never had. You can't remember what is not happening--and when there's no reflection, it's not really there a la Dracula. Kudos, kudos, kudos.

Bury my head for the same, you pick me up, you say I lok like you / Though it makes no sense to me, you make me believe that I could trust someone / I could ever trust someone... <<This is actually an excerpt from a Jars of Clay song ("Sing" from their album Who We Are Instead) that carries a weight behind it and I'm not sure why your poem conjured it into my mind. You never had the memories; you can't trust the people you share them with when you cannot see the reflection in their eyes...~sighs~ I know I'm rambling, but just know that this is a great poem.

~SheCat Apr 6, 2004

Wow.

~BinhUlrik Apr 6, 2004

just to jump on the bandwagon, i'll go ahead and fav this and cry a little

~TiMe-iS-ouRS Apr 6, 2004

I know...

i know just what you mean...

!seriousness Apr 6, 2004

congrats on the DD - i remember you from aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaages ago! great to see you're still around and still doing what you do best.

More from `spunj13

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

memories - i never had

memories - i never hadby `spunj13

Daily Deviation

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style