the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav

we are not a fairytalewe are not a fairytale.

I am not the strong lead with a heart of fire,
bones of steel, and eyes of vapid curiosity;
motivation seeping through
my every last intended action because
I was written this way

(the heroine falls only to rise again:
proverbial phoenix, burning out
because it is the cycle of my
life) and you, you are not

the beautiful travesty, perfectly composed
to strike me where I’m weak and
[almost]human, delicately woven
like the tapestry of my dismantling—
a subtle irony where somewhere, a writer
chuckles softly, understanding

we are blinder than church mice, born
in a makeshift world of darkness where
I&rsquo

Onceyour beauty lies restless behind those
hills, where you fought valiantly. and
the man you once were was brave and kind,
but now you are possessed by a passenger
of darkness, whispering words of your
loneliness.

the man you once were is forgotten, and
the man you are today, is only a ghost, a
shadow, of what you were before.

SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free

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?

FossilizedLiving proof of fossils alive,
and no horseshoe-crab am I.

Nor, inhabitable harsh compression of plates,
residing under humid marsh-scapes.

I mold into the walls, as chalky old coal.
But I am no mineral, no era.
I am not, Mesozoic.

Through the ages
Iron
Bronze
silver, gold and heroic.

I remain a still-life; and no Iduna's apples would retain my youth
No magic fountains, or time devices, or wrist watches.
I am the machine of time.
The watcher, omnipotent, the wise.

But

no God am I

Somewhere, sweet tangy sap trolleys down cracked bark.
Somewhere, celestial bodies erupt unseen.
Somewhere, a abrupt breeze blows overturned bi-cycle tire

Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain

Prelude       Nocturne;
I conjure the moon
as dusk crests,
       a wave across the sky

       I am lovely and lonely in
       the night, shadow-
       shackled to the mountainside

and the moths
unfurl their hamsa-wings as
mama calls me in.

bookworm“there is no such thing
as reading too much.”
that is what I tell you
when you insist

that there is some danger of
becoming lost in the stuff—
mistaking seriphs for serpents,

swallowing a story so whole
that its hook
sticks in my throat.

“there is no such thing
as reading too much”
I tell you, bold-faced,
surrounded by snakes
with a line through my lip.

HorsepowerHorsepower

There’s a knife turnin in my soft parts
And heat burnin my mind on hard starts
The motors runnin but I lost the wheel
Just want it to be numb don’t wanna feel
Take two steps back and put it in park
Before I leave scarred up black marks
I need a u-turn on this highway
But can’t go back on the by-way
So look ahead, the pavement goes on
Break the rear-view mirror it’s gone
Contemplate
Reiterate
Put it in drive
And say goodbye
Let’s see how fast this bitch can fly

-Cygam7

nightmarethe foxes are at your bedside and singing--
feversongs,
songs of boiling thoughts
and broken muscles.
their lullabyes.
they sneak so quiet, and
somehow,
you can't quite
dream
anymore.

Here and There, Now and ThenBurnt umber dawn, swaying electric trees
Thousands of souls chant in the summer wind
Journals of the dead are read by schoolchildren
They awake shaking someone else's dreams from their heads

Static electricity on the nape of your neck
In the television, on your phone, in your dinner
The calling of a murder of crows from the trees
You remember the view from the hospital room window

A smorgasbord of life and limb, death and decay
The antiseptic smell has an undercoating of rot and dirt
Talismans won't work any more than prayers and candles
Soldiers still fight lost wars, glory in the faded night

Tall fences are built to keep the worlds separ

Puppet My tears fall,

like invisible

diamonds.

My heart beats,

like soundless

drums.

Unwanted,

because of the

strings attached.

Lost In ConfusionMy mind is spinning without a rest
emotions whirl and twirl around
A merry-go-round gaining speed
Until the world blurrs before my eyes
What's happening? What's going on?

The simplest thought slips away
Right from my mind, fading so fast
Trying to focus, I stare and stare
Until my eyes are heavy and unclear.
I don't understand, what is going on...

Emotions rise and fall again
Within the blink of an eye
I'm crying, laughing, and depressed
A rollercoaster ride that never ends
Am I losing my mind in this ?

I try to close my eyes and rest
But the world spins me around
I feel like I am failing this test
Voices and noisies echo in my min

silver dreams.i won't say a single thing
about what you and i did that night.
it wasn't anything bad, we were
made to do it.
but the way your tears fell down
in the shape of a cloud
and the pounding on the doors
told us the stars were calling.
more like the gates of hell, but
you think stars make the most delicate
corpses.

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living a lie

.

living a lie

i told you what you asked to hear
retelling stories
detail
after detail
after intimate detail
of naked bodies
recalling from memory
the horrified faces of countless women
gasping in my arms
silently pleading for mercy
for air

i told you what you asked know
recounting tales
of undergarments
tied around necks
of innocent women
while i played with them
eyes losing focus
hands grasping at the invisible
while i spread them wide
for all the world to see
broken sexuality

but
i cannot write what you want to know
sitting alone

this was my heart v2

.

this was my heart

a thousand shattered pieces slide through your fingers
this cascade of shining sparkles
just shards of scarlet
(glass and reality)
mixed with blood that burns
and stains your fingers with regret

for just a moment you looked away
a brief reflection caught your gaze
obstructing thought
(ceasing action)
and the vase slipped from your grasp
slow-motion tortured descent
until it was too late

split second explosion of splintered glass and emotion
as my heart shattered into a thousand pieces
pouring out across the floor
(blood and certainty)
stream

this was my heart

.

this was my heart

a thousand shattered pieces slide through your fingers
this cascade of shining sparkles
just shards of scarlet
(glass and reality)
mixed with blood that burns
and it stains your fingers with regret

for just a moment you looked away
a brief reflection caught your gaze
obstructing thought
(ceasing action)
and the vase slipped from your grasp
slow-motion tortured descent
until it was too late

split second explosion of splintered glass and emotion
as my heart shattered into a thousand pieces
pouring out across the floor
(blood and certainty)
str

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of Grecian turrets

by `spunj13, Jul 8, 2002, 8:33:00 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

.

of Grecian turrets

       1.
he called her out
upon the precipice
of wire and hanging garden
in the drunkeness of midnight
       object of his intentions
and sweeping golden curls from about her face
he speaks meaningless
       caressing her heart with empty words
there upon the tower

       a moon of gold observing
       casting only shadows
gazing down
       upon the lovers' minstrations

       2.
alone she stood
high above existence
age-worn flesh wounds
       binding shut her mouth
dancing solemn insecurity
she waves her arms about the sky
       darkness illumined cold
her dress floating about her
       care-worn
aging shoulders
raising lipid pleading fingers heavenward
loneliness her only comfort

       a moon of cold observing
       casting only memories
gazing down
       upon love's lost daughter

       3.
he mounted solemn stairs
to sit alone and think
       words cascading
each tendril working its way within his mind
       as the flow of phrase
       and darkening dream
became as lovers entwined
a mass of complication
       embodyment of poetry sorrowful

       a moon of silence observing
       casting only confusion
gazing down
       upon scholarly delusions

       4.
the bitterness of winter
brought them heaveward
       where words cut
but do not fall unbidden upon sleeping ears
and the slience shouted between them
       backs turned to the wind
acrid fire burning bright
as fist to stone
       and crushing pain to existence
she cried out ceaseless
tears burning cold on sallow cheeks

       a moon of glass observing
       casting only passion
gazing down
       upon bitterness fulfilled

       5.
as the city sleeps below
silent they lay
wind whispers gathering
intertwined between taut fingers
and flesh speaking desire
sharp intake of breath
kisses flowing liquid sensual
       and night enveloping
as wine to their passion

       a moon of fire observing
       casting only longing
gazing down
       upon the coals of desire

       6.
rising to the sky
he spreads his arms
and voice ethereal uplifting
casts a spell upon the night
       each note
interwoven with the darkness
bending each crescendo
       each tonal rising, falling
with a song of timeless wonder

       a moon of ivory observing
       casting only shadows
gazing down
       upon the musicians' dreamsong

july 7, 2002
10:57 am

387

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of Grecian turretsby `spunj13

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this is your mission, should you choose to accept it.

lie back and relax....think of a beautiful city. an ancient grecian or roman city... how about pompeii before it was consumed by fire? (that's what inspired this poem for me) now think of all the towers and architecture all over the city... what do you see? what's happening in those turrets in the sky in the middle of the night?

this is a longer piece for me...but i think it worked out all right... six parts...each a small snapshot of a different tower.

1. the escapees from a party
2. the widow
3. the philosopher
4. the fighting older couple
5. the lovers
6. the singer/musician

[edit: i thought pompeii was in greece....shows what i know... doh :end edit]

//spunj13

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Submitted on: July 8, 2002
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Views: 387
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~milath Jul 28, 2002

i absolutely love the different images presented here. each image is perfectly executed and could easily be an entire piece on it's own.. together they belong though, and i enjoyed travelling through this little world if only for a moment or two through the words here.

as for pompeii. eh.. greece... italy.. they're pretty close. ;) (Wink)

milath

~summerdies Jul 18, 2002 Writer

Imaginative work described in a great form. A daunting undertaking that you pulled off very nicely. Your work with metaphor has steadily gotten stronger, vivid images paint each scene with depth.

~harlequin02 Jul 15, 2002

Fabulous job! The style and flow work very well together. Each perspective is so defined, you could read them in any order. If that was intended or not, it seemed to work out great! I tip my hat to you :) (Smile)

"I want to spawn epiphanies in every generation."
~harlequin02~ Jester

~aesta Jul 14, 2002

Among your best. You do keep getting better. I'd say this goes in the top 10 of all your poetry. Especially good was the first stanza of section 4. That stanza was truly masterful. The rest was fairly good as well, but that one part really pushes the poem up the ranks a few steps. Strangely, this time I don't really like the structure. Oh, well. Good stuff.

~82deg Jul 13, 2002

This is fabulous....short stories woven into a poem....and it turns out awesome, i love the way each stanza plays out the different people, in different stages of their lives, experiencing different emotions and thoughts :) (Smile)

Amazing work!

~strangelove Jul 12, 2002

i love #6, it gives me a sense of humanly beauty. this is excellent, very well put together. this really is a testament to ur skill and artistic mind.

~verbalize Jul 11, 2002 Hobbyist Writer

this is a great tapestry of tales woven into a wonderful poem, nice !

`kindred Jul 10, 2002 Hobbyist Writer

I'm not sure what to make of this, really. Don't get me wrong, I love it! But, it has so many parts to it that could lead me in different directions...I dunno. I'll just sum it up by saying "Out-Fucking-Standing!". That pretty much sums it up =D (Big Grin)

~geobyte Jul 10, 2002

This is almost miraculous...by constructing this you have only proved more what an articulate, idealistic mind you have. In each section you have people doing different things, thinking different thoughts. But in the end it all seems as though they are rather similar, in a way. Again, what a wonderful piece. This is probably the best I've seen from you.

`frail Jul 10, 2002 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

unbelievable

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of Grecian turretsby `spunj13

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