[x]

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

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

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 anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a

PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint

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?

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

SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to 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 replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.

Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,
you'd be wrapped in the sweetest
perfumes
(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 nymphs
in 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 arms
soon
(oh, you precious
little thing.
how

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

Puppet My tears fall,

like invisible

diamonds.

My heart beats,

like soundless

drums.

Unwanted,

because of the

strings attached.

A Night By the FireNo light,
The light sired by the night
All above whilst the day's delights
Now 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 ablaze
And revel in the emanating heat as you gaze,
Looking down on occasion when you hear a crack from the fire
And 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 shore
And 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 badly
I tried my hardest to rest
I closed my eyes and laid there
But sleep didn’t come easy
I would doze off
And wake back up
Again
Why me? When I know I have to be up at 3 AM.

DangerousMermaids; they seduce you then hold you under
Vampires; will kiss your lifeblood away
Mages, will turn your own mind against you
While trolls will hunt you down if you stay
Run through the woods, don’t stop for nothing
Monsters wait with jaws opened wide
Ignore that pretty elf, who’s probably plotting something dark
For she will torture you once she’s lured you inside
Orcs; will have a craving for your flesh
While dwarves are just prejudiced against your height
Dragons are very skilled when it comes to fire
While faeries will torment you throughout the night
So run little weakling, don’t stop now
The faery realm has go

Seaside HolidayI am content
to stay
a caterpillar

Who says
you have
to change?

What's so great
about being
a butterfly?

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More from ~consolecadet

if my heart could talkhey, head
where have you been?
i've been thinking
(and that's your job, you know)
maybe we are better off without you.

meet me at midnight in the peritoneal cavity
i'll bring a flashlight, you bring your neuroses and a glass of apple juice
i've known you long enough to know you don't like it
you've known me for six thousand years, so why can't we be friends?

i would like to give you a stern talking-to
an intervention, a gift from the rest of your organs
the ribcage, lungs, external nervous system and i are all in agreement:
you need to get your act together;
anyone with a careful eye can see your stitching's come undone--
i hope

this is not what i meantsirens, alarm bells
stumulus, response
observationdeduction
have i said this before?

i wonder if you know that i'm nobody,
the one they warned you about
a warm soft exoskeleton
with cold keyboard hands
zipper mouth,
camera eyes that see you everywhere

a distraction;
i'd say diversion, but diversions are fleeting
and so are bird-bones

not little fingers, delicate dehydrated veins
fingertiptouch, shared sensation
grey backseat upholstery,
energy-efficient reduced-emission car

physical contact, acceleration
(cars, heartrate)
one hundred and forty beats per minute

i'm dreadfully distracted;
amused that when i forget to breath

dear julietdear juliet,

what happened to you?

i saw you dancing last tuesday; you were beautiful as ever.
when you spin, your hair fans out.
it looks like fiber-optic cable, super-fine filaments of glass
a connection

--we made a connection, you and i
you with with your eyes like headlamps, and mine of aluminum,
enamel-coated

continuum, continual
the steel-door vaccum, protect
read EVAC when it says EVA
extra-vehicular activity; any actions taken outside the safe zone
the silence was enough to break your eardrums

the beat was loud enough to break your eardrums
i could feel the floor shake, resonating
(sound waves, vibration)
regular mors

avogadro's numberthere are ten thousand compliments in my head
and none on my tongue, or in the air.
do you know, i know exactly
what it is i'd like to say

a hundred thousand anecdotes,
observations and deductions,
things i love about you;
i'd love to say.

but
do you know, i don't know
(yes, again, and it's been bothering me)
why the depths of conversation elude me

there are a lot of things i don't know.
about me, about you.

but
you--i love to make you laugh
you wore striped socks, last time i saw you
(a lot of people's feet get cold like that
it's not usually dangerous)
you aren't like the others

i--keep saying stupid things, not what

veins, a ribcagebrowsing through color plates, gray's anatomy
(the book, not the franchised television series)
he sees things of himself there
lungs, veins, a ribcage

is this what i am?, he thinks.
he is a bundle of nerves
here, the pictures say, let me name them.
we are impartial and willing

a bundle of nerves, bundle of sticks
bone marrow and systematic failure
let me count them, the pictures say.
i already have, he says. i already have.

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identity

by ~consolecadet, Apr 28, 2012, 10:07:59 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

i am not special;
i do not look pensive in photographs,
not even candids

i study serial killers sitting in sticky pine trees and i write stupid stories
and i dwell overly long on how i appear to other people.

i am no one in particular,
and i like it that way.

identityby ~consolecadet

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2012-2013 ~consolecadet

for j, i guess

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

Mood: Love

~Huks905 May 22, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Did you use lower case 'i's only because it adds to the feeling of un-specialness the person is talking about?
Love the poem!

Reply

~Lottie-Girl May 3, 2012 Student General Artist

Beautiful, insightful, simple, perfect.

Reply

*KaitForest Apr 30, 2012 Writer

i study serial killers sitting in sticky pine trees and i write stupid stories
and i dwell overly long on how i appear to other people.

Reply

*alapip Apr 29, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

uniquely
peculiarly
you
will do...

hah!

you
neither
win
nor lose.

Reply

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