[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.

Dandelion QueenI dream of the ocean;
that paper-thin line where
the current swallows the stars
and the water churns violet

(you tell me to be
quiet,

dandelion queen, we've
heard all these words before)

tonight
I will sleep heavy
and wake a few hours before dawn,
only to forget my name

my wave-weathered heart will cry,
I will cry (my biggest fear
is drowning in too many
of my own weighted words

you tell me to be
quiet
so I can hear the world breathe)

I want to go home

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

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 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

with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels 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?

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.

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

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

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 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.

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

hypochondriacal wanderingsyou coughed,
i sneezed

and a little demon in my chest began strewing the wedding-rice
of infection,
contaminants
and
germ-borees,
a mucal extravaganza
in my nasal cavities

and i'm melting now, i'm melting
my lungs are heavy with the liquid of your sins prenatal,
(saline and similar, anyways)

a rib and bacon-crackle
mental
fear.

jack was already dull, you seehomework as a tangible object
full-price anything
musical interruption
'til your ears bleed

fragments of thoughts and thoughts of fragments
an overall atmosphere of
drudgery-warm-air-
humidity

a freak show through the internet,
wiki-
pediating

genital, congenital
degrading or surgical treatment

distractions.

dances 'til twelve on the dot, and then
the great cell-towers,
radio signs fall silent

and you're gone.

last road openepisodic, catatonic
lie on the floor
while you lie in my arms

and there's this light in the dark,
blinding the moths
and searing my eyes,

spaces and faces
the hole between your lies

and the hard road home.

centripetal citycentripetal city,
lost souls wanted
grim faces welcome
sadness sought out
to soften the the smooth curves of heaven.

bisque porcelain
and china dolls
the antithesis to your disappointing mail-order bride,
smiling and cheating in the end.

the grime in the subway's been creeping up your spine.

immaculatathe thickness of the artery behind the neck
thus in the spirit of the white,
the alcohol

a prayer

worship at the shrine of pale-skinned murder victims
faceless and nameless in the highest of contrast,
thrice-Xeroxed darkness

the cleanest girl

[irony of the vodka spilled all over her carpet]

&given all the choices in the world,
he'd do it all over again

brand-name nail polishbusywork and chatter,
an extension of an invitation into airspace,
a call

oblique reference to

power shutdown,
a brownout followed by a breakdown followed by a blackout
candles in the darkness,
electrical hum to go with your meditation

intuition

stop telling lies and start telling it
how it is

i saw you all in songs
on television

Red Star lips
and a chewing-gum smile
anxiety and charm

sure, you said, we've been making some
progress.

sure, i said,
sure you have.

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it arrived

by ~consolecadet, Feb 24, 2012, 12:59:35 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

impale yourself on your own damn words,
drive the pen like an angry lover

rub cream on your knees where the purple-blossom bruises grow
make a bet on the number of tequila shots you can down before passing out

wake with your head in the toilet,
perfectly clean

a santitized breakdown when all you wanted was some good old-fashioned alley dumpster dirt.

it arrivedby ~consolecadet

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2012-2013 ~consolecadet

writing about being physically self-destructive is the closest i get to being physically self-destructive.

that's not to say i haven't made some rash choices, but my rash choices have more to do with words i regret and decisions to get emotionally involved with things i can't handle.

could be worse, i guess?

~~love 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~NamikazeH4 Mar 16, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

_{I once have done something I promised myself I wouldn't do: writing on my hand. It's not healthy and I'll probably get poisoning somehow but I hated myself then.

The words were really encouraging, too.

The first line made me fall in love. And that third... part. (I know the Indonesian word. Sadly not the English.)
The whole poem.}

Reply

!morbidthrall Mar 12, 2012

Brilliant!!

Reply

~Lottie-Girl Mar 12, 2012 Student General Artist

Interesting piece.

Reply

!cIassica Mar 6, 2012 Writer

_{i relate to this.
i love this.
very nice work. ♥}

Reply

~consolecadet Mar 7, 2012

i'm sorry (i think? i hope you're not hurting yourself D

thank you <3

Reply

!cIassica Mar 7, 2012 Writer

_{no, but in the past, yes...unfortunately. but things are much better! (:

and you're very welcome! ♥}

Reply

~consolecadet Mar 7, 2012

i'm glad things are better. <3

Reply

!cIassica Mar 8, 2012 Writer

_{thank you. ♥}

Reply

*KaitForest Feb 25, 2012 Writer

oh mai,
i love this!

Reply

~consolecadet Feb 25, 2012

thank you! this is one of the first i've written in a while that i like at all. . .

Reply

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