[x]

Under a Witches SkyAnd lo there he said: "I am darkness rising"
— ‘an apparition bleeding into a dreaming sky
Distilled in the timbre of windswept voices,
black feathers enchant earth in fevered-song
Magick ebbs & shimmers thru earthen veins,
seething like a migration of hungry wolves
Silvery eyes peer, drinking the ether of souls;
watching the spirit world fold into the mists
And where Shadows and Witches conjure,
— myriad talons beshrew Winter’s prayer

For eons I hath wandered in forgotten lore
— a sleep walker thru ash & fire, hunting ..
Beneath Moon solemn and drifting,
I covet thy ghostly figure velvet, undressing
Pools of

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.

SpeakeasyI can feel you like a phantom,
sensation without touch,
like breath in winter
or a misty mountain morning
that stays with me
until the stars fall in evening.

Your eyes contain the secrets
your lips would dare to betray,
but your body tells the story
and I am trying
to read between the lines
of your paperback smiles.

A grazing touch, a covert glance,
the memories remain
as skin grows warm and red
beneath lying fingertips
that claim incidental contact
a thousand times a day.

Of course,
it's not the kind of thing we say
when we are speaking
without talking and feeling
without touching
and thinking without knowing...

all of the things

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

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.

WindowsHere am I, repeated,
and beyond waits everything
but everything is more
than I can bear.

I am not built for altitude
nor looking far afield;
groves and granite-sided mountains
stop my gaze

like rest for every tired wing;
a cover in the coldest time
snugged up beneath my chin.

Windows nothing more,
but safe lies there behind them
as the chambered hours pass;

safe sleeps there behind them
on the soft side of the glass.

We Can't Be Together.Every kiss you plant on my lips,
Takes a little bit of my soul away.

You're stealing the passion,
You're invading my heart,
And killing what emotion I've left untouched.
Stop this.
I can't love you.

I've tried to before,
Oh my god,
Have I tried.

Tried to unlock the doors to myself,
Tried to open up,
And let you in.
But as soon as I took one look,
Negativity took it's opportunity,
And struck the hot iron I'd been molding.

Every word you mutter
My knees falter under
You're killing me

You're my kryptonite
I'm your paradise
But in this odd peace that seems to be approaching
I can't find happiness.

We aren't meant to be together
But this

Poet as PainterThe world
Your dusty palette,
The pen
Your muddied paintbrush:

Dip into
The impossible
Colour
Of imagination

And stain
The pristine slate
With an
Image distilled.

BoyfriendI thought you were good.

You WERE good.

You played with my hair.

You held me when I cried.

You were a gentleman.

You made me laugh.

You kissed me.

You loved me.

I loved you.

It was then that I learned the truth.

The dirty, rotten, stinking truth.

About you!

You cheated.

You played with her hair.

You kissed her.

You loved her.

You made her laugh.

I saw you – don’t you dare deny it.

I saw you giving her that love.

That same love you gave me.

I break up with you.

You don’t even seem to care.

Did you ever love me at all?

Or was it only ever her?

Much later, you’ll realize what a mistake you made.

I

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.

Dry Spell I am immobilized by time.
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
fleeting,
evaporating
through the cracks of
my fingers and high

above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
words,
silences,
or actions
could possibly satiate it.

I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
or stretched
so far
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devo

untitledGold abundant at your feet,
Heart ripe and pumping on your sleeve,
And eternal admiration;
To say happiness has evaded you
Would be asylum-esque lunacy
For you have nothing to lose,
Fate is on your side,
The odds are in your favor infinitely
Do not waste the gift you’ve received

You Don't Know ItYou don't know it, but you kept me sane
I nearly went over the edge
With a knife in one hand and a gun in the other
But you grabbed me
Pulled me back on my own two feet
Emptied my hands
And when you realized that I couldn't stand on my own
You hugged me
Like a mother would do for her child
Like a friend would do for, dare I say, another friend

You don't know it, but when you saved me
I felt free
I felt wanted
I felt needed
I felt, dare I say, loved

You don't know it, but when you showed me kindness
I fell in love
In love with your kindness
That same sweet kindness you saved me with
It felt like I found a new home
One that I could be, dare

Pull Her Hair/Stare At The StarsThe ghosts have crashed their ship
on the other side of town,
you can see it from the second floor
all the way over here.
You can see the white clouds
rising from the wreck
and a nova of heat, a big bright
nova of warmth pulling the moths and wolves
out from the woods (with their noses up and searching).
You can smell the yearning like bees
leaving the hive, like the grizzly brown bears
on the jagged white mountains (concrete and imposing).
They call it fear,
but I see these ghosts
scrambling up into the sky
and I like to think it's
something different entirely.

clicheTo those who hold bird bones
on the edge of their limbs,
there are dissipated lungs
filled with skies
longing for pillars of fire
rather than bottled souls
kept in the brink of captivity
too big for sparrows.

To those with the cancer
of building and rebuilding
their minute sentences
into salt-shaken metaphors,
sometimes a whisper
trying to be a rhapsody
will never be the same as
a declaration,
an aubade on it's own.

To those who empty
their ash trays
like cremated dust onto
salivating pores and
two cents of syllables weeping
by your windowsill,
there's sand in your mouth.
sand so red that oxygen
will mistake it for blood
so your words wi

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HassLass den Hass dich nicht verleiten,
dich mit denen, die du hasst, zu streiten.
Der Kampf, er kann dir alles nehmen,
Freiheit, Wohlsein, gar dein Leben.
Und wenn du auch im Kampfe siegst,
gewonnen hast du dann nicht viel.
Blutge Flecken auf dem weißen Kleid,
und für die Welt nur noch mehr Leid.
Lass den Gehassten lieber ziehn,
such dem Kampfe klüglich zu entfliehn.
Was aussieht wie die Niederlage,
ist der Sieg für weitre Tage.
Kämpfen sollst du lediglich,
ist der Kampf umgänglich nicht.
Dann musst du schützen Leib und Lieb,
dann stärkt der Hass dich für den Sieg.

WunderWo alles klar und logisch ist,
da wünsch ich mir was Mystisches.
Alles kann man hier erklären,
weil nur Ursachen Wirkungen gebären.
Was dem Jüngelchen ein Wunder war,
ist dem Physiker schon lange klar.
Drum soll man nicht nach Wundern streben,
denn eins plus eins muss zwei ergeben.
Bleibt aber eine Ursache von Allen ungesehn,
muss man ihr Gewirktes als Wunder doch verstehn!
Also wünsch ich mir, dass eine Solche
mit ihren Wundern uns entzückt,
und wie sehr der Mensch auch forsche,
er die Ursach nie erblickt.

TraeumeIch tue, ich strebe!
Wer weiß, wie lange ich lebe?
Was ich träume, soll auch mal sein!
Ohne Trophäe kehr ich nicht heim!
Hab Träume recht viele;
sie sind meine Ziele,
auf dem Weg durch das Leben,
das mir ward gegeben.
Drum erbitt ich das größte der Glücke,
dass ich meine Träume noch rechtzeitig pflücke.

Last des SeinsSekunden sind wie Stunden,
stündig schlägt mein Herz.
Kann nicht schlafen, will nicht wachen,
die Last des Seins ist mir ein Schmerz.
Wo ich bin, da will ich nicht sein.
Wohin ich will, da komm ich nicht rein.
Wie ich's mach, es schlägt nicht ein,
steh am Ende immer nur allein.
Die Welt, die dreht sich,
dreht sich an mir vorbei.
Ich steh nur wie angewurzelt,
denn mein Herz wiegt schwer wie Blei.
Leg ich mich schlafen, hoff ich nur eins,
dass morgen früh die Sonne scheint!

BlumentopfDas Leben dreht sich nur im Kreis,
heute und morgen der gleiche Scheiß.
Nicht näher komm ich meinen Träumen,
bin hier bloß am Zeitversäumen.
Fort würde ich gerne gehn,
die Welt und Ihre Wunder sehn.
Doch leider ist das nicht so leicht,
mein Leben ist hier festgeeist.
An Schlechtes und an Gutes auch,
das Eine drängt mich, das Andre hält mich auf.
Aber ist woanders eine bessre Welt?
Oder hängt das doch nur an mir selbst?
Ist's nicht egal in welchen Blumentopf
man des Schönheit Samen stopft?
Wächst sie nicht hier wie dort,
wenn man nur fleißig für sie sorgt?
Hab hier viele Wurzeln schon geschlagen,
könnt zum Blühen nur mehr Sonn

TapferkeitAuch wenn der Weg steil und holprig ist,
will ich, dass du eines nicht vergisst:
Wer auf seinen Wegen schwitzt und leidet,
und auch große Risiken nicht meidet;
wer nicht aufgibt, sondern weitergeht,
sodass am Gipfel seine Fahne weht;
der kann am Lebensabend ohne Gleichen,
von den Abenteuern seines Lebens schreiben.
Also geh weiter wenn du fällst,
auch wenn du schon vor Schmerzen bellst.
Denn die schwersten Wege führn dorthin,
wo nur die Besten je gewesen sind.

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Abenteurerleben

by *fotominor, Jan 9, 2013, 1:56:24 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Wer immer in der Bude sitzt,
den trifft sicher nie der Blitz.
Doch auf Wunder darf er auch nicht hoffen,
ist seine Tür ja nur verschlossen.

Für ein Abenteurerleben
braucht es Stürme, Kampf und Regen.
Also nimm die Eier in die Hand,
geh jetzt raus und leb riskant.

Abenteurerlebenby *fotominor

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

One of the few poems I've written in my life.
About getting your ass off the chair!

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Abenteurerlebenby *fotominor

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