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The Suicide of the VirginAugust is the cruelest month, breeding
Cypress on the campus, mixing
Change and unfamiliarity, stirring
Poison into these drinks.
The promise of demise kept my heart warm, covering
Sorrow with plastered smiles, feeding
An insightful mind with rotting tubers.
Death came quickly, jumping from the highest building.
In that soft rain; I came to a halt on the concrete,
My memories of you in the sunlight, my last thoughts,
And how we sat in the stairwell, for hours talking.
Wie werden uns wiedersehen.
When I was young, staying with my grandfather,
Poor widower, he took me on a walk,
and I was happy. He said, Maria,
Maria, listen to me. And he told me never to fear death.
For it is inevitable, a part of life.
I went home and contemplated what it meant to die.
Why does this feeling clutch at my heart, why does it grow
from what was once full of love? I am but a daughter of man.
And I know not much more than the fact
that I am broken, an image of what has been.
And death merely gives the
WretchWretched soul, wretched soul.
The clock strikes four-
but never moves.
You look to the window,
for the ones you have lost
(begging for the pity of your womb).
Alone you'll perish;
Empty as a dusty cellar.
And although the fault lies with only you,
it is something you shall never understand.
:R a i n:The rain fell endlessly from the sky, each drop rhythmically hitting the old roof. It was especially audible from the attic in which I sat, watching the rain hit the lake from the singular, cracked window in the dusty room. Slowly, I traced nonsensical figures on the window, using the fog made from my damp breath as a form of paint. Staring at it for a moment, I suddenly became incredibly unhappy at my art and wiped it away with my jacket sleeve.
That was when I noticed a figure walking to the lake shore, small from where I sat but seemed like a girl in her late teens. Slowly, ever so slowly, she walked into the water, until she was waist deep. She looked to the sky, her now sopping wet hair sticking to her face. Thinking back, she seemed to gather some form of… Courage from whatever she found in that rainy sky, before she peacefully sank into the water. The villagers didn’t find her until it was much too late.
“That’s the fifth one this year,” I murmured
WinterThese oceans of blood,
consuming my soul.
Like sheep to the slaughter,
fear seeps into my bones.
I ponder the meaning of the few
seconds my life is
in the wake of these magnificent
my pockets are empty and my
mind is blank.
GrudgeMonsters crawl from the depths
of my soul.
I find my mind cannot take the horror
of years past,
while my heart pleads for silence
[that I can't find]
A step above the restLook down at me from above
(atop that towering plain) -
and wonder why all those ants
gnaw at you 'till you're falling like a
wave crashing to the shore
of some long-lost
my sun-bleached bones lay upon the
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
Stranger's funeralUnder the clouds
Under the rain
Staring at the coffin
At a stranger's funeral
We're all alone
Feeling the storm
But not the pain
For he's but a stranger
And the graves around us
Are just there
Keeping us company
During this empty moment
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be part of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
to crumble up
the remnant pieces
of my love for you
and throw them in the trash
but I'm such a bad shot.
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
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