[x]

Bone-danceMy skeleton is night
and solace,
ever the drifter
in powdered skies and
hollowed sight.

These red rivers
stir and breathe
in bone-dance:
temptation’s lullaby
for a width and stretch of slumber.

Kisses give soul to
granite marble;
and my bones,
(oh, what dreaming bones):

they dance no more.

The Concept of PerspectiveI unfurl with lavender,
wild and stretching possibilities
within velvet serenity.

I sway joyously with conducting trees
and fall with musical, tumbling leaves,
recognition whole;

and for once,
time does not govern
but witnesses.

I change like the seasons,
no complicated reason...
just that I do;

it is as they always say:
some things, they never change.

Stardust.I partook in the poison
of your miracle, for
I believed you a magician:

You pulled chronic weariness
from my marrow—

my faith,
from hazy depths grown
too accustomed.

The eggs spoiled fast:
you pulled from your hat
an act of distrust,
and you left me

with stardust,

with stardust.

.Were We Not MarionettesI bend
as
she bends,
arms a graceful
bridge of mourning—

our eyes
rippling plains of remembrance.
(but at least we remember)

I lean beside
her,
both hopeless
heaps of wood
and string;

pirouettes fall
in time to blurry
rivers

and irises plead
only as allowed:

moisturizing this
shell of
splintered skin.

1/4/12 ( Sorry that these all suck so badly T^T )Migration's Flight

I wave from misty bogs,
knee deep in frosted ‘love,’
as agony flies from my chest,

like sparrows…

and they take off

in search
of colder climates.

David

I once set foot on a star
named David;

he was Saturn:
encompassed in perfect
unity.

He took my hair from clouds;
and in night,
he stilled my traveling bones.

And just as a star,
he imploded,
into someone else’s universe,

to revolve around someone else’s sun.

but what more could one ask
Of a star so bright?

Nephylym

You sit atop winged seraphs
and stake your claim of might;
I am ever still, sculpted heartbreak…
parasitic fr

Memory's ConsumptionI call to you in Autumn colors—
in naked trees,
which creak and groan
under weights of solemn sky.
Hear me…
Feel me…
Longing swells like appetite:
insatiable and aching;
breastbones creak atop pining hearts,
which pulse in lonely torment.

Eyes become searchlights,
wild hearts a detector…
while minds observe the
sweeping of memories beneath curled leaves:
perfect for concealing,
forgetting.

but far from forgotten is the feeling—
the reality:
I burrow beneath crinkled leaves
and hope
to be
found.

With every lungful of solitude
I breathe,
With every exhale of painful dependen

To You...Words… they were just words:
They could never be held
between ribs, engraved and memorized
with the sacredness of biblical verses
and loving confessions.

No matter how I drew
your devoted breath,
the beauty of words spoken
were lost;

their use was for mounting
need,
for surmising emotions only
fleeting and cold…

They never were tools to court,
s o f t l y ,
and to worship,
wholly;
they never gave to closed
hearts and eyes: They never made to feel.

To you,
words were frivolous—trivial
(and I was nothing but a rambling fool)

MelancholiaI crawled beneath the skin,
nails taking crescent moons
to labored arteries,
where life birthed.

I gave rash to skin, rippling in marrow,
bulging flesh and pore…
all to break free.

I laid beneath scarlet muscle
sick with Loneliness: a bittersweet
disease of rusting hearts.

I let it throb, pound—ache,
sulking within the cradle of spine,
rocking joints to solemn sleep…

and how easily resignation
was acquired,
for they were weary,
used to hunching to sorrows
resolute

and chronic.

Sea
Her love was bone white,
unblemished and
stunning

[ but never like diamonds. ]

Truth then became water to
pruning fingers and splitting lips,
while she drowned
in the mouth
of a liar like me.

Quieting the Sparrow
"Release me, now…
   I desire wind's flight."

You do not yet understand
the thrashing of feelings—
the bite of crooning words;

You know not the cruelty of man,
nor the tip of  his arrow…

Man hunts and stalks
beauty with sardonic blatancy—
elated and brimmed with delight.
He snuffs it out with senses akin to savage beasts,
crippling  prey with fearsome teeth.

However, amongst fear and shattered aspirations,
there is no greater rush than to hunt
and be hunted…

but once caught:
reality wakes cold.

UnfoundedI cram words within murky, hollow spaces,
replicating ways in which blood fills a wound.

I squeeze articles and adjectives—
supporting metaphors and similes—
into tight-fitting corners,
until that which is empty begins to bloat.

The ache of something missing,
the loss of one internal, now painfully unknown:
it finds no satisfaction within passion
and phrases so desperately created, upheld.

Why give transparent, misleading hope…
Does pleasure derive from humiliation—
the catalyzing of previously weakened hearts?
Where is the limit of cruelty defined,
if not in the cries and weeping of dreams:

Language wilts

a new ocean to explore.Selling souvenirs,
falling through the atmosphere;

my heart is nothing
but a thread on unsure sleeves,
fraying at the seams.

Yet I still come home to
your crystal clavicles,

giving salt to shores;

a new ocean to explore.

03 - Thy Autumn WaysThou abandons love like red, falling leaves:
Impossible (by logic) to foretell
But conversant of happenings thus seen…
Typical, vain: again love's naïve fool.

Metamorphic was thy nature, thy name;
Enticed to faults, I rested beside thee,
Within thy chrysalis to entertain.
Newly adapted, thou did desert me…

Aware I became to thy wicked ways,
Thy heart a quick bee, flitting from flowers…
Disdainful were acts to set love ablaze,
Attracted to variety's pleasure.

I hope Autumn ways morph to Winter chills:
Left, and desolate, with morals instilled.

with the only apathy I could feign. You and I:

makeshift souls of birdsong,
because we’d only word-etched ribs
and hearts incompatible with stillness.

We’d breathe trust in parallel irises,
just to see hope fall before ruin;
darkness was learned better swords than opponents,
and they stabbed as swift as sure.

I and You:

regretting in weeping,
for love never learned to be held—
for souls always seemed to be cracked
by each stretching tongue of longing.

Perhaps love is lost before it is found,
and perhaps love stays lost to hearts
gifted without the affinity for li

A Poet's RomanceShe was the quiet sort,
tsunamis tucked
within her eyes,
anxieties pinned
to pottery skin;

she would mold herself
into moonlight butterflies
and glist'ning calla lilies,

pure and white and
beautiful.

and when night cast
itself upon her in
heated, hard'ning flames,

she’d smash herself
upon the rocks
and in morning start
again.

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ChrysalisThese stammering heartbeats
felt in stuttering airways,
where butterflies came out as words of love;
caught harshly within your net,
subduing and possessing.

My innocence was shucked,
my freedom spread and pinned to paper…
before lips devoured me
with passions normally concealed—
with words left, and felt,
within each humid stretch of silence.

With each cocooned metamorphosis,
you kept me confined warmly…
stationary wings loved, still;
It is as my heart,
which loves until beat silent…

and silent I wish I was,
instead of loving and living
within seeds of carefully tended
naivety.

because words unspoken

EnzymaticIn my tears I drowned for you
when my cries could not grow fingers to r e a c h ;
you were apathy wrapped in silent smiles,
which touched and made to feel.

I felt you—discovered you,
like children sent scavenging for
hidden notes and clues;
you were a jagged jigsaw puzzle
lovingly pieced together…

Done in silence,
through studied observations
and tentative smiles aimed at shoulder blades;
you would never grant me access
if you knew my subtle intimacy…
left one-sided and aching like
goodbyes rolled into single nights of warm

SupernovaI teeter,
and I totter,
within my wooden frame:
a high-wire act
falling

Aspirations desire me
a paint-filled masterpiece,
until misery engulfs and claims.

Anticipation mounts
within ambition,
while I wait with goosebumps
scattered
across quivering exteriors.

Colors soon steal over me
like phantom hands of night
as paint caresses canvased skin,
so still and statuesque.

All at once, I colorfully

explode

like a
supernova,
within distant
depths
of universe;

an acrylic creation

Unfathomed.

View Gallery · View Prints

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Submitted: January 6
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Where I am known

by ~Nullibicity, Jan 6, 2013, 10:01:35 PM
Scraps

My heart is at home
in breezy points,
for it knows not warmth
to be comfortably smothered.

but my soul feels most safe
when hidden away,
for it fears the commitment
of being committed.

_{and what of me?}

I feel most safe
inside phantoms of darkness,
where one cannnot know my craving…

for I crave the destructing
presence of company…

always aching, itching,

burning.

12 Comments

Where I am knownby ~Nullibicity

Scraps

For all that I am and all that I know.
-------------
Something inspired me. This inspiration is fleeting nowadays, so I tried to snatch it up. Your thoughts would be much appreciated... especially if they pertain to the ending: I find myself unsure. (Hopefully I'm still mixing up my style)

_{Critique/feedback is most appreciated!}

=schongslipper Jan 11, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Hmm. This has a sing song meter to it, which makes it into a corrupted lullaby. I like that definition of it, for it lacks the imagery of your usual style and instead seems to calmly ponder depression. It's very interesting. Nice variation!

~Nullibicity Jan 12, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I had to reread it, and I must say there is a different meter than usual. I'm a person who secretly longs to create music one day (the kind that can produce tears, even if it is simply a song without words)... to hear it sounded like one, then, made me actually happy. Your description of it being "a corrupted lullaby"... what beautiful words; they simply stunned me. I'm unsure if this poem is deserving of such a gorgeous description, but I am glad to have received it, nonetheless. (:
I'm happy to hear it was, indeed, a variation; I knew something felt different, but I was unsure if I could name it. I hope the lack of imagery was not too disappointing or distracting... nevertheless, it was an interesting growing experience for me!
Thanks for your comment!

=schongslipper Jan 12, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I'd love to hear that music. You should try out song writing!

~Nullibicity Jan 18, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I might dip my toes into the water... but I honestly don't know where to start. Perhaps one of these days I'll just experiment and see where that takes me.

=schongslipper Jan 20, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Go for it. I suck at writing songs, but the attempts were fun nonetheless.

~Nullibicity Jan 21, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

~LovelyRangel Jan 7, 2013

Ooo! Gave me chills. Beautifully written too. I liked it.

~Nullibicity Jan 7, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

You are so kind!!! Thank you so very much!

I was so excited to hear it gave you chills... it was such a compliment! I thank you once more for your wonderful comment; I am really appreciative towards the fact you took your time to leave one. It means a lot to me! (:

~sleepy-kisses Jan 7, 2013 Hobbyist Digital Artist

"For I crave the destructing presence of company" I love that line, I feel like that often

~Nullibicity Jan 7, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I'm actually happy that I've found someone else who can understand this feeling; when I explain it, no one has ever expressed understanding. The fact you can understand makes me relieved... though it's not very relieving to feel such an emotion.
Thank you so much for your comment: I am very grateful. I'm glad you liked it!

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