[x]

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.

had I wished for sight.My wish-on-me star,
whose ears I filled to secret’s brim,
whose implosions I hemmed
still layers deeper:

I’m sorry I wore stitches
and scabs with try-agains.

You sacrificed paper dreams,
Crumpling and sending airplane
answers until my skies were
wishgiving.

Apologies have sweetened
on tight-pressed lips—
a thick and sultry wine—

but you’re now constellating
apparitions, in city skyscapes;
and my vocal chords
are coarse sand

and silence.

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.

lessons in surrenderi.
She wished to be dressed in poetry
but she didn’t understand that
imagery fades and that metaphors
are too easily forgotten.

ii.
She asked why I didn’t utilize my
alliteration eyes—why I hid the tag
‘ hello my name is: writer ’
beneath San Francisco bays
and rotting ink grenades,
still in dead crusade.

iii.
I broke pencil shavings in
skybound veins, just to taste
the words
and I bled like a sinner
for mere dreams of some redemption.

“I’m only a poet of capitulation”

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.

You gave me sunset loveShe was grass-stained
with bleeding, bare-foot
dreams,

because she’d always said
that shoes were for porcelain girls
afraid of callous skin.

and she was not fear.
not anymore.

when it crept in on white
manicured edges,
she would make lions of trembling girls,
which craved and devoured
from her temples
a sunset-blossom
love.

You can't hurt me anymore.

Ink Languid [ I watched ]
she tore sanity
from poetry scabs,
manicures fraying—
chipping.

[ I wept ]
she chased words
beneath scarred vows
within her
drowsy veins.

[ I broke ]
she hung and sang
from her tired seams:

“I finally feel alive.”

.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.

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.

Supernova WakeThey star-gazed in his brain
(taking telescopes to lynching sanity)
to see just how he breathed…

how curtained eyes with lion’s mane
concealed inhaling pleas,
which carefully fell
from the shelter of paradox lips
and the crevices of chapped lies…

how tombstones bled into his teeth—
and heartbreak on his tongue—
and how under the belly of manta ray skies,

he laid to rest the dreams
he once did dare to dream.

In October.She is chameleons,

bare-tree umbrellas
somewhere beneath
Autumn’s underbelly,

beside once-remembered friends
of once-remembered pasts,

falling fragmented in kitchen sinks
and cleaning bottles,

still
breaking hearts for puzzles,

still
bandaging wounds on tables
of answers without questions;

and she is still unknown
come next October.

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.

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

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

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)

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Submitted: January 26
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[x]

a new ocean to explore.

by ~Nullibicity, Jan 26, 2013, 8:44:24 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Traditional Fixed Forms

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.

a new ocean to explore.by ~Nullibicity

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Traditional Fixed Forms

I seem to always give pieces of myself like souvenirs... but back to the poem: I had a lot of fun writing this! I wrote this more with a tune in mind, and therefore I tried to discipline myself into giving it a structured rhythm. I hope it can be received well!
_{_{(also, if this is in the wrong category please let me know... it just didn't seem free verse to me )}}

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*imaginative-lioness Mar 14, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I have featured this piece in my journal: [link]

~Nullibicity Apr 3, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you, I am truly honored.

I especially am grateful someone liked this piece: It is a little different from my usual

Thank you, again (:

=schongslipper Feb 2, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Hmm... I don't like the rhymes as they stand, but I feel like they would be a lot better in song form. Is there any way I can hear it?

~Nullibicity Feb 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I've put no tune to it... but if I ever do, I will make sure to contact you.
Perhaps some time I will be able to? Who knows. I am closer to exploring the art of writing songs, however, and that would be thanks to you. I really appreciate you pushing me out of my comfort zone when I need to pushed, and I am really grateful to you for being so honest with me on whether or not I turn out successes or works-in-progress.

You really have helped me grow so much!

=schongslipper Feb 5, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I'm so happy I've been helpful! It's been pleasure to be able to give feedback, so it's no problem at all

~Choque-Plumbeo Jan 27, 2013

love it

~Nullibicity Jan 27, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I am glad you liked it!!
Thank you for taking the time to comment

I really appreciate it!

~RenosGirl77 Jan 27, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Lovely!

I could almost smell the sea in this one.

~Nullibicity Jan 27, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

You are always far too kind to me. Thank you

~RenosGirl77 Jan 29, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Nonsense!! You are always most welcome.

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a new ocean to explore.

a new ocean to explore.by ~Nullibicity

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