[x]

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.

XXXXXEven now,
part of me
(my hands)
want to
pull out
that glass
she lodged
in her neck.

Pull it out
and drop it
into pieces,
or keep it
in the back seat
of my car.

Where it can
lay a while
and stare at me.
Part of me
(my chest)
is not afraid
of demons.

It is far less
dangerous
than girls with
haphazard knives
and other
monsters.

Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for?
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude

False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen

Chasing Butterflies

I believe in starry nights writing timeless songs
of all the yesterdays and tomorrows yet to come.

I believe in hearing the voice of love in rhyme;
I heard it as a child in my mother's lullabies.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

I believe in playing, absorbing life's full sun,
dancing through the day until the night is done.

I believe in wishing wells never running dry,
granting us the time for a tender, slow goodbye.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

Should I cross to the other side,
don't you worry; don't you cry.

There you'll see where tomorrow I'll be,
forever chasing butterflies...

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along

False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.

ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).

Evolution of life

child, we dream
teenager, we have ideas
adult, we have a bar code encrusted in the nape

we evolve to finish in the matrix

False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire

On The Collapse Of Modern Society"I've never seen so many folks
putting their hopes
in packaged air,
as far as I'm concerned,
and from what I've observed
misplacing material worth while
rushing back and forth
to get nowhere."
my Grandma said,
shaking her head.

Within A BoxIt's a prison for the minds of haunted souls
an odd prison, not large enough to contain its prisoners
and yet it encompasses every fiber of their being
in silent, silent spaces.
Haunted souls are searching for the key
there is no key, but they don't know any better
and what harm could it do? Hope is better than nothing
here's an unlocked open door for you.
Little trinkets haunt souls with their questions
and we want answers, but they won't give
anything away. Very smart,
you know the world is ending soon.
(The best of which are only
crude descriptions of the magic
they are looking for.)

HumanDear Hypocrite,

What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

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See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No EvilClose your eyes
and count to three
If you can't see it
it's not there

Floating in a space that does not exist in your world
watch the black on back of your eyelids
as it paints a perfect childhood
there are no bruises to be seen
when your eyes are closed

Cover your ears
scream at the top of your lungs
if you cannot hear it
there couldn't have been a sound

Sound waves canceled out
sent back to where they came
bouncing off the back of your hands
swallowed up by your gaping mouth

Yelling in the kitchen ceases to exist
smashing beer bottles and cries to stop
are only things of the imagination

If you don't talk about it
it nev

Suffocate MeJust hold tighter
hold me down
pin me to the ground

It's what I'm used to
after hours of being forced to listen
to the sound of my own crying
my own screams

screams tearing my throat
I can still feel the blood dripping
no matter how many times I scrub my skin
I still see hand prints

Close up the hole within me
smother it into oblivion
cover it with your own body
suffocate me

That's what I'm used to
hands clutching my throat like it's holding him to earth
if he let's go...
no, it doesn't matter he never let go

Feeling the flow of air
from his lungs to my face
breath on me
make me take in only your oxygen
that's what I'm

Stay for TodayScrew yesterday and
Keep tomorrow on your mind
I'll still be waiting

My Hourglass FigureUnsure and stuttering
you ask me
ask for everything
ask for too much

I refuse to take your pleas
to look at those desperate eyes
overflowing with pent up emotion

Leave me be
watch your reflection bounce back at you from cold glass
I have no time left to give
that's what you want, isn't it?

My time
more time
time, time, time

The sand in my hollow body has just about run out
leaving me empty
with false hopes that I might be turned over
giving me a few more hours on the clock

I used to be a work of art
now only cracked glass
wishing less life was wasted clinging to falling sand

I can give you other chances
if you help me

F

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Hand-Me-Down Confidence

by ~LyingViaPoetry, Dec 12, 2012, 6:20:15 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

A waste
keeping me here
unwanted, clinging to pretenses of expectancy

Why not just leave
waiting has hurt us
not to mention
what shall happen at the end of all this

All eyes on me
their fierce gazes pushing me farther into the floor
I need to stand taller
chin up, chest out

Confidence keeps slipping off my shoulders
like a hand-me-down jacket
it will never fit right

And the one who could lift me up
has not found anything worth looking at in me
warm chocolate eyes focused on more important things

A feeling of insignificance settles over me
ripping my jacket to shreds
falling to the floor in a pile of defeat

Hand-Me-Down Confidenceby ~LyingViaPoetry

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

I feel like total shit right now, don't judge.

Critique by ~Michel-le-fou Dec 12, 2012, 10:47:50 PM

OK, what impressed me immediately was your use of tercets, albeit unrhymed. That is the choice of the poet always. The content-and I aver that it matters more than form-is interesting, perhaps riveting. On the surface, on both counts, it displays originality and imagination, which I herald in literature. The tercet struck me immediately, and it should do with every reader; that compels reading further.
The following stanza are quatrains, which are standard form in poetry too. The old poets including Persians like Kayam, wrote them ably.used Every detail was entertaining despite the solemnity of the subject. Keep writing and submitting.

Join #literatureforall. Your work is welcomed.

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*bloodawni Feb 16, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

This is a lovely exploration of feeling less-than-confident, but I hope you're feeling better about things now!

~LyingViaPoetry Feb 16, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you and I kind of am now actually

*bloodawni Feb 16, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

You're welcome and I'm glad!

~tiajones Dec 12, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

i feel that your entire poem could be condensed to these lines-

"Confidence keeps slipping off my shoulders
like a hand-me-down jacket
it will never fit right

And the one who could lift me up
has not found anything worth looking at in me
warm chocolate eyes focused on more important things"

and i think that's absolutely lovely,
because we've all been there,
we all know, but we don't know how to speak it.
you did. <3

~LyingViaPoetry Dec 12, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you

~tiajones Dec 12, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

of course. (:

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