Posted 17 February 2003 - 10:19 PM
Posted 18 February 2003 - 04:09 PM
Posted 18 February 2003 - 11:33 PM
my mother was a hero
in our cool airy house,
her rollers and silver pans
filled the bedroom walls
with icy blue paint
on her ladder with
a paisley bandana and
the jeans she still wore.
My dad drank crystal light
lemon flavor, from the
blue Rubbermaid pitcher
on his favorite brown chair.
It sat in the living room
then; on the beige carpet
next to the stain where I threw up the year before.
The chair has a dark spot where
his head lay after
the bike rides he still took
zooming up the winding
paths of the valley in
the Technicolor sunsets while
Mom reached up with her blue paint.
I walked up and down the stairs:
first bedspread that matched the new blue,
then the brown chair’s ottoman and
it was a good Saturday.
Posted 19 February 2003 - 02:55 PM
Posted 14 March 2003 - 08:51 PM
collected under your eyes
working on breaking the
frozen metaphors beside
blue skies melt
like ice cream
in my mind.
you shout for me to change and i agree
but i am already changed
in that i am incapable
i am capable of lust
and poker-struck luck
in shock and aware of the
i am dancing on the lucid headache.
Posted 14 March 2003 - 08:55 PM
moving across the open lines
i want to watch it melt
on the break
i want to feel the pain
and hold it close
to never let it go.
i cough the violence
under my skin and i
but the death is coming
soon i will breathe free.
Edited by LittleRedShoes, 14 March 2003 - 08:59 PM.
Posted 14 March 2003 - 09:12 PM
slowly blood soaking
through the bandaid
no one's skin color
and the cringe in me as i
fall to the floor
messed in the pale confrontation
and the eyes punctuating
bracing the laughter
a brain freeze
blink of an afterlife
cheeto-cheese on my fingertips
orange nails bent
the broken duet
going for the
of the shattered-tooth
listening for the
and it is peace
Posted 15 March 2003 - 11:40 PM
i submerge myself
in your waters
but that's ok
i've got built up bitterness
rushing thru my veins
i've got cold blood
rushing thru my water main
i submerge myself
but i can handle it
but every promise is a lie
every lie is its own truth
and my mirror says i'm ugly
but your fingers say
i submerge myself
in your blankets
while your chest rises and falls
in rythm with mine
fly thru my brain
you call me a (BITCH) tiger
you yell at me when
i act tame
i submerge my body
i taste you
in all your private places
do you mind?
now i'm feeling pretty (STUPID) tired
lying in my bed in my home
i just want to sleep for a few hours
but i don't want to be alone
i guess i could get used to it
Posted 16 March 2003 - 12:09 AM
make me rise
i need you
Edited by seperatedsiamesetwin, 26 May 2003 - 07:23 PM.
Posted 16 March 2003 - 02:05 AM
and you threw the dart
you dont aim to please
and you broke my heart
Posted 16 March 2003 - 02:07 AM
fly to me
on your broken wings
i'd be your nest
but all the trees
are burnt down
we'll just wander
this ashey town
Posted 16 March 2003 - 03:54 AM
BLUE SKYS AND BUTTERFLYS
I'M BEGGING ON MY KNEES
WHEN WILL YOU SEE
IT'S NOT FOR ME
I take my pencel to the wall
Write my suicide letter in the hall
you talk about me behined my back
time to see if you will survive the last attack[
Edited by Adryan, 16 March 2003 - 03:54 AM.
Posted 16 March 2003 - 09:57 AM
A Catamapotamus, now what is that?
Is that half hippo and half cat?
Or a Dogamapotamus, now this is odd.
It must be part hippo and part dog.
And a Fishamapotamus, what's this about?
I know! It's half hippo and half trout!
But a Birdamapotamus? Now this is obscured!
It must be part hippo and part bird.
Each animal is different and unique,
Like a cat, or a dog, or a bird with a beak!
Now all of those animals would make nature a fright!
But a hippopotamus? Now that sounds just right!
(I know, I know...really corny. Like I said, I was in 6th grade)
Edited by calvinNhobbes, 16 March 2003 - 09:58 AM.
Posted 16 March 2003 - 03:06 PM
her life was a storybook
with pretty pictures
hate and anger showed no existence in her colorful orb of perfection
among the pages in the storybook
danced little imperfections laughing at the girl
she turned the page
erase that image
imperfection can’t exist, no not in this story
day by day she ended each story with a sigh
her perfect storybook was beginning to turn into a novel of flaws
beyond the images she saw, she saw more
things appeared awkward, like they never appeared before
she shook in disgust as it covered each page
flipping flipping, turning turning
each one was infected
“infected with filth. Infected with imperfections,” thought the girl
she wanted the storybook to end
she didn’t want to start another
except those weren’t imperfections
appearing across the pages
those were just mere thoughts of imperfection
just like she craved
Posted 12 November 2004 - 02:46 AM
BECAUSE YOU MUST MAINTAIN WATCHA GOT.
AND LATE AT NIGHT THEY SING ALONG TO A SONG.
THE ONE AND ONLY.
THE LITTLE WHO IS ALIVE AND WELL.
AND THEY LOVE.
FATHERS NEVER RESPECT.
THEY ARE DISCARDED, NEVER CONCIDERED.
THEY CAN DO ANYTHING THEY WISH TO.
SO WHEN YOUR WATCHING NEXT TIME.
REMEMBER, THE PRETTY ONES…
ALL STARS, IN A PLACE WORTH NOTHING AT ALL.
HELP TO MAKE LINES ON THE GROUND PEFECT.
Damn that show Secret Life Of Us...
0 user(s) are reading this topic
0 members, 0 guests, 0 anonymous users