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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;
neither the Sun nor the 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.

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...

on excusesthe floor creaked with a pressing tone
and my toes crept sadly toward you.
i heard the sounds
deep inside of your throat-
before they could come out,
before you could think them,
before you could stutter an
apology.

i was up all night and
the thought that, you,
were sleeping somewhere
naked, with your fingers
stretching and your dreams
retching up what you couldn't
admit to awake- was too much for me.
maybe if i
was next to you while you
were dreaming, your body
would admit to me that you
loved me. and you wanted to make
me cum. it had been so long.

you blinked hard, fast
your eyes shaking, dying fish.
i pulled you apart
like the ribbon

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.

HollowHollow
Is her chest.

She feels around for emotions;
Sadness and anger is what she has mastered the best.

World moves around her
In top-speed rate,

While she stands still or get maneuvered around
Like a dense grey stone in the rapids of fate.

Erosion shapes her outsides
As a rough unapproachable being;

It builds up the pressure inside
Where she's really quite more softer than what you're seeing.

But don't expect for there to be a heart,
It's already shattered to pieces and is reformed from charred coals;

Even now and again it is crumbling apart;
Life has filled it with so many holes....

Hollow
Is her chest.

She feels no emotion,
Exce

EqualityEquality

Today my rainbow flag
Stands proud next to
The American flag.

Today my flag is counted
Equal. Represents equality
To our nation.

Today the rainbow flag
Represents the gay
Community not as a

Separate any longer
But as a whole. As
My state Minnesota
Legalizes gay marriage.

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.)

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.

BalanceWe tend to see the bad in the good
But not the good in the bad
And it turns out we missed
Just how much good we had
Because life is all ups and downs
As the saying goes
But instead of striving for ups
We just go with the flow
We overlook what’s around us
And only focus within
When it should be about balance
Like a bird in the wind

Too strong, too weakWe were on the verge of wisdom but
So young, still.
As young as the freshly born flowers,
Too weak for winter, too strong for love.
We've believed often that the world
Belonged to us
And we let our emotions take us deep.
We were young lovers,
Young haters,
Young liars,
And young fools.
My mother taught me to block out my tears.
She said that when we start feeling, truly feeling
We will sink into the abyss of madness.
"I will never love. I will never hate," said the golden girl.
"I will never cry. I will never fear," said she.

Prayer to Odin from experienceAl-father Odin! You who hung for 9 days and suffered on the tree of Yggdrasil.
In so you received and gave us the runes and its mysteries.
You who have given up an eye to see and know beyond sight and knowledge.
Allow me to be strong through my own sacrifice and suffering.
So that one day, I can achieve great wisdom through what has happened to me.
Allow my mind to open and to focus on what i must do.
One day, I cannot always criticize what is before me.
From experience, I was angry and put down a faith that i knew was untrue.
Though you may have smacked me upside the head a few times
for my foolishness and ignorance. But I did deserve it a

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

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

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

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your heap of boulders

by *lovelyloon, Oct 26, 2011, 5:19:34 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

_{your mouth is white and hunched,
and the air is thick with mountains
-- your brows are steep peaks
i see stone hewn in your head

there is a landslide behind your teeth;
i step -- beneath the rolling weight
of climbing free and far}

227

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your heap of bouldersby *lovelyloon

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_{your anger is a heap of boulders

*

Jayne was telling us about how when she was little, she believed that making her mouth small showed how angry she was. Nate and i instantly proceeded to make our mouths as tiny as humanly possible.
Nate's lips were white and hunched--and somehow, this poem was born that day.}

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Submitted on: October 26, 2011
File Size: 427 bytes

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~love1008 Nov 30, 2011

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*lovelyloon Dec 16, 2011

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