|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
What Is ThisI don't understand this feeling.
My hands are shaking.
My mind is whirling.
My heart... racing?
No, that's a lie.
She asked me if I was crying.
I was not.
It's not one of those feelings
She can inspire so well
with her delicate words,
never on purpose.
Maybe I really am just
I sit here.
In the confines of
A dark, lonely room,
Light of an unfeeling machine,
Striking my face.
And at the same time,
while I sit here,
and my hands shake,
splashing soda on my face,
my mind whirling,
I feel calm.
The BakerI think they killed a baker for his bread today.
I can't remember a time of happiness in Paris. The wind carries the quotes of philosophers who tell of freedom. It carries the tales of rebellious wishes and I feel them. Oh, I feel them too.
My baby sister is starving. My mother is starving. My father is starving. I am starving. I am watching all I care for waste away. My stomach is gnawing on itself, growling and snarling like some insatiable beast. My head is floating in the clouds.
I gave my food to mother today. I gave the bread my father fought for in the mob after the murder of the baker to my mother for my sister. My meal was dirty Paris air instead. Was it worth it? Was it worth being selfless and kind, was it worth the extra step closer to starvation?
I'm afraid to die. I have barely lived, only fifteen years. I am but skin and bones. It feels like my skin is stretching over my bones! My dresses hang limply off my body. All of us in Paris look like this. We are walking skeleton
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
Stranger's funeralUnder the clouds
Under the rain
Staring at the coffin
At a stranger's funeral
We're all alone
Feeling the storm
But not the pain
For he's but a stranger
And the graves around us
Are just there
Keeping us company
During this empty moment
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be one of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
I Miss...I miss the old days.
The days where I could think straight.
The days where I looked forward to the day
With a smile on my face
And I knew it would turn out alright,
Not with worry eating me out
About what would happen.
(Who's going to be hurt today?)
I miss the old days.
The days where my friends weren't hurting,
And neither was I.
The days where we all laughed together,
About nothing and everything.
(When do I get to laugh again?)
I miss the old days.
The days where we didn't cry.
The days jealousy was out of our reach.
The days where you smiled,
Where I smiled,
Where we all smiled.
(I miss you guys, I miss your smiles, I miss your laughter, I miss...)
I miss the old days.
Where have those days gone?
Keep in Touch!