[x]

Orange skin

My dearest,
Your orange skin makes me warm in December
like the Sea is a blanket to the sand
and the Sun nurtures youth to our land

i'll be Your pocket -
You may keep all Your secrets inside of me
be shy and be not

there's nothing You should be afraid of
while You're here, with me
on this Pale Blue Dot.

Deux-piece

i gave my heart to a crocodile
but
he used it as a toothpick
so
i took it back
and

gave it to Charlie Chaplin
but
he kept playing the dictator
so
i took it back
and

gave it to Houdini
but
he'd make it disappear every morn
so
i took it back
and

gave it to the Beatles
but
they threw it to their lunatic fans
so
i took it back
and

gave it to my chest
but
it was dark and bloody in there
so
i took it back
and

gave it to You,
my Unloneliness,
to stuff it next to yours -
i heard from your veins
there's room enough for Two
in your rib cage.

the world is full of monsters
from perth to timbuktu -
they bark, they growl, eat lobsters,
but none of them is you.

there's herbs down in the garden
that grandma puts in stew -
my dear, i beg your pardon,
but none of them is you.

there's billionaires that joggle
like monkeys at the zoo -
their heart's wearing a toggle,
but none of them is you.

there's plenty 6 foot tall men
whose love i can't undo -
Juanito, Freddy, Dhaval, Ben,
and all of them is you.

Like petals and leavesWhen she thinks of him, she thinks of tree branches:
spindly fingers spread out, stretching
in angles wide for handfuls of sky.

And she thinks of him.

She thinks of him digging his toes
into soft, damp sand,
wading in shallow depths before
being carried by crescents of the sea.

She thinks of him in a blur of curls, in the
warmth on her waist and the coolness on her lips,

pressing the memories and the maybes
like petals and leaves
to paper.

And she thinks of him.

6:30:09what i wouldn't give
to have my body sink down
into yours, cocooned
in the tumultuous quicksand
of human flesh.

i have never been so moved
as by your touch, the slinking seeping
brush. the universe dispels
and in the absence of everything,
i am less alone
than i have ever been.

Baby's lullabyall of the children went to their beds,
a soft starry light guarding their heads;
hush now baby, don't you weep,
silence is just music put to sleep.

red leaves and Robert Frost.When I was young, my virginity was sacred. Entire religions pray over it and my father bought a gun so long as it meant protecting it.

We throw away half of our refrigerator each week – meanwhile, 24,000 people die of starvation every day.

Hardest part is, sometimes wasting things can't be helped.

At the bus stop, before I could drive, boys would ask for my phone number while I tugged up the neck of my shirt. Asked me how old I was while I crossed my legs under my skirt.

I told them I had a boyfriend even when it wasn't true, because they'll always respect another man more than my disinterest.

Hearing "I love you" for the first time

11 3i've been sitting under

the same tree for days and now
the leaves are leaving and now

the bark is peeling and

is this what they talk about
when the sparks all flicker
out?

i've been stoned enough
times to be called a martyr and
my mind's been getting hazy

lately

how do they expect me to answer
all these prayers?

i'm not a saint, i've just got
no grasp on sin.

WaitingWe are still waiting for the thunder from the distant stars,
The echo of mortality,
the whispers of a storm, half-remembered,
in sepia-coloured hallways in buildings that smell like books.
Time gets slow in waiting,
ghosts are formed from the wanting,
taking shape in the spaces where sunlight,
or moonlight doesn't touch.
The stars shake from the vibration,
and the ghosts shimmer in anticipation,
but we can't hear your voice in the dead of the night.

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 1.3 KB more ▶

Featured in Groups:

#DieMatrix

#PreciousRedRose

#MyBookOfDreams

#ExpressYou

#love-around-us

Details

Submitted: June 4, 2012
File Size: 1.3 KB
Submitted with: Sta.sh

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 47
Favourites: 446 [who?]
Views: 10,344 (1 today)
Downloads: 115 (0 today)

[x]

pears and nears

by *iNeedChemicalX, Jun 4, 2012, 4:04:28 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

_{monday afternoon and
my lover is studying;
i am wondering if he remembers that time when
we learnt together the geometric shapes -
circled are his lips when
the sun draws himself upon them;

i am jealous.

earth has his own anatomy -
them science people called him "pear";
maybe the fruit was before the planet
or maybe the planet grew out of it,
which makes us pearestrials, but
i wouldn't know;

i don't do science.

i don't even do words -
words are too academic sometimes;
it's propestorous (exclamation mark)
and my fingers are only made to waltz with yours;
i'm sorry when i stumble,
you know my forefinger is high heel sensitive;

there's too many is in the world.

monday's moving towards evening
my lover's still studying
earth is still a pear
there's Pretty Woman on tv
the food is not getting any warmer
my french will always be poor

kiss me tonight.}

pears and nearsby *iNeedChemicalX

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

this is the writing thing Mom asked me .

be my facebook photographic buddy: [link]

love 2 2

joy 1 1

wow 1 1

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~NishitokyoGirl Jan 6, 2013 Student Writer

*BeauCyphre Jan 6, 2013 Professional Writer

Writing a poem is difficult: You don't have too much words to tell your story, and your story should reach all your listeners' hearts.
Writing a poem is easy sometimes: When you're deep down there with your little ship moving like an aeroplane underneath the oceans' brighter places, everything comes in a rush 'cause your mind's really fast to surrender to your heart now. Your mind's scared in places like this deep down below and so high above everything, and it's beautifully aware that the heart knows better.

Your words are all about the heart, born in this place deep inside, and everything you're telling me is as much about your love, your lover, your world as about myself, my core, the fire within. So you reach me:

"i don't do science."

And:

"there's too many is in the world."

And:

"kiss me tonight."

Your abracadabra finally makes everything complete.