[x]

the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav

He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a

PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint

SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free

Onceyour beauty lies restless behind those
hills, where you fought valiantly. and
the man you once were was brave and kind,
but now you are possessed by a passenger
of darkness, whispering words of your
loneliness.

the man you once were is forgotten, and
the man you are today, is only a ghost, a
shadow, of what you were before.

Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?

Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain

SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.

we are not a fairytalewe are not a fairytale.

I am not the strong lead with a heart of fire,
bones of steel, and eyes of vapid curiosity;
motivation seeping through
my every last intended action because
I was written this way

(the heroine falls only to rise again:
proverbial phoenix, burning out
because it is the cycle of my
life) and you, you are not

the beautiful travesty, perfectly composed
to strike me where I’m weak and
[almost]human, delicately woven
like the tapestry of my dismantling—
a subtle irony where somewhere, a writer
chuckles softly, understanding

we are blinder than church mice, born
in a makeshift world of darkness where
I&rsquo

Puppet My tears fall,

like invisible

diamonds.

My heart beats,

like soundless

drums.

Unwanted,

because of the

strings attached.

Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,
you'd be wrapped in the sweetest
perfumes
(learning
how to engulf the ocean
with your lungs
and think of how to cup it
in your hands
despite
your broken prayers and
still be beautiful)

dance with the gypsies
'till noon
(a quake in
your hips like the thrust
of continents
and the faultlines
emanating from
your spine,
but still
so, so graceful)

sing with the nymphs
in tune
(your voice,
it's growing old,
raspy even.
your throat's burning dry
like a monsoon
faltering in a desert,

and tones
still octaves
powerful)

be nestled in a king's arms
soon
(oh, you precious
little thing.
how

HorsepowerHorsepower

There’s a knife turnin in my soft parts
And heat burnin my mind on hard starts
The motors runnin but I lost the wheel
Just want it to be numb don’t wanna feel
Take two steps back and put it in park
Before I leave scarred up black marks
I need a u-turn on this highway
But can’t go back on the by-way
So look ahead, the pavement goes on
Break the rear-view mirror it’s gone
Contemplate
Reiterate
Put it in drive
And say goodbye
Let’s see how fast this bitch can fly

-Cygam7

nightmarethe foxes are at your bedside and singing--
feversongs,
songs of boiling thoughts
and broken muscles.
their lullabyes.
they sneak so quiet, and
somehow,
you can't quite
dream
anymore.

Lost In ConfusionMy mind is spinning without a rest
emotions whirl and twirl around
A merry-go-round gaining speed
Until the world blurrs before my eyes
What's happening? What's going on?

The simplest thought slips away
Right from my mind, fading so fast
Trying to focus, I stare and stare
Until my eyes are heavy and unclear.
I don't understand, what is going on...

Emotions rise and fall again
Within the blink of an eye
I'm crying, laughing, and depressed
A rollercoaster ride that never ends
Am I losing my mind in this ?

I try to close my eyes and rest
But the world spins me around
I feel like I am failing this test
Voices and noisies echo in my min

Why meI wanted sleep very badly
I tried my hardest to rest
I closed my eyes and laid there
But sleep didn’t come easy
I would doze off
And wake back up
Again
Why me? When I know I have to be up at 3 AM.

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 636 bytes more ▶

More from ~Filiuk

SonneI often lie awake at night;
Awake by an eternal light,
Perpetuated by the Sun,
With rays of golden heat, it's spun

Into a guise around my eyes:
A gift from her unto the skies.
She is the fairest star of all;
The first, she reigns, standing up tall

And scorches all upon the Earth.
She claims us all, till death from birth;
She marks our skin and pours our sweat;
She fills our eyes with sour regret.

Don't look at her, when she's above:
She'll burn you for your careless love.

Sleeping softlySleeping softly in your arms,
I'm waiting till I wake.
Because no image in my dreams
Can top what I'd be looking at.
And if I were to lift these lids
And steer my eyes in your dirction,
I hold this uncontested faith
I would behold divine perfection.

If I could seeIf I could see, ten years from now,
Where all the people in this room
Will stand in life and where they'll go,
I wonder if you'd see me smile.

If I could go ten years from now,
To tell those people how they've changed,
I wonder if I'd see them smile,
Or grimace ugly, hiding shame;
Of how they have betrayed their lot.

I wonder if they would repent,
When glancing back on those ten years
And seeing what they've done with them.

And then there's noneIt comes from a deep place, from caves in distant vales, lush with moss and aging trees. It slowly rises, like a flood welling up to the brims of too shallow furrows. Soon it passes on to farther borders; searching for newer confines on which to trespass. And then it stops. Suddenly, but ever so calm. Like sleep leaves your body when you suddenly open your eyes on a Tuesday morning, knowing you're awake and were not so, just five seconds ago. There's no chock, no rapid change of being. There was only sleep. And then there's none.

That's the way I woke today: knowing there's still life, and soon this life will be no more. I shaved like any ot

My precious dreamsMy precious dreams have ceased to be;
They leave me idle in my sleep,
To populate another's nights,
To make him count their flocks of sheep.

I have been searching for my friends,
To plea with them to come back home.
But they have chosen otherwise;
They have found other minds to roam.

And now another walks their ways;
Another man explores their worlds,
To meet that lucid girl that sways
Them to abandone faithful ways.

My precious dreams have ceased to be;
They've chosen to abandone me.

Friend of the NightIf I were to step out into the night,
Would I be carried off where I long looked?
Could I take part in landscapes from my sight?
Its distant beauty has me gently hooked.

When I reside in chambers, silece rules
And absence hears my long soliloquy.
The ink and pen are my sole loyal tools:
With them, I shape a private how and why.

I draw out words, that make me soon forget
The lack of people, simple company -
A gift I haven't managed to beget -
By stalking persons only I can see.

But now the night is all where I can look,
As time has come for me to close the book.

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

#TheWritersMeow
Cool Cats Who Write

#Writers--club
A group for all writers!

#PoetsandWriters
Authors of all things Lit.

#The-Poetry-Cafe
Poetry and Writers Welcome!

#Doctrinaire
We're better than you

#xXPoetsGetawayXx

#Original-Scribbles
Promoting Original Writing

#The-Writers-of-dA
Active feedback for literature

Details

Submitted: March 14, 2012
File Size: 636 bytes

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 11
Favourites: 7 [who?]
Views: 95 (0 today)
Downloads: 4 (0 today)

[x]

The Carpenter

by ~Filiuk, Mar 14, 2012, 11:49:54 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I damn you, demon,
You chanter of black incantations;
Carpenter of funeral gowns.
Why have you clad me not?

Am I too loud a posture to drown
In the quiet of your dark cashmere?
Or are your services reserved
For young girls with the shiny eyes?

I'll not ask you to carry me;
I'll swim your river unaided.
I'll not ask you to open gates;
Just not to close them when you leave.

I'll sing your praises, louder than hers,
If only you'll let me stalk your shady gondola.