and demonic days
take over angelic wit
were not in heaven anymore, toto
& we have to fight the devil every day we’re living
on top of the sins that slide from our mouths dirty from the night before
still burning with rum on the edge of world
throwing punches with our already bruised knuckles black and blue black and blue that’s what you are too don’t you see we’ve been fighting this same battle all along?
Sometimes she felt as if she was living in a dream. Where things were too perfect; perfect to the point where people started questioning whether they were on the edge of unrivaled happiness or the brink of disaster waiting at the wrong turn. She’d wake up and find herself staring into his breathtaking eyes; those eyes that changed color and she never knew whether to expect a brilliant blue or an enchanting green. She cherished that feeling every morning she was with him as she traced the outline of his jaw and saw a grin slowly creeping across his mouth even though he was still half asleep, but he still felt her small fingers touching him. Their love was spontaneous; so fast that before she blinked an eye she found herself falling for him. She loved the little things about him; his tendency to babble, the way he caught himself babbling, the way he didn’t wait for streetlights to change before walking across (but he was always careful, so she didn’t mind one bit), how he’d take every chance to hug her before they left each other. The list went on and on. But most of all, she loved the way her opening up to him was like a rose blooming.
the soft
pitter
patter
of your feet against the floor
brought solace
to my musing mind
(always on a trip across land and sea
deathly afraid of planes
so my mind must walk miles
just to keep busy)
i hoped
that you were there to stay
you crossed the room
our one room sanctuary (with no couch, just a kingly mattress thrown onto the floor)
of fucking
and writing
and pushing toxins through our mouths
in the form of
cancer sticks and rum
and simply more writing
because
if i let the thoughts in my mind
stay there, i’d surely die
at the hand of a tall glass
of alcoholic poison
peregrinating proudly
down
my
throat
you came to me
came near me
with rosy red lips
that tasted like rosé bubbly
doubts teetering into my tainted
smut covered mind
the one before you
the ones before her
kept things
buried
ten
feet
under
at the least
in the soft malleable earth
(that
escapedcrumbles
through my fingers)
where things easily
become easily uncovered
the others they simply
dug
holes
in the ground
hoping that their past would stop
chasing them
the hands of the past reach out
hastily
to grabcoattails
and yank those lovely lust covered women
off the face of my earth
and as soon as things got too
heavy with them
my world
dropped
them
from
my
orbital
pull
but as soon as i let my feet fall into the sand beneath
you and i sinking on the land
the little crabs nip at my feet
and scratch my skin
causing my thoughts to drown with
desire as claws claiming
to be your teeth crawl across my neck
your heart your eyes your snake like fingers than creeped across my skin
they were different from the others
you were so unlike the others
that i’d let my world
crash through the galaxies just to be with you
and i
am waiting at the edge
of the world
for the sun to chase me
explode in my face
splatter me with burns
am waiting at the edge
for the sky to open up
reveal it’s blackdarkhole
eat me up
something something
but there’s nothing for me here
but emptiness and lies
unraveling as the sun stays
and nothing’s crashed
out of the sky
to crush me underneath it
it’s the world
it’s not pressing me into dust
forgotten bits
or particles
anytime soon
sitting in the social security office
waiting for my number to be called
i see a man
he’s in the corner
talking to himself
“brain alcohol content”
“flowered children”
dirty hair and beard
dingy from no bath in days
no shoes, jut white and gray athletic sock
“cool calloused and crazy”
drawing out those c sounds creatively cooing
poetically crazed
“fuck all america”
“grrrrrrowl”
he sits one leg crossed
over the other
running his hands through his hair
he seems to be telling a story,
asking questions
“the world is not flat,
did you know this?”
slowly jiggling his foot that’s
tanned darkened
cracked by the sun that
has beat down on his back for
years years years
burning his core since the day he was born
wearing gray pants as gray
as his beard and hair
everyone stares
scurries away from this man like mice
scared of people stomping around their territory
scurrying away from this man sitting in the corner
fly down
carrying a blue and gray sleeping bag, limping
a veteran? a diabetic? we’ll never know
unless the words escape from his lips
but he’s getting tired now
mouth parched by thirst
just air coming out
the woman at the window
stares in hard cold fixated judgment
those beady little i’m better than you eyes
stare in disgust and
lock on him like a target
we judge people
assume them insane
but we never think about
what caused them to be this way
as if thinking becomes lost
when we’re looking at people
who live in the same world as us
as if hardships never plague us
as if, as if, we’re just drones
who do not understand
but we have to understand
the world to live in it
so let’s stop
and just think about no
judgments on earth
She’s stealing my soul.
The more I use her, the more she abuses me and my body. She doesn’t care about the poisons and smoke she puts into my body every single night when she comes out— she just cares about the thrills and the fun.
I can’t control her. She comes along and shuts down my ability to move and speak outloud. All I can do is argue with her in my mind and she laughs and puts me in my place by reminding me who is in control and who is the one who can’t escape.
And I’m just there floating as her subconscious in my own body whispering for her to stop, but she ignores me because she grabs me by the throat and chokes me into silence. She wraps those fingers around my neck and shuts me up quickly… and she’s able to get away with more than I would ever allow from myself.
and our voices
too silent among the rolling seas of the masses
static ticking lack of noise
that allows us to be forgotten
we crave control of our city or even our country
we constantly complain that our government does nothing for us
but we sit by and let that nothing turn into a black hole
continuing to be nothing
we cannot sit on park benches, on cafe couches,
sipping overpriced orange juice
that’s fake, artificial shit like the people who ask you how your life is going
they’ll never be truly interested
pretending to be interested in the news
eyes idly glancing over headlines
about obama about
our taxes about
anything completely relevent to us
but we create irrelevance in our minds
oh,
my
i can’t change anything
i can’t change the world
i can’t change the way this place is
and all i can do is drown in an ocean of unpaid debt
i can state that i’m not privileged
that my say won’t make a change
we must be that change we want to happen
change lives within our souls and dies
when it’s not released in the form of actions
we have to go out
take a stroll to our local precinct
stick the ballot in the box
and get that lovely red sticker that stands up and says
i tried to make a difference
did you? will you next year? the next election?
or will you watch and let the world wither around you,
shrinking into a microcosm of complaints and
veils over the eyes of generations to come?
HELLO EVERYONE I’m editor-in-chief of a new online literary / pop culture magazine called NOISEMaker. We are seeking submissions for our first issue set to come out in December. The theme is “noise.” Take it as you will, interpret it how you want to, we’re not trying to put limitations on this. We’ll take anything from photosets, artwork, poetry, short stories, pop culture related goodies, opinion, political pieces, videos of you singing or dancing, reviews and anything else as long as it somehow related to the theme. Be creative, fearless and crank up the noise. Pass this on to your creative friends, reblog it, and submit your own pieces! Email submissions to noisemakermag@gmail.com & the deadline is NOW NOVEMBER 25TH. Get started making that noise!
visit us at https://www.facebook.com/noisemakermag and follow us on tumblr at www.noisemakermag.com!
(via quirkytidbits)
HELLO EVERYONE I’m editor-in-chief of a new online literary / pop culture magazine called NOISEMaker. We are seeking submissions for our first issue set to come out in December. The theme is “noise.” Take it as you will, interpret it how you want to, we’re not trying to put limitations on this. We’ll take anything from photosets, artwork, poetry, short stories, pop culture related goodies, opinion, political pieces, videos of you singing or dancing, reviews and anything else as long as it somehow related to the theme. Be creative, fearless and crank up the noise. Pass this on to your creative friends, reblog it, and submit your own pieces! Email submissions to noisemakermag@gmail.com & the deadline is NOW NOVEMBER 25TH. Get started making that noise!
visit us at https://www.facebook.com/noisemakermag and follow us on tumblr at www.noisemakermag.com!
(via quirkytidbits)
HELLO EVERYONE I’m editor-in-chief of a new online literary / pop culture magazine called NOISEMaker. We are seeking submissions for our first issue set to come out in December. The theme is “noise.” Take it as you will, interpret it how you want to, we’re not trying to put limitations on this. We’ll take anything from photosets, artwork, poetry, short stories, pop culture related goodies, opinion, political pieces, videos of you singing or dancing, reviews and anything else as long as it somehow related to the theme. Be creative, fearless and crank up the noise. Pass this on to your creative friends, reblog it, and submit your own pieces! Email submissions to noisemakermag@gmail.com & the deadline is November 20th, 2012. Get started making that noise!
visit us at https://www.facebook.com/noisemakermag as our live site isn’t up and running yet
HELLO EVERYONE I’m editor-in-chief of a new online literary / pop culture magazine called NOISEMaker. We are seeking submissions for our first issue set to come out in December. The theme is “noise.” Take it as you will, interpret it how you want to, we’re not trying to put limitations on this. We’ll take anything from photosets, artwork, poetry, short stories, pop culture related goodies, opinion, political pieces, videos of you singing or dancing, reviews and anything else as long as it somehow related to the theme. Be creative, fearless and crank up the noise. Pass this on to your creative friends, reblog it, and submit your own pieces! Email submissions to noisemakermag@gmail.com & the deadline is November 20th, 2012. Get started making that noise!
visit us at https://www.facebook.com/noisemakermag as our live site isn’t up and running yet
i’m not used to this
this beaming on my face
sunscreen has no place
in a city filled with fog and follies
the sun
blazes down on me
willing mocha skin to become darkened and black
the tanned marks on my feet
where my shoes end and my bareness begins
become a little more prominent
i squint as i make my way across the green
weeds all around me
and underneath trees
that make shadows zigzag with their leaves
i crunch through the daisies
trying to make a quick escape
they fold underneath my feet
i’ve hurt them underneath my weight
overtaken them underneath my shoe
i turn back at the path
i’ve blown through
stems snapped in half
but i cross to the other side
to hide my heart in shadows
shaded lanes that take me back
to the only place i’ve known
that place of fog and follies
of my yearning youth
