The Poetry Revolution

graffitiesprit:

I desired
a word
with you,
but I
came
at you
in tongues.
I looked then,
to my
fingers: 
hoarse,
gasping
every
syllable.

(via poeticallyprofound)

onlyanotherhuman:

Down the boulevard of broken dreams,
                      he calmly struts.

        Contemplating
           madness and mediocrity,
                    he looks up.
                                                 She is there.
                                                                                   Four feet away.
              Tension waves through his body,
                                     momentarily freezing.
                              His heart implodes.

               She begins to pause,                                       Two feet away.
                          feigning naivety he turns away,
                                                        walks on.
  Planted long ago
                       bitter seeds of regret                     They pass.
           began again to flourish and bloom.  
                He doesn’t turn back.
                               Did she?                                       
                                                                              Don’t be a fool,
                                                                       that’s all you ever were;
                                                                           mad and mediocre.
                                                       
(May 2012)

(via onlyanotherhuman)

onnothingandeverything:

drag my heart
on tenterhooks
through fresh
spring mud
(sudden showers
arrive unexpected),
pulled into ditches
full of sticks and stones
and other things capable
of cracking porcelain
skeletons
unable to keep organs
within the safety
of gilded cages,
now scraping
the ground
in gravelled silence,
bleeding
profuse.

and still, i
wounded and
dirty and
begging,
will ask
for more
for suffering
is (for) love
isn’t it?
.

(via poeticallyprofound)

wildflowerveins:

i interviewed this serial killer once
who found lost toddlers in their concrete backyards
and bought them vanilla ice cream with chocolate sprinkles
and let them watch movies in his attic and choked them
with a wet rag of chloroform and put them to sleep.

he told me that he would drop them off at the park
on 67th street and woodridge drive under the slides,
blanketed in childhood and dirt.

he killed 19 kids before he walked slowly
quickly to the police station and gave himself up.

he was sorry.
he was so sorry.

artisticveins:

That they called me dirty
just because he had touched me
while he walked free

That they spat words
that resulted to the scars
that I hide under my sleeves

That they judged me
while having no knowledge
of what actually went down 

That they pointed fingers
as if it was my fault
that he had raped me 

And now look at them
how they support me
when against it I speak 

Fuck you all

artisticfreefall:

Wildflowers set against the morning sun.

Sunblushed Alyssum feathers
up a wide rounded hill,
hidden in the dips and swales
of brow beaten ridges and tall

—- belvederes.

There the soft blooms of
wildflowers will still grow,

—- under

the watchful eye of the warm
morning Tuscan sun.

umustcreate:

You shouldn’t overanalyse
yourself, that’s my job
and I’ll sit alone in my room
learning songs for you.
My guitar is such a poor
substitute for love it’s cute
when I sing down the phone
line but it’s hollow and it
echoes from the time delay of
all the things I’d say if you
were here. It’s half the battle
and one quarter of the war,
what is my life for, if you’re
so far away? The blue sky
turns into grey, I want it
that way, I’ll stay inside and
cue up the next song. I’ll
always just be playing along.
But I’m not playing this time,
you might not know it but
I write these songs for you
and one day I’ll sing them
in your ear, I can make that
distance disappear, so listen
close and hear my voice, it’s
yours now I give it to you by
choice.

artisticfreefall:

Searching for symmetry
and balance, new love often
recoils in the resonating music of love.
Hidden on the soft air of lonely notes
in the sad song of hesitation.

Made with equal parts
of desperation and desire,
there in that light of broken old-hearts,
they stumble and come together to —-

—- search

for the comfort of —- familiarity.
Finding the worn-out old-hearts
And start with needle and thread
to mend all the torn edges, and frayed
nerves, and patch-up the soiled sorrows,
they share in hopes of making sure they’re not
alone in the everlasting notes of their tomorrows.

mikefrawley:

I’m sorry it went down like that
I never found the words to write

Though it was over long age
sometimes I miss you late at night

All the dreams we used to share
they were never meant to be

There had to be something more
were we just too young to see

I wonder how you are these days
I hope the world treats you well

Me, I guess I’m doing fine
there’s really not too much to tell

Did you ever have a little girl
and know the joy of watching her grow

She’s probably lovely just like you
perhaps it’s better not to know

You were the best part of my life
happier times of days gone by

I loved you as much as I knew how
I’m sorry I ever made you cry

artisticfreefall:

I long for the days when you held my _____
and we walked along the wind-swept _____
under a sky spread wide with a warm _____
which guided us along the beach, your_____
lit up my face and did trace the start of our
lovely ______ this Sunday morning.
So together we will find a daring ____
to say all the things that need to be _____ .

artisticfreefall:

I feel like a caged bird,
sad but safe in your universe
afraid to fly, or even try to see the world
in my own backyard, you feed me tiny
round pieces of a line, and the occasional
lovely but lonely verse.

artisticfreefall:

A silhouette —-

——of my timid profile,
stands a distant second to the love
I have for you, I’m sorry to say
it hides in the footsteps of your shadow.
Lit only by my heart-felt desires,
and the occasional wisp of moonlight
and sunlight to guide you closer to me.
At times I am —-

—- ever fearful,

of giving you my heart,
or even letting you know
that I’m standing right next to you.
Love from a far, is never as bright as
the shining star, the sun
or even the silver of the moon
that lights your path away from me.

ethielswords:

madamebluebell:

Ooooo :D

roggyscanvas:

Allow me to lather
My innuendo all over you
Let it be a balm
To your cracked self doubt
Or the lotion
For your sunburnt esteem
But if anything at all
Just let me touch you
Because I’d like to caress
The crevices of your mind
And thumb the outline of your lips
With intent to insinuate myself
Between the white veins of your words

This.

artisticfreefall:

I think our love is so very —-strong
built on a solid foundation even when it’s wrong.

sometimes made—-

—-of hurled stones

broken bones, and the occasional tea cup
tossed in for good measure.

To mark the—-
anniversary

of our collision I think it
would be kind to impart something
deeply from the heart, and maybe
a simple lithograph like a piece of art
would be a dear start. We could hang
it with a noose in the bedroom of
our distorted dreams, as it already
seems evident that we should not
put it under glass, or it will end up
like the mirror and in the trash.