[x]

I Don't Miss AdolescenceMy sister calls to ask me if I'll do her makeup;
Mami promised that she would, but she's tired
and screamed when Maria reminded her senior prom
is tonight. She says, "I have a hickey on my neck,
something she doesn't want to cover, and you've always
done a better job of highlighting the subtle graces
inherent to my bone structure, the angles we share."

I say, "That's okay, but I can't pick you up,"

so she arrives in a flourish of exasperations,
telling me all the family business, waving her nails
in my face and talking about the pain of her extensions.
She says, "Do you think we need yellow concealer?
I plan to take pictures, and the last

Onyx DreamsOnyx Dreams

Fluctuations of sound waves vibrate the floor,
While the lights of my room glow brilliantly,
But as time winds down and my energy starts its decline,
My vision gets blurry and listening becomes hearing,
And hearing becomes simple background noise,
While Palaceer Lazaro’s words become filmy intonations
Yet, still creating a motion picture full of abstract images,
In my mind full of words and phrases that do nothing but stay stagnant,
And Slumber begins to wrap her warm hands around my head,
As she sweetly begins to pull me into black depths of rest,
A state of unconsciousness that will take me on a journey,
Through the grey abyss we call the center of our nervous system,
And once I fall into the pit of nothingness, the pit of onyx, for those few hours,
I will transform into an atramentous being with aphotic wings,
Because “black is free……..”

You were cold insideYour lips tasted of
summer, of warm days and
cherry-flavoured ice,
relaxing by the
pool side and
smiling against the sun.

You should have been too hot,
too sticky, too humid.
You should have
overheated, should have
melted into your bones until
they turned to ashes, but
it never happened.

I suppose I should have
seen it coming, but
I was so moonstruck over
the way you said my name, so
in love with the idea
of love, that I
didn't notice the way
your eyes bled
winter.

7 - The Pet PoetI remember when Mommy bought you
a black-haired pet for your sweet sixteenth.
Its bronze collar said its name was "Poet."
You fed it noise from the out-of-tune piano,
intense moments involving flesh and razors,
and the occasional walk by the lake.

At first, he knew only the wolf's howl,
purging blood and flames onto the carpets.
Everywhere was a smell of extravagance --
like that woman's cheap perfume on the train to work.
But you cried a little less,
smiled a bit more.
And that was when Daddy stopped
trying to send it back to the shelter.

Soon, you even started watching T.V.
(and enjoyed food, dressed nice, made friends.)
But T

VIIEncore un peu de cendre
Au coin de tes lèvres
Parolescentes

J'épluche tes souhaits
Tu laves le ciel
En vain

Et dans ce vent chaud
Des milliers de pétales
De peau

nothing specialthey tell you not to give up
because you have potential--
and to the ones who simply enjoy
you're probably fantastic
but to those who do
you're simply mediocre,
nothing to bat an
eyelash at.

you're not quite bad enough
to quit, but you're not
great enough to be
remembered.

unrequitedyou make my words
gather at the hollows
of my throat
until i choke on them.

my fingers ache to
hold you--
but my eyes ache to
cry.

you're nothing but heart break
wrapped in a bow
of something beautiful,
like the dust of grace from
fallen angels.

i drink a little faster and
cry a little harder
because the way whiskey and tears
mingle on my lips
tastes suspiciously of love.

She's changedIf you looked at a little girl with big brown eyes and soft hair from the crown of her head
Her dreams would be big and her worries would be simple
And you’d say “She’ll be going places”

If you looked at a young girl with a toothy grin and a giddy laugh
Her pride would be strong and her conscience would be clear
And you’d say “She looks happy”

If you looked at a shy growing girl with her forehead covered and sleeves down to her fingertips
Her eyes would be distracted and her heart would be a drama queen
And you’d say “I don’t know who she is”

If you looked at a maturing girl

Thinking.Thinking without thought,
Not thinking about a lot.

Thinking about what it how it would be,
To have a thoughts as endless as the sea.

Thinking about the passing time,
About the mountains I have not climbed.

Thinking about a world gone by,
And about the big blue sky.

Thinking about love so sweet,
And of life crumbling at my feet.

To think about everything vast as it seems,
Would take as long as counting dreams.

So to think without a thought,
And not to think about a lot.

Would carry on an endless dream,
And let time unravel at it's seams.

SeppukuA blue sky greets me as I kneel to the ground.
I hear the rushing wind and the sacred water sound.
The cold, grey stone upon my knee,
As I prepare myself for eternity.

I take a solemn look at my silent crowd,
Those cruel, dark faces scream so loud.
They want me to do the final deed.
I'll plunge the tanto in. They'll see me bleed.

I look for a while at my full rice bowl,
And prepare for the next cycle of my soul.
What shall I be? A man or god?
Shall my next life be lived in the mud and sod?

I finish quickly so we don't delay.
By now the light is fading away.
I take up the pen and start to write,
To put brush to paper is one last delight.

"

Petit OiseauDon’t move a muscle
I’m not even drawing in breath
Through my heart
Oh, such a tiny, naïve little thing!
Will she let me approach, if I’m careful enough?

Or will wings divide my intentions
Widening gaps from the soil to the sky
Soil in my hands, and
Purple stars in her breath
I could never hurt you, little pixie
My winged Thumbelina

I don’t move a muscle
I’m focusing on not drawing breath
Lungs contract
She gives me a heartwarming stare
And oh, I am moments away!

But stop! Coarse laughter sings
Dark notes that may injure her
But the dancer still hops, unaware
Of the tears designing my chee

The Boy Who WaitsThe train rolls past the selfish boy,
The boy who stands and waits forever,
The boy who watches the girl fly past,
And wishes she would get off at his stop.

The boy stuck in circles,
The boy who always needs help,
The shy boy with the social prowess of a shattered rock.

He waits and waits,
And every time she flies past,
He hopes and hopes.

She talks to him often,
But sometimes not so much,
He feels like he’s walking straight when she speaks,
Her words make sense to his boggled mind.

The boy at the station,
With eyes wide in anticipation,
The selfish boy who wishes good things to happen,
The boy who takes things for granted,
Who thin

Left AloneYou want me to leave you alone? I'll leave you alone.

You want me to buy you a cake and a knife? Sure I'll do that.

So, what else do you need me to do? OK. That should be easy to do.

Here I go, walking to and fro, to unknown destination just so I can please you.

You hate my guts, huh? Well, to be honest, and I will not lie, I hate your guts too.

You see me and I see you, walking past each other each and everyday - We do not smile.

I often invision you surrounded by flames and you invision me drowning in the sea.

And here is my question to you: Why do you hate me so much?

You snarl as you echo my words: Why do YOU hate me so much?

No wordsI don't like to talk.
I feel that words cannot truly express what I feel.
When I am filled with emotion, I can find no word that can express what I feel to the fullest.
There is no word beautiful enough to describe this joy, no word horrible enough to describe this hate, no word ugly enough to describe this miserable existence.

a small dosage per daysorrow makes its way into my cup of tea every morning
so I add more spoonfuls of sugar into it,
hoping the sweetness will overpower the bitterness;

yet, this clever feeling still seeps through the sweet substance
and clings to the sugar's particles,
races through my veins
and scatters in my blood,

making an entire day feel ruined
already.

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The NothingnessPlain old boring life. Same schedule repeated day after day. Get up, get dressed, go downstairs, brush teeth, do hair, eat breakfast, go to school. Once at school, go to locker, find friends, talk to them, go to the same classes at the same time of day. So repetitive; so boring. Need to do something else, something better. But what? What? Nothing to do, nothing to see. Grey; everything grey and black and white. No feelings. Just numb. Why? WHY? Mind blank. Can't think. Just sit. thumb twitches. Arm spazzes. Itches I cannot scratch. Spaz twitch. Twitch spaz. Need to move. Can't. How to move? Why can't I? NEED to move. Gotta get out of here. GO

The DemonHeart attack
Blood stops pumping
lungs stop breathing
Try to pull yourself together

Eyes wide open
Mouth drops open
silent screams go through your mind
calm yourself
Just one more breath
Just one more breath

Frantically your heart starts beating
Blood goes through your veins
back to the brain
Thoughts start to formulate
start to panic
run away from the Demon
but he keeps following

breathing labored
He won't leave you alone
Down the halls
panic
Try to tell everyone you see
No one listens
They only stare

feet pound the floors
Breathing labored once more
Tears stream from your eyes
You know that he has spies
You wipe

BlankSwirling
Struggling
thougts all around
just trying to comprehend

It hurts so much
dizzy
disconected
feels just like I'm falling

Eyes clamped shut
nothing
no sound
no thought
exept:
"Oh God, what is happening to me?"

Pray to God
Hope all is well
Pray some more
drop to the ground

start to convulse
but only in your mind
eyes clamped shut
are you okay?

Empty
blank
nothing is there

All feels wrong
nothing seems right
fuzzy
crazy
cacaphony of noise
all comes rushing back

There you are
in a hallway
people bumping
jostling
all around you

But everything is
empty
blank
all around you

Untitled For NowThe fighting:
it just needs to stop.
I've apologized
again
and
again.
So why can't you just forgive me?

You call me:
controlling.
You say everything is:
my way,
or no way.
But I don't:
see.
Where are you getting this?

Yes,
I wanted you to:
stay.
But that was because
you were never

Crimson RosesThere were crimson roses on the bench;
they looked like slashes of blood.
But that was only at first sight.
As I looked closer
I could see each intricate rose petal;
each flowing green thorned stem.
The moon shone on the bench
which was were the flowers lay.
The red roses stuck out on the cold cement,
looking like a bright neon sign.
I walked over to that bench and sat.
I took up the roses,
tied with black lace,
and put them on my lap.
Each petal seems to speak to me.
Each one told a story.
The story was the same for all.
and this is how it goes:

Two people they were
that met by chance
one day along the street.
She had

That DayI walked into the school building nervously. I had been going to this school for three years now and I was familiar with its red brick hallways but for some reason I couldn't shake the feeling I had. This feeling was an ever twisting knot in my stomach; each breath seemed to pain me and that pain fueled the knot in my stomach to pull tighter. The knot seemed to be growing tighter and tighter, I had the feeling that my stomach was going to explode any minute. But yet it didn't. Instead, with each step I took, the pain dulled. By the time I reached my group of friends, the pain and anxiety had dulled to just a nagging lull.

This constant stab

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Crappy Days

by ~DanielRadcliffeLover, Nov 22, 2003, 2:45:15 PM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

Crappy Days
By: DanielRadcliffeLover

Everyday always sucks,
It feels like I'm stuck in muck.
This girl keeps making fun of me.
Why can't she just let me be?
She says I'm fat,
And I look like a cat.
But I don't think so.
Sometimes she says I'm a slut,
And that I yap like a mutt.
Why can't she just let me be me?

Today was a better day;
Maybe I'll go out and play.
I can finally be me,
And let her see,
That I'm not so bad.
Even though she makes me sad,
At least I don't wear plad.
She's still making fun of me,
But at least I can be,
Me.

Crappy Daysby ~DanielRadcliffeLover

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

©2003-2013 ~DanielRadcliffeLover

....

~rage69 Nov 23, 2003

I like how you write, you´re very good.

Reply

~SHF Nov 22, 2003

you write so well!!!!

Hope you feel better...

Reply

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