[x]

nine1.

be their happy childhood, dipped
in coloured glass and wound around
the stairwells. be a boat with sails
and a tire swing. be butterfly nets.
be monarchs and lilacs in the summertime be
summer itself. be desperation and
a snare drum, old Beatles songs winding up
from the floor below, your yellow hair something
from a storybook.

2.

put your hand inside their
head and lead them out the back
door and through the trees.
show them the spot where
you took an axe to the silver eye
of God's skull and boxed up his
body parts like damp children's clothes.
tell them the truth; that you ate
his bones and kept his soul in
a beer keg

reali swear to God
that i love mine as much as
you love yours and that
if i could find the words to say it,
i would. if i could
find the perfect words, if i could just
close my eyes and instead of thinking
i love him i love him i love him
think of something poetic and real and un-cliché,
just for a second,
i would. but
i am-he is-we are poetic,
real,
un-cliché
and i know it with all of me and i know he knows it
too and i know that i don't need to
write poems about him because he already knows,
he

a new englandthis is a poem about smoking
and dry eyes. this is a poem
about things getting buried,
about dirt. blackbirds wrapped
in tissue, family pets and beetles
laying smeared in matchboxes.
this is a list of all the quiet blue
things i am not doing any more,
your hands growing hard against
beautiful new fingers.

first, lists themselves; lists of jokes you
no longer tell, movies i fell asleep
in, the possibilities of constellations
mapped out with freckles. i used to
love remembering the places that
you touched- 1. clothes that you
hated. 2. my hips and breasts. 3.
red sheets. 4. benches and buses. 5.
never the ground itself, cl

Haiku Collection 07 - Thematic

[01]
sore from shouting,
wrap frustrations, calmly,
around a cigarette

[02]
a funeral of ears
marks empathy's death.
this suffering is yours.

[03]
sobering skies
bring the recognition that
she is beyond roses

[04]
loud music only prolongs
eventual reckoning
of loss

[05]
it was windy
at the burial
weather hasn't much changed.

[06]
our relationship
is polluted with mistakes
and apologies

[07]
I cradle this
guitar body as if
it were a mother

[08]
capo on third fret
nooses are purchased
at package stores

[09]
saddened
that
I love you

[10]
I wonder,
are you feigning regret,
or powerless?

[11]
her strength i

take your hand and heart.i want to take your
hand and show you the world with
beauty just like your's.

i want to steal your
heart and put it back togeth
er with diamond laced
seams; then it
cannot break apart
anymore.

bittersweet, without the sweetthe way you whine

(not so)

subtle profanity
in a chilly room,

it reminds me just how frozen
my thoughts are with(out) you,

of how fast our Hearts' silent vendetta spread to my fingers,
of how existing near me makes your once-rare eyes cuss,
or how if i was masochist, you would settle my anguish fetish..
(but no, i'm not a masochist. not today.)

.and of how vindictive your voice sounds,
and how cliche this sounds on paper
(even though this isn't paper)
and how i use the word cliche too much,
especially when clarifiying how blatantly cliche it is,
and how i'm too lazy to copy-paste the accented e,
and how annoying thi

empty lightbulbs are bad ideaspower on

i remember that ever-so somber spiral staircase of a storm; oh, don't think i'll ever forget the macabre sequence of high-voltage events that forever scarred my luminosity: your weathered rhetoric tripped the stratosphere, and The Sky slid down a flight of frightening silhouettes. thunderclouds climbed through our ozone layer, precipitating the downfall of us. your capricious bolts overcharged and crashed into my murky plane-of-thought. i'm afraid of the grotesque shadows surging through our intertwined veins, yet the whimsical flashes of (im)possibility only blind my hexed eyes from subtle verity.

how many romantic addicts does

The Sock Sphere of InfluencePeople who wear matched socks think someone is looking. No one is looking! American society today is obsessed with how everyone looks, to the point where they care whether or not their socks are matched, even if they are hidden by their pants. If everyone was to relax and wear mismatched socks once in a while, everyone would be happier and less stressed.

It is no secret that our society is overly concerned with how they appear to others. From the high school student who feels that they must have all the name brand clothes, to the businessperson who worries that their professional attire is somehow unsatisfactory, everyone is stressed about t

because you're now.I want you to know that I think about you sometimes. You're like my escape plan that I keep in the back of my mind. The one that I start to find more and more appealing each time I think about it. And occasionally I think about what it would be like to be yours.

I am unable to understand why I am the way I am, or why you have the ability to make anyone smile. But that's just how it is.

I think that if you were to put your hand between the sheet and the mattress on my bed, you would find all the slips of paper with the pink and purple ink. They're all the wishes I've made and all the bad dreams I wish I never had. Sometimes I wish I was sorr

12.Jan.10Leaving the bus stop, alone at twilight, I want to wave farewell to the backs of the strangers heading home. A failed date today, a rumbling muffler chokes - white breath, a young couple hurries past to catch the night train.

I commiserate with my cell phone's inbox; (three new messages, all junk) and watch a mother pull two children from the faces they are drawing on a parked car's windshield. Warm fingers leave behind two jaunty smiles in the frost. On the sidewalk stretching home, a sweet smell drifts from far away, and a man stubs out his cigarette, stone cold in an instant.

words clutter fogged panes
a passing sleeve erases

willow-girlI took my self away, to the blue edges of the sea
Where light-rays make love with reaching ice,
And white-backed birds glide low;

And I came home again, reborn
Old-eyed and open-mouthed,
Filled with knotted branches
And ingrown, seeking limbs,
Lying smoothed among the shadows.

And now they're quietly unstitching me -
tugging at my heart-seams;
tangling in crusts of ocean spray
and eating at my bones.

EulogyI've wrapped my tongue around
the floral poetry that ribbons
your water-denied lips
and crystallizes at the bottom
of my morning tea.

I've slept on bent elbows
and cradled your fresh caresses
against the curve from my breasts
to my thighs and it smells
like fabric softener
and mountain air.

I've woken up to the echo
of your three-hour lullaby
and the ever-present burn
from your smile against my forehead.

I've loved you with every organ
because you said the heart is metaphoric
and so is everything else
and you don't deserve anything less than everything.

I've breathed and ached
with oxidized lungs and fingers
against vinyl

Fired

"Fired"

Martin Lanham hadn't moved from his armchair all afternoon. He sat, gazing miserably out the window at the rain that pattered absently on the city's shoulders. Once every-so-often he would build up the motivation to sigh out a portion of the misfortunes that had been bestowed upon him since he woke up this morning. His hands rested in his lap and a thin mop of hair sat ruffled on his forehead, subtly suggesting that he was far beyond the point of disgruntled, and was veering close to a state commonly referred to as 'depression'.

Martin had worked for the SmallBalls Ball-Bearing Corporation for twenty-three years as a quality cont

The Quick Six

Fuk

No, it doesn't count,
you see? Because it's F-U-K,
with out the C.

Hairy Carrie

No one took her out to eat
No one ever saved a seat
No one brought her to the mall
So she chose to end it all.

Three Times Fast

Getting pneumonoultra-
microscopicsilico-
volcanoconiosis.
Somethings are easier
done than said.

Elpoep

They sleep during the day
they work when they should play
they can't see in the light
backwards people ain't quite right.

Tumor Tim

Meet this little boy
his name is Tumor Tim.
He hasn't really got one
but we like to humor him.

Dumb Haiku

This is a haiku
I have written it for you.
God this haiku suc

radar lovedear you,

i like you so much i want you
to snake your arm down my
throat and tug me inside out;
bend down your head to my black
eastern seagull and kiss it, find
my liver and apologise. i want you
to pluck the old snowflakes from
my stomach and watch them spill
across the pub floor.

your hands can live in my jeans
if you want. you can bite down
on my fingers.

life's for the brave, for the people
who aren't afraid to say FUCK and
drink bad beer. so i'm gonna get on
this bus! i'm gonna shave my head!
i'm gonna drink this tequila sunrise
and crane my head to the moon
like its your face in the morning.

it doesn't matter how

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Lilith makes me wonder

by ~athenaRules, Feb 25, 2005, 5:37:15 PM
Literature / Poetry / Spiritual / Traditional Fixed Forms

What if Adam just plain lied
     And  Eve
        with apple juice
           Running down her chin

Just     let    it    slide

Is the whole story  a hoax

A different mother
                    than Mary
                        No father
                           Son
                             Holy Ghost

Was Lilith really all that bad

             She  just wanted to be free

                  The desert is hard on Mustangs
                              And her man was not handy

Was Mary really a virgin

          did Joseph just herd the sheep

Did Mary feel passion
         desire
            her body eternally saved
                  from damnation fire

As God swept her off her feet

the writers got it  wrong

fumbling the interception

Immaculate deception

going to burn in hell
             because  I  swear
                                dance
                           love the universe as a she
not  believing
        I  grow  from A rib seedling
                    half as good as he

dammed

I have loved the boys

And maybe one girl

Will  the devil make me an appetizer
            at his red
                  red
                     feast
OR

Will I be spat back
          for being only mediocre evil
                    By the carnivorous  beast
If I worked
          and loved
               and tried to do good each day

Is my journey truly paved to hell
               With the my heart leading the way

If I gave
and prayed to the sky
          for more mercy in me
                 than pain I received

Would God just roll his eyes

And the devil be relieved

Lilith makes me wonderby ~athenaRules

Literature / Poetry / Spiritual / Traditional Fixed Forms

This is not a poem about not having faith, it's a poem about wondering. Mostly inspired by the rather unfriendly um, "organized" religous church accross the street from me. I know they conspire to see if there is something in our town laws to hang me as a witch....I have a few friends in my one cow town that would cut me down, if I really could not fly after all.

If you are not familiar with Lilith, look it up.....(Adams first wife....before she ran away).

The painting is one I did of Lilith, the copy is a bit "BrIGHT" to post in my painting gallery so I am going to send her with this poem for now.

Daily Deviation

Given 2005-08-27

Lilith makes me wonder by *athenaRules is a rather aerie little poem which demands answers to some very heavy questions. ( Suggested by `demonlight and Featured by `ndifference )

love 3 3

joy 1 1

wow 1 1

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

neutral 1 1

~HELL-FIRE-SISTER-GUN Apr 5, 2013

A poem about wander. i enjoyed reading it. its nice to see that there are others wondering the samething. i realy dont have faith in god. considering the frist text of religin and faith have been past about so many times that theres very little left of the original text. your poem continues to make me wonder is every thing that the religions teach is all that its cracked up to be.
love the poem by the way.

~PoetryToTheMasses Aug 7, 2011

Just a note to let you know that this work was featured as part of our latest weekly feature after it was suggested by *ClearSound.

P2TM is designed to encourage more people to read and write poetry, including song lyrics, through a weekly feature: one main poem, with information about the poem and the poet, and links to two further poems. All these poems are suggested to me by deviants.

Please visit the page and support P2TM by watching, suggesting poems and lyrics, donating and/or spreading the word.

Keep writing!
~PoetryToTheMasses

~OrganicFantasy Dec 25, 2010

WIN.

~oracle-of-nonsense Nov 24, 2010 Student Writer

I have to say, I've definitely wondered the same things...Particularly about Lilith and Mary.

~MistressMina123 Nov 15, 2010

This was awesome, just the kind of work to question why she was hid from history.

~Kasami-Kat Aug 10, 2010

_{This is very pretty, very breathtaking.}

~ENvatTEdbrains Aug 7, 2010

i love it!

~wallflowerbaby13 Jul 14, 2010

i have got to say i thoroughly enjoyed your poem about Lilith, whom i am just starting to learn about. it's funny. i remember learning somewhat in high school literature about adam and eve and even gilgamesh, but not about Lilith. in fact, the first time i heard about her was in a Syfy movie. and i just stumbled upon her again just recently. anyway, back to your poem. i can really connect to what you are saying, for i am not a member of any faith or religion, i like to say i'm agnostic. for there is just so much religion, that i'd rather just stay out of it. but this poem really does make me think. even if there was once a sacred text from a higher being, the translations that have been handed down through generations and made into how many languages, i bet there wouldn't be anything left of the original. So thank you for your original and thought provoking poem. i know now that i definitely want to learn more about Lilith.

!lyingskin Jun 20, 2010

I really, really liked this. The rythm of it, the very clear beat. I love how you have brought all the Biblical names to life - made them more than just a worthy mention in this book that so many people put so much faith in (myself included).

If I should make one small correction, there's a typo that confuses me a bit. "With the my heart leading the way" - isn't "the" redundant? Or "my"? Either of them, at least. As I read the sentence.

Any way. Really good job. Going to my favourites.

~KatsumiBatei Jun 17, 2010 Hobbyist General Artist

Lilith, oh i remember I was watching something on History channel and they were telling the story. I saw it and had an eye roll moment, "so that's whats they don't wanna tell us, tsk"

About your poem, almost everything I've contemplated for a long part of my life. I finally decided to officially "stop" begin catholic near the end of my freshman year of high school, about 2 years ago, and after looking in to Wicca and Paganism, a year ago moved to the pagan path I now proudly but still very much newly walk with much to learn. Lets just say my mom found one of my books and flipped out but still I won't stop believing what I believe and I flat out told her I was not doing confirmation so it was a waste of my time going to the classes and spending the money for stuff but she still made me go and she said I only had to go for a few month and not do the whole thing... my post is getting long so I'm gonna stop before I rant any more.

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