Maybe you should do the writing if you want a change now. I'm sure you're busy though- discouraged- watching bombs drop down on Gaza all night while I do fake nails and watch my telenovellas in my disconnected dorm room. I haven't watched the news in over six months now. The closest I have come is watching day old CNN reports on YouTube and refreshing the presidential tally page until I was sure Obama won.
Somehow my words aren't cutting it at this point- Not cutting anything. Not sharp enough for razors- not sharp enough to slice meat, no weight to slice cheese or even butter for that matter. They're as dull as my hazed out mind, slowly forg
silence on the couch
everybody looking at me upstairs
everybody looking at me upstairs
looking at me upstairs
so I close the door
and I don't open my eyes
to see who's still looking
everybody looking at me upstairs
trying to find somewhere to crawl inside
Or some animal to set free
Write me a poem that will change the world
It doesn't have to be complicated or obscure
It doesn't have to invent a new disease
for which only you have found the cure
It doesn't have to be anything to rival
The Iliad or The Bible
It doesn't have to be anything like that.
Write me a poem that will change the world
a ripple in the water or
a bomb that strikes out cities
Maybe it will be both
But write me something that will make my mind unfold
New again like a seedling of Mother Earth
in all of her perpetual glory!
With Father Time standing by
winding and rewinding my mind
and my Father farther than the sky
clasping it all i
Tell me Gandhi have you seen Medusa
Have you been as scared as me
Did your hair tumble down to twist like snakes
When you were young and kept your turban
O what did you hide O how did it ache
O the public truth did it lessen your shame
O Gandhi O Ram
Looking upward again
I find all my ideas and opinions
Dusting away like a cloud
To the Man Rehearsing Piano in Lecture Theatre CL by NineMenOnRocks, literature
Literature
To the Man Rehearsing Piano in Lecture Theatre CL
To the Man Rehearsing Piano in Lecture Theatre CL 110:
I stood outside the door,
unsure if I should leave or
make my presence known
A steady flow of post-modern
cinematic beauty
emanated from the empty room
where I peered my way in to glimpse
the back of your head.
A fumble, a stop, a heavy sigh
an abrupt change of piece
I stood clutching my Barq's, poised to speed walk away
Nonchalant
If you were to turn and exit
A few shifts of your bench and I jumped to flee
But sat back down with your continuous unfurl
of melody.
A polychromatic
line of notes
clutched deeply at my aching throat
and I turned to go.
I placed mysel
That picture is like someone died
A picture I'm not in
A picture I'm not in
A beautiful girl- but sad, and
the hard things
you didn't want me to say
I didn't
I didn't
and now they are the awkward things
that you don't want to hear
Fluorescent Jesus on my nightstand
I stroke his hair and take his hand
And I ask for forgiveness but there's nothing to give
And He asks for my life with no reason to live
You were acting selfless
acting
Some people just aren't selfless
Deeeeeaar
Did you call me dear or honey ever
Dripping down like sickly spears
I don't recall
Deeeeeear
If you need to hit my face hit my face
don't put acid i
sometimes I think my poetry is more like writing me
from the back of my mind
a shining light comes like a strange mercy
the words you'd drink up like a lapping sea
But maybe this is all reverse
your words that haunt me like a curse
And I find in this proverbial fantasy
the float bobbing gently boat bow down
I'm the fish flapping frantic choking
on your silver line
I understand now what you mean by
crunching bones beneath your feet
Like how you pet the cow but eat the meat
It's all
a bloody massacre down here, don't you see
Turn your head up, up
Turn the other cheek, then show me your chin-
All of the weak when they fall to their knees
they need a god and not a mortal man
Certainly your hands can't do any good
If they can't walk leave 'em to die
or find some other crutch
Cause twist your head back and it's a battlefield
Darling I used to be like you
running away and I'd say
Fuck it
Can't save everyone
I was careful even
but hey
Something strikes the side and I go down
And I, I lie, I
Thank you for the lovely i guess
and thank you for anything:
The summer wind was just a passerby. My drumming friend a needle in the eye. Fisheye, fisheye, hook! All the pictures I took of you, look! When you are ready to come out of your lion cave all steamed up and smelling of carnage and lust and carnage rotten meat meat meat- Come up to meet me. Oh yes show me all the treasures you have in your den but until you know that I'm not one of them. Until then- I'm pounding your skull on the rocks, I'm pounding my palms to my ears, my fists to the ground. My life is stretched and ripped and torn over my eyes, blocking the sky- climbing forev
I wrote a song about Gandhi
I wrote a song about rage
I dared sing them on the same breath
If you see that fire
Burning bright in my eyes
Eerie glow on my face
let it pass
Singing the praises of forgiveness without
Being so sure you were understood
Swallow my pride like a following tide
Let the flames ebb back up on the sand
O let me say what I need:
I do not believe
You would have kept honor I do not believe
You would have kept my trust I am guilty
I do not trust
The mind of lust
I do not trust
My cycling thoughts
Or the truth I held over you like a knife
Let stones lay where they fell
When you we
Maybe you should do the writing if you want a change now. I'm sure you're busy though- discouraged- watching bombs drop down on Gaza all night while I do fake nails and watch my telenovellas in my disconnected dorm room. I haven't watched the news in over six months now. The closest I have come is watching day old CNN reports on YouTube and refreshing the presidential tally page until I was sure Obama won.
Somehow my words aren't cutting it at this point- Not cutting anything. Not sharp enough for razors- not sharp enough to slice meat, no weight to slice cheese or even butter for that matter. They're as dull as my hazed out mind, slowly forg
silence on the couch
everybody looking at me upstairs
everybody looking at me upstairs
looking at me upstairs
so I close the door
and I don't open my eyes
to see who's still looking
everybody looking at me upstairs
trying to find somewhere to crawl inside
Or some animal to set free
Write me a poem that will change the world
It doesn't have to be complicated or obscure
It doesn't have to invent a new disease
for which only you have found the cure
It doesn't have to be anything to rival
The Iliad or The Bible
It doesn't have to be anything like that.
Write me a poem that will change the world
a ripple in the water or
a bomb that strikes out cities
Maybe it will be both
But write me something that will make my mind unfold
New again like a seedling of Mother Earth
in all of her perpetual glory!
With Father Time standing by
winding and rewinding my mind
and my Father farther than the sky
clasping it all i
Tell me Gandhi have you seen Medusa
Have you been as scared as me
Did your hair tumble down to twist like snakes
When you were young and kept your turban
O what did you hide O how did it ache
O the public truth did it lessen your shame
O Gandhi O Ram
Looking upward again
I find all my ideas and opinions
Dusting away like a cloud
To the Man Rehearsing Piano in Lecture Theatre CL by NineMenOnRocks, literature
Literature
To the Man Rehearsing Piano in Lecture Theatre CL
To the Man Rehearsing Piano in Lecture Theatre CL 110:
I stood outside the door,
unsure if I should leave or
make my presence known
A steady flow of post-modern
cinematic beauty
emanated from the empty room
where I peered my way in to glimpse
the back of your head.
A fumble, a stop, a heavy sigh
an abrupt change of piece
I stood clutching my Barq's, poised to speed walk away
Nonchalant
If you were to turn and exit
A few shifts of your bench and I jumped to flee
But sat back down with your continuous unfurl
of melody.
A polychromatic
line of notes
clutched deeply at my aching throat
and I turned to go.
I placed mysel
That picture is like someone died
A picture I'm not in
A picture I'm not in
A beautiful girl- but sad, and
the hard things
you didn't want me to say
I didn't
I didn't
and now they are the awkward things
that you don't want to hear
Fluorescent Jesus on my nightstand
I stroke his hair and take his hand
And I ask for forgiveness but there's nothing to give
And He asks for my life with no reason to live
You were acting selfless
acting
Some people just aren't selfless
Deeeeeaar
Did you call me dear or honey ever
Dripping down like sickly spears
I don't recall
Deeeeeear
If you need to hit my face hit my face
don't put acid i
sometimes I think my poetry is more like writing me
from the back of my mind
a shining light comes like a strange mercy
the words you'd drink up like a lapping sea
But maybe this is all reverse
your words that haunt me like a curse
And I find in this proverbial fantasy
the float bobbing gently boat bow down
I'm the fish flapping frantic choking
on your silver line
I understand now what you mean by
crunching bones beneath your feet
Like how you pet the cow but eat the meat
It's all
a bloody massacre down here, don't you see
Turn your head up, up
Turn the other cheek, then show me your chin-
All of the weak when they fall to their knees
they need a god and not a mortal man
Certainly your hands can't do any good
If they can't walk leave 'em to die
or find some other crutch
Cause twist your head back and it's a battlefield
Darling I used to be like you
running away and I'd say
Fuck it
Can't save everyone
I was careful even
but hey
Something strikes the side and I go down
And I, I lie, I
Thank you for the lovely i guess
and thank you for anything:
The summer wind was just a passerby. My drumming friend a needle in the eye. Fisheye, fisheye, hook! All the pictures I took of you, look! When you are ready to come out of your lion cave all steamed up and smelling of carnage and lust and carnage rotten meat meat meat- Come up to meet me. Oh yes show me all the treasures you have in your den but until you know that I'm not one of them. Until then- I'm pounding your skull on the rocks, I'm pounding my palms to my ears, my fists to the ground. My life is stretched and ripped and torn over my eyes, blocking the sky- climbing forev
I wrote a song about Gandhi
I wrote a song about rage
I dared sing them on the same breath
If you see that fire
Burning bright in my eyes
Eerie glow on my face
let it pass
Singing the praises of forgiveness without
Being so sure you were understood
Swallow my pride like a following tide
Let the flames ebb back up on the sand
O let me say what I need:
I do not believe
You would have kept honor I do not believe
You would have kept my trust I am guilty
I do not trust
The mind of lust
I do not trust
My cycling thoughts
Or the truth I held over you like a knife
Let stones lay where they fell
When you we
Soft little beating
In with the blackened ink heart
Inside my mouth
Endless germs spew venemous hate at my dismay
Dismantled dogs lay about my lawn
And I bite their bones
Belted laces wrapped in gold
Their pelts are my own weavings
Until my heart stops beating
I'll beat all my guilt
Into life
Within an inch of it
Change is within
My Treasure Trove of Sins
Licks from salt scar the tissues
And I'll keep dying
Eventually breaking life
A new asshole
Make it stink
Shining in the basking light these was these little specks of dust. They grew so violently, so extravagantly, until I blew it all up. I ended the shine, the mast, it broke. And the glimmer shined no more. It was lost, forgotten, a glimpse in my eye. Forever gone. Forever lost.
I am scared, numb and mindless with fear
Hunting for my translucent god
The figure I could never imagine
And the force that kept me going
Every door I see is dark
Every face is darker still
Sometimes I cannot see
Sometimes I cannot hear
Sometimes I cannot breathe
And the panic sets in
Colder than the fear
An answer to my prayer
Comes knocking on my wrist
The choice is made
One last breath
One last doubt
One last pain
My translucent god
Was never loud enough
-Melayna Ross
january vomits up what i don't know what to do with myself
its breeze that blows the dust from memories
framed anew, like new thoughts for me
new heavy thoughts of old times
but when i form your naked body there beside me
heavy in its pesence, its beauty, your glory
for it all to be so small again, like in august
you are my august
you are my golden sunlight
for such is the brightness of your soul i saw shining through your eyes
i looked into your eyes and said, he has blue eyes
i looked into your eyes and i was tortured
for to gaze into your eyes, into the perfection your soul
was a curse of petrarch
oh the eyes
the eyes