[x]

Waiting for a coach
and four
that never came,
she realized
a ball gown
won't bloom
out of sackloth;
glass slippers
are not dependable
and mice
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
man.

IcarusSun girl,

the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.

Do not let anyone
clip your wings;

you were made for the skies.

Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.

The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress

Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.

A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.

Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn&rsqu

Definition of a Writerwrit•er

noun /rītər/

A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery

They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish

A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own

They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone

i got flowers oncei am lonely.
i received flowers once
and i placed them
in a vase til
the petals all browned
desiccated
and turned to dust
on the glass of my bureau.

i have never gotten flowers since.

i spend my days
with a boy
a man
whom i love far beyond reason
and he holds me in his arms
and holds me together.

i bite my nails
and pull my hair
over the moment when he
inevitably
feels the disenchantment
fall over his body,
all clean lines
and smooth shapes,
and realises that leaving
the worst thing
would be
the best thing.

i am lonely
and even with a hand to hold,
and even with a cloak of security
bunching around my shoulders
and hiding my thighs,
i feel

moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:

giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --

burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.

it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.

insomnia to keep you closefalling asleep with the windows
open, with morning curling
around you like a drop of blue
ink in a glass of water,
turquoise and unwritten;

remembering when early dawn
was a secret you kept
in a soft, aortic pocket—

your dead lighter spinning
to the floor of Lake Ontario,
a halo of its bygone, synergetic flame.

Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs

I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight

I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family

I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push

I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"

I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says

I can't trust anyone because they do

Asperger's SyndromeAsperger’s Syndrome

This is what makes me different.
It is what makes me both distant and compassionate.
It is what makes me both tired and creative.
It is what makes me both sassy and awkward.
It is what makes me both fairly normal and completely insane at the same time.

This is what makes me amazing.
It is what gives me my talents and achievements.
It is what gives me my intelligence and ideas.
It is what gives me my humor and individuality.
It is what gives me my passion and dedication.

This is what makes me flawed.
It is what makes me confused and anxious.
It is what makes me exhausted and frustrated.
It is what makes me uncertai

field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.

MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings

Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee

Missing piecesMissing pieces

There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk in pieces, howling
around my heart.

-SophieCT, 2012, 2013

blood-red wine and skeleton jazz i.
the day you left,
your cobweb dress clung to you in ways
that i would dream about for years,
in hot, fevered nights
when the moon thought it might burst
in the sky,
and even the wind wailed your name.

ii.
i remember how you called make-up war paint,
and you drew it across your face like a message
i could never decipher;
i remember how i got goosebumps when i heard
your heels clicking across the floor at 3am
when you finally got home and slipped into bed;
i remember longing for you with every fiber of my being,
feeling separate from you even when our clothes lay on the floor
and your fingernails dug into my shoulders
and your toes curled

Anatomic and foreign inside of youAt times, I thought that roadmap
in your chest was the reason why I gathered
dust at night.

But one day,
on the coldest afternoon,
I dwelled in your body
through your eyelids

and travelled through these streets
long enough to know that your unexplained hunger
wasn't going to cease-
I was barefoot in the days
where the sun scorched its rage
on every drop of sweat hiding in my nape
that they gave up and ran away,

like little gypsies looking for an oasis
to build their tents in,
standing on bare sand dunes-
relieved that the prejudice of their pagan artistry
was replaced with acres
and acres of dry, barren landscape.

This was how I striv

inktrust me enough
to let me carve my love into the
quiet slope of your back.
let me feel each bone,
feel your spinal cord humming
beneath my fingertips.
let me feel
unsettled.

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MatterIt twists and turns and shifts
all around, all around my head.
Flickering dots everywhere
paintings bleeding red.

I blink and then they're gone again,
left staring at the dark.
The void of nothing all around,
the silent central spark.

I start to run away from nothing,
just drowning out my thought
with the pattern of my pounding heart,
the peace that I sought.

But the mission's all for nothing,
it simply cannot be
for the dark and the clouds and the shadow ones-
-they follow me.

Around and around and around it goes,
swimming all through me.
In the silence I can hear-
-I can hear it breath.

The Worst PainThe worst kind of pain,
the very worst kind
is the kind you don't feel at all.
The kind you can't 'walk off',
the kind no pill will help,
no doctor will rid.

It's the kind of pain
that exists in your heart,
the pain that comes with love.
The pain that aches but never bleeds,
the pain that makes you want to take
a knife and make it real.

But it's still pain.
And pain fades,
pain recedes,
pain goes away.
But love, unlike pain
will never ever cease.

Love is not your weakness,
love is your truest strength,
the pain it brings may burn like fire,
the hole may be hard to patch up
but the love will never die.

And amid that pass

To Please The BeastDeep down inside, hidden forever,
locked in a cage, seen but never,
never truly felt, I never dealt
with this calamity before.

Whispers deep inside my head,
my own voice says I'm dead,
the world itself is bleeding true
and I am the cause of its lament and rue.

I cannot let it run, you see,
it bleeds but nothing dies.
I am the one and two and three,
I am the beast who cries.

And inside, inside I feel!
I feel it twist and turn
and rake its claws -oh how real!
How real, such a burn!

Howling and screaming and screeching,
how strange, how strange of such a beast,
I send it all my information,
and give it quite a feast.

But no,

Frame Of MindThere's a place beyond the single frame of mind you know,
a place too dark to ever go,
a place found deep past mask and costume,
a place locked tight in a single room.

It sits alone and festers in silence,
eating the edges away.
And projected pictures of pain and violence
will ever remain here to stay.

It's a mental realm much too real for reality to find,
I have the key but dare not open this vicious state of mind.
And it's always there to swallow my hope,
so deep in its soul do I soak.

But I dare not let it out, you see,
it blackens all the light.
The monster trapped inside of me,
that only wants to fight.

The beast that wit

Death's SerenadeDeath's serenade
it's the dark and the rain
it's the sky and the fallen sun.
It's the splash of a tear
past the heart and the fear
that dwells in the sight of a gun.

He beacons and calls
so bright past the fall
of your own state of mind.
And he sings a great tune
from dusk until noon
removing the painful bind.

And oh how he sings!
And how his lyrics ring.
The world he sings so bright and new
so sprinkled with morning dew.
And he smiles, smiles to you
and tells you to take the gun.

Down a shadowed path of fear
lies the light that's drawing near
as he sings the joy of the moon.
Feel it in your empty heart
what you lost, ha

Murderer's LamentGive me sorrow,
give me pain
give me suffering
and rain.
Give me all that I deserve
and throw me to the curb.

Leave me nothing
and give me fire
can't you see that I'm a liar?
I do nothing and complain
In a world much too sane.

Beat me down
and throw me out.
Block my mouth
and I won't shout.
Leave me to rot
in a pool of torment.

And demons cry
for lost love past
and angles sing for death.
And I am sitting here on earth
No pain but every regret.

Torture, fear and sorrow
bring me it all tomorrow
make me feel every suffer,
every pain,
every death.

I want the punishment
you gave the innocent man.
I want to feel the sho

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Dear Sanity

by ~Go-a-Green-a, Mar 25, 2012, 9:07:36 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Dear Sanity,
I'm sorry you have to leave so abruptly
and I cannot say you will be missed,
but our time together was much too long
and now I'm much too free
to bother with you now.

You were always such a strain,
such a great burden to bear,
but now you've gone, off my shoulders
and I can dream once more.

As a child you sucked me in,
eager for the world
but now I've seen it and I must say
it's simply not for me.

So I will say what I like
whenever I decide
and I will live my own life
no matter who denies.

So, Sanity, my former friend,
I must ask you to leave.
Because I don't have time any more
to waste away with you.

Dear Sanityby ~Go-a-Green-a

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2012-2013 ~Go-a-Green-a

Sanity is quite annoying, wouldn't you agree?

~MegBeth Mar 26, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Mmm yes... quite...

Reply

~Go-a-Green-a Mar 26, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Indeed. Thanks.

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