[x]

the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav

we are not a fairytalewe are not a fairytale.

I am not the strong lead with a heart of fire,
bones of steel, and eyes of vapid curiosity;
motivation seeping through
my every last intended action because
I was written this way

(the heroine falls only to rise again:
proverbial phoenix, burning out
because it is the cycle of my
life) and you, you are not

the beautiful travesty, perfectly composed
to strike me where I’m weak and
[almost]human, delicately woven
like the tapestry of my dismantling—
a subtle irony where somewhere, a writer
chuckles softly, understanding

we are blinder than church mice, born
in a makeshift world of darkness where
I&rsquo

Onceyour beauty lies restless behind those
hills, where you fought valiantly. and
the man you once were was brave and kind,
but now you are possessed by a passenger
of darkness, whispering words of your
loneliness.

the man you once were is forgotten, and
the man you are today, is only a ghost, a
shadow, of what you were before.

SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free

Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?

FossilizedLiving proof of fossils alive,
and no horseshoe-crab am I.

Nor, inhabitable harsh compression of plates,
residing under humid marsh-scapes.

I mold into the walls, as chalky old coal.
But I am no mineral, no era.
I am not, Mesozoic.

Through the ages
Iron
Bronze
silver, gold and heroic.

I remain a still-life; and no Iduna's apples would retain my youth
No magic fountains, or time devices, or wrist watches.
I am the machine of time.
The watcher, omnipotent, the wise.

But

no God am I

Somewhere, sweet tangy sap trolleys down cracked bark.
Somewhere, celestial bodies erupt unseen.
Somewhere, a abrupt breeze blows overturned bi-cycle tire

Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain

bookworm“there is no such thing
as reading too much.”
that is what I tell you
when you insist

that there is some danger of
becoming lost in the stuff—
mistaking seriphs for serpents,

swallowing a story so whole
that its hook
sticks in my throat.

“there is no such thing
as reading too much”
I tell you, bold-faced,
surrounded by snakes
with a line through my lip.

Prelude       Nocturne;
I conjure the moon
as dusk crests,
       a wave across the sky

       I am lovely and lonely in
       the night, shadow-
       shackled to the mountainside

and the moths
unfurl their hamsa-wings as
mama calls me in.

HorsepowerHorsepower

There’s a knife turnin in my soft parts
And heat burnin my mind on hard starts
The motors runnin but I lost the wheel
Just want it to be numb don’t wanna feel
Take two steps back and put it in park
Before I leave scarred up black marks
I need a u-turn on this highway
But can’t go back on the by-way
So look ahead, the pavement goes on
Break the rear-view mirror it’s gone
Contemplate
Reiterate
Put it in drive
And say goodbye
Let’s see how fast this bitch can fly

-Cygam7

nightmarethe foxes are at your bedside and singing--
feversongs,
songs of boiling thoughts
and broken muscles.
their lullabyes.
they sneak so quiet, and
somehow,
you can't quite
dream
anymore.

Here and There, Now and ThenBurnt umber dawn, swaying electric trees
Thousands of souls chant in the summer wind
Journals of the dead are read by schoolchildren
They awake shaking someone else's dreams from their heads

Static electricity on the nape of your neck
In the television, on your phone, in your dinner
The calling of a murder of crows from the trees
You remember the view from the hospital room window

A smorgasbord of life and limb, death and decay
The antiseptic smell has an undercoating of rot and dirt
Talismans won't work any more than prayers and candles
Soldiers still fight lost wars, glory in the faded night

Tall fences are built to keep the worlds separ

Puppet My tears fall,

like invisible

diamonds.

My heart beats,

like soundless

drums.

Unwanted,

because of the

strings attached.

Lost In ConfusionMy mind is spinning without a rest
emotions whirl and twirl around
A merry-go-round gaining speed
Until the world blurrs before my eyes
What's happening? What's going on?

The simplest thought slips away
Right from my mind, fading so fast
Trying to focus, I stare and stare
Until my eyes are heavy and unclear.
I don't understand, what is going on...

Emotions rise and fall again
Within the blink of an eye
I'm crying, laughing, and depressed
A rollercoaster ride that never ends
Am I losing my mind in this ?

I try to close my eyes and rest
But the world spins me around
I feel like I am failing this test
Voices and noisies echo in my min

How To WriteHow to write:

Write a word.
Now write a sentence.
Write a paragraph.
A chapter.
A story.
The end. ♥

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More from ~Siniztah

The Seasons of ManIs it mere coincidence that spring,
Much like a child, is born tender,
Fragile, and mild, then grows and
Blooms with skin soft as petals and
Blushed cheeks that match their tone?

Might it be chance that summer comes
On as headstrong as a youth? Wildfires
Raging all throughout, not easy to control.
Some of life's sweetest memories can be
Found in this season, and the rising summer
Of man's short life too, is splendid for this reason.

Strange that autumn starts colorful and ends
So bare and ashen. Leaves wrinkle and fall,
And in parallel, mens skin and hair do the same.
Trees become tired, and flowers are faded,
But life and be

UntitledI heard my phone vibrate, but you
Weren't texting me. No one was. A
Smile caught my unwanting eyes
Gracing lips that were not yours.
It scraped across my ribcage like
The back edge of a Knife, then it fell.

Your scent lingers here, though you
Have never set foot in my house. It
Clings to the clothes you left in a bag
That is slumped over in the corner like
A corpse. I haven't gotten to throwing
Them out. I may never get to it, really.

Though it's true that I haven't seen you
In months, more tragic things have happened.
I forget the sound of your voice and haven't
A clue what you look like, but I will likely
Survive... albe

Von DeutschlandLike a crying baby removed from its mother's breast,
I have only heard stories of her. She is alive and well.
I do not know who I am, a prisoner inside of this new land.
Mein geist, it has gone mute; I cannot speak my mother tongue.

I have only heard stories of her. She is alive and well.
Even the older generation has forgotten where we came from.
Mein geist, it has gone mute; I cannot speak my mother tongue.
Now I am punished for the crimes her other children have done.

Even the older generation has forgotten where we came from.
Forsake the old ways for we must adopt the new.
Now I am punished for the crimes her other children ha

You said you wanted it to be about youWe barely
Just
Noticed
One another,
And I
Want
To lie
By your side
As the stars
Spiral in the
Dark horizon
Beyond.

For My MuseI think it started with a cup of tea.
How can I ever be something more than
Me, maybe more like you: Brutal, lovely, true,
Yet somehow modest with all that you do.

Your words are the diamonds that I never
Owned, the dioxide to my flower. Your
Glass shards, truth I could absorb
Hour after hour. Of burning eyes, I too
Have learned something of defeat. The
Next girl that says she cares, I may
Feign death and retreat. Perhaps we
Might take a walk, not as lovers, but
friends, and as worlds apart,through
The forest of night shielded from the
Dying sun by a canopy of twilight.

A single breath, I too have breathed,
Maybe the breath yo

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An English Majors Head

by ~Siniztah, Nov 27, 2012, 1:11:47 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Fingernails tear at the flesh,
The flesh tears black and yellow.
Tired of being your Caliban, why
Can't I be Othello? Falsely
Portrayed and poorly played
My hour upon the stage, so stick
your fingers in my script and
Turn the bleeding page.
Without a doubt I too am mad, bad,
And dangerous to know. Maybe because
The goblin market is a place I like
To go. And yes I know, a good man is
Hard to find, but maybe it's because
"Good" is so truly hard to define.
I have been lost in books a while
And stuck in my imagination, this
Poem is a kind of Shellyesque corpse
Amalgamation of dead literary thoughts
Revived with the monkeys paw. I'm
Mentally paddling through an ocean
Of words I've read and Images I saw.
I have walked through fields with
Wordsworth, and been socially concerned
With Blake, Died young with Keats,
And explored many things with Yeats.
You may at this point wonder why my
Rhyme is inconsistent, or you might
Have stopped reading already because
I seem so distant. Feel free to pick at
My sing-songy scheme, or whatever is in
Your head. It matters to me very little
Because it's likely this won't be seen
Before I am dead.

An English Majors Headby ~Siniztah

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I know this isn't a good poem, but it was something fun to try.

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An English Majors Head

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