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Green ChairA young man sat there,
in a chair that conformed to his body,
green and uncomfortable.
He was looking out the 2nd floor window
watching people coming in and going out.
His laptop warmed his thighs,
beads of sweat formed on his back and neck
A single tear stained his cheek.
He was writing a poem of pain.
He wanted nothing more
than for the poem to come true
He was writing a poem of pain.
He was writing...
It's YouIt's the light rain on my face.
It's the smell of morning dew.
It's the sun's warm embrace.
That reminds me of you.
It's all the memories of us.
It's how we never part.
It's our deep, limitless, trust,
That keeps you in my heart.
It's not about the mistakes we made
It's that in each other we see our best
It's about how our love will never fade,
That you make me forget the rest.
It's your little quirks.
It's how you made my heart anew.
It's how we forget our little irks.
It's how I knew... it's you.
What am I to write about?What am I to write about when everything I think of has been written about before
Every line and every rhyme in my head has been thought of already
Every situation that has affected me, others have already explored
Forcing rhymes, distorting the flow, my thoughts refuse to be steady
Yet I try and try to do my best but my best isn't better than the rest.
Love poems are chilling and killing my precious thoughts
Poems about nature have been beaten like the path that has been traveled by
I'm too happy to write about hatred for it makes me so distraught
Inspirational poems decimate my "what 'If'" scenarios, but I will continue to try
For if I try and try to do my best someday my best might compare to the rest.
I can't compare to famous poets like Poe and Shakespeare, Frost or Walt.
And what about Dickenson? Shel? Byron? Whitman? or Hughes?
So many great writers that my thought process might as well come to a halt.
No matter how I word it, my poems will never make the big news!
So why try an
Sonnet 2I saw your face today,
so I smiled and waved.
You looked down in dismay.
I can't believe how we both behaved.
My smile faded as I walked away,
you didn't give me a second glance.
I had nothing to say.
Should I have given you another chance?
I shouldn't be acting like this,
I am with someone new,
yet my thoughts still persist.
Do I still miss you?
As awful as we were to each other,
you will always be my first true lover.
Today has been a beautiful dayToday has been a beautiful day.
The skies thick with graying clouds
while fierce breezes blow dirt around
The dead grass shimmers a lovely shade of brown
not a single ray of light to be found.
The mood is brooding and everyone is sad
they're shut up inside but I couldn't be more glad.
For the grass, to me, looks to be greening
and the clouds don't look so bad.
The winds seem to be dying,
and I ain't even mad.
Some people hate these dark days,
I would have to say that I usually do too,
But it flew by in a blurry haze,
Cause time flies when I'm with you.
The Elementals: Rise of the Shinobi Chapter 1 pt 4Dawn sat down with her girlfriends while Gabriel found his friend, Terra, sitting all by himself, not moving and focusing on the whiteboard, which was completely blank.
“Woah, control your excitement, Terra! I know it’s the first day of school and all but that doesn’t mean you have to act like wild-child!”
Gabriel said with a smirk as he patted Terra on the back. Terra rolled his eyes, shook his head, and let out a short laugh. Terra and Gabriel had been best friends for as long as Gabriel could remember and, for as long as Gabriel could remember, Terra had always been a quiet type of person. His black hair was only a few shades darker than his skin; he almost never smiled or talked, and he towered over everybody in the entire school. Maybe it was because of his height that it looked like he had no muscle but Terra could pack a punch. Gabriel was thankful of this; one night during their freshman year Gabriel and Terra were walking home from a foot ball game and
Sonnet 3This smile has not been real for quite some time,
But this shroud of sadness has been lifted.
The breaking of one's heart should be a crime.
The reason behind my smile has shifted.
The pain a person can cause is shocking,
I used to think mine was unbearable.
Others' happiness seemed to be mocking
no previous pain was comparable
Time seemed to be my only remedy
Days, weeks, months, and years have all passed me by.
I met a friend, you, that all do envy.
That day I was healed, the day you said "hi"
I am feeling better, it must be true,
the happiness I have is thanks to you.
Sonnet 1In the morning light
when I see your beautiful face,
your eyes shine bright,
my heart starts to race.
In the afternoon hue
when your hair starts to gleam,
and it's just me and you,
you make my love teem.
In the evening glow
when you're in full splendor,
you're all that I know,
I will love you so tender.
My love for you will never fetter.
Than you? There are none better.
Let's Kill TonightThat blonde, she's a bomb, she's an atom bomb.
I knew I wouldn't forget you, and so I went and let you blow my mind.
This place about to blow.
Lace up your shoes, eyo, eyo, here's how we do,
We're the kids in America woah-oh,
Take my hand and come with me cause you look so fine and I really want to make you mine.
Tonight you're falling in love, this feeling's tearing me up.
If I had to choose her or the sun, I'd be one nocturnal son of a gun.
She's got all the right moves in all the right places,
And the moments when my good times start to fade, you make me smile.
The room's hush hush and now's our moment,
I wanna make you feel like you're the only girl in the world.
Four a.m. we ran a miracle mile, we're flat broke but hey we do it with style.
All the crazy shit we did tonight; those will be the best memories.
I still can't keep the day from ending,
Baby please don't go.
The the morning comes.
When can I see you again?
To you who writes until you bleed and cry and diei. You aren't the ruins of Greece.
You don't combust into fascination when the black
rose you planted years ago finally bloom and poison
your veins and stop your heart beat in black splotches
and dirty grenade. The Earth won't mould trees or
ocean or clouds into your image when rust seeps into
your wrist, turning you into a sculpture of grey hands
and silver blood. You won't smile knowing a spider is
creeping up your throat, spider webbing your tongue and robbing your voice away.
ii. You can't tame a wild boar with tombstone nails.
You don't have to get why your wounds rot like
the speed of a full-on hail storm and why others
have bowstring smile and pretty eyes all the
damn time. You don't have to know why your
musical box blasts in gunfires and thunderbolts
while other have rose tattoos exploding in fierce
fireworks and adrenaline-rushing stage fire. You
can't tame a wild boar with tombstone nails and
scraped metallic heart. You can't love yourse
The Female SuicideTwenty years of nursing
emergency room wounds
and my grandmother
puts down her fork, rubs
her brow and tells me
the female suicide
is a more methodical,
A woman will close
the curtains, cleanse
their apartment of clutter
for the first time in months
and proceed to overdose
in the comfort of their
A woman will do this
because she is aware
someone will have to
discover her like this.
Someone will have to
bury her like this.
My grandmother says this
because when my uncle speaks
paramedic about the male
he pronounced dead from
a house’s television antenna
he never mentions a burial.
the cultivation of neophiliai.
give in to it:
the insatiable restlessness
that haunts, heavy
in a familiar corner
of your eyeline.
drive toward the night.
halt only when you
can no longer
trace paths of neon
from streetlight to fingertip;
never quite reach the
eventually, stop trying.
look over the paper city
resting fragile below;
tear it to shreds
with vicious intent
forget that you have
loved and hoped and
for a moment
there is only you,
the night, and the need
desire like you've
never wanted anything,
search for the novel,
for the fantastical
and the faintest hint
of something new
in the sky-glow.
stand so high atop
wonder how they do not
under the weight
of all this empty
A Ball Of CherriesImagine life
like a ball of cherries.
You can't eat many,
Don't rush to eat them!
Some are soft,
Don't go too slow, you'll lose the taste.
storiesi begin and end with stories
where hummingbird hearts play sonatas
against my ribs and i drown in
early morning light and
the girl in me sinks into the sea
like rusting anchors chained to
ships and i sway port and starboard
the lion in me rises like lazarus
from the savannah where dust swirls
and i begin and end with stories
where i swallow the world and all
the rain and girls and lions in it
where i hold it up like atlas,
where i support jupiter with just
an index finger and where i chase
comets and cup them like fireflies
to hang on my bedroom walls
Blooming Through CrevicesBlooming Through Crevices
People are characters;
their personalities are not to be cracked,
but to bloom.
Codes and signals
Setting our sights
On how to see
Through the cipher.
Optics opting for options
As opposed to conscious.
Ardor replaced by harder
To break through exteriors.
But mortality is only one facet
Of the entirety of humanity.
It is a compass of one being,
But merely a piece of the puzzle
That makes up human composition.
let us not break through empathy
with deductive methodology
but rather with the rhythm
of a honeybee whistling along the hymn
of the wind whispering in the leaves.
humanistic, holistic ideologies
is what the standard can be.
it is the notion of being a metaphor
rather than being something to decipher.
because there are more stars and galaxies
in poetry than there will ever be algebraic
expression curls up with ambiance
under the window pain of a picture frame
because we write more about
broken bones and broken birdsdragonflies buzz between
your tangled fingers
seeking nectar under
your chewed nails,
but the bitter burn
of almond acid will
clip their mosaic wings.
you're centered at
nature's core, a
centrifugal force of gravity,
grasping and dragging
lives to your unforgiving
you strangled the wild
whistling hare underneath
the billowing willow, and
your tongue tripped into
compulsive lies and disbelief.
i mean c'mon, clearly,
it was an accident.
if that's the case
the blue-eyed raven
that crashed to earth
after striking a third
degree burn, should
have survived, but you
plucked feathers from its
wings and drowned it.
you have a way with
decaying everything you
touch, your soul, my
heart, a puppy in a
cardboard box, yet
we all keep coming
back to you.
i think we all know
that even though you
bend and break and
bully the world, you
are the most broken
of all, and i just want
to fix you.
San FranciscoGood lord, how long I've slept this time!
And from what undiluted dream
full of free space and meadows,
brickless and feral,
lost in terrible infant whims,
streaking from trees to the hazel in the dusk,
have I come creaking to this ancient face?
If I ever find le sens de la vie
writhing underleaf in a crooked line of ants
or rippling in a koan made of cigarettes butts
then I’ll go back to San Francisco
and look her beggars in their pupils
and talk to her gypsy witch doctors,
listen to uningestible trumpet masters,
commiserate with the legless street congress,
revisit the subterranean shrine to urine
that sifts through the walkers at 2nd and Market,
and make love to some lost pearl of the Orient.
I’ll interrupt her philosopher queens as they serenade their oracles,
crawl in wretched street machines, carousel coins in rusty slots
that screech down to the wharf of the seal paparazzi
communing with dead architects of gleaming concrete miracles
IronyI asked for it.
I wanted it so desperately.
Oh, how I thought I needed it.
I pathetically yearned for it,
making stupid reasons as to why it should be mine.
It would be everything I needed and more.
It would calm me in times of anxiety.
It would raise my spirits in times of sorrow.
It would accompany me in times of loneliness.
I had given everything for it.
Then I realized
it only brought upon me more stress
it only brought upon me more sorrow
it only brought upon me more loneliness.
I asked for it,
I received it.
I never wanted it.
hey newton, gravity's flawedi.
starting anew from the flutter
and the sputter of lungs.
a vacant sea filled with feathers
and tumultuous clatter,
ribs in a treacherous pattern
resembling exiting rungs.
i want to wrestle the angels,
your tendency is the ladder.
involved with full indiscretion,
trading lazy for lace.
unspool the curse of the long-
limbs in a languorous flexion
i like the stab of the ankles,
you need the curves intersected.
opting to cull my extents
with trans-dimensional vigor.
spent my dysphoric corrections
on reconnecting lax ends.
lips in a spurious accent
feign a passionate rigor.
i tie myself to the anchor,
you extricate and ascend.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More