[x]

XXXXXEven now,
part of me
(my hands)
want to
pull out
that glass
she lodged
in her neck.

Pull it out
and drop it
into pieces,
or keep it
in the back seat
of my car.

Where it can
lay a while
and stare at me.
Part of me
(my chest)
is not afraid
of demons.

It is far less
dangerous
than girls with
haphazard knives
and other
monsters.

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
neither the Sun nor the Moon no longer
ache to see me fly in their luster.

Chasing Butterflies

I believe in starry nights writing timeless songs
of all the yesterdays and tomorrows yet to come.

I believe in hearing the voice of love in rhyme;
I heard it as a child in my mother's lullabies.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

I believe in playing, absorbing life's full sun,
dancing through the day until the night is done.

I believe in wishing wells never running dry,
granting us the time for a tender, slow goodbye.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

Should I cross to the other side,
don't you worry; don't you cry.

There you'll see where tomorrow I'll be,
forever chasing butterflies...

A Rebel's BloodI lived on hollow promises and
dreams as thin as mist.

And kings and lords
who offer gold
in return for my head.

Through the Golden Palace Gates
I'm met with oaths, made to be broken.
I'm met with lies and truths, unspoken.
I'm met with eyes that have seen what I
never dreamed of seeing.
And eyes of crying, blind, fresh beings.
I'm met with suffocated desires.
I'm met with raging hateful fires.

There's a masked man who was paid
a few million pieces to chop my head.
He raises a sword. All what there ever was fades.

I shut my eyes...
I breathe.

on excusesthe floor creaked with a pressing tone
and my toes crept sadly toward you.
i heard the sounds
deep inside of your throat-
before they could come out,
before you could think them,
before you could stutter an
apology.

i was up all night and
the thought that, you,
were sleeping somewhere
naked, with your fingers
stretching and your dreams
retching up what you couldn't
admit to awake- was too much for me.
maybe if i
was next to you while you
were dreaming, your body
would admit to me that you
loved me. and you wanted to make
me cum. it had been so long.

you blinked hard, fast
your eyes shaking, dying fish.
i pulled you apart
like the ribbon

False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.

HollowHollow
Is her chest.

She feels around for emotions;
Sadness and anger is what she has mastered the best.

World moves around her
In top-speed rate,

While she stands still or get maneuvered around
Like a dense grey stone in the rapids of fate.

Erosion shapes her outsides
As a rough unapproachable being;

It builds up the pressure inside
Where she's really quite more softer than what you're seeing.

But don't expect for there to be a heart,
It's already shattered to pieces and is reformed from charred coals;

Even now and again it is crumbling apart;
Life has filled it with so many holes....

Hollow
Is her chest.

She feels no emotion,
Exce

EqualityEquality

Today my rainbow flag
Stands proud next to
The American flag.

Today my flag is counted
Equal. Represents equality
To our nation.

Today the rainbow flag
Represents the gay
Community not as a

Separate any longer
But as a whole. As
My state Minnesota
Legalizes gay marriage.

On The Collapse Of Modern Society"I've never seen so many folks
putting their hopes
in packaged air,
as far as I'm concerned,
and from what I've observed
misplacing material worth while
rushing back and forth
to get nowhere."
my Grandma said,
shaking her head.

BalanceWe tend to see the bad in the good
But not the good in the bad
And it turns out we missed
Just how much good we had
Because life is all ups and downs
As the saying goes
But instead of striving for ups
We just go with the flow
We overlook what’s around us
And only focus within
When it should be about balance
Like a bird in the wind

Too strong, too weakWe were on the verge of wisdom but
So young, still.
As young as the freshly born flowers,
Too weak for winter, too strong for love.
We've believed often that the world
Belonged to us
And we let our emotions take us deep.
We were young lovers,
Young haters,
Young liars,
And young fools.
My mother taught me to block out my tears.
She said that when we start feeling, truly feeling
We will sink into the abyss of madness.
"I will never love. I will never hate," said the golden girl.
"I will never cry. I will never fear," said she.

Prayer to Odin from experienceAl-father Odin! You who hung for 9 days and suffered on the tree of Yggdrasil.
In so you received and gave us the runes and its mysteries.
You who have given up an eye to see and know beyond sight and knowledge.
Allow me to be strong through my own sacrifice and suffering.
So that one day, I can achieve great wisdom through what has happened to me.
Allow my mind to open and to focus on what i must do.
One day, I cannot always criticize what is before me.
From experience, I was angry and put down a faith that i knew was untrue.
Though you may have smacked me upside the head a few times
for my foolishness and ignorance. But I did deserve it a

Within A BoxIt's a prison for the minds of haunted souls
an odd prison, not large enough to contain its prisoners
and yet it encompasses every fiber of their being
in silent, silent spaces.
Haunted souls are searching for the key
there is no key, but they don't know any better
and what harm could it do? Hope is better than nothing
here's an unlocked open door for you.
Little trinkets haunt souls with their questions
and we want answers, but they won't give
anything away. Very smart,
you know the world is ending soon.
(The best of which are only
crude descriptions of the magic
they are looking for.)

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

Evolution of life

child, we dream
teenager, we have ideas
adult, we have a bar code encrusted in the nape

we evolve to finish in the matrix

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in the morning

i wake around five to a bonfire behind the overcast
and the heels of a slag making racket on motel steps.
there's a mirror beside my bed, to trace my eyes
with pencil lead and paint my skin real grey
(like tiretracks in the snow).
homesewn and sunk, like that
old slag on junk. where is
the femme fatale
i want to be.

the dry river bed is like a map of her labia as my retinas rectify the stiffly waning moon. and we'll toss cigarettes, lit into the belly beneath the bridge and i'll think about how her news hit real close to home. the jesus juice defines our liver in swallows, from beneath the lamplight and out across where the water once flowed. i'll hork down in the reeds and shotgun the last beer ... then maybe later i'll even walk her home.

heart on the dashboard

heart on the dashboard

more mileage than my dad's beat up t-bird
she sailed the roadside until dawn viewing wildflowers
through the car windows of nauseous passengers
with sea salt on the brain she slept to eat beer bottles
nearly breaking as the masculine tides corroded her skeleton
in the dry reeds down by the patbay highway

where is she now,
my viking sex virago
?

mixed tape

side a

i was just a girl
with the procreation blues,
a telephone and a cigarette in hand.
i used to play pirates beneath the twilight
on the swingsets,
my heart out sailing
the highseas of telephone
transmissions.

i thought love was like riding bikes on ecstasy,
screamin : this feeling ain't never
gonna stop.

end side a

side b

forget the playground slides;
rusted paint slivers in my palms
are only a reminder
of how much i want him
back.

he used to tell me
i'd have nothing to remember him by;
but now i sit and swing, listening
to the cassette tapes of his voice, ghost
and echo back.

end s

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[x]

volcanic glass

by ~cockv, Dec 25, 2008, 1:31:57 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

latin can not describe the electricity
of blue veins suspended in cala lily skin. they fan out,
protazoic, dormant beneath a sea of iced flesh.

i grip the sink, peroxide strands of kelp washing up
on the banks of my shoulders like
the white-gold sunshine

that would prism behind your chinook arch
with all the beauty of a nuclear winter.

for the transplant of my frontal lobe
to the heaven above his stratus comforter, instructions
have been written. next time he is carried in on a foen wind i am to

one, stand very still

two, present my brain to the sky

and three,
wait for the apricots
of sunrise to settle
into the overcast of his eyes.

i practise a little and wish i had a veinous hum, skeptical
that an electrocardiogram could detect a beat.

volcanic glassby ~cockv

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

sometimes when i look in the mirror, i can't imagine that i can actually be perceived

~Vesiculae Jan 23, 2009

That 7-syllable word in the last line really musses up the ending's rhythm. Find a synonym.

Otherwise, this is really gorgeous.

~Temari-hime Dec 25, 2008

i liked it better the first time.

~cockv Dec 26, 2008 Student General Artist

hahaha thanks

it'll go through lots of edits. cause i'm a freakshow

~jonzoiplu Dec 25, 2008

i'd suggest cutting the yellow/pigment since carotenoid should be plenty, which might change up the visual arrangement of the piece (to play with enjambment or something) to something like

"latin cannot describe the electric
blue that fans like seaweed within
the pale waters of flesh, so rich
in carotenoids and oh
so fucking vernacular.

veins wading in a cala lily sea
never gave them a hum

or the electrocardiogram
something to measure"

and maybe throw in some latin for fun? like "ego imbibo profundum".

or not.

cheers,

~cockv Dec 25, 2008 Student General Artist

grazi grazi

take that into consideration

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volcanic glass

volcanic glassby ~cockv

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