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a few poems by me
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19-01-2004 09:19 ModernDayPrayer | 
371 posts
| Warning: Somewhat graphic and angry. These pieces reflect emotions and thoughts felt at the particular time. These are rough, rough drafts; taken word for word from my journal. Would appreciate any comments, questions, suggestions, threats, "this stinks," etc.
Being Anti-War in America
This one, I felt the need to include an intro. I felt a lot of helplessness, a lot of guilt, and a lot of shame at the time I wrote this.
The sunlight feels cold on my back,
carrying the pains and cries of children-
motherless and fatherless, impoverished.
Gravity pulls my feet, but guilt rides me
down like a horny girl trying to make a 20.
I'm better off coming, than hearing a mother’s
lament, wiping her kid's blood with the hem
of her dress. A soldier’s hat stands on an M-16,
the chin straps wave with the desert wind unlike
the folded flag given to Josh Taylor's parents.
Pouring Salt into an Open Wound
Water fills my lungs, and I’d rather die
this way than find myself surfacing
into your grace. My body crashes
into the ocean rocks. The skin tears,
the gashes open, and the water rushes
beneath my wounds. The salt seeps
into my cuts, embracing blood.
My body floats above water.
Hands Tight
Your face is so lovely
when you’re struggling
for air. Hands tighter,
I say. My thumbs press
down where my tongue
used to caress your neck.
Your blue eyes match
your blue lips. Let me
kiss you one last time.
You pull on my arms,
scratch wildly at my wrists.
I lower my face into your
hair. The smell of his sex
burns my lungs. My love
for you ceases at the final
drumming of your heart. |
| Showing posts 1-6 of 6 | Page 1 of 1 |
| Reactions |
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| 19-01-2004 09:26 DNA_Maniac |
4,823 posts
|
* offtopic :
Hey guys! he said its oppen for any comment so plz dont say anything to me! 
well the 2. to is crap fro me..
but tha last got some in it...
i think u must stop telling little hapenenings all the time..
ermm ok so clearly:
into the ocean rocks. The skin tears,
the gashes open, and the water rushes
beneath my wounds. The salt seeps
into my cuts, embracing blood.
My body floats above water
its so boring when it goes like this all the time..
plz try on it..
DRAGS 'N' ALCOHOL | | 19-01-2004 09:27 DNA_Maniac |
4,823 posts
| *the first 2
DRAGS 'N' ALCOHOL | | 19-01-2004 09:31 ModernDayPrayer |
371 posts
| Yeah. The second one doesn't do anything for me neither. I was going to keep it just at:
Water fills my lungs
and I’d rather die
this way than find
myself surfacing
into your grace.
But I don't know; I wrote this in a kitchen, and kept thinking about salt. | | 19-01-2004 09:32 DNA_Maniac |
4,823 posts
| ROFL!
DRAGS 'N' ALCOHOL | | 28-01-2004 08:11 ModernDayPrayer |
371 posts
| Alright. These are newer, and I've added a little intro for each.
I Lick You
(This poem is my least favorite, but I like the first sentence! You know how it is--the beginning of relationships are usually lovey-dovey.)
Your eyes remind me of chocolate ice cream.
Your lips are the color of red lollipops, cherries,
and licorice. You smell of cinnamon and bread.
Your skin tastes of warm honey as your fingers
run along my lips. I lick your sweetness.
The Mourning After
(Eh. Tough break-up, I assume. Lots of references to sex, young 'uns.)
I have very few memories of your hair,
a blackened waterfall, flowing across
my naked chest. Steam from our bodies
rose like early fog above the Yellowstone.
Your scent surfaced from my bed, and lingered
for days in the corners my room. I attempted
to drown myself in gray sheets, pressed
my mouth where your head lay. Tears surround
the brown islands of my eyes, and I can’t remember
the last time I smelled morning dew and sex.
A Conversation with Kelly Before I Kill Her
(This along with "Hands Tight" are my favorite poems because I like to write about killing Kelly; she likes to write about killing me. And this is as close to counseling as we'll ever get.)
The night passes slowly for us.
I guess could stab you once,
and you'd never feel the wound
expand around the blade.
You might die too fast though,
and no one wants that. I want
to taste the blood that drips
from your fingers, lick the tears
from the corners of your eyes,
the tears that fall to your pale cheeks.
You shiver for the wrong reasons.
Your body arches in reaction
to the knife along your broken spine.
Is that a gasp for air or mercy?
Do you want to watch me take
your warm heart into my hands?
I'll stop the beating if you ask nicely. | | 28-01-2004 08:12 ignacio |
14,843 posts
| Very good  good job |
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