*inspired by this quote: "Love is not moral or immoral. It just is," from City of Ashes by Cassandra Clare.*
Firewood crackles in your eyes,
glowing like a pretty little swearword.
And I ask where you came from, lover;
from the aging spring moon or
the shipyards outside of town
where we found each other
that first night when your
hands were cold around my waist and
my breaths were coming out
in impatient gasps of poetic escapism
as you kissed me under
the street lamp pretense
of wanting to head on home?
Are we just a little too far gone,
lost in a swirl of colorful smoke
- inspired by Brokeback Mountain.
We hoard these letters because nothing
can come out of the complicated magic
we shared and you were things
that I didn't want to think about;
pictures I couldn't see with
eyes that were used to a traditional
dinner scene with lace settings and
a girl in the kitchen,
humming pretty tune that didn't fit.
But you were completely different
and that was spectacular
like a rundown sunset,
a dragonfly lost in the cherry darkness.
Boy, come on, come here..
It's all I've ever wanted to say,
but the excuses got lodged in
There was too much power
in the air when we met.
It tasted like salt and
stuff little boys are made of;
plastic yellow and blue cars,
candy wrappers and lined paper.
You wrapped a hand around
the back of my neck,
made me feel the warmth
of sex and freedom;
hard kisses under a streetlamp,
in front of a church
just for the sake of showing
how bad-ass we were.
Oh boy, what did I get myself into?
Another evening of misdemeanors with you,
burning scrapes on my spine,
pink t-shirts and car doors slamming as we
ran into the birthday glitter
These are the poems I wrote on Facebook. Hope you like them.
Fate will come a knocking.
While Memories will wash upon a shore
An Idea will come from no where
The words shall be never more
The skies will surely fall
The ocean will eventually turn red
The universe is full of wonder
In life we cannot be easily read.
The day is but a journey
The night is nearly past
The sun gives us glory
Our love may never last
The Fate is spun
The Memory is made
The Idea is last
The Words shall fade
The skies will calm
You guys have to check out Richard Siken's poetry! It's seriously one of the most brilliant and beautiful things I've ever read and it's helping me write the boy/boy poems I've posted here as of late :P My favorite poem of his is called "Little Beast" but they're all so seductive and gorgeous and haunting. Here's a link to his webpage but I went as far as buying his book "Crush" on Amazon because I'm that much in love with his writing :D So I hope you enjoy it also..
threading the needle and
portrayed by a picture
of what one is wishing to be,
falling and stalling,
running and chasing,
escaping what cannot be,
white willow emerging from those saving,
blinding and binding the forgotten,
for nobody cares,
its only fair,
that death be equal
and trial be just but,
corrupting and shamming is,
I wouldnt expect you to understand,
to lend a hand,
to help another man,
I wouldnt expect you to care,
given the incredible pain you bear,
I wouldnt expect you to see,
that nothing in life is free,
Your mind so young and body so old,
producing offspring in your mold,
And even after everything said,
you laugh at me, and beg,
What a life you live,
What a life you give,
what a life.
For more of my work visit
It took you sucking the sweetness from the pears in my garden
To make me want to get clean,
To stop taking the drugs you blasted through the airwaves,
To go from celebrity crushed to crushed by a celebrity.
Because the last thing I need is someone else telling me what a real man should do,
I get enough of that already.
I stood up for you when people called you a slut,
Told them where to stick their criteria for a promiscuous woman,
Thought that what you were doing wasn't feminism,
But neither was telling you to stop, that it's somehow worse when you objectify men
I wrote this last night.
All these thoughts rushing through my head
So many words left unsaid
Just like monsters hiding under my bed
In the darkness lurking...
My heart is filled with lead
My eyes are going red
I'm slowly and steadily being led
To a place dark and disturbing...
I just need some space to clear my head
Lying alone in the dark on my bed
Thinking of children who just don't get fed
Doesn't seem to be working...
I think of how often I've been misled
Maybe it was something I had said
All I know is my soul has bled
And my heart is really hurting...
"Valde specialis amicus"
'Bonum, malum vidimus omnes, /
alium adiuvat nos cum caderem,
per tempora anni per /
nostris risu, nostroque ploratu /
ego tibi et mihi et /
consideratis ego propinquans familia /
non sit relicta vacant secreto /
amicitiam valet multo auro /
etiam videtur mundus nigris /
invenies inferre retro /
ostendere signa videre occasum /
Haec sunt in sempiternum non obliviscar /
scire nobis longa credas scimus omnia /
Sed quaedam de nobis quasi Qabala /
scio voles siue conseruatio jam fragum /
si scitis ut vel exponere verbis nisi /
My woeful sapphic life
so hidden and tragic, yet so free
she is my ungotten fruit
I do not know why, but I have had this insatiatable craving of creating poetry all day. It might possibly be because of my own discovery of a few poems I had done a couple months back, very random poems, that perfectly and appropriately fit my favorite poetic prose style known as Sapphic Stanza.
Hiya everyone! I'm new here and I didn't really know what to write for my first entry, so here's a poem I wrote for a poetry jam at my school. I hope you guys like it!!!
Guys Are Yummy:
When people look over here, I wonder what they see
because their complimenting isn’t quite all is cracked up to be.
You see, their eyes can’t see past the
(6π ± 2i√5)/cosΦ (six pi plus-minus two i radical five over cosine phi)
that makes me feel like suicide. No!
When I get recognized I want them to see me,
all two hundred and thrity pounds, five and two-thirds feet
My English class in school has started a poetry unit, which is nice because I like poetry. The main assignment though, is to write a poem pertaining to our "heritage, family, ethnicity, or cultural veiwpoint." The stongest cultural ties I have though are to people like all of you and I don't know if that's a proper writing topic for english class, despite the fact that my English teacher is a feminist, has a history of sympathy towards the queer students at my school, and seems to like me.
soothe thy inner flame
it burns thy soul & body
not known is it though
life both fair and fun
never one to pick a fight
eight-striped coloured flag
blade and chalice meet
from their union, comes a kid
to the eyes a blade
in his heart of hearts
he feels as a chalice wrapped
entombed within life
when will eyes uncloud?
true beauty is not direct,
look beyond the terms!
in one's life one falls
be it once or many times
can you choose who for?
the boy who moved in?
Sue from fourth grade chemistry?
love could choose either
is this truly wrong?
God came to me in a dream and said,
“Hey Greg, have you ever realized
that only crazy people are blessed with visions of me?”
I said, “Why, yes God, that is true, if only for the fact
That the people you choose to contact fail to realize that
Your presence is but a dream.” I said as several pink
flamingos flew by my head.
God expressed a great, booming laugh, “That is why I have come
to you, my child. I wish for you to partake in everyday deeds and relish in
the triviality of it.”
I pondered aloud, “God told me to buy some groceries.”
We walk through this desert with a thirst that is never quenched. We are offered signs of beauty though what we are given is never clenched. Alone we walk unaware of it all but so sure of what we think. We cannot face the questions we're given and it brings us to our brink. We sink beneath our sheets and sulk within our revery. It reminds us of who we aren't and what we always wish to be. Denial is a trial that is trivial with time. Love is all we ever need and what we always wish to find. Behind us is our future, and before is our past.
warm teardrops run down
slowly across our faces
as we say good-bye
all too soon,
as I sit in my room.
He pours another drink
and I can't help but think
this isn't where I'm meant to be.
I want to fall
on my knees,
for an artist
more from me
than a muse.
don't ever abuse me.
Take my picture,
i'm not me on film
strangled by city lights.
Summer comes much too slow.
you said over and over
until it became something
i needed from you
your voice, your hands, your texts
i love you, i want you, i need you
what you began to see
was that i loved you more
i held your hand one night
i held your body another
i held you like the lovers
i wished we could be
you sensed that i wanted you
and you, you ran away
i was left alone
i never got over you
jagged edges to this wound
i tried, so fucking hard
but my dreams, traitors
came with blunt force
until every night as i slept
i was with you, and we were one
you said those words to me
I feel like this could be a day like any other, on of us has to move but we wait for the other to move first. I’ll force a laugh to break our stillness, your silence concerns me. This is only going to get harder, before it turns easy. We can’t keep safe, if we need to take a break.
I am alone in this now, I am as I’ve always been. You seem so lost in her, so lost to me. You look like you always will be, just beyond my reach. But I will keep trying.