johnathan's picture

one more murder

one more murder
and i can't feel the pain
stab and stab
such pretty bloodstains

one more murder
and i count stars
blow after blow
victim of wars

one more murder
and i close my eyes
swinging, swinging
smile for my cries

one more murder
and i finally die
is this my bliss,
this truth that i lie?

one more murder
and you walk away
kill me again...
just promise to stay

nydolls1973's picture

La réconciliation / Parle

c'était le réconciliation
je t'aimerai quand je viens, quand je vais, quand je pense que
il n'y a pas de réconciliation
je t'ai eu, et j'ai apprendu
puis; toujours; et pour quoi?
Je n'avais pas raison,
Tu n'avais pas tort.
J'espère que tu vois que tu as tort un jour. je sais que je suis masochiste
et maintenant, rien pour moi comme toujours........

some medicinal plato's picture

come on, love. will you read it?

1. To nothing and back

Nothing breathes here, where ice slides off
and disappears. The navy sky does not sing; it is full
of unfocused nothing—the air, weak from only carrying the sound
of ice losing itself while Erosion our mother
hurries everything to its future self.
Nothing is so heavy; ice only knows to shatter itself
and float in pieces under the sag of the blue sky,

Anonymous's picture

Gay Like Me Project Shelved...For Now

Well, I got six submissions for the Gay Like Me project this time. Kudos to the six of you who made the effort. I really appreciate it. Unfortunately, it's not enough to go ahead with the project at this time.

nydolls1973's picture

I Did I See v. 1 - 8, Trust the Rhythm

This is a supplement to my last journal; all EIGHT versions of the poem I wrote just documenting the wounds of March and April. The first one is automatic writing; which is just a technique of the surrealists that is writing without thinking about it.

nydolls1973's picture

U & I

U & I wos quite Ashame'd --
U exhausted my trys with your Savage uh Rhetoric
Disjointed worrys that U started me out with --
U must be so ashamed. beyond the failures of doubt.

Well i too
needs a resolution --
(people arent eclectic)
but theys got thy'r delusions.

U & I wos quite Confuse'd --
Well it wos more i then it wos more U

nydolls1973's picture

Of Youth

well i refined the think/tank degenerate
in a pained yet naturelle disguise in the forest of black Rimbaud
washed in the rivers with the iron grate of Rimbaud
demi/speed in the changing hosts of the will to lead
in the water / washed in the chorus of rivers

past the heating vent in a cascading impulse like every hair of Magritte

underdarkness's picture

Special Rights

I want to live without fear or persecution for who I am…
Is that a special right?

I want to walk hand in hand with the one I love, not fearing backlash or awkward stares…
Is that a special right?

I do not want to fear being myself around those I don’t know…
Is that a special right?

Inkblot's picture

Fallout, or, An Entirely Unpleasant Adventure In Insomnia

Written from four pages of long and scribbly writing from last Thursday night.


Anxious, hot coffee shudders and twitchy eyes, mutters and whispers
Overflowing, running maniacally, shivering
Shaking yourself enough so you don't feel the pain
You can't sit still, if you do you'd have to listen
To the sound and fury rattling in the caverns of your head

underdarkness's picture

For Gods and Flags

An icy blue gaze
I never thought I’d fall for.
So distant as the skyline,
Yet he came right back to me.
From bounding over kings
To offering his wings.
He left me standing by
And all I had to do was fly.

The clouds that kiss the sky
Left me wondering why
You told me all you tried
And gained from this wide eyed

Beloved dressed in back
Stuck in a burning attack;

Inkblot's picture


Written while thinking of a little transgirl I heard about. May she and all like her be well.


Don't cry, my mermaid
Don't sigh, my mermaid
Let me follow you into the sea
It's going to be alright
You can put your trust in me
I will hold you through the night

Don't scream, my mermaid
Just dream, my mermaid
Someday it can all come true

ReinbowGrl's picture

A poem, an update, and I feel like a Barbie...

My lips taste of the tears that always fall for you.
Loving you is like leaving you.
Painful any way.
I've been Raising Kain for 2 years.
And raising hell since the day I was born.
Let me enjoy my play on words that make everybody laugh.
This is an easy way out and you presented it.
So I can say things that will hurt you.
But not me, because I'm so damn numb
I can't even feel the cold.

Anonymous's picture

Gay Like Me - The Resurrection - REMEMBER THIS DATE: 6.29.07


I know that many of you were disappointed by the failure of the Gay Like Me Project. Well, so was I, so much so that I decided to try it again in a little bit different way. I believe that this new project can and will succeed, so everyone listen up and get ready to participate.

haleyxlynn's picture


You said it didnt matter that there would always be a you and me i can still hear your laughter its ringing in my ears like the after affects of your last show i trusted you with all my fears you protected me, sheltered me in turn i would shower you with my on

underdarkness's picture

Soft Blur

People never comment on my poetry and that makes me sad :(

Many a night I fall awake
Under the weight of this world.
Not until that world would quake
Had this scroll of dreams unfurled.
What is this poison, them or me?
What have I done for this pain?
So different, am I, for that I see
Will never grasp the rain.

Fear not, my love, so pure, my dear,
He cannot see, he cannot feel.

Break, Blow, Burn: Day Eight

Percy Bysshe Shelley - Ozymandias

One of the poems I clearly recalled by title alone, before even reading a word of it. It was intresting to hear Paglia note that the poet himself only has one line that is obstensibly in his own voice, the rest is information being relayed by the traveller, and then, ultimately, by Ozymandias's words.

I had never picked up on the slight nod to the early sculptor, who was able to ensure the megalomania of his pharoah was properly conveyed in the sculpture and, in fact, is the only thing that remains. I always focused on the bigger more obvious message of the ruler whose empty words have absolutely no weight and have become a warning sign to every ruler who believes in their own importance.

Break, Blow, Burn: Day Seven

William Wordsworth - The World Is Too Much With Us

Hmm, neither of today's Wordsworth entries really did all that much for me. In this entry, Wordsworth's isolation while looking out at the sea makes him question the society in which he lives, which is common enough. But I don't know ... nothing here really moved or intrigued me. His desire to live in a pre-Christian Britian, as Paglia deciphers, is something that should interest me, since I tend to be excited by something that questions organized religion in any way, but, it just didn't happen.

Some of the wordplay revealed by Paglia, such as "spending" being a term for ejaculation is informative, but I guess having not had much of a reaction to the poem already, it's too little too late.

Break, Blow, Burn: Day Six

William Blake - The Chimney Sweeper

I don't know what it is, but I've always been a sucker for this particular rhyming scheme, a simple AABB throughout. In the hands of Blake, though, it is interesting to contrast the lilt and playful way the words bounce out with what is being said, for this is a poem of young boys forced into endentured service, their small bodies able to get inside old chimneys and clear out the soot.

Paglia pointed out the narrator's lisp, which I missed, probably forgetting the time in which the poem is set and such a world where people would be out shouting about their work offerings. The doublespeak of his inability say sweep all the more tragic when his cries of weep tell society what their proper response to his condition ought to be.

Break, Blow, Burn: Day Five

Andrew Marvell - To His Coy Mistress

Nothing like a good "carpe diem" booty call. Obviously the carpe diem "seize the day" stuff is well-known to anyone who, like me, fell in love with Dead Poet's Society and the like, which heaviy leaned on the carpe diem notion.

In this poem, Marvell slowly builds his case for sex. At first, he reinforces how long he would, given an unlimited amount of time, spend discovering the intricacies of his mistress. But, he is quick to point out in the second part, time is limited. Their youth will wither, and death awaits.

Finally, having set his argument up like a finely-tuned legal debate, they should embrace the quick beat of life, the forgone conclusion of time, and consummate their relationship.

Aside from a brief hint of anti-Semitism, this is a lovely poem, on a theme that I've always embraced. There is only now. Tomorrow is not a guarantee, and eventually everyone hits a point of no more tomorrows.

Good stuff, and so nice to finally hit a one-poem day.

Break, Blow, Burn: Day Four

George Herbert: Church-monuments

This poem reminds me of the punk-rock band The Pixies. I was never a fan of theirs, but I was a huge fan of many bands that were huge fans of The Pixies. I listened to them, but never really got too into them. When they recently reunited, I went with some friends who were about to have a religious experience, seeing them perform these amazing songs live. I enjoyed it, but to me they sounded derivative.

As you might expect, the ardent Pixies fans were quick to point out that I had it backward. I was a fan of bands who had stolen from The Pixies, so I liked the derivative bands, the Pixies originated this stuff. I don't disagree with that statement, but I still think that whatever you hear later is going to seem derivative to what you heard earlier. So, to me, The Pixies will always sound like they're trying to be Nirvana, even though I've read quotes where Kurt said Nirvana was trying to sound like The Pixies.

So, how does George Herbert fit into all of this?

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