[x]

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;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.

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.

Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for?
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude

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...

False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen

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.

False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along

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.)

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.

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

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.

Watercolor PainWhen you smile,
I turn colorblind.

It turns into a somersault
whenever I gain contact
with your skin,
bare back touching
bare back.

But I'm not hungry
for bedposts.

I just want to
savor each moment your arms
lock into mine,
the romanticism of
the moons in my eyes
and the skies in your words.

There's smoke
behind all those hues
of hazel and your fingers
are porcelain,
but I still love you.

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 499 bytes more ▶

More from ~007-FleetingPassions

23.07.11two o'clock on a sunday: trains whizzing by. small towns aren't small towns anymore, just suburbs. no need to move to the city when it comes to you. it ought to be a megalopolis by now but somehow the definition always seems to slide away just as the population roars up. definitions are relative: things we privately fear are horizon lines, unreachable goals made as children made burdens by age. "老人和小朋友先上车。。。" if you aren't young or old, you're both, or an idiot. the line thickens and trails off: ticket ch

24.06.11i'll take your violence and the ecstacy

oh, and a side of opium to rub in the wounds
of settlements several hundred years old.

i'll live without poppyseeds on my bagel:
open sesame
trade has never been so strong
since the fleeing
of a second
british guest uninvited.

so take my gun and paring knife --
i like the butcher better
in china blue

but i expect the walls red.

14.06.11it's the sense of surety
that concerns me.

you might want to look into it.

12.06.11maybe you'd love me
if you didn't already
like me like you do.

10.06.11Depression is only as inspiring as you make it. She'd never been good at finding inspiration. It either came to her or it didn't and it usually avoided inspirational places. You can't blame a muse for hating the ocean any more than you can blame the bitch for becoming jaded. Besides, blame isn't exactly conducive to art either.

Lacking any embrace of divine craft or mortal man, she shops for corsets from the safety of an internet connection. She wonders if her mother was right. Autistic children like to be squeezed. It would be a nice excuse but she doesn't need it. The excuses fill libraries and she doesn't want a single damn one. Life

View Gallery · View Prints

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

Submitted: May 19, 2009
File Size: 499 bytes

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 11
Favourites: 2 [who?]
Views: 86 (0 today)
Downloads: 3 (0 today)

[x]

19.05.09

by ~007-FleetingPassions, May 19, 2009, 8:48:00 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

i don't need you.

i don't need your words
or your touch.
i don't need your lips
on my skin
or your hands
on my hips.

i don't need your arms
to fall asleep in.
i don't need your body
to keep me warm.

i don't need you
to love me

but i want you to.

19.05.09by ~007-FleetingPassions

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

no one needs as much as they want.

*IAmPoetry May 21, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

This is so sweet. What a nice little read.

~007-FleetingPassions May 21, 2009

thank you!

`YouInventedMe May 19, 2009 Writer

"you can't always get what you want
but if you try sometimes
you might find
you get what you need

oh yeah, hey hey hey, oh..."

~007-FleetingPassions May 19, 2009

I enjoy the musical interlude...

~emergencyward May 19, 2009

Or at least our needs tend to be gratified faster than our wants, so maybe they just never reach their full potential.

~007-FleetingPassions May 19, 2009

perhaps.

~Rosaliebyrd13 May 19, 2009

so true. this is AWESOME!

~007-FleetingPassions May 19, 2009

thank you.

~Rosaliebyrd13 May 19, 2009

the page wont let me favorite this

~007-FleetingPassions May 19, 2009

aww! well thank you for sharing your sentiments in spite of the page's lack of cooperation!

More from ~007-FleetingPassions

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

19.05.09

19.05.09by ~007-FleetingPassions

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style