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we should celebratei.
i tried to think of pain as a flower,
first it blossoms

  and then

  it wilts away.

but i won't let myself disappear
along with it,

i won't
give you that.

(it's not the agony that makes
me scream, it's the flavor).

ii.
and you whispered softly
"i'll rip your heart out and replace it

with a song,

it's christmas soon, and
we should celebrate".

  you've always used my scars
  as a calendar,

  as a way to remind yourself

  "today is tuesday

  and i still exist".

iii.
(it's morning now because
i can see
the sunlight

through my eyelids

and imagine

tree, fiddler crabIt took days to hollow out the soft parts
of the trunk, dig out the tree-flesh and sap,
polish the raw wood so that when he sat,
there would be no splinters. He carved his name
into the side, like a blessing, a declaration
of good fortune, and stowed his forest inside.

earth circuitAnd when the sun sinks, the earth's skin crawls:

I.
I wonder if this awkward creature would notice me the way I notice him.
He's so tragic at his throne
I stare after him longingly.
And yet,
He never realizes that I'm the one
Who forever basks in his brilliant beams.
If only he knew how much brighter he could burn
[with me]
He'd light up the universe.

II.
I heard him speak of thirst, once.
The quenching lust of the stars had run dry.
So that night, I brought along a jar of acid.
(And how it gleamed in his glow).
I handed it to him, wrapped in taffeta ribbons,
screaming
I wish curdling joy
On my gurgling boy

Sharing Communion Amongst Creation -DFC Day 30I.
The sun stretches her caressing hands.
Balancing on the horizon, it seems.
Last rays of day scatter across the lands.

As through a glacier, the light gleams
Over meadows and memories past,
Dripping off cardinal's wings into azure streams.

Galloping alongside stallions unsurpassed,
Golden beams falling with prancing leaves
And slipping into cracks of canyons vast.

Shadow wraps around illumination like sleeves.
Billows as smoldering incense in sacred art.
The day has left, has hastened like ghosts and thieves.

Shade stands resolute and rampart.
Rapt with the veiled, vanquished moon.
Hidden in devious clouds, the waves devoid o

Whale Songs of the PacificListen, the girls swallowed by whales are the ones that grow up lucky.

Listen, no one will warn you about the little boys with the magpie eyes and the fists swinging splinters of glass. No one will warn you that their smiles are sweeter than their words are sweeter than their souls are sweeter than their intentions. No one will warn you of the sheer weight of the world.

Listen, sometimes girls are fragile. Sometimes girls are frothy. Sometimes girls let boys nuzzle "I love you"s into their necks and sometimes girls drink the wine of believing them.

Listen, sometimes the boys really are sweet, and little girls' tart puckered mouths can't ta

AntiquatedYour rose petal hips
Will always demur
To your ivory lace slip,
The stockings climbing
High on calves and thighs
Like a garden trellis
Near the blooming soul
Between your open legs,
The place where he
Could love you the most

starspunobserving the romanticism
of hooded cemetery kids,
smoking cigarettes pretending
they are not dead.

you were always so sure
about my uncertainty,
you watched
all my pick up lines
drop things.

we built the heat
of the evening from the solidity
of starlight,

pretended
that two teens at the park
at midnight
is the stuff of teen novels
(cliches dim on
our leaf-gold horizon)

your eyes darted
from the gray expanse
of the churchyard & wandered
in thoughtful
paths.

i wanted to ask you
if i could follow. shove
the words aside &
remember that i came here alone.

i remember our innocence
in the static b e t w e e n
stars

rootslike drowned men who have lost their
clothes and faces, they lay suspended
facing the sun and grinning without
eyes through the ripples of the water.

those passing by wonder how they got here,
these homeless men without fingers or toes
long spindly stumps twisting into lost roots:

reaching to the east, to the south,
to the homes they have forgotten.

Holiday TableauCrushed tinsel, sunken
spirits littering
the melancholy
atmosphere of the
holiday after-
glow - It does not shine.

Torn garland, empty
bottles strewn across
abandoned party
rooms, reminiscent
of the previous
night's festivities.

Colorful wrappings,
packaging tape, bags
stuffed with boxes and
tissue paper - trash.
Re-gifted rejects
left behind, thoughtless.

Filled coffee cups the
morning after - warmth
to replace fading
cheer. Resolutions
revised, for the fast
approaching new year.

the hungry look...the hungry look,

the wolves
weaving through
and around
the gully of your throat like wraiths,

we can feel you rusting, lost one;

i know that drainpipes and fenders
begin to crackle after winter wet

and that there’s a touch of snow
in all of us,

but no one,
no one could hold you as tightly as you do,
your whole body, bloodless in this arrest,

and if you will not let your fetters show
i will show you
there’s a place for going, and you haven’t gone there yet;

where quantum particles, once in contact, can retain a connection
even when separated

where you
wander up to a stranger
with your shirt inside-out
and say &lsq

sci-fi stories about the end of the world1.

the species invents prophecies
all of which contain terrors

ex;

a beleaguered sun collapses into itself

2.

It's not yet night when the committee interrupts the regularly scheduled programming
and describes the inertia as unforgivable.

Outside the grief, the cardboard:
Every time you teach a computer about distance
the terrorists win.

In every scenario: No colorado left,
and survivors leave messages
for the future.

Before the last people on Earth forgot how to speak,
he thought of that day.

The committee was right
to describe space as an absence.

3.

The more artistic
of the species' prophecies include fields

Some
prese

the eyepatch and the handcuffs     his hands have promised
     to wipe off every fingerprint
     your last lover left on you

     he has sworn he will
     wear gloves, when he needs to,
     and pay attention to the instructions on the boxes

     "this side up"
     and "fragile"

     and you have sworn
     you will try to let him

     i hear your bodies whispering these things to each ot

for unseeing eyesladen with sky
we stumbled
and painted mockingbirds
on loveless branches
folding in our slender limbs
and ducking under our own
voices, fidgety and frail
against the wall of night.

between the dipping blades
and drawn shoulders
we learned to craft our words
steady-soft,
a drumming rain
that carved canyons
in open hearts and
drew the sunshine to
our supping lips.

keen-eyed, we watched
remembering the weight
of unseeing eyes
and scalding remarks
and we learned to slip
the noose-knots and slide
through the soul-cracks
and somehow
build kingdoms under
upturned noses.

with lyrical uncertainty
and tender determinat

grassy field with rustgrassy field with rust
--------------------------

I'd heard about the old car, three miles out of town and all alone. I just had to see it. It was time. School was over for the summer, my friends were at camp, and I was bored. I set out Thursday morning for a hike, following directions that Uncle Will had given me. As the heat was still growing with the climb of the sun, I found the field and wandered around looking, and looking some more, trying not to be distracted by bees buzzing in the flowers, and butterflies and baby mice. Then it was there, just a bit upslope from the bottom of a natural swale, and just below the sky at th

WhitewashWhen you're five years old you set a promise in the dark, your sister's ice-queen eyes witness. Millie is sitting straight-backed against the headboard, face wide and earnest, and it seems as if the world has heaped itself on her shoulders, or maybe it's the strangeness of midnight.

"We can't make our wills or anything like that until we're eighteen," she says fiercely. "But I might forget this by then."

In later years you will find time to reflect that you're not as whimsical as Millie; young, you only think then that you could never forget something this important. But you can't argue with the three-years-older she holds above your head (

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"When I was little..." EntryWhen I was little, it was okay to walk to a friend's house
and play sixty-four bit games.
And little was associated with age and as I am still young
I was still little today.
Also, poetry was only poetry if it rhymed, in my eyes,
so I got stuck with the habit -
but, as I grew taller I made a failed attempt to venture out of it.
And when I was little the entire world was that much bigger,
so I hiked further to my friend's residence
than anyone who had ever cleared the Grand Canyon

But, of course, being little had its fair share of consequences.
I did not know how to free myself from the prison cell
containing me in introspection.

You as a variable for MeYou missed the cosine as a confused tangent,
like you were the line adjacent
to the angle relative in how I see it,
As you are a variable for me;
because I attempt to seek it,
yet you are the unknown relative secant.

I have no choice but to account for human error
because computers do not fail in arithmetic.
I merely hope you were wrong in theory,
because binary begins to represent you in spirit.
As I dream of equality in the third quandrant,
you are subtracted from the sum of your parts.

And for one theorem you disobeyed the proof
to abide by the postulate of identity,
stating if you can be I and I can be you,
than the sum o

Homestead Contentconundrums eat edelweiss
like i down the vice of man's creation
i would rather dawn a mask
than have an identity to face this
like the protagonist breathes blasphemy
as a form of recreation
having a handful of homestead content
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Radioactive Snowflakes

by ~maxusphinneas, Nov 8, 2012, 2:44:14 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Oh boy, boy, boy
For the last shall be,
and that arctic disposition will melt away in time
written on a hearth rug, read it and then
turn the dial back and tune into Goodbye FM

"Oh boy, boy, boy
Goldilocks should have been clad in HazMat,
bear in mind the Gouda enacts the rat trap"

For the last shall be,
when fractals free fall from the sky
thickening icycle eyes, cementing prisms with time
...and I
measured it all in half-life

Oh boy, boy boy
That arctic disposition will melt away in time
Until then, I hope you die from frostbite

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Radioactive Snowflakesby ~maxusphinneas

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Submitted on: November 8, 2012
File Size: 1.3 KB

Views: 2,680
Favourites: 137 (who?)
Comments: 18
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Given 2012-12-21

Radioactive Snowflakes by ~maxusphinneas ( Featured by ^Beccalicious )

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~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

Mood: Love

~hater12 Dec 21, 2012

oh my. i'm confused, an in love...?

Reply

Mood: Wow!

~Apocapus Dec 21, 2012

Bravo

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~Shadowxiao Dec 21, 2012

This is a fantastic piece. A well-deserved DD!

Reply

~VelvetFish Dec 21, 2012 Student Filmographer

i love it.

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~Spagettimoon Dec 21, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Love love love love looooovve

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~Karinta Dec 21, 2012 Student General Artist

I love the repetition, and the half rhyme. It's cyclic, yet free-form.

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~remnants-of-life Dec 21, 2012

This is amazing! I love how it's so abstract; it doesn't make any sense at first but then I begin to see things in it. I can see why it got a DD!

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~GoldenEarthAngel Dec 21, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

I have no idea what it's about, but the poem has lovely imagery.

Congrats for the DD.

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`lintu47 Dec 21, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

_{Congrats on the DD!
Have a nice day! : )}

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*glossolalias Dec 21, 2012

congratulations on the DD!

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