|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
LightThere's a light
Blinding,bright beautiful light
And it burns
A desire to hold,to touch
All that you are,all that you will be
I want to capture it
Blinding, beautiful light
UntitledWhat was once like a butterfly
Free and full of hope
Now colors muted. A dirty grey
Is just a broken winged bird
In a cage. No escape
From the confines of humanity's cynicism and self loathing
They fed you. Bled you
You are nothing more than an outline of the past
Of the butterfly I knew
Bring back the girl with hope on her lips
Because in times like these
Where dreams are rare
And freedom rides the backs of butterflies
I need her. The girl who carries hope on her tongue
FearShivers down my spine
a clenching in my gut
beats of my heart gaining speed
the fear sets in
getting comfortable, like my soul is it's home
life is unpredictable
and I don't have infinite time
to share, to bask
in the love, the pain and all the inbetween
but I want to....I want that
things change so quickly
days passing, go unnoticed
and the years soon follow suit
then my mind stops.heavy lids close
fear nestled deep
waiting for the next night to come
there is a sadnessthere is a sadness
that cannot be filled by words alone
a longing ,pictures cannot console
fingertips brushing against bones
trailing to lips and eyes
reflecting innermost desires
Solacewhere is my solace?
where is my comfort, my hand to hold?
when things are said and done
why am I alone?
EndureI will endure
words brandished like weapons
shot down, my voice
a conversation piece
the same assault, without cause
there is no change
like a recording the words remain
constant and hurtful
but I will forever endure
there is no love like that of family
and no pain can compare
Priestplaying my heart like the strings on a guitar
secret whispers, my head becomes your confessional
but I am no priest
I cannot save you
I cannot provide validation,justification for your bad life choices
I will be your shoulder to cry on
should the need arise
but I refuse to be buried and burdened by your mistakes
you say you want the advice of a good friend
when all you want is an empty canvas to scrawl out your regret
go on believing you can do no wrong
blame the world for your lack of effort
my heart is no journal for you too write in, with no opinion to voice back
my words were valuable
you made your choice and I can't save you
I'm not sure you can even save yourself
StainOverwhelmed by pain
like waking from a nightmare
only to find it was real
In control again
but weighed down by guilt
you can't change it
why are you holding on?
what's done is done
let go ?..but I can't
I don't know why, I don't
I want to be me still
but... but ...I want to wash the stain away
it won't come out
why? why won't it come out?
I don't want this anymore
some one, any one save me please
I don't know how to save myself
just cure me
make her go away
protect me from her,protect them from me
I don't want it any more
I don't often make senselives torn asunder
all in the name of unseen gods
it is not in my nature to care, nor judge based on such trivial things
if I were to despise a man, if I were to do that
it would be because they use religion as their own personal breeding ground for hate
let go of words written in a century long gone
stand with fellow humans
protect the right to love
no more ignorance, intolerance escaping your lips
if this god exists
if they don't exist
the truth remains the same
we have one life, just one
why waste what could be a beautiful life well spent
caught up in anger
just be human, make mistakes
accept the mistakes of others
regardless of belief or lack there of
stand up, be human, experience life
life in the present, all it has to offer
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
Unable to loveMy love was pure
I only wanted
But my heart
Because my love
Like a piece of garbage
And now I'm unable
Because the shreds
Of my shattered soul
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
MathematicsI am but the sum of my
F L A W S;
a network of
S C A R S
a disaster of
D R E A M S
a shield of
B O N E S
C A L C U L A T I O N
a void of
to the girl i lose my words aroundi have been meaning to tell you for years:
i think you’re beautiful. i have
seen nothing on earth that holds a candle
to the ocean you carry inside your body.
it spills over your edges sometimes, like
a rain shower around you, blurring your penciled-in
lines until there is nothing left of you but your natural
cliffs, valleys, and deserts.
i like that.
i have never met someone who is, somehow,
a sea and a storm at the same time.
maybe i never will again.
maybe you are the only one
who gathers clouds on her forehead
like a promise, or feels the push and pull of the tide
with her every step.
you are beautiful, honestly.
you are honest, beautifully.
it is in the way you talk, the way you hold ice
on your tongue but forget to use it—
you always forget to use it, i don’t think
you know how.
to be truthful, i’m afraid of your smile
and how it breaks over me, how it pulls
me like a whirlpool down, how it pushes me
like a current back to the surface. i’m afraid of
the certainty of imminencei.
tomorrow spills over
inevitability-rapt and enveloping,
as wakefulness startles,
i'm caught up in past-time
i forge(t) myself in oblivion
midnight so hollow,
we all stop
with the clocks.
nothing looks the way it did
and i guess it seems
i'm blinkered, brevity-bound
in century footsteps forever stumbling,
always being blindsided
by the passing
Abuse Is Sometimes NecessaryPush and pull at her long hair, topple her to the solid ground,
elbow her sharply in the raw gut, shove her harshly around.
Scratch him in the pale face, punch him in the broken jaw,
do anything necessary to him that's considered breaking the law.
And when she cries because you've punched her, let her be,
and observe her when she returns to her habitual smoking.
When she passes out next day, because she's drunken too much booze,
slap her in the face once more, though many would consider it abuse.
When he can hardly walk because he thinks he's high in the clouds,
rip the needle out of his arm, and with your nails, slash him across the sweaty brow.
Grab them and shake them till their battered and bruised,
tear at their heart, scream in their ears until you've reached the point of verbal abuse.
And when she falls into your chest, and he collapses to the ground,
pull them closely, and whisper, “We can turn this all around.”
And rehab is a necessity for all of you, because you'v
Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)
I hope the title caught your eye,
because this is about you.
Many of us speak in superlatives
and ambiguous language.
In imagery-laden text masquerading
underneath double entendres
keeping us from a part of the truth.
But purple streaks and red bands,
harp strings and soft hands
don't begin to explain
the love I have for you.
So I lay these words down
simple in its vulnerability,
blemished and raw in its purity.
The term lissome fits you in many ways,
but not necessarily it its textbook form.
I speak on the part that is not readily seen
but what is easily most cogent.
Your consciousness' cognizance
is graceful in the way
you fold one syllable over
another, supple in its meaning
that can take many forms
going from idle lies
to how we idolize hollow eyes
and uncovered hip bones.
Elegance is an understatement,
but I refuse to speak in cliche superlatives.
I speak honestly
but not with exaggerated grandeur.
Because your immediate app
Self AwareLying in wait
jilted, by a fictional betrayal
a smile flickering across your face
unaware of the wound, the scars
that have surfaced
you pulled the trigger
without even knowing ,there was a gun in your hands
I lie in wait
needing to transfer the pain
pass along the disease
as if hurting an innocent
would magically erase the pain,the torment
that has formed and engrained itself in my bones
in my head you are not the others
but their face's flood my vision
memories tearing a hole in what should be a happy moment
your face falls as I speak
attacked viciously without cause
confusion and hurt spreads
I'm left alone
no relief from anger
and then the guilt comes
but I did it anyway
knew the outcome
saw the future
because it's the past
stuck as the world moves swiftly on
unable or unwilling to let go
comfortable in my own sickness
in my cage
if you need help making it through the dayremember:
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
Keep in Touch!