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The Harvest MoonThe lunar eclipse, the harvest moon
Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing
A vast balloon,
Till it takes off and sinks upward
To lie in the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon
The Harvest moon has come,
Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon
And earth replies all night, like a deep drum.
So people can't sleep,
so they go out where elms and oak trees keep
A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush
The harvest moon has come!
And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep
Stare up at her petrified, while she swells
Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing
Closer and closer like the end of the world
till the gold fields of sti
Atoning with BloodI look down
At my horrid skin
And close my eyes
As the past sets in
The scars once cuts
To take the pain away
Now the cause
That's there to stay
I remember the blood
How bright it shone
And for all the deeds
I had to atone
The marks still burn
So again I look at my leg
And for scars to disappear
I silently beg
July 27, 2012
Summer Breezethe sun arises too initial,
throbbing like a sore headache
with heat to laud summer official
leaving us beneath its wake
thus, like water we are flowing
in and out of midnight hours
with only slivers o'er us, glowing,
vivifying like rain showers
you are the movement, I the air
upon which our comfort rides
in cycle - which is only fair -
growing, falling, like the the tides
old flames will have due chance to burn
until the winter gets its turn.
from your lips
like a muted song -
one lone melody
and trill along
your cheekbones -
an inhale of
(my weary fossil love, my sin)
an exhale of thin-fingered
but no note
to carry on
SmallSometimes, embarrassing things happen to you. Things that people laugh at. They brush it off carelessly, not even checking to see if you're okay.
You're so small, no one would even know you were serious if you said you weren't okay.
Remember when we went to the movie theater to see the Avengers?
"One ticket for the Avengers," you said, handing the man with glasses and a greasy ponytail your money.
He said, "You need an adult with you if you're under eleven."
It was quick, but I think I saw your mood falter. You frowned, our friends laughed, and then you got over it.
"Yeah, I'm nine," you joked.
If there's one thing in particular I admi
Replies of wide eyes
And finger to lips
Hands beckoning me to follow.
Silence is golden,
But the rays of the full moon
Creeping forward with stealth,
And pulling the blanket of leaves back
Reveals what made my heart clench.
Suspicions made true,
My mind's not deceived.
In the most tender of ways,
The sweetest smile
Visibly glows in the dark.
And across from that smile is another,
With train tracks
Running through it.
The smiles meet.
My heart chokes.
My palms sweat.
My eyes flutter open.
I wish on the stars above me
That I could call it a dream.
Inside OutA warm summer
in prison, late morning
orange on gray.
A forest held behind
leans in, ready to hear
the whispers of
guards and their keys.
Smuggled by the wind
is one low whistle,
the kind of destruction only i deserve.i'm sitting on a throne of thread spools
with technicolor knots wound around my wrists,
and i thought it would be enough to hold me together.
i am weak - thread-lines etched into my skin
because i always tie myself too tight,
convinced that if i add an inch,
i'll melt between cotton molecules, liquefied.
and i figured that i'd finally gotten it right;
between the bulges of my skin and bindings,
i'd managed to shut myself up, and shut you out.
i even installed double-paned glass into every window
so that if the wind ever came to welcome me home,
i wouldn't have to chatter my teeth,
like I was pretending to converse.
it wasn't en
how to become treasurei. figureheading
my uncovered eyes
the possibility prime
as the sea's shine
sing me the designs
of isolated isles
for I plan
with a smile
ii. the expectant sextant
made to behold
and be held
I measured the distance
between where I was
and where you dwelled
when last the stars
the current seems
have I dexterity enough
for the course I plotted?
I caught wind
to previous havens
my ears caught the tune
of the sirens in bloom
and my tongue
cursed my stasis
iv. a love of ankles
in a foreign body
my lungs must drink
either wayshe dances like a raindrop,
collapses on the ground,
and all of her bones shatter,
made from thin, liquid glass,
her voice ripples on the surface
and it screams
the soft syllables pirouetting on your eardrums
her fingertips tapping
can you hear them?
they are cotton balls
being dropped on the asphalt
can you hear them?
(it's the wind carrying her feet across the air)
and she dances like a raindrop.
you can catch her
and she can shatter in your palms.
numbering the steps.I'd like to count the number of times you fucked me over, but I only have ten fingers and toes.
I never mentioned this but I really should have.
Because it was so hard that you were blowing me off, especially after the third/fourth/fifth/fourteenth time.
Or in September, when your eyes could look everywhere but mine when I finally stopped telling you, because I knew you weren't listening.
Oh, and you killing yourself last April. There's that.
(Your note said: "Tell Scarlett I'm sorry." And oh God, Charlie, please believe me, I tried so hard to make it right, I did.)
Fourteen days, two hours, and fifty-nine minutes: how long
POP! goes the Bubble .I'm twirling in ecstasy, feeling high on life,
almost as if my fingertips are caressing the sky;
I'm living in a bubble, think the air around is cursed,
so please don't rush in heart-first like a fool
and make it burst.
Sapphire CastlesLavished in celestial streams of rich azure,
her voice weaves thru star-systems with song
Depthless eyes fabled in mystery furnish worlds,
as conquests of time fold into silence...
She is the mystique of the cosmos 'elixir immortale,
embalming the wilderness of dreams
O'er a thousand skies captive in the fever of her ocean;
my breath anchors, where a life-time of souls drown
in brushed whispers of candle flame
Kingdoms of passion unveil in ethereal tides,
as the sun traces her finger tips over my skin
Burning in Pleiadian mythology I reach into vistas
of indigo towards the lips of a Goddess
Unto sapphire castles I s
What I Don't Want to AdmitHe lays down to bed with another woman,
he probably puts his arm around her
and tells her he loves her too,
Now how can he do all that
when I feel the way I do
It does not make sense
and my entire body aches with sadness,
then the emptiness settles in, right as it does,
and I'm left wondering if he knows
that what he is doing is killing me,
And it is killing me,
running its hands all over my sensitive skin,
and I cannot take it,
I cannot take the way he looks at me, the way he looks at her
and I cannot take another second of this lackluster kind of longing,
because I bleed as I breathe
and I break as I love,
To love like a rocking horse You are the highlight to my lonely night. You rush my mind like young currents rising onto the shore. I have no feeling in my fingertips and the air is thick and heavy and almost sweet. But these past few months have given breath to the void that lives in all of the empty places; space between ribs, backs of knees, and collarbone indentations. Oh, if only your body could bridge the gaps.
You know, I am sick of writing about you, nauseous actually. I don't want to smoke your pipe only to get high off loneliness anymore. The way I have ached for you, the way I have pined, is effervescent. Do I want you only because you are not mine?
No, I re
Alcohol and EmptinessIt's Wednesday night (I think)
and I've had too much to drink,
I feel like talking too much,
maybe saying things I shouldn't,
and it's sad because all of those things
the way you are,
and the ways in which I wish we could be,
you've completely emptied my veins of blood and
you are the alcohol I should never have let in,
but now I can no longer
let you go.
Need.There's this hunger that haunts me,
I picture your lips on mine in a cold, dark cave,
but we are hot as we burn each other,
your fingertips run races up and down my spine,
your hands grip me like you can't let go,
and I feel as though melodies and sonnets have been
etched onto our skin because as we touch
music bleeds from our bodies
and poems escape our bones,
and they are sweet and lovely and sorrowful,
for as you press against me
my breathing breaks into breathless,
now I feel sick and nauseated to my core
because when we part you take pieces of me with you,
only to leave me empty and tempted.
Gnawing Feelings that Live in my GutYou know what's not fair? The fact that I love you. I think I have loved you since I first saw you when your eyes lit up all blue, green, and grey. I knew in that moment you were going to be special to me. I knew it then and I know it now. I can't even begin to describe the way you move me. When your skin sparks against mine, I swear we are electric. I wish you were never further from me than arms length, because being close to you sends me through the roof. I have never felt this with anyone else before and my entire being shudders into the beyond whenever you lean into me. I honestly don't understand why I can't have you next to me every se
The Confectioner's DaughterHer tongue tastes of eucalyptus
and it hides behind gingerbread lips,
she's sure a sugary one
with a golden honey heart
and raspberry bones,
she's even got lollipops and gumdrops tattooed upon her low hanging hips,
sometimes though being too sweet has it's downside,
there are certain people who will take advantage of her
by sinking their teeth into her granulated skin;
bleeding her dry of her nectar
and leaving puncture wounds in her tender, transparent neck,
truly no one should ever get too close
because the more she loves, the faster she dies,
then the faster her sweetness collapses inward and
crushes her red licorice whip l
the space between cold and ice,
sweat is raining down your telephone pole neck,
now it's even hotter, pushing 90,
the air is thick and begins to clog your lungs,
dragging September's fog through your trachea,
smoldering your larynx and taking control of your entire body,
burning down bones like candle wicks,
now you're a waxen pool on the bedroom floor,
but wait, tender hands start to take a hold of you,
molding you a new spine made of incense,
hips out of honey,
and a heart out of the horizon,
beating, burning slow,
you release a floral smoke,
drawn in, between the candlemaker's cigarette licked lips.
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More