This blog is a dedicated space for poets of all kinds. Our aim is to share the work of those hidden in the writing community and of course some from our favourites. We try to find new talent, as all of the staff members have different, diverse taste. Thank you for visiting -- Let the inspiration flow.
We track the "poetry" "prose" "spilled ink" and "creative writing" tags.
This is our goodbye,
I promise, I’ll try not to cry.
There’s nothing left to reach out for,
there is nothing any more…
that the two of us can do.
I’m just hoping everything
you said could somehow be true.
One more step, and my heart is breaking.
Love, is sometimes, just an act of forsaking.
Of attempting to still hands that are uncontrollably shaking.
My heart pumps battery acid,
I use my eyes like an x-ray.
I utilise numbers and calculators,
to analyse every word you say.
I’m just artificial anatomy,
all chemicals and alchemy.
Wires for veins,
and micro-chips for brains.
There used to be something more,
a ghost within the machine.
flickering hopes, and a fluttering dream.
.
.
.
.
It has been erased.
Deleted.
Wiped clean.
(via mobbleberry)
32 Paint me happy,
conduct me into an
orchestra of content.
Sculpt me a smile,
and write me a verse
of paradise.
38 I lay down my head
upon the keys.
The tears from my eyes
hit the ivory with force.
They soak the wood,
running down deep within.
Around my head
the piano begins to play.
A soft tune at first -
the sad melody of my life.
It turns into a loud,
and stormy piece.
The keys banging down,
by an invisible hand.
Such force and power -
the depressing song surrounds me.
And when my last tear falls
the last chord sounds.
6 Brew me a concoction
of splendour.
Mix vials of electric blue,
with bubbling violet.
Let it fizzle and foam
over the rim of beakers.
Spark and conduct -
as chemicals break apart
from their atomic homes
and make new ones.
Marble the millions of
molecules of me.
Break me apart…
and combine it with you.
What an amazing assortment
we would be.
Mottled and marvellous.
Jazzy’s Note: Love it!
33 I wish I could speak a language,
one in which you didn’t exist.
Then I wouldn’t feel like a metallic kitchen
on a winter morning:
a blue tabletop, one abandoned jar of cold milk,
the dew on the windows and
white oblong tiles with a star in the middle.
Clean. And barren.
I wouldn’t feel like that.
And when I hear footsteps
I wouldn’t think it’s you
And when someone touches me on the back
I wouldn’t turn around and expect it to be you
And perhaps when I wake up suddenly
it wouldn’t be with your name on my lips.
If you didn’t exist,
I wouldn’t be like that thick glass, do you remember it,
the one on the window above the front door?
Still intact but with tremors of cracks embroidering it.
I wouldn’t be just like that.
I wish I lived a life
drawn in charcoal
Then how easily I could have reached out
and erased you from it.
Jazzy’s note: Beautiful and heartbreaking.
16 I cling
to your
collarbones
and nestle
my nose
in behind
your ear.
Breathe
deep.
Jazzy’s note: Sigh
14 cacophony
beat my eardrum violently
words you spew shroud clear judgement
rape the inner conscience
cacophony
shut the fuck up
I am begging
Jazzy’s note: Different, and original.
(via sublimerocketship-deactivated20)
30 plane-watching at the balcony
I count the metal birds
they pass by so swiftly
leaving only contrails blurred.piercing through feathers and cottons
I mutter to myself
“one day, young man, one day”
you’ll go places to find yourselfas the sound of jet engines arrive
the delay leaves me cold
“one day, we’ll meet, my man”
our stories will unfold
Jazzy’s note: I heart him! This filled me with nostalgia.
11 Give me a cigarette,
So I can smoke away the memories of you.
Give me some whiskey to shoot,
So the burning of it will distract me,
From the tears that fall down my face.
And take this mirror from me,
So I will stop staring into it.
As if you would come through it,
Falling into my arms like you did once before.
Before I stumble back to you,
With whiskey filled breath,
Begging for you back.
Jazzy’s note: I like the rawness, the openness.
(via dreamdecember-deactivated201207)
4 There are times I wish
to brush my lips against
yours and murmur words
of the sweetest of loves…
and times like these
where I wish to take
your mouth with brutal
touch of lips and teeth…
There are times I want
to let our rhythms slowly
match, and lose myself
between your pale thighs…
and times like this when
I want to throw you around
my bed like a rag doll,
take you fast and hard…
There are times of grace
and times of wanton need…
times to touch your heart,
and others to make you moan…
Tonight I want to bite and
bruise and scratch and carve
my lust upon your soul in the
black and blue ink of sensuality…
I want to drink your lust, and
devour your shivering body
and when the morning comes,
then, My love, I’ll hold you still.
Jazzy’s note: I love this — can I be her?
49 I find beauty in words.
How they can be spun
just so, and dance graciously
until they find the right place
to fill pages
and create stories
no one has ever dared to dream.
I find beauty in your arms.
Gentle and strong
they hold
the weight of the world
and me, too
and yet somehow
they don’t c o l l a p s e from the
pressure.
I find beauty in nature,
how the rain
refreshes the earth
and creates life.
The leaves always know
when to turn the perfect shade of
burnt red, warm orange, or singed
with brown.I find beauty in music,
clashing harmonies
all supported with one
liquid harmony
barely holding on,
a conversation between
notes and rhythms
telling truths you can’t
admit yourself.I find beauty in laughter
how o n e
simple action can
change a day
maybe even a year,
starting from the tips
of your toes
and escaping likes pearls
from your pink lips.
But I wish I could find beauty in myself
Jazzy’s note: so moving and beautifully written.
145 I do my best to give you words
you haven’t read before;
I share my life with all its hurts
Till I can give no more.
And not that I should hope to be
the greatest that you’ve known,
with all my heart I hope you see
The depth of love I’ve shown.
For in my words my soul is poured
and you will never find,
A story like the one that’s stored
within this heart of mine.
Jazzy’s note: *swoon*
97 