[x]

Earth and LoveWe left our laugh lines etched upon her face,
When we tumbled tangled in each other,
While sighs slipped from our lips with perfect grace;
Her tree boughs sheltered us like a mother.

There was sweeping cadence of windblown hair,
As the sun-drenched fields stretched out all around,
Frangipani scent laced the summer air,
And we moved forth without making a sound,

But for the murmur of our hearts beating
In perfect tandem with one another,
And the low hum of the good earth breathing,
Grateful for the passing steps of lovers,

We found God in the guise of the flowers,
And we made love in the warm sun showers.

Judge a Book by its CoverIts rather funny.

You ran into me on the street today
With my manicured nails and
My neatly curled hair

10 minutes after the longest finance meeting of my life.

And I could see you wondering
If I’ve actually changed or
If I’m still completely insane

Well, I hate to break it to you, baby, but the truth is

I’ve always dressed up nice,
And business suits and pedicures
Are unrelated to my behavior

In long term committed relationships and on Saturday nights.

CollisionJasmatbhai is driving
his van along Carrington road,

he is seventy eight,
he is on his way to help
run his family’s fruit market,
he is a follower
of Gandhi’s principles,
of peace and forgiveness,
he is driving his blue van

across an intersection
by the second gate
of the Unitec campus,
by the main gate
of a primary school

he brakes too late,
his van collides
with the BMW ahead,
causing dents, minor damage

the young owner
of the black BMW
cannot tolerate,
this thick-armed student,
this bodybuilder, this car lover
flies out his BMW
opens the van and pulls
the elderly pacifist out,
throws him across the

October RevolutionYou forgive but you don’t forget.

Leningrad, 8 PM from the
Bridge, bodies tumble into the

Swelling waters of the Niva.

Carycin, November 7
Whole families executed.

Warm bathwater brings sharp sting of
Electricity in the tub.

You forgive but you don’t forget,

The dogs braying the courtyard,
Forty below in the gulag.

“Your children will become orphans
Never even to see your graves”

You forgive but you don’t forget
Living through the end of days.

On Saying I Love YouI have both wounded and been injured by
The lacerating edges of the words;
So it is not lightly, lover, that I
Bring myself to utter ‘Love’ to be heard.

I have been both the sharp twist of the knife,
And, too, the target of the blade’s quick turn.
I have picked my way through those fields of strife
And I have set the peaceful vales to burn,

But now my heart’s bedecked in armored trust
And your soul is iron-clad in its faith,
I fear not the craven calling of lust,
Nor my past so full of demons and wraiths.

Darling now I lay my arms before you
And whisper the words I know now are true.

Fighting For PeaceOne day
I will grow up

And I will start
To be that girl

I want to be

And not that girl
I’ve always been.

I will start

Winning
More wars

Against my ego

And losing
Less battles

With my heart.

I will finally learn:

That not everyone
Can love you

All the time.

And some people
Just aren’t worth it.

One day
I will start to

Take it like a man
Even though I’m not.

I will learn
That they were right

When they said:

Fighting
For peace

Is like fucking
For virginity.

The First Poem I Ever WroteImagination

The wind who cries
So loud and clear
Yet whispers softly
Into my ear
Tells me of a place
Not far from here
Where I can go
To quench my fears.
Its not very big
Nor tall nor wide
But inside this place
There’s no reason to hide.
A warm summer mist
Lingers sweetly in the air
For inside this place
All is calm, all is fair.
This place beyond
Your wildest creation
Can only be found
In your imagination.

electrified blood.i`ve watched the monsters
violently claw at your self-esteem,
drown you in near-constant
faux affinity. i`ve heard them scream
life-threatening words that
haunt your every footstep, every
heartbeat, and you are starting to think

maybe they`re
right. maybe i`m not
worth holding on to.

.

sometimes your eyes
drown in tears. sometimes
your bones feel like
dust in the wind and
sometimes, i wish i could
catch electric fireflies
and shooting stars for you.

that way, we could
sneak them through the
cracks of your heart and
you`d always have
something to
light the way.

.

and instead of feeling like the
puzzle piece that doesn

GrayingI detest boys who
call me "babe" and tell me
I have to kiss frogs in order to
find my Prince.

Like it's never occurred to them
that I could possibly
want something less than
a fancy castle atop a hill.
Like it's never crossed their mind that
perhaps
Girls have dreams bigger than
marrying and birthing children.

I could be content
living in poverty amidst shambles and
rickety cottages
as long as I have my
pencil and easel at the ready.

I want to sketch the world
and paint new horizons,
edging dreams forward as I climb
higher in this spiral that is life.
One step and the year passes me,
I fall further into the gray zone.

I

Single 20-SomethingsYou walk through the world
With your eyes wide open
And your lips
Slightly parted—

Scenting the air
For someone who understands
Your own particular breed –

Of fragility
And damage.

We can see every detail
Of your suffering
At a glance—

Your eyes give you away.
You are a terrible liar.

Your far prettier now
Than you were at seventeen

But much more afraid
And alot more careful.

You walk through the world
With your hands on your hips
And your tongue
Tied in knots—

Waiting for
Someone to kiss you
And finally untangle—

The ribbons of your hopes
From the snarl of your fears.

You walk

Sociopathy and the ApocolypseSo, you say I’m a sociopath.

I say I’m just better equipped
To deal with the apocalypse
Should it happen to transpire
During my brief lifetime.

While your crying into your
Sour milk and non-perishables,
Waiting for someone like me
To stab you in the back

Or slit your throat in your sleep;

I’ll be plundering for survival
Raping and pillaging remorselessly:

If thats what it takes to get by.

On-off switch baby.
It will come in handy

The day society
Explodes.

Dull and PainlessMy lover made of me a mandolin
              Strung with silken strings
              That snapped:
              Everytime he played me.

My lover was a honey-hive
              Haremed by summer bees
              That stung:

And Then The Black HoleWe were going back over the code:

The digital
dysplacia
that schyzmed

Out of control
and left us
spinning off

Left of center.

Left with

little more than the smell of plastic and tar and burnt sugar and bodily fluids

And the fact that your eyes were like lasers
and the fact that my thighs were rocket propelled
and the fact that our smiles could trick the milky way
into meltdown

Didn’t seem to come up once.

Inhaling without Smokinglike, umbrellas without
rain, we are disconnected
telephones

and unused concert tickets.

i'm sad, kind of
thinking sometimes, about
you &

how perfect we can never try to be.

no-one
could break my heart as well
as you could. & you have
the

perfect height for heart-breaking.

late at night, imperfect
propositions are
spelt with

crude consonants. sometimes
i think it will never end. their attentions
mean nothing next to you.

because i love your laughter and I hate your
shirts and because we have
nothing but conversations
about other people's
romance.

Because being with you is
like inhaling without
smoking,

it is l

Sepia.We'll climb up strangers' oak trees and hide
out on roof tops, watching the lights turn on,
one by one. We'll pretend that we're still ten
and the world that we know is small and
unchanging. Maybe we'll try our tongues at
scary words too big for our childish mouths.
words that don't have meaning for us yet,
that don't belong anywhere outside of the
pages of my mother's old dictionary.

We didn't know each other as children, but
looking back, we both have the same sepia
memories, the same sun burnt taste of a
childhood lost to hospital rooms and parents
who closed their eyes. Sometimes I wonder
if fireworks will always be little

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More from ~UltimateOutlaw

Preach NotI can’t help but dislike you because you are cold like a statue made of marble and fear, rigid and immovable;

[in your faith]

But I am like a small bird with hollow bones and a rapidity of heartbeat coasting light-hearted along the trade-winds;

[I call belief]

They let my wings carry me above and beyond the simplicity of your

[personified]

God

Epitaphs and HieroglyphsIn my
Dreams there is a
Man who writes epitaphs
In dead languages and speaks in
Foreign sounding tongues and
His words are a
Warning
To me
That I am marked
“I see you” he scrawls in
Hieroglyphs across my walls and
Windows, which I now keep
Shut tight against
His eyes.

Love- Cut And QuarteredI want all your letters to be fables— fairytales cut and quartered.

[A
Love
Story]

I can splash all over the pavement— and leave melting with the dirty snow.

SirenThere was
A love made of
Sharp bits of glass and shell
Laced on ribbons and seaweed chains
This love was born of the
Seashore and the
Silt of
Past lives
Tumbled stones and
Invertebrate mussels
Mermaids heralded its birth with
Forgotten Spanish gold
And sea horses
Carried
Starfish
To its cradle
Bathed it in salt water
And chose to give a name, which
Sailors will call-- Siren.

Their ships will sink
For this.

Fossilized  I
    Hibernate
In the cool of your skin.

I am a leaf
That is
           Caught
On the autumn wind.

A bone fragment
      Ensconced
In the glacial drift.

I am fossilized
By that
Look
In your eyes.

A shark’s tooth
      Washed ashore;

Somewhere on

A
    Lonely
            Island

A small boy
Picks me up

Drills a
       Hole
And loops a

A Blank CanvasMy heart is a
Blank canvas
Waiting for the brush
In your skilled hands;

An unplanted field
In autumn
Yearning for your
Seed and plow;

The clay as yet
Unmolded
Needing the cup
Of your fingers;
The spin
Of your wheel;

A poem just
On the tip
Of the tongue
Hoping your words
Will emerge
To make it sing.

My heart was once

A family portrait;
A field of poppies;
A Grecian urn;
A sonnet verse;

But now;

It waits for you.

A blank canvas.

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Name Calling

by ~UltimateOutlaw, Jun 30, 2009, 4:49:35 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Galloping roundabout down the mountain,
Bareback on that stallion you would give
No name because to name something is to
Own it and you never believed in possessions;

But lover, listen, once you called me your
Sun and moon and the ripples in your river.
You gave me many names and when you
Left you couldn’t just take them away.

You were more cut-throat than I’d imagined;

But listen, gunslinger, I'm not dead yet.

Name Callingby ~UltimateOutlaw

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

bitching and moaning.

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

`thetaoofchaos Jul 8, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

now it's on! love that last line.

~Underground-Rogue Jul 5, 2009 Student Writer

Very western-style. Loved the sentiment behind it, loved the words you used to express it. Really awesome piece^^

!MistakenMagic Jul 3, 2009

Loved the second stanza especially. And hell poetry is the best way to bitch because generally you get away with more when it's articulate and '

oetic' lol Great job!

Erin xxx

*ZexyPineCones Jul 2, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

I like the way you bitch and moan.

~etre-aime Jul 2, 2009

Bareback on that stallion you would give
No name because to name something is to
Own it and you never believed in possessions;

i really enjoyed this all.