[x]

City of LightYou are my city.

Your eyes are the gates,
Your soul is my transport
Your veins the roads I must travel.

You should never ever be afraid
of my knowing you too well.
Or of my being too close to you.

 After all,
 Can you ever,
Even after living your whole life in it, 
Know a city too well?

GluttonHis caramel covered fingers caress my coffee skin
An epiphany aged in its own beautiful winery,  
A honeyed breath drawn in a moment so heated,
Its oven like intensity roasting any kind of chastity.  

Irreverently juicy, pleasingly sinful,
Succulently divine in its every form
Lovemaking at its most beautiful…
Moans that echo sheer gluttony.

I never knew passion was edible,
nor lust so delicious in its impassioned call 
Until he showed me why chocolate
is the most deadly sin of them all.

Bones"There are good days and there are bad days," you would say to me as you would try and explain away why the whiskey bottle was empty again this morning, why you smelled like her and why you thought it was best to let me know what you had done. At least that way, you were absolved of the gift of lying; the one your bones were too light to lift and just couldn't take, by bestowing me with betrayal.

My mother would bring me an encouraging cup of tea in a giant pink mug instead of a cup and explain, "There are good days and there are bad days." Her eyes were always full of positive energy and strength and good will. I look back to those days and

Body Speak, Mouth Don't."I need a favour. You got a minute?"

No. No I don't.
My heart feels ripped out of my chest and trampled on too often.
My ears open to screams in the morning.
My eyes close crying every night.
My mind always turns dreams into nightmares.
My lungs contract too soon for me to catch my breath.
My worries far outweigh my years.
My brain feels overworked, overwrought, so tired.
My stomach cramps every night and I curl up in pain.
My knees weaken often but I'm still standing.
My mouth goes dry and I can't speak.
My hands dampen because I have too much to think about.
My bones feel weaker than they ever have before.

But I don't think it

This is a SongThis is a song for the lost, the broken and the damned,

This is a song for the hopeless, the outgunned and the outmanned.

This is one for the sinners, and the non-believers too,

This is a song for all those people, people just like YOU!

This is the anthem of the normal, the oppressed and the abused,

This is a song for those people hidden from everybody's views.

This is the prayer of the unwanted, the unneeded and the small,

This is one for the unheeded, so let's give it our all!

This is a song for the people, who always just want to cry,

This is the anthem for those who have once wanted to die!

This is a song for all the people, tha

Colours I Never TastedIt is not worth escaping over.
No, sometimes the sun rises lopsided in the horizon and the
clink of glasses against teeth sets irate neurones off in your mind cavity
and fireflies extinguish on car windscreens in rain storms. Sometimes
August drops down into lake reflections and sometimes October never
sends a breeze to whisper into your ears. But they teach you that all of
that is okay, even when you're watching sunflowers writhe towards the
sun with grey blankets over humid-day hair.
There will always be a dawn. Stay awake for it.

You are not truly living until you have breathed.
And by that, I mean, take two feet and place them o

LustHis hands have a habit of finding my hip bones,
trailing his river like fingers along my stone smooth skin,
his lips do not move, his mouth tells me stories.

Mine spend their time
tracing the length and breadth
of his back in kisses*

We travel through lands that never existed
before we touched them
At temperatures far exceeding in Fahrenheit

If only we could understand
how lust and geography
make such divinely sinful bedmates.

____________________
* One hundred and sixteen

UndeservedI don't deserve to be an artist.
 I don't know how to hold deep meaningful conversations with strangers.
 I don't lament at night about a lover I have lost. 
I don't watch the white smoke ebb into darkness.
 I don't spend lonely nights admiring the true beauty of the world.
 I don't sleep restlessly from the truth of suffering within this world. 
I don't lie through my smiles or struggle to create them.

But I do think I am a writer.
 I am completely, irreparably damaged.
 I cry all night over old words and emotional baggage.
 I weep over my lost innocence. 
I spend nights

After Words"I wish you would give it back to me."

"Why? You'll just break it again."

"It's my heart. I will do whatever the hell I want with it."

"Yeah? Well, you take terrible care of things that are yours."

"Fine. Keep it. I am equal parts concrete and soul anyway."

"You say that, but I'm not entirely sure that you are. I think you're deep, and fragile and broken, and that makes you beautiful."

"Again, concrete and soul. "

"I wish you wouldn't make this so hard."

"So hard? I'm making this easy. You gave me dreams of half feathered swans and a stupid house on an endless beach and a city made of an ocean, and now you're taking it all away. But a

Grow UpWhen I was young,
I knew a girl.
She was so warm and bright,
so I asked her that question
that all children must answer.

'What do you want to be
when you grow up?'

Her eyes lit up with joy
and she jumped with excitement.

'A dancer!
No, an astronaut!
Wait, President!
A scientist!
I'll be famous
and in movies!
My name
will be everywhere!'

She listed so many more
until she finally just smiled
and looked at me with eyes filled
with child-like wonder.

'I could be anything I wanted.'

Years and years later,
I saw the same girl again
but her eyes no longer
lit up with wonder.

I asked her,
'What did you end up being?'

She

You.You told me once

you would break my stars,

tear them from the sky and devour them

s l o w l y.

I neglected to tell you

they all had their own feelings

and your bruises form my own constellation

in the quiet valleys of my firefly skin.

I am the milky way.

And you, my sweet-

You are nothing more

than a dead star

with a pretty name.

Writers BlockThere is a heart in a ribcage
And a brain sitting in a skull
There is a history that is void
And potential which is null

Just puddles of inspiration
Where the vast ocean once sprayed
An endless tide of moonshine
Swelled upon my parchment page

There's a brain sitting in a skull
There is a heart in a ribcage
There is ink in my fountain pen
But still no words on my page

Just embers of inspiration
Where a great fire once roared
I'll stoke it with those memories
I've been afraid of and ignored

FaithI love your belief in God.
 Not because it matches mine.  
Because it makes you even more beautiful to me.

  You are the dream I always wanted, but never had.  

(God likes to surprise me. Well, consider me surprised.)

It makes me want to sleep every single night by your side.
 I want to wrap my prayers around you.
 I want to press my lips to the segments of your body.  
If you asked, I would rest my head besides yours
 and dream your nightmares for you.

 (You shudder in your sleep. I don't think you know.)

In faith, I'll be your dreamcatcher.
In dreams, let me wis

Hallucinations"Hallucinations"

I found a small, green bottle sitting on a table

Without any description, warning, or label

When suddenly curiosity took a hold of me

Maybe just one pill could cure my disease

So I popped one in my mouth and swallowed it whole

And washed it down with old coffee gone cold

And realized after fifteen minutes nothing had happened

For these white pills offered me bitter compassion

So one pill led to two which then turned into six

I figured I needed more to completely get my fix

Six led to ten which led to twenty instead

And that's when I felt this ringing inside of my head

Or maybe that was the ambulance singing a son

Little Soldier BoyHe does not fight for the General barking orders,

Nor for the man in a suit, who sent him across borders...

In his pocket he keeps a single picture, a sole reminder

Like ancient scripture. A home he misses so endlessly,

Tirelessly calling out in his dreams at night. It is the last

That remains on his lips, with his finger pressed upon the trigger.

A single heartbeat, as he sights his enemy; A quiet prayer

To rest in peace. Yet soon it fades, as hope is fleeting;

For the little soldier boy, once marching home.

"Bottoms up buddy, I miss you..."

-Chen Yuan Wen, 18th October 2012

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I'm Not the Marrying Kind

by *UntamedUnwanted, Aug 24, 2012, 1:39:31 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

I'm not the marrying kind. 
I have stones in my hair instead of flowers,
And a rosebush of thorns is more poignant to me.  

I'm not the marrying kind. 
My words aren't pretty or wise,
And I can't sing about anything but a broken heart.

  I'm not the marrying kind. 
I am the sort of damaged you see in an old recorder,
And the kind of old in an instrument that breaks into a billion pieces at a touch.  

I'm not the marrying kind. 
Neither neat, nor tidy, nor correct in my behavior,
And yes, I did in fact tell you to fuck yourself.  

I'm not the marrying kind. 
I do not stay silent in arguments, 
And I like to lie compulsively, just to see your face change.

  I'm not the marrying kind. 
I am not the ideal of any lady, nor her likes, 
And I do not allow any man to walk all over me.  

No. I am not the marrying kind. 
But I do like the idea of a little girl with her mother's determination, 
And a man who smiles at me like I am his most treasured possession.

I'm Not the Marrying Kindby *UntamedUnwanted

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Just because I know I'm not the marrying kind...doesn't mean I can't be the loved kind.

(I should label these Before K and After K. This one was before K, when I was sad and depressed and rather low on myself because I had stopped believing anyone could actually care about me...I met him the very next day. And he makes me feel like the loved kind.

)

EDIT: Okay, context for all the people judging me and telling me there is something wrong with me: When someone has told you that you are damaged because you have a past, aka rape, miscarriage etc, etc, then eventually you start believing them. Please don't think I do not invest in my relationships because I do, only to be told I'm not good enough because I am not a virgin, speak out when I am being cheated on, not of the 'right' religion or their parents won't approve of me because I was raped and lost my children (Someone mentioned gender roles over here. I don't know where it is written that a woman has to be a virgin, chaste and do exactly what a man tells her to do to be a good wife either.).

So I say to all of those who have broken me: Maybe I am not the marrying kind. But since I can love with all my heart, maybe I do deserve a little bit of happiness anyway. Despite being the damaged 'fallen' woman that I am.

I think this background to the poem is important.

[link] - facebook page

~~mad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

*MzMADness Apr 28, 2013 Professional Artisan Crafter

When that last comment breaks you down and you finally just give up. This is who I am I guess, I don't care anymore. That's a strong moment. One where you put up a lot of walls. But then the moment where it changes. When someone for some reason can reach past those walls, into the heart you didn't think could be loved and makes you feel happy. Makes you feel like you Deserve to be happy. That moment is much stronger. That moment changes you for the better.

~summerday27 Feb 10, 2013 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

And I like to lie compulsively, just to see your face change. I've done this...
This is beautiful. In a honest, and well, just beautiful way. I can't really explain this.
As for this, "I met him the very next day" I think that, that is a beautiful turn of events. A serendipity.

~kirakishou21 Nov 22, 2012

very well said
from the poem to the background
i couldn't agree more

~kirakishou21 Nov 22, 2012

very well said
from the poem into the background
i couldn't agree more

*withinmeloveresides1 Oct 11, 2012 Student Writer

I wrote a poem in response to this poem and do hope you like it: [link]

~Slug22 Sep 30, 2012

Everyone deserves happiness and who are we to judge... your poetry, as is most poetry, is a frank exploration of the heart and soul, it is an expression of a point in time. The only judgement that that can be made is "Is this good poetry?" I think it is!

~Sebastianswiftwalker Sep 23, 2012

I smiled at the last line.

"It is never the things that break us that matter, it is the things we do after."

Flagged as Spam

~the-neon-affairs Sep 10, 2012 Hobbyist Photographer

Soo beautiful. I don't think I am the marrying kind either.

But, that's cool.

~Fell4 Sep 6, 2012

Just because you are not those things--a virgin, soft spoken, or a "lady" doesn't mean you don't deserve to be wedded. Don't let what people say affect you! People shouldn't judge others (although we do it anyway) for the one "who pass[es] judgement on someone else... at whatever point you judge the other, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgement do these same things."
If someone truly loves you, they will not care about these things because they will love you for who you are (I know it sounds cliche but) true "love is kind... it keeps no record of wrongs... It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and will always persevere." That is something I definitively believe in!

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