Poetry Pages

She was 2% less than perfection But felt 2% more divine, as They circled status-quo whorehouses and Felt ringed men claw stockings In the act She breathed faux-harmony And hatched ivory draped-melancholy Personally digging pre-historic Orgiastic bones and images of Penthouse intellect Forcing, doing...

pickled desires lack nutrients sifting like moles in earth buried like polar bears it is oppression unlike my own when I read Jim Carroll the images produced lack clarity do I feel pins pricking the surface of my skin? what is it? inspiration? the scaly tails of rats give me goose bumps, it is all I...

(I) This is simple The flowers are turning themselves In and the white linen is an Eggshell color I look at it closely And wonder which ingredients comprised To stain it The dust? It’s plausible Or maybe every person who Ever touched it left a Remnant – microscopic Reminder (II) The flowers are blue...

When I count to three The white leaves start Falling from the trees They settle in a pile by Rotten apples and share The same somber land The littered lawn lacks Human perception: analytical Analyses, deadpan exhaustion I would tell you about it Myself but my pen empties ink faster Than my brain; th...

His commonsense exonerates me – Simple unwell appearance, an Alleyway-stalking cat, his crooked Skull like the gills of a fish, sucked In and out, vague faced and wrapped In a spool He said: become simple Read nursery rhymes instead of Shakespeare Then be a god and hold trees By the roots, know each...

My hideousness is different from your beauty
I am a phone off the hook, you are glued down

You sit with your back turned the white of your eyes I can no longer see have the distinction of an eagle head – I remember – and your back is hunched like Quasimodo I feel like I could reach out my hand and trace the column of your spine: from the neck to lower back, like an architect ready to buil...

By the time we looked up at the Vividness, I had already slipped My hand into yours; our fingers Coalesced, and I, fighting, judged The reality of the moment: The park bench didn’t seem sturdy Enough; the grass felt too crunchy Underneath our feet; (my hand started To shake); the smell of lemonade B...

<center>lost
the idea of myself, but
i hope not for long</center>

I really like this. It makes me wish I could get in that "zone" more often. Where you can actually feel it happening. Nice poem.

<center>lost
finding my way
back here</center>

<center>lost
even though
I drink coffee
every morning</center>

<center>found
the one thing
I can look forward to
"Lost"</center>

<center>found
as the tea kettle
gets warmer
hot chocolate</center>

<center>lost
there, you guide me </center>