March 2012
3 tags
Her death.
500daysofart:
I could see all of her shattered hopes In the corners of her sad smile.
She stared at me while laying in my arms, Half broken, half alive.
Her blood covered us As a blanket of maroon roses. I knew that it was time to let go, Time for goodbye
But I, still, wanted to save her, Still wanted to hold on, To kiss her every wound, To make her feel alright.
She whispered words of...
11 tags
1 tag
for sara
scottiehughes:
that month when I was radio-brained static-hearted you appeared in such a gracious manner;
you weathered all the storms I sent blacktongued & mishap’d like we were immortal
through the next year I wiped sweat from us & you un- wound my lights, tonight we spoke:
you cooed like a summer storm in the wings of blue nothing and I was soft as rose petals
then, your veins all...
5 tags
The Idiot Manifesto: Gathering Fingers →
Staff Note: This is quite lovely. I’m lost for words.
theidiotmanifesto:
Written with my lovely sister Joanne.
Smile to wither away, ever pale in the dark, Not destined to meet the sheets of insanity, A shard of glass tumbling from a lost breath When eyes are sewn shut, a crimson lust.
Not destined to meet the sheets of insanity, These delicious drips onto willing tongues When eyes...
8 tags
day trip
Staff Note: I love this a lot. Amazing.
irrelevanceisbliss:
The closest I have ever come will ever come to flying soaring is atop a worn pair of rusted skis.
Winter is for speeding falling and sliding forwards down slanted slopes of blissful irrelevance.
The rusted tracks I leave are merely a reminder of where I started.
14 tags
Brandy & Biscuits.
burnsandfreckles:
She was raindrops left on a pain of glass after the torrential waters had run dry, all withered hands and stories about the past. Looked after by her husbands son who loved her a little more than he disliked her. Her shopping list was for brandy and biscuits, she survived off them and memories of dresses and drive in movies back when kisses were cheeky and relationships often...
February 2012
8 tags
Pickled Sex Life
penandwind:
Desire’s a persistent thing, But perishable and fragile all the same, Capable of spoiling so easily, That we must preserve it somehow, Lest it starts to rot.
Frustration is sour and bitter, And is so kin to vinegar, So awful to taste on it’s own, But has a way of preserving, So we place our unused desire in jars of frustration.
And Pickling one’s sex life makes things last, But...
6 tags
Savage Lee Writing: Good Dog →
Staff Note: It’s subtle, but clever.
savageleewriting:
“Well,” I admitted to her, “when I was ten, and living out in the woods, we had a dog. A big golden lab, by the name of Jake. He was a good dog.”
She smiles patiently, reloads, and then fires another barrage of explosive-tipped shells. The cops squeal like little piggies on the slaughterhouse floor.
“I remember one sunny day, Jake...
4 tags
Photos
Staff Note: Love this.
thinkcache:
Photos the biggest curse Proof of a past Which no longer has importance Faded Polaroids Obsolete Decaying No longer relevant to the present Makes us yearn for a “greater” time That is dead Gone So ubiquitous Litter in our minds memory So many people taking photos Without thinking Without looking In this wasting world
4 tags
Random acts of Quazy: Resilient growth →
Staff Note: This got to me. First line is gold, for me.
quazyt:
My compartmentalized heart often beat to the rhythm of two drum lines
One for the appetites of my beast
One for the principals of my soul
But you applied your blue eye balm to my existence
And you destroyed the pillars of my resistance
Our love it seems lives like the roots of prairie grass
As fires scorch the vary ground
...
3 tags
blankpagesandinvisibleink:
only the heart can commit. we can say the words, sign the papers, and secure ourselves behind the white picket fence, but, if the heart is not fully on board, then what we have becomes no more than a flimsy facade for what we need.
3 tags
honestly-frank:
Take it not to shame
when I gather your name
and collect it through out little bubbles
in my head
and they land in every part
and everything I do
becomes correlated with you
when I eat
when I bathe my dog
when I watch the nightly news
even tie my shoes
no, the shame is mine
because I put your name in bubbles
to purposely miss you
3 tags
Worthwhile
Staff Note: This is quite brilliant.
thisbatchwillbebetter:
Laying down miles of letter stencils
pneumatic arms are given pencils
invisible ink, a lampshade and a lime.
dragging jackets over buttermilk sky
water-tank flash-cotton imbibing dye
dries something to avoid the shrinkwrap time.
1 tag
2 tags
The Idiot Manifesto: Your lover is missing in the... →
Staff Note: This just made my mind spin backwards. This is amazing.
theidiotmanifesto:
Your lover is missing in the sun’s river, Lifted the diamonds from your pockets, And painted glory into dulled rotten flesh With his pulsing and fractured finger tips Before his muted voice sang him to shore.
N o s e a k n o w s t h e s u n
Upon the eve on summer’s first...
4 tags
peony in love: i wish i were a kid again. →
Staff Note: Funny, biting, and honest.
the-peony:
life can really suck sometimes as an adult.
we all go through the rights of passage - being born, blossoming into an annoying toddler, ripping apart our parents belongings, going through single digits as devils spawn and then blooming into a nightmare of a teenage dream: experimenting with…
Read More
4 tags
underthelilactrees:
You’re only beautiful when you’re looking at me through the whites of your eyes with a split skull and bones I can pick apart, toss aside. I crack wide your ribs to crawl inside, make a nest of veins and hair; turn your body into my devil’s lair. I roll your teeth like die and count my misfortunes in sets of two, place my bets on losing you.
6 tags
Voicemail:
Staff Note: Just read it, please.
greatnesslieswithin:
I want to speak to you directly, omitting the irrelevance of the english words I must use: our bodies conversing with no intermediary, professing how we feel: our souls softly uttering the words that no language could capture. we can stand at the...
2 tags
life as finished: Conversing with dead people... →
Staff Note: Interesting. Really communicates a sense of madness.
returnpoint:
We stay up late every night and we talk to dead people. I turned my back once to the one I speak to the most. She used to love me with a love that wouldn’t die, or so she used to say back then when she was still breathing and I think that’s what gave me the guts to betray her trust…You mostly talk to your God though...
1 tag
: Dangatorium Things and Plugs. →
dangatorium:
We Want Contributors:
The fact of the matter is that the four of us probably equal one competent writer. That being said, one person can’t do this alone. Most weeks have at least 7 days and that’s just too much for a single, gender ambiguous, creative collective. We are looking for people to share original and comedic content. What we are looking for:
funnyish.
original prose or...
3 tags
2 tags
Staff Note: Beautiful and sad… but for me, mostly beautiful.
caustikk:
I hardly have anything now, you know. Only words. Even then, they escape me, at times. Sometimes, I wish my world was a snow globe; upside down so that I may fall up down into the sky past glass forever and ever, letting the stars collect onto me until I slip into a black hole, to be forgotten.
3 tags
Beneath the Desert
martyrsbrigadeishtar:
If hands could talk Said tongues set deep within this barren wall
If hands could heal A shrapnel sunk in my Achilles heel
If hands could dance A dance of death & longing over me commands
If hands could see The glide of sun above bleak ruin and debris
If hands could carry me An angel touch of salt and seagull screams
If hands could fly Across the sea two...
9 tags
Blind
melissadang:
I see the world and it is blind. Light breaks in, casting shadows—harboring secrets. Against a cold brick wall he drags out his cigarette and asks How black is your soul? The blackest of them all.
That’s good, very good! His guttural laugh rips out the oxygen from his lungs Flooding his chest with black smoke—Nicotine is bliss. A little bit of truth, your universe is a catacomb,...
2 tags
avant-que-joublie:
He plays her like a violin, sitting with her tucked just under his chin, fingers splayed lightly on her neck, moving them up and down every so often, while his other arm, wrapped around her, moves across her torso, eliciting the sounds of weeping and laughing and sweet sorrow, never ceasing.
7 tags
Spared
Staff Note: Love the sentiment.
poorlywrittenpoetry:
I will live life unapologetically.
Mistakes will be made. I will
disappoint myself and others.
There will be things I could
have handled better. But I
refuse to be crippled by
remorse and allow only sorry’s
to pass through my lips, as
I once did. Days can be wasted
making amends. We are more
than the sum of our mistakes.
2 tags
Predictions on weekday.
leaonik:
Tomorrow we will make bets on who is better in bed.
I’ll say,”Stay sweet.”
You’ll say, “Stay sober.”
I’ll write you poems behind your back.
42 lines about the way you like your tea,
and the way you read my journal by the mini lamp in the bathroom.
We’ll see a movie at 2:15 and I’ll forget how it started
but I’ll remember your fingers on the inside of my right thigh.
You’ll...
6 tags
Amorevolous.
psychedelicanomaly:
Unrelenting Your waves against my shore Gently pull me under Until I gasp for more A teardrop in your ocean A whisper in your head The creaking of a staircase My imprint in your bed There was love before you His lips burned me like fire Now your gentle arms (surround me) Your ship has run aground Is this mystery pure madness Is this madness something new Will...
4 tags
mobbleberry:
He is the still point in this turning world. So the trees grew lungs, to capture the air I expel whenever he is near…
1 tag
comakid:
a lazer show on the moon as a mustached man methodically rides his bicycle in the bike lane and thinks about a girl while she drives her car in the car lane. she is listening to the radio and the generic alt rock song synchronizes with the technicolor lights on the moon synchronizes with his labored breathing and he pedals slowly but it’s exhausting and she puts on her lipstick using...
13 tags
Watchmoderateclimates:
Isn’t my girlfriend just the most stunning person ever?
shesanargonaut:
Abandonment
Dear Boy,
Have you ever looked up and felt insignificant, absolutely minuscule to the gaze of a hundred million unblinking eyes?
I’ve been feeling this way lately when I’m in your arms, like I am destined to be one rivulet streaming through your canyon embrace.
I’m sorry that I cannot...
4 tags
2 tags
“I’m convinced that no one can amount to a damn in the arts if he becomes sweetly...”
– Kurt Vonnegut (via scottiehughes)
1 tag
Stay.
redchundri:
i. She invokes water. Her state of slips, skinned in steam, rising from tulle of breath. She builds dams like a keepsake under exposed nodes. Run-off. Small hands can’t hold long enough. She creases like pine. “No, stay,” she murmurs. ii. He invokes her. His state of seams, loose when alone, sizing silence from self-exhales. He likes it when she is there to break it occasionally....
2 tags
Staff Note: LOVE.
soulpensieve:
there is something about your eyes that infects my thoughts as it searches for a spirit that was purposefully lost
there is something about your smile that on my walls pound as it hunts for a heart that refuses to be found
there is something about your being that whispers to my pain saying to my soul you don’t have to hurt again
3 tags
flood-lit:
scottiehughes:
Whoever had been there before you forgot to turn the pool lights all the way off.
We spent pocket-change on a cheap climb up the chain-link fence- there was something I had to show you, I’d said. I watched as you dove in with rippling breath,
cool over my droplet-smattered skin, as though it were the middle of November again. You had told me you’d never been kissed in the rain,...
9 tags
Night Walk
Staff note: I love late night walks.
orangewordz:
My feet ponder the night And my stiff hands cup a tea My mind roams from here to there And back again As it does these days.
Darkness swallows me wholly Stuck in the belly of this world, I exhale my afflictions Offering to the darkness a silver cloud Containing the sources of my delusion.
In return, I breathe freely Feeling that...
2 tags
Staff note: Simple and just wonderful. Love it.
unsaidunknown:
Each artist are different - They are never the same.
Each brushstrokes on the canvas - Always differs in their own ways.
But at heart, they are of the same And paint A wonderful work of art - Altogether and remains
(All the more the same For the artists...
3 tags
shadows of a silver lining
velixir:
Summer sleep sweeps by, his eyes are downcast, his shoes are awfully scuffed, but I can’t tear my eyes from his suave steel smirk
he’s in a business suit, custom tailored, slim and ironed and a heavy silver watch piece ‘round his wrist
a piercing in his collarbone, a stud in his heart, a stutter in the shadow of quick footsteps that don’t quite make it to the next scorching sidewalk...
5 tags
illusionists and distant balloons
thoughtsplatteredeverywhere:
I told myself that you were healthily glowing, vividly daydreaming, and vibrantly healing. I convinced myself that you were grasping the hand of a dandelion just before a child made a wish, or at least floating with the dust mites in the sunlight that wrapped its arms around my waist in the boney kitchen. I assured myself that you were securely locked in my dreams...
5 tags
Staff note: I know that I sometimes feel like this with my own mother, and there are probably other people who feel like this too. This is a written so well.
a-whisperinthewind:
We do not connect. We differ constantly. Our opinions dance together in the flames, battling each other out and never giving up the fight.
We do no connect. I am unsure of whom to credit the fault to. I say to...
10 tags
Staff note: Beautifully written.
perfecti0n-the0ry:
I vanished in the midnight wind, near silver glare of moon pale ghost of Death, so kind to sight has held my hand too soon. So into night I quickly flew, despair possessed my mind to shadow-lands my spirit drew, to leave this life behind. And as you sit in mourning, the wind in moonlight plays forever will my spirit roam, ...
2 tags
deadbooks:
cracked skulls are the same as cracked sidewalks don’t you know how often you step on them don’t you know how often you step on me
3 tags
iamadarkmatter:
Midnight hour will sing you my unspoken words of deepest admiration, and pure unselfish love let your hollow bones be painted white under yellow soft lights lay here beside me. It is okay to let go of the dark and lay here (beside my soreness) count the stars and make your own brighter lampshades under...
4 tags
Chemistry Rested: 20120223 →
Staff note: He doesn’t write too often anymore. I like the way he gets to the point, but the language still has a touch of poetic realism.
chemistry-rested:
Sober days are the worst days. The days when I am painfully aware. Complete consciousness makes only for frustrations and their subsequent headaches.
And not having cigarettes makes it that much worse. It took a while to con myself...
4 tags
A Dream
Staff Note: I am absolutely in awe with the imagery in this one. Excellent piece!
lifeencoded:
I remember when it rained so hot, that the thunder cracked the ground in half. The air burned a thousand suns hot. The water became the steam you see now, the mists we walk in. We had all been too busy to remember what our world used to look like. Now we can only dream of the earth as she was.
Mistake!
Sorry about that face fucking gif! I guess we all need a little sex sometimes, though, ey?
- Ali
4 tags
Cheap Motel on the Moon
clintirwin:
My gums are bleeding Dirty, insane, lost, tainted. How can I impose on your safe life of Quietude? I am stained, burned. What will my wit And erotic charms be After you have set your foot In the moon? Solar flares and icy dark — Remember to bring your space suit.
6 tags
I fell in love with a thief
Staff note: This is amazing. Love it.
thestillmidnightpoet:
He steals everything Books, pencils, sidewalk jewelry He walks silently, unknown and unnoticed He hides in shadows On the day I met him He stole something from me And ran, knowing it was the most valuable Of his stolen possessions It didn’t shine, it was worth nothing But it changed lives and had power
He stole my words All...
4 tags
Night Terror
deafeninglysilent:
When my dream becomes a nightmare,
And the technicolor gives way to grey;
When everything I like turns to dust,
And all the happiness has gone away;
When every single sight incites terror,
And every turn throws horror my way;
Is it still you I am supposed to turn to,
When my monsters come out to play?