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yeatscome awayyeats by ~anniba
they say, they say
in a chittering of voices
to the water
youngest daughter
they laugh away your choices
then the wild,
o human child
a hand holds tight to yours
now she comes,
the water numbs
the tears were never ours
for basilyou found a boy in the ashesfor basil by ~anniba
and you made him a star ;
a mere pile of dust and leaden colours
but oh, how he shone
fools wish upon shining stars,
and fools fall in love ;
twice he made you for a fool
but oh, how he shone
he's a boy, just a boy
but stars have to burn to shine brighter,
and your artist heart melted
as the burning dust boy grew darker,
dry and shrivelled and harsh,
but still--
still
-- he shone
boys are cruel,
and stars even more so ;
hard and bright and so far away
lost in their own time
but oh, how they shine
and oh, how they shine
manners, pleaseyou don't learn manners at a funeral,manners, please by ~anniba
because who is there to thank?
and really, who is welcome?
you don't learn manners at a funeral.
you learn the metallic taste of sorries,
the shape that loss cuts in you
and the gritty feel of dirt.
you learn the size of questions,
the burden of breathing,
the sharp grip of hands upon your shoulder.
but no,
no.
you don't learn manners at a funeral.
you learn new lives;
they make you bury the old ones.
there's no one to thank.
no one is welcome.
and
god knows
we've worn out the word please already.
BAD WOLFhere is a list of things that you will never know about me:BAD WOLF by *ssleep
i am magic
i run through the stars with all the blood in my veins and
the whole of the universe inside me
there is a sun imbedded in my bones that refuses to die,
and a timelord heartbeat that will never stop
not in a trillion years of shattered glass
and fiberoptics;
not with the shaking of continents
and the wars of masters and kings
if you had a skeleton i would pull apart your ribs to use as drumsticks,
pounding that onetwothreefour
into the bedrock of the galaxy until all the minds on all the planets tremble
and everyone to the farthest reaches of space will know my
fourteenyou're fourteen and you don't let anyone read your poems.fourteen by ~missingnumbers
you write for your family
the kids who threw your backpack in the toilet
that one person
you think about
spending your life with
(and yeah, you're young, but
if this is real enough
to keep you awake
until your skin hums
and black sand tumbles
down you like a
crescendo
doesn't that
count for
something?]
and for your
imaginary
doctor.
and you keep the cover
tightly
shut
with "good" or "fine" or
i'm going for a walk
see you soon
because if they read
the words in the margins
like jagged teeth,
"
there's a cloud in my head
pushing against the edges
closurebukowski once said that the best often die by their own hand -closure by *rachel-rhapsody
but you, i think you died at the hand of this world,
in all of its cruelty and darkness
-
i can't help but wonder if you were scared,
if your hands shook when you fell from this world into the next
i'd like to think though, that you were calm in your dark, concrete haven
that you closed your eyes unafraid
i'd like to think that there is a god -
a gentle hand that wrapped itself around your tired body
and that you were truly happy, where ever it is he took you
but for some reason, i think you're a bird
somewhere warm
you'd make a beautiful bird.
-
i hope that my wor
scarsthey caught my eye when he passed me a pile of papers.scars by ~learningtobefree
i stared not too long & not too hard because i knew.
i asked are those scars? and he said yeah, did a little
laugh along with it. shame wouldn't let me look him in
the eye but i could see his eyes because see, i play
violin and that trains your peripheral vision. i said
sorry, don't know what for but i felt ashamed for point-
ing out flaws, he wasn't flaunting those scars but he
didn't do much to hide them either. i said sorry for not
stopping it, even though those razor blade lines adjacent
to the floor boards are old, they still hurt to look at
& they hurt to make. he said i
Sta.sh
