[x]

I Don't Miss AdolescenceMy sister calls to ask me if I'll do her makeup;
Mami promised that she would, but she's tired
and screamed when Maria reminded her senior prom
is tonight. She says, "I have a hickey on my neck,
something she doesn't want to cover, and you've always
done a better job of highlighting the subtle graces
inherent to my bone structure, the angles we share."

I say, "That's okay, but I can't pick you up,"

so she arrives in a flourish of exasperations,
telling me all the family business, waving her nails
in my face and talking about the pain of her extensions.
She says, "Do you think we need yellow concealer?
I plan to take pictures, and the last

Onyx DreamsOnyx Dreams

Fluctuations of sound waves vibrate the floor,
While the lights of my room glow brilliantly,
But as time winds down and my energy starts its decline,
My vision gets blurry and listening becomes hearing,
And hearing becomes simple background noise,
While Palaceer Lazaro’s words become filmy intonations
Yet, still creating a motion picture full of abstract images,
In my mind full of words and phrases that do nothing but stay stagnant,
And Slumber begins to wrap her warm hands around my head,
As she sweetly begins to pull me into black depths of rest,
A state of unconsciousness that will take me on a journey,
Through the grey abyss we call the center of our nervous system,
And once I fall into the pit of nothingness, the pit of onyx, for those few hours,
I will transform into an atramentous being with aphotic wings,
Because “black is free……..”

You were cold insideYour lips tasted of
summer, of warm days and
cherry-flavoured ice,
relaxing by the
pool side and
smiling against the sun.

You should have been too hot,
too sticky, too humid.
You should have
overheated, should have
melted into your bones until
they turned to ashes, but
it never happened.

I suppose I should have
seen it coming, but
I was so moonstruck over
the way you said my name, so
in love with the idea
of love, that I
didn't notice the way
your eyes bled
winter.

Poem of the day 145 / Poeme du jour 145Une pluie d’hiver
sur les dunes
scalpées

A winter rain
on the scalped
dunes

Frantz, mai / may 2013

She's changedIf you looked at a little girl with big brown eyes and soft hair from the crown of her head
Her dreams would be big and her worries would be simple
And you’d say “She’ll be going places”

If you looked at a young girl with a toothy grin and a giddy laugh
Her pride would be strong and her conscience would be clear
And you’d say “She looks happy”

If you looked at a shy growing girl with her forehead covered and sleeves down to her fingertips
Her eyes would be distracted and her heart would be a drama queen
And you’d say “I don’t know who she is”

If you looked at a maturing girl

7 - The Pet PoetI remember when Mommy bought you
a black-haired pet for your sweet sixteenth.
Its bronze collar said its name was "Poet."
You fed it noise from the out-of-tune piano,
intense moments involving flesh and razors,
and the occasional walk by the lake.

At first, he knew only the wolf's howl,
purging blood and flames onto the carpets.
Everywhere was a smell of extravagance --
like that woman's cheap perfume on the train to work.
But you cried a little less,
smiled a bit more.
And that was when Daddy stopped
trying to send it back to the shelter.

Soon, you even started watching T.V.
(and enjoyed food, dressed nice, made friends.)
But T

To Our Princess We Must GoHow dare you take from us our Princess!
How dare you cast away her light!
How dare you seize her from us!
We resist with all our might!
You saw the signs of her sadness!
You saw the signs of her dismay!
You saw the darkness growing!
‘Twas you who had betrayed!
Abduct from us our feathers!
Give us wings of flesh and bone!
Bear a mark upon us
We are loyal to the crescent throne!
Send us all up to her
And as you cast away this third
We will scorn and hate and curse you!
Dismiss us from the herd!
Don’t fret for long, dear Luna
For we are well upon our way!
May our presence to you be comfort
It’s at your side forever shall we sta

VIIEncore un peu de cendre
Au coin de tes lèvres
Parolescentes

J'épluche tes souhaits
Tu laves le ciel
En vain

Et dans ce vent chaud
Des milliers de pétales
De peau

nothing specialthey tell you not to give up
because you have potential--
and to the ones who simply enjoy
you're probably fantastic
but to those who do
you're simply mediocre,
nothing to bat an
eyelash at.

you're not quite bad enough
to quit, but you're not
great enough to be
remembered.

unrequitedyou make my words
gather at the hollows
of my throat
until i choke on them.

my fingers ache to
hold you--
but my eyes ache to
cry.

you're nothing but heart break
wrapped in a bow
of something beautiful,
like the dust of grace from
fallen angels.

i drink a little faster and
cry a little harder
because the way whiskey and tears
mingle on my lips
tastes suspiciously of love.

Thinking.Thinking without thought,
Not thinking about a lot.

Thinking about what it how it would be,
To have a thoughts as endless as the sea.

Thinking about the passing time,
About the mountains I have not climbed.

Thinking about a world gone by,
And about the big blue sky.

Thinking about love so sweet,
And of life crumbling at my feet.

To think about everything vast as it seems,
Would take as long as counting dreams.

So to think without a thought,
And not to think about a lot.

Would carry on an endless dream,
And let time unravel at it's seams.

SeppukuA blue sky greets me as I kneel to the ground.
I hear the rushing wind and the sacred water sound.
The cold, grey stone upon my knee,
As I prepare myself for eternity.

I take a solemn look at my silent crowd,
Those cruel, dark faces scream so loud.
They want me to do the final deed.
I'll plunge the tanto in. They'll see me bleed.

I look for a while at my full rice bowl,
And prepare for the next cycle of my soul.
What shall I be? A man or god?
Shall my next life be lived in the mud and sod?

I finish quickly so we don't delay.
By now the light is fading away.
I take up the pen and start to write,
To put brush to paper is one last delight.

"

Petit OiseauDon’t move a muscle
I’m not even drawing in breath
Through my heart
Oh, such a tiny, naïve little thing!
Will she let me approach, if I’m careful enough?

Or will wings divide my intentions
Widening gaps from the soil to the sky
Soil in my hands, and
Purple stars in her breath
I could never hurt you, little pixie
My winged Thumbelina

I don’t move a muscle
I’m focusing on not drawing breath
Lungs contract
She gives me a heartwarming stare
And oh, I am moments away!

But stop! Coarse laughter sings
Dark notes that may injure her
But the dancer still hops, unaware
Of the tears designing my chee

The Boy Who WaitsThe train rolls past the selfish boy,
The boy who stands and waits forever,
The boy who watches the girl fly past,
And wishes she would get off at his stop.

The boy stuck in circles,
The boy who always needs help,
The shy boy with the social prowess of a shattered rock.

He waits and waits,
And every time she flies past,
He hopes and hopes.

She talks to him often,
But sometimes not so much,
He feels like he’s walking straight when she speaks,
Her words make sense to his boggled mind.

The boy at the station,
With eyes wide in anticipation,
The selfish boy who wishes good things to happen,
The boy who takes things for granted,
Who thin

Left AloneYou want me to leave you alone? I'll leave you alone.

You want me to buy you a cake and a knife? Sure I'll do that.

So, what else do you need me to do? OK. That should be easy to do.

Here I go, walking to and fro, to unknown destination just so I can please you.

You hate my guts, huh? Well, to be honest, and I will not lie, I hate your guts too.

You see me and I see you, walking past each other each and everyday - We do not smile.

I often invision you surrounded by flames and you invision me drowning in the sea.

And here is my question to you: Why do you hate me so much?

You snarl as you echo my words: Why do YOU hate me so much?

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Sing to the moon

With pelts of silver and black, two large wolves looked out to the silver glow. Over head the moon hung high and all around the two sounds of the night and their kin rose into the sky. The voices called out in haunting oh's to the goddess who rested in the blinding light of that silver glow.

Wolf of silver with eyes of shining blue rose her head high, and lips parts to answer the night's sweet call. I am here, I am aware, I am the hunter! Her howl rung out and the other wolf could not help but smirk and join in.

The wolf of ebony fur's scarlet eyes told stories of war and chaos. However the night did not wish to see but hear, and his lips

Songs

Ever hear a song,
And can't help but sigh,
As you think of the one who is tied to those words.

Even though you didn't make,
The song and are not the singer,
It seems quite true as you dedicate the words to others.

Even though,
It's just a few words and a beat,
Somehow it causes the memories to flow.

And be it,
One of treating roses,
Or a song to tell the heart to go on.

For when one needs to stand,
They will always by themselves,
And time after time they will have try so hard.

So the words go,
With the chorus cord,
And a pleasant yet sad smile grows.

On the faces of all,
Who hear the words,
Of a few songs from those nights oh so long ag

Monsters in the dark

A million cages rest,
With creatures of pure shadow,
And fangs glistening in scarlet red.

The monsters howl,
For the sanity of their captor,
For the heart and soul of their master.

When the lights go out,
And no one else is there to defend,
The barking and growling slurs into words.

"How useless,
How pathetic and pointless,
How worthless of a life form.

Someone save me,
I'm to weak to live on my own,
It is something I can't change I was born inept. "

Those words tear through skin,
As if each syllable were a silver bullet,
And the mind was the flesh torn asunder by the blast.

Deep breaths pass the lungs,
As tears flow down hazel eyes,
An

The circle

Hands seal tight,
The circle is complete,
And thus all is locked and set to reject.

No benevolence,
Nor any form of malice,
May enter into the circle.

All who speak,
That stand outside,
Are subject to rejection.

In this circle,
The mind's eye opens,
Thus all negativity is expelled.

Yet should she,
Not have the might,
This paradigm thus is denied.

Removal from the circle,
And loss of Selene's sweet light
As right to the ilk is hence revoked.

So stand true,
Daughter of the forest,
As the mind's eye opens and darkness manifest.

All must face,
Judgment's door,
That reflects and repels.

Hands sealed tight,
The circle strains and twists,
As

The final tear

Tree of Madness
Will sing a last hymn
For you the children of man.

When the final leaf falls,
All eyes shall shut and then,
Time shall cry with but a single tear.

This tear shall spread,
Through all moments and instances,
Washing away that which must exist.

Sign goodnight,
As the ever lasting sea,
Washes away all that could ever be.

Tree of Madness

One word forms the seed,
That is the core of the tainted tree's breed.

The one word branches out,
And the oak takes form filled with doubt.

The seed bursts and branches,
Transform into a hymn of paths,

Each leaf formed,
Is a fire waiting to be born.

Thus the tree of Madness,
Seeds of words flown into the wind.

From there it begins again,
With each plant growing from a single word.

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Dreams to prove

by ~Zanerus, Mar 1, 2012, 10:34:53 AM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

Tell me a dream,
And in it show me,
Both history in fantasy and reailty.

When you speak,
Know full well,
The possibilty I won't understand.

But even though,
It goes right over my head,
Tell me every dream and vision.

Speak it all,
And beyond that,
Enact the truth your desire.

Why should it matter,
If I or anyone else doesn't get it,
The riddle isn't meant to be solved by fools.

And even
As I show,
Annoyance from it all,

I'd rather remain,
An ally and a friend,
Because loss is the worst evil.

So say it all,
And prove to yourself,
The dream you turley want can be done.

Dreams to proveby ~Zanerus

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

Dreams have many differences, and even if I don't understand them, express them all. Based on a chat with my friend when he was talking about languages which I didn't understand so he stopped talking till I asked him to go on because I like hearing people being passionate

~UnkownAuthorTag Apr 6, 2012 Hobbyist Artist

You have a very intriguing mind. This speaks to me. Well done

~Zanerus Apr 7, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

As I said to my friend Ren a few days ago one can only see through their own mind and thus intrigue to some is normal to others.

Thank you for your compliments, I'm very honored ^^

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Dreams to prove

Dreams to proveby ~Zanerus

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