[x]

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav

He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a

Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.

PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint

with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.

Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?

SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.

SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free

Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain

Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,
you'd be wrapped in the sweetest
perfumes
(learning
how to engulf the ocean
with your lungs
and think of how to cup it
in your hands
despite
your broken prayers and
still be beautiful)

dance with the gypsies
'till noon
(a quake in
your hips like the thrust
of continents
and the faultlines
emanating from
your spine,
but still
so, so graceful)

sing with the nymphs
in tune
(your voice,
it's growing old,
raspy even.
your throat's burning dry
like a monsoon
faltering in a desert,

and tones
still octaves
powerful)

be nestled in a king's arms
soon
(oh, you precious
little thing.
how

Riddle My tears fall,

like invisible

diamonds.

My heart beats,

like soundless

drums.

Unwanted,

because of the

strings attached.

What am I?

A Night By the FireNo light,
The light sired by the night
All above whilst the day's delights
Now disappears from mortal sight.

Faded away is the sun's power,
Taking the stage now is night's sallow flower;
Now mortals may behold the stars and falling shower.

Set in a pit Nature's skyscraper ablaze
And revel in the emanating heat as you gaze,
Looking down on occasion when you hear a crack from the fire
And witness "fireflies" flying away from mother's blaze;
Dying shortly after but not lacking burning beauty do they desire!

I look out towards the teasing shore
And meditate as we sit upon her door,
Thinking on what my future has in store;
Who I am now and even

Why meI wanted sleep very badly
I tried my hardest to rest
I closed my eyes and laid there
But sleep didn’t come easy
I would doze off
And wake back up
Again
Why me? When I know I have to be up at 3 AM.

Seaside HolidayI am content
to stay
a caterpillar

Who says
you have
to change?

What's so great
about being
a butterfly?

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More from =robostorm

Cold Hands

My hands are slowly closing
Shutting down beneath the cold
I wish I had wool
With which I could rub my hands
Instead I leave them
open, exposed and vulnerable
to the hail falling from the sky
to the torrid winds rushing past
to the sleet coating them in icy pellets

My hands are turning blue
As I lose the last ounce of warmth
that my bones had held in reserve
In case my heart were to fail
the blood is draining out my wrists
Dulling the feeling of cold
for the cold only brings numbness
And I want to feel everything
I want to burn when I fall into fire
I want to scream when I become gauged by the spinning gyre
that wishes to tear my

The SongbirdsAcross the field of lavished green
We lie still and are unseen
Our heads against the blades so lush
You touch my cheek, you make me flush

The morning's dew along the ground
Like tears of joy the morning's found
Your eyes transfixed upon my own
Holding bright, a lighter tone

Above us fly birds of dawn
twittering and tweeting "The night is gone"
The maple leaves swinging low and light
The dawn birds above taking flight

Across the meadow the sun falls long
Blue Jays sing a bright noon song
The light glimmers against your eyes
We do not move, I softly sigh

The birch trees fine, long snowy whites
Throwing fine shadows, singing low plights
The

Food.
My one
And only thought.
The need to sink
My all too eager teeth
Into fruit, meat or other things.
Whatever I can get, anything;
With my tired body
Sickened from desire;
Thinning, failing,
Starving.

Energy.
I fear
That I don't
Have enough left anymore,
To continue to stay alive.
Wanting to nourish my emaciated body,
I feel my soul die,
Beneath the emptiness inside
Which overwhelms me,
Imbues my
Spirit.

Pain,
I'm too
Hungry to feel.
My speech slurred, confused;
I've lost sense and senses.
I can feel my organs stopping,
As I sit down, ready
Willing to let go,
On white snow.
I fall,
Dead.

Rosemary Tears

Beyond the realm
Of reality and reason
Rosemary tears
And violet snares

We're trapped alone
In a world full of broken souls
You can pretend
That you aren't like them

You can feel them
Their breath frozen against your skin
You cannot turn
Fearing what there stands

Beyond the realm
Of fantasy and mystic lore
Transparent fears
And haunting stone stares

I'm dead with you
In this cold barren concrete cell
"Kiss me" I beg
"Try to convince me"

You can't feel me
I know that you want to believe
That I am gone
There's nothing left here

Beyond the end
Letting myself slip away now
Shadowy tiers
And slow-parting pairs

Eliot, sir
Why would I dare to

The Path of Stone Beyond these mountains
Lies a path of stone
In darkness veiled
This pass of bone

You who enter
Cannot be found
For no one escapes
Shadow's surround

The path you seek
Leads straight to black
Entombed in darkness
Your spirit will crack

Be wary seeker
Of what you find
For your curiosity
Will kill your soul and mind

Do not follow this way
For beyond the path before
Lies a valley of darkness
only hell and more

If you survive the march
Into the depths of pain
Unable to return
There you will remain

Walking in a valley of Shadow
Death surrounding all within
You will fear evil
As you succumb to sin

Fear for your life
And do not pass
Fear for

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Submitted: September 11, 2012
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Conversations

by =robostorm, Sep 11, 2012, 8:18:52 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

these conversations
these vultures
circling above the broken maimed
carcass of our relationship
just let it die

it is time that we finally give up
stop trying to rebuild it
we just cannot do it any more
I am spent
I cannot do this any longer

these conversations
so one sided and false
these lies I never prescribed to
these complications
that we cannot overcome
I'm tired of fighting it
just let it die
let it die

Conversationsby =robostorm

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2012-2013 =robostorm

Sort of a short'ish' poem about the end of a relationship whether it be romantic or not. Hope y'all enjoy and please comment if you get a chance.

~Roos-Skywalker Sep 11, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

It is beautiful how you trnaforn emotions into words.

Reply

=robostorm Sep 11, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

thank you so much! Thanks for the

as well!

Reply

~DeeryDeerth Sep 11, 2012 Hobbyist Digital Artist

I really love it! Great one!

Reply

=robostorm Sep 11, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thx! Thx for the

Reply

~DeeryDeerth Sep 12, 2012 Hobbyist Digital Artist

You're very welcome.

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