[x]

in the future. nowi cannot tell
whether or not
it's the weather
or my toes are
cold for other
reasons

--

your thoughts
are like
an avalanche
melting
on top of me
like all the
oceans and all
the seas
inundating me
with backwash
and dead things
and oil spills
and a need
to drown

--

it is only a romantic notion
a dream for a higher purpose
special things that seperate

--

there was something worth it
up there, you told me

--

no one would ever think to look for me
there
(i too, deserve the sun, sometimes, sometimes)

--

you asked never
you asked
you asked never to
never
never to
never
never to sing
you asked never
never t

If you keep your eyes closedI start, but I begin to faulter
catching myself on cliffs of wind chapped lips
gnawing uncertainty with white spears

(oh native tongue)
what's spinning you?

The bastard child that thinks I'm a yo-yo.

I begin again, only to fall into
the same too big for you shoes, same glazed (aspartame laced) over smile,
and you. you are... a

your lips spill truthyour ardour pearls into cups to catch my eyes
but we do not fall for weakness; pin pricks beneath
my toes and i keep falling

your empty hands caress the washed streets of my cheeks
but too late for the deluge
you stroke tomorrows downstream

you are a word i suddenly remembered the meaning for
misusing it this whole time,
i feel such a fool.

im caught in an updraft of your hello
the easy way that smile turns into my name
turns to a frown

im seducing the last traces of your nonchalance
beckoning him out with promises
of promises

i sense your lips do lie, but we both know
a kiss can last forever and
forever can end with a kiss.

never whenIt's in the way the afternoons play catch and kiss with your toes
burying themselves in your back pocket with train tickets
and things to make your breath taste like mint

a tradition of recall
and replay and remember

There weren't any birds, that I recall, the day I loved you.
And to replay the eradication of a breath within a breath I suppose I forget
willingly, just to remember

Of course the chatter of the crowds diminish when fine-tuned focus is called upon
straining skin in anticipation of connecting warmths.
Luminosity kept; shining stars between our fingers when you held my hand

"No, no it's the insecurity,Who am I (to say; to know that these paragraphs and these lines and everything I ever have, will and never say, is worth; is meant, is what I want to intimate, is understood, is mistaken, is supposed to be) fooling anyway?

act i into(beauty)

obscured into a blur
i become fluid with the silent
motion of the lines

my eyes are a continuing moment
along the spectrum of heard
seen tasted felt

(smelt)

--

this is the wonder of is

--

i miss the genesis
the before the flood

--

the fluid motion
of calling home the birds
with a scattering of seeds

--

the tips of your hair
dapple bright ecstasies
on your reflection

they drip the terror
from your throat
floating downstream

--

a tracing of your skin
under my skin print

injects memory into my fingers
and solidifies in silence

--

it was raining when-
it was raining when-
it was raining when you held you

to see it fall, forgetsworse than the leaves
you shake

(and it isn't even blowing
cold across your shoulders)

there is no wind,
but breath

and you fall
like the tree --
alone

(but not so)

i am the only
one to hear you
crumple, see you
fold

and i told her to waitand i told her to wait one hour and a day, but she was too impatient.
instead, she stayed for a year and a week
and wept bitterly at her crying shoes.

i said, 'dont cry for your feet,
they only follow your voice
and you make the choice to lead them astray'

she bit cheeks of an apple, and left me the core
i told her no more and she took back hello
ate up all my heart, drank all my love juice. spat all the pips out. the whore.

she dallied past non sequiturs and fell victim to gullibility,
her paranoia blinding her light. she couldnt see, couldnt hear, nor realise
what was so blatantly latent.

i asked her what it meant to let the sky

uncovered whirlI left my eyes on the shelf so you had no reason to stare at me mouth-word lost
So you could curl into the crackle of my demands;
rumbling from inside
falling quiet through my throat
and coming out as ghost whisper

So sure you heard it?
I was so sure you heard it.

But it doesn’t seem to matter so much

Example, follow-through, finished product.

I am your awake
your finished thought compliant
your signed certificate of
documentation of

purpose
(perfect)

they treacle trickle down black-washed paths
padded silent in the closed sign hours
holding close from the streetlight
making sure not to wake the neighbours

adjusting l

Give up on that emptyIt is with your visible forms
and deep laments; carrying you
across tempests of metaphor.

A million ways to say
the same heart ache made
special. Original.

But we are left with our
alones, our darkened skies
of misplaced whys. Fists

beating upon a simile
drenched with synonyms
for heart hurt.

Are we here to commiserate?
To begin again a dance
whose music stopped

before the curtsy thanks.
And even if this waltz is
burdened by cliche

shared by many with only
differentials; variables of
the same theme and same

outcome: I again will
pretend that no one has
ever kissed like this.

remissa cloudless autumn was nine o'clock and counting
on two feet that never came

scents of white blossoms curling in
from past summer. the fountains sausage

sizzling on the concrete, errant
juices landing torpedo streams

along soft flesh. the mother dissipates
replaced with 'Roses - $5'

i decline. pursuing the silken
fingers of a graceless gerbera

twisted with wire to keep its back
so straight. "that's fifty cents

change." winter is a simple matter
overcome with an interest to exchange

and gratify. i pluralise love
to the wind; emptying my palm

of pink petals, of summers gone
and say hello to spring.

winter tipssometimes when it's really quiet
and morning slices frail fingertips along the surface of far away

i shudder

into myself obscure.

you in your mouthi am curious about you
of course, i'd like
to know how many sugars
if any, i think i'd like
to know how well

done. but i'm not sure
of course, if i should be
curious (or otherwise)

if it is indecent
of me to speculate

ponder how much milk
wonder what textures
you favour
in your
mouth

maybe i should wait
for the situation
to present itself

rather than spend
these days thinking
about
it

what they say about dying men       i think it would be nice if you puked on me.

       i mean it. i don't care about smells. if i had the option i probably would've let my nose go a long time ago, cut loose and let it fly off, bloody and attached with fleshy noodle string. (probably that time when i was eleven and in love with my second-cousin and my feet smelled and he was breathing down my neck and it would've probably just been better if i hadn't known that my feet smelled and could've only felt his stomached, washed and beautiful breath.)
  &

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More from ~saturnineguise

Purr poseyou condense into trickles of after thought
tastings of that day i let you fall atop me like
slumbering lumber
carcrashing to the ground: my body

a scent
stringent, perhaps as an as
stripping bare emotions
i couldnt bare

(turn the pantry light off dear, the patch of headlights on the sides of the doorway scare me in the night)

like a robber who comes to rape you of your worth

there was a line i wrote once that you loved and showed whole continents

it appears we were an entity
as an an

leaves nothing for addition of two holes.

(perhaps it was only ever won)

a converging of two sight lines
parallel and never touching touching t

Snowing ions.I hold myself back from the outset.
Before the breath is held to produce the sustaining note.
Tenor, soprano; tenuous
a slapping of elastic on cardboard

I flick back to a distance of thought
where your friend incited more than mockery in me
but that was only a thought
before
decision

I am sure your thoughts on caresses
end in your satiation
(but it was a held belief, you would have me)

I hold myself back from the outset.
(or was it the pre-set?)
set to record at least
on jumbled magnetic tape
snowing your disillusion
with the stutter of static

she says yes
you say yes
they all say yes

I say,
retro porn can still get you

none the why sir?His words were pincers in my eyeballs. In as an unlikely situation as him standing before me. Trapped in black. Fading into another generation 'why?er'.
Kind of just like me.

"Two steps away is half as many as you should be."
"What's with you and the number four?"
"It's not five."

There were whispers of a fairy tale trapped in your eyes. The blood curdled them into worry lines, and anger signs and a drooping smile. Like the pot plant I never watered.

Isolate a moment. Breathe it in. Like honeysuckle, like the jasmine blossoms speaking of summer at my parent's house. Death of a childhood. Isolate a moment. Breathe it in. Do not click yo

Wishes for youWarm custard in the mornings, like how I used to make when I was nine
and midnight pancakes, staying up late watching movies
and nine am sunday bacon and eggs and laughing summer wafts of cut grass days
honey like dew on the lawn.

blowing balloons up for your birthday party
filling up water bombs for betrayal
in a
in a splash
(!)

the buttery warmth of your favourite blanket wrapped around you as cocoon
--stealing your father's post--
saturday morning cartoons

the fantasies lived out with your best friends
--in your back yard--
in another land

your mother buying you your favourite drink
your favourite food
your favourite colou

mumblingthere is a slight hum heard
over the furore

of spent furies
disgracing the day.

it is their dismal
entreaties coalescing

with the wind, cloud
;leaf caught in gentle updraft

crashing to the unsuspecting
dust particles of want

evanescent whispers
catch and call in the sigh

you were so sure you heard, so
fallen in with fate (faith?)

a harrying furrow
knitting into your smile

forgetful of the valkyrie screech
destined for the night

an ever present never
caught betwixt your ears

your mouth; your essence
of horror.

Often. Left.This Lilith I'm supposed to be:
flower supplanted.

Cordially bespattering charmed lips
with a folly of forever

curses, surely, often when
these of we, have left

a burden of clarity
in vile claret.

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[x]

-truth-

by ~saturnineguise, Sep 14, 2007, 7:18:15 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

will you meet me in the spaces
between our fingers

become tiny
atom-like

indivisible, but one

(and all the smaller pieces
that don't matter)

trade electrons

become
heavier
elements

----

a hollow note
crawls up
my throat

when you
depart

----

twenty minutes to dawn
(i know this because we've been here before)
in this moment, and this thing of arms and arms entwined, called embrace
this moment on soft notsosoft ground sheets

this look

it's the same
and in this moment

this moment is again

----

and your voices
singing as the past
ricocheting off
ceilings and walls
that do not house me
anymore, i hear you
strum afar
voices lamenting
as one.

your mother

----

when i
those
it's like
but i
that
i can't
what did
can you
know that
wait

----

you are farther away
when i am with you

than when we are
so far apart

----

i do not have a traditional clock
that could tick away the night
in even tones
to focus on
when i'm trying my hardest not to be awake

----

i only have digitalisations left
for metaphors

----

and i know
no matter what colours
what sounds
and what repetitions
available
i will never
be able
to run away
from your name

----

there is a fear
that smells
suspiciously
like hope

----

it's time the future
gave up

----

is it?

or is my mind
just trying
too hard

----

did i believe it was you
in those words

perhaps that wasn't
what mattered

----

the insides
of a flower
feels like
the need
to scream

----

if i was walking
and dropped these bus tickets
by accident

i wonder who would pick them up
(if at all)

i wonder what their shoes look like
how soft their fingers are

i wonder the thoughts they'd be thinking
when they read mine

----

i slipped once
grasped a hand
to stop from falling

easiest way to lose
a few years

----

i wasn't
and you knew it

----

the cold seems alive
when i open my eyes
and forget the warmth
is missing

----

sometimes there's a mask;
sometimes a ball
with whirlwind skirts
and shining black shoes
mist covered eyes
and the most ridiculous of costumes

seems to be mine

-truth-by ~saturnineguise

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

title = (truth)

[these are many little mini poems that were all written one after the other]

free-flow-fall thoughts

catchcatch

~~love 0 0~~

joy 1 1

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

*gracelally Nov 10, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

^{i agree with whoever said some of them seem to mix and match with each other.
it's nice. there are some really beautiful lines here. c:}

~passionx111 Aug 11, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

This is beautiful. <3

!Atropaean Oct 2, 2010

nice work. Great intro line...and becoming heaviet elements was my fav line here

~londonrey Oct 1, 2010

I really love this!
Even though these are obviously separate, they share a sort of wary hopeful tone that is golden! ^_^ I especially love
"when i
those
it's like
but i
that
i can't
what did
can you
know that
wait"

My brain made perfect sense of that. ^_^

~saturnineguise Oct 1, 2010

I suppose they share a similar tone as they were written one after the other.

I'm actually quite glad that you liked that fragment - in my mind it was mimicking a telephone conversation with someone who eats your words up and says them back to you before you've even had the chance to say them.

Thank you