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chineselantern
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Name: M
Country: United States
State: Ohio
Metro: Springfield
Birthday: 1/6/1984
Gender: Female
Interests: jadded poems for the frustrated insert here.
Expertise: being bent.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Art
Message: message me
Member Since:
11/12/2005
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| True self admit it.
Dark thoughts tantalize you in conversation
that border on sin. What to do?
Nicknamed Lovelace, mixed emotions dwell
in a tortured convent next to a spiritless
Flaccid monk.
Passionless, you are in a world without love,
Take your religion and sell it hard
Make yourself into the God you lust after
with hypocritical lines inserted into an open prayer of justification
Escape to another plane
where you are worshiped as God.
Self-righteous: standing with a scarlet letter
Stamped securely on your chest,
you preach your mystagogy,
falling down to sanctify the choices made
and choices to be made.
Is your conscience clear?
We will not listen,
Your piety is insincere,
We will worship how we see fit,
Knowing that we do not have visions,
angel language or prophetic tongue
like you.
We are nothing like you.
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| One Sided Smile
what happens when
the "good die young"?
brillant stars all extinguished
before their time had come.
a boulavard is centered around
the never ending funerals
step in line and wait your turn,
you'll see him on the marquee.
i was a child when i saw him
a first born crush of innocence
but the light that he gave the screen
gave him that enigmatic quality.
he said lines that i pretended
and sang me songs in stadiums,
quick, easy smiles are given
with a blush and smile in return.
too soon, we cried, too soon
a life shattered in the glare of day
too soon, we cried, too soon
we keep our mourning barely at bay.
the longing to keep him singing
or saying things just for me,
is the secret want of a little girl
with a first born crush of innocence.
-copyright 2008 mellissa saffer | | |
| Voices are coming in with crackles on the other line, Further and farther you drive, Seeing only survival on the line And we wait for you patiently, You can see us Standing like stone at the door Waiting for you Like a column of marble that Waits for the sculptor or A drink that waits to be downed in one Smooth motion- Ice melts on the bottom slowly, Like time that passes me by So sluggish and sodden down with tears I wait for you. We wait for you. Encompassed in my Ill-fitting finery and she in her blankets of pink, We watch the steadfast horizon and Will your headlights on towards us. East-bound towards our heart and your home, Drive hard, my love. Drive on. **needs work but comments?** | | |
| heavy emotions weigh
like scented candles in an enclosed space
breathing is hard, but not hard enough
for the pressure to relieve just a bit.
warm gel is applied to the circumference of me
and a black picture begins to form-
form with little, white feet that
turn into legs with bones to be seen.
The marrow is hard but not too hard
and the four chambers of your small heart
is like watching some type of miracle that
expands and contracts
rapidly,
moving so fast, inside me.
you yawn, like you couldn't care less that
mommy is crying and her mommy is misty
with the gentle prospect of, "look what I did, Mom".
Seeing your full lips purse and moving, I am
mesmerized at you, perfect little you,
while stretching and reaching to push against that
strange, foreign object moving around you, watching
your every move. But- I cannot help but think
I see you my daughter,
I see you.
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| its a pressure of sorts
weighing down not only on the mind
but a physical impossibility comes into play.
breathe. just breathe.
but the weight of the mind is slamming
on the shoulders
baring down on the neck and into
the chest
feeling stifled and stiff
like moving is some type of impassible act to perform.
head is bowed and eyes closed,
the thougths and feelings collide
with abject certainty of chaos.
the same thoughts, the same
feelings,
roll over and over with a certain sense
of impending doom. Like a giant
storm is coming, a twister with its
blackened skies full of hate come
racing to you, spinning and churning
with an even amount of intrepid damage and
desolation in its wake.
and what can you do?
what could you do? To hide
in the shelter is to be the coward and not
face these oncoming fears with
everything in you-to charge ahead and
conquer with a sense of self and the utmost need
to survive. Afterall, survival is the type of thing that
drives us- A need to live and breathe.
But how do you breathe with the wind being knocked out
of you, sucking tis way back into the storm?
First off, the need to lift your bowed head.
Inquire and flex the muscles long thought dead and
lift and straighten your sore neck and square your slumped shoulders
with the advancing knowledge that this,
whatever it is,
will not be able to get you down any longer.
The pressure will not inhibit you to breathe,
because whether you believe it or not
you are breathing. you are
surviving.
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