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Starry Starry Night-Inspired by Vincent Van Gough-
And my brother calls, and my mother calls
And further and further into insanity I fall.
But as, on rough canvas, my mind loses this fight,
Through chipped windows still smiles Starry Starry Bright.
Falling skywards, towards the black,
My fate is already painted in lunar cracks.
Down here I am anonymous, nothing’s painter.
I once I sketched eternity, but that memory gets fainter and fainter.
But I know what the sane don’t; I know what come after,
When my mind has gone and my time fades faster.
My fate is already painted in Luna cracks
My soul came from the stars; the hour has almost come where I give it back.
And among darkness and height, anonymous I’ll be no more.
Further and further, I fall skywards, into the night I painted before.
Lost GunShe was born in a test tube, first one to survive.
A fine weapon this one will be, if we keep her alive.
This one will wreak destruction on all who dare stand against us.
We would raise her on utter obedience and blood lust.
Call it unnatural, call us mean.
But we never wanted a child, we wanted a machine.
One who would be the envy of all other organisations.
One who would serve only us and her nation.
But there was a mistake, a hitch in our plan.
Little girl broke out, little girl ran.
Now she flees across the country, searching for her kin.
We’ll catch her first, then all the other children.
We’ll build an army, an entire new class.
Enjoy freedom while you can, child, it’s not going to last.
Run little girl, little girl run.
We’ll be behind you with blazing guns.
Run little girl, run fast, run quick.
You’re nothing but a box on our list to be ticked.
HumanI am a monster.
In the happy ever after
The white knight swings his blade.
Saves his damsel in distress.
He goes through me first.
Eyes that eat at your soul.
Teeth that are made to eat away at
Wings like black leather.
Torn by a man's vengeance, stitched
With a woman's fear.
Blood under mangled claws
I've done unforgivable things.
That was how I lived.
It was simply who I was.
If you can call it living.
I am a monster.
But time is unpredictable.
Even to me.
Became my friend. My friend
Became my reason.
My stubborn princess
Who didn't need a white knight.
You saved me.
People slamming their doors
Is forgotten when I come home
And she kisses scared cheeks.
We have a little girl.
I'd hoped she'd look just like her Mother.
Not tainted. Normal.
But she bore my wings
And sings my laugh far prettier.
I would never have her change.
And Hell will rain on anyone who disagrees.
I am a monster.
But I have felt love that's
ExceptionThere's a troll in my house
Who's lair is so cluttered
You can't tell the bed from the floor.
Her manners are appalling.
She'll never apologise
And eats all the nutella.
Sometimes she's happy.
Most of the time
She is not.
And will get mad if you are.
She likes bugs and beasts.
And doesn't like a lot more.
She doesn't like vegetables or quiet or introductions.
She despises skirts and boys and work.
She really doesn't like babies.
This little troll likes critters more than people
And anything more than babies.
Don't ask her to hold your child.
Don't tell her to give it a bottle.
Tell her to change a diaper and she'll throw it at you.
There's a troll in my house
Who hates babies.
That is a rule.
But there's one tiny girl
With hair like raven feather
And a smile as sweet as silence
Which lights up whenever the troll is near.
She snuggles into the troll's scrawny arms
And kisses her cheeks.
When ever the troll passes.
The patter of baby shoes follow.
And soon the troll picks her up
Classrooms of IronWild cats lurk down hallways
With painted claws and designer book bags.
They search for prey.
Cackling hyenas watch their every move.
Preening their dull fur and hoping to someday run with the
They hope in vain.
In this wilderness, baby gazelles stumble past lockers.
New and confused, they hug their books tightly
And try not to be eaten.
Apes toss footballs and beat their chests.
Throwing slop from the highest branch in the cafeteria, scrawny chips duck.
The apes are bigger, stronger.
Blissfully unaware of their lack of evolution.
And they can continue to perch and throw slop.
And the cats can continue to lurk and lounge in the sun.
This place is a zoo.
And only a zoo.
With iron bar classrooms keeping out the worst.
Where it only takes beauty to be the best.
And the crows who come and go
Laugh as the kept enter the wild.
The real world won't be held in a designer book bag.
All the while, zoo keepers train and feed.
So knowing, and yet an entirely different species.
Bullets in the SkyThe city noise echoes off the washroom walls
While I snatch up the flyer and bolt the door,
And mother is crying for me not to go,
I pay no mind, brother I’m coming home.
As the sun rises in the sky, my heart rises to my throat,
As I line with the town boys, they’re eager for war.
And the soldier looks me up and down, like I’m fool anew,
But he hands me my uniform, brother I’ll be seeing you soon.
From Australia’s arms, Gallipoli we come
Finally I’ll fight by your side, and carry you home when we’re done.
And the ship’s door falls open to hell’s battle cry
Blood paints the ground and bullets the sky.
The bombs screamed for months, this war was our bane
And those trenches were filled with the dead and insane
Rats feasted on the victims and watched as we burned
In a twisted dance from which I pray we return.
Then you took a bullet to chest, and I to the knee
Just ten days before the end of battle Gallipoli
I weep for our mother, to Lo
SuitcaseIn waking up to a kid perched on a suitcase:
“Who are you? Where’s Derek?”
“Not a hallucination, and I told you, he’s gone. You really should have expected that.”
“I thought- I did. Where’s the money then?”
“There is none. Remember, you told him this time would be free. You thought he could love you, that he was different.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. Hand me my dress would you, since you’re not a hallucination.”
“Your mother would have wanted better for you, Ren.”
“My mother chose a guy who beat her to a pulp instead of me. Stop following me. You’re too young to be a stalker.”
“I can help you.”
“Sure you can. Are you going to tell me that you’re my friend? That you can get me my old life back? Save it. I’ve heard it already from the man that isn’t in this bed.”
Week 2Bird song bites at the atmosphere.
Sharp and as unnoticed as me,
Strolling outside the gates and peering
Children spill out of a red brick building.
It sighs in relief.
Little shoes and laughter sound in time with the
Skies ripped from storybooks,
Look down at hair being braided
And balls flying over the fence.
I know the feeling.
Memories just a week old,
Of me smiling at childhood bliss.
Then walking ignorantly
So much can change in seven days.
One week. 168 hours.
So much can
The skies have been ripped from a different book.
It cries grey letters and bleeds in the margins.
They came. We fought. We
The children were their prize.
Taken. Trained. Moulded. But they escaped.
Back to the haven they once
The red brick building stares back at me
With exhausted eyes.
I raise my hands above my head. Don’t
They emerge from the bushes.
Guns raised in tiny hands.
Dirtied faces. Scarred souls. But childish faith
The winds blow and everythi
OutcastsWalk two blocks left,
From the 7 Eleven.
And take a turn
At the abandoned train tracks.
Find the building
That stares down at you
With winter eyes.
There you'll find The Outcasts.
Sit down with them.
Share a root beer.
Don't run away.
I dare you.
You'll notice him first.
Scars on muscle, muscle on scars.
People cross the street when they see him.
His real name was James.
Prized wrestler of the local High School.
Until the gangs got him.
Bet you didn't know
It was him or his big sister.
Bet you didn't give him
The chance to tell you.
Don't run away.
I dare you.
The girl with the
Calls herself Ivy.
You don't want to know
What other kids call her.
Her mother made mistakes.
"Apples don't fall far from tree"
"Ivy doesn't fall, it chokes.'
She'd spit back
Over a pretty face.
Running from the
Not up here.
Here, she calls the shots.
The scrawny one
So I heard you wanted to make them like you?So I heard you had someone in mind
Perhaps something more intimate and
So I heard you wanted him to like you,
And I heard you didn't know what to do.
And so I heard you wanted a friend.
Or maybe just one..
And I heard from you, that you want me to like you too
but how, you ask?
you don't need to try.
I mean I heard you wanted to make them like
Wondering how getting the attention of that special someone works?
or perhaps just the friend, you know.
I'm no somebody and preferably just a nobody but
I heard you wanted someone to like you.
So be You.
Expensive LiesI sit and stare at the toilet bowl.
A guy I know is bulimic.
When we compliment him
I see the twist of agony in his eyes
as his brain reprograms it
to sound like an expensive lie
that costs him another tear
in his tattered dignity.
Friends hurry to him,
to reassure him, to love him.
They tell him how beautiful he is.
We didn't know him before,
but he's definitely not fat now.
We whisper things in concern like;
body dysmorphic disorder.
'I know you'll never believe me
but you are so gorgeous -
not just on the inside.' Not just.
And they're right, I join in,
because they are right to say it
because it happens to be true -
he is stunning. Not just on the outside.
And we want him to see himself
the way we see him, beautiful.
And I join in because
I've felt that strangle of pain
in my stomach, bowels and belly,
when someone used to tell me lies.
So I know how he feels.
Only, he is beautiful on the outside
and I'm not.
He's not seeing reality in the mirror
and I am.
And people rush to correc
BeautyI'd rather wear flowers in my hair,
forming a delicate chain
Than diamonds around my neck,
covering my tender blue veins
For with every precious petal
and every lucent leaf
I'm a living lesson
teaching beauty can not be bought
But rather it grows and flourishes
with every living thought
Fearing MeI'm not afraid to cry
and I do it
a lot more than you would guess.
It isn't always sadness,
I just feel like I need to,
feel everything so strongly
that it's the only way
to let go for a moment
because if I hold on for too long,
if my grip gets too tight
I'll break myself,
I will break you like glass
and we will both
I am a good guy
who hasn't yet found a way
to show it,
I am a good guy
who still identifies with the villains,
hides everything important
anything to throw you
off of my trail....
and I don't know why,
but I am trying.
Maybe I think
that if you could see me,
the real me,
you wouldn't want to look anymore,
want to be anywhere near me,
and the idea
that I can't add up
to be enough for you,
to be enough for me,
is so fucking heart breaking
I can hardly fathom it.
I can't say that it doesn't hurt
because it does,
it hurts a whole hell of a lot,
I've come to depend on pain,
to befriend misery
A Kiss not Forgotten (a special tribute)Like a frost spread across valleys silent and dreary,
ever my longing lost in shimmers of shadow & wind
And days bled into years, the seas became deserts
But thoughts of thee would not perish
Thru memories untamed I staggered far and long;
upon solemn nights lit by the torch of your soul
O’ how deep I miss your fragrant cheer ..
Of warm evenings shared across Lake’s reverie,
watching horizons journey into Autumn’s dream
— wherest our hearts once bloomed a fabled sky
Those passions shared will forsake me not
Lest the Moon would bestow solace upon my ache:
I will lay marooned, haunted by thy seraphic-figure,
Or the ever fleeting caress of your gaze ...
So my soul shall yield to this mythic abyss; –
as I peer from my carriage to Nirvana
And thou away, from my arms, the Sun weeps
Unto eternity—my dear beloved, we are entwined
Forever our footprints cast in golden firmament
A kiss not forgotten in a ballet of light softly falling
I now bear the want
you're just a question marki met you so long ago
but back then our bodies were made of metal
and nowadays they’re made of the blades of
grass and dirt settling
underneath my fingernails.
my fingers are having a hard time
reaching the keys and
my organs are shaking mostly because i haven’t
eaten in two days but also
because i’m worried about the things you're doing to yourself.
we didn’t meet very long ago at all but it feels like forever ago
and you say you don’t know me
that you don’t know anyone
but baby you're turning into a skeleton and i’m peeling back my skin
to try and reach my bones, just like you.
i hope you're happy,
i’m covering the hard wood floors now
the bits and pieces splattered.
they are calling it a suicide but i’m calling it
a way to see my brain and
just how dark it has become, and honestly
i don’t want you to try and see about your’s.
i’m mourning the loss of my heart and wish you weren’t either -
Black hole BulimicThe Composition:
I birth poems — not amaranths
in graveyards — not gardens.
sows seeds of doubt
into skeleton weeds.
A farmer plucks the bones
from Apollo's hyacinth; his
I binge on broken
cracked collectors of rocks,
of pebbles kidnapped
from barren beaches:
where crooked kings
buried in books whose
pages creak to crickets
in an abandoned abyss
of an attic—caskets on
an antiquated shelf. I
choke on the dust and
twitch in recoil.
The bickering sky
A cloud coughs—
The clock's scythe hand
swivels to the beckoning
twelve. Spastic ticking—
each bleak stroke
of a midnight heart.
The sundials do not work
now. The vampires know
I kill poems—
obligation steam machineas always
grinding the cankerous
of your cognition
until the lack of compassion
leaves you unlubricated
seized frozen bound stuck
only then the machine of
your fears will burst to steam
squealing to suckle
at the genius of my
the unsung soiled hero
of middle-class ferocity
savior of the undeserving
winding slowly deftly dying
martyr to the self-justified cause
as love for summer fades.late morning-
there's the tease of
snow in the clouds,
in the air, and the trees
have finally lost their
the sunlight is damp.
alters the room
as it graces my skin,
and for once
i don't wake up right away.
instead i lay
between my memory bitten
sheets, and i think
about all the times he said
that he hated winter.
i don't remember
when i began to love it,
and i don't care.
nothing can shatter that.
The Girl Next DoorThe Girl Next Door
There is a girl, who lives in the house next to mine,
She has a mommy and a daddy just like me.
They love her, I know that.
I think they talk funny.
Yesterday I borrowed my daddy's dictionary,
I took it into the yard and listened to the girl's family talk, through the fence.
None of the words matched.
I saw her on the street, on the way home from school,
In our silver car.
She didn't have a car, she walked alone.
Her shoes were scruffy and had lots of holes,
She didn't seem to mind.
An old man yelled at her as she passed,
He called her 'the child of vermin' and said to go back where she belonged.
I didn't understand.
She had ten fingers just like me,
She wore clothes and laughed and played,
She wasn't funny in the head like poor old Miss Fudge up the street.
There is a girl, who lives in the house next to mine,
I talk to her every day at school.
People say she's different.
I think she's wonderful.
She never did anything wrong,
But still people yell at her when she wa
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