I Am...

Empty Man


I am everything and nothing.

I wonder if death is an end or beginning.

I hear the wind break bones.

I see the sunset crumble into dusk.

I want to live amongst the stars;



 
I pretend pain doesn't exist.

I feel the light cuddle my skin;

I touch the lips of the sun.

I worry about not having enough time.

I cry to the rhythm of her heartbeat;




I understand why it's easier not to try;

I say fuck fear and love courage.

I dream about wiggling my toes in the sands of mars.

I try to listen to my ancestors.

I hope to chart a course beyond the unknown;


© 2013 abruvanamedsly


6 comments:

Addict


Today for Poetics over at dVerse there's a picture prompt based off of images from the blog of an artist named Leovi...I chose this one entitled Your Love Is Like A Mantle Of Bubbles...
Leovi5


Pain

leaves such a

vibrant residue

as it spreads.



It

bleeds out

across a spectrum

of desolation finding

paradise within beads

of despair sparkling

and fizzing with a

carbonation of sadness

that clouds the judgement

of a life fractured by stalagmites

coated in analgesic

prayers.



As

heaven

becomes a

syringe full of healing,

rehab always seems to reside one rainbow over the spill.



© 2013 abruvanamedsly



Dverse Poets


13 comments:

I Heard...



This piece was a response to a prompt provided by a writing workshop I attended on Saturday...it was based on the Emily Dickinson poem entitled I heard a Fly buzz...




I heard a fly buzz

when I died

but couldn't drown

out the beating of its wings

with the ghost of my

headphones.



I heard a fly buzz

when I died;
 
must have been

payback for the slayings of its cousins

at the hands of my fly swatter.



I heard a fly buzz when I died.



Well, I guess

Curtis Mayfield

was right.





© 2013 abruvanamedsly



Fly Light

1 comments:

2:01 A.M.



The 

words

awaken me

like a bellicose

paramour

at 2:01 a.m.;

tumescent

with purpose

and anxious for attention.



They

roll around

nude on the

dross of salvaged dreams

attempting to find

the thought that will

bring us both to

orgasm. 


Le petit mort always seems to be just one letter away.



© 2013 abruvanamedsly


2:01

1 comments:

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