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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.
Dandelion QueenI dream of the ocean;
that paper-thin line where
the current swallows the stars
and the water churns violet

(you tell me to be
quiet,

dandelion queen, we've
heard all these words before)

tonight
I will sleep heavy
and wake a few hours before dawn,
only to forget my name

my wave-weathered heart will cry,
I will cry (my biggest fear
is drowning in too many
of my own weighted words

you tell me to be
quiet
so I can hear the world breathe)

I want to go home
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.
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 ~PhoenFox

BriefsI would like to see your briefs!

You see I have found that your briefs do not appear to be on moodle!

So I wish to see them immediately!

Now don't argue with me!

I only wish to see your briefs!

Otherwise how else will I be able to do my work!

For without seeing your briefs, I am completely stuck!
Stuck on a NameNames,
Names,
Names!

It's always the names!

No matter how much I write,
It is always,
Always the names!

They always halt my progress,
I can't move any further.

The name must reflect the person,
It must explain something that words cannot,
It has to be different.

But what?

What could it be?
I Feel So Close To You3000 miles away,
And yet I have never felt so close to anyone before.

It feels like I could reach out and hold you,
I can feel your warmth,
Your heartbeat.

And I don't want to feel any different.

We are bound together by an ethereal force.
No FearYou've mentioned it a few times,
And I've taken it on board,
I know what it means.

But you know,
It doesn't scare me,
Well not as much as I had expected.

It's only natural to feel a bit scared,
If not then we wouldn't be human,
But I feel,
I feel safe.

With you,
I feel safe.

And it all just feels so right.
My Story of FallingThey caught me off guard,
My façade was down,
There was nothing I could say,
That would change what they thought.

They knew now,
They knew how I felt,
It was plastered on my face,
The sorrow,
Mixed with pure insanity.

It all happened so quickly,
They sent me away,
Hoping I might change,
But they knew,
They knew I wouldn't,
I couldn't.

It was too late,
I had already lost it,
Lost everything.

So I became one of them,
The people I once despised,
I joined them,
I watched as we drained the colour,
Turning everything to our perfection.

I saw more people changed,
Their eyes so dull,
So cold,
Just.
Like.
Mine.

So thi

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December 11, 2012
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Stuck in my Mind

:iconphoenfox:

I have to say sorry to your face,
My mind just seems to want to wander,
So I'm not sure what you are saying.

I'm stuck in my mind,
Lost in my dreams,
Controlling the world around me,
With a scatter of impulses.

I have to apologise,
I don't know what's come over me,
I seem to be so lost,
I can't escape.

My mind reels through the memories,
The insanity of the world,
I come up with ideas that I can't express.

I'm stuck in my mind,
Lost in my dreams,
Imprisoned in my creative cloud,
Unable to tell you what I'm thinking.
:iconphoenfox:
You wouldn't want to be stuck in my mind, it's chaotic in there!
:iconarachelle905:
~arachelle905 Dec 12, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Chaaaaoooos. -cough-
Reply
:iconphoenfox:
~PhoenFox Dec 12, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Chaos is fun!
Reply
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