[x]

Frozen.His warm body is
working to rid my heart of
its permafrost shell.

PrioritiesThe Mayans were right
All the continents are fried
Worse, my iPod died

AtlantisOur ships float close under sunlit skies,
hovering above Atlantis.
We claimed the ocean miles as our own,
an underwater district which we would call home.

Drown.
Suffocate with Neptune,
as heavens burst through violet haze.
Your gaze,
splits the nebula, infinite space,
and explosions in a faraway place.

And when the sun should close its eyes,
you'll sail afar.
To climb electric vines,
and lay in the arms of the storm.

ShowerMorning serenade.
Unappreciated. Why?
Pretentious bastards.

Rooftopsdear knuckles,
i love you so.
the day i saw your wrinkles
was the day i stopped being
bored
and the day i realized
there is a beauty in my body
i may not see it in my face
full of freckles and dimples
or my legs, pale and scarred
not even my heart,
beaten and bruised.
no, there is
something special
about the creases
through my fingers
and the marks they make,
so original on their own.

Cops Arrest Death for GraffitiToday, two members of the NYPD have arrested a black-cloaked offender for vandalizing the wall of a Midtown Manhattan skyscraper. Upon dragging them to the police station, they discovered that the person was genderless and used the hood of the cloak to conceal a rather troubling lack of skin, meat, eyes or nose on an otherwise lively skull.

"We realized," officer Jobson says, "that this was not your ordinary criminal - I mean, most of the people we bring over have some identifying features and while I suppose that having a skull for a head is identifying, it's just... Troubling. What do you write in the 'skin colour' or 'eye colour' boxes, y

Cookerymy blender does not understand
smoothies
"Accept My Gift of Pineapple
Thou Foul Beast!"
this is a blood sacrifice
and she is sadly unreceptive

I begin the main course
I have cupboards full of words
See-Jane-Runs
quick brown foxes
I have half a mind (no, three-fourths of a mind)
to sauté them
into
the golden eggs
more difficult to crack
than I had thought they would be
(forge? My stove doesn't get
hot enough,
I think)

I will spice the adjectives with
madness
I will verb these nouns
throw in a voodoo doll or
tulips! Two! Lips!
Crack open a maraca
and sell you some rhythm

Oh you will love this
you will devour th

lit to parking metersteaching literature to parking meters
is a selfless art.

for parking meters merely take,
and are silent.

Translation (Traduccion)Her hips swayed, bailando,
and I held her en mis brazos.
We danced by moonlight, admirando las estrellas,
and the rest of the world faded a la noche.

BlessingMy father strangled a bird
quietly, calm as gravity,
there in the garden. He bent
as if praying to the torqued wing
reddening his hand.

The night hunkered down on the screaming
wildness, on the kicking legs, the abrupt
and awe-filled silence. I watched him
watch the beak open, close,
like rippling lake water.

I loved him, the mercy
of his heavy knuckles, the kindly
indifferent expression.

He closed the beak like a priest
closes the eyes.

DandelionsI remember,
When I was just a little kid
In spring,
I would pick dandelions.
My mom told me not to pick them
Because they were weeds.

"But mom," I would argue,
"Dandelions are flowers,
Not weeds!"

I remember
Not being able to comprehend
How something so pretty
Could be a bad thing.
Besides,
They weren't hurting anyone.

Now, I wonder-
Who is more at fault?
Me,
For judging by looks
Or my mom,
For judging by labels.

But one thing I am sure of;
Neither of us
Gave dandelions
A fair chance.

judgementif you could see the bulletholes,
the brittle bones,

or if you could see me on a saturday,
with a cigarette between my lips,

a handwritten note clenched
in one fist, that contains
only a single word

goodbye

would you still smile
when you saw me on your porch
sunday morning?

61.8% Waterthe veins along my racing heart are rivers.

their waterfalls cascade into my stomach,
and hit the bottom with an empty thump.

waves run along the inner linings of my lungs,
crashing into every breath.
no wonder I can never seem to take in enough air.

the bottom of my throat is consumed by a whirlpool.
it steals all of my words,
and tucks them deep into the crevices of my bones.

the pressure of all these words under my skin builds up,
so that every so often a flood hits my brain,
and all my thoughts are scrambled up and confused.

some days I wish for a tsunami
to wash away all of these helpless scars.

BeliefBelief

She tells him the child is not his.
The old women mutter and cluck
as they slap wet cloth against river stones.
He wraps his arms around his chest as though he fears
he will also sprout with child. "A dove,"
he quietly asks? She points to a blood spot
on her cheek. "He pecked me here." It still hurts
when she touches it. It always hurts.
He loves the child, the cuckold's hatchling. He loves his lying wife.
But he knows she lies. When the old men stumble
into the stable, beards matted, coarse as grain,
he simply mutters, "Drunks," bad wine, betrayal.
One afternoon as he saws cedar planks, sawdust thick as pollen,
an angel catches his

i want you like no one else shouldi want you.
and those words purge
from my lips
like fluorescent moonbeams.

swollen eyes
are darker than they seem
and something was different
in the way you
looked
at me.

it's been a year or so
but the hymns of the air
conditioner
are painless.

and my tank top
is hinging onto your
collar bones
but i don't know
if the melody is on
key.

and ash is spilling
from your lips
even though your
mother
told you smoking is
a breeding ground for
cancer.

will your skeleton hands
smoke me?

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Lost my BreathI lost my breath in the river
Washing over the uncaring stones
Towards the endless sea
To be rocked to sleep
By the motion of the waves

The Devil's Little SisterI'm a thief
And a false queen
The devils little sister

I steal the liquid secrets
From the mouths of sinners
I laugh at this fiery bedlam
And its tormented patients

No one can save me
No one can betray me
I'm love by none
And a hated by many

For I am a thief
A false queen
The devil's little sister

Diaries12/25/12
Dear Diary,
I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing this. But I found this little black book while I was working and figured would no one would miss it. Maybe I just want to be able to say Merry Christmas to someone, I don't have anyone to say it to and who the hell wants to say Merry Christmas to me?
It was a fairly slow day at work today. People don't tend to need me quite as much around this time of year, they're all busy staying home and having fun with their families. Though I actually had to visit my neighbor Mrs. Parkinson today. Shame really, she made the best apple pie I've tasted in a while. Good thing I got rid of my remo

Nonsense?A cluttered mind can lead to the creation of nonsense. That is why one must take it upon oneself to write it down so that the metaphysical cobwebs of the psyche can be swept away. Now clear thought can be achieved what strange things have been released?

Will fair fortune not smile upon me? I desire nothing more than to be able to harness this literary clutter and use to my own devices. To woo a fair maiden or to scorn an enemy. Oh, how I wish that these words that do so flit and flutter throughout my mind allow themselves to be molded, nay, crafted into a form that may be beneficial. But lo, a thought occurs to me. Mayhaps I am not worthy? H

....She held sentiment
Close to her chest
To keep it from the drudge
And the defilement
Of a sweet revenge
Decreed by the subterranean
Schools of thought
That resided above their heads

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Submitted: October 29, 2012
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Sandy

by ~remainingoptimistic, Oct 29, 2012, 12:30:18 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Concrete Poetry

She arrived by early morning train
My lady the hurricane

She swept me off my feet
And soaked me with rain
My lady the hurricane

She took my light
And left me in the dark
Spinning like a weather vane
My lady the hurricane

She left me in fury
And gave only a brief refrain
My lady the hurricane

She ran away on the evening train
My lady the hurricane

Sandyby ~remainingoptimistic

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Concrete Poetry

©2012-2013 ~remainingoptimistic

What better use of tempestuous weather than to use it for literary experiments?
I am toying with using repetition and structure in this one. I don't generally use rhyme (as I'm not too fond of it) but I needed the rhythm.

Let me know what you think

*xlntwtch Jan 16, 2013 Writer

Congratulations on your DLD. It's easy to see why this was chosen. So much is said with so few words. Thank you.

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~remainingoptimistic Jan 17, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you

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*xlntwtch Jan 17, 2013 Writer

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=DailyLitDeviations Jan 16, 2013

Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by =DailyLitDeviations in a news article that can be found here: [link]

Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by

ing the News Article. Keep writing and keep creating.

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~remainingoptimistic Jan 17, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much!

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~WillowPen Nov 10, 2012 Student Writer

I love this. I feel as if it were a classic - something I would read again and again and still feel the same thrill each time.

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~remainingoptimistic Nov 10, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

thank you

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=SilverInkblot Nov 9, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Hello! Just a note to let you know I've featured this piece in my journal: [link]

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~remainingoptimistic Nov 10, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you

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~doublethefun Nov 5, 2012

Very well wrtten

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