In Which I Tell Myself To (1) Survive by Nullibicity, literature
Literature
In Which I Tell Myself To (1) Survive
2. Do not choke yourself with
the name of a murderer
around your neck.
Instead, let it in.
Give it the chance to testify,
because more than likely:
it will understand.
It will tell you we all must
kill something which we love.
But do not let it give you its name:
you, white rabbit girl, grow
too attached (
the house shaved
replaced scraggly rough gardens
with smooth clear metal
cold now the house shivers
surrounded by vain
echoing deep into the crevices
boards aching with
never
ending
marriage is still dependent on the meeting of flesh
joined hands in a church
exchange vows of law
i will love you with the prayerful devotion of our ancestors
swear to stay. make promise of paper
offer the delights of body and soul
share myself for the rest of days
marry you in body word and deed
love you for the rest of our days
Darren was carefully pouring a jug of water into his biology textbook.
“What are you doing?” asked Miss Markham.
Darren looked up at his English teacher. “The exams are coming up soon, so I’m pouring over my books.”
Miss Markham sighed. “It’s not ‘pouring’, it’s ‘poring’.” She beckoned to Darren. “Come and take a walk with me, young man. You might learn something.”
Going down the lane, they came across a path leading away from the road. A young woman in a flamboyant white dress and an older man in a morning suit were just about to start hiking down i
FFM 23: The Lady in Black by distortified, literature
Literature
FFM 23: The Lady in Black
She knows.
The thought had crept in quietly and festered in the back of my head like a corpse. When I finally noticed it there, I managed to write it off as paranoia for a time, but at some point it had transformed into a certainty.
I had been so careful, too. I deleted my text messages, encrypted my emails, and changed my Facebook password weekly, just in case. I never took calls while we were having family time, and I had developed a list of fool-proof excuses over the years to explain my long nights, or the occasional odd scent of perfume or cloves. I had never intended to hurt her. The world is a screwed up place someti
You grappled dragons and slayed gorgons;
you drifted on seas of sirens
to state your name.
Dominions were built with the strength of
mountains,
but moss-covered
limestone
crumbled at your fingertips.
Why is it you never expected
more than muscles to grow weary?
Fretting over fights;
jetties at night
full of skeletons piled high.
Hush the crowd with one word,
always unheard,
they continue to love you.
In your dreams, you wished for recompense.
Their defense: you deserved none.
Nightmares are now escapes from reality-
a quiet confidentiality-
not the other way around.
So wear that badge of courage,
badgered by the current
of the overf
you’re a
temperamental bitch
that moans when I go.
You compare
alcohol
to happiness.
You creep
from throats
& bones
like some
hungry monster.
But Poetry,
language
was invented
for you.
You awoke
a rhythm
between my
fingertips
that still
taunts
me.
You’re either a
vital organ,
or blood.
However, Poetry,
are you cheaper
than the women
in the empty spaces
of my life-
or the secrets
I write
between my thighs?
Poetry,
I am Fifty Shades
of girl.
Why should I feed you?
Do you know
what to do
with my body
when you are merely
ink stained fingers
soaked in passing
& the fevers
conjured
within burning stars?
I didn’t think
a tribute to robert frost by tirasunil, literature
Literature
a tribute to robert frost
I have been one acquainted with the night,
and that has made all the difference.
one aged man--one man--can't keep a house,
but I am done with apple-picking now,
and miles to go before I sleep,
so now and never any different.
"you'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen,
like two kinds of jewels, a vision for thieves-"
can't a man speak of his own child he's lost?
like pearls, and now a silver blade,
and dead wings carried like a paper kite,
nothing gold can stay.
something there is that doesn't love a wall;
truth? a pebble of quartz? for once, then, something.
the clever eyes of my wandering child,
heart not averse to being b