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Under a Witches SkyAnd lo there he said: "I am darkness rising"
— ‘an apparition bleeding into a dreaming sky
Distilled in the timbre of windswept voices,
black feathers enchant earth in fevered-song
Magick ebbs & shimmers thru earthen veins,
seething like a migration of hungry wolves
Silvery eyes peer, drinking the ether of souls;
watching the spirit world fold into the mists
And where Shadows and Witches conjure,
— myriad talons beshrew Winter’s prayer

For eons I hath wandered in forgotten lore
— a sleep walker thru ash & fire, hunting ..
Beneath Moon solemn and drifting,
I covet thy ghostly figure velvet, undressing
Pools of

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.

SpeakeasyI can feel you like a phantom,
sensation without touch,
like breath in winter
or a misty mountain morning
that stays with me
until the stars fall in evening.

Your eyes contain the secrets
your lips would dare to betray,
but your body tells the story
and I am trying
to read between the lines
of your paperback smiles.

A grazing touch, a covert glance,
the memories remain
as skin grows warm and red
beneath lying fingertips
that claim incidental contact
a thousand times a day.

Of course,
it's not the kind of thing we say
when we are speaking
without talking and feeling
without touching
and thinking without knowing...

all of the things

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

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.

WindowsHere am I, repeated,
and beyond waits everything
but everything is more
than I can bear.

I am not built for altitude
nor looking far afield;
groves and granite-sided mountains
stop my gaze

like rest for every tired wing;
a cover in the coldest time
snugged up beneath my chin.

Windows nothing more,
but safe lies there behind them
as the chambered hours pass;

safe sleeps there behind them
on the soft side of the glass.

We Can't Be Together.Every kiss you plant on my lips,
Takes a little bit of my soul away.

You're stealing the passion,
You're invading my heart,
And killing what emotion I've left untouched.
Stop this.
I can't love you.

I've tried to before,
Oh my god,
Have I tried.

Tried to unlock the doors to myself,
Tried to open up,
And let you in.
But as soon as I took one look,
Negativity took it's opportunity,
And struck the hot iron I'd been molding.

Every word you mutter
My knees falter under
You're killing me

You're my kryptonite
I'm your paradise
But in this odd peace that seems to be approaching
I can't find happiness.

We aren't meant to be together
But this

Poet as PainterThe world
Your dusty palette,
The pen
Your muddied paintbrush:

Dip into
The impossible
Colour
Of imagination

And stain
The pristine slate
With an
Image distilled.

BoyfriendI thought you were good.

You WERE good.

You played with my hair.

You held me when I cried.

You were a gentleman.

You made me laugh.

You kissed me.

You loved me.

I loved you.

It was then that I learned the truth.

The dirty, rotten, stinking truth.

About you!

You cheated.

You played with her hair.

You kissed her.

You loved her.

You made her laugh.

I saw you – don’t you dare deny it.

I saw you giving her that love.

That same love you gave me.

I break up with you.

You don’t even seem to care.

Did you ever love me at all?

Or was it only ever her?

Much later, you’ll realize what a mistake you made.

I

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.

Dry Spell I am immobilized by time.
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
fleeting,
evaporating
through the cracks of
my fingers and high

above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
words,
silences,
or actions
could possibly satiate it.

I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
or stretched
so far
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devo

untitledGold abundant at your feet,
Heart ripe and pumping on your sleeve,
And eternal admiration;
To say happiness has evaded you
Would be asylum-esque lunacy
For you have nothing to lose,
Fate is on your side,
The odds are in your favor infinitely
Do not waste the gift you’ve received

You Don't Know ItYou don't know it, but you kept me sane
I nearly went over the edge
With a knife in one hand and a gun in the other
But you grabbed me
Pulled me back on my own two feet
Emptied my hands
And when you realized that I couldn't stand on my own
You hugged me
Like a mother would do for her child
Like a friend would do for, dare I say, another friend

You don't know it, but when you saved me
I felt free
I felt wanted
I felt needed
I felt, dare I say, loved

You don't know it, but when you showed me kindness
I fell in love
In love with your kindness
That same sweet kindness you saved me with
It felt like I found a new home
One that I could be, dare

Pull Her Hair/Stare At The StarsThe ghosts have crashed their ship
on the other side of town,
you can see it from the second floor
all the way over here.
You can see the white clouds
rising from the wreck
and a nova of heat, a big bright
nova of warmth pulling the moths and wolves
out from the woods (with their noses up and searching).
You can smell the yearning like bees
leaving the hive, like the grizzly brown bears
on the jagged white mountains (concrete and imposing).
They call it fear,
but I see these ghosts
scrambling up into the sky
and I like to think it's
something different entirely.

clicheTo those who hold bird bones
on the edge of their limbs,
there are dissipated lungs
filled with skies
longing for pillars of fire
rather than bottled souls
kept in the brink of captivity
too big for sparrows.

To those with the cancer
of building and rebuilding
their minute sentences
into salt-shaken metaphors,
sometimes a whisper
trying to be a rhapsody
will never be the same as
a declaration,
an aubade on it's own.

To those who empty
their ash trays
like cremated dust onto
salivating pores and
two cents of syllables weeping
by your windowsill,
there's sand in your mouth.
sand so red that oxygen
will mistake it for blood
so your words wi

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Marlboro WomanWhen she smokes, it's a sign of things to come
From a place that's dark inside her soul
And when she drinks that sharp, sweet-tasting rum
Her demons come out for their nightly patrol

When she smokes, it's a sign things will go wrong
'Cause she blackens her mind with her lungs
And when she reaches for whiskey, it surely won't be long
Before e'eryone else is holdin' their tongues

For dear life
For my life

When she smokes, son, don't wanna get too close
She's just better off alone
When she gets another shot glass, they all suppose
She was just born accident-prone

All her life
And mine

The Sweetest RevengeTake a good sip of your own
Bitter medicine
I'll watch it swirl 'round
The drain of your throat
And gloat in the throb
Of your bobbing Adam's apple
While you swallow your words
And your damned pride.

Dirty LaundryLoading up the washing machine, and my mind is sprawling around in several destinations far from this cramped room. I spritz my clothes- no, actually I drench them with that spray- the kind that's supposed to work miracles on any stain before the affect fabric even goes in the washer. This was my favorite shirt. My favorite shirt. I'm just not thinking today, am I?

The cotton feels good on my fingers, even though I'm stuffing it roughly into the machine. And all the towels...I didn't learn it until I'd moved out, but Mom was right: washing towels and clothes in the same load led to an outright ungodly amount of lint stuck in everything. I pa

ImpenetrableI want to be so painted with words
That no light ever shines through
I'll build a wall of negativity
And never let a soul in
They can look at the ugly words
And see for themselves
And walk on by
They can add to the judgment
Mortar piling on the stones
And the bright red letters will
Always be visible
And no light will ever shine
In on me again
Because these words are better defense
Than any attempt at honor and validity
I'll be subhuman if it frees me
From human feeling
Because hope was the worst thing Pandora gave me,
Encouraging me to bear weight far
Beyond my strength
So, little fly named Hope, look well
Upon my wall o

A Love like MethadoneI tried every addiction to cure me of you.
Each delicate cocktail, each over-powering brew
And the result was never anything new
Because there's no addiction that can cure me of you

I've toyed with alcohol and cigarettes
Tried gaming and eating and other regrets
But nicotine smoke is nothing compared to the scent of your sex
And your gaze smolders more than my last cigarette

And I hope you'll forgive me for being so bold
And for being hung up on a story so old
That the poets who first spoke it have long since grown cold
But they knew what I know: that pain makes one bold

I'll try any addiction that cures me of you
You say it's hy

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Apologies

by ~Clockwork-Love, Apr 18, 2011, 5:47:21 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?
How many times will it dribble from my mouth,
Slide down my lips and collect on the floor
Before you believe me?
Before I believe me?
"Don't apologize" is easier said when
You can't see the mistakes underneath
After a while, you give up saying it
Because it's not your mantra
It's mine

Apologiesby ~Clockwork-Love

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2011-2013 ~Clockwork-Love

Haven't submitted anything in a while. Just a little piece of something.

~ChaoticBloodflow May 5, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

Another really amazing writing of yours, you're very good at bringing out emotions, watched for sure

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