By Secret Thoughts Within and Vintage Black I am so tired so very, very tired of not feeling comfortable within myself I am so weary so very, very weary of putting my heart back on the shelf Tired tired tired Weary weary weary Comfortable with nothing and weary with so little my shelf life (patience) expired and my honest thoughts are cracked and b r i t t l e Feelings in disguise, yet naked to my eyes tired of dried tears words stumbling in my mouth I’m comfortable with nothing I keep wearing this sad face, walking through my life feeling barely awake I am so tired so very, very tired of not feeling comfortable within myself I am so weary so very, very weary of putting my heart back on the shelf Tired tired tired Weary weary weary I open my eyes stifle a yawn allow my heart to take some chances Some friendly hugs Some cheeky words Some flirty engaging glances Still so tired, and so weary I am Yet I know, with a smile a verse a stream of thought, a nice coffee under the sun I’ll awaken from dreams and all I have lost and slowly but surely discover my heart's still beating— s o s t r o n g *Third piece I write with the lovely Secret Thoughts within - always great fun collaborating with her
Where is her tiny Black dress? The one She wanted to Wear that E v e n i n g A dress of Fancy, Bitter, Sweet and Dark-tinged V e r s e Prose-dyed, Vague-styled, But, still, Written with Her, I n u n i s o n Neither Of them Wanting To die A verse-less D e a t h For this, They together Caress, An achingly D a r k , — B o l d B l a c k — D y e d D r e s s — V e r s e
Fragments of deep verse Washing ashore Yet the lyrical tempest Hasn’t even S t a r t e d In this rough and slumbering, Wetly dry and Wicked, Late summer of slow w o r d s Wake up, W o r d S t o r m e r Have you ever dreamed of such a late, And furious, Timeless, Fateful, Somber, Fearsome, Word S t o r m ? Wake up, W o r d S t o r m e r Sedimented stanzas Washing ashore Yet the lyrical tempest Hasn’t even S t a r t e d Far removed from Self, Far removed From Other, Far removed from Poets— Far removed— Smothered In this rough, slumbering, Wetly dry and Wicked, Late summer Of slow w o r d s Wake up, P o e m S t o r m e r
We haven’t met In real life I’ve barely seen Your framed P r o f i l e Yet your words Illuminate My path Your empath Soul My spirit L i g h t e n s This soft Bright verse All weaved in P u r p l e A wickedly Magnetic rhymer Wielding words With infinite poetic N o u s A great Wing poetess A gifted lyricist— And a better F r i e n d This soft Bright verse All weaved in P u r p l e I gift you back This free- Spirited Scripted, T e r s e , Mild-waved Wild-rhymed But honestly, Faithfully, D e e p l y , All purple, Waved, and Soulfully Written V e r s e T h e s e P u r p l e W a v e s
A g e n t p r o v o c a t r i c e she tried t o b e a n d p r i c k e d b y t h o r n y — p o e m s these fingers, n o w, b a r e r h y m e s c a n ' t s r b l c i b e * y e t s h e 's a d i l e t t a n t e — at a m b i g u i t y she d i t h e r s * t h i s g l a r i n g s u n e m b a l m i n g l i g h t will b a t h e her f r a i l y e t r h y t h m i c m i g h t * she y e a r n s , once m o r e, t o d i v e i n , s i m w blue - b i r t h i n g v e r s e i n l u s c i o u s i n k * t h i s g l a r i n g s u n e m b a l m i n g l i g h t will b a t h e her f r a i l y e t r h y t h m i c m i g h t * A g e n t p r o v o c a t r i c e she t r i e d t o b e and d i t h e r d i d and d i t h e r w i l l * u n d e r n e w l i g h t a b a r e b l u e b o l d , free v e r s e — t a k e s f t l h i g * A g e n t p r o v o c a t r i c e g o t n e a r l y k i l l e d , b u t b i r d of m i g h t — r e b o r n she found h e r * and d i t h e r d i d and d i t h e r w i l l these fingers, n o w , b a r e r h y m e s d o s r b l c i b e * r e b o r n and full of m i g h t i n i n k she t h r i v e s in i n k she s w i m s * A g e n t p r o v o c a t r i c e she tried t o b e yet s h e ' s a d i l e t t a n t e — at a m b i g u i t y she d i t h e r s
these days i feel too mild to grasp life with a mordacious bite i lose my pencils easily and i permanently misplace my pens and pads my words end up stored away in fridges, where i’d rarely look, Alas! lest I turn ravenous with rhyming lust my lazy verses, in arrears, they become tears of m o d e r o b goodbye steam lettering on a hot bathroom M i r r o r r o r r i M
By Amber @Diosraw & Vintage Black We nursed those pixelated lilies back to WordPress life Time travelling the technicolor cyberspace Birthing new data nova blossoming ripples The way our readers would love them to sway and rhyme Forever poetically entwined like old 'net souls, Smelling them, after one hell of a poet hard day's night Those petals never smelled so beautiful, their aroma, yet untouched Frozen in the liquid space of virtual landscapes Traceable as textured blogging stanzas Scented like miniature screen snowdrops, with concealing yet revealing online veils and, O frail and pixelated lilies, interstellar. * * * For this “virtual eco-poetry” (own coinage :p) piece, I bounced ideas back and forth with Amber @Diosraw. Amber’s got a site with hundreds of resources on multiple topics - ranging from yoga, eastern spirituality, science, tech, alternative media, and many more.
I die A thousand Deaths, And cry A thousand Tears Inky drops Become Soft crease— On coarse skin, Renewed Fears I write This very Poem To tattoo it On your Skin White ink Is so translucent— Such a Slight, Poetic Sin I die A thousand Deaths, And cry A thousand Tears If only I’d read this On my palm— To get prepared For life’s exam But fact is, History Tells me, You can’t Read Between Inked lines I die A thousand Deaths, And cry A thousand Tears Profound verse, Quenching Thirst For life— Would tell You about Poetic Strive You die A thousand Deaths, And cry A thousand Tears Some dark Drop Stains, Soft, Wrinkled Skin On book Unwritten, Dark, And stark, And torn, And loud, And Magic, Start. And Feared. So. White. Teared.
Skin puzzle Dismantled In pieces It breaks A myriad of Heartbreaks A billion Blue tapes I turn on The radio My mind gets All buzz My eyes get All blurry My heart Gives a blast The mike Switches on No words Old travail I clear my mind My voice Won’t obey Skin puzzle Dismantled In pieces It breaks A myriad of Heartbreaks A billion Blue tapes They give you an answer You don’t wanna hear It’s sad and So lonely— No place For you here Now ready to go. Please do... Draw the curtain! And— Switch. off. That. Lamp. Steam rises, So hot here! That room— Gets. All. Damp. Don’t want Those Wall poems All soiled, Dyed, Smeared, Smudged Skin puzzle Dismantled In pieces It breaks A myriad of Heartbreaks A billion Blue tapes *** With love to my favourite beta reader; you know who you are ;-)
She was born An electric year Blank was her canvas Gone with the wind A hectic mind And fragile skin Tears of dust Heading to the Gold horizon Electric to touch And buzzing with Flying verse Dressed in cord pants Chunky brown shoes Curls down To her ears Eyes—wiser than Her years Tears of dust Heading to the Gold horizon Electric to touch And buzzing with Flying verse She was born To a bird of clay Blue was the sky Crimson obeyed— Turned cold prey Craftsmen say Magenta pigment Had ran out That day Tears of dust Heading to the Gold horizon Electric to touch And buzzing with Flying verse Paint on her fingertips Words down her eyelids Stardust kisses On her lips Electric blue tinges Nursing her Back to sleep Tears of dust Heading to the Gold horizon Electric to touch And buzzing with Flying verse She was born An electric year Blank was her canvas Gone with the wind A hectic mind And fragile skin
Slowly, slowly, You approach me Little creature Of the night I behold those Fancy feelings Wicked wizard Warm at heart? Slowly, slowly, I approach you Please don’t bite me Let me roam free Lion tamer Suave enchanter Got seduced by Your spider fang Softly gifting Piercing heartaches Wicked creature Golden night Slowly, slowly, You reproach me Swift-tonged monster Full of might I might leave this Fancy figment, Feathered, foamed, Velvet stream at heart I still dream, You— Wondrous creature, Would come, slowly, a n d S o f t l y , D a r k - v e i l e d , B I T E .
I often feel flustered with your never-ending sweet-toothed verses You are endowed with some greatly magical tricks Yet your poem interruptus meter often leaves me all cold and bothered Fact is, I'll never get sonnet-pregnant with your words 'Cause you always pull out your rhymes at the very last minute There is never enough time to come into ode-full moans and sighs My daylight dreams are all flustered and my imagination drawn to ecstatic snippets Lest it get too desirous of your malicious, yet infectiously mellifluous ballads Oh boy— this poem interruptus Of yours