A Simple TransactionThe Devil's kitchen
is decorated in the prettiest
shades of ruby
and if the walls and the air
were not laced with
things undone and silver cocaine
then I would have stayed
just a moment longer
but I came for one thing and on thing only
and this is the Apple of Death
that is corked onto the end
of Satan's knife.
And he eagerly told me the price,
and I told him that I was willing to pay it
and he said to cough it up
or to be on my way and
so reluctantly, I withdrew
my wallet made of The Snake's skin
and it glossed and shined a beautiful sheen
but it wore the wretched perfume
of rotting flesh
and Lucifer hissed
when my fingers touched the firey green
the branches of Earth
and I pulled them by thier roots
and he gripped them with greedy claws
just as I had touched the face
of the Apple of Death
before kissing its black skin
The Divine Mistake.
Stars You breathed in the robust idea of being alone
in the milky way with nothing on your back
but the silk cloth of skin
and you exhaled the heroic sovereignty of saving
the poor polluted starlight,
cradling sweet nothings about how those
luminous explosions in the sky were
the iridescent threads and ribbons
that kept our planets gently knit together.
You told me the galaxy was filled
with incandescent jewels
things like topaz encrusted souls
and cosmic layers of adoration made of
bright celestial spirits.
You had whispered your final
words with the quiet sublteness
of a moon just passing by,
saying or rather deciding that
"Stars are just diamonds with a lightbulbs intentions."
Souls of GreySpirits glow,
Tracing the lines of a dead Heaven
Waiting and watching
For the clouds to swell
And kiss the very seams that
Keep our worlds from tearing apart and twisting
into a hurricane of false "I love you's" and
The very same promises that bound you
to the silver docks of loneliness
where you sat, hands tied behind your back
As seagulls and swans
dashed and danced in the
I remember finding you here,
Naked legs, watery eyes, and quivering lips
Whispering the names of past and future lovers,
telling a tale as sharp as the bible
but as short as the four letter word.
And when I kissed your forehead
I too saw the juxtaposition of ocean and hell
and then realized that
Fire is not so different from water.
At least here, they are only seperated by carbon;
The breath that slips out of
the inner workings of who you are and
finds its way into the world and here
we have the ocean line, the sunset, rain clouds, and wind.
Our souls are too excited to
make the journey
MangosMango slices were cut
unevenly into infinately thin
C's and U's and placed
intimately on the surface of
old love letters.
sweet. tangy. almost golden.
The pieces of the fruit
leave thick, wet, imprints
on the aging paper. Shadows
of rainbow-like smiles
damp with Apollo's tears
or what mortals call
I sometimes wonder what the C stands for.
Is it Copper?
I want to mail the mangos
I want the love letters to be
new and ripe again.
I want the novelty
of giving and recieving.
But I know they will rot
and die before they get to you.
I know you will rot
and die before they get to you.
knicks me right in the forhead,
gets my mind like
the vacancy of goodnight kisses
and it spills my thoughts all over me.
Unsaid words and undone actions
pour out of my brain
spilling on my face
dripping down over my eye
dribbling over my lips
off of my chin
covering your face and my own
in hot, wet
quakes my body like a hurricane
punching my physical heart
making me understand that
singular, selective pain
of the spiny words 'i love you' as
they fall from your mouth,
and it breaks my bones like
tension breaks gazes,
implodes like stars
and allows my rib cage to knife into
my center and tear the red meat
like God's comet of a sewing needle
tears the fabric of space.
I am brought to my knees as
vacuums the wind out of me,
captures my breathe like a
tiger caught by the toe, like a
firefly drawn into a glass jar
that tumbles down a mountain
of superficial wishes,
skewering the air out of my lungs
rocking me back,
taking the torch from the temple
The GracefulThey ate rocks.
What does that mean?
It means they were trying to get back to the Earth
They wanted to return to the soil
without giving up their precious immortality.
these lonely human beings
were willing to grind their very bone into dust
they were willing to digest
the geometric organs
the geographic inards of Gaia herself
if it meant
that they could live
They ate rocks
and it didn't matter if they couldn't breathe
if they couldn't bleed red.
It didn't even matter
if they couldn't love.
these lonely human beings
were willing to bury their hearts in the Earth
if it meant they could live
Paper PlanesScribble the words
and your thoughts
let them be swords
that cut along the edges
no sooner will I read them
no later will I be blind
but if your lips touch
the leafy skin of your canvas
I'll happily know
that there is deeper meaning
let the literary demons
let them loose in
and lights out!
when you're done,
take your delicate hands
Don't stop folding
until your satisfied,
don't stop folding until
you sing your dream
its okay if the paper
cranes cut my skin,
paper cuts are the price we pay
to see a safe haven with
they soar like ships
in the sea with a story tell
a poem to write
and a song to sing
our paper planes.
What A Wonderful WorldSay hello to ruby alchohol
and dream nights
Shooting stars that pulled the
trigger at the right time
Studded bullet holes patched
up with black diamonds
blind clockworks because
men don't know what the time is
Beautiful women wearing
collars for necklaces
hired hitman assassinate
Devil's advocates with
gold dust for breath
Nicotine and morphine
morph closer to death
The light pollution is
blinding the world's fathers
the world is getting closer
and the sun is getting hotter
And Heaven's gates never
seemed so real
when you exhale nirvana
to help yourself heal
Now listen to the records
back flipping through circles
drown out everlasting pain
and sufferage might buffer you
Politicians are social technicians
these temples of bodies
or machines run on steam
make sure to work hobbies
say goodbye to violet alchohol
and wish pearls
and shooting stars that sing
"What a wonderful world.."
SuicideShe looked around with
her head held high
Naive optimism tattooed
on her slick neck
like a noose,
wet with perspiration
She wears wonder
like the crown of
a dead queen
and glory sharpens her eyes
as she asks herself
if a living body still floats
though the mind is dead.
And she pranced down
the wooden path
like a lioness
walking through fire
where jeers and judgements
raged around her like
a boisterous red sea.
Her lips are toxic,
and the words fall
from her mouth
like she was spitting
and her skin froze
and turned blue
because her body
had realized before
she did that
she had finally died.
And I screamed,
because I was so damn
terrified to see
walk to the edge of the sea
but when it was over
I was ready.
It was my turn.
I close my eyes,
and think about
the words you said
"I'm ready to be a
The jeers and the judgement
turn into jagged edged questions
if I have any
I think about
all of the words
AngelsTears fall from green eyes,
a broken girl,
that once dreamed of the skies.
A blue-eyed girl feels the same way,
living in the cloak of the night,
she's forgotten the day.
They were innocent, naive,
and this is the cost.
In the darkness neither can see,
blindly reaching out,
hoping to be free.
blue eye meets green.
Together they stand up,
and the sky can be seen.
Their wings are still broken,
and sometimes they cry,
but holding hands,
together they fly.
It Came From The DarkIt Came From The Dark:
Amongst the ashes, swirling from the darkness of the pit,
Emerged a hand, dragging a battered body across the rocks.
Blood leaked from the wounds so callously self-inflicted,
And teeth ground with a focused determination and seething anger.
It cared not for the warm rubies - staining the jagged rocks,
It cared not for the sensation of pain...
All that it remembered was a dream, An obsession -
One that drove it ever higher; ignoring all else!
Eventually it emerged from this shadowy hole, this dreary depth,
And in that moment, it learned of the truth.
For this creature, denied sunlight and warmth -
-Chen Yuan Wen, 11th December 2012
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Because Being Broken Is Easyi
It's been six thousand three hundred and fifteen days since I have been here and only approximate three hundred days in my entire life I spent with him. He's always busy. He says he has work to do.
It's been nine hundred and eighty-two days since everything started falling apart.
Six hundred and fifty-seven days since I lasted talked to you. You said it was over and walked away without a reason. I watched as you walked with such grace, out of my life.
Five hundred and seventy-five days, seven hours, twenty-three minutes and seven seconds since he broke my heart again; make that forty-seconds. I saw him smiling at her. I should be happy for him, right? But why do I feel a pang of jealousy every time I see them? Five hundred and seventy-five days, seven hours, twenty-four minutes and fifty-one seconds and it still hurts. Fifty-seven seconds.
Two hundred and ninety-three days when she stopped talking to me. I loved her like a sister but she left too. People always
MisdemeanorSome call it discrimination. Some call it an invasion of privacy. Some call it justice. Forty years ago, when they started tagging us, there was a lot of talk about it. There were petitions and peaceful demonstrations, and riots and uprisings in some places. There were lawyers fighting on both sides and politicians kissing baby cheeks right and left – ours and theirs – while trying to figure out which side would bring them more votes. In the end it was decided the tags would stay on, but inactive. This way they don't know where we are until we use our powers. They're tuned in on our brainwaves somehow and when we use whatever gifts evolution has given us, the alarm goes off. Then it can only be turned off when we're at the police station for questioning. I suppose it could be worse: they were thinking of killing us off at some point. But it still doesn't feel right to know it's illegal to use your full potential.
All the law-making happened before I was born, so it didn't f
Stolen KissI wish I was a poem. I wish I could be summed in three stanzas and bring shimmering relief to literature students on dreary Monday mornings. I wish to be the sugar they sprinkle into tea they drink from carnival glass to make them relax. If only they could read and have me brush along their jawlines, tingle in their fingertips like the lit fuse on a firecracker. If they read me aloud I would taste of pureed flowers, frost thin and light with marigold their every spoken word.
(College tastes like burnt bagels and monsters. It’s wanting to run forever, but being unable to move. The lines are too long. Too slow. Sleep sticks like peanut butter to everyone’s brains and lashes. They’re zombies because they know the end is near, shuddering in panic from winter chills and confusion, so desperate for some meaning.)
I asked one of these people, a tattooed girl, if I could taste her breath. “Sorry, I’ve just run out,” she said, hot steam from her sweat misting
Music is throughSoft keys give way to your feather light fingers
Paper-thin cuts rock and ivory like half-molten butter
(you and the barely-there tap of your nails, the eerie clicks that do not echo but nonetheless linger)
convince it to sound like
a voluntary death, a willing surrender,
instead of mere sweet murder
Perhaps you have put this same spell over me
You’d play; I’d listen,
Sitting enchanted and near enough to see how the light breaks on your hair the same way your fingers build and break,
Create and abandon
Cherish and spurn like overstrained lovers
Your favourite was the fresh twitter of staccato notes
Mine, the release of the pedal, the steady thump of a beating heart
The Melody of a Love SongThe way you move me,
Like the melody of a love song,
Stuck on replay.
“Fly away with me”,
Said the lyrics.
As you warm my hand with yours.
As your voice draws to a whisper,
The sweet beat slows.
Chills and goosebumps overflow my body.
And when we kiss,
The melody silences.
But only for a moment.
Now I can hear your heart pound,
Raging to it’s own beat.
Your own love song.
Severed SkinGentle red
With the clotting
For the great risk.
On the deck,
In solemn prayer,
Hoping the next call brings
I try to stop
The rapid rotation.
I never knew a stranger
As I know you.
My words touch
The cold tones
Through the unanswered phone.
Breaking to clutch,
Your camaraderie slipping
But don't cut loose
MyselfThe jar of tears has fallen to pieces, lost are the memories from within the creases.
They've all abandoned me, my silent friends, our bonds have withered beyond their ends.
So predictable this scene truly was, the girl who fell from not a single cause.
Twas my own fault, for I banished all help, rotted to pieces within myself.
Though alas a mark has been etched within stones, "My soul lives forever without my bones."
The Dream GuardianA beauty- in her own world
Roaming… a blue jay between two skies
Freedom carved in the feathers of her wings
Her name was sung and played on strings
Country folks knit stories about her
The savior of dreamers upon clouds
Rainbow paths to get them laughing
Paints and brushes in her hands
Wonder is what her colors do
Creates new music in the air
Paints the sky a brilliant blue
Daisies seem a fresher white
Weaving dreams in brighter hues
Gaze around your vivid nights
Whispering her precious myths
Incandescent, intensely bright
One violet star –the nomad, through
Bedroom HymnsHer heart pounds as he takes her,
And his back arches as she takes control.
It’s a deadly spiral,
One that will lead to angry words and violent hands.
For now though they’re an endless tangle of limbs and emotions.
They say love is the cruelest poison,
And others whisper it’s the kindest venom.
He knows it is slowly killing him,
And she has already accepted the misery.
So she rakes her nails down his back,
And he leaves ink like bruises upon her hips.
Her hair tangles in his crushing grip,
And she draws blood from his neck.
They move fast,
She seeks wicked retribution,
He inflicts angry words.
When they finish,
They fall silent.
Breath is stolen,
Hearts are pounding.
She leaves first,
Just like the rest will.
And he never looks back,
Right NowI remember how it all started
It was a quiet December day like today
That turn into something that I never would expected
But it feels bittersweet knowing it's gone
Or feels like how a child is lost in the big world out there
Just an empty feeling
People say love is a drug
From the start to finish
A high that everything is perfect or nothing can go wrong
But when it is gone, you feel the withdraw symptoms that won't go away
But no I'm just taking it in
Out the window of my apartment bedroom again
Tomorrow I'll be gone I don't know when I'll be back
But in this world everything can change just like that
Caught up in everyday life
Doesn't seem like nobody cares
Walking out seems like the only option
No one will miss me right?
Find myself somewhere else because home ain't what it used to be
Mom and Dad were fighting about everything
From dishes to who is looking after the child I had
I didn't know what to do
But no I'm taking it in
Out the window of my apartment bedroom again
The T.V is o
Don't Be Like red WineA lie
Is like pouring red wine on a white sheet
It will keep spreading
Till it can’t spread anymore
Do you want to be like the wine?
Or do you want to tell the truth
And deal with what comes from it.
InconclusiveAnd you were twisted with the potential of a goldmine
You were ink black and addled and you had your
fingerprints stained into tiffany vases and prodigality
And I forged all my sympathies, signed strictly apathetic
While you were in the guise of composites and bleached knuckles
Aphorisms never meant as much to paradigms or gritted teeth
but I digress; I crafted men out of plate tectonics
Ninety degrees from your contempt and
At the rinds you will find plaster and
thirty molecules of carbon and
Don't you ever want to be the one to split the world in two?
You reassure me that your only certainties are relevance and Catch-22s and
You bled sulfur through your fingertips and your laughter was like
mile-long shadows and nonexistence.
Screaming EmphasisI lost
Thirteen pounds of anxiety this week.
Body melted, melted
fingers slipping chartreuse
I am full of slipping
chain-link gums give me lead poisoning
body, gums melted, chartreuse
I, toxic, lick lips neon green
Arsenic tongue dart to nails --
Dirt, dirt, dirt, more dirt --
and thighs stuck hot against plastic
I cannot hold a pen
CANnot write eloquence or beauty
Hand skitters through page
TALKing I need silence I need
need, need, need, more needing
crushed under necessity-
The spaces of my ribs are where
my skin hides its bruises
feel like stealing-
taking hunger into my breast
full of slipping,
I do not breathe but static
Anxiety in Morse Code
we do not-
what SPEAKS makes sense
we do not-
Thighs stuck hot to the seat beneath me
Bones in my aching hand quiver,
wrapped around archaic ideals
why do they touch why do they --
Broken Hearts Still BeatingThe lightning-spliced sky illuminates my bedroom
and I'm crouched in the corner, embraced by the dark,
thinking of how there could have been a chance
for me to wake up next to you, your emerald eyes
webbed with emotion, your body limp
from jerking in your sleep. I imagine ruffled sheets,
broken lamps, and permeating heat.
I think of how we could have jogged together
along roadsides and doubled over with thorns
in our ribs at your feeble attempts to whistle Dixie.
I'm collapsing inward, reminiscing on the truths
I should have told you and how every boy I pass
has your face, your dark brown hair, your lips.
And I cry. Oh, do I cry.
I saw you hunched over one day, exhausted
from nightmares, sipping Gatorade and reciting
poetry about there being beauty in decay,
and I couldn't help but think that you
were living proof of that phenomenon.
I wanted to cry for you and tell you about that time
a lady ran into me at Barnes & Noble and I'd had
no earthly idea that I was alive until she turned ar
The Birth of WaterThe clouds swelled and strolled across the sky like great grey whales making an annual trek across a placid black ocean. Wind, the force that was herding the clouds along, was also nipping and pinching frigidly at the bare skin of my back. The skies blinked once--twice in a row, a three second show of purple light. My head tilted back, my eyebrows lifted like kites on my face. I watched the sky with eager longing. Another flash of purple lightning. Mother Nature was teasing me. The clouds were pregnant with the ocean's child, and I was humbly waiting, shirtless in the parking lot, for them to give birth to the desert rain.