[x]

woods and coffeelimb-like

your

hazel spine broken in bits

with the fern & the twigs

take two aspirins

six strings

synapses & wings

ease into summer, starling

raised up in the winter, darling

curled up on the couch

with the coffee making ripples

in your eyes & stealing

looks from a ghost in

the upstairs

murmurs from the ailurophile

laughing to the sound of you

waking to the full moon

plea to the skinny boy

in the southern room

the autumn left in the leaves

still tangled in his hair

i must have seen you there

still was the storm

in the black-haired girl's stomach

she rose up from the dark of his

arms & found herself sprinkled with

dan

The Rickety RacketyRailroads pull on my lucid dreams;
I wake up and I am ready to go, go, go!

Unknown cities, rank hotel rooms,
bottles of red red wine
-the cheapest kind.

I do not need your directions;
they say I have a hound's nose
-I’ll sniff the marrow off your bones.

Can you hear me, boy;
the rickety rickety rackety?
Did you paint me well, boy?
Is that my face upon your wall?

The ones you mistook for laugh lines
hold my screams, boy.
The eyes you named for dreams
are blood wells for sufferers, for fools.
My face lies, boy; my words mislead.
I am the meanest of the tavern whores
you have yet to meet.

Was I ever young, boy?
I’ve felt old

Street RatAsk for a savior-
desperate pleas to villains

who reek of depravity,
but claim salvation.

You are searching-
blind and stagnant,

finding nothing but filth;
expecting to be cleansed.

Giving, cheap and eager-
a child among thieves.

Powers outI'm sitting in the dark
writing by candle light
powers out
no tweets no likes no faves
Fox has stopped shouting at MSNBC
the world is on pause and i deaf to it shriking
i sit and for the first time
its quiet
and all the noise has ceased

The ShedI am the old shed
beyond the weed fields
beneath the dying tree
with flowers it never yields

I am the rag doll
covered in charcoal dust
lying beneath the bed
where a toy car rusts.

I am your favorite song
from when you were seventeen
but now you're fifty-seven
and you only liked me for three months, anyway.

I am the friend you had
before you found out my secrets
before you moved away and found
better things to do.

I am the shed
skin of the forgotten
there is no sentimental
value on my surface.

I am the dolled up
sins of the wrought and
damaged; you do not forget me
but you still toss me away

I am the unsung
song of th

Life in the blink of an eye.Pale pink, the sky as it blushes,
Purple hazy milieu compliments
The shadows, grey silhouettes,
Flowing figures, pausing and halting,
Repeatedly, with rage, against certain…
Resistance.
Silky abstract-faces welcome you,
Then discard you, lifeless.

Stop.

Gasp! A deep breath of life inhaled.
Pacing about, lurking in and around you,
Mysterious bodies, dancing,
Moving, parading, Inviting,
Reflections on placid, clear icy calms,
Prints embedded into grains of earth,
currents of air, caressing, feeling, tempting

Stop.

Blink no more, as darkness takes you
Into its arms, swiftly and delicately,
Dark-red Euphoria enveloping

dead birds.dead birds litter the street
with their broken wings,
the blood from their claws.
the children will cup the birds in their
tiny hands and smooth the feathers
back into place.
they will carry them to the river,
setting the birds free once more.
but what they don’t know is that,
when they walk away,
the birds will only sink.

I Love the NightNight and day are perpetual to me
Seeking out the beautiful coolness
Of shadows and citric acid
Holding on to the shattered pieces
Of a once cracked dream
A dream of sunlight

Just another night keeping me close
Embrace me my deep toned baby
I want to see it all
Your fears and frustrations
What is the dark afraid of?
I bet it's something silly
Like failure or the future

I'd rather think about springtime flowers,
And brush aside bright colored tones
As long as you hold me close and cool
Along the rivers walking bridge
Hold me as you slowly die
Onl

Hamsterwheel.Post-coital
Cigarette;

White collared
Coffee cup;

Consumer's
'Deep' comfort.

Procreate;
Satisfied.

Expression
Without stress.

A 'shallow'
Man's daydream.

windstorms and labworkafflatus, inflatus, my morning globe,
as lithe as your impermanence.
and home! dread homes! are rabbit dugs,
spoonholed piles of mexican brick
where nothing ever touches down,
nothing here alive receives
the plains’ poor offering of gypsy light,
the ugly wind that meets the mudline.

[metaphors]
1. a mottled fence
2. and how these storms hold faceless teeth
that slat their eyes through butter-wood
then purge their guts on wintered florets
4. some freshly headless nativities,
their polyethylene skirts upturned
from violent sacks
5. and knowing i’m a souless
speck

i lick at what is manifest
beneath your

Limbo (a.k.a. Poems from Work)I.
The machine's being stupid
and her card isn't working,
but he's heard it all before.
He's the kind of man
who expects hurricanes;
he sees the waves
rocketing towards him
and doesn't move a muscle
on principle.

II.
His mind is a prison
and his eyes are on the bars.
They can't keep him here,
not forever.
So he throws himself
against the cage,
knowing that one day
it must break.

III.
She's so young, barely an adult.
Her back bends and aches,
and he hates how her shins
creak and wobble
when she tries to walk.

IV.
He loves
those green slips of paper
as if they were his children:
numbered, ordered, stacked,
worth so

Cacophonyand I am drowning insomnia.

The sun has become my enemy
while the moons sings for me.

And my heart
is full of words,

but no wine.

[A drought in my lungs,
but no voice.]

This lonely poet drags
her soul through the skies
in the hopes of finding wings,
or clouds,

because the stars have melted
through her visions,
irises
widening in daylight

[A line cast in the ocean
and the smell of salt
in auburn hair...]

But no.

I have swallowed
regret
and taste nothing
but bitterness.

The madness
of caffeine.

Dust & rain.

The silent wind
rattling my bones.

A flame flickering
in the darkness.

4 am
and I’m still left with
nothing to s

the arrangement of astral cordsThis is how I'm built up, you see;
stars trapped in the linings of my
stomach and
the regurgitation of meteors
thundering
the chambers of a heart--
deconstructs of kaleidoscope-stained
glass.
This is the reason why my throat
bubble's like witch's brew--
the insides of my body form monsoons that
scratch my lungs and
decapitate my windpipe,
an off-pitched dissonance
like wind chimes
whenever I try to shout or speak or
even whisper.
(and they tell me that you could sing
the moon to sleep when you cast
you faithful nothings on a star)
[and, no, I'm not some kind of genie
trapped in an expanse of dust
rather than a lamp]
Darling, I was never caught between
a collision of star-crossed galaxies,
nor an accident between the big bang
and a black hole.
I was born a star-child.
and, no, they could never be beautiful.
Yet, I could never be as graceful.
I could never carve my face the way
gods do, and

Memoir III1.
Thunderstorm
on the way to school:
roadside tsunami.

2.
Sunday morning—
burnt pancakes,
lined like Jupiter.

3.
Yin-yang cat
dozes, balancing
waking and dreaming.

4.
Cloud gazing in
the rain—tears of the
weeping woman.

5.
Hot chocolate—
marshmallow meteors
in a darkened sky.

LavenderI guess I drank too much
in purgatory, where they
send all the dead babies
and me.

I held one – the crook of my arm
numb and shaved close to the bone –
she cried as I cradled.
I’d be your replacement
if you’ll tell me you love me.
I’d be the shallow part of your life
that no one really notices anyways,
I can be your part time mommy.

Limbo is a lot like a limp,
a little Lolita spirit with those big
doe eyes and no real feel for
the ground. Baby Girl shrieked.
I shrieked. She was quiet.

More and more come each day
and they lay there with their pink
and blue caps, their tiny fists,
their desertion.

I gue

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More from =abunai59

Can't Remember Whyi've liked you for
as far back as i can remember.
i've been through so many nights
so many many nights

out in the darkness,
on balconies,
on sidewalks,
in the pouring rain.

thinking, all the
time thinking
it's just completelyimpossibletostop

so many layers upon layers
of reasons on feelings about reasons
the last thing i remember is
not knowing if
i liked you or why i liked you i
just know that i do
and as farback as i can remember, i can
't recall why

and every time you (vanish)
a little part of me
( ) too

another chance

one day,
long ago,
(it seems now)
a girl, who
might have been
(yet i cannot dare admit)

{ the one for me!
works like a charm!
fits like a glove!
like a hot knife through butter! }

denied me a chance;

the chance to stay with her,
the chance to know if this was it.

and god damnit,
she was right.

she was
[ positively, absolutely, without a doubt,
100 percent, money-backguarantee ]
right.

i think of all the wasted clock cycles
spent calculating();
pondering();
wondering{
(what if she gave me that chance)?
(something we'll never know) : (i'm still finding out)
}

the only ce

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Coffee-fueled Rage

by =abunai59, Jan 23, 2013, 1:07:49 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

fingers blazing away,

while(1) {
taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap; // fingers
taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap; // blazing
taptaptaptaptap; // away,
taptap; // \n\n
taptaptaptaptap; // while
taptaptap; // (1)
taptap; // {
};

insomniacly feeding the page
with characters
words and phrases
clips of code or
poetic blunders

// thankgodfor the [<-backspace] key
// iwonderhow i would getby withoutit

/*
* Maybe I should just
* ~~delete everything~~...
* It would make life
* ~~a whole lot easier~~.
*/

Coffee-fueled Rageby =abunai59

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

...

Information for

My critique:
[link]

Critique questions:
This poem contains elements of computer programming. Assuming that you aren't well-versed in programming languages, does this hinder your ability to understand the key themes and underlying message of this poem?

In addition to the previous question, do you think I should (or need to) include information that lets readers know the technical details of what I've written, or should I leave it as it is, leaving the interpretation up to the reader?

From the perspective of free-verse poetry, do you think this poem makes good use of the lack of traditionally structured form?

Finally, a more open ended question, what did you think about this poem when you read it the first time? ("It was too difficult to read the first time," "It didn't make sense," etc.)

Thank you for your input

Critique by ~Michel-le-fou Feb 24, 2013, 1:47:09 AM

I should start by saying that I am versed in the matter spoken of, albeit not extremely so. It was surely a good and unique touch to the entry, no puns intended. While that added an extra dimension to the poem, I assume it was a poem, it simultaneously affected the general expression in that there were fewer actual words. The submission could work better as a visual poem. I will admit that it is a very unusual and thoughtful work as a whole. I would like to see a culmination of the two ideas as a poem with visual effects like this plus more words, if that is possible. Carry on writing.

What do you think?

Fair Unfair

The Artist thought this was FAIR

1 out of 1 deviants thought this was fair.

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Critique by *prettyflour Feb 15, 2013, 12:57:38 PM

Hey there,

Prettyflour here on behalf of

with the critique you requested.

I’d like to start by answering your questions.

**Assuming that you aren't well-versed in programming languages, does this hinder your ability to understand the key themes and underlying message of this poem?

I consider myself slightly well versed in programming language and I don’t think it would hinder someone who wasn’t as familiar. For me, I think the way you structured this and used slashes, and * was great! It gave the poem a very… visual appeal. It made me think you could categorize this as Visual or Concrete Poetry.

** So you think I should (or need to) include information that lets readers know the technical details of what I've written, or should I leave it as it is, leaving the interpretation up to the reader?

No, I don’t think that would be necessary at all. I would leave it as is.

** From the perspective of free-verse poetry, do you think this poem makes good use of the lack of traditionally structured form?

As I mentioned above, I feel this could be considered Visual or Concrete Poetry, but, of course, Free Verse could apply as well.

** what did you think about this poem when you read it the first time?

I felt like I had drank like… four cups of coffee! Ha ha. It reminded me of times that I had stayed up late- jacked up on caffeine, sitting with my laptop and pounding away on the keys in a moment where…I had so much to get out.

On to my personal critique! Your title is so apt, just perfect for this poem. I like your use of repetition- the taptaptaptap gave a sense a urgency, which hooked me in and made me want to read more!

Ultimately, I totally enjoyed this, it made me want to read more of your work!

I hope this was helpful and if you’d like to discuss, please feel free to reply!

What do you think?

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3 out of 3 deviants thought this was fair.

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!TheLunarDragon Feb 13, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

This Critique is on behalf of

I... I just don't know how to Critique this.
I don't know whether I should laugh or be confused.
It's like the title suggests... I feel like you slammed an entire pot of coffee and then tried to write a poem and then suffered a stroke on your keyboard. XD

I can definitely give this a 4/5 though, this is definitely an original piece and it made me laugh, and I wasn't expecting this at all. lol

=abunai59 Feb 13, 2013

That's interesting; I never thought it would make people laugh, but I'm glad you enjoyed it in your own way. Thank you for you insight!

~goose-fat Feb 6, 2013

This is awesome. I've actually wanted to do something like this for a while!
It has a really clean feel to it, and I think it flows well enough to work as free verse poetry.
(but you left the curly bracket open!

=abunai59 Feb 6, 2013

Perhaps there is an error in your parsing algorithm?

~goose-fat Feb 6, 2013

//oh
//I can't believe I missed that xD

=abunai59 Feb 7, 2013

lol it's fine

Thanks for speaking up though!

=abunai59 Feb 6, 2013

Good sir or Madame...

I do not leave curly brackets open.

*angelenroute Jan 24, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

very cool!

=abunai59 Jan 24, 2013

thank you

~lolijoke Jan 23, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I like this a lot.

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