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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.
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
the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav
He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a
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.
PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint
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.
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.
Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?
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.
SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.
Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain
Riddle  My tears fall,

      like invisible

               diamonds.

 My heart beats,

      like soundless

               drums.

 Unwanted,

       because of the

             strings attached.

What am I?
A Night By the FireNo light,
The light sired by the night
All above whilst the day's delights
Now disappears from mortal sight.

Faded away is the sun's power,
Taking the stage now is night's sallow flower;
Now mortals may behold the stars and falling shower.

Set in a pit Nature's skyscraper ablaze
And revel in the emanating heat as you gaze,
Looking down on occasion when you hear a crack from the fire
And witness "fireflies" flying away from mother's blaze;
Dying shortly after but not lacking burning beauty do they desire!

I look out towards the teasing shore
And meditate as we sit upon her door,
Thinking on what my future has in store;
Who I am now and even
Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,
you'd be wrapped in the sweetest
perfumes
(learning
how to engulf the ocean
with your lungs
and think of how to cup it
in your hands
despite
your broken prayers and
still be beautiful)

dance with the gypsies
'till noon
(a quake in
your hips like the thrust
of continents
and the faultlines
emanating from
your spine,
but still
so, so graceful)

sing with the nymphs
in tune
(your voice,
it's growing old,
raspy even.
your throat's burning dry
like a monsoon
faltering in a desert,

and tones
still octaves
powerful)

be nestled in a king's arms
soon  
(oh, you precious
little thing.
how
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More from ~Trinity17

B is for BeautyBeing yourself
Even though everyone
Around you thinks you're
Unusual.
That's when
You're beautiful.
A is for AmorMi amor.
How I yearn to be with you.
How I long to see your eyes so blue.

Mi amor.
How I miss your sweet smile.
How I wish to hold you for awhile.

Mi amor.
How I crave your skin so smooth.
How your voice always soothes.

Mi amor.
How I want to see you again.
How I pray our time won't end.

Mi amor.
Something God HatesI was told that it is wrong, was always wrong.
I am wrong.
I have become something that you dislike.

I was told that it is horrible, was always horrible.
I am horrible.
I have become something that the world loathes.

I was told that it is a sin, was always a sin.
I am sin.
I have become something that God hates.
We will not fallYou try to obscure our vision of the truth.

But I see past your translucent attempts of blinding the youth.

You deny all of the things that have occurred.

And your foolish attempts are simply absurd.

We are much smarter than you give us credit for.

Yet this is one thing that you wish to ignore.

We implore to you to stop all of these lies.

But once again you try to blind our eyes.

You try to make us believe that life is not worth living.

But we wish to correct your simple misgiving.

You try to convince us to end it all.

But we will strive to survive, we will not fall.
Remember you are lovedI want you to know that when you feel like you aren't good enough for anyone, all you have to do is remember me.

Remember that I will hold you tightly and remind you that you are worth something.

Remember that I will hold you tightly and show you how beautiful you are.

Remember that I will hold you tightly and tell you constantly how amazing you are.

Remember that I will hold you tightly and listen to the sweet sound of your voice.

Remember that I will hold you tightly and feel you breathing in and out.

Remember that I will hold you tightly and tell you that you are more than liked.

Remember that I will hold you tightly and tell you th
I'll be the oneI'll be the one to whisper all the things you want to hear.

I'll be the one to hold you closely when you can't overcome your fears.

I'll be the one to show you beauty when you can't see past your tears.

I'll be the one to guide you when the world becomes unclear.

I'll be the one to help you forget your past.

I'll be the one that will make you laugh.

I'll be the one to make you smile.

I'll be the one that will make life worthwhile.

I'll be the one that will help you get through.

I'll be the one that will always be there for you.

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July 18, 2010
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Unknown

:icontrinity17:

There are those of you who are capable of writing down your thoughts effortlessly.

As if your hands were made to pour out words and have them appear on paper.

As if this was some sort of talent placed upon you at birth.

There are those of you who have to struggle to get your emotions out.

You have to forcibly rip these words from your gut.

You are the people that feel so unknown in this world.

You are the people that suffer daily in unimaginable agony.

You loathe the others effortless ways and carefree lives.

Yet I am here to tell you that you are not unknown.

I have seen your struggles and your torment.

I have heard your screams in the dead of night.

I have wiped away your tears when you were too tired to do so yourself.

And I hold your fragile heart in my hands as if it were my own.

So you see my friend, you are not unknown.
:icontrinity17:
This is for the 100 themes challenge that I am working on.

This is #73 Unkown. I have another one that I wrote for the same theme. So I'll probably edit it and put it up.
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:iconveinsrunempty:
~veinsrunempty Aug 20, 2010
^^; I'm the first sort, the words just flow out kinda raw. *feels bad about it now*
Reply
:icontrinity17:
~Trinity17 Aug 20, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
You shouldn't feel bad about it. :huggle:
I didn't want to make anyone feel bad.

In truth I'm a mix between both. I wrote this in a moment when I was feeling like the first type, even though I am also the second type.
Reply
:iconveinsrunempty:
~veinsrunempty Aug 20, 2010
I mean the emotions and stuff are pretty hard, but the actual writing is kind of natural and almost subconscious.
Reply
:icontrinity17:
~Trinity17 Aug 20, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
I'm kind of the opposite I guess. The emotions aren't that difficult but sometimes their so overwhelming that I can't find the right words.
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:iconveinsrunempty:
~veinsrunempty Aug 20, 2010
I guess there are all different types of writers. :)
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:icontrinity17:
~Trinity17 Aug 20, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
Yep, that's what makes us so great. :love:
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:iconveinsrunempty:
~veinsrunempty Aug 21, 2010
Indeed it does. ^_^
Reply
:iconshelikesjustthat:
~SheLikesJustThat Jul 29, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
I dont entirely know why, but this comforts me greatly.. it sort of reminds me of the end of Valerie's letter in V for Vendetta. Wonderful :heart:
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:icontrinity17:
~Trinity17 Jul 29, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
:iconlovehug:
Really? Thank you, I love that scene, it made me want to cry.
Reply
:iconshelikesjustthat:
~SheLikesJustThat Jul 29, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
same same, i do enjoy such movies, oh yes and the book, but i seem to rather her letter in the movie than book
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