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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.

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

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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More from ~SkullChicka

On an Endless Country Road The road continued endlessly. There was no looking back. Jay drove on as Mariana slept in the passenger seat. The two had no way of knowing if there were other survivors out there, but Jay was fine. He looked at Mariana with her calm, sleeping face. For the first time, she was relaxed. She had no worries. It was apparent that her dreams were happy and simple, and not the nightmares she had when she was alone in the apocalyptic world they were living in now. She did not need to be on guard, she was safe to sleep for the first time since the walking dead claimed her family.
It was in that moment that Jay knew he loved her. It was her

LostAlone and lost
Barely breathing
In the darkness
Dead inside

Find me here
Near the back
Bring me home
Save yourself

To FlyLost in wings
As sparrows fly
I dream of traveling
Above the sky
To stay
Where the birds are free
Is the only place
I wish to be

FirefliesTwo fireflies lost in a world unknown,
Sparkling lights guiding them home.
The closer they got the farther it seemed,
They felt like safety was only dreamed.

When I Close My EyesWhat happens when I close my eyes?
Is that when They come out?
When the monsters form out of shadows
When the creatures watch me sleep

Is that when the room is the most dangerous?
When shadow serpents slither around the floor
When ghouls come out and ghosts roam
When I feel millions of eyes watching me

I'm waiting for the night your arms are around me
That will be when I feel safe from Them
Hurry up. I'm getting scared

Fatal MistakesHe was on the edge of the universe. Time had seemed to stop for him as the sun tried hard to shine through the dark gray clouds. He looked forward. All he saw was the greenery from the side of the other mountains. He looked down. If he fell he would surely die.As the pre-storm winds blew against his face, he took a deep breath and jumped. The life that flashed before his eyes was not the one of depression and sadness he thought it would be, but one of love and happiness. And as he neared the end of his life, he regretted the fatal mistake that brought him to the edge of the universe.

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Time

by ~SkullChicka, Jan 3, 2013, 3:38:15 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Time, you heartless bastard
You mercilessly tick on and on
And for what reason?
Why do you not ever pause?
Never give me time to think?

I stutter and mumble to keep up
And all because you will never slow down
Help me out here
I look like a fool to my peers
With all these "umms"

And now it is becoming to late
My friends feel the need to take their lives
All because you move to fast
I cant bear to see them gone
Time, you heartless bastard

Timeby ~SkullChicka

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2013 ~SkullChicka

I've gotten really into writing free verse lately. I don't know why though. Just inspiration to do it I guess. This is dedicated to quite a few friends of mine. Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one that has never participated in self harm related activities. It's those friends that made the 3rd verse and my own teenage awkwardness that made the 2nd.

*TristanCody Jan 3, 2013 Student Writer

Very personal, in a sense and I like that because it was the personal aspect which you had which formed the piece. In all honesty, I felt a tad bit of awkwardness at the last line, but all-in-all you have made a grand impact by this piece. Thank you very much for sharing your thoughts with us all.

Tristan Cody.

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~SkullChicka Jan 3, 2013

Thank you for that comment! I'll take the awkwardness in account for future works.

Reply

*TristanCody Jan 3, 2013 Student Writer

All my pleasure! I love to hear that, not often do I receive a comment saying people will note the advice others give.

Reply

~SkullChicka Jan 3, 2013

It amazes me that people don't. I mean, don't they want to get better at what they're doing?

Reply

*TristanCody Jan 3, 2013 Student Writer

Not many do because they have no craving for improvement. Sad, I know - but a fatal reality.

Reply

~SkullChicka Jan 3, 2013

I guess some people just don't have ambition where you would think they would.

Reply

*TristanCody Jan 3, 2013 Student Writer

I agree. Anyways, I am glad you do.

Thank you for the conversation,
Tristan Cody.

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