March 2012
fireflies and an old ball jar
with tiny holes in the lid
innocence and pink lemonade
poured from an antique glass pitcher
just as the summers sun goes down
we hold hands for the first time
behind the old oak tree
the one with our names carved in a heart
catching fireflies was only for show
catching you was my goal
i still keep your heart safe in that jar
Open up your veins and accept
Poison filled needles
They make you feel good
If only for a time
Open up your heart and accept
Poison filled words
That make you feel good
If only for a time
Love is a dangerous drug
The Atlantic Block: The problem with humans is... →
zannus:
The problem with humans is that our intellectual capacity, and the telescopic ability we possess, are unguided when events turn. This leaves us extremely forgetful. Maybe more than forgetful, perhaps willfully ignorant of the surrounding environment, including family and friends. Complaints about…
February 2012
1 tag
i spelled out “i love you” in the sand
but it looked all wrong, staged
lucky for me the ocean washed it all away
i wrote “i love you” in lipstick on the bathroom mirror
but it was written in red, and wouldn’t do
lucky for me the steam from my shower made it run
trickles of blood spirals down the drain
i told you “i love you” late one night
and this...
You are the violet in my skin
I mean under my skin
Dear
You are the onyx on the surface
The shadow underneath
Dear
You are my bruised and battered soul
The blood running from my nose
Dear
You are the tears that stain my cheeks
And the scars that hurt my heart
Dear
You were all the love i ever possessed
The reason for my breaths
Dear
So why did you hurt me so
Why did you
Dear
You bend like the stem of a daffodil
To give allowance to my rigidity
And i stand strong as an oak
To lean against when your legs fail
3 tags
star crossed but seemingly lost
on others points of view
but not on you
or i
so why
is timing so wrong
we’re singing different songs
but on
the same tune
in the key
of me
and you
sailing the oceans blue
walking beaches sands
holding hands
but only in dreams
it would seem
life throws us curves
and maybe
one day we
will sing the same song
and hope the tune won’t be...
34 Years
Kevin’s Note: Beautiful poetry, really well done! Love this…please read everyone, you won’t hate me for it! Promise!!
forjupiter:
She woke in the morning hung her dreams out to dry and fixed some coffee.
Scattered about the floor were pictures remnants of rusty memories; thoughts no longer of service.
Clean sheets for a lonesome bed home cooked dinner for a lonesome...
5 tags
Father Figure
Kevin’s Note: This is, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing anyone has written for me…EVER! OH, grown men DO cry fuckers…get over it! ;-) Seriously Jen…it’s not often when we do cross, but it’s EPIC each and every time!! You are SO special to me and I’ve learned so much, more than anyone on here (including you), from you!! LOVE ya Dear!
We’ve...
paint me with your words and your spaces
with the syllables and the nuances
wrap your ink around my soul and don’t let go
scratch my skin with your quill…still
write me into your heart with clever metaphors
that make me better than i truly am
showing me in a good light, a wax candle flicker
on a chilled winters night
with the fog and ice sneaking up the single panes of glass
...
there is something beautiful about the way your words fall off your tongue
and drift ever so softly upon the springtime breezes like dandelion chutes
i make my wishes on these chutes…that i may have forever with you, with your words
our whip-stitch love affair
saved my miserable life
when you slid past my defenses
and stole my battered heart
what wasn’t supposed to happen
couldn’t happen to me
shocked my dead heart to life
and breathed breath into lungs of stone
i am the result of savage love, brutal love
all that i have loved so furiously all these years
so passionately
with all that i am
has left me beaten, bruised and bearing scars
and bitter…i should not leave out bitter
so fuck your definition of what the hell love is
my definition is fluid, sweet from the tap
turning ever more bitter as it reaches the drain
our love now spiralling...
under the willow i first held your hand
under the willow you first said i can
under the willow we carved our initials
under the willow we made it official
under the willow sharing the stars
under the willow sharing our scars
under the willow where we wed
under the willow when we’re dead
under the willow our children play
under the willow to this day
i’ll love you under the...
i only have my lighter
with me in this box
that i’m buried in
i burn your name
in the plank lid
so i will not waste
my last bit of oxygen
because
i love you like that
the moon and i share long looks through the night
like lovers out with friends gaze from across the club
flirting in the opaque light, a wink here and there
she waxes and i wane until we both are full
the soft summers breeze carries my secrets to her
she is the moon, and she pulls me to her gently
then pushes me away…in and out…over and over
i’m in love with the moon, and...
and she wiped her fucking mouth of me
swish and spit down the drain
no time for a quick shower this time
just get the fuck out
one of these days i gotta quit you
just turn and walk away
but it’s nights like these that says that won’t happen
because her ass has me in a trance
and not an hour ago i had her ass in a trance
our love is shared only with the moon tonight
and the moon never speaks of secrets it holds
so until the blabbermouth sun peeks tomorrow
you and i shall have this night…yes we shall
i come for you as you sleep
quiet and swift so you do not stir
the moonlight reveals your pale neck
it is revealed just for me
i kiss you there softly just before i sink my teeth
and consume all that you are
because you are all that i am
Her waves lap and lick the sandy beaches of my backyard paradise. When the chill of winter gives way to the unexpected warmth of an early spring day, the shore of my Atlantic home is the most beautiful place on Gods good earth. All the troubles and tribulations of what life throws at me are whisked away and replaced with crashes of waves against the land. My heartbeat instinctively syncs...
aquietjoy:
mikefrawley:
another time
a former life
she came to be
came into me
my greatest joy
and one regret
too beautiful
for this cold world
far too fragile
the pain of this life
carried her to the next
I hope she found
what she was looking for
I did once
*sobs*
Taking Stock...The Things That Matter Most: For... →
zannus:
takingstockofwhatmattersmost:
For 20 years I lived a block off the Atlantic Ocean. For 20 years I sailed all the 7 seas. Mother ocean is my mother, and I know her well. To this day I long for her embrace and I still hear her calling softly to me, whispering into my ear the song of the sea. I will always have the wind in my…
I will be cremated and spread into the ocean, when I die. ...
http://runkeeper.com/user/stoxback/activity/7209476... →
I figure if I sync this with you all it will provide motivation for me to continue??? Or will I be spamming your dash?? Thoughts?
1 tag
“My angst riddled poetry will kick your angst riddled poetry’s ass!”
– ~Kevin
on days like today
when i’m at my fucking lowest
i know
that rock bottom
is not the actual bottom
there is a…below rock bottom
and that is where i’m at
staring up wishing i could
somehow, someway
climb the hell outta here
and find my way back to rock bottom
i used to love it there
3 tags
Thank you to all our new followers...WOW!! Now go...
~ Rachael, Antoinette & Kevin
i lean into you much as a wind swept tree
bending to the force of you
but never breaking, just flailing about
you whip me into a frenzy
uncovering the inner sanctum
an oak laid bare of it’s leaves
standing stark against the moons elegance
you are my winter mistress
candle wax burns my soul into yours
the pain only hurts as a reminder of the pleasure
a pleasure we inflict upon each other beautifully
our nights are filled with a sinful passion
only quenched by our intense pain
nights filled with this cacophonous rapture
the heat of me melts the cool of you
and in the mornings light
the wax drippings are surrounded by red
proof of our fucking beauty
3 tags
Alliteration Resignation
Kevin’s Note: You write your words your way…but write. You rhyme your rhymes your way…but rhyme. You inspire us your way…but inspire. Do not go anywhere though…keep writing my friend!! Take a break, it’s well deserved…but do not retire.
A reticent rhymer reluctantly writes his world surveyed through jaded eyes
Nimble and nifty, after writing 850 his...
“Poetry is ink and pen…and somewhere to begin.”
– ~Kevin
3 tags
takingstockofwhatmattersmost:
she walks barefoot along silken beaches
alone
save the seagulls
they are her constant companion
and where waves once danced
foot prints mark the recession
the drawing back to mother ocean
drawing her emotion with it
she will miss this
one day though, she will
return
2 tags
For 20 years I lived a block off the Atlantic Ocean. For 20 years I sailed all the 7 seas. Mother ocean is my mother, and I know her well. To this day I long for her embrace and I still hear her calling softly to me, whispering into my ear the song of the sea. I will always have the wind in my sails and salt ‘neath my nails. It’s been almost 6 years now since I have been upon...
1 tag
she walks barefoot along silken beaches
alone
save the seagulls
they are her constant companion
and where waves once danced
foot prints mark the recession
the drawing back to mother ocean
drawing her emotion with it
she will miss this
one day though she will
return
1 tag
“I write because I can breathe no other way…”
– ~Kevin
5 tags
Secreted Sins: Thoughts: On Writing, and... →
secretedsins:
I love writing. I really do. It holds meaning for me, even in times when I feel nothing means much of anything anymore.
Writing has been a companion to me through every painful experience I’ve survived, and has helped me to heal from them, when possible. It has served as the medium through which…
Amen…
this skin is spread thin
as we begin to descend
into the mind
thoughts carried on wind
of those that we’ve sinned
and our sanity we defend
we befriend and begin
our journey into the mind
will we now win
in the end
wind up with a grin
or be filled with chagrin
that will mend
one day
after we journey into the mind
i’m ready to start
just say…
when
1 tag
takingstockofwhatmattersmost:
i want to paint you alive but with my words instead of brushstrokes using ink instead of color yet paint you just as vibrant just as real as da Vinci painted Mona Lisa alive i want others to see you to see the slight curl of your lips with just that hint of aloof and to be able to gaze into the depth of your eyes and get lost as i get lost i want them to feel you...
3 tags
the ache in your eyes breaks me
yet you turn and walk away
leaving me with my heart in my hands
the very heart that you owned for years
and i think to myself, as you become so small,
what the hell do i do with this thing
i drop the now not beating heart on the floor
and close her door softly behind me
He’s always sitting at his antique writers desk, an indulged purchase after the success of his first novel. Norvell Ring was not a writer, at least not in his mind. Which was why his success caught him off guard…to say the least. He always thought himself a hack as he’d never put forth any effort in his writing. Norvell would just sit down and words flooded his mind,...
“I am humbled to be featured in prose, as I’m a self confessed non-prose...”
– ~Kevin
and i touch the center of your heart with my finger tips
you feel the ridges of my prints upon your inner soul
your soul you do not even allow God to see, only me
and you realize i grasp your heart and control it’s beating
i am the reason you are still breathing, my love
constricting and expanding your heart in perfect rhythm
breathing life into your worn lungs so that you may...
i want to paint you alive but with my words instead of brushstrokes using ink instead of color yet paint you just as vibrant just as real as da Vinci painted Mona Lisa alive i want others to see you to see the slight curl of your lips with just that hint of aloof and to be able to gaze into the depth of your eyes and get lost as i get lost i want them to feel you breathe see your chest rise and...
The hardest thing a writer must get used to is the fact that not everything you write will be great. Now that I’ve been around for many a year…I’ve realized that the hardest thing I must get used to is the fact that most of what I write will not be great. When that one great one does find it’s way out of my brain, via my arms/hand/fingers/pen, onto the paper...
spring lurks around every corner this morn’
just waiting for the right time to pounce
and shove ol’ man winter outta the way
spreading warmth and colorful beauty across the land
but i see that spring will be a coward today
as i gaze outside to my snow covered yard
maybe tomorrow spring will bloom
even the smallest pebble creates ripples
you are my pebble my love
i feel your ripples wash over me
the clouds were full over pisgah tonight
and the rain fell in sheets but silently
cool against our warm skin, steam rises
we climbed up the old water tower
and looked out over the tiny little town
soon we would leave that town forever
the town of our youth with all the memories
our swing-set at the park where we first kissed
and mrs. overtons willow where we
first made love, our initials...
i’m a purveyor of passion
a hopeless romantic
according to the masses
those who know me best
so if i surround myself
with the finer things
such as butterfly wings
angels that sing
and sparkling diamond rings
or mason jars filled
with a thousand fireflies
a world that never cries
walks on the beaches
hand in hand
and the pure white sands
slipping through fingers
love that...
your words seduce me on saturday mornings
falling all around me soft and quiet
i inhale them deeply
you are my mornings poetry
drinking you in, i want to drown in you
you terrify me
with the way ice crystals form
from your breath as you speak
and it’s mid-summers heat now