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GhostwriterI adore the war in your words,
I seek the alliteration,
Clusters of spectacles,
While you sit there wasting.
An image painted with a translucent touch,
Movement in a dimension I can never muck,
Yet the mosaic of your life comes only in black and white,
A hint of grey-scale, then out goes the lantern light.
You are poor in physical dimension,
But rich in mental dilation,
As you carry this burden you are offered no solace,
A troubled writer just finding his place,
I am just assembling the facts but there is no case,
This unseen talent will be a statue,
A martyr of matterMy mind,
A quench for thought crafts a dryness that dissolves over a day,
The demand hides in plain sight,
But I still try to keep it at a bay,
The curse of free will obtrudes my belongings,
Feeling mugged with everything at my side,
What will I gain from it?
A puzzle without a tactic,
I feel Confusion in Confucius,
Faith becoming religulous,
Age coming from protracted abortion,
Destruction carrying pressurised suction,
It's a matter of mind,
We all have a play.
Kanye's Mind.. .I aint no scientist
So Im not gonna stretch this
With any emphasis
But what is mycosis?
It sounds so ferocious
Like I better be cautious
But the feeling too nauseous
Trapped in a metamorphosis
They call me Dr. Atrocious!
Man, they all loafers
I'm such a boaster
Acting all Hollywood posters
I'm all about..
Blowing out bombs
While you nuns gettin number ones
Man whats wrong?
Dude this look like a song?
I aint got a story to tell
Just a tale from hell
Cos that's where Im at
That's how I rap
They devil's on my earlobe whispering
Nah I aint a rat
I'm just an English prat
In need of cataract
Living on crack
Begging for a new contract
Representing the single sickle cell syllable
Hearing kids singing
Why ye' chat so gay?
Im now in a land
In need of hearty nourishment
Biscuits are a punishment
I not got a front
Was dyslexic from the start
Now masking the irrelevant
My mind's so full of fun
BenignityLet's escape this inception,
Find our own direction,
It's interference versus natural selection,
With the arrangement resembling an infection,
Some may hide through deflection,
Some stand for election,
All are run by atoned affection.
We are encapsulated by this correction,
Covertly fighting for detection,
Bridging traction through linear-interpolation,
Hoping to create crashing waves of adoration,
Gasping for the correct equation,
Rarely finding the elation,
Instead we travel a malignant path to unify ourselves in a foreign nation.
A name like so many,
But one of a kind,
A kindred spirit,
Yet a converging message they find.
An abundant loss for many,
Scarce gain to a few,
The power remains on the passenger side,
Everything else is subdue,
Twas purely a curtain call,
Shouting for you.
There is no encore,
Just a disappearing act,
They remain mystified,
Scrambling over fact over fact.
This still seems so fictitious,
Like a terrified knight's tale,
Now five years to the day,
Never will they be short of a cry.
Be kind Vinder.
Let the wicked weather be swept aside,
They still have countless days,
Albeit with a dented pride.
Dark ProphetI feel the need for complexity,
Simplicity is encircled in weakness to me,
I will write this damning self-prophesising anthology,
Without being tamed by the terrified id in me,
You have lost all life now let the super reside,
For it is he who is in power,
That has the right to devour,
I am God,
I am the saviour, the malevolent, and the sinner,
Witness my behaviour as I cry tears of a victor,
My light is so indistinct that it eludes most senses,
The darkness will prelude all human defences,
I feel nothing but despise,
Find the truth in my eyes,
I am a prophet,
Make of it as you want.
Non ameAll I ever want is to break free,
I have a life waiting out there for me,
My disillusion is mere devolution,
It's my time to shine,
For I have little time to claim what is mine,
My selfish tracks will support many acts,
But with the circus you'll all fade,
Go home and leave this renegade.
My eye is always on the prize,
You'll be mine,
I have seen many times that same sign,
A compass with no arrow,
A traitor with no allegiance,
A stopwatch without the stop,
I cannot believe this,
It is ticking,
I am brittle now,
I am thinking,
Is it all over now?
ChristianHis death came in 96'.
He was a rolling stone crack baker,
His life repeatedly raped as the sentences passed by,
Lifting child hood memories that could make the Brooklyn streets seem shy,
The Friday beatings were to perfect an inmate's Sunday golf drive,
His colour often changed,
He stood at neither side of the racial divide,
A loner in all his years,
He learns he was mistaken,
But stays away of being eternally forsaken,
Cometh last September breeze he could finally awaken,
Open his eyes,
He has now no disguise,
Not anymore a cocky Caucasian,
It's poetic irony he carries the name of the son,
Tested and crucified,
He often laughs before he cries,
One more day is bliss,
He can now make it what he wants of this.
End.His eyes are round and swollen,
Has been many a year that the fire has all but faded,
Emotion is strife but only for him to see,
A life just living to end at a plea,
A bargain that cannot be reckoned,
For he has not the strength to succumb,
A hope in a wish,
That is all that he can fare.
Once she came by his side in prayer,
For just the heat made it all clear,
A resounding clause to his expired contract,
A recurring ring rising to a rhetoric question,
An euphoria which made it again all well,
Enlightened by the glistening sprinkles of sparkling spell.
A soft surge in his eyes,
Before his almighty blows out the night sky,
Are they together all fair and well?
The mystery of passing is but an end of misery for him as far as we may foretell.
stupid love poems for stupid boys.he was the
smoke in my
saved for when
i'm so lonely
that i cannot
but the problem
with giving your
heart to a boy
with a pack of
for ribs is that
he will want your
well– and after
all that blood and
blue lip kisses,
he will leave you
with a coughing
lighter and a
burnt tongue (but
it's really a great
Soles (Forest Girl)Soles (Forest Girl)
i didn’t believe in carving initials into trees.
i always told you that was corny to me.
i told you i was a city boy,
comfortable in car drafts
and gleaming lights
that dilute natural shine.
to the sight of airplanes,
police cars and helicopters
than anything else.
but you dreamed of wings
so much bigger than aspect ratio,
so much wider.
you were higher.
so that day you took me there,
i knew i was out of my element.
your forest stories teased me;
sitting on the edge of your shoe soles.
and that riverbank that you tiptoed on.
little smirk always flashing your white pearls
when you were whisking through this place.
holding my hand in a tight grip
as you gave me a tour of your hidden burrow.
i had never been so in--
and out of place before.
the atmosphere was brisk
glancing the hairs on my neck,
goosebumps rising on my skin
as i swore feathers fell from your shoulders.
purple streaks nuzzle orange bands
that hold together golden twines
The Cracks Of RealityI traced the tips of my fingers over her porcelain
Felt the skin raise in bumps of sensation.
My mouth fit so well into the crook of her neck
And as her her eyes closed, her breathing shaky,
I found myself swallowing and my heart beating twice as fast.
As her hips rolled into me, as her nails clenched into the sheets,
She told me once more that she loved me, and I assured her I felt the same.
But then reality came, settling into the cracks of my fantasies.
And she slipped from my fingers.
And I was alone.
homesick for childhoodshe was a carefree little girl
with smiles hidden deep down
in her pockets, and she'd only
give them out to the most deserving.
when the quarter hour of her life
struck, however, things changed.
her world was painted black
on accident, millions of shades
turned ashy due to a sickness
that breeds on those empty
spaces between words.
she was dropped into summer
covered in homemade scars,
and with summer, her innocence
was eaten away.
pinned to a bed
like prey, she watched herself
consumed into another
(this world is the 7 a.m. frost
left on winter windows.
and it scares me)
the days spent on the front stepsevery time you rip the lid off
the shell of styrofoam
questions your motives.
every secret you whisper into her naphthalene
stays there. it dies a little
as protein is scrambled. home is not a place.
her curve is ejected
as unidentified. it is bile
rolling back, the sheet of ebbing tide.
you always speak of horses
armoured, whisky clattering on their breath,
kingdoms burning and knights
riding off into the valley of deep sleep
you always speak of ships
leaving, pearly cord
as a farewell extending from coast
to hull forming an image of crying Mary
it shines in front of you
it calls out your name
but he loves meshe says, "sweets, pay attention:
just because he kisses the bruises on your skin,
don't make up for the fact he gives 'em to you."
untitled.these boys and
lips split, eyes
turning gold in my
i watch them trace
this is where
come from– and as
their road ways, i
e y e l a s h e s
in such a way that
stories fall out of the
when the day is done i'll be goneIn my fingertips is the devil
Daring me to touch what is not to be touched
And I care not, reaching through my own open ribcage
To touch what lies between inflating balloons that are my lungs-
In my ears echo your voice,
Begging me not to reverse the corruption in my heart
And I care not, reaching between my lungs to grasp my heart with my inked fingers
To release the sigil stitched deep into the veins of my heart.
Neutron StarPoetry alights on my heart like dew.
I wake up on a cloud
and the silver lining is my sun
shooting insight into my star-crossed eyes.
I swallow it with a dose of daydreams:
take as often as needed,
which is often as much as the Milky Way wants,
The cosmic doctor comes to visit
laughs at my insecurities
and cries at my confidence
and spins me around on my axis
until my cloud settles on my skin
where I'm fallen and nestled in bleary morning wildflowers
And the supergiant gone critical
and the moisture sapped from oceans of hope
in my verdant blanket.
I burrow deeper
into waking aether
pluck a quill from a dazzle-bird drifting by,
and sticking a spile into the skyflowers,
I pour my lifeblood ink
onto papyrus laced with whimsy.
The SnowballThe snowball gathers its flakes one by one,
Allegiant forces can be harder undone,
A mesh of sleet is all that shall become.
Parting gravity is our utmost fight,
One which provokes an enduring delight,
A shimmering sparkle against the arctic air,
Can a snowflake ever guest appear?
Dissect its ends with a Spartans spear?
Or does it become the one that tried,
Crucified and simply tossed aside.
I can see the future now,
Snowball I have made my decision you cow.
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More