100ThemesChallenge - Two RoadsYou are well within your rights, at any moment, to stand up and say, "No, this is not who I am. I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone I'm not."
You can make the world more beautiful by simply refusing to lie about it.
The Inked BladeJust as painters live for their artwork, poets live for theirs. But for a writer it is more so. For a writer, the writing will take on not only a life of their own, but a personality, a whole separate soul. A writer can converse with their pieces, argue with them... Feel jealous of them. Sometimes you might tell him his words are beautiful, and you'll see a shadow briefly cross his face before he responds with a 'thank you' and a smile, stretched too tight. Eventually, he'll become angry at his work. He'll stop writing; he'll tear up old notebooks in the hopes he can forget the words seemingly printed across the inside of his skull. He'll snap all his pens and pencils, so they can never damage someone's life as they have damaged his. He'll drink so the letters dance blurrily before his eyes, phrases drop off and lay forever incomplete in the dirt - so he never has to be the one to write them down.
All this, just because he knows he can never be as beautiful as the words he w
The Way We Built Bridges"You waste too much time on your words." You once told me.
"No," I replied "you don't waste enough time on words. Words are a tool to you, not a treat. A pragmatic means of communicating, bargaining, exchanging vital snippets of information. Calm down. Stop speaking so fast. We're not fighting a war (not us, not here). You don't prune and select your language. You've forgotten how to roll it around on your tongue, or try it on for size. Revel in rolling Rs, or the sweetness of a string of vowels and consonants, arranged in such a way to create more beauty than you ever thought possible.
Language can be a delicacy to contrast your paltry recital of data. You should try it."
The Boy Who Said NoI want to tell you about something that happened outside my school recently.
It was Friday, I was being picked up by five or six friends to go for a picnic, seen as the weather was so lovely. They were all there outside school, waiting for me to finish. I came out and we joked around for maybe half a minute or so, then set off. As we passed another group of students, we heard one of them call another boy a 'faggot'. Just joking, you know? Only it wasn't between friends, it was from one boy (you know the type - football player, good looking, popular) to another, two years below. Scrawny little thing he was, hair that stuck up at the back, pale skin, glasses. He got this shouted at him, and he just hung his head and hurried on.
One of my friends, Michael, stopped upon hearing the word. Just like that. A girl almost walked into him. And he turned around and said to the boy, the older one,
"What did you just say?"
Not threatening, really, at all. Quite conversationally, as if he simply had
The Death of Bin LadenI walked out into my street this morning to find people dancing, celebrating, shouting. I was momentarily confused this was too late, surely, for royal wedding excitement? I could think of nothing but sadness saturating this particular morning.
And yet. There. An image of Obama. Another of Bin Laden. Angry slashes through his face. Jeering red paint mocking at his throat.
I felt mine close.
They are not doing this.
Celebrating his death. Celebrating it like it could ever be anything good. Celebrating yet another example of the countless times humans have resorted to, and yes I shudder at the word, necessary killings, because we cannot accept one another. Celebrating as if you could force liberty and peace into a land with the tools only of violence and death.
So I swore. Loudly. And again. And again. FUCKITFUCKITALL. Over and over again. Not because I'm not capable of saying so much more, but because you do not seem capable of understanding anything less.
Trysts With The UnknownSometimes I'm on the bus and I just temporarily fall in love with boys that look like Tim Minchin and Noel Fielding; all too long hair and wry grins, or girls that look just like Laura Marling or Robin Tunney; all shy smiles and girl-next-door. I don't even know their names. There's nothing wrong with that.
The Encaged IgnoranceYou should put them in a cage. The beggars and the vagrants and the communists. The people you disagree with. The neighbours who talk about you. The children and the elderly and the poor and the strange. All the ones who look and sound and act so different from you. Put the whole God damn world in a cage. Until the walls enclose it all. And only you are left on the outside.
The Life You LeadOkay so you're out the gates and in the race and you get an education and a job and a wife and a kid and you drink and you eat and you make love when you can sometimes more than you can and you consume things like your lover and a cigarette and a drink and a bite to eat before you go to sleep and then wake up and do it again because you can and you will and that's what's expected of you just like they expected it of your father and his father before him and one day they'll expect it from your kids too and then their kids will follow your over trodden footsteps into the office and get a cup of coffee and talk by the water cooler about what movies they saw last night.
You need to slow down. There is more than this.
I don't know howI could count eighty seconds in a minute
just seeing you
and they were not enough.
I could look into your eyes more than
a mother could look at her children
and it was not enough.
I could write seventy poems about your smile
and they were not enough.
I'm afraid you laugh.
I'm afraid you lie.
I've been waiting for this for long.
I've tried to show you my heart, my dreams, my soul,
I don't know what else to do.
I don't know how to say it.
I don't know what word to use.
But if you don't love me,
I can't do much.
If you don't feel the sun each time I say your name,
then I can do nothing.
If you think I'm just a friend,
then I can't insist.
I really believed you thought of me
everytime I had to go.
I really thought you needed me so much when you cried,
when I stroked your cheeks.
I thought you were my soulmate,
my dream, my girl, my all.
I might say sixty times 'I love you'
and you wouldn't move a finger for me.
I might give you the sky
and you wouldn't fly over my clouds.
A blind loveA pure heart
so far from here
and so close.
A beautiful life
to shine and shine
And I'm without you
but you're with me.
A big sun above my head
and my eyes can't see.
Let me imagine the shape of your cheeks.
Let me imagine the colour of your teeth.
Show me how I can live in a world without rainbow.
Teach me how to love something I don't know.
Just my hands stroking your forehead
and my fingers touching your lips can tell me about you.
Your hair is so soft,
it feels like the water of the sea kissing my legs.
There is no day or night to me,
Everything is just ...grey?
Only the sound of your voice
calms down my anxiety to see you,
my anxiety to live.
Your hands on my face tells me how pretty you are.
Your body warming my heart says how much you love this blind man.
Your eyes...your eyes, I can't talk about them
But I guess they're just wonderful
like a kind of Heaven waiting for me.
If my soul knew what is red or blue
I'd paint you in each centimeter of my skin.
If your tears had a colour
When an Angel lovesI don't wanna lose you
but sometimes u seem that far.
I'd like to strecth my arm
and touch the tip of ur fingers
but there is a big wall of glass between us.
I could find another girl
but nobody will be like you,
nobody that sweet,
nobody that kind,
nobody that funny,
nobody that cute,
nobody that smart.
If I only could have you just once
to know how much we love.
If I only could melt in front of your eyes.
If I only could smile seeing ur lips moving
saying my name.
If I only could whisper "I'm yours".
Even I'd be yours if you're not mine
but it seems that an angel can never love.
It seems nobody can destroy this wall
between you and me.
They say if an angel kiss a woman he'd die.
But for a kiss of yours I'd do it,
just for feeling your fingers stroking my hair,
just for feeling ur head resting on my chest,
just for feeling your weak body in my arms.
I'd quit to my life for you
and thousand times more
Ugly boy in loveI forgot you don't love me.
I forgot all of this dream was only mine.
I forgot you're in the top.
I forgot I'm on the floor.
I forgot who I am.
I'm the ugly boy of the class.
I'm the fatty one.
I'm the loser.
I'm the nerd.
I'm that one that nobody wants in the group.
I'm that silly boy that never learned to stop falling in love.
I'm that boy that always thought a smile of you would mean more than friendship.
I'm that soul that cries in the silence of the night.
I'm that heart that writes your name in a paper
each time your face appears in my mind.
I'm the man that only can kiss your lips on a pic.
I'm that guy that strokes your cheeks on my pillow.
And I dream of you.
Everything is perfect there.
I'm that good looking man you want.
You hold my hand
and it's not me whom looks at you,
it's you whom looks at me.
And I don't need words to say "I love you"
'cause my eyes sing it.
And I think of you.
God knows how much I think of you.
Maybe you just think of me for mistake.
Maybe you just do
You're my melodyDance with me!
The piano starts to sing.
Flowers falling down from the sky.
Hold my hands!
Look at the birds,
they dance too,
they cover your dress with leaves,
they kept them for you.
The butterflies made a crown for you
with each colour of the rainbow.
The bunnies untie your braids.
Your hair looks like a hill talking to the sun.
Then I take water from the river
to paint your eyes
and put a rose on my brush to paint your lips.
The clouds help me to colour your face
and the sunset kiss your cheeks.
The song tells about your dreams,
each note is new
and my heart loves your song
'cause this melody is you
and there are no black keys on my piano
'cause I'm your keys
and only your fingers can play me
when you love me
when you live
when you exist.
Breathe.One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Inhale. Hold your breath. Exhale.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Inhale. Hold your breath. Exhale. Eyes focused on his chest.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Hands crossed as if you were praying.
Inhale. Hold your breath. Pinch his nose. Lock lips. Exhale.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. "Don't give up on me now!" Dizzy feeling.
Inhale. A tear falls. Hold your breath. Muffled cry. Exhale.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Shoulders in agony."Please! Breathe!"
Unknown LoveWhere are you?
Night and day trying to find,
trying to see,
trying to say.
I've drawn you a lot of times,
but you're not on my drawings.
I've painted you wasting my eyes,
but I can't get the colours of your feelings.
Tell me what I have to do to know you,
to get a bit of ur love,
to get more than a dream,
to get your nose rubbing my cheeks,
to get your hands
drawing your name on my lips,
to get ur fingers giving shape to my face,
stroking my loneliness,
stroking my fears.
Paint a star on my forehead,
the sun on my chest,
the sky on my eyes
and wings on my arms.
Let me fly with you
where you live.
Show me the world.
Show me the wind.
Show me your soul.
Show who I am.
Show who you are.
They told me I'd find you,
but it seems too far.
It seems I've lost my voice
and you can't hear,
It seems I've done all that I could
and you never existed
and you'll never exist.
But I still have a hope.
If you're there, my unknown love,
You have here a poor heart,
you have here a lil song,
you have here a
Do Not DisturbYou know, there's nothing more tempting than a closed door.
So, you can imagine what I thought when I was a wee little girl and I first saw that armoire in my Grandmother's home. She lived in the French country-side, and every break in the winter-time, we would spend with her.
My Grand-mère loved to entertain us children with stories of her childhood, and old French fairy-tales that her Grandma had told her when she was our age. She especially told us about her cabinet. The one she called cachette.
Grand-mère told adventure stories, of love and life and death. The main character of her story was always a red headed girl with almond-shaped eyes that was painfully shy (at this point, my little sister would exclaim that it was me, for I did have red hair and I never spoke more than I needed too). My cousins and I would ask for our personal favorite stories about this little red-haired girl. My favorite was told like this:
The child's family had moved from England to Germa
Fallen AngelI saw You.
The last time you called my name
I was falling.
They cut my wings and I kissed the earth.
I tried to look up at you
and they closed the door,
they tied my freedom.
And I thought I'd be free.
Nobody knew me here.
People treated me like a piece of paper,
where nobody wants to draw.
I wished my wings so bad
but they wouldn't grow back again,
I wouldn't be able to fly,
I wouldn't be able to save,
I wouldn't be able to help.
Your Mother stroked my face
thinking I'd go back asking for mercy.
Your Brothers showed me their hands to hold me,
but my darkness didn't let me see their hearts.
I tried to find human affection
and they played with my intentions,
they made me mad, they broke my eyes
and I only saw the pain of my selfish.
I dreamed of days when we loved,
I remembered your voice
treating me like a son.
I wanted to feel again the pureness of my lips.
But I was there, alone, begging for a kiss.
Women gave me passion
and I could touch a kind of Heaven
but the fire of my chest dis
My PaletteMy love is like a palette
full of colours, thanks to you
and this love is true
and this love is nice.
And my love is blue
when you don't smile,
when you feel sad,
when you cry,
when you die.
And my love is red
when you love,
when you want,
when you kiss,
when you close your eyes
And my love is green
When you talk,
when you hope,
when you breath.
And my love is yellow
when you laugh,
when you play,
when you sing.
And my love is black
when you're not there,
when I lie,
when I fail,
when I'm fake.
And my love is white
when you touch my soul,
when I hear your voice,
when you're my light.
And my love is you
when you're mine,
when I'm yours.
Fill my palette with your days.
Be the colour of my life.
Be my sun.
Be my faith.
Maybe I'll love youThere you are
sitting down, trying to say much
and saying nothing,
you look at me
and I don't know what to say to dry your tears.
You avoid me
and look at me again.
I hold my face to don't fall.
And you press your lips
'cause you don't wanna hurt me.
I never abandoned you,
just love dies
when you have no place where to hold.
I never left you alone,
you were whom forgot
past doens't exist and future is no real.
No, I didn't play with you;
but I look at your face and you're not convinced.
What do you want me to do, rebuilding everything?
Are you going to love me more than you didn't love me?
And you cry and keep silence.
And you wonder why I don't cry
And I know it
I know a broken heart doesn't cry,
broken and hard, that got tired of looking at your eyes waiting,
tired of thinking: "maybe she'll change".
Maybe I would have to change
Maybe we would have,
Forgive me, maybe tomorrow it won't hurt that much.
I know you won't kiss me or hug me for last time.
Stroking your nameI feel you when you're not here
And I love you when my soul cries
But I find you in my mind
And my lips feel alive
when they say your name,
without voice, without breath
Trying to don't cry,
Trying to believe,
That you were not a dream,
That you lived in my life,
That I'm yours,
That you're real,
That my love is not a lie,
That you need me,
That you're here.
You're here, but I can't hold you.
You smile, but I can't kiss you.
You cry, but I can't console you.
You speak, but I can't hear you,
Cause' your name is on my wall
And that's all that I have
Cause' I'm in jail,
Cause' I'm alone
And every letter is your hands,
Every letter is your lips,
Every letter is your smile,
Every letter is your soul.
And I just can't stroke them
As if they were your cheeks
and I see your eyes
and you look at me
and I just can cry
Cause' you're not here
Cause I'm alive
But this is not life,
Loving a shadow,
Loving a dream,
Feeling the coldness of this wall.
Feeling your lips kissing the bricks,
Feeling my sa
The Hollow CityI've got this feeling like I want to dance in falling ash. I want to revel in the rotting softness of it against my skin, in the morbid beauty of death. I want to lie down and make an angel in the remains of a once great city. I want to be alone in the ruins. I want to run through abandoned streets I own because no one else will have them. I want a broken place to hang my head and hide a smile because I know, eventually, the whole world will come to this.