[x]

A Carnival DelightTwo people, sewn together
more stitches bringing them together
than they ever were of conjoined twins.

A scream of horror elicited,
brought by the 'person' before her.
A thump sounded as she fainted.

Next on stage,
blood red eyes and pale skin
people cowered and hid
shielding away from his 'devils syndrome'.

Just when the audience
seemed it couldn't take anymore,
more acts joined the other on stage.

A man so small
he should have been a boy
and without a match
lit a fire like a dragon.

A girl in a cage
with eyes of panic,
contorted her body,
popping limbs and snapping bones
no one saw the tears of pain.

A man who more

Wake up loveHush now,
I'm sorry the dream must end.

It's time to wake up
and face the world.

Reality is harsh,
the people are cold,
that's how it is
and you must wake up.

For you have been asleep long enough.

Time to wake love,
and be with your people
they wait for you
and have never given up.
You can't let them down.

The alarm's going off,
and reality is waiting.

You are only human
and cannot do much
but everyone is important
and life is waiting just for you.

Can you hear their cries?
And the bellows of pain?
You can stop them
but only if you wake up.

It's time to wake up love,
and face the world.
They cry for your return
an

MistakesIf every mistake I ever made
was a scar on my body
there would be no pure skin.

Every inch would host a jagged line
where my so called 'selfish pride'
managed to get the better of me.

Idiot mistakes of my youth,
and moronic declarations
of what I thought was insignificant.

Mistakes, errors of judgment,
a complete lapse in sense,
that litter my skin with memories of pain.

For a moment
I thought I was important
not someone to be overlooked.

My selfish pride betwixt me
for everything was little
compared to the pride I raised.

A fall to Earth
waking on concrete
no one besides me.

My mistakes are scars
littering my skin
ta

The Wishing TreeTraveling along a concrete road
until the pavement turned to grass
and the grass turned to dirt.

Just when the land turned barren and bland
an abandoned park stood rusty and proud.

Little Jessica walked along that dirt path
not minding the hot sun
or how her backpack got heavier with every step.

When she finally reached
that abandoned park
Little Jessica played in the slide
and swung on the swings
that creaked with every rock.

She bored soon and left
that barren park
going to the one sign of life
besides herself.

A sorrowful tree, with no leaves left
stood near that abandoned park.
Little Jessica, feet scuffing the dirt
w

The Changing SeasonsIn the moonless dark of wanting the human escape,
the rain of desire of man doth fade,
before the time of birth the trees doth mourn.

Under the cover of desire the mind sleeps,
blood dripped from its lustful sword
crows await the night at dusk,
for their chance of nevermore.

In the autumn of devotion our souls do sink,
dying the dance of seasons burn
the season of tears scream under the cloudless sky.

Shapes of discord mourn beneath the surface,
waves of tears escape wordlessly,
the light of our imagination dreaming
under blankets of new snow.

Before the day, the dreams of desire
airy spirits of longing escape their f

HistoryThere are moments
that you wish never end

Then there are moments
that couldn't go by fast enough.

Through at the times we have seen
and all the lives we have lived.

Time seems to be
the one thing that never changes.

Time likes to repeat itself
going hour by hour, second by second.

They say, today is history
but tomorrow is a mystery.

History likes to repeat itself,
so maybe tomorrow isn't such a mystery.

I'm a PoetI'm a poet.
And because I'm a poet,
I have the pride of a poet,
and the background of an artist.

Yes as a poet.
I am overlooked in the group
for the work that is drawn,
and the art that is colored by the painters

I am a writer
and though my words hold power
they are seen as nothing more than words
and never get brought to their original intent

I am a writer
whose every move is watched
whose art is critiqued harsher than others
who's still unknown as an artist

I am an author,
who wears my heart on my sleeve
who leaves everything bare to judgment
who never asks for more than is due

I am an artist,
but I don't always get tr

Dance with the DevilStep into the circle
and dance with the Devil
in the song that never ends.

Let him take your pain away,
think of nothing more than this moment
and dance.

Come dance with him in the circle
and forget all your troubles
they won't matter anymore.

He just asks for that simple price
I'm sure that you already know.

Come dance with the devil darling
he'll take all your woes away.
Swing in the circle
to the beat that never ends.

Once you take that step
and enter the dance with the Devil
you'll never leave it again.

Sell your soul
and dance that eternal dance

Dance with the Devil
to music's soft embrace.

Sing along with the song

Lovely AnneI once met a girl named Anne
and what a lovely girl was she.
She sat in corners and talked
and talked when no one listened.

While lovely Anne was so lovely
no one went near lovely Anne
and her never-ending talking.

Lovely Anne with black hair
and dark skin. Never listened
to the voice of society.

Lovely Anne talked of a world
so unlike our own.
No one went near her,
but everyone listened
to the thoughts of a wonderful world.

Lovely Anne lived in a world
where the clocks struck thirteen
where everyone loved
where everyone smiled
and tears were never shed.

The walls and floors
objects and papers
that she talked to day

When society fallsAs we watch
This society fall

Let us all remember
What we were fighting for

Freedom from oppression
Safety from suppression

To fight without a cause
Isn't to really fight at all

We may think we rule the world
But really the world rules us all

The climbHe tied his boat among the rocks, and soon began to climb. Slowly, every so slowly, he went foot by foot, climbing away from shore and onto what should be called land, but really was nothing more than rocks.

When he tried to look above there was no grass of green. More and more rocks awaited our man, and still he climbed. The sun beat down, and clouds covered the top so our poor man could not see his destination, but still he climbed.

'It appears as though God has taken a day off today,' he thought to himself. And still he climbed up and up, even though the rocks were always coming.

When the stones cut into his palms, and the toes of his s

Maggots in the MorgueIs it the spark or the twinkle in the eye
that I eat?
dreams and hopes now faded
being devoured by my minuscule mouth
all metaphorically of course

I eat the actual eye
dull and glassy
marbles polished with a gray layering of dust
in a now vacant mind

I start at the pupil
a small black hole waiting to swallow me up
maybe I will eat some of the iris too
but not to much
as not to overindulge
considering that is the best part

Brown, green, blue
a mix of all or none
but always different
unique, some may call it
but it all tastes the same in the end

After that I start going straight through
never mind the glossy white surroundi

Paper ButterfliesA cut, a tear, a fold,
slice of color and a cut or two,
and another paper butterfly is born.

IV drips in the hand
keeping everything in place
while the cuts and tears and folds
keeps going on.

One thousand, six hundred and sixty six.

That's the number
she was told to make.

One thousand, six hundred and sixty six.
Until she can get a wish.
A nice nurse had told her so,
and shown her how to make them
but she had only made thirty out of the
one thousand, six hundred and sixty six
paper butterflies.

It seemed like such an impossible number
that one thousand six hundred and sixty six
but our patient needed that wish
just li

Sunflower KissesSunflower kisses dance across my skin
laying down in a field of wheat in the afternoon.
You appear almost out of nowhere
and lay down next to me as you were meant to be.

The sun hurts my eyes,
as I squint at the clouds and try to make shapes.
You stare at me and I try to think,
yet the more you stare the harder it is to ignore.

Do you want the sun?

The sun?

Ya, the sun.
Everyone gives the moon as a gift,
but to me, the only thing that can rival your charm
is the suns great shine,
and even then when you emerge outside
the suns grows dark and burnt.

You never were a poet
I couldn't help but laugh
at how long you probably spent
thinking

DystopiaDirty water,
corrupted laughter,
cracked dreams,
and broken seams.

Cries in the night
as life becomes a fight
there's just no more light.

Men are trying,
women are running
children are crying
people are dying.

Let's go, he whispered.
I-It's dangerous, she stuttered.
But we can't just stay, they uttered.

Chaos roams the streets
and blood's on the ground like treats.

Dystopia never ends
as society bends.
Life shall be dystopia
and never a utopia.

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Submitted: October 22, 2012
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Attic

by =Oilux, Oct 22, 2012, 12:47:30 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I went through the attic today
just to see the memories that lie.

Inside a box there was nothing
but cobwebs and fickle dust.

Yet in a corner of the room
there is the most beautiful memory,

photo albums of love
and presents from trips long ago.

I do not have to read the letters of love
for their words have long since been memorized.

A little stuffed lion
won at the circus,
shall sit in my lap
and remember along with me.

Never stitched in love this lion was,
but love was what it was meant to feel.

So as I sit and look,
from albums of old,
and presents from trips,
and letters of love,
and my lion in my lap,

I cry happy tears
at the memories that have passed.

'Darling, come downstairs!'
I can almost hear your voice shout below.

'Dear! You are never going to believe
the memories that I just unearthed.
Let's look together, and relive the old
and maybe then my tears for memories past
can become tears for something new.'

Atticby =Oilux

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Written for the auditions of 'Scratch That' at

. You can still join! Here's the info: [link]

I just have one question. Is my lover alive or dead? I wrote with my lover alive, but it can also be interpreted as that my lover was dead. So when you read it, did you imagine my lover alive or dead?

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love 2 2

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~~neutral 0 0~~

~ShikaAmazingness Nov 2, 2012

It sounded as thought they were dead

=Oilux Nov 3, 2012 Student Writer

Aw really? Well that's not what I intended.

~ShikaAmazingness Nov 3, 2012

I think it's because of the line "I can almost hear your voice shout below." Which sort-of seems to imply that they can't say that anymore, either because they weren't together anymore and like enough time had passed that it was just pleasant memories or that the lover was dead but again, it'd been enough time that it was just accepted and happily reflected on.
And like the last stanza made me think that the person was going to go through the old things, maybe cry a little, but mostly move on to happy things to cry about