[x]

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

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

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

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

The Sky RunnerThe Sky Runner

The dream was alive, vivid, soaked in far-fetched realism,
She tells me to get out of bed and run.
I love her, oh how I love her,
So I follow.

We both knew I was dreaming, everything could be done,
But she disappears, and I am lost,
I cannot see you, or feel you, or have you
You left me alone,
But somehow, I can still smell your apple perfume
Combined with rusted steel,
Fading away in front of me,
A tall forest of savage green trees,
So I run.

I run towards you, I cannot see you, but I know where you went.

Wait for me, I shout after you,
But you don't turn around, you don't hear me,
You make me feel s

I took a pill or two or fifteenI took a pill or two or fifteen, I don't remember
I woke up and yet they still taunt

Pain runs through my body, I didn't know it would happen like this
my soul hangs from their judgement

It made me throw up a few times, blood more than once
but they told me to try again but harder

My vision went blurry, or was that just my distorted imagination?
they called me fat and vile

I couldn't breathe properly, why wont it kill me now?
and they laughed some more

My head hit the floor, I thought this was it
their game had taken me

Tonight I took an overdose
I took a pill or two or fifteen, I don't remember
I woke up and yet they still taun

Who Does She Think She Is?It's not about biology or chemistry
or psychology but how you wake
at 2 AM with ideas and words
pulling you to the doorway to find
Paper and pen in your study
instead of checking to see if
your daughter is still sleeping.

It's when she's napping you settle
between the shadows and smooth
out the crinkles in your latest work-in-progress
[it's always easier to start than finish].

It's about sacrifices, because husbands
need wives not writers. Babies need
mommies to change their diapers and
kiss their boo-boos, not women who
stare at a blank page for hours, wondering
when it will speak to her.

You have to choose between you

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

TrustTrust.

Hard to gain.
But easily lost.

The effects will always remain.
Unless we pay the cost.

Instead of abiding by t

MistakeIf only I had known that

This is what we'd become.

If I could go back,

Change what I've done.

You should know that I would.

Just look at what I've done now.

Everything is so broken.

If only I just know how,

Take back what I've spoken,

I would if I could.

But now it's too late,

The damage is done.

I took all the hate.

I want to go back to one.

Do I have to go away

Just because of one mistake?

Why couldn't it stay?

Was so much at stake?

I'm tired of pretending

There's no use of it now.

Is this really the ending?

Guess I regret it somehow.

Don't we all stumble?

Don't we all feel small?

Don't we all have trouble feeling hu

May you rest in peaceYou're gone now and away,
sleeping silently somewhere else
never speaking and always silent.

If we had talked more,
would you still be here
lying next to me in bed?

To bring you back,
I would walk five thousand miles
just like in that song that you love.

But you'll never hear music again
and we'll all be here still
just moving here through life.

And no one gets to see your smile
while your families mourns their loss
and all we have are memories.

To bring you back
I would happily take your place
in the land of the never living.

Because you're being missed,
and no one knows,
what they're going to do without you.

Sleepi

ParanoiaParanoia.

I don't want to be this way.

But I can't help but feel this way.

No matter what you do

Or what comforting words you say.

My over active mind will not allow me to believe it.

My weary blood shot eyes will not allow me to see it.

Even though my attentive heart is able to receive it.

My thoughts and my imagination will corrupt and deceive it.

And that's why no matter how much I love you.

For some reason I will always feel cheated.

So please don't blame yourself because you have done more than enough.

You have proven yourself and have provided me with so much love.

There are only so many false accusations you can take.

The

I am only happy when I cry.I am only happy when I cry.
I can only smile through the tears.
I can only laugh between shaky breaths.
I can only dance in the rain.

Trust too much and fall too hard.
Take everything to heart.
Knives, swords,
Sometimes even in my back.

I put on a mask for everyone who looks.
A mask of a happy, bubbly girl
Without a care in the world.
The mask comes off when my door closes.

My dam bursts when the mask comes off.
My smile comes out when my tears stain my cheeks.
I laugh for real when I taste salt.
I am only happy when I cry.

I've been living off pain for a few years now.
It's sick and twisted.
I never cried.
Not even at funerals.

My ches

If tomorrow I don't Wake upI wonder what would happen
If I was never to wake up
Would people even care
I wonder if a commotion would erupt

Would anyone even notice
That I wasn't alive
Would my mother even mourn me
Or could she guess that I wouldn't survive

Well I'm still not dead
But I can barely call this living
I feel like a corpse
That hasn't given up on breathing

But I wonder what would happen
If I was actually to die
Would anyone be bothered
Or care enough to cry

Maybe everyone's just used to
Me living like a corpse
So no one would be bothered
Or life change the slightest off of course

But if I would never wake up
There's no way to know what

InsanityIt is a cold cruel world,
a cold cruel heartless life,
and all I want to do is sink back into the night,
I am not excepted here,
amongst the men with countless fears,
I am not wanted here,
they have made that oh so clear,
I don't want to live a life,
where all of life is but a fright,
I can not live a life,
cowering from the light,
I sit in the shadows of my pain,
to watch the days just slip away,
shun from the world of all humane,
my heart grows colder as I go insane,

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VisibleIt was a regular meeting of the Allies. There had been nothing important about it really, for it started off with America being annoying and loud, England shouting for him to shut up, and Francis being a pervert. China was busy running from Russia, who was being a bit of a creeper like normal. This meeting was unlike any other, and one that would most likely just fall through the cracks and not really remembered the next day.

All the while the sixth member of the Allies sat in a chair in the middle of the table, patiently waiting for his turn to be heard so that he could voice his idea's. Canada held Kumajiro in his arms, the bear wide awake

Through a gap in the fenceThrough a gap in the fence
they saw each other.

Drawings on the walls
for messages of love.

Images don't matter anymore
as words are the only thing
that can travel
through that gap in the fence.

Whispers of love
and no one else cares.

Still they have not seen each other
through the small gap in the fence,

But of course
all good things must end.

The gap was closed
and their love was lost.

As time erases
their love was lost
and the lovers who met
through a gap in the fence
never got to whisper
their sweet nothings to each other
through a gap in the fence again.

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

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

The Siren's Call.The Siren's Call.

Bright pink lips,
booty shorts,
a bikini top.

She gestures wildly,
beckoning every person
to have a dance with her.

Another drink goes down
and I'm pulled into her dance
where hips thrust wildly
and hands roam everywhere.

Yet when lips meet,
it's hollow and broken
sloppy and careless
no spark or real feelings.

I don't walk away
or even pull apart.
Our limbs mesh together more
and even though it's full of sweat
and nothing more than heat
I cannot bring myself to turn away.

This Siren has captured me,
and for the rest of the night
I'm hers.

DaddyDaddy,
aren't you proud of me?
Haven't I done enough Daddy?
Am I not your little girl?

Daddy,
I'm sorry I'm not perfect,
but can you please come back?
I promise I'll do better.
I promise I can be perfect.

Daddy,
Don't you love me?
Look I drew you a picture,
will you come home now?

Daddy?
Where did you go?
Please come back.
Mommy says you don't care anymore
but I know it's not true.
It can't be true.

Daddy,
You don't even call anymore.
You said you loved me
and that I was your princess,
then why aren't you here?

Daddy,
Please come home.
I want my Daddy back.

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Submitted: October 24, 2012
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Ice Cold Lips

by =Oilux, Oct 24, 2012, 6:05:38 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Her cold lips
pink in nature
but cold underneath.

There's no life
in those two strips of flesh.

The rest of her is hot,
but her lips are always ice.

Delilah, do you love me?

Of course I do.

Her eyes are just as cold
as her cold dead lips.

Delilah, do you love me?

...yes, I do

Her hands leave hot trails down my back
but her lips leave frost on my skin.

Delilah, do you love me?

...no....

and her cold dead lips
touched my own.

Ice Cold Lipsby =Oilux

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2012-2013 =Oilux

Based off this wonderful photograph:

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Mood: Love

~love4arts Oct 25, 2012 Student General Artist

Amazing. Paints a great picture.

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=Oilux Oct 29, 2012 Student Writer

Thank you so much!

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Mood: Joy

~silentangelawaits Oct 25, 2012 Student Artist

Breath taking i love this so descriptive and i love how you wrote this simply wonderful good job.

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=Oilux Oct 29, 2012 Student Writer

Thank you so much! Gosh everyone is so nice here.

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~silentangelawaits Oct 29, 2012 Student Artist

npz ur so welcome ^_^

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~TheLionAndTheFish Oct 25, 2012

Beautiful, I can almost feel the cold lips!

Reply

=Oilux Oct 29, 2012 Student Writer

Really? That's so good to hear from this end!

Reply

~TheLionAndTheFish Oct 30, 2012

Yes, really!

Reply

~TheBloodyEpicPumpkin Oct 24, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

First thought: Samson and Delilah.

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=Oilux Oct 29, 2012 Student Writer

Who?

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