[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

AtticI 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 te

Ice Cold LipsHer 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.

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

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

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

MagicA long time ago, when the world was new,
and longer than anyone can remember
magic existed in the world.

It healed the sick
and didn't cause anything bad.
Magic was for good
and never harmed the people.

Then one day
a sorcerer broken by pain
and an outcast of society
used his magic
to hurt and cause pain.

He killed with his magic,
and made people suffer
in ways that should never be allowed.

The evil sorcerer went across the land
never sparing a soul and making
curses that could never be broken.

Five of the best magicians were shocked
and banded together
to stop his evil reign over the people.

Nothing the good magicians

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

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.

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

RevisionBeauty comes
three times over.
Once from the soul,
second from the heart,
third from the mind,
and this we call revision.

Silence.When the silence comes
we will be called the contemplators,
originators but never innovators.
We will serenade ourselves at night
with the arabesque pinwheels
of the unquantifiable, and the inescapably
abstract pooling behind
closed eyelids.

Abstract and abstruse.
It's in our nature –
we are the tawny wings
pasted on scrawny and thick
bodies, waiting for anyone to turn
on the lamp and suck us in.
We hope for heaven,
and only get burned.

But when it comes
we'll be waiting. We were never
outspoken – listeners,
not storytellers, because no one
ever wants our stories.
We're the ones left behind
but left intact

This is a poemThis is a poem.
It's full of lines,
and goes with a meter,
rhyming of words of course
and contains more than you think.

So much thought
is going into this poem
to many words
and so many emotions
that it's almost hard
for the poet
to capture it in a few words.

This poem has a deep meaning
that you will feel is just out of your grip
and it shall be misheard and misread in its time.

For now though,
this is just a poem
that is full of rhythm
and words too big to pronounce.

This is a poem,
full of words
and rhyme
and meter
and emotions
and love
and hope
and fear.

This poem is just words on a paper
that are meant to

Victim of a John DoeDo you want to hear the story
of how I died?
I promise it won't be boring
so if you would
just take a seat, have a drink
and listen.

Past memories reach,
I met the most amazing man
who spun words of silver and gold
with a tongue more fine than silk.

He told me he could do no wrong
and I, young and foolish, believed him.

And when we went home,
his eyes shining with new excitement,
things were perfect.

Then it shattered.

Nothing more intense
than feeling my own blood
trickle down my body.

Cruciation
stares traveling down
blood spattered knife
a gaping wound

cries of shock
gleaming white smile
solid drops of blood
and

Mind, Body, and SoulHere

Mind, body and soul
All there but just barely
everything still fits
but it's like puzzle pieces
I'm not sure where they're all supposed to go

Here

Mind and body
soul left when everything went spiraling out of control
not being able to keep up with the new twist and turns
so leaving me was the only option

Here

Body
mind was getting exhausted
with soul gone there wasn't anything left to care about
hopes were only plexiglass windows
you can see what could be but just can't reach it
now I'm walking aimlessly from place to place

Here

Alone
body couldn't make it
too many pieces of this puzzle were missing
with no soul to

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Submitted: October 5, 2012
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Mistakes

by =Oilux, Oct 5, 2012, 1:14:09 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

If 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
tainting once pure flesh.

Blunders of thoughts,
guilt as endless as the sky,
never ending weight of it.

My mistakes,
are meant to be just that
mistakes.

Though they haunt my thoughts everyday
I can't help but hope that one day
they will be scars instead of thoughts
so everyone else will know
they thoughts that haunt me everyday.

Mistakesby =Oilux

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

An apology, in a way. To friends and family who won't forget the past.

Like my poetry? Then like my facebook page!
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~dracogirl121 Oct 17, 2012

Its a good poem
<3 ~

=Oilux Oct 18, 2012 Student Writer

Thank you!

~dracogirl121 Oct 19, 2012

welcomes :3

~LuvThemHungerGames Oct 5, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

May you please resend this critique to me? I apologize

As still being a newb here I often don't know how to work everything. And when I moved my critiques from my deviant watch folder to my critique requests folder I lost them :/ So could you possibly send that again? (and the other poem you requested?) *Sheepish grin* Thanks

~Themonsterinsideme Oct 5, 2012

... This needs way more attention. This is openly and AMAZINGLY written-- so honest and apologetic... I love it.

=Oilux Oct 6, 2012 Student Writer

Thank you!

~pje0860 Oct 5, 2012 Hobbyist Artist

I understand that...=C

=Oilux Oct 6, 2012 Student Writer

~pje0860 Dec 2, 2012 Hobbyist Artist

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*The-Lost-Hope Oct 5, 2012 Student General Artist

Interesting poem. I'd like to point out that hurting one's self isn't good, just saying. But really it says a lot about how the mistakes we make never seem to go away, best we can do is learn to laugh at them (the mistakes) and better ourselves.

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