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Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?
I cry. Does that make me emo?
I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?
I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?
I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?
I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?
I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?
I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.
Does that make me different?
Maybe.
But at least it makes me
Me.
FrostbiteNumbness
I can’t feel my toes and at first I think
It’s just my toes.
I can cover them up.
I can warm them.
 
It spreads, like fire,
Like ice.
I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are cold
Pat –pat
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that
Maybe I’ll cover them up too
I’ll warm them up.
 
I’ll take a nap
Maybe a short rest will make it all better, warm them
Up…
What’s that? How long has it been?
My legs… are you still mine..
Why has my breath left me, short?
Has everything but deserted me?
 
What about you, are you still here?
Are you still with me?
Hello?
And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –
You'll Never Understand...You'll never understand...
But I'm glad you don't.
Because that would mean
You'd have to go through my pain.
And I'd never wish that
For you.
Dear fucked society,Dear fucked up society,
Why do you take our rights?
Our human rights?
To who we love?
To who we are.. To our image?
Tell me.


You force images down our throat;
Images of airbrushed, false looking
people. You want people to look
more skinny and cause anorexia,
More along the hidden line that
you dig under the ground like
a dead forgotten body yet always there


You show us that its not right to be gay,
lesbian, bi-sexual or transgendered..
And then wonder why the suicide rate is
so fucking high. You cause the nightmares
and terrors of our family not accepting us
our
Telling Childhood Goodnight.They were the fearless whispers through the starless night.
They were the pounding feet through the cobbled streets,
Screaming out for everything.
They were the fleeting memories of a time long gone by,
Blown away in the wind to a far away sky,
Where the air is cold and the stars never shine.
 
Memories leave their traces behind,
The scars on my legs from a day long gone by.
I was climbing a rock,
That would forever leave me with a flaw.
 
They were the youthful cries, screaming out.
They were the glowing eyes, on a fearless march,
Racing down the cobbled streets, blazing out for all to see.
The beacon of light that is now dying out,
I never wanted it to go away.
Everything is changing at a speed I can’t match,
I am drifting further every day.
 
It makes me want to cry that the best and worst days of my life,
Are being pushed away with every day that passes by.
I want to hold on
But each day I lose more ground.
Soon they will be gone without even a sound.
 
Th
Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character who
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival

(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)
I don't fight fair...Cut, bruised, scraped, forgotten. These things I have all been at least once in my life. But it
hasn't made me stronger, just more determined in my fight to live another day. 
I know the ways of my attackers, studied their movements, learned their tricks and gleamed 
their true motives. I have seen their weaknesses, their faults, theirs flaws and I have kept
them close to me, ready for use when the next time we meet.
They are cautious of me, they have weary from my adaptive ways, knowing that I can fall only
so many times. They are scared for I have the key to their defeat; not by sane ways, but by
the ways they fear to tread.
One look, one stare, one gesture and they will run in fear for the truth is upon them: "I won't 
live restrained anymore."
"I have seen your errors an played on them like strings on a violin. Moved you to place were I
make the rules. Put you on display for all to see what you have done, and what will be done."
 
You ha
Silent and GoneAlong the blue streams of those who were simplistically glassed, I drag my wooden, empty coffin; it contains only my past.

For the many decades I've lengthened have expanded pain's time; across shallow mountains and beatings I prepare my final climb.

Through harsh mists and soft grasses the journey trembles on; days on end without my voices; alas, I realize they are gone.

Near all abandonment's shelter I rest without ease; my halved demon appears before me; she speaks hellishly in the breeze.

Forgiveness and hallucination she crisply burns in my eyes; I must awaken and continue, 'tis my time to remain wise.

To a judging stream near the g
the carbon footprint of an arsonistyour crystal promise
rings drip off your glacial
fingers into global

nothings. the geodesic
dome you used to live in
is a hell you keep

clean-shaven and concentric,
spiraling away from you,
wrapping your unborn

children up in paper goblets.
for minimum wage, any geryon
would cling to the terza rima

inkblots on your
collarbones, his spongy molars
diving into your right

angles, his familiar laughs
killing your skin with
shivering cuddles and you

shudder, being self-diagnosed
at center of the universe,
your hair a nest of radio

waves, the one cosmic
principle drumming on the ancient
heart of mystery.

but amateur porn always
made you cry
lifelinesI fear the sound of sparrows
and the density of leaves
against dew-muffled blades
of grass,

and I'm drowning
in the sky.

My skin has learned how
to peel itself off
without causing a commotion
in my marrows or
even show the slightest hint
of pain,
and my heart has learned how
to hush the stars in their wake
and keep it all a secret.

There's a sea in my mouth
and I can't swim.

There are lifelines
cast like these and it will
all end with the same tragedy.
The WaitingBones hang from trees
Hollow windchimes rattling
In the sullen breeze

Dark clouds make noonday dusk
Rusted buttons on threadbare coats
Sorrow drips like rain

(From the fingertips of this dead-rose day)

Hoofprints kill the grass
Where the dark horse steps
The rider unsmiling

The tired and ill amble about
Cattle awaiting the shoulder tap
To sleep, but not to dream

(To become whatever the second birth dictates)
Happily AloneHonesty,
She does not have,
Personalities,
She has many of them.

A million shields,
a million personalities,
She's always changing,
to fit every person around her.

If one were to ask why,
she would answer with,
I will never reveal my weaknesses,
because she's evil.

She hates everyone,
stupider than her is barely tolerable,
smarter than her is too scary,
She hates it all.

She leaves the world behind,
To one she has dreamt of,
No color,
nobody else.

Then,
she will smile,
why,
because she is truly happy alone.

She is not evil,
She does not hate you,
She is not dishonest,
She simply wants to be alone.
of seafoam thronesFrom Atlas’ hands she wept to me,
atop Africas and South Atlantics;

this is one situation unaffected by
ember eyes and windy lashes
(it has no anatomy).

You are sparrows stranded
in tiny crevices and cliffside love,
though you rebuke flight
in the fear of chipping feathers.

   So what do you do?

You reach for my soul,
coveting flight with shaking
dainty arms…

and perhaps I’ll let you:
With flytrap lips and
glass shaped hips…
you are unfit for anything but
sight.

(But beauty isn’t everything)
A Charmed LifeDoll-faced men and sinkholes, ancient tombstones
Leaves piled ankle-deep, falling down
Old wells, old graves, old friends lost
Pirate adventures in Neverland
Don't go into that barn

Ponchoboy and Rangergirl rise from the ashes
From the cold river, from afar
Remember before they were born, how they
Held hands and jumped into the world
Don't go into that school

Ladybugs, pennies, notes from the dead sun eclipse
Scrape the inside of your skull for clues
All the old dreams are still there, petrified
You are a rock of ages gibbering
Don't go into that factory
Ashes on the SandWe put you in
a crystal box
small enough for me
to hold in my
hands
(and that thought gives me
chill bumps)
The tide was high
where we took you
and I remember thinking
how pointless it was
(you were just going to wash
up on the shore)
Everyone was quiet
and some people cried
and as you were tossed
out to sea like so
many grains of sand
I thought how much
I missed you
(Now I think how much
I hate you
for leaving)
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:iconabandonedambition:

It feels as if I'm going nowhere,
Which isn't right because
I feel the caustic caress
Of lactic acid in my legs
And I see the grit of the ground
Pass beneath my cracked and bleeding fingers,
But when I look up,
Things I thought I could touch
Are silhouettes in the distance

Perhaps I've been alone in the dark
Pushing a carousel 'round and 'round
This heavy machine
Filled with my dreams,
Weighing it down
And I've been wasting my time
On broken promises

I march and I march
Like there's a gun to my back,
But still,
Clouds look like comets
And people become blurs

Perhaps I've been sitting in the dark
Pushing a carousel 'round and 'round
And I've been wasting my time:
Going nowhere fast,
And I have to think
It would just be easier
To drop face down in the dirt
And let my heavy, heavy dreams on top
Rot.
:iconabandonedambition:
A bit of trivia: the first few lines came to me while surfing, but the meaning changed since then.
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:iconsigma-echo-seven:
~Sigma-Echo-Seven Sep 18, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
A highly interesting conceit! Fresh imagery, as well.
Reply
:iconabandonedambition:
~AbandonedAmbition Sep 19, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks! But certainly not conceited, right?
Reply
:iconsigma-echo-seven:
~Sigma-Echo-Seven Sep 19, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Right, not conceited (arrogant) but a conceit (extended metaphor).
Reply
:iconabandonedambition:
~AbandonedAmbition Sep 19, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Haha I'm aware. Just a crude attempt at wordplay.
Reply
:iconsigma-echo-seven:
~Sigma-Echo-Seven Sep 19, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
:)
Reply
:iconmr-timeshadow:
~Mr-Timeshadow Aug 27, 2012
I enjoyed this up until the last line, which felt a little awkward to me. I read it a few times, but that didn't change.
The rest was excellent! I loved the unique lines like, "I feel the caustic caress / of lactic acid in my legs"! What a wonderfully poetic way to say, "Dude! My legs hurt!" ;) That's what makes a true poet; the ability to say even the most mundane thing -- not saying you did, but still -- in an eye-opening style.
The subject matter felt a little like Walt Kelly's baseball poem Slide Rule for Infinity: [link] . Thanks for sharing!
Reply
:iconabandonedambition:
~AbandonedAmbition Aug 27, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Glad you enjoyed (at least some part of) this piece :)
I can definitely see how one would interpret that line as awkward...

Thanks, I was kinda worried that line wouldn't get through to some (well I knew you'd make the connection with the lactic acid, science-y bit.)

I guess that is a component of poetry. It seems I'm moving in the right direction :D

I can certainly draw some parallels to Walt Kelly's poem.

Thanks for offering your thoughts.
Reply
:iconmr-timeshadow:
~Mr-Timeshadow Aug 27, 2012
I'd say "Most of" the piece, but yeah -- I did.
You actually thought, "well, King Nutter will glom on..."? ;) You guessed right...
You read a lot of Kelly? Besides that one? He was a hoot!
Oh, and you're welcome!
Reply
:iconstephsin2kh:
~stephsin2kh Aug 27, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Wow, deep.... I like the emotion and the imagery, and the way the lines fit together is.. amazing... If I could, I'd slap this on the front page right now!
Reply
:iconabandonedambition:
~AbandonedAmbition Aug 27, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Haha thanks. Glad you enjoyed this piece.
Reply
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