[x]

WelcomeI'm ready for a romance to ravage my heart and tear apart my
dusty limbs, I'm waiting for someone to take my breath and
never give it back; I'm prepared to sell all I was for a trip
somewhere new - beyond the paper mistakes I sailed away
down the river long ago. (even rocks and leaden thoughts
won't let the truth sink.)

I left my being somewhere under a waning summer sun
when the trees hummed melodies of moving on;
my soul still stays there, porous and pining and
lost. Dying stars don't lead home.

I suppose
it's more than just losing
your words, it's losing
you

too.

I am someone who mourns Sunday morning for another lost
w

mosaics.sometimes unique
is not loud;
or bright, alive and raging,
possessed of a hunger for the atypical,
up front and too close,
or thrice-pierced and drenched
in the rebellions
particular to the latest generation.

sometimes it is a girl with
mouse brown hair and eyes
the color of weak tea,
who stands with her schoolbooks clutched
to her chest, in uniform shades of grey-blue
like the midmorning autumn sky

who has a wide mouth prone to nervous smiles,

pale lips and pale cheeks
and words that don't always come out
the way she means

who holds the universe
in the intricacies of her fingerprints
and laughs in treble clef notes
and u

Machine-Part SincerityShe once said to me,
"Come. You be a gear right here,
and I'll be a pulley over there.
Together, we'll both obey
the lever's dream."

I lied to her when I said,
"I want nothing more."

inadequateyou can try to preserve people
in stories, in books, in poetry,
in formaldehyde,
but it will not make them breathe
again. it will not make them the person they were
or those things they did;
it will not sound right
and it will not seem right,
because
it isn't right. you miss
the details or at least the right ones:
people are not made of hearts and lungs and limbs
they are ankles and hands and tongues and eyelashes
they are fire and fury and friction and fear.
i cannot say that i miss you the way you want me to.
i can't. just can't.
and that is the difference between you and me:
you say what you think you're supposed to and i,
well,
i don't say much at all.

Nighttime Ramblings and InsufficiencyYou drop your jaw,
and you pull words out from
hiding, deep in your throat.
You wretch up a mass of
unfiltered, unedited, reality
because you believe that's what it is
to be understood.

You leave a trail of mutterings
wherever you go
no one will ever want me
it's not enough
and i'm sorry, i'm
so so sorry
Do you remember the difference between
a shadow and a ghost? (the world ends
the day the sun won't shine)

Instead of sleeping (maybe
tomorrow won't come if you
don't say goodnight) you wait;
you will not be remembered, and
that is the scariest part-
you were never loud enough.
i'm s

ersatzyour wake is the warm
languid whorl of a sachet-latté
morning after,
gone when six a.m. rain swirls
pavement scents of whiskeysmoke
& a careless caress away
under cinnamon-sugar grace --
and it was only ever this:
you were lovely
by trembled halflight, when you almost had
my summer-boy's eyes.

the girl who didn't get shoti am all aches and pains and coffee stains--
am i the smell before rain, the blood in your veins?
my life is composed of memories and scraped-up knees,
failed attempts at surgeries
of my mind and of my heart, of whatever stops me
when i'm trying to start.

i am all the shores they never graze, that haze
when the sun burns rainwater on roads.
i may feel warm but know this--i get cold,
i get frozen stiff and when i'm bent i won't fold.
the marrow of my bones hold blue-grey skies,
murkier than the rampant clouds in your eyes
but when i'm rib-caged i still have someplace to fly.

i am all the forlorn poets, for i've lungs and a tongu

Accidentat the corner of boone trails and owen
she learned the brevity of flight:
glinting bumper for launch pad
trajectory approximately 5 feet
across the median.

she pirouetted
as proud, as swift
as any prima ballerina
but the landing
proved rough.

this I keep for her -
the listless weight of limbs
defying gravity, the beastly beauty
of a body bouyant before
its death.

Nostalgiashe fell in love with the sound of
dying storms, and lost herself in
the blind spots accompanying her
every furtive glance

her downturned spine labeled her:
pitiful,
and her relentless divulging to
overcast skies defined her as
needy; but still she offered the
seeds of her pomegranate heart
to anyone willing to settle down
inside the breeze

and she was abandoned, long ago,
(once upon a time, no one cried)
by wolves with insipid fangs
and human eyes (her glittery irises
never quite belonged)
they discarded her when she asked if
self-delusions were a state of mind

and
she is poorly veiled, so see-through under
our cracke

Frictiona whisper in dense woods
that scurries upon the bark of gnarled, twisted trees
and weaves its way into timid piles of dead leaves
lies have become my truth

the friction in my tired bones
and the humming in my throat dies,
as you come to call
and refuse your sin tonight

Quickeningthere is no life in me;
no quickness to my breath
nor pulse in my veins

i have coagulated
inside a tiny shell

and my heart is still
except for the beating
of my fists

MEi. I fell in love with a girl who catalogued darkness,
sat in her room with the blinds closed and wrote down
187 ways it felt
in all of the different times she couldn't see.
My name was one of them,
#143, ash velvet, and I didn't know what she meant at the time
but the only description she wrote beneath it
was good night for stuffed animals
bad night for worn pillows.

And I'm sorry I made you dream of the rivers.

ii. I fell in love with a girl who never looked in the mirror
but dressed to perfection, somehow
in her blue skirt and black socks
white tennis shoes
and a smile crooked as the bottom side of Indiana –
yeah, I

I Only KnowThere are at least
thirty-seven thousand ways
to get from here to there.

here,
where your body fits
next to my body, your breaths
match my breaths; your
escape-
paradise, sanctuary, utopia-
surrounds my escape.

there,
where you and I are not
the same; where your edges
break against my smooth,
your rises coalesce with
my falls, your
d i s t a n c e s
clatter against my presence.

thirty-seven thousand ways
at least,
but I only know one.

I only know the way the thumping
of your heart leads to the pressing
of our lips-
I only know the here and there that
pales, insignificant
to

the you and me.

Autumn AutopsyAs lovers,
we were reckless;
Children
chasing fireflies
in a field of mines.
We traded kisses
and carefree caresses
for shrapnel
and blackened skin.
Short moments
stolen pawned
at the cost
of darker afternoons,
the twilight
of the dying season;
We didn't ask,
we never questioned
the interest
of our expenditures.
I shed my skin
in the Autumn of youth,
peeled back
the viscera and
bared the bone --
Rising up,
a scarecrow of worms
and raw meat,
amongst the stalks
of reddened corn.
Tonight
she clings
to dusty artifacts,
shelved trinkets
and
wrinkled sheets
laden with memories
of decaying potency;
The wisps
rising from the cooling wick
will never be
as sweet as
when the flame
burned brightest.

comatose. i never told you:
i hated the way you smelled
like winter, like
fog or listerine or
something long forgotten.

i guess i miss you the way
i miss brooklyn,
all thirsty for a song
i've never heard, pining for
a place i've never been.
homesick.

--

i never told you:
i keep your old promises all tucked up inside,
like bruises sleeping fallow
along my hipbones.
i promise i'll love you always, i promise
i'll fix the coffee machine tomorrow,
and if you let me,
i'll fix you –

well, you never were a fixer.
what you are is tired, and you never understood
why this fucked-up little town
unmade its bed, swallowed an

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autopsy report for somebody I (once) knew"No signs of fighting."
- He went out like a fading fire
Embers in the night

No sparks left in the deepening dark

No signs of struggle
He fell down like a waterfall
Rained down on the ground

no bruises forming in his
knucklebones

no cracked ribs no nothing
(he should have fought)

He left swiftly like a river
Rapids in spring time
Gone before I trode those waters
Goosebumps on my skin

Skin still wet and eyes like glass,
With grace he fell asleep
And went down the hills, into the sea

Gently into eternity

All the bonfires died down
Air was cold and mist crawled over fields

In watchtowers stood sleepless guards

These mute

a travelershe was a traveler, worn out like her dad's biker jacket
wore old nikes, wings on her heels
burning in the soles of her shoes

she was a traveler, and all roads were known to her
and all that was unknown beckoned,

called her closer, so she had to go

she believed in poetry and kindness of strangers
had slept so many nights sitting up,
she never learned to lie down again

damp clothes and no umbrella, she was a traveler
had more train tickets than she had friends
stray cats followed her all around

all the roads took her back to Rome and away
she went to Camino Francés but she didn't find her god

it hardly ever mattered while

darker daysLife had me
by the scruff of my neck
lifted me up from the cracked concrete

Up now, little flesh and bones!
darker days will come
the shadows will grow and deepen
Up now, while you live and breathe

mellowed by my melancholy,
I dragged myself on hands and knees

and prayed that every painful inch
would bring me closer to you

I left a trail of blood from me to you
fell as a stone in your hands,
heavy bones like lead,

I cracked your fingers in my graceless flight

there was thunder in the horizon
darker days coming
like an army they came to conquest
all seals broken,

all four riders free

like we had been immortal, I hel

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Submitted: October 26, 2011
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Wanderlust

by ~Peemu, Oct 26, 2011, 9:09:33 AM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

I've been sleeping with my jeans on
and seatbelt unbuckled,
So I can leave early
before my regret wakes.

In the check-in, on the road,
I distract myself
Walk, go, leave
go further, leave again
I like my life
Oversimplified.

I never meant to break your
working-class heart
(steady and warm)
But truer ways of joy I found
on the road,
in long railways and stranger tongues
And I'm sorry that we never
Quite catch up with each other.

I never loved goodbyes,
but I love leaving all behind
In the movement I found tranquility,
easing for this burn.

Don't think I'll be able
To ever forget you, no

You're like Venus in the nightly sky,
guiding with your sulphur burn -
you left a mark in me,
in the air I breathe
Though we never quite catch up,
we never quite meet.

And it breaks my heart either way;
I don't want to leave,
but I cannot stay.

Wanderlustby ~Peemu

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Some very honest thought about loving and leaving.
If you liked it, please comment! I love faves but comments really make my day, even if it's just a smiley.

(I love my new Android phone, it's so great for writing poetry! Much easier than carrying a notebook around)

EDIT: Now also in audio form, [link] read by disrhythmic!

Go listen to it!

Daily Deviation

Given 2012-11-09

Wanderlust by ~Peemu touches on the duality of wanting to leave and wanting to stay says the suggester, who went on to add the regret mentioned in the beginning adds some depth to whether she's running away from something or running to find her way back home. When reading this poem I can't help but cheer the narrator on and hope she runs into what she's looking for.... ( Suggested by *mellowghost and Featured by ^NicSwaner )

love 10 10

joy 1 1

wow 1 1

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~OnyxiusART Dec 22, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

"In long railways and stranger tongues"-
twas my favorite line.

~LoveDoesNotExist Dec 8, 2012

I disagree! I love writing in a notebook. So much better than digital. I feel more artistic with real paper. (sorry for the trees) Oh, and a great poem!

~Mint22 Dec 6, 2012

Ha! I liked this so much that I put it up on the wall in my room.

~Peemu Dec 7, 2012 Student Writer

I'm honored!

`vespera Nov 28, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Doesn't she read beautifully?

~Peemu Nov 28, 2012 Student Writer

She indeed does! I'm so glad for the reading

~disrhythmic Nov 27, 2012

Hi.

I'm a reader for #Elocutionists and I read this out loud. I'd love to put it up on our blog ([link]), if that's alright with you. You can listen to my reading here: [link]

Let me know if you like it. <3 I loved reading it.

~Peemu Nov 28, 2012 Student Writer

I tell you something, my dream has been hearing somebody read my poems aloud and you just did it! I got butterflies in my belly and everything. Thank you and of course you can submit it to your blog!

You've made me really really happy

~disrhythmic Nov 28, 2012

Oh, I'm so glad you liked it.

I just adore this poem. <3

It's posted! [link]

If you wouldn't mind adding that link to the description, I can submit this to the #Elocutionists gallery.

~Peemu Nov 28, 2012 Student Writer

I added the link on the description, feel free to submit it now

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