[x]

LonelyI look at the stars
Hoping to see something
Looking back at me.

But its just echoes
Of dead and dying
Suns and worlds.

Nothing's listening,
Nothing's speaking,
Nothing really cares.

There is no design,
No grand plans to
Make the universe spin.

There's only darkness,
Suffocating and cold,
Consuming the light.

Resting In NatureGreen leaves, soft wind,

The gentle whisper of the breeze.

Frogs croak, Birds sing,

The water reflects the warmth of the Sky.

Calm breathing, light sighing,

The boy and the girl lie calmly in the grass.

Midday Mildness, Soft shade,

Trees provide the greatest shields.

Light shifting, kind yawning,

The Lovers stir in their sleep.

A summer day to never forget.

A nature orchestra providing the lightest music.

A day shared, Hands linked,

The lovers sleep in peace.

You always tell me the same storyHe's in love with a scene from the winter
that occurs on a trip to Washington,
when the dark is constant and the trees jog
like legends alongside the highway;

as his eyes fall half-sleep but his senses remain
taut and vigilant, sweating on the wheel,
pitching nerve to the sound of branches cracking,
bristling under his wind-torn jacket;

the time of evening when the sunset rests
at its very highest, bright and sudden as Heaven,
an aureate glow around the birdsongs,
the stench of roadkill muted by a golden frost;

a taste of nirvana,
an instruction of faith,
the blatant existence of God,

lost as soon as he rounds the bend.

ugly hungerI.

the wolf in her
heart is whimpering
like a pup hungry
for pure milk
but all it is given
is blood--thick
and warm in a
foreign way
one that isn't the
love of a mother
or love of any kind.
II.
in the dry shade
lies the beast of eden,
her heavy jaw slack
from gnawing rotten
fruit and he is saying
with sweet, red skin
between his teeth
she was asking for it--
how her thin fingers
wrapped and pulled
and plucked at the forbidden-
ness, this is no confession
he hisses like the snake
in his heart.
III.
we are all victims
says god

On days like thisOn days like this,
I like to think
About just how lucky I am.

How lucky I am
To have food
And a roof over my head.

How lucky I am
To have a beating heart
And air in my lungs.

How I lucky I am
To even have been born.
Imagine...

Out of every sperm and egg,
And every unknown miscarriage,
I survived. We all did.

That in itself is amazing.
Then add on that life itself
Is amazing and wonderful.

How many systems
Must work in tandem
To keep me alive?

If one single DNA strand
Were to replicate wrong
My life would be irreparably damaged.

If my temperature is off
By just the variance between in and out,
I die.

These things astound me.
Every c

the weather latelywhen i tilt my glass up,
dregs of iced tea powder
become an orange starscape,
an eclipse wrought with holes;
summer, beautiful and searing.

Lookingwhy do we as human beings
ignore what is placed before us
at our feets
in our hearts

i want to be apart of nature
dissolve into the endless stretch
of baby blue skies
lift off in nimbus clouds

and when i want
gently float back down

ReptileBy design, I survive hiding, quiet;
carnivorous.
I am my fangs, or my claws, or my muscle;
alien from accepted.

Please, do not forget,
my cold blood seeks heat.

The softness of scales surprises the skin
of ignorant fingers.

RandomSiren sing me that beautiful
song of love, death and tragedy.
of war that was outplaced by love
are other things. Oh siren sing me
that song that has kept you singing,
the song that kept you breathing, the
song that every man, woman and child
would like to hear.

The Little BirdI used to have a bird

He sat on my shoulder

His songs comforted me day and night

Every time I opened his cage my heart filled with delight

For he was my only company

But then one day he flew out the window

I shouted and called his name

Until the night was gone

Sometimes if I play a song he would come to me

But when he did not come my eyes filled with tears

For I thought he had gone to the place in the sky

At least he was in a good place if he was or was he?

After days of not finding him I gave up and sat with a piece of bread

My eyes were bloodshot from nights of looking

Then I heard something familiar, was it him?

True enough

LacusSunlight glistens off the top of the lake;
Fish swim beneath the cool, crystal waters,
And the wind chops at the surface,
Breaking, for a moment, the reflection
Of the azure ocean above.

Morning CallMorning Call
Sudden shower
Lying half-awake in bed
The soft, tender form of my darling touching me
To my delight, the trill of the bugle
The tumult of the rifles
Had been stilled by the rain
The only sound i heard
Through the soft, quiet swish of my fan
Was the soft and silent swish of the late summer rain
I lay in bed to listen
Until 9 AM

light is dark and dark is lightHave you eaten from the fruits of insanity?
have you not yet bitten into the bitter sweet fruit of sins that lay upon truth?
or are you still living in the safety of a lye,
for I have moved on
while you are still hiding in the blackness of the day
I am bathing under the light of the shade
and though you are blind by the hellish suns rays
I can see
So I will take you by the hand and lead your wandering soul down the proper path of darkness
not the path of son and truth but the path of lies death and gloom
for this is the path of safty
this path was built for you...

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I Am...

by ~MoogleyBacon, Jan 31, 2010, 9:21:07 PM
Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

I am a tiger,
        largest of the cats,
        guardian of the jungles.
I am a jelly fish,
        floating through the waters,
        accidentally poisoning all who cross me.
I am a spider,
        that terrifying arachnid,
        creeping through your dreams on eight spindly legs.
I am an albatross,
        soaring over the seas,
        leading sailors both to their deaths and salvation.
I am a cobra,
        king of all the reptiles,
        blinding my foes with shooting poisons.
I am a newt,
        regrowing limbs and eyes and tongues,
        never stilled or blinded or silenced.
But I am not you,
        as you are not me,
        for you, and your kind,
        have forsaken us.

I Am...by ~MoogleyBacon

Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

^{A poem I had to write for my poetry class. We had to write something using the phrase "I am", and had to have it be deep and ~meaningful~.

Yeah. I have one of those poetry teachers.

I'm not really sure how I feel about this. Mostly because I think the assignment's stupid. But there you are.}

~doorfromheaven Feb 3, 2010

Ew. I hate those types of poetry teachers! Good job, though. I do agree--the last two stanzas are really what make the poem.

~MoogleyBacon Feb 3, 2010

Well, at least a part of it is strong. Maybe I'll go back and edit it when I'm not feeling all "grrr, *fist shake*" at the whole thing, so it's all strong. lol

But, yeah. I hate my poetry teacher. Well, not really hate-hate... she just bugs me. A lot. :/

~the7eventhrider Feb 1, 2010 Hobbyist

_{I rather adore the last two stanzas. The others I am rather 'meh' about. I agree though, that the teacher makes the prompt and your teacher made this one blech.}

~MoogleyBacon Feb 1, 2010

Ugh. No kidding. Damn teachers. DX *sigh* Ah well. It taught me that I do not like these types of poems, at least.

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I Am...by ~MoogleyBacon

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