[x]

DaydreamingI'm all locked up inside
My own personal cage of sin.
Sanctimony is a righteous bribe.
It brands dark ink upon the skin
Leaving me breathless, and fooled,
Not whole, not again.
I no longer wait for night to unfold
To cosset me in downy pillow dreams.
I close my eyes right here, right now.
The mind will fly where it's always free
To seek the memories of a land of old,
Not stale, not for me.

the sound of gears and stoneborn in steel and clay
rising to press back the clouds
and scattering them with a wave
of hands and arms made for
other things

the sound of gears and stone
shifting and grinding
shifting and grinding
walking towards the edge
of the world

pocked with the mark of times
when hungry beasties fed
and took me to their bed
if only in their minds
not their hearts

the horizon is never closer
and entropy betrays me
but not yet, I say,
but not yet, I say,
and I move through the night

William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

FarewellEs ist nicht alles wirklich
in diesem Zustand zwischen
Wachen und Schlafen...

" Wie du mir warst..." flüstern Türen
und Wände seit Jahrhunderten
in stillem Einvernehmen
dazu das Atmen des Holzes
ein- aus -ein- aus.

Der blinde Spiegel tut ein Übriges
und schweigt-
er hat schon zuviel gesehen.

Grünes Gezweig rankt am abgeplatzten
Fensterrahmen
und schlängelt entlang
der verblassten Tapeterie.

Einst blühten hier Rosen
sehr laut und sehr rot
und jeder Strauß weinte still
in seiner rostigen Vase.

Nun liegen Fliegenarmeen- beinoben-
an den matten Scheiben.

Ihr letzter Blick
war sicher ins Grün.

Who I amWho I Am

&

Who I Want To Be,

are so far away from each other it hurts.

Twerping Birdies

I. not a morning person

Twerping birdies, chorping away at the day
As if I were supposed to be awake
At the crack of noon.

Cheerful construction workers obliterate
The restful silence, encouraged, perhaps,
By the bad example of the twerping birds.

There's plenty of rest for the wicked,
But none at all for me; let the early bird
Gorge itself on wormy guts for all I care.

II. insomnia blues

like unto the gentle, polyphonic susurration of the wind
through the leaves of the sibylline vuvuzela tree,
the evocative, resonant, goldurned whiny two-stroke
of the kargyraa engine of progress that powers
the early morning hunting call
of the ove

vengeance for injusticea mother she cries
cries at the war
now she waits
waits for the call
of the soldiers orders to kick down her door
vengeance she took filled with hate
for her husband and child who couldn't be saved
now she's locked in a cell
she buried her son
they put her through hell
but it's okay the rich man won

cirque de nuitanfangs ein rauschen am nachthimmel
so geschehen vom flattern der wimpel im

halbdunkel und dem klagenden streichton einer
singenden säge.

genommen und versteckt
verloren und gefallen

und ein riss der das zurückkommen
nicht möglich macht.

ein bild unter glas
getrübt - verhangen wie weisses Metall.

( hast du das licht vergessen- hast du?)

die leine baumelt mechanisch
am hilflosen arm.

ein atmen - stockend und menschlich fast
(etwas pocht herzähnlich)

ein raunen geht durch unsichtbare reihen
enttäuschend wie ein sprung ohne boden.

verlierst du dich verlierst du mich auch
und haben wir schon uns beide verlo

One Thing Leads To AnotherOne teachers bitterness
Can lead to this
Student that's struggling in the back row
A snide comment about a test score
And their whole world
Will take a blow

Little did that teacher know
The magnitude that their actions hold
That one comment, look or eye roll
Could tear that kids whole world

That kid leaves class
Without a second glance
At the teacher who was meant to enlighten them
But broke down their confidence
And shattered them

It starts with passing giggles in the hallway
To comments in the next class that their friends made
To their parents questions at the end of the day

To the very next morning that same kid
Is late to class becau

Fate of the Earth Chapter 3-2How he spoke was sinister and cold, the look of him even matched how he spoke, Ireness could sense he was bad news but kept herself calm and listened to what the man had to say.

He walked around them and continued his speech as he gazed at the group “I see only two of what I am looking for but I am sure that you all know where the other two are”.

Kira then asked “who are you looking for?”

The man lent down to her and said in a disrespectful tone “I don’t recall asking you to speak”.

Alan got fearful for Kira, thinking he was going to hurt her but one of the men with the guns put his foot on his he

The Ugly TruthI'm not a miracle worker,
I'm not superwoman,
I'm a broken, 17 year old girl, who has no idea where shes going in life.

And I'm scared.

The Journey to Earth: Chapter 1 Part 1Sapphire The Black Dragon
The Beginning of Her Quest

On the planet Aldaban in the Furn System, ruled mainly by a cat like race known as the Aldabariuns, a peaceful race that was strong in their mind powers, with abilities to use physic abilities, telekinesis and other mind powers.

This race may have been the dominant species of the planet Aldaban but they never accepted that role as they believed in working in harmony with the creatures that lived among them.

And due to them with the ability to understand other species tongues and to communicate with them with their powers they made a strong pact with most of the species there.

There were

Witch's BrewBubble bubble
toil and trouble
eye of newt
its the witching hour.

Its the witching hour
where the witches
are in a gitty mood
making new potions.

A dash of frog's lips
scale of dragon
wings of a gremlin
stir them all into a cauldron.

Witches just love making potions
they got so many viels on their shelves
you can find all that you seek
at the witch's cottage.

Make your true love fall for you
there's a love potion that'll do the trick
want to be a few inches taller
there's a growth potion to help with that
just be careful not to drink it all
that is if you want to be a giant.

Witches love the time of hour
making their potions with wick

I Am RageThere are no ups to my downs
Moods like seasons yet I'm always cold
A good day is one with no blood on my hands
Yet red is the color that burns in my eyes

An itch of underlying rage that swelts
My core a fire with no intent for peace
Emotions run blank when confronted by others
Yet the desire to release feels like nature

There are pictures I see that are dark
Scenes of macabre that need to be locked away
Second guessing every touch I make
I don't trust the lit fuse that I am

A battle is always on my mind
Reality twitches with things I wish I didn't see
I cannot let go of this rage without combusting
I cannot turn away from what dissolves

Love War"war has taken your smile",
oh great and mighty soldier,
i see the bitterness in your heart,
i feel the callouses you accumulate,
across your tear streaked visage,
i see the scars a plenty,
you have fallen,
like many others on this battlefield,
for there is none more dangerous or rewarding,
just another broken heart,
in the endless war of love,
"war has taken your smile"

Sleep DeprivedHere's an update for my dreams of black,
once they were gone,
and now there back.

For days now my sleep has been deprived,
waking early,
waking loud.

Sometimes more early than i need,
1am, 2am, 3am, 4,
Life is a blur sometimes.

Now at school, sitting in class,
bored but still awake,
'won't last long, will it now? Fear i'll start to snore :3

But what causes such problems of mine?
For that i'm not quite sure.
Guilt, Stress, Blood, or Love?
I guess we'll never know.

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words overheard near the cheese

by *Nemonus, Dec 8, 2011, 8:04:04 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

There was a shooting at Virginia Tech this morning.
No, it's not the anniversary.
This gun works now.
You just had to use the other labels.

We're on the front lines.
Aah, nice. (This about demons
and a Malbec.)
I could fix your eyes with this laser.
Be kind. Be courageous. Listen.

words overheard near the cheeseby *Nemonus

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

I wanted to write a poem based on overheard words. My work was very obliging today.

I'm not sure if this is in the right category.

It isn't very urban.

~foxsword Dec 9, 2011

I agree with misao-chan on the title awesomeness. "Happening to overhear things" is my hobby.

*Nemonus Dec 9, 2011

lol thanks.

~greenleafcm Dec 9, 2011 Student General Artist

This is a really neat little poem. Must have been a good day for eavesdropping.

The way you've arranged the different pieces of conversation so that they work together to almost form a new one is great (I don't know if that was your intent at all, but that's what I keep seeing when I read it). Not a word is wasted.

I liked it.
_{I have no idea about the catagory either...also you're titles for things are always great. ^^}

*Nemonus Dec 9, 2011

Thank you. It was.

That wasn't really the intent but I think it's inevitable in this sort of thing. I liked the contrasts that ended up in this poem: dangerous/innocuous, religious/secular.

_{Hehe, thanks. These are the sorts of titles I use when I don't know what else to put!}

*misao-chan Dec 9, 2011

I think that has to be the best poem title ever.

Also I think it counts as "Spoken Word" in the most ironically literal sense.

*Nemonus Dec 9, 2011

It is indeed literal.

The other category was 'Visual and Found Poetry", which I think is actually for pictures.

*misao-chan Dec 9, 2011

That's...also rather ironic.

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