[x]

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.

lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming warmth of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment before I heard you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the first second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along

Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for?
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude

False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen

ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).

False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for

Psychotic ramblingsI, in the eternal void rest,
Am the unwanted thirteenth guest,
Insane, deranged and psychotic,
There are people who even call me sick.

Isn't it joyful and greedy to demand
A sacrifice of strangulation at the reach of the hand?
Cure the poisoned in a prison built of mental sand.

Murder is the solution brought by the resolution.
Is this the final, one and only conclusion?
Better think again, there will be no retribution.

Death is not the liberation, just the beginning.
Is there eternal peace? The solution is sinning.
Unacceptable lies become the truth, the chaos keeps spinning.

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire

WakefulI remain awake with dreams on my mind
and stories that wait to be knit into books.
To never find comfort until my pillows are
stuffed with thoughts instead of feathers
To never let go until I made sure that
the moon smiled back at me
Until the trees, the grass, and every night creature
has whispered good night...
And yet I'm still as wakeful as an owl
afraid that sleep would somehow
grab my neck and drag me to my grave.

Shared HappinessI like it better when you're happy.
The world feels like a safe place -
A good place to be.

Stay happy, even in the face
of great adversity
I know these last few years have been...

Well, difficult, to say the least.
But as long as your heart shines
I can hear it...

That devilish smile on your lips
the one no amount of miles
or hardships can erase

Remember, I'm always watching
With the eyes of my heart
I see you clearly

And, as long as you are happy
No matter where this life leads me
Then I am happy too.

Watercolor PainWhen you smile,
I turn colorblind.

It turns into a somersault
whenever I gain contact
with your skin,
bare back touching
bare back.

But I'm not hungry
for bedposts.

I just want to
savor each moment your arms
lock into mine,
the romanticism of
the moons in my eyes
and the skies in your words.

There's smoke
behind all those hues
of hazel and your fingers
are porcelain,
but I still love you.

bad nightmy mistakes are on my head,
and the cigarettes taste like metal;
on the street curb of a suburban block,
the lights jaundiced and flickering
like drunken fireflies, your reflection
that emanates from me covers every face.

HumanDear Hypocrite,

What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

a true writer's souli write to release
i write to breathe
i write to feel
i write to bleed

i don't care
if you don't understand
i don't care
if you can't relate
i don't care
for your opinion
i don't care
about you at all

my words are thoughts
my words are emotions
my words are curses
my words are memories
my words are everything
i want them to be
and fuck if you can comprehend

i could write in measure
i could bother with rhythm
but i'm better than your rules
i'm beyond the margin

i'm a fucking psychotic mess
of ambiguous lunacy
that only the ones that think
can understand
the ones that
are just like me

fuck your critiques

fuck your citicism

fuck your opin

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Czy znasz sens dysonansów przeze mnie wprowadzonych
Jesteś zabawką w rękach Jedynego
Nigdy nie byłaś ważniejsza od mrówki

Nie będzie zwracał uwagi na zwiększające się światło za nim
Ja będę je dostrzegać i uparcie się łudzić
Że przybyło mnie uratować

Odpowiedz od jednej ludozerczyniOdpowiedź od jednej ludożerczyni

Szanowny panie Różewicz
nie patrzę wilkiem, a zatrwożona
czy to na człowieka, czy na kota
zwłaszcza, gdy jestem sama
a świat za oknem gna

Dobrze rozumiem, że
są różni ludzie i różne potrzeby
ja nie chcę być towarzyska na siłę

Szanowny panie Różewicz
biegnę i depczę, by inni nie podeptali
i tak prędzej czy później mnie zadepczą
trzeba będzie mi wstawiać sztuczną szczękę

Dobrze rozumiem, że
Laibach nie gra przyjemnej muzy
ja też

Jestem cichoJestem cicho
Mój oddech jest na maksa przyśpieszony
Nie widzę nic poza konturami rzeczy - jest noc
Serce upiornie drze się

Malutki nożyk do pomarańczy leży w kuchni
Nie pójdę po niego, ale sama świadomość jego istnienia jest ciężka
Jak i fakt, że nadal żyję

Będę mieć sen o Hellboyu i Kevinie McCallisterze
Może ukoi mnie nierealną przygodę

Jest nienajgorzejJest nienajgorzej
Nikt mi nie zabroni marzyć o ugryzieniu kawałka piernika
Nie lubić jogurtu jagodowego
A jeśli nie lubicie słuchać o jedzeniu
To nikt mi też nie zabroni chodzić

Jest nienajgorzej
Nikt mi nie zabroni pisać
Ani innym zachęcać mnie do pisania
A jeśli nie lubicie moich wierszy
To inni poeci na dA ucieszą się nowymi odbiorcami

Jest nienajgorzej
Tylko brakuje czasem drugiej osoby
Ale sobie bez niej poradzę
A jeśli nie lubicie w to wierzyć
To już wasza sprawa

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Submitted: December 9, 2012
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Every-Day Reality Triptych. Part II. The Fridge

by ~EwaGladka, Dec 9, 2012, 2:14:07 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

People look at it and they see
That's an ordinary fridge
But after opening it you can see
Viands contained in it ready to served
Fridge looks at the peopletaking them out
And it laughs inwardly
That they'll be eating frozen food

Stupid fridge
It doesn't have any idea about rules which it has to obey
And it's astonished that people can't become sick

The fridge starts then to chill the food with singing
It brings on dissonances unpredicted by its design engineer
It changes chilled dishes into icy cold ones
The engineer seeing it decides to let it for experiments
In order to make people realize this and start avoid it
They do so
Unwise fridge
Still ices

Then there happens a situation that the fridge becomes fully frigid
They take out the rest of food able for consumption
It is transported away to the refuse dump

Mindless fridge
Still chills its inside
And in the end it becomes the being of coolness
And after killing itself it will lead its spirit out the dump
To still ices everything what it will touch

Every-Day Reality Triptych. Part II. The Fridgeby ~EwaGladka

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Translation of this poem [link] .

~DESTRUCTION-BUNNY Dec 11, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

I will never look at my fridge the same way ever again! xD
You did an excellent job at portraing a fridges life and perspective, and I admire that.
I also like that this is quite original, something you don't read everyday, and something that changes your view on your everyday life. Again, you have a great ability to express emotion, and very good narrative skills!
The only point I don't like again is the lack of flow, but I think that'll go away and seem less forced when you write more and more. And maybe it's just me, so...we'll see.

~EwaGladka Dec 11, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much - both for the comment and the fave

Well, at the beginning I'll have to learn how to write with the flow in Polish, and later I'll try to do so in English. It will may also help me in my language skills.

~DESTRUCTION-BUNNY Dec 11, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

You're welcome

I am quite sure it'll help you, it helped me with my English skills at least, now I can write almost like a native speaker.
And I have no doupt that you'll get really good.

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Every-Day Reality Triptych. Part II. The Fridge

Every-Day Reality Triptych. Part II. The Fridgeby ~EwaGladka

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