[x]

caring for p(o)etsscribbling down vicious verses on
tissue napkins while seated at
the corner of a sidewalk cafe is
about as romantic, raw and
honest a p(o)et
-outside of the four corners of your bedpost-
can get

if you've got that person dreading over
drafts and dreams on end
-of you, for you-
consider yourself a new owner
it is now time to
tame this p(o)et's perverse mane
you've got your hands on
a fragile purebred
which can be very tricky for
first timers

Decemberhe laid her life out in polaroid amid the dark blue tendrils of a dying december; it was all he had left after summer had taken the rest.

tasseographyyou stain my organs like the blackest of tea poured over and out into bone-white china cups. i feel the weight of your aftertaste in every moment of solitude scraped from breaks made into restless messes by your memory.

you haunt me like a mad man's symphony, like a eulogy pre-written and dedicated to the residue of us.

porcelain dolls with faces as pallid as your affection and as alabaster as your skeleton watch us fall apart. our saccharine sub-terrains implode, chipping the edges of our finest china with their crystalline shards; we bleed out as quickly as torn tea-bags doused in scalding water.

you are the tiresome teardrops that fall

Shorelines, HemlinesI started off treading on braided manila hemp-
I am now down to knotted wool

The lines you keep drawing begin closing in
and you keep at it til we blur
like a trail of once carved footprints
washed out by the ever coming tide

My heart comes and goes just as so,
each thump hanging on your every word;
sandcastle emotions

Often times,
I feel my everything dangling on a string of surgical thread
which you've been holding so very loosely between
your pockmarked index and delicate thumb

Please, skip out on the cruelty and let me fall;

quickly,

cut
|
me
|
o

)

Soul SistersMy dear faraway-friend,

The skies are beautiful tonight. Just endless horizons as far as my eyes can see, with breathtaking white clouds against indigo heavens and stars sparkling with hidden promises.

I can't sleep. And you know me, when I can't sleep, I think. And as I ponder, far-fetched or philosophically, I usually write. Right now, my head is a maze of thoughts; they are all crawling through, passing each other but not one stands out from the crowd. Like people in the urban jungle we call home.

In contrast to my racing mind, the wind whispers softly through the leaves as I write these words. It's silent and soothing, almost like ocea

Aurora (Borealis)The vermilion sky melted and slipped
into a barely muddied, ruddy hillside
powdered-sugarcoated, vanilla ice-whipped

The vivacious glory-of-the-snow
sabotages the dead silence of the season
with its vehement, blue-violet glow

Know that I see the gleaming aurora in
your laugh lines, life lines
in the palms of your hands and
pads of your feet, unfurling the unsaid
The north star becomes
a cardinal bindi on your forehead
Know that I feel you are heaven-defined
prophecies pressed into my spine

You want to whisper across my tips and capillaries
breathe in sky-blue butterflies, out sea-green envy
I want to compass through your crust and

the leper and the lambbaby boy grew up and
the thorns left his crown;
his sides cry red,

it scares me to hear the
same stories in his sighs.

he is the kind of poetic violent whose
words are like calculated anvils; he
dissipates between my bones and

my heart will burst, I swear it. I am
afraid of balloons and the imminent
explosion of my delicate monstrosity
rising through my throat and suffocating--
but it’s really beautiful

when he turns over and rubs the galaxies
congested within his eyes. I believe in
shooting stars and intoxicated nights and the
prickled promises intertwined between our
fingers, as I miscalculate how fragile I really am

it&rsquo

Mea CulpaI.
I thought you were the rain, but no,
I was the rain. I meant to drown you. I
wanted you to be inescapably drenched-
your trachea clogged, your mouth an 'O'
of desperate gasping, your lips parted
and blue. If I wasn't enough to die for,
I wouldn't ever be enough.

II.
Your disappearances were noted with
darkened clouds- thick and heavy, tight
with waiting. You always returned with a
thunderclap, moving me to a downpour of
deprived longing. I was a flood and you
were a desert begging to be a sea. But
flood-waters river into oceans, and
deserts are meant to be dry.

III.
It was selfish of me to treat you
like a boat- I l

Progressionshe fell to the earth in a stream of shrapnel
and stardust in holy proportions; born
of silence and unfulfillment, tumulting
through that narrow area between
expectations and reality where
the pink glaze marred her romantic,

(blurry: a photograph held by careless hands;
a memory outdated and forgotten
and beautiful, once, before
the future fell in pace)

she landed with a deafening crack--
ribcage split and spilling secrets,
gasping for air beneath the surface of a pond
so stagnant that even the lilies withered away:
bubbles rose slowly (she began the process
of forgetting to breathe)

and she was not made for
our atmosphere; the air po

i wish i was specialI.

ever since i can remember, my heart has been stolen by a big, bad wolf-boy. i had fallen prey to his big, brown puppy-dog eyes. i thought myself in a fairy tale or at least under a spell- his spell, as he could make me feel as weightless as a feather and as bright as the bluest of sunny skies. he always had me believing, day-dreaming that by the end of the dusty road, he would either transform in appearance or deed. sadly no dwarfs neither fairy godmothers nor glass or ruby slippers could be found by my side at the grand finale. there is only me left, teetering on the edge of a highway railing, acting oblivious to my own complete breakd

lukewarmshe had the kind of voice
that seemed to be stuck
in the hour of four o'clock
in the morning - soft
and tired and luring,
mumbling her way through
subways and tunnel lights
all pale yellow with noise.

there was tea and long baths
and longer absences,
hiccups of breath
the best
she could do.
long springs and
longer falls,
one equinox to the next
and still the bad
was never that bad
and the good
was never that
good,
and she continues to hum
the birds continue to sing
the apples continue to
grow and
sour and
fall,

and bury themselves
again.

Months Too Latehe was my army boy to-be, not the army boy that was; the only kiss goodbye i ever delivered was that of rose petals on carved maple, shrouded in star-spangled blue.

He WasHe was a tad too much on the anachronistic side and I was almost rudely schizophrenic. He taught me that touch was a gift only death could bring for me. So I swam through film strips caked with silver bromide, that made my eyes red and smelled the way water does when you know you're going to drown, to leap towards this friend - this world - I was too far from to experience.

He felt my veins bulge - so transparent, so prominent - every time my fingers would mischievously curl into a fist in his luscious chocolatey locks. He would loosen and play with them as he would with stray strands of hair. When I would tell him that it hurt too much, he

Requiem Fall:

     A slip
          A decline
               A loss

          You have been all these things to me at one point or another.

Fall,

               Did my heart
          Did my hope
     Did my home

          All this for the rak

Funeral ScenesMy father carried on after my mother died. He took a day off for the funeral, and we boys were old enough to care for ourselves and each other. But when he came home each night and collapsed into his armchair, I could read the lines on his face: I wish she was still here.

I never attended another funeral until my best friend’s wife died, her thread cut short by a reckless driver. He wandered among the mourners, accepting outbursts of sympathy with a weak handshake or feeble hug, but I knew his wish was not the same one my father’s had been: I wish I were with her.

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hailing from cavities filled with determination
and fruitless dreams shaken, not stirred
into our very own resilient rhythm,
comes our transformation from insignificant individuals
to "virtuous, momentous" society.

we march,
thriving with courage and dead chivalry, pike-eyed;
we live in servitude, fortitude for every day
is a new day, a new sun rising,
a virgin horizon to conquer
and put to test the palpable promise of our familial ties

we march
and, as we sizzle in sweltering heat,
we stay busy keeping course,
bearing in mind that our fertile goddesses labor
alongside us, before us, for us;
birthing and binding almost ever

My words are flightless birds Hey, is it okay now?
Is it alright to tell you how
I cannot eat,
I cannot sleep, I always,
Always want to weep
I look for you in lonely corners
Of bus-bus-busy streets;
Turn around

You are nowhere to be found

Can you keep my secret?
I don't want to keep
Regretting
Let me spill, shout it out
I long to know all you're about

I want to feel
Your steady gaze
Stuck on my skin
As I graze
Your lips with mine; I cannot find
My head, lost in a maze
Of you
I am unscrewed, feigning
Shrewdness

My words are flightless
Birds whose
Heartbeats cause erratic echoes

I Worship Her: A Ghazal I cannot help but bow before her for I worship her
My world is darkness without her, my sun. I worship her

Should I wake up to empty arms, my heart would drop with fear
I run to the lovely form by my stove. I worship her

I have found my refuge from raging wars and storms in her
Like a peaceful lotus bloom in my pond, I worship her

Let omega begin, we'll spend the last hours holding hands
I will take her all over til the end. I worship her

She is my every smile. She sows her heart unto my scarf
Her very hands profess to me her love. I worship her

One can conquer men with words but women heed

Panic Attack, InsomniacI cannot go to sleep, let alone in peace.

I can't even remember the last time I was able to put my head on the pillow come bed time and actually doze off- minus the pills, that is. It's been far too long that I've been sleep depraved and due to this, my body and mind have grown accustomed to falling asleep only after exerting all my physical, mental, and emotional resources.

Whenever I'm in the public eye, my concealer and best-seller sales rep smiles manage to camouflage my exhaustion well. My good friends and dear family though, have already gotten accustomed to receiving the reply, "I'm tired" whenever they ask how I've been or how I'm d

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tasseography

by =Sammur-amat, Feb 2, 2013, 5:31:24 AM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / General Fiction / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

_{you stain my organs like the blackest of tea poured over and out into bone-white china cups. i feel the weight of your aftertaste in every moment of solitude scraped from breaks made into restless messes by your memory.

you haunt me like a mad man's symphony, like a eulogy pre-written and dedicated to the residue of us.

porcelain dolls with faces as pallid as your affection and as alabaster as your skeleton watch us fall apart. our saccharine sub-terrains implode, chipping the edges of our finest china with their crystalline shards; we bleed out as quickly as torn tea-bags doused in scalding water.

you are the tiresome teardrops that fall from my eyes whenever i get the chance to catch sunsets embracing lonesome fingers, palms and arms all wrapped up in the subtle undertones of ceylon.

if only we could keep pretending to be the finest, royal darjeeling, my darling, but the truth is that you were made to bloom with bergamot hope and i am but a melancholy, mint-infused reverie, whose source has always sprung from you.

chained together by rust-tinged fetters, you leave me to feed from your slop; a child who has dunked a biscuit one too many times into a forbidden cup.}

tasseographyby =Sammur-amat

Literature / Prose / Fiction / General Fiction / Flash Fiction & Vignettes

A collab with the super duper =Lacewinged-Beauty,
a fierce, fierce friend

Please,
go and dote on her version over here-->> [link]
Thank you so much for every moment you spend reading, faving and/or commenting on our piece,
it is so very much appreciated.

~Pauper-Circumstance Feb 13, 2013

"you haunt me like a mad man's symphony, like a eulogy pre-written and dedicated to the residue of us."

I-... I don't know what else to say. That's just... you just created an explosion of deep emotion with that line. Those aren't even the right words to describe it.... I love how you left that line all by itself, making it just... bring readers down to their knees.

I want... want to write like you. How does your day follow suit? I mean, what do you eat and drink for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I need to know.

=Sammur-amat Feb 18, 2013 General Artist

I'm so overwhelmed by your humbling words of praise! <3
Thank you so, so much dear soul, for taking the time to read and comment on this piece. Nothing can make me gladder than knowing another being was touched by my writing.

agshhsjdhgfdh!! I, I don't know what to say, except thank you ever so kindly and I am beyond flattered, srsly.

Ahahah!

~Pauper-Circumstance Feb 19, 2013

You truly have a beautiful way of writing. Even the simplest of emotions you can turn into something majestic. It's like you are taking a seed and creating a flower with it. If it was me, I'd be taking a seed and surrounding it with dirt.

No need to be flattered or humbled. Just don't change the way you write.

=Sammur-amat Feb 25, 2013 General Artist

aghshsjdjhsgghh!!

YOU. ARE. THE. AWESOMEST. EVER. EVER. EVER.

~Pauper-Circumstance Feb 25, 2013

DON'T SAY STUFF LIKE THAT! I AM NOT! I'm only speaking the truth!!!

ps: Thank you though. You really made my day. You're becoming my second favorite friend in the world!

=Sammur-amat Mar 6, 2013 General Artist

BUT I REALLY REALLY MEAN IT!

(I'm so very honored and humbled and

)

~Pauper-Circumstance Mar 7, 2013

I just love that glomp icon.

=Sammur-amat Mar 13, 2013 General Artist

Ahahahaha! Pretty cool, I must say!

~Adagiobunny Feb 9, 2013 Student Writer

i completely agree with a few comments below - this sounds beautiful read aloud. so many delectable words...! and the end - wow. how disillusioned, & yet all the images are drawn together, leading...

=Sammur-amat Feb 9, 2013 General Artist

Thank you so kindly for your lovely words of praise.

I am beyond humbled and blessed by all of you lovely poet-writers, who more importantly have become terribly dear friends.

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