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More from ~Khrishna

Black Water blues

lavender this blue
moon-
day
and trip
his sunday
tophat soon.

red the sparrow
into rain
and cover
hands
in stone gray songs.

the ashtray's black
and plays at bone
and i am blue
this "true"'s gone ill
like water running up.
a hill.

your eyes still raom
while mine
just
...still.

you are my road
unmeaning
raveled

hope
unhinged.

stop
dropping
tears
between my knees.

god

i am
under a watery sky
collecting bad habbits
like an old woman collects stray cats:

you can see her on the street
holding a broom.
she weezes and sputters,
lifting her cigarette to broken lips
letting the phegm escape in
wads and runnels.

she married too early.
and He died too young.
It was vietnam. or whatever war.

and her children forgot
when they were older,
how she used to hold them up
and kiss their chins.

so she collected cats.

When you lose this game
you die young.
maybe even pretty
with love sticky on your lips.
and just maybe you gave a shit about
something.

when yo

Black SpaceShe walks alone along the meadow
remembering
how you'd always flip
the light switch for her
before climbing into bed.
Remembering the last place you
touched her
and aching to have those hands there
holding her up again.

Now in the deepening dark
she stretches through the black space
to a star that won't come down.
waiting for it to fall like an apple from the tree.

because your still flipping switches,
and tonight
she'll leave the door unlocked
and the light switched on
for you
again.

love is silenceOne lonely cigarette
between my fingers
burning away
with each breathe,
will never know
more love than my two lips.

But If my lips
could know yours
even for an instant
then I would not feel
so much
like
a lonely cigarette
burning away, with each breathe.

the innocent will sufferPurly incidental rant type nothingness.
running with scissors really, just to fall on my face.
you know it's true.

I love my bruises too much to let them heal.
Life is too fun for purity and heaven if full of white guys anyway.

I love

RobinOne meager robin,
On the frosted February
Ground,
his red breast
Crested with flecks of brown and
White,
pecking
At old cigarette butts
By a rusty bench.
Reminds me
Of how good,
I have it,
As I
Head indoors
To call my father
For the first time
In three
Months.

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Submitted: April 7, 2005
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Canvasby ~Khrishna

Scraps

..wrote a story on your skin. ...

...you bled to death i

apologize.

[replace this with something representing effort]

or is art effortless?

[EDIT:Fooled around with this some more and i think i like this better. do let me know.]

~MelissaVdV Aug 29, 2005

Looks cool

~Khrishna Aug 29, 2005

thank you

~Ihrie Jul 17, 2005

i managed to overlook this devitation...

how blind i must be...

~NnothINgX May 5, 2005

i can see your boob, shna, your boob. i like the overall, the contrast gives my retina an unbridled tingle. . . with-tha teeth-tha

~Khrishna May 6, 2005

that song was in my head all day

having an orgy with my cerebellum.

i invented trout.

!girldisrupted Apr 17, 2005 Writer

that is such a beautiful photograph of you. i love the honesty of your gaze.. it's so 'naked' for want of a better word.. like you have nothing to hide.. which [i think] is a bit different from your other photographs here..
this is the kind of photograph that inspires poetry...

~Khrishna Apr 18, 2005

I almost entitled it something like "naked"

for i think that that came through [maybe a little too much]

[

no]

i am glad you like it and its differentness.

thank you.

!girldisrupted Apr 19, 2005 Writer

yeah..
i wouldnt expect you [of all people]
to be so direct with the meaning

it's more fitting that it comes through in the picture

there's something left to interpret...
[just like your poetry..]

~Khrishna Apr 19, 2005

you honor me by saying such things.

especially coming from someone who also makes lovely poetry.

~amadeo Apr 13, 2005

If vomiting is effortless, then so is art.

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