[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 arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear 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 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

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

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

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 ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.

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.

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

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.

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.

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LVI IIIThe black black bird,
sat on the tree.
letting men live merrily.

It's time to pick the gallows clean.

A stone then struck him in the head.
why this was done he does not know,
having many friends and none.
The black black crow fell from the tree
(let another matchstick blow)
He may have fallen farther down
but from the Earth the flowers grow,
and from his rot the seedlings flow.
So let all young stone throwers see
the black black bird is now the tree
and on his boughs sit more Black Wings
letting men live merrily.

It's time to pick the gallows clean.

nO htaeD dna gniyDNothing
No
thing
Not hing.

I hide behind your eyes,
like flower petals crying in the rain.

like lonely
kittens
listening
for Food.

I listen too, like them,
and you are exhailing music
like the last night in November.

And if i were the ground
for you to lie on i
could be warm for you
and my eyes,the flower petals, would cry for you.

And come to you, like death and steal a kiss.
because eyes can steal,
even when the hands
and mouth
are pushed away

UnSonnett of the UniVerseI had a dream about a paper cup
It was the universe i saw inside
and when i closed my eyes it was destroyed.

I caught a mouthful of the wind
and when i let it go,
weighted down with words,
it sank.

I let a butterfly.
and together we were free
inside the catchers net.

The Dream catcher,
Dream jailor,
The snatcher of all hope.
Wrapped in weeds and raindrops.
Destroyer of Universes.

I had a dream of a paper cup
and dreamed the universe inside
and that univerese was myself
and yourself.
and that universe
i killed.

TodayToday I died some.
Buttoned my blue collar a little tighter,
My face a little more sour purple.
Stalin would have been proud.
Today I buckled my boots and clicked my heels some.
Raised a hand and saluted death some.
Today I watched the news and got duped into
Buying eight rolls of duct-tape.
I counted my nickels at the Abercrombie counter,
Buying that shirt I could get fucked in.
Today I painted pictures in Muslim blood
And on one side of the wall they cheered.
I puked up my soul
Then, and shrieked At its spare ness.
I drank some
Until my head exploded. Until
I was shrieking Merry Christmas
To all, and to all…
And to all

To: The WolfWhen the health of summer had failed
and leaves were sucked dry
and curled inward, falling like
wrinkled flames of red and sunlight yellow,
when you shouted my name through the chill air
and the sparrows exploded into flight, they carried
my name with them as abandoned as the dead leaved of
Autumn, and scurried away from you like rabbits from
the wolf.

Then

Thirteen years later, i wrote this poem
to tell you I was dead.
To tell you that i have grown now into a dolphin
and i go where the wolf cannot follow and i cry for the wolf
and i hear him howling for me from the shore, but i never was
satisfied by the how or the why o

contradictionOld copper cannon
in a green churchyard stands
a contradiction

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One More Song for the Opressed

by ~Khrishna, May 25, 2005, 8:30:46 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

One more time, the chestnut leaves with dead dry throats
fall with a silent crash as the spider spins millions dead.
And no one hears the song of dust when the dot com calls;
Writhing suicide girls and burning boys.

One more time, he presses his thumb
against the slick thick back of the luminous beatle
and it's legs spread out like grasping fingers on the glass,
and his hands pull his hair down in a frown because life
is that fragile, but the beatle smiles because the meek
shall inherit the earth.

One More Song for the Opressedby ~Khrishna

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

infinite nothing.

Edit: removed the song lyrics for drunken purposes and posies.

~xXdr0psXx Jan 14, 2006

strange and true

~Khrishna Jan 17, 2006

..or common and untrue. ...as the saying usually goes. .

~xXdr0psXx Jan 17, 2006

hm.. that's something to think about

!SheSaidRed Jun 16, 2005

Lovely. I really like this. Nice job.

"There's nothing quite so pure as the written word my dear,
so let's have ourselves a little poem." CTTS

Kristin Regina

!SheSaidRed Jun 18, 2005

Well you are quite welcome...

~Khrishna Jun 18, 2005

thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa nk you

really

~flyawaywithme Jun 1, 2005

i havnt seen you in awhile -

fancy that

and i still like (love?) everything you write. so much i cant watch you, i may have to favourite everything thats submitted.

and that would be not right.

~Khrishna Jun 4, 2005

it's been a while.

thanks though.

i'm really glad you still find my things

_pretty.

really..

~tophat-rabbit May 31, 2005

fuck you

~Khrishna May 31, 2005

i love you too, sweet whore o the green.

die though.

[really]

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