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One More Song for the OpressedOne 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.

Planting a Daisy in the groundUnder the coma of this sky I am fraught with clouds
Beneath the needlework of this ground
I am exhausted by the stitch of groaning roots
Between the echo of every footfall I compose passion
With notes that crawl like black ants across the skin.

Not the weed that sneaks like a finger through the black dust
Not the pedals closed like a fist around their colors in the dark
Not the cold in my cracked dirt caked hands

Could stop me from digging this hole
So something around here can be beautiful.
Anonymously pinned under 2 a.m. stars.
The gray dirt rolling off my knees.

When you are Old

When you are old
On those not so bright
December evenings,
Setting your sad sunset
Against Gods black and blue vanity

Do not forget
those late nights, brooding,
Standing, with our stiff legs
Touching finding madness in
The method of red and wine and stars.
Burning Love's sad book without
a look back...at the ashes on our faces.
Tore another page into the fire, Another page into the fire,
And there was Ash in your hair and in my hair and I kissed you then,
Another page into the fire.

Death Pop is the new Jazz

I Walked in the gutter
I Was awake without time
The earthworms were strangling
In an afternoon gone.
I was acutely aware
There was one crushed, curled
Next to a snowdrop, He and I caught, In the late hate kaleidoscope.
.
I poke through please
and please
and please
The catastrophic curve of your mouth is no ordinary O.
I set it off like uncaged spiders
Clicking Awake Walking across paved Omen or age, No your mouth is no ordinary O.

I swore to violence then as I lifted my lips again in the afternoon cold,
Strode home alone picking steps between cracks and cones
And thinking thoughts old fashion I
Wove curses in a wicked

Pure Mourning.

I remember Mays green breezes
and looking into eyes my god
so beautiful they made the sky a darker
shade of rain.

The days we spent under the clouds' gray
mouth, and the times by the stream
spent dreaming.

dreaming.

There's still a vase on your kitchen table
a perfect white plastic orchid that you used to say
would never die or wilt or rot or fall apart.

But I'm standing in your shower now
feeling freezing water flowing over
my ruined head. Remembering that there
is a plastic orchid

that wont die or wilt or rot or fall apart
beside the empty chair you left behind.
The cold wind still blows through an open window.

CloudsLaying on my back watching the clouds roam over sky
I can see their arms, small noses, gentile hands.
They are a herd, the white clouds, none are left behind.

Laying on my back feeling the fall and rise of the wind
Like a steel violin, its coldest notes pierce my palms
And I sink as my head swims like kicked up dust.

Laying on my back hearing my escaping breath,
Watching clouds roll over the sky, I'm wondering,
Where I'm going, who I'm fooling, Why even try?
Staring at the tips of my scuffed brown shoes,
blinking the raindrops from my eyes.

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Submitted: August 9, 2005
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Sickened heartbeat.by ~Khrishna

©2005-2013 ~Khrishna

^{defribulated and diffused.

^{Made by=Deemer}}

~Ihrie Aug 11, 2005

u r a poop.

oop:

[

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~Khrishna Aug 12, 2005

thankyou

i think

Reply

~Ihrie Aug 12, 2005

heh... and you tempt me so with the title... or have you forgotten?

Reply

~Khrishna Aug 13, 2005

nay i have not
keep eating your hearts i find it
enticing.

i remember

Reply

~Ihrie Aug 15, 2005

eating... my my...

and i shall have yours soon enough.

Reply

~Elebridith16 Aug 9, 2005 Student

great shot, i like the pose a lot!

Reply

~Khrishna Aug 9, 2005

thank you again.

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Reply

~ghostsofyou Aug 9, 2005

i love this picture...

depressing things make me happy.

and you are beautiful.

Reply

~Khrishna Aug 9, 2005

isn't it funny how that happens?
perhaps that's why the same news is on eight different channels.

Reply

!SheSaidRed Aug 9, 2005

I have a pair of gloves like that.
But mine are brown.

Nice picture.

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