|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
ALBERT ROAD AT NIGHTA fox skitters down the street on claws
sharpened on kerb-stones and dumping-grounds
It glances up at this two-legged stranger
as it passes, speeding up to escape perceived danger.
A man sleeps in a doorway; it is a warm night
so his possessions bundled make a resting-place
for his weary head, and he sleeps uncovered.
The fox pays him no mind, he is part of the furniture.
A drunken group sashays along the pavement, the silk-garbed
crowd parting for the casual stroller in denim and boots.
Giggling, they speak in high pitches of nothing at all.
The fox gives wide berth, fearing the noise.
Two men, loud, walking along the middle of the road
white lines providing guidance, kicking food containers
like so many footballs. The fox senses real danger,
and like the two-legs, is on full alert.
The men pass, the women long-gone, the man sleeps.
The traffic lights change from red to green, but no cars
are out at this time. Distantly, a siren wails.
The road is quiet but for the skittering of the f
thrillsthe roughness of the top of your head on my lips
the day after you've shaved away the hairs
sends tingles through the core of my being
the roundness of your belly pressed against mine
when we are skin-to-skin like newborns
is warmth and joy and lust-filled friendship
the fingers tough from plucking guitar-strings
tracing unknown words into the small of my back
feel like secret poetry written through my skin
and I'm no good at writing love poems
even into the soft skin of your back
and I'm no good at telling you my heart's words
but you need to know your body thrills me
and you need to know that even though
I find words so hard they stick in my throat
I love you, the core of you, your soul
fits mine like tiny puzzle pieces nobody can solve
but us. I have no words but these
and these are all I have to offer.
Untitled 08.07.2014And now we wait for the magic to begin
with scarlet lights in our eyes
and stars twinkling in our veins
we watch, noiseless and screaming
and wait for the spectacle.
And then, then it begins
every dot of carbon in our bodies
effervesces in glittering fireworks
and our minds write poems in the stars
which course through us like lightning.
And then the moment peaks
and we swim through the artist's strokes
painted with a brush floating through clouds
each of us a mirror of the other
reflecting star-filled words on words.
And finally, post-crescendo breaths
skim softly rounded pebbles on our hearts
leaving stardust as they gently bounce
and our souls come back to earth
until once again, the magic begins.
Cigarettes and BirdsongI roll another cigarette. The sun
is beginning to come up; tiny rays
of hope for another day
as the rest of the world sleeps.
Birds sing softly, songs of joy
and pleasure. I am alone
yet never alone. My world carries me,
the Universe has plans for all of us
and I sip slowly on hot tea
and contemplate its plan for me.
I roll another cigarette
and listen to the world awaken
around me, tiny stirrings of hope
for another day for all of us;
the saved and the damned.
I wonder if each morning I hear
the same birds, if they sing for me -
and feel too self-important, they
sing for anyone with a mind to listen.
We spend too much time not listening.
I roll another cigarette, and filled
with the tiny burgeoning of hope
the knowledge that not all of my days
begin this way, that my mind so quickly
slip-slides from side to side,
becomes untied; but not today.
I want to grasp this day, this peace
and imprint it on my mind, sear it
into place like a brand, a tattoo
of joy and peacefulness on my heart.
what's in a name?What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
by any other name would smell as sweet
but what a name really means no-one knows
a word we give each other when we meet
and meaningless, for some, who feel that they
are nameless, who lack identification
with the label they were given on the day
that their so-kind mothers gave them incarnation
Even names we've chosen feel like clothing
that doesn't fit or rubs our skin too hard;
to speak aloud our name invokes a loathing
for that which others use like an ID card.
And so we nameless avoid speaking aloud
the name of which we're meant to be so proud.
HazeI spend my days in a haze
of nicotine, caffeine and codeine
so I can function; there's no option
with a kid who needs me upright
compos mentis, sweetness and light.
It keeps away the headaches
burning skin and aches and pains
so he can hug me and I'll feel him
without wincing and pushing him
away because my skin is burning.
And I've been tossing and turning
all night, aware that my plight
is that of hundreds, even thousands;
it helps to know I'm not alone
that others' skin, muscle and bone
betrays them, they're also in a haze
that keeps us sane, contains
the bane of our existences
sustains us, maintains
our ability to function for our loved ones
hoping we can outrun our bodies
and fretful minds, the lines
get blurred sometimes
and that haze keeps our gaze
from glazing over when we're loving
from a chair or bed that's crushing
our self-worth, confidence in our
ability to truly see the world
through our children's eyes
and we're surprised when those kids
accept us like it's normal
1.37amI wrap myself around you
hand resting on the sweet curve of your belly
absent-mindedly stroking soft hairs
as you breathe the heavy breath of sleep.
This is our time,
though you don't know it
time when I breathe in the back of your neck
all sweat and fabric softener and soap.
This is when I protect you.
When you murmur fear I comfort you
When you shift I accommodate.
The rhythm of your breathing comforts me
so I deliberate, breathing in time with you
my chest rising and falling against your back.
My knees fit perfectly into the smalls of yours
to say we are a two-piece puzzle would be a cliché
but a true one.
SongI sing his name softly as I sleep,
hearing echoes of him while I dream,
my thoughts in slumber like a tumbling stream,
his syllables bring calmness to the deep.
I sing his name quietly in my days,
a constant sountrack to my own existence;
knowing however far or near the distance
he's lighting my life with the brightest rays.
I sing him, dreaming, waking, in-between.
I sing him while I daydream, my sweet dove
who fills my life so fully with his love
that keeps my heart alive, and pure, and clean.
If life's a journey through the mists of time,
may his ever fall step-by-step with mine.
abysssalt-mouthed, eyes pouring
but he's sure he's not crying
he's sure there was nothing
but the sound of his singing.
he makes his heart sing
he brings things to fruition
in his soul-deep cavernous
the closeness is hazardous
to the health of their minds
but they persist, coexist
with each other, they've kissed
a hundred thousand times
and it's never enough for him,
or for him. he writes poems
like hymns for him. his back teeth
ache from need, from the greed
he feels when he sees his skin.
his fingertips shout obscene
sweet nothings to his ready cheek.
he falls further into an abyss
filled with kisses and bliss.
The Voice of HeavenThe sweetest music fills the atmosphere
The voice of heaven itself
Surfing on waves of air
Sound so pleasant, beyond orgasmic
Listen to the subtle facets of its audible splendor
Every measure, every crescendo, every lick
Everyone is savored
Never have ears been so graced
Graced by such a precious lullaby
Transcendent silvery tones caress the soul
Knees begin to buckle
Everything fades in haunting mist
Oh, harmonious ballad!
The notes sparkle along their silky path
So smooth, so lovely
Sing them forever
Sing sweet love,
Your beautiful heart let shine!
Light up the darkness
Play your songs again and again
Play your songs in my heart
In the heart you've captured and chained to yours
If only everyone could know their magick
Those notes will resonate in me til I die and ever after
I love you, voice of heaven
two can play at this gamehelp.
my heart beats
and my lungs
swell with air,
but I swore
my life would
cease to be
if I could
no longer call
you mine. please
Lost and FoundHe has prayed as much
as he said "I love you"
in both cases
they were inaudible
Occasionally you can hear him
when he traces the outline of you
similar to the way
a stroke induced December
remembers to speak spring
like he's seen you before in his dreams
You can hear him
when his eyes linger at your smile
as if he could find faith
from your light
trapped, imbedded in insecurity
his way is a broken record even the deaf could listen to
He will not say I love you
not because he doesn't
but because you can not hear a man
you have yet to meet
but when you do, oh god, you will be brutally aware
Because with love like his
you could drown twice
and not want to come up for air
By Suzanne Karbach 27th July 2014
sugarclawyou sang, watermystic
rosehips swaying two hearts
to a shell
and i, niagara
fell beneath, earth tesselate
seeping in infinite squares
but this is no desert love
story you are telling, lies
stretched over acres
o' your sweetscented mouth
One Year // TimelessOne Year // Timeless
I wanted to write something,
About being with you for
A whole year.
But I can’t. (So I won’t)
Because it doesn’t feel like
A whole year.
I feel like I just met you,
I feel like I’ve always known you,
There is something meaningless about
“A whole year”.
It feels timeless.
One Year // Timeless
I know from eighth grade Science Class
That energy cannot be
Created (nor destroyed).
This, I’m quite sure, is the case with how I feel about you.
I think this feeling goes beyond me,
It stretches back through time,
And has lived many lives.
It started, I believe, as a far off sun.
All passion and fire and boiling,
Existing that way for many billions of years,
Until it compressed and
All that energy released into the cosmos,
Undamaged, undestroyed, (uncreated).
For a while after that, it existed as the stars.
Every last twinkling one in the sky,
It nestled a bit of itself into.
Sweet Nothingsthat sweet nothing (everything) something
that you whispered in my apprehensive ear
which made the hairs on my neck stand straight
one by one like tiny soldiers you called into rank.
that sweet something (nothing) everything
trickled past my eardrum, where the soldiers
beat a rhythm with my heartbeat, oozed stickily
into my mouth and the sickly, saccharine taste
was cloying on my tongue, involuntarily
my mouth rebelled, and spat those syrupy words
away, rejecting every last drop.
Keep in Touch!