[x]

To the lonely sea and the skyin the dim of twilight
I feel immortal
but I feel blue;
stardust and sun drenched
torsos

watercolor pain

like the desert misses the rain

I remember you:
a sky of smog
coasting on thin ice,
limbs tangled
around the
sextile sun and uranus

bones

dust

insomnia on the silvermoon

but I am the wayward child
and there's a hole in my soul,
so please show me

show me what the stars look like tonight.

SenescenceBefore the rain,
all the leaves are brown.

Here's to green memories -
but the tree that loves its leaves
will never know the art of aging.

You found love in our yellow room,
but winter's holding my hand;
it won't be long.

When somebody says your name for the last time,
they gently take your life.

Clarity"Come. You be a gear right here,"
she dares and she is tempting. I admit,
enclosed worlds don't appeal to me.
I am embers on the highway.
I'll forge myself into something greater.
The harvest suits me not, so forth I'll go;
judge me not.

Show me how the sun rises.
Even in the dead of winter,
I am scorched like the Earth from the inside-out.
The heat of this nameless, godless desert is trapped within my wounds.

Follow the shuffling feet,
the bloodied shapes
like patchwork hope sewn together from someone else's sacrifice.
Unmistakable, undeniable, guilty;
but the answer will have escaped you.
With the perfect clarity of ragged eyes
all become

I should write this down.holy shit I should write this down -

the bad advice kills me;
like self publish WAY before they're ready.
how can we make it better?

you don't write to get a DD;
you write something awesome and then get a DD because you're there.

you don't pay to be published.

publishing isn't the end all be all.

we're ready for you.

UsedA pillow soaked with tears.
My tears.

I cry all the time out of lonlieness now.

When will you love me again?
Or will you just use me?
Really now, be honest.
Truthful.
Hate me? Why? i've been nothing but nice!

And I've always cared.
Now you're leaving.
You don't care anymore.
Try is all I did.
However, you just used me.
I only wanted a best friend.
Now you don't want me.
Good grief!

Tell me what I did wrong!
Oppressed you? Never!

Your ideas were always great!
Ooutstanding, evem! You're gone now. You don't care.
Used me. That's all I ever was to you.

WishesSo many people wish upon stars.
How many secrets do they hold?
Oh, it must be over a million,
Over a billion.
Trillions at least.
I can't even imagine how many there must be.
Not one person hasn't tried it.
Great, dark skies with tiny, twinkling lights.

Stars are trusted by people.
They never tell your secrets.
And they always listen.
Rise of the sun, the disappear.
Set of the sun, they are back to hear.

whatever befalls the last star in the skyBeautiful Doom,
oh, she falls
93 million miles from the sun, part ii

in an inhuman race [8/365]
the world is going down
and she cradles the sky in her arms
and wonders the whereabouts of God

LonelyBy myself again.
I don't go anywhere.
To do anything. So I sit there,
Twining my fingers together in boredom.
Except - I don't have to be.
Really. I could call a friend.

The answering machine picks up.
Eventually I leave a message to call me back.
And I cry, because I hate being alone.
Rewinding my VHS tape, I play my favourite movie.
Sad one, though. It's Fried Green Tomatoes.

I hate being alone.

Cause it hurts. It's scary.
Radical thought run through my head when I'm alone.
You guys, please don't leave me, I request as tears run down my face...

AvoidingWhen you're not here, I feel empty.
How much? A lot.
You're avoiding me.

And I'm sad.
Remember me? Or have I become invisible again?
Exceptional. That's what you used to call me.

You used to want to hang out all the time.
Outstanding, the way things change so suddenly.
Underneath my covers, I feel scared I'll lose you.

And yet, i don't call you. Because I'm scared of you, too.
Very much so. I don't want to be yeled at.
Only -
I miss you so much.
Do you miss me?
I waant to talk to you! But you're -
Not talking to me anymore.
Good grief, do you not want me anymore?

Maybe you don't. You could have told me, instead of breaking my heart.
Eve

What is Hallowed and CommonI don't know if I believe in love
But I sure as hell hope it doesn't find me.
I've got too much going on to worry about that.
Hell, I don't even want it.

I think.

I see all these other people moaning and groaning about it
Because they haven't found anyone yet.
They use that word for it? "Found"?
What, is it something you just stumble across without meaning to?

If that's it, love sounds pretty damn inconvenient.
I mean, you're not prepared for it.
You don't know exactly what to do with it,
the first time.

And things like that mess up everything.

Those star-eyed idiots say it isn't so.
That it's supposed to be unexpected.
Well, so is a mug

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At Sunriseby ~DopeySneezy

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Visual & Found Poetry

Opium addiction. This is not one that everyone will get.

Thanks to Catfish Snuzie: [link] for the idea and inspiration.
Background by Cybrea: [link]

~~love 0 0~~

joy 7 7

wow 2 2

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~xxheartlessbitchxx Nov 17, 2009

i dont get poetry that much but that bg is to die for..so nice and soft....and dreamy..

~DopeySneezy Nov 17, 2009

The poem is about smoking opium, lol! I sometimes wonder how many people get that.

~xxheartlessbitchxx Nov 17, 2009

i think only the ppl who do smoke opium
will get that, hehe

~DopeySneezy Nov 17, 2009

HEYYY!!!! Uh-Uhhh. LOL!

*PhotoTini May 27, 2009 Hobbyist Photographer

Are these beautiful words from yourself?

~DopeySneezy May 27, 2009

ALL the poetry I publish or display online is of my own creation, Poppy. I'm not sure if 'At Sunrise' has a copyright notice, I should check and amend that if it doesn't. I'm glad you found the poppy poem, though, lol! Who better to read it?

*PhotoTini May 27, 2009 Hobbyist Photographer

Well i suppose haha.

Exactly! Who better haha!

*PhotoTini May 27, 2009 Hobbyist Photographer

Are these beautiful words from yourself?

*cyranosdemet May 24, 2009

I do get it, although I've never gotten it... a good work, imho (not being professionally certified to offer an opinion on poetry)... sadly, there is no substance known to man that can ease the pain of a broken heart, or a broken dream... not even that benign little poppy that has probably saved as many lives as it has taken.

~DopeySneezy May 25, 2009

Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou owedst yesterday.
``````````````````````````Othello- Act III

I wonder how much a Professional Poetry Opinion Certification would set you back? I went for my Masters in Molecular Biology and that put us $60,000 in the red. Spending any more money getting certified for anything seems unlikely at this point.
`

`
Thanks very much for taking the time to read this and for your thoughtful comment.

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