[x]

Poetry is:Poetry is:

the adhesive to
a fragmented soul;

broken wings that still dream of

F L Y I N G

how snapdragons breathe stardust
and orchids perform ensembles.

when 'imagination' and 'reality' at last discover a
c r o s s r o a d s,
and rush to embrace one another with fervent limbs.

why gravity seems to f
a
l
l, taking the world with it.

what flows through the veins of every pair of [shipwrecked; star-crossed] lovers.

who I am; who I was; and who I want to be.

lowercasei carve insignificant poetry into my tongue
and hope the world will pardon the lack of
bated silence, for i write in nothing but
despondent screams and uppercase;
i've forgotten how to let everything go
and i'm tired of my incessant howling,
because it seems to me that the quiet
words are the ones that are the most
heard.

-My mind
just can't
seem to

s h u t u p.

Too many "fuck you's"
that morph into
"I'm sorry's"
drip off this
dagger-tongue
like acid.

Monster.
Grotesque.
Liar.
Erratic.

Try and make it better. Fail. Try again. Break down.

So many faults
that seem to just
turn me into someone
I'm not.

Look into the mirror. See nothing but a clone. Fabrication. No longer me.

I stare and want
to break that glass
so that I can also
b r e a k.

Try and say something. Turns into nothing but rage. Take it out on you.

This shattered heart
only wants to make it
better
and become one again.

"I want to hate you."
"But I can't."
"So I hate me instead."
"But

WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasmines
and stardust mountains of silver and —

No.

Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...

Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.

I want to write

gods

and

chaos.

GlacialJanuary wolves stalk her shivering heart;
bitter ice-fangs sink into feverish skin.
Frost devours slowly, succinctly, shamelessly;
yet the howling tossed chains around her
paper-thin limbs and dragged her down.

Arctic icebound lips quivering,
silver eyelashes fluttering emptily,
alabaster fingertips reaching out;
frenzied yet frozen and fractured.

"Drowning," she whispers in a winter song,
and places her mouth upon snow-dusted fur.
"Blood freezing in these frostbitten veins."

And then the pack of aurorean wolves bolt away,
leaving her smiling in the blizzard of humanity.

Freedom.

HellfireYou see her nonsensical whims and think to yourself,
"nothing but a simpler state of mind."

Yet —

She hides behind an ivory mask,
skeleton smiles
and torpid mirth;
Radioactive sulfuric masses of artificial
crystalline lips upturned in an adamant curve.

Laughter echoing throughout hollow bones, concave and
just as empty as the cartilage ensnaring the vacant
smirk.

You can't fathom the netherworld tucked deep in her translucent limbs;
nor comprehend the frenzied howls from the fangs of a decaying Cerberus.

For when you will at last board Charon's ferry and float down the conflagrant waters of
Styx, regarding her perched upon a thro

Into the PlungeBuild me a sandcastle on the edge of the sea,
where the cliffs are sprayed with the salty tears of the tide,
and sirens cry into the night for the arms of a lover
to whisk them away into a dry night free of brine;
Where we shall dance the sunset's furtive sigh of redemption
on the edge of saline bluffs, and kiss with the gunpowder
of forgotten cannons high on the waves of an abandoned ocean;
Teetering the edge of the world, where the Kraken and Leviathan lay in wait
for lost-lorn victims of broken hearts and brackish undertows
coursing through their veins.

D
r
o

Open Heart SurgeryI've got ink throbbing through fissured veins,
poisoning every atom of my soul.

"Bite your tongue," they say.

How I'd love to chew the damn thing off
and suck down every filthy syllable
just like the rotten bone marrow it is.

They'd all watch as my body spontaneously combusts
and becomes nothing but convoluted karma.

And so I wrote,

"Dear poetry,
Teach me the ways of ripping out a human heart,
and stitching it onto ink-stained parchment."

The answer that came was rasped from a cauterized throat:

"Read your future in the collapsed palm of the stars;
find the abandoned pulse of your lionhearted muse;
steal their conformed scalpel and mak

are my words poetic enough for you?maybe not.

because i will never be the fire-hearted girl with remedial stardust lips,
dancing with the astral wolves that hunt beneath her moon-kissed skin,
with the courage to plant wilting lilacs into every crippled soul she finds.

but what if they were?

then i would be the ink blots coating the archives of humankind,
the fractured jewel tucked away in a catastrophic dragon's chest,
and the lyric every mismatched bone engraves into their marrow.

if only.

NecromancyI wanted to see what makes a human heart
beat,
so I took a scimitar and ripped apart your decrepit
flesh,
and inside that primordial ribcage I found nothing but
corruption.

And you merely gave a cruel parody of a
smile,
dug your bloodstained claws into your
chest,
and tore out that infestation you called a
soul.

"Analyze that well, my little necromancer," you
sneered,
fangs dripping with the acid I once begged to
taste,
"Perhaps you'll be as wise as me once you find the
pulse."

I could only watch as you sunk back down into
Hell,
clutching that contaminated Philosopher's Stone
hazardously,
knowing you had replaced my heart with the pois

Witch OilThere's magma boiling in her frostbitten veins;
incandescent pixie dust and
soot-stained stars,
sluggishly making its way through
a childish heart — wishing for one last chance
to spread her wings and soar to
Neverland.

.I stare at the screen, waiting for some burst of inspiration to rain upon me like a meteor shower sent straight from the gods of literature heaven.

Nothing.

A sigh escapes my lips, and I haphazardly bash random buttons of the keyboard, watching as the blank document before me is littered with an incoherent placement of characters. The monotone click-clack seems to just resonate with the narcoleptic beating of my heart, further fueling my senseless crusade.

Where has all my writing gone?

It feels like it was just sucked right out of my soul. Ideas constantly plague my mind, yet all I can do is write them down. When I go to type them out, n

For YouYour heart may bleed diamonds,
but they all they see is dust.
Your soul may run black with ink,
yet they see it as pandemonium.
The miasmas you feel in your mind are not discord,
but a precious, beautiful gift meant solely for you.

The letters care not
however you arrange them;
perfection is perfection
when it comes from your veins.

These worlds exist for you created them—
there is no such thing as
“imaginary”
as long as you know their universes.

Cry and laugh and weep and smile,
for the blossoms you water shall grow
into a microcosm of your own design.

You are a god and a king,
a queen and a demon,
whose words

They say beauty is only skin deep,so hand over that defected scalpel in your bloodless hands
and watch carefully as I peel away this tainted skin
to make way for my blackened and corrupted
insides.
And everyone can finally see
the grotesque monster that lies deep within
this soiled excuse they seem to enjoy calling
a heart.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
then why is it that I can't stand
gazing upon my reflection
every time I pass by a mirror?

AbsenceShe used to lie awake all night
consuming letters with voracity;
it was the utopian lair she created
to slip away from the turbulent world.

Only too soon she learned
that you can't always hide
within parchment crevices.

(reality always finds you)

Even now, when she yearns to fall between printed canyons,
she can't help but curse those passive and lethargic days;

"It's too damn easy to fall in love with words on a page."

Browse More Like This

Download File
TXT, 1.2 KB more ▶

More from *PrussianPersephone

Play With Me :ChinaXMermaid!Reader:Ah, another storm...how lovely it makes the sea. You smiled to yourself as you watched the surface of the water roil and bundle up like an angry serpent. The storm above the surface was bad enough even for you to hear it all the way down on your cozy bed of kelp on the bottom of the seafloor, the crash of the thunder albeit toned down to a dull roar. As your (h/c) hair swept across your face in the current, you blew a few bubbles and giggled as you watched them disappear as they slowly rose to the surface.

They are so fleeting...like the short lives of a human. Being a distinguished daughter of the sea - a mermaid - you had always had a fasc

Why Is The Rum Gone? :Pirate!EnglandXReader:You smirked and downed the last shot that was standing between you and victory. If you kept this one down, then the title of drinking champion would be all yours. All you had to do is avoid throwing it up, and then that smug bastard Captain Arthur Kirkland would maybe finally show some respect for you.

The crowd in the pub cheered as you choked down the last of the deadly strong rum; it burned down your throat and added to the fire in your belly. You were drunk, yes - after an hour of consuming practically every alcoholic beverage there was to be consumed in this bar, it wasn't a surprise. You didn't normally get so careless and drink in fro

Attack of the MagikarpAttack of the Magikarp

It had taken her a year to do it. She had been laughed at, ridiculed, make fun of…no Trainer ever bothered to challenge her because they knew her from the awful TV broadcasts about her "project". When she went from town to town and challenged the Gym Leaders for a badge, even THEY turned her down, simply laughing in her face and slamming the Gym doors behind her as they pushed her out.

But now Bridget's project was complete.

All the planning it had taken, all the money that had been thrown away, all the mockery and scorn she had gone through…it would be well worth the outcome of her project.

And what was t

Bloodstained SaviorBloodstained Savior

He was gone again.

It wasn't too surprising, though. He was always missing. Sometimes it was only for a short time. Others, it was for such a long period of time that when he finally returned, she was so pent up with worry that all she wanted to do was smack him senseless. There was something different about this disappearance, though. Something more meaningful behind it. Something...despairing, almost.

She continued her search to find him. To find Ace - the Knight of Hearts; Julius the Clockmaker's right hand man; and also, the man she had loved for countless changes of the time zones.

"Ace..." His name left her lips

I'm On A Boat :Sealand Parody: ~*~I'm On A Boat!~*~

Being on an abandoned army base in the middle of the ocean, you would expect Sealand not to get that much of an internet connection. Here, however, you're wrong: his WiFi was better than England's actually was. So, it's not much of a surprise to say that the young nation-that-is-not-a-nation spent most of his time running around the small concrete fort he called home surfing the Web. And watering his fern that he had named Mr. Blinkers. Oh, and Sealand also spent a duration of his day playing with his goat, to which he gave the name of Jack.

One fine day, Seala

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

#Writers4Life
Writers Welcomed

#Unseen-Writers
For the writers and readers

#StoriesAndPoemsClub

#Creative-Writers

#deviantART-Lit
Because literature is ART too!

#PoeticalCondition
A safe place to express yourself

#LiteratureAnonymous
For People Who Love Literature

#DeviantLITERATURE
For the love of Literature.

Show all (14)

Details

Submitted: February 17
File Size: 1.2 KB

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 88
Favourites: 376 [who?]
Views: 2,783 (0 today)
Downloads: 36 (0 today)

[x]

Storybook Ending

by *PrussianPersephone, Feb 17, 2013, 9:56:34 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Her ink-stained lips have kissed too many a forgotten page,

[dragon's blood
                                   and phoenix down]

And her Prince Charming has yet to come,

[glass slippers
                                    shattering like stars]

So all she can do is gaze out her tower window,

[enchanted forests
                                    concealing poisoned apples]

Clutch that corroded and timeworn blade,

[cursed beasts
                                    tearing down castle walls]

Toss her childhood fables to the waltzing of the moon,

[even broken wings
                                    wish for happily ever afters]

And fly.

[once upon a time
                                    there was a girl who became her own hero.]

Storybook Endingby *PrussianPersephone

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Just a random ditty that popped in my head.

I quite like how it turned out.

Maybe someday I'll get the courage to be my own hero, too.

Wouldn't it be grand if fairytales could happen like this?

Edit: ...front page for this dumb thing? Thank you very much, but...I don't understand why.

love 4 4

joy 3 3

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~Hetalia-Spain Feb 27, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

((For somebody to be their own hero.. That's an ending I'd like to see. For the protagonist ~~hopefully I spelled that right~~ to save themselves from utter doom/destruction/sadness. I love it when stuff like this can be applied to the real world. It's something I'd like to keep in mind the next time I need saving.))

~toetalgirfanatik Feb 24, 2013

It just has nice tone to it. It's somewhat inspirational in its simplicity, and the message people can interpret from it is what makes it a good work I think.

~worldpeaceismine Feb 19, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

This is true literature, my friend. If this was published, I would see it in my school's Language Arts booklist.

*PrussianPersephone Feb 19, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Aha, thank you very much. But it's not that good at all.

~worldpeaceismine Feb 22, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

"Insecurities, Persephone. Beware your insecurities." Dementer's warm voice called out to her daughter. "They're what'll bring you down most." Hopefully, her daughter would finally believe those words.

*PrussianPersephone Feb 22, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

...did that actually come from a story or something, or did you make that up on the spot. Because that is awesome.

~worldpeaceismine Feb 22, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Um... I made that up? But thanks!

~hiosono Feb 18, 2013

I like it a lot!

*PrussianPersephone Feb 18, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thanks!

~werewolf-vamp96 Feb 18, 2013

We need more endings like this

More from *PrussianPersephone

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

Storybook Ending

Storybook Endingby *PrussianPersephone

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style