[x]

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav

He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a

Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.

PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint

with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.

Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?

SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.

Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain

Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,
you'd be wrapped in the sweetest
perfumes
(learning
how to engulf the ocean
with your lungs
and think of how to cup it
in your hands
despite
your broken prayers and
still be beautiful)

dance with the gypsies
'till noon
(a quake in
your hips like the thrust
of continents
and the faultlines
emanating from
your spine,
but still
so, so graceful)

sing with the nymphs
in tune
(your voice,
it's growing old,
raspy even.
your throat's burning dry
like a monsoon
faltering in a desert,

and tones
still octaves
powerful)

be nestled in a king's arms
soon
(oh, you precious
little thing.
how

Riddle My tears fall,

like invisible

diamonds.

My heart beats,

like soundless

drums.

Unwanted,

because of the

strings attached.

What am I?

A Night By the FireNo light,
The light sired by the night
All above whilst the day's delights
Now disappears from mortal sight.

Faded away is the sun's power,
Taking the stage now is night's sallow flower;
Now mortals may behold the stars and falling shower.

Set in a pit Nature's skyscraper ablaze
And revel in the emanating heat as you gaze,
Looking down on occasion when you hear a crack from the fire
And witness "fireflies" flying away from mother's blaze;
Dying shortly after but not lacking burning beauty do they desire!

I look out towards the teasing shore
And meditate as we sit upon her door,
Thinking on what my future has in store;
Who I am now and even

Why meI wanted sleep very badly
I tried my hardest to rest
I closed my eyes and laid there
But sleep didn’t come easy
I would doze off
And wake back up
Again
Why me? When I know I have to be up at 3 AM.

Seaside HolidayI am content
to stay
a caterpillar

Who says
you have
to change?

What's so great
about being
a butterfly?

Retreat Within..Time to close down the circus, time to close down the tents. The show is over, that's all folks, I hope you
got your monies worth.
The acts have all seceded, retreating to their darkness as the people that gave them light have gone home.
The grounds seem bare as the treading of happiness have left, leaving them alone and cold, no longer
having the heat to keep it warm.
The excitement of the day is over, the light has fallen to the darkness. And the world that brought such
joy and cheer has become nothing more than a memory, nothing more than show for the hearts that needs
it.
The master sighs, tipping his hat to the world as he retreats within to his own world, closing down his body,
closing down his emotions, closing down himself til the next time to bring his charm and joy to a world that
needs it.
"The show is over, that's all folks, please enjoy your day..."

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More from *calibius

real lifeyou smile
as you say
words you
can never
take back

and frown
as you
apologize
2 days
too late

to unsay
the words
you should
never
have
thought

in the
first place

August 30, 2012Moonlight drips down
into puddles at my feet,
I sink to my knees to drink-

flashes of lightning waltz
through the clouds
playing a symphony of drums-

the beat marching along-
the wind's
whispered song

of lingering dreams &
half remembered
memories.

August 14, 2012Drifting on clouds—
Lightening flashes below.
The sound of waves
Crashing—
Thunderous roars
Winds raging all
Around.
Tempest of sound—
Calm beneath
the waves of time.
Gentle wisp of
A sweet kiss
Remembered.

sobering thoughtalways.

always wanting
what i cannot have;

do i only want you
because i can't have you?

*it's yoursI can only hope you're as over me
as I'm not over you.

20 August 2011a single light
in the barren room

a layer of dirt
covers the place,

an eerie feeling
dwells everywhere.

a dank, musty smell
stirs.

a slight scuffling sound
pierces the faint creaking

dirty and dark
fractured thoughts.

shadows on the walls.
flickering light.

where did i go wrong?

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control freak

by *calibius, Jan 13, 2013, 10:59:46 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

control.
gone.
just like so many
things before it.
a list would take too long.
it's easier to say what isn't gone.
and of those, I imagine most are
temporal.
body rebelling for some unknown reason.
tense—
my whole body is tense.
my muscles shiver involuntarily.
just another thing I can't control—
great.
I relax, only to find, minutes later,
that my whole body is wound tighter
than a violin string
& I think I'm a couple pitches too tight—
about to break.
I hope no one gets hurt in the whiplash.
but that's just
one more thing I cannot
control.

control freakby *calibius

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

just like a control freak. i start and end with control.

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~blubbityblub Feb 3, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Wow. Damn, that's powerful as hell. Well done, and congrats on your DLD! I got featured too which is how I got to your deviation

*calibius Feb 3, 2013

Thank you

I had no idea people would like this piece so much! It was more for me than others.... lol.

~blubbityblub Feb 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

well keep writing stuff for yourself then, cuz this is awesome

*Hfeather53 Jan 31, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

& I think I'm a couple pitches too tight—
about to break.

i love this

*bloodawni Jan 31, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Congratulations on your DLD for this lovely piece.

=DailyLitDeviations Jan 30, 2013

Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by =DailyLitDeviations in a news article that can be found here: [link]

Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by

ing the News Article. Keep writing and keep creating.

!travelgirlxx Jan 13, 2013

Control Freak. Yes. Just: yes. I like the changes you made from the beginning. The original was fabulous, but this is mmmazing.

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