Side Streets. 
And we fell through the streets, 
Our thoughts sideways, our backs straight.
We careened and twisted, contorted and cried,
For the passion we hurtled so quickly to find.
With hands and teeth, we clawed through the mire
As we were led along bricks by our own town crier.
Our interests are dark and we tread off the path,
I follow the hand of my ( Read more... )

What faith have we,
    like leaves on a tree,
who find ourselves in peril?

We linger there
   for almost a year,
but in the cold fall away.

The leaf, it know it's fate,
   accepts before it's too late
and with grace turns gold.

It gladly makes way,
   that new life might stay,
When New Year springs forth.

Just wanted to bring your attention to an organization called the Guerilla Poetic Project. They're trying to bring poetry out of academia and into the mainstream. Their cause sounds pretty interesting as well as their approach. They've printed thousands of broadsides with beautiful poetry and hidden them in the pages of books in bookstores and ( Read more... )

There's nothing I can do ( Read more... )

Hard, cold, unyielding.
All around me, in me, over me.
Can't move for the force of it.
Distorted is the world I see.

Such pleasure it once brought,
now holds me in my place.
Can't be without, addicted,
a fragile, demonic blood lace.

But for some reason or other,
I can't blame you or hate.
At the end of the day,
I'm the one who chose this fate.

I remember the gleam of the headlight

The shine and polish of chrome

And of steel

I also remember the pain that the sheen brought to my life

First an accident

A fight or two, even more

Then death and disease

It haunts me now

Has since the very day

I saw each polished silvery piece

First a wheel

Then a handle

I see the grass below me

As I soar above, speeding by

( Read more... )

15 til quitting time ( Read more... )

Rain across tanned planes ( Read more... )

True is my friend, my girl ( Read more... )

From "Le Fleurs Du Mal ( Read more... )