[x]

Feelings are Dust (even when ours are the same)

Dark chocolate & espresso
with Bic ink you're dust.
My stomach & your brain
makes dawn a twilight red dusk.

A couple of words
describe us two.
Two words:
me & you.

Get the drift? Feel that draft?
That's an ozone aroma, a prelude to rain.
Nature's craft is my gift
and my gift is just a game.

I don't know how you feel now but if you'll have some dark chocolate and espresso with me we'll probably feel the same.

Whatever that's worth.

In My Head

I said:
Girl,
Memories in a pill are my encapsulated dreams
and I dream of you when I can get any sleep.
But these Egyptian cotton sheets are eaten by closet moths
and this world has to get dark but I don't have to be cold.
Dark days keep insomnia near my arrhythmic heart,
so keep me warm by leaning a little closer to me.
Wherever we are,
in the Milky Way Galaxy,
on a back road asphalt highway playing a beat.
You can drive but we're taking my car,
so tell me what you think and let me find out who you are.

She said:
Hey boy,
I'd like to stay
and you know I'd like to play
but I'm going to Paris
and I'm going my own way.
I had

If I'm Alone Whose Shadows Are These?*

Earth; our theatre.
Is it showtime already?
Where are our seats?
?

Popcorn is better
anticipated than ate.
Wow, I feel fuzzed.
.

Parking lot faces,
shadows of unknown people,
they bump against me.
&

Cold November nights
hold rogue opportunity;
dancing heat, or love?
...!

SteamPunk City: profile study of a new worldThe ancients who founded Geargrind City had carved the natural crystalline ground into a polished, glassy surface but it was later generations of engineers who had installed the unground clock which was centered at the town hall in the middle of the city and every minute the gargantuan second hand could be seen 6 centimeters under the crystal ground.
Black grease clouds rained clear water and cooled the fiery engines that ran the outpost town. Their world was the size of our Jupiter and entire civilizations grew and died unknown to each other.
Garamond West, a chemist from the post-steam era, made use of helium and bulky steam fan powered blimps to send groups to explore the hard volcanic landscape which held pools of sweet smelling thick sludge which would later be used to fuel gas engines of the future.
Currency was crafted from polished gems that were mined in the volcanic plains. A family or group of fortune seekers sponsored by a&

ConiumIf not being good enough wasn't a punishable crime
If bees stung vitamins instead of shooting up poisons
If hate burned the same as love, two ends of the same fuse
If reality was more like my favorite movies
Then maybe life would be nice

I tried to just dream

but it seems to me that we keep these sweet dreams corked in a hemlock polluted wine in a cracked bottle. The poisons age sweet amid the pool of wine. The dream has stopped up pain but the pain encapsulates dreams on all sides and leaks through.

Like the captain of a ship I thought I could go where I please on oceans make of dreams. But this boat was a hoax. I command a boat in a

Does an Artist Have to Play the Popularity Game?You, as an artist, might think that exposure follows artistic success. But now I believe that artistic success follow exposure. Here is a short story illustrating this fickle process:

Daviantart Michael creates art that borders on genius. After a while Michael comes down from his artistic "in the zone" mania (he loves the feeling, feels like he's high) and collapses asleep onto a pink sofa. Next morning (if ten o'clock is morning) he sips espresso and checks his inbox: 2, maybe 3 favs.

The caffeine hits Michael's bloodstream just as the disappointing realization sags over his head like a storm cloud. Why don't they see what I did here! Can'

Suicide BreakInside an automotive parts manufacturer the morning break bell whistled and the men and few women moved from their stations to different corners. There was a bench outside where it was raining.
"How'd ya do Saturday?"
"Caught a bluegill."
"Yeah?"
"Cooked it in the backyard. Real good."
"Yeah." He said and tucked a half smoked cigarette back into its pack and then walked inside.
I ate a sandwich and saw a group of people laughing around a red truck.
"You fish?" He asked.
"No" I said.
"Me neither."
"Yeah. So what'd you do with the weekend?"
"Got a campfire going in the backyard and drank."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
I finished

Gun Range Philosophy I

Latex white paint and mortar grey dust thickens the hand skin of many who believe in gun range logic. The Constitution is their finish line of philosophies and an idea further is foreign.

He had his hand in his pocket and I thought he jangled his change out of boredom when we spoke. He had Parkinsons Disease.

Four stood over a gutter on the edge of a cornfield in fall and leaves fell. Mud had caked into the drainage veins and they knew how to fix it. I did not. I could not make gun range repairs and live in a world of hammers and facts with a constitutional philosophy.

What do they eat? They join political tea parties and drink beer but I

Unnatural Decay Under a Strange Church
There's a white shelled transvestite ladybug crawling across the word "Underwear" on a Craigslist browsing computer screen in the public library.

Then it flew away into a bee's nest in the attic. Here is your epitaph: nettle tincture honey is a sweat curse and friendly lies are a pained dessert. Pretend that bee sting poison is an opium syringe, ladybug.

But the scarlet letter was her bloody joke when a gay social assassin posed as rogue busy bee named Ahab, crouched about to shatter a burgundy shelled secret like a harpoon through a stained glass window.

Across the library St. Asmodeus felt a chilled dagger through his lead filled heart

Hunting Avalon's MoonBeneath a sky of Kings, mortal life quivered
Warm rains spilled a fever of unborn dreams;
— like a silent song of golden pollen falling in
timeless reverie, seeding forests arcane
The dawn of enchantment crested ancient lands,
adorning the hunger of shadows and spirits
Long I stood in the flow of primeval rapture...
where unto the hallowed beckoned wild
I slept in the cradle of Nature's magick,
windswept in feasts of tongue & flame
Dreams and dreamers, in haste I did reap
And I thrusted my sword into the sky
Ever night's bequest, the stars shall not die

Thru seasons of fabled rhythms I roamed;
— my soul etched into the mists

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Chemistry Lives

by *thomasbisbee, Dec 6, 2012, 4:58:11 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Urban & Spoken Word

Our minds are glued to skin & bones
Attached to arbitrary forms
Souls borne through green and blue lives
Eyes colored, a chemistry like skies
At different times
Different lives

Chemistry Livesby *thomasbisbee

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Urban & Spoken Word

The chemistry of this planet has created minds which are glued onto our bodies like awareness on machines & those bodies reflect the nature of the universe in which they exist.

Check out my other stuff

Thank you for reading!

Critique by ~MzVPain Dec 19, 2012, 11:59:15 AM

Wow,
The brevity of the poetry is just like that of life. I like the truth plainly put foke the large vocabulary words... Arbitrary and borne. And yes, our minds are glued....I like that this sticks to the obvious parts of s we Y chemistry lives,a nd some how our asses stay below our feet and w are all made o the ame things but end as "different lives". Very good. I t wasike a short bio of any human, or a reipe to beginning life. And when each person removes it from the oven, they get, What? Different lives. Nice concise and original Good!

What do you think?

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Critique by ~girlpower12121 Dec 17, 2012, 8:54:24 PM

I loved this. I loved the simplicity and how much impact it had on me. The last two lines.
At different times
Different lives
Really moved me for some reason and I have to say I enjoyed this a lot...more then a lot. I thin that when a writer can get such an impact from minimum words it is surely a skill that people should be envious of and as a writer myself I am. I love this a lot as I have said before and I think many more people should read this.

Each line holds a different significance and gets a reaction from myself and I sure do hope all your other readers. I also think that the title of this piece is simply perfect.

Over all it is a very simple poem but it is so deep that it sends shivers down my spine.
Well done.