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Black HouseI watched as the journal was set down, and the words (not quite poetry, not quite prose, for the writer wrote neither) were covered for a time. The writer of the journal stood, mind immediately set on one objective. Without further thought, a coat was taken from a hook and I watched them leave. Like they did everyday. Like they did, more frequently now, every hour.Black House
There was an obsession lingering in their eyes every time I caught their gaze. Was it a new love? Was it a love for something not of the flesh, but just as dangerous, even illicit? Or was this obsession born of hate, a desire to cleanse the world of someone or something? I k
by ~sgliterary
Last EscapeThe patter of feetLast Escape
Fills these tiny ears.
Grabbed by her thin arm,
Her mother appears.
She follows footsteps,
Keeping all silent.
Not daring to cry,
No longer an infant.
Keep your eyes low, child,
Hurry those two feet.
Orders from Mother,
She tries to be discrete.
Billows of Ma's skirt
Cover her fragile face.
How long before we
Can get out of this place?
Fields zip past as
The train chugs on.
She sits quietly,
With clothes all torn.
We're reaching, child,
We're al
by ~sgliterary
Verse 16The creepy man From the CIA With the poison pen Went MIA When the crosswalk Got up and ran away And though the taxis ran All through that day And night refused To fall Still the customs agent Sold cigarettes to The thief up Against the wallVerse 16
Juliet's tired Of being famous She lost her shoes Then tried to blame us But when the cop Showed up that night Little Juliet didn't Put up a fight So where was she When the rain came down And Romeo was crying On the dark side of the town? Everyon
by ~sgliterary
Verse 53Natalie was the good one The daughter they all loved The older one Shoulda been a son Carried on the family name All the bullshit They could pile on her shoulders And while Natalie idolized The sister who despised her Still she had to keep The good of the family Before her own And nod in agreement, Biting her tongue While Daddy cursed the name MaggieVerse 53
by ~sgliterary
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deviantID
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Singapore
- Interests: Prose and Poetry
- Tools of the Trade: Pen and Paper
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--
poets are singers who haven't learnt to sing
musicians who haven't learned to play
they know not what it is we bring
think us priests who haven't learnt to pray.
--Azuire//lastfactor&c.
--
The world is the mind precipitated.
~Emerson
--
If you weren't quite so big, it would be time for Mr. and Mrs. Spank to pay a short, sharp visit to Botty-land.
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If you weren't quite so big, it would be time for Mr. and Mrs. Spank to pay a short, sharp visit to Botty-land.
--
If you weren't quite so big, it would be time for Mr. and Mrs. Spank to pay a short, sharp visit to Botty-land.
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