This is IronyI count the passing of days in ashtray soldiers,This is Irony by MozartsNemesis
and stillness in the words of dead poets.
We write our secrets on the inside of our lungs
and hide truths on the inside of our stanzas,
because it’s acceptable to wear hatred on your arms,
but vulnerability is a mark of weakness.
I have choked down everything: pain and shame and arsenic tranquility,
to spew forth such paltry words and call it poetry.
A waltz away from thirty eight caliber oblivion
we press back, back
because death isn’t as romantic as we hoped,
and poison is quieter than a gunshot.
Late Night Poets Official DA Kickoff!Late Night Poets Official DA Kickoff! by MozartsNemesis
Late Night Poets
Hey guys and girls, welcome to Late Night Poets, DA Edition. I personally have known the Late Night Poets on AOL for a couple of years, and they are some amazing, talented individuals. Most questions you have can be answered by their website here: http://latenightpoets.com/
Also the first official newsletter is out, and I'm going to have to provide a link for it, because after three hours of trying to upload it onto DA, I put my head down in defeat. ^.^ Newsletter.
To a war-torn girlYou are so much moreTo a war-torn girl by MozartsNemesis
than body parts and ash.
You are more than battle scars
on knuckles, wrists, or heart.
You are more than a refugee
huddled in a blanket on the far side of a fire,
and I will not let you forget it.
You are steel-spined and soft-hearted,
ocean-born and tempest annealed.
You have strode into fire and famine
to stare death in it's face
and you have wept for those consumed;
Your tears do not speak to weakness.
Your eyelids are seared with memories
that would crush mere men with the weight of them,
yet still you sing hymns of remembrance and
anthems of a persevering future.
You are a reassuring lighthouse on a violent shore
and though the rains may march and thunder cannonade,
you stand, illuminated, a beacon of hope,
a message clear:
Whatever may come, it will not wreck you,
for I have walked through worse.
Bitter goes both waysThere was more joy in your smile thanBitter goes both ways by MozartsNemesis
in a lifetime of heartfelt hallelujahs.
Oh, but you never smiled just for me.
You insist on calling me at three AM
when all the world is dead to sleep.
Oh, but you know I'll be here listening.
Tell me again how being cryptic makes you special,
why there are blindfolds on both of us.
Oh, but you never cared enough to see.
I tore brain cells and hamstrings,
learning to walk and write to you at the same time.
Oh, but you never hesitated to walk right over me
and now you're afraid because my voice
is just another death knell hallelujah.
Oh,There's no one left to weep for thee.
Pick apart a loyal heart,and pay for liberation.
Hope is thin to cull the din, for no one heeds damnation.
Clichei. true loveCliche by winterkate
& you were that one famous line
of a love poem 1863 sonnet
scripted down your spine, verses
of sternum & shuddering heartbeat.
i remember the sheets twisted blue
as the eventide, your eyes like thelassia,
that species of ocean grass. we swayed
to the music of galaxies colliding.
our song was the day the tides
finally curled round the moon's face.
eventides, thelassia eyes, moon
great and heavy as that one lucky coin
that refused to land, to grant a wish
or let luck decide for us. there were
star crabs scuttling under your
oragami skin. & i never realized
all the ways that you folded
until the doctor came back &
you folded into yourself,
please don't tell me it was disease.
please don't mention the fact
that there was a constellation
blossoming underneath your skin
as if it excuses the metaphor
of your candle-eyes dimming.
i was there for the treatment.
you weren't, rag-doll girl. you
hung limp as wet clot
Two Cents and Mirror ShardsShe wears her worth around her neckTwo Cents and Mirror Shards by SomethingOnceSacred
In the form of
From ninety-three years ago
And rusty locks,
Strung on an iron chain,
Along with broken
Keys that go to
She knows of
She finds them, on
Street corners and in forgotten,
Treating them like
And long-lost friends;
She hangs them near her core
To try and remember
Where all the pieces go,
Where they all come from.
Maybe one day.
Is made of a shattered mirror
In the hopes of
Being able to see
Something that isn't on the outside.
She is not sure
Exactly what that is
None of her parts match;
She constructs herself
Out of odds and ends
That others have thrown away.
She is cracked,
She would not know
How to fix herself
If she was whole.
She strings up
Old bottle caps and
Passages from decaying books
While she tries to fasten together
Shards of glass
That leave empty spaces
She loves them
How else is light
Supposed to shine through
Without a few ho
Poets of Lates is dedicated to the celebration of creative minds. We are a welcoming forum for poems, stories, art and ideas. We encourage absolute beginners, seasoned pros and anyone in between.
All we ask is that everyone be treated with respect. Poets of Lates is a reflection of our community spirit. A place to share, develop and reveal the best parts of ourselves.
If you have any questions, feel free to message me, MozartsNemesis, any time.
Other useful links: Late Night Poets on AoL in case some of you out there want to drop by and chat with the lovely people on AoL.
Chat Roller- For you facebook poets out there, this one lets you chat and is available through FB.
For our Veterans - to all the veterans out there, we salute you, and we thank you. Some amazing patriotic poetry here.
Causes- A list of the various causes we support.
Poet of the Month- Every month we feature a poet, and there are some awesome ones on this page.
Improv Poetry- A new thing, happening in our aol chat room, come out and join the fun!
Also we're going to be mirroring the Late Night Poets poetry challenges here on DA..more of that to come with the next update!
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Current Residence: Amarillo, Texas|
Favourite genre of music: Country or Rock, some metal
Favourite photographer: Larry W. Stone
Favourite cartoon character: Bryan from Family Guy
Personal Quote: The only thing in this world that you can count on from people is that they will let you down.
If you would like to listen to a sample of poems read by the author (Me!) There's is a soundcloud.com/mozartsnemesis here.