[x]

There's Something Wrong with Norman BatesLoving you was like seeing absent color,
the unforgiving grays of a poet's December,
waking from a nightmare to a sky devoid of
stars and the moon sunk in the ocean.

The moment I laid eyes on you was the epoch
of my detachment…the collapse of all serenity.

You told me that your parents were dead and buried-
But sometimes they called your name from the wine cellar.
I begged you to haunt me when the lights were off;
"Ghosts won't bother other ghosts." I said

You went to the other side of the room and stared
at a fly dying on the windowsill. When the creature finally
stopped moving, you looked at me with e

MyiagrosYou went quietly
Like granite with finesse
Days and nights
The come down monster

I had a drink
Six, seven, eight more
Always and sometimes
Completely nothing

The weeks of illness
Before it pulled your eyes shut
No small talk
Just plain, empty time

I walked to the store for smokes
Struggled not to howl
There was fly paper nailed to the register
Legs still moving

And I knew what they were buzzing for
Hell had found you first

The Last Lie of SummerQuiet days, the overcast sky keeps
to itself, ignoring the living for weeks
at a time.

From half a state away-

you could hear trains roll through
towns like mine.

There is peace
and it can't be trusted

Undeserved suspicion
given to the first
fallen leaves.

This was the calm before the calm.
The man that is seen, but
nobody knows.

Promise yourself:
"Tomorrow I will say hello to him."

But we are all too busy dressing healed wounds.

ThursdayRumors of tumors, chatty neighbors, the grateful dead
A broken swing on a deserted playground
And bones; oh, the bones that pile up, more everyday
Thursday I had nothing to say

A weak and pale moon glares down at the snow, impotent
Stars in motion whisper my star-name, calling
Tiny spiders build homes in my beer-soaked brain
Thursday I had nothing to say

Pizza or Chinese for dinner? I can't hold a thought
Craftsmanship went out on a three-hour cruise
Through the swamplands of South Carolina in the rain
Thursday I had nothing to say

A brass-toothed journeyer shines a light in dark corners
Nudges and pokes at the beasts sleeping t

Acid Girl 04She once told me that Mexican nights were shorter
With enough pills, October can be one long day
Those eyes never promised calm waves or Novocain

There's tequila in our mouthwash
The problem is I don't see this as a problem anymore
Nine out of ten dentists recommend swallowing the worm

An air conditioner is smoking somewhere downstairs
I breathed in the cold second hand and the minute stopped moving
We're only alive part time- cashing our rain checks in rubber boots

On the weekends, she doesn't know that it's the weekend
I'm always aware of footprints in the mud and snow
If they take the trash, it's Thursday

The puppy calendar on

Deception in RedHandling the blackened red pepper
that so resembled
a human heart in her hands,
she peeled the skin
and left it sweating in the sink.

With her fingertips pink
from the stolen pigment
she put printed swirls
on the wood laminate.

And there she'll dare the sunset
the same shade she's accustomed to.

CruxI’m only sure of two things:
I still carry pieces of your cross on my back and
lilies were your favorite flower

Those last three months-

A silent drive home from the mall
purse full of stolen makeup

Dinners with my family where no one
bothered to make the conversion

Endless hours spent looking at paint samples
and I was smart to not buy the brushes

The line at the liquor store blended
with the lines on the road

At the same time with you
without you

Then it was summer and you talked me into a country drive. We stopped on the side of the road to watch a cow giving birth in the center of a pasture. But, the calf never rose to it

Stacks OverflowWho has time for a nervous breakdown
when stacks overflow the plate?
He told me he couldn't remember the last time
you spoke to him without slurred speech.

To think, the only reason I made it this far
was to save that which you threw away;
now I'm trying to dig out of this hole,
but I'm afraid you dug it too deep.

Yet, it seems you refuse to acknowledge
that which is too painful to see.
Cover the mirrors and race from sobriety
while our boy hides his missing teeth.

When asked why he deprives the tooth fairy,
he told me to keep the money
and use it to pay the bills.

"I know you didn't cause it, Dad,
but please get u

Stepping StonesI rip pages
out of poetry books,
the titles of
Shakespeare
and Plath
and Dickinson
littering the floor
like trash,
and I wonder
if we don't all
wind up stepping stones
in the end.

CombustionI can smell the smoke from fires
that tease the sky outside,
in suburban gardens
that make up this city;
set around a cathedral
like the centre of a clock face.

From the inhalation
I have ash on my tongue
and on my teeth.
It may whiten the enamel
the way bicarbonate soda does.
My smile reads like a newspaper,
may I replace it daily
as I press the grey into my gums
and try to outwit my reflection.

I have gathered cuttings
from new growths;
the saplings are far too young burn.
They must know the flames.
I hear them scream
from beneath the bark –
it does not burn but blacken.

The blossom is browning
having fallen from the branch
beside

Before The Stars FadeThe world has grown smaller, more insignificant
Little men run about in the darkness, screaming their inanities
Quiet listening is abandoned in favor of shouting louder
over the top of one's neighbors

Dreams once soft and sweet have become meat for them
to tear apart and grind with their teeth, demanding recognition
But no one is ever fulfilled, untiringly grasping at shadows
The world shrinks a little more, and children grow up fast

I can hear the screaming and shouting from my bed, through
closed windows, all want to make their presence known
Seeing like a cat, hearing like a bat, I feel the need to go out and
shout with them, t

IngressThe lustre of exposed low wattage bulbs
misleads a moth into the bathroom,
where dampened wings would keep it
moving in circles on the off-white wall.
The repetition of the circumference
opens the brickwork to the sky.

A truck driver pulls into a service station
after waiting for the mileage to outdo the clock.
While washing his hands
he kills the moth with his thumb,
and with his fist is pulled through;
a feeling similar to the sensation described
in the one book he’s read.

It was always area codes he remembered
that without the sister digits
are worthless, as much use
as the telephone box he stands in.
He has a road map
but not fo

The MarshlandFrom the riverbank
he went and wept
with a woman in his arms.
She bled
staining the cocktail dress red
from two bullet wounds in her chest.

His foot swelled
from a fractured ankle;
the bear trap he stepped in
hid in the marshlands.
There were many more ahead.

And there they found them,
taking seven steps a minute.
They formed a half moon
with their weapons readied.
They each fired once
and left them,
putting their bloodied fronts together
in the water meadow.

StainsI.

You burned the eggs and wrote scripture
in the shadows of a lunar eclipse.
I haven't slept for years, but it took the far away
scream of a siren to convince me that
the moon is a liar.

Body bags are filled with better men.
There are rivers of oil where I can't seem to break
The mirrors that flaunt your reflection.

II.

You couldn't dare me to walk across that bridge.
You couldn't ask me to sit through a full sermon
and still remain humble.

I'll never be home before the street lights come on and
you'll never hold my hand in the day time.
We're both clinical fools.

"The only difference between poison and medici

How Soon She Found the SeaThe hooks in the tool shed
are made naked
by calloused hands
and fingertips dipped in ethanol.

From peroxide to ebony
by way of apology,
there's sense in change
where absence affirms affection.

Two swelling ships, her lips,
weigh anchor with port
to starboard bow –
between the sea and salt
and guilt on the rocks.

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More from ~RussianTim

Next Come Elvis SightingsOh. That's a cow. Another day and this heat
will burst it's underside wide open.
Nature is a surgeon. Don't tell me those big headed
Space men drove to Indiana for three stomachs
and a heart. This isn't a scavenger hunt.
Gravity is enough to drain the water from the sky
but if blood is missing it's a government conspiracy.
The rectum and sex organs were stolen which is enough
to make anyone walking down this country road feel
uncomfortable.
Ravens are picky and vultures are perverse.
I'll humor you because Martians can't do worse
things to our meat than these cult members
and Vietnam veterans already do.
And lest we forge

Our Fine CuisineWould you like fries with that?

SlothI am sl

Those Drunken ConfessionsHe dropped into the chair next to mine.
He didn't sit with any grace, but rather fell and
Landed with the copious luck of a drunk
Being catered to by a cautious guardian angel.

"The truth is", he slurred his speech.
Beer ran down his wrinkled shirt as he took
A gulp from a rather large, frosty mug.
"The truth is, I've been sleeping with Sherry,
For almost a year now."
I take a sip from my drink and signal the bar
Tender to bring me another.
"I love her Ed. I've always loved her,
But I love you too. You're my best friend."
He starts crying and wraps his giant arms
Around my thin frame. I'm pretty sure
This love is going to

The HandI found a woman's hand underneath a dented refrigerator. A thin layer of ash blackened what would have otherwise been dove colored skin. She was married. I wanted to judge her happiness based on the size of the diamond. It's hard to put a face with a hand. I still try. I conjure a picture of a loving couple on their way home from Bermuda. Maybe they take this trip every year. I hope they were holding each other when the plane went down. I hope it was a little easier to die knowing the person you love is right beside you. I can't bring myself to pick the hand up. I know it belongs with the rest of her remains, if there were any, but my st

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Vie Noir

by ~RussianTim, Oct 13, 2012, 10:13:45 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

You were the promise of regret,
destiny wrapped in an egg shell,
something that temperance would not allow.

And you looked at me with cloudy eyes,
sipping your excuses while choking on tomorrow.

(We were the privileged few that God chose to endure the hopeless)

And you cursed my name while confessing every lie.
My borders grew as you clawed for the limits of absolution.

(We were the privileged few whose skin was hard to pierce)

And you loaded that gun with false bravado and ill intent.
The world was watching as you aimed it at the future.

(We were the privileged few who never forget to empty the chamber)

And you stared into the nothing, hoping to find me there…

Vie Noirby ~RussianTim

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

hmmm I don't know. I wasn't in such a good mood when I wrote this. The title means Black Life. Structurally it is slightly different from what I normally do with the couplets and line in parentheses that follows. Overall I'm happy with the piece. As always I appreciate comments and helpful feedback.

Critique by ~LuvThemHungerGames Oct 17, 2012, 9:13:12 PM

Hello there

Thanks for inviting me to critique this poem.

I'd like to start off with my overall thoughts on your poem. It was very moving in the glorious way that dark poetry can be. Lighting up thoughts living in the deepest recess's of our minds. This is deffinelty something that your audience can identify with because it is so open. It isn't a specific situation that you've written about (but surely written on), and leaves it open to the reader's feelings so they can identify it with something in their lives that made them feel similar. This is a great technique to use to creat connections with those that you read.

The diction is just about right. Not to "fluffy" or complex, but just right. It has enough artistic flury to add character and depth to the poem, but not enough to take away from your mesage.

The imagery/vision was good.. not great... but good

However, in this particular poem I think it would muddle up you poem if you used crystal clear vision due to the fact you are keeping this open.

Hope this helps! If you have any questions, comments, or complaints feel free to elaborate on them! It is often suprising how often the critiquer needs to be critiqued themselves.

Keep on writting! Thanks again