http://www.themagicalblog.com Poetry for the masses by the masses. Let your thoughts flow... Tue, 12 Aug 2008 00:25:47 +0000 http://backend.userland.com/rss092 en She asks me how I did it, rid myself of it Separated him from me like the milky membrane of raw chicken breast... I am flattered that she looks to me, that I've been tossed in every flavor of storm to survive and spit its rainbows at each end. "It takes time." Though not always in that ... http://www.themagicalblog.com/2008/08/11/she-asks-me/ I write. Call it a stigma, the real writers do were they to say it more or less eloquently. I feel that I can't compete... too many perfect words written, appropriately sung against silence. Even the cliches have a sacred chicness that "status quo" sounds like it has. That my words can't compare...well, I just hope that they exert enough ... http://www.themagicalblog.com/2008/08/11/i-write/ Subtract the distance and age does not matter With two guns to our hearts It is the words in autumn that save us from rage I can not be anymore truthful And this can not be more than what it is Late nights, no sleep, and my wings are bleeding. While one great light has developed ... http://www.themagicalblog.com/2008/08/09/the-angel/ A broken, beaten, porcelain doll with dark curls and pale skin emerald eyes and rosebud lips revealing nothing and speaking none because her eyes are closed and her mouth is shut and her curls fall limp and her skin is cold and she does not move because she's afraid to live and afraid to die so she does nothing because it's easier ... http://www.themagicalblog.com/2008/07/30/porcelain-doll/ Sometimes he sits For hours at a time Staring at the wall Waiting for nothing Because nothing is all there is Sometimes he cuts himself Because there's nothing else to do Sometimes he thinks about Buying a gun Sometimes he believes he will Sometimes he sleeps For two days straight He has no reason to wake up The endless nothing is all he ... http://www.themagicalblog.com/2008/07/24/sometimes/ On the inside of your palm; one faint pink indention On the outside of your thigh; two bold scars On your arm just by the shoulder; three jagged lines On your arm just by the wrist; four leftover slashes On your heart, deep in your chest; ten bloody marks that are dripping as if weeping.. http://www.themagicalblog.com/2008/07/14/physical-memories/ I'm breaking down beneath my breath, Your craving hands unclose me. Conflagrant conversation, a hundred summers, Melt the holds below me. The whispered din behind closed doors Pulls us both below, The waves of what we're waiting for, Crashing on the lamp-light glow. Our turning hands together tangle, In knots that tie themselves, Around, around, in every angle, As shadows ... http://www.themagicalblog.com/2008/07/10/slow-motion-rush/ Maybe he can drown thatthere love of his like his liver--no bigger than a dime now but still worthy of the ten pennies in his pocket. She's covered with dayburst all the way up to heaven. 80 days gone, six foot deep like an Ophelia once read about 30 years before. Nothing hurts much like death ... http://www.themagicalblog.com/2008/06/26/carlos-blue/ A feeling, emotion that you call the physical pain below your ribs above your stomach below your heart above your hips. You've waited for this, nearly half your life was spent hoping, wishing for it. It's not what you expected. The feeling doesn't sweep you away or cause a warm haziness. It's a stab of worry a pinch of unease a slash of doubt a ... http://www.themagicalblog.com/2008/06/26/only-nerves/ We are all born alike, created in love, conceived as a blessing. But the hatred of the world usurps our beauty leaving lustful, voluptuous, vultures in our stead. Is the love we receive a gift out of truth? Or does obligation slip resent into play? Mother loves her baby Groom loves his bride I question these bonds: for mankind's too ... http://www.themagicalblog.com/2008/06/22/the-way-of-the-world/