Posts tagged Poetry.

Lost Love

It used to be M + T. 
but now my heart is empty. 
even if the ocean holds plenty
my heart still beats immensely.
for love again. i wait for its entry. 
and only then my heart will beat gently. 


All tomorrow’s sorrows whisper gently to the wind

As the sun shines the scars across your desert skin

Days Are One

January starts with a bang

Not the good kind, it bites with fangs

February everyone wants love

We all reach out but we’re pushed and shoved

March is the time when we finally dance

The girls are sowed for a new romance

In April it pours like wet cement

Can’t even breathe or say what you meant

May is the time everyone gets hugs

But it’s only because we’re all on drugs

In June, the flowers start to bloom

Our heads fill with poise like pink balloons

Everything gets hotter in July

We hide from the sun and fear the sky

August is the time Rome starts to fall

Even the tallest man feels four feet small

September’s when everything’s better

You write all your secrets in a drunken letter

In October we all become ghosts

Trying to find the soul who’s our perfect host

By November, we all become numb

We start talking down like everyone’s dumb

Finally December, the Count’s winding down

He hides in his castle and pawns his crown

In between the days all melt into one

You buy yourself a bullet for your broken gun

Pull the trigger and watch the hammer go click

So you find old dynamite and light the wick

Meanwhile I just stand and watch

I laugh like a coward and drink my scotch

I laugh like a coward and drink my scotch

The dead tree smiles knowingly at all the things man cannot see for it knows all the secrets buried deep that man can only keep once he falls asleep in the ground beneath his feet… 

Exploding Buffalo Zine: Religion Issue VII

One More Sunday

The next issue of EB Zine is upon us and here is a short story written by EB’s Jonathan Sheppard. 

It Only Burns Forever

A lip stick smeared photograph

left dangling from her hand

Her love was now a discarded polaroid

that she couldn’t rip into pieces 

It only burns, she remembered

The flame so close to her fingers

It left a scar that stayed until her demise

But the polaroid refused to catch fire

She wondered if it was photo that refused

to burn of if it was her ex in the white frame

All the rest burned just fine, she thought

But the rest were parasitic jackals

who fed on her flesh to satisfy their craving

Everyone before this one had a smile

But this one had no smile or frown

He had a face that knew it was looming

Not the end of his life, but of the time

They had together which was a year

He wasn’t that special she’d say

And yet the photo refused to burn

The eyes in the photo haunted her thoughts

They would speak to her and define her

The cracked marble girl who embodied

A silent movie star yet continued to be

the center of every potent conversation

She knew that their relationship would fail

She was going to play him like a skipping

record stuck on Solitude by Billie Holiday

She played their greatest hits again and again

He wasn’t anything special, but he knew me

Nobody could see the frightened nightingale

hidden beneath her smile of concealed desertion

Her cry for intimacy was overshadowed by

her brightly feathered young body

The same she used to enslave and

betray the boy beyond his capacity

to forgive and forget

The photo is all that was left of him

It refused to burn like the rest, so

She buried it in her backyard and

hoped that it would decompose

Soon after a small plant grew out

from the spot, but it withered when

she tried watering it out of pity

Of course she found others to play with after

But nobody could find the melody of her music

Her solo would sail over waves of masculine dissonance

with a few moments of harmony that would go off key

Once, they had found each other in a super market

and couldn’t help but stare when the other wasn’t

She acted nonchalant as did he under sunglasses

But their hearts were beating at the same manic pace

They were too scared to utter a word much less

a wave of a hand to say hello or catch up

Her eyes were hidden behind lolita shades

not revealing the tears fighting to break out

His face was a hollow shell of ambiguity

Hiding the fact that he wished for this moment

They were both alone, inside and out

And with a deathly cough they disappeared

Never to see the other again except in memories

That night, she dug up the remnants of the photo

and discovered that it had changed

Now there was an old woman standing alone

She was neither smiling nor frowning

She kissed the photo and shed a tear

The girl drew a match from her pocket

putting the flame beneath the polaroid

Hoping that it might finally burn

Realer Than Flesh

image

Exploding Buffalo Zine Issue VI: Sexuality

EB Zine: Social Media Issue V