The crystals glint on glass windows,
luminous blue and chrome on silver metals,
colliding and collapsing on humanity’s
inventions and forgotten, unknown, to the world. All warmth is compressed into nothing--
nothing natural exists; fiery breath
burns synthetic steam and, scorched, evaporates
against the sterile electric pearls-- concoctions of death and loneliness
prescribed to masses who know no better,
healthy doses of abandonment and sorrow,
convinced their eyes a
I’ve known dead who
grab the steering wheel.
Each time I wish
they wouldn’t catch me with their eyes like
I’m something that’s been
broken. I’ve sworn I’m
fine, I’m not lying, I’m just neglecting to
talk about the reasons
behind my wrinkles and
the cracks in the plaster on my skin.
The truth is, I’ve
yelled more about love
than sworn over mistakes. Mikael Vinke was previously an acting major at NYU and is now working on a degree in game design at UTD. Mikael has s
first, it singes the bottom of my stomach
i’m branded, and I know it.
my eyes grow tighter inside of their suction cup homes,
as I twist them around in search of supplemental stimulant.
this noise is never enough. next, I become aware of my heart beat.
each pump drowns me, sends shivers into the strands of my hair,
oh god, let me find good grace at the top of the ceiling,
or the bottom of my drink,
lord knows i'll need it. usually around this time I make a decision, o
On the first day You are a lover.
You are fragile, soft
Not unlike how a bruise is tender and your smile just as purple.
You are the nectar of suffering,
Cataclysmic in your affection. On the second day We love with our eyes closed and teeth bared.
I was never taught that the velvet of words and contusions are actually the same thing. You come in
from the garden laughing wildly, mouth unmoored and saccharine.
Smelling of honey-flowers, lavender, the sweetest and saddes
I wasn’t kidding when I said
“You kill me, kid”
Deep, hot breath like fire in my bones and
Your hands two stitches sewing up my hips I got so drunk off the scent of your skin
Blood loss by a bitten bottom lip
Blindness, because the look in your eyes was no match for mine
Cause of death: side smiling Are these love-bites or lacerations
Handprints where they shouldn’t be
Chicken pox goosebumps
98.6 degree burns where you touched me Walk-of-shame eyebags
Nausea from ne
Do your ghosts promise to love
you too? Mine write to me,
their letters always signed fittingly. I
know it’s a lie, yet still
play the innocent child each time,
following them down the hall to the dark room with the swaying
light. Their words are hushed whispers
crawling up each and every hair
on my neck until all stand
at attention, the good little soldiers
they are, readying to fire back. My eyes will come down quick,
fissures running out from each corner,
When you won the race, you had not been slow and steady: 1) You moved so swiftly through the trail, you made wind flurries that swept the lance-leaves of all the Kapoks. 2) Your strikes were electrostatic. When your midfoot would land, you’d crash the Earth like a mud log. Great gushers blew freely. I followed you by following the well fires. 3) You perspired molten plankton that then formed a mesocyclone. Wall clouds rotated over wild cows by the path. I heard the rai
From the first glance I could tell she’d been kissed by the sun. Her complexion was ruddy as the Colorado, copper and zinc mixed into her cool waters. Her eyes were deep blue pools of infinite depth, an iridescent, shimmering expanse; I couldn’t look into them for long, had to come up for air. But she could look into mine. Her hair was tied back, and though it was still it seemed to flow like the wind, a brown current that rose and fell without end. She is a radiant sunbeam,
My eyes were open too long and a draft has gotten in
shedding light on all my many sins
now this room is creeping
suggestions of something haunted and dangerous A subtle wind blows between my heart and lungs
my neglect my indifference
let it enter in the first place
my ribs and the spaces
spread to make space
my organs shuffled to accommodate Starving on the inside
my mind the open sea
my chest the night sky
Go where I wish to be and feast on worms Fly back
And become someone
Else’s envy Wisps of life
made so hollow
In dead eyes and tepid wings Carry my ambitions for me
When I send you off
To never meet again I’ll never think "Star-winged thing-
Fly where you wish Without thought of winter or cold Or the deadness of the earth
Or beyond your will or
The breath of your young," For if I had
There would be no chirping
to carry my heart across in spring
I am powerless as I watch my world in turmoil I try to calm it down But I am only throwing oil at a fire I am slowly realizing its end as I see no changes, despite the effort I close my eyes and try to forget But it's hard when the air smells of ash I am cowering as the sound of the flames grow I cover my ears and try to reason But the voices inside had died out I am a husk of myself as I see my world in debris There were nothing I could do But sit and watch as it all burns d
A point blank stare is a fire in the rain A wide-awake nightmare that We are all the same Your mind takes flight As it enters your soul Deeper and deeper Into the rabbit hole It only stops where Nobody goes A widespread pain is a fire not contained Burning wild and free like You and me Hear Ye, Hear Ye! This is what life ought to be Abandoning ideologies Defeating all indignities Discovering our identities Leaving blood upon my eyes Like shedding flaming tears Only when we se
How many days
do I need
to blur my eyes
in front of
just to get
before my brain
to the point
and before I
to a cloud
where my files
and not transfer
to a cloud
I'm currently using
to type this poem? Jack M. Freedman is a poet and spoken word artist from Staten Island, NY. He penned th
Arms wide open, facing the horizon,
I let go into the fall, shattered heart in tow.
Wind whips past my hair,
adrenaline courses through my veins.
I close my eyes in somber bliss,
reveling in the tranquil silence.
A fall to never return from,
a fall to the unknown depths,
I fall into the inviting sea, a stormy sea.
Water clouds my vision, waves swirling around.
I gasp for air, searching for a redemption.
An outstretched hand, my heart beats in relief.
Dust on the windowsill again, reclaimed from things forgotten.
As the door opens, the sun sets and you
walk in with turtles in your eyes full
enough to make your expression expressionless. “It’s nothing,” you say, “the hurting itself—
it’s the ceaselessness, the way it’s so heavy
how pain only ends by more pain.”
Your eyes stand beyond crying, their tears dried themselves. No words could equal it, not to you.
I’m powerless, like a sun forced to set
against its will. W
Peel yourself off the wall
your spider eyes can catch me up
when I arrive, you can devour me
Your garden is empty, deflowered
by the storm you guide directly into place I’ve seen your face before,
I know the prints you leave behind Clouded judges in the box
Crowded criminals inside your prisons
Will the riots start
now that I’ve changed lanes?
I’ve lost my legs,
a trail of dust leading back to the fall
Call me till you get sick of the busy tone
The insides of bone
because you stood there for a moment
waiting to finally figure out a way to make sense you became more aware
of what awaits and what was lying in a patched couch
you spoke what was on your mind elaborate lies, but you didn’t know you were in a cave, while other people worked hard you considered life’s opportunities
and took none of them it wasn’t out of fear
nor was it out of laziness
a cold beer and a joint made you feel enlightened and suddenly everything else was gon
I feel the rhythm of the moon in the base of my skull.
Can you feel it too? It’s slender fingers
slipped into the top of my neck, and pulled me out through it. I was above me, looking down
at a familiar stranger. I stare into the face of the man,
and although I recognize myself there, I feel as if those eyes
are lying. I want those eyes to leave.
I want the comfort of steel
to shift the skin from the bone,
so I don’t have to bother with meat. I want to be better.
I think of the dull mechanical displacement of the train station, the countenance of dead clocks in a placid bar before dark. Geese are outside with their beady eyes chewing petals like bloody sinews, and the fish shift like the encroachment of frost on a window... this subtle, transitory bliss. The city is calm as a rock,
the rain steadfastly shifting on a stump of oak (the great clangs of the iron pendulum blossom to ominous dongs), and I am not quite here. J.B. is an Engl
blocks of shattered seashells on fire ridged and burning in my stomach up to my sternum my lungs closing in my heart mingles with the smoke that travels to my head the tidal tears building behind my eyes being stopped like a sand dune suppresses the waves the current traveling up into my brain pressures my skull till it bursts down to my eyes the hurricane welcomes the pressure of the sea salt water crashing over me i am drowning deep wishing to swim out of the water but the