[x]

Waiting for a coach
and four
that never came,
she realized
a ball gown
won't bloom
out of sackloth;
glass slippers
are not dependable
and mice
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
man.

IcarusSun girl,

the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.

Do not let anyone
clip your wings;

you were made for the skies.

Definition of a Writerwrit•er

noun /rītər/

A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery

They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish

A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own

They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone

Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.

The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress

Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.

A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.

Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn&rsqu

moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:

giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --

burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.

it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.

Broken Birds and Stark PhrasesWe slip and slide and fall
down curves and carrow places.
We cursive at the wall
in our undefinéd spaces.

Disjointed limbs extend
to strumpet our arrival,
to warn who are not friends
we will kill to survive all.

Hung upside-down haunters
hug branches in the Forrest.
Merry nightmare monsters,
Cheery snarling chorus,

Arachnic children know;
you can run but you can't hide
from this disparic truth,
darkness waits for you inside.

Although you seek the sun,
as all creaky spinsters might,
the night can't be out done
and it has you in its sight.

L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
Saving myself
Being who
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that

For every boy I ever kissedi.

you took my hand 'neath the magnolia
at a christmas dinner party I held.
your mouth was cold. so were my affections.

ii.

you were the first man to listen to me.
i let you listen to my heartbeat; but
when the day fell away, you bruised me deep.

iii.

you were my safe harbour, and i your storm
turning your misery to naught but air
but i squirmed away from your tongue, repulsed.

iv.

you were my cradle, when i couldn't sleep
you would hold me close and pray for something,
anything, to keep me safe. (it was you).

v.

eleven months spent sleeping with my phone,
i still couldn't believe when you kissed me
even after midnight struck us agai

Missing piecesMissing pieces

There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk in pieces, howling
around my heart.

-SophieCT, 2012, 2013

field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.

Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs

I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight

I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family

I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push

I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"

I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says

I can't trust anyone because they do

The PoetFor the work of a Poet to be truly appreciated
he must write it with his own blood and tears for ink
his soul the sharpened quill to nail the words
like so many specimen of unwilling insects upon the paper.

And once he has bled out
becoming the cause of his own demise
the reader is left behind to digest his soul
so plainly trapped within a cage of words
his requiem written as a love song to his Muse.

MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings

Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee

van houten must be godi. you know how in embroidered cloth,
from the bottom under the design,
all you see are knots? her honey-like,
crying
voice lulls me to sleep,
that's what we see of God's plan.
just the knots. when in reality,
it's the design on top;
beautiful and flawless that He
has in store for us.
bullshit.
i learnt that word
when i was three
but every time i said it,
my face hurt and mom's hand fell.
God will put you
in hell.
do you want that?
i knew better than to say it again.
ii. you're an estimated
fallacy, the perfect
misconception.
you don't need to exist
for people to believe.
they make you real with
dancing tongues behind
a crowd
of murmuring lips of
god's will.
iii. of the rain,
i sang songs, whispering
prayers only you
could hear.
if you truly are
what they say for you to be,
then there are no secrets
between you and me.
mother still sings
the same songs
in the rain, hoping
you'll hear her the way
i thought you would.
but she doesn't know you died long ago
with chiv

thieves of nocturne skiesPaper lanterns are midnight requiems
That tell me to look beyond the
light and have &

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dream that you had

by ~FigoTheCat, Oct 21, 2010, 3:24:02 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

The answer was in the dream that you had
But upon waking up, you went back to bed.

dream that you hadby ~FigoTheCat

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

ho hum

~ibrunswick Oct 21, 2010

I wish I had a nickel for every time this has happened to me

~FigoTheCat Oct 21, 2010 Hobbyist Photographer

i tried to record my dreams once-- i left a notebook beside my bed.. actually that helped.. but i laughed one morning reading what i had scrawled on an otherwise empty page: "everyone was there.. ruepert and odin, too" (two dogs i lived with for a while)

~ibrunswick Oct 21, 2010

Do you lucid dream? I trained myself in that for awhile, keeping a dream journal is part of it, and found the experience very interesting.

~FigoTheCat Oct 21, 2010 Hobbyist Photographer

i have had one experience in my dream with the knowledge that i was dreaming-- it was a recurring dream where i would have to walk around some giant spiders on a sandbar by wading into the river around them... when i realized i was having it, i just decided i needed to tell myself somehow that i was dreaming... so i waded into the water and it carried me opposite of the direction i was traveling.. i climbed up and out of the river into a building.. opened the door to a small room... i was already inside sitting down at a table alone in the room.. so i told myself i was dreaming.. and then i woke up. are there any other steps that you can share? any habits that you think help your ability to lucid dream?

~ibrunswick Oct 22, 2010

Yes! You can look at the work of Stephen LeBerge (I believe this is the correct spelling as I sit here, but if I discover differently I will mail the correction to you). He sort of codified the information I will give you. Keeping a dream journal is important, and as you appear to have done in the above dream, try to see, hear, and smell as many details as you can remember. I also put notes up around the house and places I frequent, something simple like "Are you dreaming? How do you know?" The key is to get into the habit of questioning yourself about reality and how it differs from the dream world. That increases the likelihood that you will ask yourself the same questions while you are dreaming, in which case the answer is "Yes! I'm dreaming!" Time sequence is important-the questions would be "what was the order of events that led to this point? do they make temporal sense?". Do the people you are encountering look and act familiar? Note the lack of surrealistic details, the normal colors. Compare and contrast to the dream state. Be aware when you are in that twilight state just before you go to sleep-you know, when your thoughts go slipping and sliding in free association (That is one of the coolest things about a person's mental state in my opinion). All these things are designed to increase your awareness of the difference between dreaming and reality. Finally, tell yourself just before you go to sleep that you will become aware while you are dreaming. There is a lot of information about this stuff out there, but what I have given you should get you started (hmm, just though of something else you could try-DRAW details from your dream! I never tried that.) And the writer I cited is spelled Stephen LaBerge. There is also a very interesting book out there called "The Dreaming Brain" by J. Allan Hobson that explores the dreaming brain as a physical state. Good Luck!

~FigoTheCat Oct 22, 2010 Hobbyist Photographer

i shall begin at once

i think instead of drawing the dreams, i want to write them into poems.. not with the intention of glorifying or interpreting meaning, but to truncate and simplify what specifically struck me about the dreams.

when i was a child, i had an awful experience-- two really horrific nightmares in one night.. it had a profound effect on my person.. i became very depressed for days into weeks. i would break into tears without warning.. colors even became less colorful... my mom didn't know what to do... eventually she decided to sit me down and have me describe to her both the dreams in detail.. she then gave me matches and let me burn the images outside in the yard... this helped.. the dreams are still with me, though.. some tragic stuff happened in them. the end of the world and the brutal death of a bully. both dreams involved signals in the sky.. during the end of the world dream, there was a cloud shape.. almost like a roman numeral.. but something i have never seen before.. and i knew during that point in the dream (presumably having watched a news story about said cloud shape in a previous dream?) that the shape meant the end of the world.. there was massive flooding and military men were taking civilians onto boats.. the death of a bully was by the hand of a schoolmate who i would later become friends with... the sky was a deep orange color..

i think keeping a record of dreams is a very prudent thing to do.. our subconscious is always trying to tell us something, we should probably listen.

~ibrunswick Oct 22, 2010

And you will love this about lucid dreaming...it is very empowering! You can confront dream characters and ask them just what the hell they are doing in your dream. You can leave situations by flying (flying is a wonderful dream sensation) or just wake up. I am so gratified that you can share this with me, and hope that you will continue to keep in touch with your dream life. I enjoy looking at your photographs, the ones with your friends, illustrating your outdoor life and good times. (you might look at Gestalt Therapy theory as an interesting sidelight to the way our subconscious speaks to us. I loved it for the longest time...)

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