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Mother EarthMy body is the earth;
See how under this bruise
A seed of malcontent sleeps.
See what grows out of each pore
As the pain pours over again.
There is rust in my fingerbeds
That poisons the roots
Of all good that hopes to grow here.
I am the convulsing, revolution
of the convoluted Earth...
I am the tectonic blades that clash
and shout when I curl up and hide.
You will feel me when I tremble,
and fear me when I explode
for under the magmanimous skin
There burns a core of hate
That can't be marred by human hand.
HAIKUWRIMOCOMPLETE 2013

February 28th, 2013

Dire desperation
A feeble whimper for help;
roar of these raw times.

February 27th, 2013

Gluttonous ash cloud
sucks the moon's blood
and swallows the night.

February 26th, 2013

Bark! An explosion!
Angry bodies escape the
network of lung cells.

February 25th, 2013

Silently cloning,
multiplying, honing in,
determined to kill.

February 24th, 2013

Tea and sympathy
readily available
for my dear sister.

February 23rd, 2013

I will hold my breath
as the north wind does the same
waiting for your love.

February 22nd, 2013

He hovers behind;
Hamletian apparition.
Always following.

February 21st, 2013

A lo
A chance secondI lie awake, staring at the cornices.
3AM: my fingers worry at the corners of my sheet.
My anxiety worries at the corners of my rib.
I bite and tug and huff out my misery
As the silence keeps me awake.
I lay with pressure of your absence
Pressing down over my nose and mouth.
A soft asphixiation of the heart, of the sanity.
It is a hot grey night in London.

You are awake, startled by the sunlight.
7AM: you can't lift your weighty skull from the sheet.
The day sirens, but you stay, settled,
Under the weight of your shroud, your loss,
Only the silence keeps you awake.
Unknowingly, for the first time in weeks
We are unintentionally in sync;
Laid
The White ThingsNothing is as far away as a minute ago.
No matter how hard you row against the tide
we can never reach it, never return there.

It's hard to sleep in the light of my regrets
that creeps through curtain and barriers
to rot away and bleach all things white.

It's hard to sleep knowing that no distance
is as far away as sixty small seconds ago.
Immalleable, we rot, and things turn white.
Sometimes, it's the little things.He always told me I was deep.
An unfiltered distillation of a humanitarian ocean.

He accepted me, gills and all -
  He knew that I needed my eccentricities to breathe
         under the seascrapers of pollution
               that hung over my head.
 Or he said he did.

At the end of it all,
he tugged the gills open to expose me;
    my innards trailed across the coral reef
       as I swam trustingly forward, hoping for the best.
 I tried to believe.

I believed him, gills and all -
But eventually, he left me, with holes in my sides
   Where he had spooned out my intestines
      To tether them to a boulder.
 I tried to breath
BuriedUnder the paprika house,
are the bones of my father
and nestled between rib
and reason, is our love.
Rock BottomThey say a rolling stone gathers no moss,
so when I shudder to a halt
The rocks in my feet continue to grind.
I feel the sand in my lungs
and the regretful mist silting in my heart
as the waves come back in
reaching eagerly for my legs, spooling, churning
over me. Rooted in my misery.
I know the rocks in my feet will help me drown.
ParchmentI speared you with a         black-ink pen.
I tried to balance           the weight
of our weare-worn         shoulders.
Tried to counter         it with beauty
and hopefulness        , with my hopes,
persistence &         with my dark love.
They came to        see it in hundreds,
Droves, of         similarly seeking
hope and         a reason to continue.
Reasons         to love, even when it
hurts.         Reasons to try when the
vast         weight of differences 'tween
us         can't be fixed by adding
a         single strike of strength
        through the middle. Our love
      wasn't strong enough for poetry
     to save. It crum
In absence of a poem.I chewed my pen to the nib
and swallowed the ink thoughtlessly,
but no matter how long I thought,
I couldn't say what you mean to me.

I tried, I tried and I tested,
every word in my diminutive range,
but I screwed up more pieces of paper
and happened upon something strange;

I noticed words, which have served me,
for all of my formative years,
had no power to convey my gratitude
for the times that you dried my tears.

Whenever I doubt myself (often),
You're the one who tells me I'm wrong
You lift up my chin and remind me, wait
for the good things that will come along.

I can't find a way to express how
you are the saving grace in my head.
So
Finding Neverlove - Draft OneHear me read it

I have never loved you.
I did not love you since the day we met,
I did not love you the moment
I looked into your beautiful eyes.

I have never loved your soft voice
As it whispers my name in adoration
And I have never loved the look in your eyes
When you look at me.

I don't love your hair,
Or the way you look in the morning,
Half asleep and vulnerable and shy.
I do not love you.

I did not love you at the first touch,
At the first kiss.
I did not love you the first time,
Or the second time,
Or the last time;
Not even then.

Listen to me carefully -
I have never loved you.
I will never love you.
I will not love you until my
AcheA chink of gold held her tooth together. If she applied pressure she felt the sharp blades dig into her tender gums. If she probed it with her tongue, curious or absent minded it elicited the same bark of pain but she continued to do it nonetheless, convinced that the right amount of pressure could stop the pain.

The tooth fell out.
United, We WriteHear me read it

0hgravity, if by some divine fortune you should decide that today is the day you will fail me, then let me soar through the ChemicalSkyline. Grant me a-lovely-anxiety that raises a storm InTheStarryNightSky for me to riseandbe above all else. Let me soar.

How I long to be the frail rider-on-the-storm and not a victim of the RoamingShadow, Rogue-Of-The-Night, that BlackVelvetNightmare of my nights and days. I long for awaytobefree, won't you grant it to me?

I desire to be great, to feel greatness, to be more than one of many Sad-Writers spinning Sacred-Literature into SanguineEpitaph after saturninesweetness. scarletwave of
ShockwaveFoetal
Trying to fold the pain up
To trap it between the paper cut limbs.
Curled up
Protective
But the shockwaves come
Pulsing from inside
Destroying cells
Radiocactive
Curled up
To trap it between the paper cut limbs.
Trying to fold the pain up.
Foetal.
with a whisperthis is how we rule the world,
       the underclassed
       the uncapitalist
          (uncapitalised)
the forgotten, lobotom-ised,
                       relics
            of a long lost dystopast.

not with a SHOUT,
     we do not argue.
         we do not even unsheath
         our mightier-than-the's.
we whisper in your children's ears
    the memories of what should have been.
                 the life we all crave.

                 the death we all crave.
    WE do not discriminate
              or obstigate
                 our opinions onto others
     pressing the side of the blade
              down onto the fles
Never The Gold.I want my silver back,
I need to melt it down and forge a new connection
With someone else.
I want all the precious bits of myself
that I so willingly quarried for you.
I want my silver back.
Browse More Like This
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More from `KathrynODriscoll

No Entry - Draft One /No Entry

Resilient to weather
And flutterings of blue
Sweep round the paths
Dust and sand
Only twenty until the stool
Since I was a child
On this annual pilgrimage
I have stopped here
At the first seat
With two of fizz
A curl of gold
Slips beneath my feet
As I peer over my past
I can see rows of terracota
Histories
That repeat themselves
The wind flicks at me
And makes me so cold
My tears only roll to half time
I can still smell you here
On day of all days
And remember pushing you
Up this never ending hill
I get up and move on
The spiral of the woods
Open fields!
At last!
Freedom from trees!
I run
Well half way I
MSJames' Fashionable Furs - Draft One /MSJames' Fashionable Furs

They wrapped her up in diamonds
They parcelled her as a package
To sell her to the industry
For her to sell their baggage

Their shoes and their bracelets,
Their watches and their wraps,
Draped in the finest fox furs
On the shoot, a rabbit claps!
Moving On - Draft One /Moving On

I dated this girl for 5 months once,
She wrote the most beautiful poetry...
Twisted, but resonating, through the cut-throat anger,
That hid in the violent words she used about me.

I wanted to step into her lukewarm dreams,
Become part of the words she molded into her fashion.
When I watched her cry I wanted to know how she would describe it;
The sparkling in her tears, the deadness in her eyes.

We dated, although we barely went on dates.
We lived hidden in the spaces in between dates.
The uncomfortable silences and the recriminations.
She was my modern day Juliet - I longed to die for her.

We dated, once, and I longed t
Miss Understanding - Draft One /Mistake my charity,
For eyes being closed,
I'll still give you my promises,
You can have all of those.

Mistake my compassion,
For pure stupidity,
I'll still give you forgiveness,
And eventual humility.

Mistake my sadness,
For talent not despair,
I'll fashion your fairytales,
Out of thin air.

But don't you mistake me,
Me and my sweetness,
Don't mistake my little smiles,
For simple weakness.

If I'm always there for you,
It's just 'cos I care.
It's not so you'll use me,
Or you're a burden to bear.

But if one day you need me,
And I'm not around,
When you call out for me,
I don't make a sound.

You better come running,
And
Mirroring - Draft One /Mirroring

Sat in her audience of broken up glass
Eyes unseeing and liquid, she shakes
Sparkling fragments of old shattered hearts
Mirroring the mirror, she breaks

Hair veiling her face is her only protection
Guarding her sad mind from critique
Tears flourish their signature over her face
And her nightingale voice cannot speak
Mirror, Mirror - Draft One /Mirror, Mirror

Item.
Hair band - 1 - Beige.
Holding her thoughts together,
Cool and collected.

Item.
Foundation - With moisturiser.
Hiding two small scars on her forehead,
Chicken pox, 5.

Item.
Mascara - Black.
And waterproof, naturally.
Her only constant. Black.

Item.
Lipgloss - Slight glaze of pink.
See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil,
Watch her silence.

Item.
Blusher - Thin, Pink, High cheekbone area.
Flushes her face with enthusiasm (fake),
Hides that British white skin.

Item.
Earrings - 2 - Sterling Silver, clip on.
The distraction tactic,
She's avoiding your gaze.

Item.
Necklace - 1 - Sterling Silver chain

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O

:iconkathrynodriscoll:

It permeates everything
It is the cells. It is the cell
in which I am rotting.

The sheen over my eye,
the flesh I rip from the side of my nail,
the teeth I grind it with.

The tears, blood and sweat.
It is below carbon and hydrogen,
embedded in the air I breathe.

It is sleeping under my fingernails,
It is the undeniable, genetic, atomic truth.
Oh, my oxygen permeates everything.

It is the cell.
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
This poem is about depression... about wearing misery in every molecule in your body. It is what you are, it is what you think, say, do, taste, smell, hear... it is everything.

I'm freaking out because I feel so low and I am not off my meds. That is a worrying development.


Icon for Hire - Iodine
♫ "Depression's like a big fur coat,
it's made of dead things but it keeps me warm"

"I think I'm just in love with the feeling
Break my bones so I can feel them healing
"Crazy"'s, I believe, the medical term
When we wanna recover, but we don't wanna learn
Keep breaking what's been fixed a thousand times
And gimme some more of that iodine"

"But if we want to wake up,
Why we still singin' these lullabys?" ♪
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:iconprosaic-scriptor:
~Prosaic-Scriptor Mar 18, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
I've been there before. You really draw us into the experience.
Reply
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
`KathrynODriscoll Mar 22, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you! Obviously it's relatively easy for me to write about my own crazy mind
Reply
:icon0hgravity:
*0hgravity Feb 1, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
:hug: hope you are feeling better.
Reply
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
`KathrynODriscoll Feb 1, 2013  Student Writer
bit by bit, day by day. How are you?
Reply
:icon0hgravity:
*0hgravity Feb 1, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
only way to go about it.

I'm doing fairly well, thanks :)
Reply
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
`KathrynODriscoll Feb 2, 2013  Student Writer
Good :}
Reply
:iconpuzzledheartbox:
*PuzzledHeartBox Jan 28, 2013
I'm going to have to agree with ~shehrozeameen
A very nice work, alas sadly a bit depressing.
Reply
:iconshehrozeameen:
~shehrozeameen Jan 28, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
The letter "O" speaks out in this work... it is all encompassing, and yet it continues to constrict...

I just hope that you feel better soon... I hope so...
Reply
:iconkathrynodriscoll:
`KathrynODriscoll Feb 1, 2013  Student Writer
Nods. Thank you, your comment was very insightful. I was thinking of O as the symbol for oxygen and a sound of distress and dissapointment. Very thoughtful visual elements from your ideas.
Reply
:iconshehrozeameen:
~shehrozeameen Feb 1, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Your welcome... well... O is something that me and *NotenSMSK hold dear as writers...
Reply
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