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Biology (In Defense Of Free Verse)The heart has four chambers:
two muscular atria and
two ventricles that alternate
between relaxing and
contracting, circulating
oxygen-rich plasma
throughout the body.

This is one of many processes
that occur whether you
want it to or not.

I can sense your flesh and
pheromones
when I breathe you in like pollen
or particles of smoke.
You are a part of my lungs
before tiny capillaries carry you
sleeping or intoxicated
to my heart.
Then it seizes up-
pumping little bits of you
through my veins like nerve endings
and I feel you
from my waist to my lips and
inside my brain.

The primary cause of love
is the chemical pheneth
StainsI.

You burned the eggs and wrote scripture
in the shadows of a lunar eclipse.
I haven't slept for years, but it took the far away
scream of a siren to convince me that
the moon is a liar.

Body bags are filled with better men.
There are rivers of oil where I can't seem to break
The mirrors that flaunt your reflection.

II.

You couldn't dare me to walk across that bridge.
You couldn't ask me to sit through a full sermon
and still remain humble.

I'll never  be home before the street lights come on and
you'll never hold my hand in the day time.
We're both clinical fools.

"The only difference between poison and medici
Four Things She Thought About Before She Jumped1.
She thought about her sister and how the shape of her face
became foreign in certain light, as if carved by the hands of a man
who had spent too much time on oil and canvas
to remember his own skin. Her eyes began to resemble chips of ice
as they filled with rainwater; the world like a river
that runs over them and
through them
without touching.

She thought about her sister
trying to talk in her sleep—
the way her tongue flapped uselessly
about her mouth, a coil of smooth muscle pinning itself
to her teeth. It spat syllables
like broken stones. She thought about her sister spread across
the bed sheets, palms turned upw
Monsters Never DieMy fear is but one emotion,
But it is not required tonight,
For this is  a ritual,
And I hold with all my might,
This animal who struggles,
Like the monster deep in my heart,
Clawing, burning, and agape,
This ritual will make us part,
As I chant for my escape,
I sprinkle sage for my safety,
The animal stares accusing,
I deny it's eyes completely,
This monster is consuming,
The one inside bares it's teeth,
I can take no more and strike,
Like this animal in defeat,
This sacrifice in death's peace,
Now with the monster dead,
I race to the mirror in dawn,
Only to realize in dread,
Monsters are never truly gone.
One God of ManWe come from a sacred world
Where all that's hers is ours,
With blood and bone she yields
The fruit of a blooming flower.

In the days of infanthood
Rampant with hunger and fear,
A scent, a touch, a lullaby
Are our first lessons in love.

Her bosom is our salvation,
Her lap, the softest bed,
Her voice, the music of life,  
Her lips, an ancient promise.

A mother's love never wavers
It rests with her child alone,
The days spent in her dainty arms
Makes a house, a home.

As maturity gently claims us
And whispers words of fancy,
Our love tardily diverges
And haunts interim hearts.

Yet, come early infatuation,
Fiance or pledge
MindreadingYou might not know
So I will tell
The little secret
of this spell

It allows me to see
To hear and to know
Every thought
From you and me

I pick your brains
And look for some fun
Nom a bit here
And then I am done

I tell your thoughts
And you're surprised
I hope to impress
And so I take the shots

You smile and hug
Still not knowing my little spell
But I don't have to worry
Because there is enough to tell
They Always SayThey always say the good die young,
but I never thought it would be you...
with all your laughter and all your joy
    so contagious
I never dreamed you'd leave so soon.

And where were you taken, that sunless day,
when the sky poured acid in mourning?
And why did you of all people have to go...
     so young
     so certain
     so beautiful.

The questions tormented a thousand days
     a thousand dreams
     a thousand tears and more.
And I could find no solace in the words they spoke.
Change as CartographyChange as Cartography

My face is changing.
I feel it when pressing fingertips
Into my cheekbones
And where my bottom jaw
Meets the twice pierced ear.
It protrudes with clenched teeth –
In anger; in awe; in hiding tears in public.
The muscle comes and defines
The angle of my head when I tilt it.

The hair on my top lip darkens.
It gives the razor an excuse
To know my face.
The skin seems younger
Stretched across my skeleton,
It has now discovered my age:
I am twenty.
Each morning I shave
And note the growth.

I'm used to the stench
And the feel
Of disinfectant and bleach.
And bleach on my hands,
The scent clings hour
What I Saw on EarthWhat I saw on Earth this night
Glowing belts of twinkled light
Silence stretched across the sky
Too vast in wonder for human eye

Deep I felt inside my soul
Stirrings from a slumber old
A light, a key, an open door
I pass, I sleep… I live once more

What I heard on Earth that day
Made me long to fall away
The endless crash upon the shore
The cries of freedom as we soar

I am the gull in flight suspended
Alive 'til ocean's sound is ended
I am the distant water's song
A lullaby of all that's gone

What I've learned on Earth of man
Will pass before it's all began
But hidden in final the days
Answers to confused dismay

We ar
Vanilla CranesVanilla Cranes

The light of day cuts pretty masks
Out of stuff way too colourful
And glues them on faces of men
Who then stomp chessboard with their feet

In brothels red lanterns do shine
Gates there kept open, welcoming
Children to find their way back home
To the tower of Babylon

Pockets and wallets resonate
With choirs and gospels of the change
Dreaming of freedom and revenge
Who lives by coin, by coin shall die

You ask me "Why do birds have wings,
When sons of mortal men can fly...?"
I guess we humans aim too high
Before sun laughs us in the face

So is there any happy place
Except for our enchanted realm
Where love with
Wartime PleasIt's early autumn and the war is far from over. I am
unable to travel the winding streets of your inner city,
to claim each building as mine. Rome remains unconquered -
you are still my Caesar.

We sit in darkened rooms together and our bodies
turn from ashes to ashes to night. At all times you look
out the window, dreaming of westward lands. Your hands
are strikes of lightning.

Light of my life: today the sky is a house of leaves.
There is the silver sound of gunfire in the air. The season
passes quickly, but before snow kisses the ground
let me find peace in the temple of your heart.
Aching LoveYou exist only
within my throbbing skull;
that is all the love I need.
Unbound TiesYou choke on the meds—
the bitter taste of failure,
the coffee thick in your
indecisive throat.

Downstairs,
a baby howls like
a mistreated coyote
at the vaporizing moon—

the all day affair
of listening to abandonment
thumping in your ears.

Across town,
a man you might have
learned to love
boards a bus
for greener pastures—

the promise of keeping in touch
rolling in your mouth
like a pendulum uncertain
of its true purpose.

& in a tiny town
on the edge of oblivion,
your one-time, for-all-time lover
chokes on the daily defeat—

feeling the chorus
of your blood
burst against her lips,

all the unspoken
Soak My Feet In WineWhen the sun and the earth were in love, ever young
I was born on a full moon with silver clarity
I'm that woman who sleeps on olive groves
Who makes angels fall in love with men's daughters
And lets herself be tricked by your sweet spells
Who obeys the very impulse of her  heart
Do you know who I am, where I came from ?

I live where stars grow bigger on a light breeze
Where butterflies were once flowers
Where God blessed my garden in Eden with peace
There, where I lay on a cloud softer than foam

When the day splits into two halves, you see me
My steps are as light as those of a chamois
My hair running wild; wings of an
Three-way road of desperate strugglesi-) 
                                  The flame tastes ever so sweet this subtle time of sundown;
                              watch its poetry burn a new azure for the summersong of tomorrow.
                                     Moonlit magma awaits my presence and I shall not deny
                              her wishes, strike a flame and let it rage (never end, my sweet...)
                                   Infernal symmetry blackens the lustful essence of my being
                           
Browse More Like This

More from ~pomohippie7

SnowThick
Like clotted cream
Dropping white bonnets
Filled with dreams;
Doilies of redundancy
To the naked eye
No more unique
Than each breath
You draw
Leanan-SidheLeanan-Sidhe
Look not upon me
With jaundiced eye
Nor scar of mouth
Please lean into me,
Whispering of brilliance.

Night is dark
Oh, night is cold
Pull forth the warmth
You wish to recive
By kissing lips
Oh so tenderly
To tease up the artery.
FieldsAs I sleep
The mechanics of a home
Emulate the song of crickets,
Humming me into the security
Of the fields I walked
The corn that talked,
Letting me hammer out
The details of a winter to come.

Featured in Groups

:iconwriterart: :icondd-catalogue: :iconsmoking-art: :iconwhen-darkness-comes: :iconpoetrys-renaissance: :iconword-smiths: :iconwritersink: :icontomes-and-grimoires:
×

Working Class

:iconpomohippie7:

Smoking is a working class disease
They said; he smiled at this.
Lean in body and broad of mind
With shirtsleeves rolled,
A modern man's philosopher
Who stuttered over the words
Like his fingers did over her chassis
Detroit rolling iron beneath his palms
Grease and lubricant under the nails.
The cigarette cherry glows in the dark
Giving him a hard edge aura  
The gloaming settling into the lines
Of his work-worn face

3,618

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:iconpomohippie7:

Working Classby ~pomohippie7

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For him.

Update: This piece received a DLD for May 29th, 2012 and was featured in Writer'sInk's Weekly Round-up. Both such wonderful honors. :) [link]

[link]

This piece received a DD on June 6, 2012. Thank you to all of you who made it happen and have favored it; it's appreciated more than you will know.
[link]
©2012-2013 ~pomohippie7
Category: Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

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May 23, 2012
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Daily Deviation

Given 2012-06-05
Working Class by ~pomohippie7 The suggester writes, "What makes it great is it's warm honesty and celebration of the average working man. This appreciation for the ordinary is endearing." ( Suggested by #WritersInk and Featured by `thorns )
love 8 8 joy 1 1 wow 0 0 mad 0 0 sad 0 0 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:iconzeroclimate:
~ZeroClimate Oct 21, 2012  Professional General Artist
Very nice, reads like a pensive Jax Teller was roming around in your thoughts one night.

Favortie part, grease under the fingernails... visceral!
-M
Reply
:iconpomohippie7:
~pomohippie7 Oct 21, 2012   Writer
Thank you so very much for your kind words! :heart:
Reply
:icongummyrabbit:
~gummyrabbit Jun 9, 2012  Student Traditional Artist
This is a good poem. I like the simplicity of the imagery; if it had been any more intricate or oblique it wouldn't have fit the subject.
Reply
:iconpomohippie7:
~pomohippie7 Jun 10, 2012   Writer
Thank you so much for your kind words and I am so glad you liked it. :) :hug:
Reply
:iconjas08:
~jas08 Jun 9, 2012
I can see why this garnered a DD.
It carries such fantastic imagery conveying the pride and honor that is associated with the auto workers.There is also an underlying sense of love here that makes me think you are writing about someone you know.

Congratulations!
Reply
:iconpomohippie7:
~pomohippie7 Jun 9, 2012   Writer
Thank you very much for your kind words, dear. :) I was very surprised by the DD I will admit! When I had gotten on here that morning I saw I had like 78 feedback messages and I was like 'That can't be right....' Lol And one of my other friends on here had congratulated me on it, so that how I found out I had received it. :giggle: And, yes, it is about someone I know well and treasure. :)
Reply
:iconjas08:
~jas08 Jun 10, 2012
It comes through very clearly.
I was very excited to see someone I know get a DD. Too often I see crap stuff get chosen and seldom do I think they deserve it.
Reply
:iconpomohippie7:
~pomohippie7 Jun 10, 2012   Writer
Yes, the literature usually chosen is not outstanding. It makes me sad, too, that there aren't usually many literature pieces even chosen for a DD.
Reply
:iconjas08:
~jas08 Jun 11, 2012
Completely right. Its a little depressing that lit doesnt make it often enough. At least we have the DLD's.
Reply
:iconpomohippie7:
~pomohippie7 Jun 11, 2012   Writer
Yes, thank goodness for that!
Reply
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