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Swing lowThree cold coins cast weights in his pockets
that's one for the ferryman but two for the heroin
and three states of being were left out as an option
birth, life, and death and he chose to choose none of them
you'd think that he could smell the approaching Death
if he hadn't sand blasted his nose to nary a snort in Life's breath.
and maybe he wouldn't have been blind to other paths
but it's hard to see the future from a low hung head
so swing low, and take a taste of the madness
but take a dip like a quill in ink to create your life's masterpiece
and if you sink too low then then just brush it off naturally
because nothings permanent and unless you make it seem to be
hold your chin up and breath sighs relief
the devils are on your back so they cannot impede
and child slow down there's no need for grief
you can't live life dead if dead set on living
two cold coins cast weights in his pockets
enough to clip a roach you'd think.
but for all the currency he carried currently
Snow Blind And SinkingWhen he winced and put another pinch up his nose
he laughed and huffed gasses that make cars go faster.
He’s an asshole who robs you blind at kind point
each dollar cast away with a smile but he still wants more.
Veins collapsed, a heart beat to death wheezes
or it would if failed lungs hadn’t already ceased breathing.
He’s agape left gasping with hate, for
the thing that saved him took away his only escape.
snow driven adrenalin pushes him into a tar pit.
He’d be never heard from again, for
it’s a sure thing he’d drown in it.
if it wasn’t for friends love
the he’d be another eulogy and
a fucked up, fair faded, statistic.
but he’s sadistic because he
but misses it.
but he can wipe clean the snow and
remnants of the tar pit
cause he loves more
those who braved it to save him.
Hooked on PhoneticsIt's not all in the hype, see?
You still have to set your roots.
Mine just happen to be hyphy.
I'm split-even like coduceus
fueled by semi-synthetic
ergot infested magic rye.
I'm a nice guy who likes long walks on the beach,
my molly actually sass, but still crystalline, and
using my spare time to visit worlds- dimethyl triptyline
lyrics are a pattern. Whose
divination's just a gift to me.
"They" tell me what to write,
point at you, and scream
"REPEAT AFTER ME!"
A little dab will do ya.
"How bout a line or two sir?"
"Dude, what about your health?
Do think that that's conducive?"
No, I think it's magic. It's talking to god.
I love it more than anything and it's killing me.
Isn't that odd?
A Poem Like TeethNot a line to sit half a happy couplet.
All the metaphors aren't fives but
still love to hear speech through crooked slant rhyme.
All the while wear a stupid half simile.
Ain't an old poet; though, old speech spoke colloquially:
speak Modern-English romanticized chatter,
Not a line to sit half a happy couplet.
All the while wear a stupid half simile.
Rich Man's Poor DreamsThe old man lived in a house of gold bricks and
thought his life a dream.
Though, when he paid for happiness brick by brick
he had company but,
no place to sleep.
A house is not a home and
a home sure ain't a bank.
Though, when you're cold and lonely with possessions to spare
what would posses you to think happiness comes cheep?
The old man spent it all away on a cashed cache o' bucks.
That son of a bitch couldn't buy happiness but,
he sure found it when he stopped giving a fuck.
Never-Empty EvergreenThe trees leaves leave,
casting not shadows, but bitter memories
of a full head of hair.
Willow's weep in winters dead grasp
and send not a prayer nor death rattle
only silent sighs resign to fate.
All will always be lush and green;
for, even when it is not I
pretend my vegetation is large and pristine and
think myself an evergreen.
Daddy Issues Check ListI was born a monster before a man.
Honestly, I'm a cannibal.
I never hesitate just so long as it's consensual.
Lose the shirt and pants;
speech not necessarily sequential.
If you're in a pinch I could pinch too,
if that's what you're in to.
I have a hunger in my chest that was formed up in my own mind.
I'd probably worry about my cockiness if I wasn't so spineless.
I'd lie if I was in a bind. Though, I'd rather bind you and play 'Risk',
We'll just live 'Life'. while you use your mouth to 'Sink my Battleship'.
Okay, what you want, you can't always get.
That's alright with me because I get to WANT to get.
Yo, I heard the wind sing strong that 'The Thrill is Gone'.
heard rumors that 'Love Don't Live Here Anymore'
'Babe, I'm Going to Leave You' 'cause I never really needed you,
wore you like a tattoo but the tattoo came with a rash too.
Maybe that's too rash an attitude?
I've been told I'm overly passionate.
But you're a little... what's the term kids use?
Something like 'ratchet'?
losing my mind againJust about the only things I can't hold onto,
a steady job and my sanity.
you know this.
Bong star goes hard when
ripping himself down
slightly underweight and
made of lead.
amphetamine found on the day to day
adulterous adulterants found in high dose in cheap MDMA.
either-way, pure or not,
I'm just happy to be happy, happily-
drop a call- drop a line
got a dime piece?
Then, man, everything fine
we go tradesys, man,
it's crazy, but
the higher I get the
less the worry 'bout what 'crazy' means.
this is a warning.i.
The first thing you need
to know about people is this:
If you cut off our head,
we will grow two in its place.
We will divide and conquer
until there's nothing left
but tiny gaping mouths,
clacking and salivating
at the crumbs of an empire.
They tell me hurt is like
a paper cut:
quick and forgotten,
Hurt is the first step
off a balcony,
the first gasp
in a chain reaction
screaming from the railing
to beyond the pavement.
When I finally hit the ground,
I looked up and saw my halo
dangling from the edge,
He said, she said,
I wanted, he lost, she won,
I ruined this, I broke your heart,
he left me,
I miss you.
This is nothing new.
Your tragedy is always
what's it like to realize
every slash on your soul
has an identical twin?
What's it like to know
you're going to die
the same way everyone does:
scared and alone?
We are disposable.
The hydra g
Prince Means Frog
Queens Were Not Princesses
Robots Rule Inside Us
Freedom Needs Freedom
Reality Is Not Safe
Asylum Is Safe
Breathing Is Free
Air Is Not Free
Guests Are Expected
Life Is UnExpected
Poison Is Lazy
Blood Is Hot
Death Is Cold
Steel Needs Fire And Ice
Steel Is Weird
Weird Is Not Always Art
Poetry Is Not Art
Poetry Is More Than Art
Art Should Not Answer
Answers Need Questions
Questions Need Answers
Ask The Translator
War and CancerI want to go back
and meet us one more time,
before the war and the cancer
took up so much of the day -
before my father could no longer
remember what the present
was supposed to mean
and your mother
could still get dressed
without losing her way.
I want to know
what it felt like
to board a plane
to somewhere hidden
and not care
if our names and faces
to walk as long
as we wanted
without the sun and moon
creating an argument.
I want to feel you
roll into my arms
where I forgot to cut the grass
and you did not
water the flowers;
to hear you
watching the cardinals
unearth the spring.
And to know once again
how this place
started becoming new.
The Re-Prettify ProjectBreathing in silver filaments
will not make you pretty on the inside.
You cannot polish and buff
lung or aorta
until it is shiny and new.
If you have filled your life with toxins
and allowed your eyes
to cloud over with coal dust
do not, my friend, do not
seek silver linings from anything
but penance and kindness.
Throwing gold-dust over your head
will not administer you a halo.
It was so suddenIt was so sudden.
It was so fast.
It was so scary.
We were so happy.
It was the best.
But the thunder fell.
And now there’s nothing left.
twentythe river flares
tinged with champagne
from the hue of the sky,
broken tortoise shell above
but the glow is far
raw teeth have started
growing in the wind
and everything around me
Clear skies and endless oceansLying down on the grass
I see the blue sky
Standing on the edge of the cliff
I see the blue ocean
Two beautiful wonders
Inked by the gods
With the color of sadness
The color of nostalgia
Let me dive into you
So I can experience
Your cold and shivering touch
even in death, i will not find peacei lost my faith the way
i lost my virginity -
clinging to a girl like she
was all i'd ever have,
bathed in darkness and shame.
it's been years since then,
but i want to lose my life
the same way.
no motion could raise me
from my coffin of sod and sorrow,
to pull me from my bed
of dirt and disgrace -
but i would wake up with
blood on my hands,
i would wake up with death
curled up like a dog at my feet,
resting with nothing
but the waning hope that
you ache for me with a fire
burning in your bones that
never ebbs, never relents.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More