once more with feeling,

blinding tempos
and violating vocals
immerse your psyche
and light up the unoccupied picture frames
of pretentious artists
who played cards with inspiration

beginning the chorus line
their sighs melt into

silence did not exist,
on this side of creativity


Depressive Psychedelia

the glass was blue
just like the liquid inside
but nothing was ever
as blue
as she would have liked it

she couldn’t remember
why she had smeared
all of her pills
with blood,
maybe it was her way
of apologising
to everyone she had wronged

the background noises,
plagued her eardrums
she wanted to escape the vibrations
and all of the green monsters
that came with them

her screams were an unvoiced violet
and no matter how hard she tried
she could never,
see the black and white


Cryptic Knowledge

glaring at returned puzzle pieces
pathetically cursing the magnetic field
that drew them apart
pilling them into incomplete piles
on the stained mahogany counter

you ignore,
the signs attached to hazardous routes
they made as much sense,
as the broken traffic signals
and adolescent drivers

unwelcome intruders broke into your quarters
and raided your fridge
looking for nourishment
and searching for things you had discarded

deciding their verdicts
you smile at your reflection and try to explain yourself
as you usher them,
into themselves

rewritten from: http://ladan-poetry.blogspot.com/2009/11/cryptic-knowledge.html



the definition of fragile
is of a shell that has never been opened
self contained and obliged to dreary routine
expanding with stale breath
and fearful reluctance
and then deflating on a C-minor
the result of unrequited devotion

clouded eyes looking in from simple delusions
unseeing and assertive
eyelids uncovering, to show lit flames
searching for euphoric reflections,
of desire

enchantment clutches your wrists
and hangs them where they shouldn’t be,
straining your assurance
you are lifted to elation
and accept the glowing welcome
and radiating appeal

whenever the shell let it's guard down
you were unable to avert your eyes
you could never see,
past the illuminated cracks
and that had always been the problem

rewritten from: http://ladan-poetry.blogspot.com/2009/11/light.html


Snow and Sunglasses

sitting on a snow covered hill
sunglasses substituting your eyes
you could never imagine
a time of warmth.

you are relentlessly showered with iced knives
and corroded leaves

with your legs crossed
and gloves woven into your hands
you make disfigured snowballs,
and bury them into the ground
preserving your creations

Snow Angels haunt your pride
your limbs are in all the wrong places, they criticise
those goddamn imitations look more like friendly Devils,
they scream.
the Angels were not as forgiving,
as they claimed to be.

you could barely dodge the snowflakes
that rained from the navy sky
seeping through your layers,
they burnt holes into your joints

the house that sat at the bottom of the hill
was just as empty as its occupants.

making a wish,
on the snowflake that landed on your tongue
you make one final snowball

and watch as it rolled down the hill
increasing in size and superiority

the structure laughed on impact,
the bricks remained intact.

you expected,
nothing to remain of your snowball
and you were not disappointed

the windows glinted victory
as you drifted away, into another season



the demolished window
birthed cutting pieces of glass
that violated in all the right places.
dissembling your thirst
and arranging your desires
onto the tips of torturous lust.

drained of all necessary fluids
coagulated scarlets smudge on delicate skin,
fingertips hover over distinctive markings
demanding blood to be drawn
and bruises to manifest.

the purchased gun,
would not make a big enough hole
to fill with destructive termination.
the segregated knife,
would not destroy mapped veins
and label all routes redundant.
the pain of weakness,
and unreciprocated love
is all that will remain
to devotedly mutilate your brainwaves.


Smoke and Mirrors

Blistered blue preoccupation
Cracks the surfaces of mirrors
Seeping into the fractures
Infecting the reflections,
Of the recluses
Who shun their counterparts.

Jagged gusts of air
Caressed hollow bones
Invading buried apprehension
And unbound desires.

The obliged will hold your hand,
and tell you what you want to hear
with inky irises and delicate sighs.

Astronomical lights,
will drive the introverts
To exist on the side,
The moon is darkest.


What You’ve Lost

hands on the floor
feeling for something you might have lost
the distant ground
laughs at your disorientation
and scoffs at your temporary amnesia
opening up a hole
it would like you to accommodate

passersby threaten you with their height
incubating an neurotic exaggeration
invading the ground you wish to examine
with their infected footprints
and sluggish movements

you are deprived from air for long enough
to give up and sulk
becoming the placebo
to their provisional fortune

loose change
a piece of gum
a folded up scrap of paper with a reminder on it
it doesn’t matter what you’ve lost
someone else will find it
and claim it as their own


Segregated Desire

He stood steadily beyond the walls
Holding her unattached lungs
And pieces of her discarded heart

His eyes glazed with empathy
Reason burning in the jagged raindrops
He smelt like 1am
and tasted like italics
She looked like intensity
and felt like the moonlight

Aching from lack of movement
The thorns buried in their limbs
Needed removing

They wanted the Angels
But all they got were excuses
And Cupid who had lost its armour