At Night
By Laura Cook
At night, he says, he can’t sleep
because the stars are too loud
smashing
crashing
shattered glass
They sound like hearts breaking, he says
torn apart by steel flashing bright
things they can help
things they can’t
things near and half a world away
Why won’t the stars be quiet, he says
tears flowing silver from his eyes
they know i am no savior
in comparison i am paper
broken and torn before i begin
Maybe that’s why the stars need you, i say
if the gleaming angels could save themselves
don’t you think they would
maybe they need someone like you
like paper like glass like dust
Like paper, like glass, like dust, he says
while they are steel and mountains and trees
but steel can be broken
mountains razed to the ground
and the mighty trees felled
Maybe they do need me, he says
and that night he doesn’t try to sleep
he listens to the smashing
the shattered-glass crashing
the voices of the stars
DRAMA
The Tormented Sinner
by Anonymous
Of lips that tremble,
providing kisses that calm qualms.
And whispering silent, lips,
parting, pleasing, loving, teasing.
Whispers as tipping toes,
with feel--feel of stomps.
Whispering beautiful disasters.
Creativity is beauty.
though beauty is pain.
Whispering, darling...
that I kiss like the rain.
And dance with me in the quiet night...
sing with the power and the strife.
But no.
You say I'm a poet,
An artist...
A free soul.
What's being a poet?
To have a fantasy as a life goal?
Tippings of hats, and licking of tongues.
I am a poet?
Though my intelligence is often wrong.
Kisses? Kisses? Lips...
Never again will I speak from my lips!
Writings on paper,
Never meant to deceive.
You say I'm a poet...
Then why can't I breathe?
Suffocation!
It's lovely, it gives me a moment...
That there would be a distraction.
From the torments lamented.
Dying! Dying! Dying!
Reborn into a new shell...
For today was the end.
The end of this "poet".
The end of this pain.
The end of everything...
That I have myself to blame.