providence-augustine

There's a shot of vodka in the fridge with your name on it. It will solve nothing. Just ease the pain prolong the pain or just nothing. I fear nothing for nothing is inevitable. I miss you. Say it ain't so. You are the fantasy in which I drown myself for I do not know I cannot say what is real. I am fake and you are gone. Here's another for the man I wronged, for the monster I've become This poem ain't about you honey. This is the dungeon in which the princess has chained herself.

It occurred to my professor during the course of his lecture that there was a video on YouTube that could perfectly illustrate his point.  He eyed the white Smartboard anxiously.  We hushed in anticipation, closing the book that had been glued to our eyes for weeks, and we turned our attention to the blankness of the Smartboard, ready to be dazzled by the magic of technology.  The professor completed his final keystroke and clicked his final link, then prepared to observe the fruits of his labor.  The board remained blank.   He laughed nervously.  "Is it on?" he asked.  We echoed his nervous laughter, scanning the faces of our peers, hoping

If Music Be the Food of Love Me, myself and I unanimously agree that I have the best taste in music.  I love sharing my music, talking about my music, and learning about the various artists who have comprised my collection.  I am protective and defensive about my music.  I draw a very distinct line between what is mine and what is not.  From the outside these distinctions may seem quite arbitrary:  "I don't like the voice," "The lyrics are boring," "That song is gross.  Because it is."   The pieces that I have hoarded away and identified as mine speak to me and represent me in some perceivable yet unidentifiable way.  It's a lot like fallin

Your name is but a ghost upon my lips. Your living body is but a corpse in my mind. My fate is but to dwell in your presence. Each night I must conquer your spectre. In doing so I reclaim you, you that had denied yourself to me in life. I do not wish to do this. I had no choice. You will not leave me. My love for you is gone, but this phantom eros remains. And so phantom emotion meets phantom body. And so it goes.  And so it goes.

The Devil has blue eyes, I know; for I've seen them peer into my soul. A greedy smile makes blue eyes shine. You saw my heart and called it "Mine!" And truth be told, I would not go, but by serpent's tongue temptations grow. All creatures have their vice, you see, and lust was mine as Apple was Eve's. But truth be told, no fault was yours, 'Twas my own sin that made my heart sore. Satan's shape changes in each own mind to blind his victims in a guise. I see my soul and tell no lies: I know the Devil has blue eyes.

College Love Song In my empty room, I am alone. I hear your voice on the radio as I sing along to our favorite song; I know where I belong. Just because I'm not smiling doesn't mean I'm sad. These are the best days I've ever had. A good book on my lap, a good man on my arm-- You and I move along. The nights are too short, and the days are too long, and we're so tired we just lie in our arms doing absolutely nothing while there's so much to be done. Go on, just let the clock run. We live hour by hour and dollar by cent, but kisses are free and that's time well spent. Go run to your meeting and I'll prepare for class. We

Strange song of saint and sinner swallowed in the eternal sea. Blacks and whites bending, dancing amongst vibrant waves of color. No fear, never fear--simply breathe. The angel exchanged her cloud for curiosity. Her prayers turned to rainbows that stretched across Purgatory. No fear, never fear--simply breathe. The stars bleed because they cannot cry. The stars explode because they cannot die. Light of life Light of love Light of peace Twinkle, twinkle, bleeding star. The angel cries into the silent cacophony.

One foot in front of the other. Step. Step. Arms swing, stand up straight— push back the Earth from beneath your feet. Force the air off your path! Slow and steady, step, step. Stand still. Earth turns. Go forth.

Death of a Muse Whispers from across the river— the most beautiful I've ever heard. I wished I had a pen and paper that I might catch those golden words. I turned my head to see the speaker but he must have gone away. Only ripples in the water and silence in the air. "Hello!" I cried.  "I hear you! Whoever, whatever you are!" The river smiled.  I closed my eyes. Sweet, sweet nothing. I came back to the river at night. The whispers flooded my ears, maddened my senses, and brought me to tears. I pressed pen to paper and began to write. My words were as stars against the night. Am I the only one who hears such beauty? Th