Sometimes, the pain of it all brought tears to her eyes. It wasn't the burning and stinging sensation centering on the tips of her raw nerves, but the beauty of the agony-- its fullness. She marveled at how acutely she could feel the rending of her fibrous tissues, or at least what she assumed might be a physical manifestation of it.
She took a drag. The smoke filled her mouth, and its bitter taste centered her.
It's not about how painful it is now she thought It's how I savor it.
Like bruises on her neck and on her chest and on her thighs and on her insides, the roundness of the pain she felt served as a reminder. It grabbed her by the hair strained her neck and forced her to bend forward toward the light of memories, where the future and the past came together to form the present. With each blinding flash of white hot heat, she felt herself arrive closer to the place that she new she must arrive at, somehow.
The bright cherry reached dangerously close to the filter. Taking a last puff, she felt heat warm her lips. She let the butt of the cigarette drop and ground out the embers with her shoe, but a few ashes escaped.
She hopped down from her seat on the brick wall. The glowing ashes had scattered like a small path. Squatting, she reached out. With a slender finger, she ground out the first still-burning ash, wincing as it seared her skin.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
summer lovin'
the arrival of heat
could not come any sooner
o summer with sun
and damp shirts
sticking to wet skin
with drops of beaded sweat
slowly trickling down a
back, tanned and warm
and the taste of cold
frozen water flavored by
colored crystals of sweet
sugar; o sweet, cold bliss;
and jeans transforming
to thigh length, ragged
string-ridden statements
of summer's arrival and
subsequent worship
could not come any sooner
o summer with sun
and damp shirts
sticking to wet skin
with drops of beaded sweat
slowly trickling down a
back, tanned and warm
and the taste of cold
frozen water flavored by
colored crystals of sweet
sugar; o sweet, cold bliss;
and jeans transforming
to thigh length, ragged
string-ridden statements
of summer's arrival and
subsequent worship
Friday, March 13, 2009
laid bare
it happened once again, i fear
let my flesh drop in front of leers
and showed the nerves and bones so white
and flexed the muscle fil'ments tight
to show the stuff of which i'm made
allowed the skin to slowly fade
and op'd my veins to the cold, still air
and watched their eyes my form ensnare
and felt the scalpel sharp and cold
but never had i felt so bold
until my heart they up and sold
for a vat of ash and lump of gold
let my flesh drop in front of leers
and showed the nerves and bones so white
and flexed the muscle fil'ments tight
to show the stuff of which i'm made
allowed the skin to slowly fade
and op'd my veins to the cold, still air
and watched their eyes my form ensnare
and felt the scalpel sharp and cold
but never had i felt so bold
until my heart they up and sold
for a vat of ash and lump of gold
hidden belief
if they were to know
what fables i no longer
wished to hear
would they beat their breasts
with the overwhelming
distress that they
who so lovingly raised
this seed of life
had unwittingly poisoned
the soil that it
spread it roots into
to anchor and grow only
to wither away in
moral purgatory?
what fables i no longer
wished to hear
would they beat their breasts
with the overwhelming
distress that they
who so lovingly raised
this seed of life
had unwittingly poisoned
the soil that it
spread it roots into
to anchor and grow only
to wither away in
moral purgatory?
a reassurance
for you dear, i would have fallen from a cliff
like the card that fell from my hand to yours
with no tether tied to keep me from dashing on the rocks
but you already had a previous entanglement(s) that
try as i might, i couldn't manage to untie
even when i tried using a saw, the kind from nightmares
because it was hard as rock and i'm surprised that it wasn't
and you blinded me and i couldn't see past the speckles
of white and pink and green and blue because you were
so bright and light and light and light and light
but then it came to be that there was an eclipse
that i had been waiting for, praying for
(thought to whom, i've yet to find out)
and finally it came to block the rays you sent
and i saw better in that darkness than i could ever
in your shining glow because then i saw that really
you only pressed the button and really
your words can only be described as convoluted
and really i was always better than that
unless really this is just a way for me to
convince myself
again
like the card that fell from my hand to yours
with no tether tied to keep me from dashing on the rocks
but you already had a previous entanglement(s) that
try as i might, i couldn't manage to untie
even when i tried using a saw, the kind from nightmares
because it was hard as rock and i'm surprised that it wasn't
and you blinded me and i couldn't see past the speckles
of white and pink and green and blue because you were
so bright and light and light and light and light
but then it came to be that there was an eclipse
that i had been waiting for, praying for
(thought to whom, i've yet to find out)
and finally it came to block the rays you sent
and i saw better in that darkness than i could ever
in your shining glow because then i saw that really
you only pressed the button and really
your words can only be described as convoluted
and really i was always better than that
unless really this is just a way for me to
convince myself
again
the moment of transition
when did loving turn into
fucking
was it when the men were
ducking
as the women were
chucking
shoes and whatnot for his
tucking
his baby maker into her
bucking
and mewling best friend?
ever wonder about worst case scenarios? inspired by my curiosity and penchant for projection
fucking
was it when the men were
ducking
as the women were
chucking
shoes and whatnot for his
tucking
his baby maker into her
bucking
and mewling best friend?
ever wonder about worst case scenarios? inspired by my curiosity and penchant for projection
to write no more
oh please, please love go no farther
my limbs are severed and my heart is tethered
and when you go, i feel i am fettered
to no loner cradle this pen upon this paper
with a moan would rend graphs of muscle and bones
and with anguish the soul would turn to loam
oh stay, stay love here by the hearth
and let me stave the good from the brave
and grow restless no more in your arms to behave
my limbs are severed and my heart is tethered
and when you go, i feel i am fettered
to no loner cradle this pen upon this paper
with a moan would rend graphs of muscle and bones
and with anguish the soul would turn to loam
oh stay, stay love here by the hearth
and let me stave the good from the brave
and grow restless no more in your arms to behave
a practice in bs
beat, the beat
i feel in my feet
produces the heat
that makes me complete
and sound, the sound
i feel my heart pound
as i fly from the ground
and in the sky i am found
and air, the air
i feel touch my hair
and makes me want to dare
to live without a care
and sight, the sight
the shades between the light
and i reach a new height
like a petal born in flight
and end, the end
it makes me want to rend
the very earth from the bend
and my joys to lend
i felt antsy and this is the result. some prettily put together bs that has no particular aim or purpose.
i feel in my feet
produces the heat
that makes me complete
and sound, the sound
i feel my heart pound
as i fly from the ground
and in the sky i am found
and air, the air
i feel touch my hair
and makes me want to dare
to live without a care
and sight, the sight
the shades between the light
and i reach a new height
like a petal born in flight
and end, the end
it makes me want to rend
the very earth from the bend
and my joys to lend
i felt antsy and this is the result. some prettily put together bs that has no particular aim or purpose.
batter
a constant pounding like the flash of waves
stirred by a gathering storm and flickering
bolts of electric wrath from the gods
'it's good' some say for the rain to come
but i say 'nay' and watch as the paint
chips off the lone light house in the abyss
stirred by a gathering storm and flickering
bolts of electric wrath from the gods
'it's good' some say for the rain to come
but i say 'nay' and watch as the paint
chips off the lone light house in the abyss
Thursday, March 12, 2009
a chaste extrapolation
to the core, the fire breaches
'lo the ever buzzing sound
thus with a quiver ever reaches
a spate of lava from the ground
with a motion coming hither
and a gnash of jutting bones
o the spine is quick to slither
and from your chords a set of tones
'from what fever comes this feeling'
some are obtusely wont to ask
still others know what kind of dealings
and in such acts are apt to bask
'lo the ever buzzing sound
thus with a quiver ever reaches
a spate of lava from the ground
with a motion coming hither
and a gnash of jutting bones
o the spine is quick to slither
and from your chords a set of tones
'from what fever comes this feeling'
some are obtusely wont to ask
still others know what kind of dealings
and in such acts are apt to bask
frédéric
oh, frédéric, your hands slender and beautiful are in my mind
and they play songs of love and songs of love and songs of everything
and sometimes i wonder if i'm not your maria incarnate?
or if i'm not your george, that you hated but came to worship
though when your raindrops fall on my ears, i cannot breathe once again
and i drown in the gliding notes that you create and i drown
in the shimmering, moving, moving, moving melodies and i cry
revolution!
in the sprawling mists of the sounds and the thoughts
that came from your pained, enraptured face as you played on that rickety
old piano you rented in majorca as you lived toward your death
and little did you know you still reside not as flesh but
here within me, forevermore
inspired by my most favoritest, most beloved composer Frédéric Chopin (though he's probably rolling in his grave about such horrible dribble being written about him)
and they play songs of love and songs of love and songs of everything
and sometimes i wonder if i'm not your maria incarnate?
or if i'm not your george, that you hated but came to worship
though when your raindrops fall on my ears, i cannot breathe once again
and i drown in the gliding notes that you create and i drown
in the shimmering, moving, moving, moving melodies and i cry
revolution!
in the sprawling mists of the sounds and the thoughts
that came from your pained, enraptured face as you played on that rickety
old piano you rented in majorca as you lived toward your death
and little did you know you still reside not as flesh but
here within me, forevermore
inspired by my most favoritest, most beloved composer Frédéric Chopin (though he's probably rolling in his grave about such horrible dribble being written about him)
hero
tongue-tied, slow-witted
is the result your presence
elicits from usually flowing
flowers of words and thoughts
but compared to the platinum
soul you carry on your back
things shrink in size and
minds halt their gears
and realizations of the world
and all the more it has to offer
appear and humble me,
the sheep in lion's clothing
is the result your presence
elicits from usually flowing
flowers of words and thoughts
but compared to the platinum
soul you carry on your back
things shrink in size and
minds halt their gears
and realizations of the world
and all the more it has to offer
appear and humble me,
the sheep in lion's clothing
it starts with a "d," and it's not delicious
and you were the last in a while, you know
with your rough hands and your rough words
and breath and mouth that tasted disgustingly
like processed meat stuffed into a synthetic casing
and your dirty, beer soaked hands that touched me
left lines of disgust and prickling skin that shouted "NO"
with your name that started with a "d," i guess i'll just
call you a dick, because that's what you technically are
and when i think back on it, really, i guess i'm to blame
i shouldn't have done that; it was pretty scarring, i guess
and luckily you didn't have an opportunity to make good
on the "tearing up" and what not that you promised to do
because even without that disturbing action
you left my top lip burning and raw the next day
with your rough hands and your rough words
and breath and mouth that tasted disgustingly
like processed meat stuffed into a synthetic casing
and your dirty, beer soaked hands that touched me
left lines of disgust and prickling skin that shouted "NO"
with your name that started with a "d," i guess i'll just
call you a dick, because that's what you technically are
and when i think back on it, really, i guess i'm to blame
i shouldn't have done that; it was pretty scarring, i guess
and luckily you didn't have an opportunity to make good
on the "tearing up" and what not that you promised to do
because even without that disturbing action
you left my top lip burning and raw the next day
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
see how they see, feel how they feel, taste how they taste, hear how they hear
it's always an amazing feeling
that sense of kinship you feel
when you find those that know
the ache of the need to create
a product of their nagging imagination
of the ecstasy a new product brings
as they pull forth
not from thin air
but from them, from them
a creation that speaks of their life
and of their ability to feel
and touch and taste and hear and see
more than just colors and flavors
and sounds and textures and emotions
but a power to
comprehend
apprehend
understand
all that they can
through their own rosy glow
and damn if they need corrective lenses
because they don't really
they have their own eyeballs to
see everything like it is in their heads
that sense of kinship you feel
when you find those that know
the ache of the need to create
a product of their nagging imagination
of the ecstasy a new product brings
as they pull forth
not from thin air
but from them, from them
a creation that speaks of their life
and of their ability to feel
and touch and taste and hear and see
more than just colors and flavors
and sounds and textures and emotions
but a power to
comprehend
apprehend
understand
all that they can
through their own rosy glow
and damn if they need corrective lenses
because they don't really
they have their own eyeballs to
see everything like it is in their heads
urgency
a frenzied fluttering of a pen
like wings of a butterfly
brings forth a waterfall of words
splashing onto a blank page
a terrible gush of thoughts
pours unstoppable from the mind
and won't let respite come
because its dire cry to be
HEARD
to
LIVE
cannot be set aside for
tomorrow when the passion
has faded and the ache is dull
instead of sharp and glinting
like the point of a knife
about to cut through a chest
to the heart to extract the
very filaments creating
these beating letters
cascading together to form
an ocean
like wings of a butterfly
brings forth a waterfall of words
splashing onto a blank page
a terrible gush of thoughts
pours unstoppable from the mind
and won't let respite come
because its dire cry to be
HEARD
to
LIVE
cannot be set aside for
tomorrow when the passion
has faded and the ache is dull
instead of sharp and glinting
like the point of a knife
about to cut through a chest
to the heart to extract the
very filaments creating
these beating letters
cascading together to form
an ocean
something
and when, when you do grasp it in your hands, desperately
make sure you hold it firmly and tenderly and tightly
but not so tight that it cannot breath or find relief
like a dove waiting for the rapturous moment when
it can fly again into the sky with its kin
with the spirits and souls and hearts all ablaze
of those that know the meaning of growing from the wild
go, be free and hold it in your arms
that special thing only those who are not bound
can ever truly know within their blood
and because you are not tied with chains
to the hard and tepid earth,
go freely into the sun and feel its resonance
coursing through the fibers and veins of your corporeal entity
so live, live, live and love and hate and yearn
just know that you are alive and feel and are
not dead, but bursting with the coarse fabric
of that which cannot be named
and when you find yourself slack jawed in awe and overcome
with the enormity of your small existence
let free the beating wings from your hands and watch it go
make sure you hold it firmly and tenderly and tightly
but not so tight that it cannot breath or find relief
like a dove waiting for the rapturous moment when
it can fly again into the sky with its kin
with the spirits and souls and hearts all ablaze
of those that know the meaning of growing from the wild
go, be free and hold it in your arms
that special thing only those who are not bound
can ever truly know within their blood
and because you are not tied with chains
to the hard and tepid earth,
go freely into the sun and feel its resonance
coursing through the fibers and veins of your corporeal entity
so live, live, live and love and hate and yearn
just know that you are alive and feel and are
not dead, but bursting with the coarse fabric
of that which cannot be named
and when you find yourself slack jawed in awe and overcome
with the enormity of your small existence
let free the beating wings from your hands and watch it go
snake's monolouge
really i shouldn't be called
a snake at all
what i am
in fact
factually
actually
is a goat
for the short comings
of two-legged beasts
that see me from above
and really my view
from down here
is actually quite pleasant
there's lots of green
and they always said
'everything is greener
on the other side'
well i'm on
the other fucking side
and fuck
is it green
down here
or what
and really
i never did like apples
anyway
a snake at all
what i am
in fact
factually
actually
is a goat
for the short comings
of two-legged beasts
that see me from above
and really my view
from down here
is actually quite pleasant
there's lots of green
and they always said
'everything is greener
on the other side'
well i'm on
the other fucking side
and fuck
is it green
down here
or what
and really
i never did like apples
anyway
words
he is my lover
and he takes me to faraway places
where he ravishes me and
shows me his malleability
and i bend him into my
own creations
and he shows me
the possibilities
that i can follow
and i do
and we come together in
ecstasy
and he takes me to faraway places
where he ravishes me and
shows me his malleability
and i bend him into my
own creations
and he shows me
the possibilities
that i can follow
and i do
and we come together in
ecstasy
of the other persuasion
of the other persuasion
all i can say
is that they are not of
flesh and bone;
in fact
it is very likely that
their lips are brands
that scorch your mouth
and leave you panting
for a cool drink of
their tongue
that speaks to you in words
of heat that slinks to
their fingers
that serve, in all actuality, as
conductors
for the electricity bolting
from your own skin
that they use as power
to entrance you, entice you
and make you linger
to see what else of them
is not really what it seems
all i can say
is that they are not of
flesh and bone;
in fact
it is very likely that
their lips are brands
that scorch your mouth
and leave you panting
for a cool drink of
their tongue
that speaks to you in words
of heat that slinks to
their fingers
that serve, in all actuality, as
conductors
for the electricity bolting
from your own skin
that they use as power
to entrance you, entice you
and make you linger
to see what else of them
is not really what it seems
Tanka from 7th grade
I've been going through long lost academic papers from years past, and happened across some folders containing my endeavors within the realm of literature and poetry. This is one of them that I feel less embarrassed about.
The quiet trickle of the brook
Murmurs of spring's late arrival.
Spring, sighs the bubbling brook,
Is yet to come but for several more months.
Mother earth must wait til she returns to extravagance.
The quiet trickle of the brook
Murmurs of spring's late arrival.
Spring, sighs the bubbling brook,
Is yet to come but for several more months.
Mother earth must wait til she returns to extravagance.
death
and when i was young
i would cry
from the enormity of the implications
of forever seeing
nothing
and when i was a girl
i would wonder
how others could ignore the looming inevitability
of their bones disintegrating
to dust and dirt and dirt and dirt
and when i was then
i would wait
for the moment to come
and softly take me from this world
and it was a refuge from my own hell
and when i was now
it's still there
silently watching
i would cry
from the enormity of the implications
of forever seeing
nothing
and when i was a girl
i would wonder
how others could ignore the looming inevitability
of their bones disintegrating
to dust and dirt and dirt and dirt
and when i was then
i would wait
for the moment to come
and softly take me from this world
and it was a refuge from my own hell
and when i was now
it's still there
silently watching
courtship
since
it
's
a dan
ce
try
no
t to
step on
ea
ch
other
'
s
feet
&
when
U
do
per
chance
f
ind
teh
BEAT
don't lose it.
it
's
a dan
ce
try
no
t to
step on
ea
ch
other
'
s
feet
&
when
U
do
per
chance
f
ind
teh
BEAT
don't lose it.
stifle, try to
and the feelings that i try to repress
only grow with the pressure with which i depress
and although i try my hardest to compress
the feelings that spill from my chest
they always fight back and take the very best
of me
only grow with the pressure with which i depress
and although i try my hardest to compress
the feelings that spill from my chest
they always fight back and take the very best
of me
muse
here she comes again
her feathered caress
eliciting a myriad of
that something
that something welling out
fom the soul
like a spring
bubbling to the surface
and flowing to your dry
inspirations
and it grows and grows
and you find yourself a garden
filled with flowers
waiting for you to pick them
and place them in a glass vase
to keep forever
and ever
her feathered caress
eliciting a myriad of
that something
that something welling out
fom the soul
like a spring
bubbling to the surface
and flowing to your dry
inspirations
and it grows and grows
and you find yourself a garden
filled with flowers
waiting for you to pick them
and place them in a glass vase
to keep forever
and ever
the sweet pure thing
white snow, white ash
it's all the same to you
and the folded, folding, fold filled hands
you place on her lily white neck
small and graceful like a crane
want to come together
like a vice
converging to stifle the life
that pours out her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her ears
and you wipe the liquid diamond off her
cloud soft, cloud white cheek
and you bring it to your parched, lined lips
and you take in her essence, her life
and you leave trails of obsidian dirt
and you hate it, how you hate it
so you cover her in red
in crimson
and leave her broken and bruised
with her virgin blood
staining her swan white sheets
inspired by lolita
it's all the same to you
and the folded, folding, fold filled hands
you place on her lily white neck
small and graceful like a crane
want to come together
like a vice
converging to stifle the life
that pours out her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her ears
and you wipe the liquid diamond off her
cloud soft, cloud white cheek
and you bring it to your parched, lined lips
and you take in her essence, her life
and you leave trails of obsidian dirt
and you hate it, how you hate it
so you cover her in red
in crimson
and leave her broken and bruised
with her virgin blood
staining her swan white sheets
inspired by lolita
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
there's something to be said about music
there’s something to be said about music
all glittery in the sun and in the moon
a balm for the mind, a drug for the heart
sweet, sweeter, sweetest
is life
look at it now, now
travelling through the air molecules
life itself can’t keep up
there’s something to be said about music
its pulse
is beating
it’s beating
and your veins are throbbing with
a sanguineous love for life because
there’s something to be said about music
all glittery in the sun and in the moon
a balm for the mind, a drug for the heart
sweet, sweeter, sweetest
is life
look at it now, now
travelling through the air molecules
life itself can’t keep up
there’s something to be said about music
its pulse
is beating
it’s beating
and your veins are throbbing with
a sanguineous love for life because
there’s something to be said about music
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