| "the key is down by the front steps, under a plantain leaf!" |
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| oh how things are changing... |
[14 May 2008|09:20pm] |
So that last post was a doozy... wow.
That was clearly written in a moment of upmost angst and new too fresh feelings, but I'm going to leave it up because it's so raw, and I think it's a rare thing for me too share something of that nature. That said... it was definitely just emotion vomit, and things are much better now. It wasn't an easy breakup to deal with... until the next day...when that gloomy cloudtastical rampage that had been looming so grumpily about me for too long went grumping away. That sigh of relief i'd been expecting came...just a little delayed. I don't regret a thing really. I mean... things weren't what they should have been...ever... but then things rarely are, and I learned a lot about myself...good and bad. *shrug* We're both so much better off, lol.
That said:
Even being the big romantic (closeted though I may be about it) that I am I have always insisted that "love at first sight" was the most ridiculous notion ever invented. Lust...sure... obviously... but love...pffft... no fucking way. That was two weeks ago.
I might be convinced of this unicorn of feelings...
Yes...the big skeptic is quite taken, and oh so unexpectedly... and I know what you're thinking... sure you are... but look at your last post. Fuck you... I was thinking that too... until I actually met her. After meeting online *shudder* I know... I'm as apalled as you... and after a week of AIMing one another, I decided that if this girl was remotely comparable to a lizard I'd be an idiot not to cage and keep her on the spot.
She couldn't have been the furthest thing from a lizard. She's beautiful. And I know...i KNOW this sounds idiotic, and you're thinking...mk Romeo, get off your rebound and go drink some poison and shut the fuck up... but... sweet god I swear I fell in love with her the second I saw her. Then again in the little game booth as we shot up dinosaurs, and the DDR thing as I tried not to fall on myself, and then the horrible awful movie we saw... she's everything I could want in a person. Everything. She's the answer to my want ad. I know... it's been two weeks... I'm as appalled as you, but I'm beginning to care less and less at how ridiculous this seems. Maybe this shit does happen. Maybe. It sure the hell feels like every story, and every song says it should.
Oi. I could throw up on myself right now. I feel like such a git.
Wow.
I've been turned into a hopless idiot...
and I'm soooo okay with it.
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[31 Mar 2008|08:28pm] |
Michelle and I have broken up.
That's all I can say.
Something is wrong. There's a rock on my chest, or some huge big THING, and it hurts. It didn't lift off like I thought it would. I love her so much. Why isn't that enough?
Love isn't worth it's weight.
Michelle and I have broken up.
Michelle and I have broken up.
Michelle and I have broken up.
Michelle
Michelle
MIchelle
MIchelle
Chelle
This is what it's like to prefer something other than tomorrow.
Tomorrow is too many hours away, and it's so heavy.
I love her.
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| Not a poem... more like stanza-ed rambling... if you will... |
[15 Dec 2007|10:29pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 contemplative |
] |
The day I left you-
when I freed us of us-
You couldn’t see past
the “I can’t… I don’t…”
But I saved our asses from death-do-us-part
comfortable regrets,
opposite couches,
feigned sleep.
I knew we’d get over it
though-
I suspect
there’s blood on my hands
and heart-skin under my nails.
I’ll keep it…
gross?
To keep this dirty bit of you?
You’ll keep the scars I’m sure.
It’s only fair.
**********************************************************************
The next day I went combing the beach
Up and down and found sand dollars
Seven of them- not on some sea side store shelf
But on the real-live beach.
Who knew?
I assumed this was a sign.
Not knowing signs or prophecy
I knew only to put them out to dry.
They broke… I suspect a sibling.
Another sign?
Perhaps, but then I don’t know
And hindsight has told me not to bother.
The next week I missed the space you took up
on the island we’d created.
I hated you for putting me there
or was it me who did it?
I met myself that week
and would have voted myself off
but for Chunky Munkey and season four of the X-files.
Eventually my island had visitors
And technological replacements
to help my starving libido.
A month later I felt independence.
Had to change my own light bulb-
use a screw driver and everything!
My car broke, and my brother didn’t much care.
You would have, I know.
You asked me so brazenly for myself-
“one last time”
and being so impressed (and horny), of course I said yes.
That happened twice-
Never again.
A few months later I kissed her
And you were gone,
and so was I.
I think we both saw this coming-
no less surprising though
was it?
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[15 Dec 2007|10:28pm] |
Calliope
You annoy the fuck out of me
with your
always the right
words
at the right
time
so perfect…
-ness
You’re gonna slip up
and I’ll be there
for documentation-
write it out so
prettily
how you muttered a flimsy
wet paper phrase
Yes-put you to shame
and Oh what shame!
Eloquence dripping from MY tongue
highlighting my smirk.
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[15 Dec 2007|10:27pm] |
Less Than Divine Tragedy: Purgatory
42
their heart grew cold
they let their wings down
-Sappho
Their shoulders dropped.
Their hearts turned grey.
Life drained into their backs-
great myths sprouted in pairs.
They shook
violently.
Heated feathers whipped the air
they flapped their heavy burden
churned up a wonderful stew
noisy gravel,
dusty shouts of nothing scattered-
brown finches in a brush.
No wind picked them up
or lifted their tattered remains
beyond the razored grass-tops.
They clawed one another
grasped at the air
until each fell
one by one
against the ground.
Breathless, bleeding,
broken
they struggled against the crushing weight
at their backs and tickling feathers in their mouths.
And they died again
and went nowhere.
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| Bread |
[18 Nov 2007|09:30pm] |
Miffed from the whatever-
nothing-important-at-all-
argument in the car-parking
lot-shopping cart getting-produce-
dairy- section.
You’re doing that thing again
as we pick out bread
and just before I gripe at you for it
I get sweet on you all over again.
You clinging-hovering- thumb-index-
finger-pinching-my elbow.
Closer than a friend would be
and who knows who may see…
but I can’t get mad-and I was
already miffed-
because you’re so fucking cute
and I’m sorry we argued and I don’t
remember why, and now you look so
sad,
and I wonder
how many times you lost your
mother, and if you
cried
or just blamed yourself.
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| Refidgerator Poetry |
[18 Nov 2007|09:28pm] |
Locked inside themselves
white serpents sob.
Uncommonly curled writhing waters.
Consenting charges.
Rats unrolled.
Caterpillar children.
Sweet tempered and waiting.
Swallowing the wet ignorance
of histories
marched and tattered.
Hissing themselves hoarse
and grasping fingerless, armless
at something.
Everything.
Anything
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[18 Nov 2007|09:27pm] |
You taste of sea air just before sun- rise.
Before it has come
to warm too much and the gulls
have disturbed the tide.
Just before the stranded stars
give up
and waves retreat
with a heavy moon.
You are so much like this delicate moment,
that I want to tilt back my head
swallowing you whole-
devouring you
and the sea.
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| Sylvia |
[18 Nov 2007|09:24pm] |
You know where you will go now.
Believed it so strongly that you peacefully sink
Into the ground becoming something I cannot understand.
I imagine you otherwise
becoming the earth.
Your God and mine not so unfriendly as I imagined,
perhaps they’re the same.
Marvelous and grotesque- flesh seeps into silk-
Your clothes the only thing
keeping any semblance of you.
She takes them too- eventually.
Not even poly-whats-its can endure
Earth and Mary alike will take you in the end.
Equally I think, and neither with less care.
Embracing you body and spirit
Returning you wholly to the beginning.
Imagine underground vines creeping through
where veins once pumped
unfailing trust in something and everything.
Nothing grows that deep in the ground
But imagine anyway, for my sake,
as my faith lies in wildflowers
like eyes or liver
Snaking ‘round slender toe bones,
crumbling future pilgrimages
which is okay-
you’ve come home
and it’s been something of a crusade-
five kids, husband, grandkids,
all that time spent signing JMJ in pretty script
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-
No need to explain anymore.
Nothing to prove as your bones become hardened
And what was left of your hair fades beneath synthetics
That will probably never disintegrate,
But stand proof eternal of your mortality.
We all return to Her in the end.
Just us, and nothing else,
And it is so perfect.
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| My You |
[14 Apr 2007|05:32pm] |
jewelry, haphazardly organized, and hanging
from tacks on a bathroom wall.
a purple jacket- velour perhaps,
and jeans, and anyone's t-shirt.
the rest of you has been reworked;
made better or worse according to my needs,
or the time of day.
You have become something grand,
and these unimpressive trinkets of truth hardly remain.
you hardly remain,
but what is left is preferred.
it is mine.
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| Caught Offgaurde |
[14 Apr 2007|05:27pm] |
A kiss,
like every other kiss,
but somehow like the first,
which I thought happened
only once, but I was wrong,
and I feel the wordless shift,
just the same
over and over again,
and I think maybe
this is that horrible thing
I wanted to avoid, and so I won't
explain the look I can't hide, but
kiss you again, hoping you
will figure it out.
Hoping you won't.
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[30 Jan 2007|05:56pm] |
RULES:
-Each player of this game starts off with 10 weird things/habits/little known facts about themselves.
-People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 10 weird habits/things/little known facts as well as state this rule clearly.
-At the end you need to choose 5 people to be tagged and list their names.
-No tagbacks.
1.) I have these wierd musical triggers wired into my head. Any given random word has the possiblity at any given time to set me off singing ANY random song... recititive is especially favored, and you'll most certainly have to tell me to shut up, or you'll get the entire scene.
2.) Though I'm an English major, I cannot spell, nor do I have any understanding of grammar.
3.) I worry about my voice teacher ruining me... but only because my peers hate on her. I also think she's hot.
4.) I can and will eat sandwhiches for every meal, and be perfectly content.
5.) I like to smoke when I'm drunk... but I don't inhale... I'm such a dork.... but it makes me feel like a dragon. *BAD VOCALIST!BAAAD!!!*
6.) I have the worst memory in the world. I couldn't tell you my best friends birthday for the life of me, I will never remember to change my oil ... but I can remember all the words to any song I've ever learned... EVER. Drives me nuts.
7.) I always seem to have the sniffles. It's very attractive.
8.) I want to finish my giant tattoo... but I dont' know what I want to finish it with, and damnit... I'm scared.
9.) I'm very much like an adolescent boy... but put me in heels and a pretty dress and I turn into the girliest thing ever. It's fascinating.
10.) I'm rather shy.... mostly.
There... I don't have 5 people to tag, sorry. Also these make me feel like a boring single minded person, but oh well... I played along nicely. lol.
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| damn you sappho |
[11 Dec 2006|08:39am] |
So we had to write a sapphic. You would think this would be something I could do despite my inability to handle formal poetry. Shit... I think I fail as a lesbian. Here's my attempt at Sapphic Verse. *hangs head in shame* ps. the very basic form is three lines of 11 syllables each and a fourth line of 5 syllables. so quatrains... or something like that... i really should have paid more attention. lol. Also I've run out of things to write about...so fittingly I killed my muse. Poor girl.
I found her lying like crumpled paper just
so. Splayed out unladylike and beautiful,
between my thoughts on rumrises and silk,
she weeps vermillion
and it seeps into every crevice, clouding
every thought so that they are nothing without
her. Cool and limp, her fingers dangle before
my eyes, distracting
my view from further inspiration. Her dull
eyes whisper "caution..." as I finally see
my precious muse has been violently murdered...
and I feel nothing.
lord this makes NO sense... oh well... my syllable count is perfection. Eat that sappho. Ya jerk.
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| RAMBLING VENTATIONAL (shh..that's a word) |
[09 Dec 2006|07:05am] |
So we had to write a personel ad in the form of a poem for class... god I'm so glad this class is almost over. I mean... it's been fun, but sweet lord... if I have to write one more horrible poem I'm going to die. Of course... I'll still write, lol... but it won't be required. I'll just stick to singing, like a good little vocalist should. In the words of my voice teacher "you don't actually LIKE that poetry writing class do you?" No. I just chose to major in english cause I thought it'd be easy. *rolls eyes* Sometimes I doubt her commitment to sparkle motion.
I am not a lot of things.
I am not a fish or a wheel of cheese.
I am not clever
or suscinct or dumb.
I'm not into you and your manly extremities.
I've got pretty things in pastel
that I'd much prefer to ogle.
I am not one fond of red apples
or falling asleep in makeup.
I am not your therapist
but you'll tell me all your problems
and I'll pretend I know how to handle them.
I am not where I want to be in five years.
I am not unhappy, just a little tired.
I have no problem taking walks by myself,
at night, when it's dangerous.
I'm no hero.
I am not always honest,
but you can certainly rely on that.
I am not afraid to be there,
wherever there is,
but I need at least thirty minutes
to get ready.
I think my maternal instinct is broken.
I am not planning on fixing it.
I am not unwilling to tell a horrible joke
then laugh at it far longer than is warranted.
I'm not mean, just sarcastic.
I never remember birthdays
or to get my oil changed.
I'm me. I'm a little bit lonely,
but I'm okay with that.
I don't need you,
But you might be nice to have around
in case I need to change a light bulb
or something.
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| TOO COLD FOR SEX ON THE SIDEWALK |
[06 Dec 2006|04:58am] |
Freezing my ass off
on my way to class
I notice the first frost
and it excites the hell out of me
even though I encountered it earlier
mumbling curses
and scraping it off my windshield.
That's forgotten.
I step on an empty condom wrapper,
of all things,
in the middle of the sidewalk.
I'd be disgusted-
But then there's the frost
and damn it, it's cold as shit out here.
I think I should be impressed
by its presence
and I am.
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| Make it a Blockbuster night... |
[27 Oct 2006|04:27am] |
I had almost forgotten her completely
when she reappeared.
Standing in the line at the video store
clutching some indi-film tightly,
proudly.
My cheap and ridiculously horror movie
lost its merit as I remembered
how I could feel like nothing
while I hoped her gaze might fall on me
like it fell on the two for a dollar
candy display.
Even if it made me feel cheap,
at least that would've been something.
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| No title |
[27 Oct 2006|04:12am] |
Not your name
not mine
will ever be uttered
past those smirking lips.
Cherry glossed promises
that you can faintly smell,
but never taste,
curl past your teeth
mixing with the smoke
until it too seems sweet
and harmless.
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[19 Sep 2006|03:28pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 amused |
] |
So today in my poetry class we all got these little sheets with questions on them. We had to answer one question, then pass it to somebody else. We did this until everyone had a paper with all the questions answered. Then our prof told us to take the answers and write a poem using those words. Here are the words I got.
pink, my, little, ponies, a, beach, oreos, my, black, shirt, teenage, mutant, ninja, turtles, Napolean, dynamite, Johnny Depp, the, chair, firefly, lilypad
Here's the poem that resulted, lol.
My little Napolean,
a teenage Johnny Depp
riding black ponies
across mutant lilypads.
Chasing fireflies
but only
catching beach turtles
that hide like secret ninjas
under the chair.
He dreams of pink oreos
exploding like magical dynamite
and staining his shirt.
This excercise was highly entertaining. Thought I'd share... with the void. lol.
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[16 Sep 2006|09:33pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 creative |
] |
(Needs a title... something creative, that explains that this is about coming out. *shrug* I'm thinking on it)
Under the table
in the safety of its shadows
I hold your hand.
Smaller than mine,
but not so thin-
and not exactly chubby
but so much like a child’s
that I find them terribly charming
and sweet.
Even with that stupid ring
that you wear on your thumb
slowly making it seem
that you work well with plants.
I worry the cool metal
until you quirk an eyebrow at me
and I stop.
Only to start again
as my mother brings the meatloaf
and exchanges a look
with my father
that I pretend I don’t see
Worry. Worry. Quirk.
I take a bite of meatloaf,
hoping it will help.
It’s a comfort food after all.
Swallowing- my stomach turns.
So much for that, and now
your hand is gone
cradling a fork instead
and I am jealous.
Talk is forced and the elephant sits
in the middle of the table
sniffing at the green beans.
I panic and get up for more tea.
“Do you want some more tea?”
“You can do this.”
wringing your hands
in the table shadows.
Worry. Worry. Quirk.
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| William Carlos Williams Imitations |
[13 Sep 2006|03:04pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 chipper |
] |
So for class we had to do style imitations of William Carlos William's poem called... "Poem". lol. Oh my love for the WCW. Anywho, here are the ones I wrote.
On Proper Technique
first the drop
of the diaphram
and it fills
the viscera
pushes out
making
way for
the life wind
entering
then feel them tense
as slowly
it leaves
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That First Time
and they meet
shyly short
brief at first
then staying eyes
to eyes in
challenge
slowly
leaning inward
then back
then breaching it
the line
soft crash
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Of Tattoo Parlors And Needly Things
a cold clamp
pinches cold
pulling tight
a pregnant pause
for nerves to
gather
slowly
then too slow
it pierces
breaking the skin
going through
it’s over.
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