Showing posts with label Own. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Own. Show all posts

Monday, September 10, 2012

Because I Lack Social Skills

Please do not steal or copy my work.
(I havn't written anything is such a long time that, while I wish this wasn;t based on something happening, it felt so good to finish.)

The heart that was meant to beat in your chest
Was at arm’s length, causing my stomach to roll in fear,
Like an unworthy sea man on his first voyage,
Terrified of spilling his guts.

All in the name of love was the organ places delicately.

All in the name of hope did you tie your words around to form a bow.

All in the name of fear did my feet sore away from the pulsing thing.

You cried out after me
 
 
Cursing my emotions for not bending to yours.
I had never wanted to be an object.

Let alone, an object of worship or revelry.

As a mass of horrific mistakes,

I implore you to understand where I stand

As a fragile human being.

Friday, September 7, 2012

Treasure Hunt

Please do not steal or copy my work.


I can’t find it.
Where could it be?
I’m going to die without ever
Feeling it,
Hearing it,
Touching it,
Or even
Being it.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Musing

Please do not steal or copy my work.


Pay me no mind as I walk this lonely street

Feeding off of the lost and hungry souls.

I never learned how to be happy and was drawn

To how easy it was to listen.

 
I cannot imagine how it must feel

To have everything go perfectly, lovely.

I always thought life would be boring like that.

But I digress.

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Tired

Please do not steal or copy my work.

I miss you.
I’m lonely inside myself with no one
To draw me out into the world.
I never did well trying to fall on soft surfaces.
Pillows are too small.
The couch, terribly far.
Your chest was always there.
Your arms always secure.


I thought I was past this lack of indiscretion.
Just this morning I took pride in feeling certain about
Where I am currently.
I slowly disintegrated into this regretful ash.
I inhale deeply, trying to stay calm,
And have no choice outside of breathing it in.


Can’t you just leave my memory?
I’m willing to bash my skull in right now.
I can’t take how much you circle around

Like an angel waiting to take me to hell

For my lack of belief in you.


Picture link

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Stopping


Please do not steal or copy my work.

Motion was always my favorite activity.
Colliding was a necessary hazard of going where
I thought I was supposed to be.
UnEvEn terrain was my routine,
F

 A

   L

    L

     I

      N

        G one step at a time was comforting
Especially when the sun set and I was left in
The blackest nights known to hell.

Considering how motion is always made,
To say we went slowly was an understatement.
I did not s  t   r  e  t  c  h past formality and
The witty banter I am prone to.
I am locked in and safe.
My eyes coyly abuse the green link we share
Which, I can tell,
You do not mind.
However, my eyes
Will be the closest you will get,
My dear.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Cubism- Musical Legacy


Please do not steal or copy my work. 
Their lips are moving and spewing the toxic liquor that’s so easy to lick off and consume which causes and caused which caused the causes to double in numbers that caused my mind to malfunction and tick tick tick tickling my senses with words about nothing except high flying stupid moments of drunk stupors sick sex for the heart that heated and melted everything good inside or could have been inside or should have been inside or will never be inside.

Friday, August 3, 2012

A Moment

Please do not steal or copy my work.


Basking in the holy glory of every single minute note my fingers pluck.

Sucking in my breath I taste the chill in the air

And welcome the brisk winter efficiency I feel.

All around they walk, taking little note of me on my wall of carefree indifference.

The Kings hover around me and cloud the air with lyrical banter.

Their cheap wine does not spill when poured,

Every word is precise but thrown about with such spontaneity that their message

Is measured unconsciously.

                My closed eyes, relaxed by the swirling sounds surrounding me

                                Sense several significant changes in the atmosphere

                                                    Even though they are blind to the physical world which wounds

                                                                Tighter, twitch, tick impatiently.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Athenian Search

Please don't steal or copy my work.


My Love-In-Idleness streaked eyes
Burn from desperately trying
To see straight.
To make out this confusion
That has engulfed my heart, so.
 
I lay here, in the dew-soaked grass,
And wish my mind
Was not so fickle.
These tricks the fairies make,
Drown me, like my own personal anchor to earth.

The god blessed trees are a fortress             
Thickening, leaving no moonlight to,
Guide me toward His hearth.
And my feet are worn, and my arms torn,
From jealous branches that whisper lies.

I want to stop.
To fling my arms at the
Dead, night sky and cry
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
For being so cruel to this shell that is me.

I do not know
How to play this game,
That holds no rules, no
Concrete ties to the silver heaven
That I feel obliged to find.

Violin Violence

Please don't steal or copy my work.

I was moved.
Through all this clutter in my mind, that sends me reeling at every new turn and sickening lurch, I hear strings.

The violin is my lover. My soul mate; with its sad recognition of truth, a brilliance I find myself in tears to. I want my voice to sound as forlorn. I want so badly to hear beauty in the tone I wield in my daily life.

I need to hear beauty come from my lips. Lips that are always chapped and bleeding.

I don’t know how to sound sadder than I already feel. It would be a tremendous feat that could send me to the edge of every safety harness I have strapped myself into. That I have tightened diligently. That I have caressed with my wrinkled, naked, fingers. This is the intimacy I need: my pitched lover of safety.

A Letter

Plaese do not steal or copy my work.


I have discovered the antidote for getting over love:
Anger.
It costs nothing, and gives you
an escape.
With it, you realize that you are powerful.
You almost feel naked without it,
When you cross paths with the one who destroyed your world.
Your small,
Naïve,
Stupid,
World.

You want to talk to them,
To whisper their name in moments of tenderness.
To see in their eyes that they adore you,
That they want you.
That they think about you-
All the time.
Not just sometimes.
Your body aches without the warmth of their touch,
It cries out, bloody murder, in pain.
So, get angry.

Clench your jaw and stand tall.
Hold your head held high.
Do not betray that you want to snap,
When you imagine the taste of their tongue,
Feel their urgent hands,
When you make love.
Sweet, passionate, violent
Love.

Bleak

Plaese do not steal or copy my work.

I know

More with depression,

Than without.

I want to save them all-

From the twisted agony

My soul pulses

When in hell.

But, I cannot do it.

I cannot save them.

                Not all of them.

Still,
I know

How one’s mind

Shoots up acid

Into the nervous system-

Sending insanity throughout

The unconscious reality.

There is nothing,

Nothing,

You can do to fight.

You must inject your own

Mixed cocktail

To counter

The damage done.

Third Times The Charm

Plaese do not steal or copy my work.

Once is understandable

Twice is explainable

But three times,

Three times being tricked

By yourself into thinking

That you were wanted

By him.

Of course you dream of this.

What girl doesn’t pine

And waste away from thoughts

Of licking liquor off his lips.

Biting his neck.

Having his strong hands on your hips.

Daydreaming is a reality.

But being foolish is simply

The third time.

Monday, July 16, 2012

Past Tense

Plaese do not steal or copy my work.

Through my mind she races.
I don’t understand why
I feel insane
Blown.
Quiet.
Silent.
Out of control from the pure
Energy that I feel when with her.
She brings me towards the sky
To a new high that I cannot comprehend
But I need her to feel
Like I matter-
That I can go on.
I don’t want to depend on her touch
                Her hands on my skin feeling me for whom I am; finding my roughness pleasing and finding                 what’s wrong, and making it right.
Yet, I miss her.
Crave her.
I adore how the sun rises in her eyes
How it sets when she sleeps,
Calling the moon to bathe her in an unadulterated light of beauty.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Montage Poem Project: French Revolution

Please do not steal or copy my work.

For Class, we were assigned to create a montage project on something in history or our personal history. At the time doing something personal would have been painful. So, I did something historical. I have always been facinated by the French Revolution.



Introduction Poem

The Revolution: Narrated by Terror - La Révolution: Rapporté par Terreur

I was Spreading.

Like blood, I raced through

The boiling veins of men.

Casting doubt upon tranquil lives of deception.



                I saw nothing tranquil in my children starving.



The Yankees embraced me first,

With hearts of rage

And passionate revenge desired.

They craved the flesh of victory between their teeth.



                Taxes, drought, debt, cattle disease.



With the precision, similar to my brother Plague,

I leisurely strolled to France.

And what a time I had,

Dwelling in the minds of the masses.



                Their ignorance can be tolerated no more.



The messieurs and maquerelles

Invited me to their lovely homes,

Where the ideas of

Liberty, Equality, Fraternity- were disregarded.



                Oh, how they will forfeit their power amongst screams.



Their dead thoughts,

I hold them sensually to my chest.

As the sweet blood from their paper necks

Stain my hands, warming them.



                Vive la Révolution.



Monologue Poem



Writing to You with Love - Écrivant à vous avec amour

 October 14, 1793.



                Beloved diary,



I write you in hopes of gaining courage.

(Though I know I will gain none.)



Today, I was brought before the Revolutionary tribunal.

They looked upon me with disgust-which I am starting to get used to.



I remember the days, the wonderful days,

When all I had to do was stand upon a stool

As my tailor fitted my gowns,

When I sat in front of my vanity

As my hair was done and my wigs adorned

With beautiful feathers and vividly colored birds-

And the time, with the miniature boat,

It was quite a lovely boat…



I miss those days.

Truly I do.



The men,

They adored me, you know.

Of course, I never did as the rumors suggested.

I only teased with my favorite pink fan,

As it shielded my face, only showing my bright eyes,

Hiding my smile, so full of pleasure,

As I watched their lusts drive them to insanity-

Completely losing their heads.



I do not mean that unkindly,

Of course not.

But when one has a husband like mine,

Who does not care whether you are near or not,

You crave the attention of those unattainable.

Now, more than ever,

I wish he were never my husband.

My poor head greatly aches.

The lighting in here is very dull.

It is also very cold.

Bitterly cold, I wish for illness to take me,

In two days time.


The thought of my head…

In a pool of blood,

In an old whicker basket,

How did it come to this?



Documentary Poem


For all we know - Pour tout ce que nous savons

Thank you for joining us today.

Shall we Begin?

If you look to your left, you will see what helped spur the French Revolution:

-The American Revolution

-Enlightenment ideals

                Popular Sovereignty

                Inalienable Rights

All that must have sent the people of France’s heads whirling. Must have caused them to think of what life could possibly be like.

Could you blame them?

Now,

The les états généraux was summoned; - an assembly representing France’s clergy, nobility, and middle class- the meeting was set for May 5, 1789. This had not happened since 1614.

While waiting for this date, delegates compiled cahiers de doléances for the king:

King Louis XVI

The assembly was put together because, in the fall of 1786, Louis XVI’s controller general, Charles Alexandre de Calonne, proposed a financial reform package that dealt with a universal land tax from which the privileged classes would no longer be exempt- the meeting was a measure of forestalling a growing aristocratic revolt.

Because the Lower classes revolting was less threatening.

Naturally.

The non-aristocratic members of the Third Estate now embodied 98% of the people.

But they could still be outvoted by the other two heads.

            The Third estate mobilized support for equal representation.

            They wanted voting by head and not by status.

 When the Estates-General convened at Versailles, the very public debate rose to levels of hostility, among the three orders.

             June 17, 1789: the Third Estate met alone and officially adopted the title of National        Assembly. Three days later they took the serment du jeu de paume, vowing not to disperse      until constitutional reform had been achieved.

                A week later, most of the clerical deputies and 47 liberal nobles joined the.

                June 27:  Louis XVI immersed all three orders to make a new assembly.

                                Resentfully.

Shall we continue?

I do hope your feet do not feel sore.

Onwards.

 June 12: while the National Assembly continued to collaborate at Versailles, emotions ran thick as terror and violence ran hand in hand joyously through the capital.

            
            Despite enthusiasm about the breakdown of royal power, Parisians were anxious as         rumors flew of a possibly impending military coup began to travel.

            July 14: the Bastille fortress is stormed to secure gunpowder and weapons.

            Many consider this the start of the Revolution.

It is a national holiday in France.

You will receive miniature flags on your way out.

Questions?

No?

Wonderful.

Waves of the revolution swept up the country in swells of hysteria.

Peasants looted and burned homes of:


-Tax Collectors

-Landlords

-Seigniorial Elite


I would do this too if I had the chance.

What about you sir?

 Oh, I beg your pardon.

You are a vital member of society.

 Anyways,
   
   The la Grande peur: the agrarian rebellion hastened the growing evacuation of nobles from the country and inspired the National Constitution Assembly to abolish Feudalism on August 4, 1789.

Georges Lefebvre later called it the “death certificate of the old order”.

                                Déclaration des droits de l'homme et du citoyen:  “The document proclaimed the Assembly’s commitment to replace the ancient regime with a system based on equal opportunity, freedom of speech, popular sovereignty and representative government.”


To Your left is a painting of the day.

              September 3, 1791: France’s first written constitution echoed the more moderate voices in the Assembly. It established a constitutional monarchy in which the king had royal veto power and the ability to appoint ministers.

             As you can imagine, this did not sit well with some. Influential radicals like Maximilien de             Robespierre, Camille Desmoulins and Georges Danton were full of bitter blood. They       created popular support for a more republican form of government. Louis XVI was put       on trial.

            April 1792: The new Legislative Assembly declared war on Austria and Prussia. They were feeling quite daring. It was believed, in these countries, French émigrés were building counterrevolutionary alliances. It was also hoped that warfare would spread thick the revolutionary ideals across Europe.

Meanwhile, looking domestically, the political crisis took a major turn when a group of insurgents led by the extremist Jacobins attacked the royal home in Paris and gleefully arrested the king on August 10, 1792.

             January 10, 1793: King Louis XVI was sent to the guillotine for high treason and crimes    against the state.

            Nine months late, 1793, his wife Marie Antoinette was executed by the ever popular       guillotine, as well.

No longer would she be the life of the party.

Please exit on your right.

Thank you.


Conclusion Poem


The Future: Narrated by Hope - L'avenir: Rapporté par l'espoir


For ten months they hid

Amongst severed heads and blood,

Which dried prettily in patterns

On their rough soles.


            We were free by words, not action.
 

Blindly feeling their way.

I took pity,

I could not leave them in such

Despairing conditions.


            Would we ever eat the fruits of our murderous labor?


I could not wait for the days

When they would commemorate

All they endured

With such dazzling celebration.


             What are we fighting to save-only broken pieces of a dream.


If only they could see

All that they would become.

They would fight with more dignity,

Defend with youthful vigor.


            We can go on, but for how much longer is the question.


They will see.

No longer will Terror reign,

No longer will they cry out to heaven.

They will be revived by shock alone.


           We are slave to our mistress, Hope.



Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Why The Queen Went Mad

Please do not steal or copy my work.

The man in the mirror was what was desired.

A voice of assurance, lithe with love that had not expired,

Despite the subtle alluring from others who promised the world and more.
Such temptations fueled the body to blossom in such a way that it bore

The leeches of chaos inside the brain

Which drove the victim mad and caused her to carry disdain

For the mirrored knight-who held nothing more than truth.


This cycle of adoration, reluctance, and self destruction repeats today, yet,
It is the expected out come.

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Fear And Loathing (Caused by Doubt)

Please do not steal or copy my work.

I have never thought of a man and had the word delicious come to mind.

Everything pales in comparison when I hear your rough voice, when you rest your hand on my cheek,
 When your mouth is exploring mine with hunger.

There have been times where I have foolishly believed that I knew what love was. Many times where I have used those three words, strung them together like I knew the momentous power they could instill.
I wore other's words around myself, a choker necklace of deceiving black pearls.

Playing the fool was easier than realizing the truth.
From the first moment we spoke, comfort rested on my shoulders. It was startlingly foreign.

Uncertainty tainted the sweetness of the moments, poisoned my mind with self doubting when I was the only enemy.
Having you all to me may be only a dream.

A wish, of sorts, that may never be prophesized.

Childish hope clings to that thought, and yet, peace is the motivator of not running away from the possibility of overwhelming disappointment.

Friday, July 6, 2012

WIP

Please do not steal or copy my work.

Words and the senses are left for the ones who hold nothing but artificial beauty.

The blind sees more brilliance than the seeing blind walking the streets, which are brought to their knees by simple, symmetrical features.

The deaf hears more symphonies, made by heaven’s angels when they experience the purest pulse from the most vibrant bass; while, those who line up against building, to enter night clubs, wait for the beat only to primitively dance, not get high from the rhythm.

Making love no longer holds its meaning.

Its purpose.

Carnal lust consumes us and we could all blame Darwin: He was the one to suggest our need for survival-survival of the fittest.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Better Alone

Please do not steal or copy my work.

Do not dare call me the name you said in bed.

It offends my soul with its derogatory meaning of devotion

When you clearly do not look at me in a loving or caring way.


I am the meat on your plate.
My heart, laid out, is trimmed of emotion and blead of resolve

So you can easily cut it into bite sized morsels.

My insides were all disregarded as nonessentials,
Bones picked out, cleaned, bleached,

So as not to choke your delicate throat.
Your glass is full of the purest wine;

Which, contradicts the meaning of this last supper,
My last supper,

That you have lain before you with artistically placed flowers, napkins,
Candles for ambiance.


I am ashamed for allowing us to get to such a grotesque state.

I never could say no to you,
Even when the word stuck in my throat like a tack

That could never be removed.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Powerful Enough To Drug Myself

Please do not steal or copy my work.

In my hand,
Specifically,
The palm of my hand,
I hold the elements
That can make or

Break

My life.
They decide whether
I will hold a needle
To my paper skin,

Or not.

Whether I smile
As I fall deep into
A blissful, drugged dream,

Or not.

Hands hold many things.
Power should not be one of them.

Monday, June 18, 2012

To Hell But Never Back

Please do not steal or copy my work.

Going through various papers

My fingers brushed the envelopes

That held the roughly folded, simple letters you sent me

During the many times you were away.

I did not understand the full weight of those words

Until now.

Your diction was a child-like tone of enduring love.

A love that consumed you and made you miss me terribly

Through the long nights and blazing days.

I wish I could have held that kind of love.

I never did.

Not for you.

If I were able to take back all the things said,

And done

During those three years,

I would meticulously scavenge the tapes of our memories.

Hold each scene up to the light,

Squinting from my intense scrutiny, desperately searching

For the moment that it all broke down in hell.