tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44071166476075325382024-03-13T20:23:01.189-07:00Because I am.Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-6379503968128345902012-02-24T16:22:00.001-08:002012-02-24T16:24:07.425-08:00Wisdom<span style="font-weight: bold;">I wrote this a long time ago. Something more like 12/30/2008<br />It's funny running back into those nonsensical things and still seeing where I got it all from. I consider myself healed. A survivor. Someone who wears the blindfold magnificently. Magnificently.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But I can still see it.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Wisdom<br /></span></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif][if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif][if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~If you don’t make your moves fast, if you aren’t living life</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Checkmate!-</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Quote the killer</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~For your grave marker</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">‘Sweet crying Angel</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Made of stone-</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">If I die…Will you cry?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">No!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Seasons are reasons for you to be to be to be…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Skirts are short enough to be belts</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Your actions are Halloween witch</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Those blades are ice skates</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">All around the merry-go-round</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">November means leaves</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Fall</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Turn into fire. Red fire we mean.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Falling…Falling…Draining!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And blood and money is drained</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Like rivers</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">In polluted cities</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~You got special needs, sure what an excuse</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I got a special cure, or something like it</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Sink your teeth in that frothy gal!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Goldilocks ate deer poop. Life just ain’t chocolate.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Lovely, when I hiccup</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">You are thinking of me, Aw sweetie.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">…When I think of you</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I cough up blood.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Sir, if you repeat me, Pete</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I’ll be forced to take necessary action.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Off the bridge you go!-</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Psst, I can tell when doodles are having</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Orgasms.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Knock, knock, Come on in</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Bang, Bang-</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Testing days are bored days</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Blah, Blah-</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Getting rich is the cure baby</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Bling, Bling-</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Take that to your mummy </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Secrets, Secrets-</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Ain’t you a perty thing</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Screw, Screw-</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">What blabber you speakin’?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Whore, Whore-</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Stare at shifting foggy nights</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Pills, Pills-</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Come on over, Come on in</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Bang, Bang-</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Flowers for me? You shouldn’t have!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Marry you? Me marry you?!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Sure, but why are you wearing white?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Dirty Bastard!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~I believe in blood and gore</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Cut me up and kill the </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Whore!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Addresses, numbers, fax</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">They all require places</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-Time?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">None of those go well</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">With an unperceivable ‘sanity’</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Which thrives in the mind</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Of</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I, MySelf, and me and we</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~I’m an indulger.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Make me .</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">As society deems.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Blame me?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Dirty whore you call </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Me.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Bow ties make me go</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Sweaty</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Hot pants, wanna dance?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~If the world was backward </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Everything forward would be</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Backward and backward</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Would be forward</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-So now we love ping-pong</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Under the deep blue sea</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-So now come meet to fuck</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Me.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">With my husband</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And as you watch yourself</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Shoot me</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I bleed wine that drunk heroes</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Piss.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-We love ping-pong in a </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Backwards world</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Wouldn’t it be funny</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">If a fish fell from the roof?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Teddy bears make cute toys</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">But those eyes stare at me</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And remind me that a</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Child is dead and my child</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Is dying because the sky</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Is falling</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~Do you speak for your friends? </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Friends are only people </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Who put their eyes in the chalice</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">-but</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Pretty brown eyes</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I love you</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">~If death do us part</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Priest?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Why just leave me</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Kill me and I don’t bleed</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It’s the juice that you spit</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">In sex</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And I won’t die</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Because in death do us part</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">We are me and you</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-54056403549551822922012-02-24T16:06:00.001-08:002012-02-24T16:06:27.332-08:00Keeper of the Dead FlowersThe harness around the mirror is cracked,<br />Blood, bruises, and pain are your better friends.<br />I'm hardly a consolation.<br /><i>though i think you like me near</i><br /><br />I think I admire your bravery.<br />I think I admire your blood, bruises, and pain.<br />I think I wish I could drown.<br /><br />You could.<br />But I admire my desire to live more, or hate it.<br />Unsure. Either way,<br />I suffer for it.<br /><br />Because you could drown.<br />But I'm always drowning.<br />You just gasp and throw up blood.<br />I let it live like poison inside.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-23472221638694171232011-04-04T17:24:00.001-07:002011-04-04T17:24:48.300-07:00In Dying<div class="post-header"> </div> And so the mist swelled up from the snow<br />dancing in its own gloom glow.<br />Swallowing sun rays whole.<br />The roses crippled in the darkened night<br />begging for the return of light.<br />To burn out the blight.<br /><br />Gold hues abandoned the circlet in the sky<br />and dust replaced the eye.<br />Permanence in sight.<br />No more in love's ache and never in hurt.<br />A frail existence subverted,<br /><br /><br />And for the body?<br />Burn it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-39188797180068620742011-01-07T18:25:00.000-08:002011-01-07T18:29:27.345-08:00The HollowManJanuary 7, 2011<br /><br />My heart was the first to go-<br />but even so<br />Thoughts tortured me.<br />So I said goodbye to my brain and pulled out my eyes to string the life, poetry, and all else through.<br />The blackness still made it hard to breathe-<br />the truth.<br />So I dissected my lungs.<br />I really found no use for everything else and took it out as well.<br />I realized my skin still bled.<br />So I carved some wood and slipped inside.<br />Yes the fire still burned,<br />but I was still terrified of stone.<br />And didn't want to be like everyone else.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-1082858367099091342010-12-16T18:30:00.000-08:002010-12-16T18:56:13.168-08:00Falling into SunrisesDecember 16, 2010<br /><br />You make me want to write bad poetry.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Roses are red, violets are blue</span><br />Instead of tying up angels.<br />Glossy oil over marble Michelangelos.<br />Or even jazz that sings from horns.<br />Normally it's sex. Or death. Or those interconnections.<br />You make me want to dumb everything down,<br />You vacuous gelatin mind.<br /><br />You make me feel less abnormal.<br /><span>By the way,<br />I think I hate you for that. </span><br />There's something to be said for anti-insanity presences.<br /><br />I want you to listen to my lip syncing, listen hard. <span>Close your eyes</span>,<br />Damn'it:<br /><br />Sunrise's burn the waking eyes,<br />there's painful last breath as you die.<br />Clouds will touch you,<br />and although you won't feel,<br />You know by the tip of your tongue,<br />They do.<br />Earth may fold me in an embrace,<br />but not now, not now.<br />Today,<br />I feel your breath on my neck.<br />Stronger and warmer.<br />Ready for me to retrace.<input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="if(typeof(jsCall)=='function'){jsCall();}else{setTimeout('jsCall()',500);}" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-25254117044697136272010-08-15T10:21:00.000-07:002010-08-15T10:23:08.223-07:00Insert Cheesy TitleShe was dancing. Lithe movements like something from a movie; was it all intentional, this perfect coordination? Water broke around her ankles and splashed her face and upper body and she bent low and tossed her head like a raging horse.<br /><br />Her red hair flared against the night and her pale skin seemed breakable, even under my gaze. I could have seen her shatter for how strongly I watched her. <span style="font-style:italic;">She wore shorts only, and a tank top. Nothing seductive like a curtain of skirt to dance upon, but still it was enough. </span>Bare skin flashed with each movement.<br /><br />Cue the music that raged in my head. I couldn’t hear the music she obviously did. But I felt it. Thrumming deeply underneath my soles and through the ground, and exiting through her and her graceful movements like a spout. I felt the rain fall, and it never stopped her.<br /><br />Every night it never stopped her.<br />-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />So funny story. It rains, thunders, and lightning is in the air and I'm watching it pour and I get the craziest urge. I can't think of why not to do this, which is insane in itself right, but I figure what is there to lose. I go outside and lay on the ground. It has rained so much that it is like lying in a shallow pool of water and it's raining so hard that I can only barely see the lightning in the sky despite feeling the thunder under my back.<br />I stay there for about ten minutes before my odd laughter turns into shivers and I realize I've ruined the new dress I bought.<br />It was worth it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-75152153062282155552010-05-12T17:05:00.000-07:002010-05-14T14:21:11.768-07:00Tone*A note, a comment, a little hint. Do not read this plainly, monotone, or like a mime. Read with the hint of rhyme - although there is none. Read with sarcasm, frivolity, and mourning...Read with emotion that had been locked into a television screen. If that makes sense to you.<br />Without further ado:<br /><br />If there was ever a picturesque "blackened woods"- it was these. <br />Painted over by an oil so thick that it not only chocked the trees, but air itself. Screams were swallowed whole by these woods. Although you are lost, however no more or less than anyone else, you dare not take off the blindfold.<br /><br />Being lost, at first, was not so bad. The darkness was not lonely, and it hardly appeared dark. The shallow breathing that was forced out of your deflating lungs was symphonic, and almost companion worthy. <br /><br />It began with the itch on your nose.<br /><br />You itched it. Just barely brushed the blindfold. Just barely. <br />In fact, so barely that it was softer than the air around it, and even the occasional breeze. However, it was so alien that you became aware of everything for a moment. <br />The oil layers on your skin and the numbing cold as it stiffened on you - but that was gone soon enough.<br /><br />But something wasn't. You felt the edge of your blindfold on your face so acutely that every thread hummed with a strange life.<br /><br />You dared not touch it.<br /><br />But it rubbed on you, slipped and slid across your eyes, and you itched and rubbed your body in hope to distract yourself. But it was powerful. Even in sex you felt the threads over your eyes. Mocking you in their strange life.<br /><br />Sitting at the roots of this blackened tree in these blackened woods...You've been bleeding out slowly...You cut your tongue out...Ripped your nails out...Still the blindfold lay against your eyes like the marriage band. Stuck. Suffocating. <br /><br />The shallow breathing had slowed and you heard your heartbeat. A thump, a thump, quicker thump ... then a thump, a thump. <br /><br />Touching your face, the blood smeared. Your fingers skirted away from that filth. Skirted until you began touching the electrifying edges of that blindfold. You place your hands over your eyes as if to smother it in. Grimacing.<br /><br />You become the scream swallowed whole.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-83213418695522122532010-05-08T14:41:00.000-07:002010-05-08T14:44:05.023-07:00AftermathHe's like the ghost in my bedroom, true I can't see him, but I feel the presence enough to not want to change in it.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I feel your breath, tugging on my soul.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">I am though:<br />Soulless, ...maybe it's my heart.<br />Heartless, ...maybe it's my dreams.<br />But I sleep dreamless still moreover.<br />Whispers catch my ear,<br />although I'm deaf.<br />And I feel your presence,<br />although I'm numb.</span><br /><br />I'm the ghost to your handling s,<br />And yet you haunt me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-39591315003366201692010-02-12T18:26:00.000-08:002010-02-12T18:27:50.818-08:00Vanity: You are no FairytaleFeb. 12, 2010
<br />
<br />The Debut:
<br />The hearts you place in your eyes are deceivingly sublime. Stop those claws from the pearl of your skin. Take instead the bite of your lips to make accounts of the smiles you receive (ignore the pity). Wear it like badges upon your chest, but on your wrist.
<br />
<br />The Silent Ball:
<br />The pallor of your skin is not envied, Belle. The horrors of your nights are not hidden, and yet not horrifying. The whispers that ring your bells and shake your tea cups isn't gossiping Jealous, and the white room isn't encased in rose thorns (bending in coquette curiosity).
<br />
<br />The Fall of the Midnight Hour:
<br />Hence to your image in the ripples of the lake, and just as humble humility comes - it comes too late. The rose petals have fallen and the frozen pool has stolen your image. Hiding it in <meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CTeresa%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span lang="EN-GB">copious </span> dew.<input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-18361737806068501632009-10-17T11:30:00.000-07:002009-10-17T11:34:58.325-07:00Sometimes it's even...Breathe,<br />And choke.<br />Cry,<br />But smile...<br />You swear-<br />You're doing it right.<br /><br />That you're holding on,<br />baby just keep holding on,<br />For a good reason.<br />It'll be worth it,<br />worth it for love,<br />But it isn't worth it.<br /><br />You just don't know it yet.<br /><br />Submission,<br />Because you're scared -<br />That you'll control.<br /><br />Funny,<br />That trickery.<br />Those lies.<br />You already knew the lies.<br />Blackly, you say say-<br />It's fine. Sometimes it's even...<br /><br />Beautiful.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-19755834794032903452009-07-04T05:17:00.001-07:002009-07-04T05:17:53.743-07:00Permeable GhostJuly 4, 09 <br /><br />Empty words waver into songs,<br />Into souls you don't care to feed,<br />Cigarettes burn into tongues,<br />And liquor is the eye to infinity.<br /><br />And only.<br />And only because you want <br />You want your words to be empty.<br />Feel them and desire nothing,<br />Permeable ghost,<br />You can die but you don't die<br />From the constant way you bleed,<br />Beggar from the few,<br />You feel your life is empty.Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-44068067802718015592009-06-02T10:44:00.000-07:002009-06-02T10:54:25.645-07:00I'm ConfusedMay 2, 09<br /><br />I am confused.<br /><br />Today I read an update on a diary someone had posted on the internet. She had loads of viewers. It was all about her obsessions, depressions, cutting, underage drinking, anorexia/bulimia, and heart ache.<br />It's hard for me to feel pity for her. Yet I do. Because I am human. I want to tell her how to live her life. Nor is that right for me to do. Nor is she going to listen to me. Why would she? Why would she listen to me for her happiness? Or in seek of the happiness she doesn't know she can have that I feel I could bring her to?<br />She has to listen to herself.<br />Sometimes she calls herself stupid.<br />Now...I've wondered. Is she fake? Does she do it all for attention? If it were me...Would I ever want to post it on the net with millions of followers? Would I want them to know my weaknesses...my needs...my obsessions... my heart aches...<span style="font-style:italic;">my addictions.</span><br />Does it matter? What do you say when you are approached by someone who's life needs to be dictated?<br />We walk away. Nor is it right - nor is it our place. So what is the place of humanity? I read the comments of her millions of followers. Sometimes they say they agree...Life is fucked and not worth living. Sometimes they give her biblical references, personal emails to talk to. <br />I never do. Sometimes I say something. It's never much. It's never about her addictions, obsessions, weaknesses or anything...I can't talk about it.<br />I'm not sure why I keep reading about her drowning.<br />It does have me confused.<br /><br />I'm confused.<br /><br />I have a letter that I write to myself...to say. It's a single piece of paper that writes about my mood. Nothing about my life. Just my mood, where I am...How I feel. I update when I feel it needs to be updated. I read it when I need to know who I am.<br /><br />Today I read it...I wanted to update it. Because I wanted to put something of my happiness in.<br />Then I wondered...<br />Do I act/write how I feel I am meant to act? Do I read books, see movies, hear tales and think...Oh if I want to full out this cliche of being happy I must smile and bounce around. Because I want to? Or feel that I must?<br />Then wonder...what does it have to do with anything? If I do it either way - whether because I want to or do because I feel I should be doing. I'm still doing. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Lately it only feels halfway. And I'm confused.</span>Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-38103870147961242052009-05-12T11:28:00.000-07:002009-05-12T11:31:25.093-07:00Haters.May 12, 09<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br /><br />Rap gently on the door,<br />The flap of skin before your heart,<br />Taking the needles' eye,<br />Closing it with thread as you stitch.</span>Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-8198779200996800572009-05-12T11:18:00.000-07:002009-05-12T11:27:58.468-07:00Icicles."Relax or you'll die all tense."<br /><br />Says one soldier to another.<br /><br />-Just something to say...I read somewhere on the internet a story of a woman whose car was shot at, causing her to crash and be killed. Her and her little girl. Why was she shot at? Because on her car it had a bumper sticker saying "Half my heart is in Iraq". <br />Some Anti-War citizens decided to shoot at her and spray paint her car in red horribly derogatory things (that I won't write on here) for her lovers enlistment. <br />Her husband hadn't even met his daughter before she was killed in this accident.<br /><br />I cannot understand this world I am in.<br />I cannot understand this world I am in.<br />I cannot understand this world I am in...<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Truly it cannot be. </span>Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-56171272967265754932009-05-07T06:09:00.000-07:002009-05-07T06:14:02.341-07:00You and YoursMay 7, 09<br /><br />You look at her,<br />Haggard. Tired and limp.<br />You are pretty<br />And maybe once beautiful.<br /><br />You smile.<br />So she smiles at you and yours.<br />The lady next to you.<br />Who is beautiful.<br />She seems a bit scared as she looks,<br /><br />He smiles and watches.<br />You and yours.<br />A little jealous,<br />Wishing it were him with you?<br />Wishing he had what you had?<br />Or maybe just thankful for the smile.<br /><br />Was I once a child so sweet?<br />I think...I think...<br />I can't remember.<br /><br />So I look on,<br />On those who look at you and yours.<br />Trying to see them. Since I can't see me-<br />When I look at you and yours.<br /><br />X<br />Not so much a poem but an observation. I was looking at a woman and her daughter if you couldn't guess while looking at two people who looked at them as well. Funny things mornings are.<br />Felt I should write...something.Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-58124670443086365682009-04-25T09:36:00.000-07:002009-04-25T09:46:34.390-07:00This MarThis isn't a poem or anything...Just a rambling. Sigh to the rambling thoughts which keep me up.<br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />Why can't you give me life?<br />You give me love. Sorrow.<br />Tender and hate. Support and <br />Fall down experience.<br />Why can't you give me life?<br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />Is this sadness?<br />The small mar in my heart;<br />Which isn't even my heart.<br />Just my chest<br />Kind of like an invisible hitch in my breath.<br /><br />What was before?<br />Before?<br />Am i happy now?<br />Loving now?<br /><br />And when you're gone,<br />This mar? Is this sadness?<br /><br />What was before?<br />Before?<br /><br />I don't hasten to be melodramatic<br />But, I think, I love you and miss you when you're away.Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-77471140400942983282009-03-07T10:59:00.000-08:002009-03-07T11:02:26.567-08:00Pages.The first time I've ever said it.<br /><br />First time I wrote on the blog as a blog and not as a site where I put up my so called "poems" by others and mere "writings" by me.<br /><br />I haven't the faintest idea of when/if I'll ever write those so called "poems" again. I will...I'm sure. But right now I'm out of the click. Out of it.<br /><br />Ah well. No one cares.<br />(Hah, though, paradoxically, I'm vain enough to know maybe a few will)Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-7795369613481955552009-03-07T10:56:00.001-08:002009-03-07T10:59:36.926-08:00WavesI feel elated.<br /><br />You didn't even say it-<br />But I knew you wanted to. <br /><br />How did I know?<br />Because I know you that well. <br /><br />I cradled the feeling of warmth,<br />All through the minutes afterwords.<br /><br />Then I felt guilty,<br />For caring so much when I know I shouldn't.<br /><br />-But I am still elated. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">To know...To know...That you wanted to say it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I love you.</span>Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-25916499234249900772009-02-22T05:51:00.000-08:002009-02-22T05:59:04.489-08:00Winter SunFeb. 22, 09<br /><br />White swans envelop and circle,<br />Heads bent towards each other-<br />And bodies farther away.<br /><br />Just in between and below,<br />Dark blue against ice blue,<br />Fight and swirl against.<br /><br />And within the midst of that,<br />A colourful black brightens,<br />When the winter sun touches,<br /><br />Cold brightness with no heat,<br />Sun shined down on empty,<br />Just given a light against shade<br /><br />Eyes, you are, look upon and up,<br />See nothing in cloudless sky,<br />fighting with sea and horizon.<br /><br />For the end of Winter SunColor Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-24450183066938259642009-02-22T05:49:00.000-08:002009-02-22T05:51:26.358-08:00Colour Changed<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CTeresa%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CTeresa%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link rel="colorSchemeMapping" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CTeresa%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> 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Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It’s only songs. Only lyrics, only words. Only beats, only tunes. It’s not anything but a song. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Not a song I created. Not a form by me, words chosen by me. A tempo by me, nor a feeling by me. It’s nothing that is mine.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It’s still there for me though. The songs still sing to me, tell me. Knock me back and forth and fill me with a melody driven feeling. It’s everything.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I sometimes wonder if you think of me; </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">like I think of you at night.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">With my hand on my head staring at the ceiling wondering, thinking, dreaming. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I wonder if you think of me, when I think of you. Then maybe we would be closer somehow. I wonder if you know I love you. Loved you. Do and will. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Do you think of me?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Remember me?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I know you remember my name. My number.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">You call me sometimes. And I don’t say much. I think you are disappointed, but it’s because I just want to hear you talk. Hear you breathe. I forget what I wanted to say to you.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I remember everything I wanted to say to you when you hang up and I go to bed. Just those moments when I’m thinking of you. Listening to that song. Just hanging on the night.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">You call me less. I wonder if you know I stay up and don’t go out. Just so I never miss that ten minute phone call. Sometimes it’s less. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It’s always worth it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Someone told me – When I met you. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">“Don’t get your heart broken,”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I laughed then. We weren’t like that. And my heart still isn’t broken. And you could never break it. You could walk away and hate me – and it’d not ever break for you. I’d move on. Live on. Hope that you are okay.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">You’ll be going to war. And I fear that during the duration of time you were away training that you lost who you were. Or gained who you are. I don’t know you yet again. I’m lost in a phone call. I just hope I get to know you before I lose you in what could happen.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And I just wonder if you think of me. Feel the spark when you do.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">The spark, I think, the songs tell me, we’ll always have.</span></p> Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-31957290537765002022009-02-12T12:14:00.000-08:002009-02-12T12:15:27.894-08:00CharcoalFeb. 11, 09<br /><br />An addiction to sky and charming nicotine,<br />Smoke rising giving me something like hope,<br />Grey and burdened lace my dreams.<br /><br />Retrieve the moon ink from the heaven's lake,<br />Take the reed's stems and heed the songs ablaze,<br />Stencil change within the placid grave,<br />Give life, a dew, from above Sun’s high day.<br /><br />Tainted dust giving butterfly flight,<br />Swirls of outrageous orange and black,<br />Beckon the watcher’s eye.<br /><br />Then burden the dye of the butterfly wings,<br />Give yellow eyes to the very edges of night’s rims,<br />Shade shadows in the soil’s depths of Hell’s rings,<br />And silhouette the moon’s crescent in dreams.<br /><br />Do lay imaginary wings on my back,<br />Tattered ends with raindrops to encumber,<br />Destroying the magic in chipped snaps.<br /><br />Draw in heaven and hell, weave life and death,<br />Paint sun and moon and man to their rest,<br />Beast rein onward to the moon’s ink bed,<br />Charcoal drawn world held smudges of tread.<br /><br />My wings had cat eyes and lips,<br />Readily speaking, drinking, dosing for something,<br />Beckon for the dragon fly; give a kiss.<br /><br />God GivenColor Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-44400772615605280222009-02-12T12:13:00.000-08:002009-02-12T12:14:35.297-08:00With(out) IntentionReformatted from original: Feb 12, 09<br /><br />If one looks too closely, heed me.<br />Then crack, will the mirror and glass.<br />It beheld intricacy. Or are you lying?<br /><br />The stencil was chosen randomly,<br />You needn’t even bother to neither ask,<br />Or look too closely, heed me.<br /><br />Formation was a spur of imagining,<br />You’ve only found paper once unmasked,<br />It beheld intricacy. Oh, you are lying.<br /><br />Can one imagine the flow freely,<br />From mind to mouth to hands, untracked?<br />Only if one looks too closely, heed me.<br /><br />Not exactly without intending,<br />For the words of beauty to lack,<br />Because it beheld intricacy. No lying.<br /><br />So must you analyze this poetry?<br />Set it upon to be your own task,<br />If one looks too closely, heed me.<br />You’ll find no intricacy. Or am I lying?Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-20494759423434907902009-02-02T12:21:00.000-08:002009-02-02T12:25:23.578-08:00So Control (Me)Jan 7, 09<br /><br />Taken away by the breath of screams,<br />And the smolder in painted finger tips,<br />By passing freedom for what's free.<br />Love is payed in pain; so forget that.<br /><br />Take this parchment written in blood-<br />Your heart's ink writes as you read:<br />'String are broke -Chords are smashed'<br />Just as you play them and sing.<br /><br />This is a freedom march of ballet feet,<br />Which spin only in circles around-around,<br />In circles of hell and past the many gates.<br />Oh please lord, wear the matching leotard.<br /><br />*<br /><br />Fake my death in harmony with the sun's set<br />That's how I'd like it to go. So control (me).<br />So I can control me; death life and breath.<br />Breathing isn't living and dead isn't death.Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-3023003529107408712009-02-02T12:18:00.000-08:002009-02-02T12:21:06.789-08:00PitilessJanuary 24, 09<br /><br />Tomorrow is gone and yesterday is here.<br /><br />We've rioted against the conformity,<br />Only to show we conform in fashion.<br />We've dipped stencils in oil and ink,<br />Only to hear that it has been written.<br /><br />The only inspiration of anything new,<br />Is the dawn that mimicked the past,<br />Still seen and awed and applauded-<br />Until the sun turns into the same ash.<br /><br />We've doodled and called it art,<br />Brought it into galleries and out.<br />We've said nothing trying to convey,<br />And our eyes have just gotten weak.<br /><br />If we are making up colours we see,<br />Does it still count as we deem it sanity?<br />Does insanity only cross a distance?<br />A line that we will come to soon enough.<br /><br />If tomorrow is gone and yesterday is here?<br /><br />*<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">And we've all lived before,<br />And we all live again.<br />And we all will live again.</span>Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4407116647607532538.post-89106852292709767282009-01-07T10:59:00.000-08:002009-01-07T11:00:18.977-08:00Pleasantries DireJan 6, 09<br /><br />Still silver waters upon the edge of dying view,<br />A Lady walking, thunder following her wake,<br />Casually, created are ripples then to waves,<br />Down to our bled out feet; where the children lay.<br /><br />Her story, is our story, and somewhere is truth,<br />Peace is no longer, simply, the absence of war,<br />O' nigh, the honor of our forefathers anymore,<br />Emerald eyes layered in the bridge of ill sore,<br /><br />Slipped, we are, upon the blood we shared,<br />Blinded by short capacity minds which falter,<br />Stumbled in ruins praying at empty alters,<br />She runs from wolves called restlessly to her,<br /><br />She is our babies smiles and kids' intrigue,<br />Calming still waters lapping at our frozen feet,<br />Gone only 'cause we can't stand the utter heat<br />Of natural desert sands and our own defeat.Color Changedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14722408827579478097noreply@blogger.com2