Deviant Login Shop  Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour
... spring!
just kidding. it's still winter here :stare: April fools?

In all seriousness, April is my favorite month because of NaPoWriMo. A couple years ago I stopped writing for a very long time (at least a year?) from a complete lack of interest, and then I stumbled onto NaPo and miraculously fell back into writing. so basically it's pretty important to me. I'm not sure if I'm going to finish this year because of exams but I'm going to try. So expect a ton of stuff in your inbox! (sorrynotsorry)
pssst check out NaPoWriMo if you're interested in trying it out!


and now, even though I was not tagged, 20 15 random facts about me! because I'm in class and very, very bored.


1. we'll start with the easy - I'm in my first year of uni studying neuroscience.
2. I met J.K. Rowling when I was 13 and too shy to say anything more than "hello" (ALL THE REGRETS)
3. I'm always complaining about winter taking forever, but I actually don't mind winter all that much. it's just fun to complain! :la: but I do miss the flowers.
4. I like coffee. very very much. and cats. and food.
5. I've never broken any bones - the most serious injury I've ever had was a sprained ankle.
6. silly anecdote: when I had my wisdom teeth pulled out, they gave me general anesthetics. After the surgery, I awoke in a different room, and was told that I walked there. Still don't know how I did it :shrug:
7. I've been playing the flute for seven years now, during which I've been part of a marching band (santa claus parades, hell yes), two concert bands, and .. let's call it a klezmer band for sixteen shows of Fiddler on the Roof (which I now know by heart, obviously)
8. I have an unhealthy obsession with Sherlock :noes:
9. ummmm
10. I like to say umm a lot
11. I also say eh, like a true Canadian.
12. A couple years ago my trust in paper was completely destroyed, and I haven't kept a journal since.
13. I tell that wisdom teeth story a lot even though it's not that funny =P
14. I'm left-handed. so are both my parents; my sister is the only odd one out.
15. I secretly wish I was British. (not so secret actually)



I tag.. everyone

Fantastic Feature Tuesday #60

Tue Feb 11, 2014, 9:48 AM


Please +fav this news article so it will reach a larger audience!

This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.


diverted genesisi call your temptation
Jesus
and your offering
Sin
spread your altar wide
sacrament
sacrilege
a tight wrapture
that sustains you
forestall me
and my devolution
into what I suppose
i am suppose to become
flow through me
and so i shall return
this
our troubled romp
your fulfillment
my diverted genesis

spread your altar wide
sacrament
sacrilege
a tight wrapture



the day i was a bride,i wed the river.
ever changing, she shed me
and tumbled over other banks: a
week later our marriage was
declared invalid.
"a woman cannot wed
a woman," they said -- they, who
wed their pocket-sized
technology, whisper dull secrets
to one another in the
lamplight.
my wedding ring found its way
into your current, and you did not
look back. our wedding certificate
became ashes, frame and all: you choked
it down, spat it into the clouds. it
rained desperation for the next
twelve days - five days longer
than our happy ending.

they, who

wed their pocket-sized

technology, whisper dull secrets

to one another in the

lamplight.




blowing my teeth out the back of my skullI.
we are hynagogic wasteland words, unraveling
corpses clutching at bruised throats - white gasoline
II.
and when your skin heals, i hope i've permeated your bones
( i will never be rid of you ).

we are hynagogic wasteland words, unraveling
corpses clutching at bruised throats




baby jesus.my bell jar breaking
head is
an aquarium; 
shark tooth smile
and a
whale's cry, rumbling
everything that
will never hear me.
i break down church walls
and wonder why
people scream 
baby jesus, lord, 
baby jesus, where is yours?
the star around my neck
sometimes burns
and 
i wonder why my dad moved us
to this shit hole
of a town. 
i'm a jew- not
a circus act.

i break down church walls
and wonder why
people scream 
baby jesus, lord, 
baby jesus, where is yours?



CompoundHit me with a lightning bolt that turns into a thousand hearts made of glittering plastic. Tie me with chains sprayed with fake gold and drown me in feathers dyed crimson. Hail to the Queen of the Second-Hand Market that walks down the catwalk surrounded by pearl slippers and Barbie dolls, who calls unknown numbers with red wire phones using old phone directories. Hail to the Doll that walks down the aisle to kiss her 80s prince that wears a dusty blue wig and a laser disc on a chain around his neck. In front of a congregation still in their striped pyjamas, on an altar covered with one-hit wonders, they exchange vows to keep changing batteries to the rotating disco ball and never toss away the ice cream machine, and promise to love pink and blue and faded My Little Ponies until they start to decompose.
Hail to the Queen of the Second-Hand Market that walks down the catwalk surrounded by pearl slippers and Barbie dolls, who calls unknown numbers with red wire phones using old phone directories.


the war that stilled father time.snow;
pillows full of cotton snow
beckon my weary
eyes –
tousle my hair,
soothe my thoughts,
hold my thumping head
children;
branches holding children
twist my red
heart –
vacate my lungs,
bruise my knees,
empty my deprived belly
tablecloths;
tablecloths ripped & stained
stay my trembling
hands -
halt my heartbeat,
strip my body,
break my narrow bones
gates;
gates lock in shaking people
& let my mind
forget –
that it is for the greater good,
that this is for our future,
that we are living on borrowed time
breaths;
a baby’s final breaths
have brought my morals down
low –
i can’t see the bright side,
there are too many bodies,
& blindness seems my only friend
(let us pray,
let us grieve,
& let us sleep)

let my mind
forget –
that it is for the greater good,
that this is for our future,
that we are living on borrowed time







Fantastic Feature Tuesday #59

Tue Feb 4, 2014, 9:23 AM


Please +fav this news article so it will reach a larger audience!

This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.

Cold and slimyYou feel my edges,
            finger,
             skim
The tepid touch of sweaty skin
Like
         frogs
    on lily leaves.
I fidget, throb -
             A fly ensnared,
Wings and neck weak, damp and bare.
Chaos rushing,                     eyes agape.
Chaos closing,                     no escape.
                 Spider.
            Legs   and   legs   and   legs
entwined:
My body under yours confined.
The web u
                                            n  w  i  n   d  
         

Down cracked and brittle
Cliffs and slopes of skin and bone
Like lava tongues - first flame,
                       then stone.



opium eatershello, i am maja
(hello maja)
and i am
well,
i am
a psychological addict to doing drugs and doing self-destruction
i hope the diagnosis is sufficient
although
i assume most psychiatrists would disagree
since i am obviously quite capable of making it through most of my days
so
i don't quite understand
the condition i am in
when
i am not sad enough to be called ill
but am sadder than everyone around me
and am sad enough to cry without a reason
or for a really small reason
hypersensitivity crisis
i am
out of puberty
at the age of almost-twenty-one
i am
living the good life
and i am
well
well
well
i don't know
maybe i am an ungrateful brat
suffering from
chronic dissatisfaction
but in the end
what doesn't matter is
why it is happening to me -
it is important
that it is happening
and that i cannot put an end to it
hello, i am maja
and i am depressed.

i don't quite understand
the condition i am in
when
i am not sad enough to be called ill
but am sadder than everyone around me




moon cratersTouch me,
once,
I’m a new season—
a new color, and I won’t
ever say what shade;
and every time ‘reality’
turns real, I crater easier
than clay.

and every time ‘reality’
turns real, I crater easier
than clay



to the nineteen-year-old girl who killed herselfdear Madison,
they say there was a blanket of delicate snow
at your service, flurries falling from the sky like old friends,
and winter has never felt so cold in Philadelphia;
even the willows weeped candlelight from the highest
branches— on friday Rittenhouse Square was breathtaking,
the sun setting on an amber day— there was a radiance
about you, a spark that burned a little too bright
and I know that you tried all you could,
but sometimes you can't help but choke on the flames
you fell from the roof gently, like the tired petal of a flower
compelled by the promise of gravity and a place
to sleep in the soil down below,
but the irony of a rose is that it is most beautiful once dead;
this is not to say that you are beautiful or not,
though that's all people seem to remember;
your existence brought the gift of faith to those of us
who need it most— you left gifts for your loved, and that was the
most beautiful thing we could ever hope to do
I will not end this sentenc

you fell from the roof gently, like the tired petal of a flower
compelled by the promise of gravity and a place
to sleep in the soil down below




5 Haikus (#18-22)i.
infinite little
white blood cells
creating a wintry cityscape:
ii.
the streets buried in snow;
slender tree-bones protruding
from the white earth
iii.
infinite little
moments in the black
marrow roads of these bone-streets
iv.
where people pass by
the trampled paths,
following the footsteps of ghosts.
v.
O, ghost-lit day,
removed of sunshine,
you've made a boneyard of these streets!

infinite little
moments in the black
marrow roads of these bone-streets



Fantastic Feature Tuesday #58

Tue Jan 28, 2014, 7:09 PM


Please +fav this news article so it will reach a larger audience!

This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.

A short one this week (I fell behind), but especially wonderful pieces :heart:


-proposal-My perfect girlfriend was beautiful and horrifying in the same second.
She went 4-5 days without showering because raising her arms over her head
caused all the inspiration to run from her fingertips to her biceps;
at some point she started doing push-ups instead of caring about
important things like education, words, outdoor colors.
I once saw her eat five slices of salami, hungrily, one after the other
like they were edible cigarettes able to reprieve her mouth
full of an aftertaste of ash,
and immediately throw them up
on the grounds that it was still being vegetarian
as long as the meat did not linger in her body.
She once painted her toenails blue.
She once wasted six days and 23 dollars knitting a scarf
she would never give to anybody.
Many nights I have woken to her crying,
sobbing because so many times she’s yelled at her cats
and they are simple things that don’t understand.
They don’t understand that her lungs contract
but forget to expand and the doctors ca

My perfect girlfriend was beautiful and horrifying in the same second.
She went 4-5 days without showering because raising her arms over her head
caused all the inspiration to run from her fingertips to her biceps




Evanescentonly the most
beautiful of creatures
live the shortest.
red roses and quivering
butterflies and other
useless things, like the
way she wishes on every star
she sees for a different
soul because she can't stand
the way it's rotting inside.
and it's only when
the thorns beneath her skin
start to bleed that her
monsters whisper, "have
you ever trembled, my dear?"
because they know
for every whimper that hides
faintly in the dark,
there is a pair of lips stretched
into a smile pretending
that all that is beautiful
is timeless and unbroken.

for every whimper that hides
faintly in the dark,
there is a pair of lips stretched
into a smile



fag.she will wear
the names they give her
like gleaming  pearls
across her neck.
she will swim through
the tsunamis
and cut through
coral cages
encrusted across
her lips.
she will
not fizzle
into seafoam.
but rise in
the waves that
swallow up the sky
and drown out
the old stars.

she will
not fizzle
into seafoam.
but rise in
the waves that
swallow up the sky



Through the cornea of the IBalancing on the edge of both could-be bi's
and teetering off the autism spectrum;
the mind is a silent factory and
mine in a perpetual neuron boom,
ideas growing out like roots
drinking in the hyper,
images entering as ships
in the docks of Eye,
every sense hitting this empire
like a five-fingered chord,
life making me waltz
through every shadow and tint:
life is a reverse cosine to flipped coins,
balanced.
I will french kiss history,
make love to the zeitgeist
until it pushes into the next one
and inject hope into my synapses,
smoke dreamland,
take poetry as LSD,
I will believe because empirical evidence
is a dictatorship,
faith a republic,
a democratic heart,
I will love dust
because altruism is my wife,
I will laugh because
what a sweet currency it is,
I will find the saxophone in every city
because God is poetry.
I
will.

I will french kiss history,
make love to the zeitgeist
until it pushes into the next one
and inject hope into my synapses




To The Boy Who Thought I Didn't KnowI know your body’s smallest ways: the nest of raccoons you hide beneath
your tongue like gangbanger’s tooth-split razor in jail, the pickets
of your nails, all studded sideways: your body a ten-cent California, illegal-
raised home. This is why hands heavy with bruised
fruit will haunt you; the way they broken-English ask how to slide
iron inside. This is why the hinges of your voice will fall
open, why what scratches you will grow the wrong way. Back
to your blood. After, you said I didn’t know you, like I hadn’t
counted the blinds rattling over your heart, a window with a dead
sparrow crumpled outside. Body like an envelope with its thank-you
note stolen. Your clawed tongue, all your body’s wrong-
hung loneliness. This is why you're condemned: I know that you’re still gay.

This is why the hinges of your voice will fall
open, why what scratches you will grow the wrong way.


Fantastic Feature Tuesday #57

Tue Jan 21, 2014, 5:24 PM


Please +fav this news article so it will reach a larger audience!


This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.



Sorry for the ugly formatting. Sta.sh hates me today :noes:
actually it hates me every day
someone should get on that



she's a 49ershe’s a 49er
“you know I hate crying, ricky.”
i know you do. i know. But…it helps.
sometimes.
“i’m too tired to cry anymore, rick.”
breath escapes my lips and my head falls.
i can’t help my sister with this…fuck.
our hearts are burdened.
we’re two southern children,
with old souls,
49ers not on the west coast,
and searching for diamonds,
as we filter through the rough.
i don’t know what she goes through,
but I can listen to her.
i can be her ear to hear her vent.
i can be her robin to her batman.
how can a girl not even 5’5’’ be batman, you ask?
easy.
she’s a cloaked hero whose main super power,
is the power of her will.
while she may keep some things close to her chest,
and under her sleeve,
i’ll always be by her side.
and the gray-son became the dark one
in nightwing.
batman touched him more than you noticed.
dick grayson
was a human vigilante after he graduated.
and she affects m

she’s in search of gold,
but hasn’t checked one area,
the place in which all of her beauty is,
the safe-haven that no one can touch




the artistwhen you color the world,
don't paint the shadows black
because their deep purples and blues
remind you of the bruises your father left
as thumbprints on your thighs,
paint them as they are
because fear is something you can surmount
when the blackness of night is unconquerable

paint them as they are
because fear is something you can surmount
when the blackness of night is unconquerable




please, eathoney, 
please understand,
i do not love holding you up 
like a sinking ship
--your hipbones are jutting above 
seas of skin again, icebergs 
tearing both you 
and me apart
have you drank water today?
because i worry
there is no fluidity in the way 
you move anymore
you are all angles, angel
your body creaks and moans 
like an old, worn out machine
and i don't have your schematics 
i know you've taken a tape measure
of every inch of yourself but 
i cannot measure your mind 
to figure out how to fix you
even though your spine 
has more ridges 
than the rocky mountains,
you know you cannot move them
you cannot pick up textbooks
your stockpot full of water
yourself
please, don't forget how to smile again
i remember all those years ago 
when you lost so much of yourself 
that even though i could help you up stairwells 
and wait for you on the bus every morning  
those beautiful twenty six muscles

if the world broke your heart
or you broke your own
i will take you,
with your mismatched flesh,
hiccuping heart,
and empty stomach




Natures songThe Bluebird chirps natures song vivaciously 
filling these ears with its crowning glory 
holding the helm, as the victors speech.
Perched proudly in-between bars of gold,   
wearing a coat-of-arms of shining colours. 
Veraciously, as now it wore so true and bold. 
 
Thoroughly colored as the one with blue.   
Courageously as nights assailant, 
strumming now wishes that came  to be true.
  
Whose plumes now spurred, prowess. 
whose black beady eyes, 
grew observant  without dourest.  
 
Now a blackened likeliness 
carried dimly  
to glare-of-natures-kiss, 
many seemed blissfully unaware 
as promises 
now wore-a-silent-bliss.  
  
Upon the perch 
singing peaceful, 
praise upon the night. 
You was a shadow, 
who's shadow  
was the key, 
To a cage without a door.
Yet somehow

Whose plumes now spurred, prowess.
whose black beady eyes,
grew observant  without dourest.




The Missing SoundI can’t bear to read them
any longer; accounts and dialogs,
the manifests of spindly travels,
referendums and shopping lists
scrawled on braided brown sack paper:
1. Bones
that flake from old sea crust.
    Another mantelpiece, perhaps.
         No one knows the reasons you horde them
         in piles of cadavers like a miniature apocalypse.
2. Ruminations
on a gasp of memory.
    A counterweight to your long gone lover,
         painted and re-purposed, staring out from hallway sheet-rock,
         desk drawer compartments, and garbage bin bottoms.
3. Stones
from a river bed
    for the many windows to her soul.
         Arrange them like a sundial, in arcane, hermetic patterns,
         like runes without an acolyte, or throw them at her spectres.
             

A counterweight to your long gone lover,
painted and re-purposed, staring out from hallway sheet-rock,
desk drawer compartments, and garbage bin bottoms




to you, who I love too little-love letters sit on my tongue, but i'm
tired of writing them, the coffee and
cigarettes; postcards to the old you.
one day you'll slip away
and become a bad poem, I tell them
the whisky like an atom bomb sitting
deep in the jungle of my throat
being in love and being free
are hard things to be
old lovers touch me like a flame
and my man sits on the top of my dreams
that seems more like a house of cards
than fantasy
i'm wide awake, he's fast asleep
and i'm still dreaming of the day
when who I want to become
is already me
so I write this love poem for her,
when she's drinking too much
and she's burning pyramids in the trees
hoping someone will see the smoke
with bruised roots and flashlights in the dark,
asking for her to come back
home.

one day you'll slip away
and become a bad poem, I tell them
the whisky like an atom bomb sitting
deep in the jungle of my throat




Dancer of the Twilight Hoursdancer
of the twilight hours;
that is what i often call her;
my little coco girl,
she prefers the term bird,
however -
as she loves their graceful
feathered bows in cloudless skies,
and the freedom they represent,
forever frozen
she wears them on her skin;
right where her shoulders
curl into the frail arch of her neck,
a place
my fingers love to linger;
tracing
those inked, weightless creatures
on her sunkissed canvas,
sometimes
i find remnants of her thoughts
scattered through our shared home;
careless doodles in purple
on the notepad by the phone
trying to fly somewhere
from their place between the lines,
sloping words 'n unfinished stanza's
entrusted to receipt-bottoms
and backsides,
i often wish, on days like those,
that i could bring the heavens
right down to her knees,
drain the blues from my eyes
and wrap them around
her skinny limbs
so she could claim the sky;
her realm of infinity
and bay of dreams,
the true home
for my little coco girl.

a place
my fingers love to linger;
tracing
those inked, weightless creatures
on her sunkissed canvas




my friend,whether you're wearing plaid shirts or a miniskirt, please know-
i like your smile. i like the way your eyes twinkle and crinkle
at the edges, when you're on the brink of laughter-
i would not remove one word from the song of you;
the layers of your voice make you so beautiful-
and i cannot speak of what, exactly, 
it feels like to see your skin and wonder 
which side has claimed it,
whether you're meant to be soft and hazed into landscape scenery,
or hard and rough around the edges- something you found more natural,
perhaps. i cannot speak your truths-
but i promise you this:
you can wrap my arms around your body 
when you don't know what else to wrap it in.
i love you breathlessly regardless of your dress.

i would not remove one word from the song of you;
the layers of your voice make you so beautiful


Fantastic Feature Tuesday #56

Tue Jan 14, 2014, 11:07 AM


Please +fav this news article so it will reach a larger audience!

This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.

sumer on the eve of sumerianif you traveled back to a time in cuneiform
and played them music,
they would not understand the lyrics but they would the sound.
you would say what you must with a smile and they would know.
I don't think there was a time before language;
being alive is a language.
the blind read the air when they breathe.
we are in parenthesis between the moments when the sun changes hands,
Gilgamesh and God speaking in two tongues and the absence of faith,
the hour when we are limitless.
there is a way to kiss every word in every language.
we can say nothing that we do not feel,
and we bled it before we could speak.
there is breath without phonation and
there are things lost in the dark fold of vocal reeds that do
not go away.

being alive is a language.
the blind read the air when they breathe.



2820 milestag-along games i play with my guilty conscience
as i am drawn running towards the sea
away from the cold atlantic and over the mountains
through misty moors and smoky shacks
into the land of giants and ruffians
past god's own blessed children
i'll rest in the foothills, sleep under the stars
forget why i came, leave my boots in the rain
eventually sing indie rock in memphis
cross the styx and enter no-man's land
sun stroke burning my brain
prairie grass tickling my bare legs
the flames will scorch me as i continue
questioning myself in dreams
visions beleaguering my addled acts
texas taking its toll, dusting me over
when i reach the desert i want to finish
i wish to relax, to lie back and rewind
but i must go on, i am not finished yet
the red clay reminds me of why i walk
the cactus appears as an omen
the roadrunner goes ahead and turns back to help
the promised place is nearing, i can sense it in my soul
a searching light is cast, and i want to respond
it is the final stretch
the pac

i'll rest in the foothills, sleep under the stars
forget why i came, leave my boots in the rain



To Lack Resolutionsthe television flickers, an old
sitcom throws itself against the walls, wall
paper for all the poor men. she
watches nameless actors push through
their scene -- watches them wait
for queued applause, their blank
faces. curd floats in her tea, sometimes
spinning like petals let loose from their
flower. she dabs at them with a cautious
tongue, closes her eyes as they bob back to the
surface. the television flickers, an old
sitcom ends in a flurry of credits, a
poor woman opens her eyes to another year.

the television flickers, an old  

sitcom ends in a flurry of credits, a

poor woman opens her eyes to another year.




somehow, we make it feel like enoughi.
there's a stand-still in your head, quiet rainfall
before lightning strikes,
you wait for release, the rumbling,
the turmoil.
the words fall away when you open your mouth
to speak, and i struggle to meet
your eyes.
ii.
i keep waiting for a turning point, a full frontal crash
into a brick wall; but you were right,
it's more like quicksand.
you can't feel the sharpness of change until it's already drowned you.
we sit back, listen to the storm raging on,
disconnected, yet hopeful.
i almost died once, and if i had
my last words would have been,
no, it's fine, i'm alright.
if the same thing happened now, the only words
escaping my mouth would be, if only,
and somehow
that feels worse.
iii.
it's the same city, but in the morning hours
the streets feel like they belong in a far away country.
you tell me one day you want to explore, and i'm already
putting pins on a map,
everywhere, anywhere. but later when shadows fall from the pins
and the circles ar

i open the windows and though the downpour
has ceased, i can still smell it in the air.
when i finally close it you are wide awake,
watching me.



The River RamblesWe cut each other halflong (simple
cell division) to find answers;
nothing spills out and nothing
floods in and nothing
ever changes.
It is a bleak burden, this
stargazer syndrome, near-sighted symphonic
strangers sipping endless streams of data
exchanging bits and bytes in and of the void.
Dark chasmal pockets
full of doubt, full of fever and strife;
we odds and end-less ebbs flow
back to the sea
as we are teased by landfall.

It is a bleak burden, this
stargazer syndrome, near-sighted symphonic
strangers sipping endless streams of data



I'd like to burn down town.She said I was everything she was looking for but I didn't want to be
found. Yet I was never lost, I wasn't even hiding. I was sitting stark naked
in bed besides her all that time and I don't know where she went looking if she
didn't see me.
When I met her I didn't want to belong to anyone but myself. Yet I wanted her, I
wanted her to belong with me and maybe she does, and maybe I belong with her, but
not right now. I can't sit still, can't sit stark naked besides her in bed all that
time while she's out looking.
My chest feels like a time bomb but in a good way. I'm out ticking and waiting to
explode, and once I do I hope I burn down the entire town.
I'm making houses out of people, building hotel rooms in the chest cavities of all
these guys and girls I'm falling kind of in love with, for a night or a week or a year.
It doesn't matter as long as I'm playing these games by nobody's rules but mine, and
I don't have a lot of them left.

I'm making houses out of people, building hotel rooms in the chest cavities of all
these guys and girls I'm falling kind of in love with, for a night or a week or a year.



I'm not much of a poet.I'm not much of a poet when I talk about
how the sun rises and sets and
sends tendrils of fire across the sky, or
how flower petals lift their faces toward morning
with a beauty uncapturable, unfolding eager petals
into the waiting feet of frost-laden bees, or
even how your smile curves so carefully
across the distance between us that it reminds me
how unfair it is to hate you for things you cannot change -
I'm not much of a poet. I will never find the words
to properly describe the feelings you bubble within
my blood vessels, the taste of your devotion as it
sweetens my tongue, the smell of your disgrace
as it sours my thoughts of you.

how flower petals lift their faces toward morning
with a beauty uncapturable, unfolding eager petals
into the waiting feet of frost-laden bees



Fantastic Feature Tuesday #55

Tue Jan 7, 2014, 7:17 AM


Please +fav this news article so it will reach a larger audience!

This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.



burn butterfly kisses
on icy skin; spring thaw brings white
crocus



heartstrings.i.
The night is aglow, sitting
in the depths of my heart;
the city lights knitting
pale orange halos above.
In breaths pale with Argyle pink
diamond, the lovers rise
over the very brink
of the iceberg's cyan crown,
like celestial bodies.
ii.
In the crumbs of honeycomb
scattered on the table,
I'll find our proteome;
I want to decipher our
genetics, map your heartbeat
and find constellations
among every discreet
naevus nestled upon you,
joining the dots.
iii.
I'll pursue you forever,
until my worthless bones
(in boundless endeavour)
are at last compressed into
Argyle pink diamonds.

In breaths pale with Argyle pink
diamond, the lovers rise
over the very brink
of the iceberg's cyan crown



12-10-2013Though I have loved you far less
than there are stars in the sky
or grains of sand in the sea,
you cannot expect me to help myself.
And though you have shone brighter
than any sun or moon or constellation
unfurling upon the darkness of my heart,
I cannot expect you to help yourself.
For a rose can grow in the most desolate places
when conditions are right, spiraling deep
into the cracks of abandoned parking lots
where the water is sweetest.
And from that rose come more roses,
until the concrete is green and spilling
over with thorns and bouquets weeping
with the golden scent of years to come.
Grateful as I am that I have pricked my heart
upon your heart, you are still so new to me,
and it frightens me that we are little more
than corporeal loam feeding a violently beautiful bloom.
And though I touch you with Midas’ trembling fingers,
know that I am in awe of every minute fiber of your being:
perfection, imperfection, body, soul, and synapse.
I cannot help myself.

you are still so new to me,
and it frightens me that we are little more
than corporeal loam feeding a violently beautiful bloom.



Muon neutrinoSome number of days
become one: a thought bound together
by the number of pills I took, 12 on Wednesday,
you forgot Thursday, when God lets his head rest
a blackhole forms,
and you ask for your poems back.
Maybe I took a reflection gold like yours,
a few back hairs, the phone you bought, a German market,
your accent, but my hand was possessed:
I spun a new era,
knocked around plastic bottles
and shattered a dropper.  My lines were perfect,
nothing like the fizzy bits of an atom,
when your car never started,
a roach on the nightstand,
my eye imploded,
but I send my poems back.
The ones on napkins, dollars, candy wrappers,
unduplicated sinews of sex, laughter,
or just an amphetamine,
your smile--
You were always better. And better
is impossible to swallow,
light's always faster,
and when God blinks,
nothing happens.

but I send my poems back.
The ones on napkins, dollars, candy wrappers,
unduplicated sinews of sex, laughter,
or just an amphetamine



complimentary colorsand today, I must speak to you about the colors of the ground,
I must touch the sky with a pinch of sand and
call the salt upwards, spiraling back into the breakfast of birds,
creating miracles but blocking rainbows.
the shadows are solid, like they were painted,
perhaps by an amateur, the ground has failed to be part of the earth.
but I am not alone for the pigeons hold a hearing, a call to order,
they speak in a contour of rustles, but what they say is the same,
that we all must crawl back under leaves
for the sun is falling into the ocean, and we cannot.

I am not alone for the pigeons hold a hearing, a call to order,
they speak in a contour of rustles, but what they say is the same



The Truth About Words.words, words,
oh those words,
sometimes they don't
comfort me.
they cling to my eyelashes,
parade against the seem
of my closed lips,
make my heart repeat
it's dance beneath my ivory
rib case so many times
it sings a tune entirely
of its own.
letters
phrases
sentences
stanza's,
they all waltz
through the realms
of my mind,
sweeping clean
the carefully preserved
cobwebs of corners
i've deemed forgotten,
and doors i thought
i locked and thrown away
the keys.
trying to break free
they cry havoc against
my skin-and-bone-armour,
torturing me from within
to give sleep a backseat
and grab that lined notebook
& always (a)waiting pen.
on nights like that
i sing my secrets towards
the indigo-soaked sky,
tie my hopes to
hidden stars
and pray that
lady silver will help me
preserve my sanity
for yet another
waking day.

i sing my secrets towards
the indigo-soaked sky,
tie my hopes to
hidden stars



Oh, but do you have to go so soonVampires beneath the ti-trees
tossing dusk-blue shadows
over the burning fire-grass seas
watching a sun slip away,
molten coin falling falling falling,
falling
all the way
down
(fields
made of gold, made of
tremble,
crying seeds into the
summer-dry winds)

fields
made of gold, made of
tremble,
crying seeds into the
summer-dry winds







Please +fav this news article so it will reach a larger audience!

This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.

But first - happy new year everyone! :party: I wish you all a great start to 2014 and hope that all your goals for the new year will be successful and meaningful. It's only afternoon here on the 31st but I'm already excited for 2014! One of my goals is to post this feature every week, no matter how busy I am. Here's to time management!


<da:thumb id="406955631"/>
I am captain;
until red curtains meet grey
concrete. Curtains.



enoughi am a map of closed doors,
(nautilus chambers of the mind) and inside, i
am walking from room to room, turning
all the lights on, then back off again.
without you, the world
is unnameable. voiceless now,
this animate limbed thing
that i am, piloted like a shipwreck's memory:
winter to spring
to winter again.
like arithmetic we learn
and forget ourselves,
grieving, carbon-scripted vessels
that we are--
spectators to passion and its disappearing act;
(how our teeth
become bone chimes
hanging in a rusted valley, ringing
with dead sound.)
how to rename it. how to even begin.
how to harness this ache
to the lathe. carve myself to meet
this godless horizon; my body a shaft
of cold light, refracting
across an empty room.
vacant machine. stopped mouth.
the incompleteness
of it, standing at the edge of an ocean,
blank and bloodless,
with an empty cup in my hands.
(but if i were to fill it, again,
i would drink
until i drowned.)

carve myself to meet
this godless horizon; my body a shaft
of cold light, refracting
across an empty room.



eight ways you've made me small1. I wish
this was for you.
2. my journal pages - the
brown one with all our monologues -
were jarred with hollow vows of
last poems of
loving me
loving me
loving me;
letting you slip into a coma
of bad memories, watching you
fall to your death off
a cascading cliff of disease
and dis ease.
it was never
easy for me
either.
3. there's a reason I ask
whether you're grey
(dark white, elusively black, in between)
or blue (behind the clouds, under wave-foam,
whateverthefuck runs through the back of my
palms); I'd rather have
you
than the arms
that once held you half-
heartedly. you had always been
my harmony and I
would have killed
to have been yours.
4. it could never have been just me, the way
it could never have been just
her.
5. disasters are not beautiful,
but how is it that you
managed to make my inner linings
converge into bows
and explode into wings the very
night you decided to rebuild your walls
to a lower height?
6. I wish

I'd rather have
you
than the arms
that once held you half-
heartedly.



Lost LightsPeter Pan, with his hands cupped,
tempts the Moon Mother with his smile.
Shy stars peek past her skirts,
wondering why such a soft soul
holds heartache an ally.
"Look closer, children; he's here
to guide ghosts--lost lights--home."


Shy stars peek past her skirts,
wondering why such a soft soul
holds heartache an ally.


A Man Gunned Down(one)
Lead shuttle fracking open skin and
(two)
blood flailing in the echo of
(three)
steel cries whipping skin,
(four)
dance of burning pink and
(five)
a white-hot snapshot from
(six)
Grim's bang-bang camera,
(seven)
down.

a white-hot snapshot from
(six)
Grim's bang-bang camera,
(seven)
down.



Dysphoriashe sells 9mm shells by the seashore,
says she can hear the ocean.
but if you listen close to these shells
you can hear ghosts.
something borrowed, something blue,
something broken, something bruised.
she traces her fingers across the autopsy scars
while she counts her bones like currency.
she'll leave your skin screaming,
and sink into the whites of your eyes like a shipwreck.
can you hear the ocean?

she'll leave your skin screaming,
and sink into the whites of your eyes like a shipwreck.



My Boy is of the SeaHis voice is deep but hollow,
a riddled-out cavern driven deep
through the center of the earth
His laughs are glancing echoes
off long-forgotten bones,
his whispers swirling currents
scooping pearls from their oysters -
rushing tides about to sweep
an unsuspecting seabird off her feet
From his eyes, bubbles dribble,
opaque tears slipping off a
crocodile snout, and he drifts near me,
arms stretched wide – beseeching,
though the whole ocean is at his command
Seahorses wound through his kelp-forest hair
whinny a warning,
but I am entranced
Surely nothing this beautiful could be
dangerous?
Surely nothing that wants me like this
could also want me harm?
His crab claws lunge for me, but I am not afraid
They rake across my feathers, but I am not in pain
Even blood looks beautiful down here -
it hides me from the world
Waves grab me up, and toss me
I am a whirlpool.
My innocence goes flying
Swallowed by a binge-happy blue whale
My wings are shredded
by a crowd of eager piranha,
And my ba

From his eyes, bubbles dribble,
opaque tears slipping off a
crocodile snout, and he drifts near me,
arms stretched wide


Hey guys! Thought I would pop in and say hello, wish you all a happy holiday, and let you know if I'm ever coming back to this place. The answer is yes, but not yet. I'm about to begin finals and I'm pretty busy so I've decided to postpone my hiatus just a little longer until winter break, during which I will delete everything from my inbox and get a head start on features so that I don't screw myself over when school starts again.

School is going pretty well. I'm a little disappointed in my marks but then again everyone around me gets excited by a B+ so I guess I'm doing alright =P I have high standards. I got myself a position in a research lab at a mental health university/institute doing EEGs (COOL RIGHT??) next semester so I'm going to be really busy, especially with band practice and giving music lessons as well. Time to upgrade my time management skills?

Lastly, I very recently received my fourth DLD on my poem 'love, and other natural disasters'

love, and other natural disastersacres of barely concealed tragedy
are sprawled along the vacant beach,
spreadeagled like a group of starfish or
a colony of dead Vitruvian men.
hair becomes whip-like in wind
as shorelines burst onto squeals of water,
each one a hideous screech
from gaping jaws, a cry that echoes
for hours while stars tick-tock overhead.
i could swallow entire mouthfuls
of the pale sun, feel them explode
like lightning strokes in my aching belly
and still think like a deserted seashore -
the only signs of life
ruffled seagulls picking at dry oyster shells.
the earth is a sphere and the coast
is a box of empty prayers
held together by a couple loose ends
of fishing wire
sharp enough to slit throats.


Thank you so much toxic--sunrise and TwilightPoetess for making my day a whole lot brighter! :hug:

I'm going to go disappear for another three weeks now, though I do pop in almost every day to check on my groups and respond to (some) comments :aww:

I do not celebrate Thanksgiving (American or otherwise) so share with me the adventures of your weekend! Turkey and shopping? Perhaps shopping for turkeys? What's your Thanksgiving dinner (or is it lunch? oops) like?

GGG Feature!

Sun Oct 27, 2013, 8:00 PM


As you have already probably heard, PoeticalCondition hosted a really fantastic contest a while ago and the winners have been announced! I'm so late on this feature but I've been crazy busy, so I'm sorry if anyone was waiting on this!

PS. Sta.sh is being a bitch so apologies for the awkward formatting I promise I'm not actually this bad at making things look pretty I HATE YOU STA.SH  /endrant




First Place


:iconmalintra-shadowmoon:
Malintra-Shadowmoon
Star Child in WinterCarefully, I step on the white dusted grass.
The frozen evening dew moistens me.
It is cold – I do not feel it.
Only the silence of the night is all around me.
My hair becomes entangled in an icy wind.
So that I fear to be blown away.
I reach out for the branch of a tree
To seek help and protection.
In front of me I can see the forest in awesome loftiness.
The trees welcome me.
Finally I arrive at the spot I am heading to –
The clearing – a spiritual place.
I stop in the middle of this circle –
Symbol of eternity, image of perfection.
I wait and only my breath can be heard.
Time seems to stand still.
Then, at last – the clouds flee
And unveil the radiating face of the moon.
Its illumination seems to cover everything
With liquid silver.
Shimmering gold is mingling among the
Silvery glittering night-blue sky.
Unnumbered stars are strewn into the night.
High up I lift my face.
My eyes catch the light of the moon and the stars.
I know that the time has come.
Determined I lower my head,
Rai
A Magic Night of Sorrow and Hope
I feel that something in the wood is other than usual.
There is a happy mood that is mysterious at the same time.
The senses are sharpened.
Like from afar I mean to hear the music of elves.
The songs they are singing are merry and joyous.
Songs that echo through the night that will not become dark.
Songs, penetrating deep into my soul.
That let me forget this world and make me dreaming.
But beyond all high mountains, under oaks and beeches dense.
There, where the moss has a sappy green and
The light breaks through the foliage,
Lies a pool deeply hidden, legendary and mythical,
Carries a whispering secret, conceals its power in the water.
Because thousands of elves were weeping, tears so enormously clear,
For the stream of life which had died tonight. For the oceans which do not breathe,
For the rivers deaf and blind, for the once so beautiful lakes which are only dried.
For the trees and the plants around lying in their agonies.
Nothing of the cheerful songs will ever dry their pain.
I
Fairy Tale Castle by Malintra-Shadowmoon


Second Place


:iconspidermilkshake:
SpiderMilkshake
Sun-Day For Wurms~ by SpiderMilkshake My Unthinking CapMy Unthinking Cap
Have you ever tasted dirt?
There’s nothing wrong with the flavor of Earth
But—for our finite tastes—too gritty
A lashing-back lie that keeps away all tongues.
However, I love the crunch and the whiff of soft silt
The squishing brown wilt
And no, I don’t share a bedroom with Pica
That slimed affliction.
The taste of Earth’s heart sometimes pops out
It greets the spring moonrise and drip-drips off the ferns
With a tip of its homely cap.
When this gentleman of the night bears his fruit
I become a Venusian boar that scows
In the patch of floodmeadow behind the church
Where his courtiers gather.
I can be anything, he says, anything;
List whatever you want: savory-syruped steak
Treacley truffle in a cream of wheat
Baked into a mound of hellacious steam
Burning forth
Raw vegetable goodness, or sweet
Cinnamon-rice stuffed, or for the meek
Fried crisp with the Trinity and pepper flaked.
I am a mushroom and I can be anythin
Dreams and Nightmares by SpiderMilkshake



Third Place


:iconpauper-circumstance:
Pauper-Circumstance
epilogue of a dreamerDear Poetry,
some smiles,
leap through eternity;
it is an autobiography
(of) when I was a child....
The Dream, the dream,
in chains
        chains
               CHAINS!!!
These aren’t just laws, they’re constants!
Hope,
(a) false ambition-
twistful irony.
it ought to tell me enough
wishes are never found
Dreamscape,
everyone has one;
falling asleep among the stars,
loving every minute:
senseless lovers
There are times
I'm being selfish,
feeling this way
all will be well
the honest truth?
FATE be damned!!!
Persevere!
dreamer
one last poetic goodbyeThere once was a little girl,
(singing) a love poem to rainy evenings in town-
a love poem for a bibliophile,
just (for) me
Why must I suffer?
I am so blind!
I'm a mask,
wishing (with) some mad hope
(that) a beautiful life,
(and) a better tomorrow
exist
Hope is like a flower,
always half finished
          waking      wishing____________ waiting
Darling?
Don't feign ignorance (me)
My words are flightless birds,
lost in my own separate sky.
I am sorry sugar.
I am (just) the bird with the broken wing,
mourning (your) treasure map heart.....
and then I wake up
(with my) hope in  s    h    r    e    d   s
FirefliesFireflies flicker in the evening,
shine brightly at night.
little stars with wings,
make the dark seem so,
much
less
frightening.
Oh, these fireflies give us hope,
little bright lights of hope,
that no shadow can consume
that every dark corner fears…..
Evil wants to eat these fireflies;
black holes want to suck up these stars,
but none can touch our brave
fireflies.
Through dark times they have courage
where would we be without them?
who can show us a path?
in the dark
better than
a
firefly.
These fireflies are our inspirations-
show strength;
give us hope
to one day
bring light too!
Fireflies are everywhere,
little bright fireflies,
never do they fade.
I wish I was as strong as fireflies,
they face a darkness,
I could never face.
yet they defeat it,
because they are bright stars
and nothing can touch,
or harm
these wonderful
little
Fireflies.








If you were just here for the feature and are completely uninterested in my personal life, you may leave now =P

So I've been AWOL in the past month, I know. I haven't even written anything since.. august? College is so much harder than I thought it would be. I have three midterms this week and it's very overwhelming and sorry to anyone that was expecting a feature in the last two weeks but real life comes first :shrug:

Once this week is over I'm hoping to get back on track with features and reading everyone's stuff and everything. Not promising anything though.

That's all we got time for.. just wanted to let you guys know I'm still alive, and to post this feature that was due about two weeks ago, oops...

How are you all doing? Anything exciting happening for halloween? I have a midterm at 6PM. This girl ain't going trick or treating, nope. (also I'm way too old but shh)
:peace:

Please +fav this article so it will reach a larger audience!

This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.

Also this should really be renamed to Fantastic Feature Wednesday because I suck at setting myself deadlines but anyway.

 

 

why irony is a valid literary devicewhen i touched you for the first time
i noticed the way you breathed
like pages,
a novel woven under my fingers,
a story told in the way you whispered
above the voices of the Notebook
playing idly on my mother's tv,
a breath, breath, breath,
a hum that still reminds me of
the first time i met you
when we were five years old and
your voice sounded like a torrid
of gunfire and shells, breathing
an attack, attack attack
and my heart beat my chest,
my knees weak
and i couldn't breathe.
but when i touched you for the first time
i told you, "the Notebook
is the most overrated film ever made,"
and you laughed and asked,
your eyes fixated on the books strewn
about my room, then back to my bare chest,
"is it because the book was better?"
and i could only stare back
above the gunfire that echoes still
in your voice,
because i could not breathe,
and when you can't breathe
you can't speak
and i guess
there was no story.

your voice sounded like a torrid
of gunfire and shells, breathing
an attack, attack attack




an irrevocable truthi.
snowflake child, you are a fine example
of the incandescence of a human light
even under innumerable umbras
i see you- ruby and blooming
ferociously fighting your way
out of a pile of rubble
ii.
my anemone, my halo
that comely wraps around my moon pith
do not fret if i self-stumble, fumble
with my fingers, and mumble to my toes
my center of gravity is oft frail and
meek to begin with
iii.
you are lead cause of the diamond flecks
scattering about the carbon of my pupils
you do not leave me
you teach me to be
snake-eyed yet shotgun-hearted-
a sapphire wanderlust livid
for life and star-gazing sights, you map
constellations on my freckles and fright  
iv.
look now at how i'll find my lighthouse lover
then tend to some kids
and grow out of my gills and into grey hairs
then tend to some kids with their own kids
and reminisce about friends and phenomena
i signed my name on a patch of sky with
all on my own except
that your hand never left mine
that if i were to crumble
like the sandcastle

if i were to crumble
like the sandcastle i am
i only need to lean back fearlessly, trusting
to find your spine resting there all the while




<da:thumb id="391754773"/>
In that moment I was flush,
over-ripe for the picking, aching
to be bitten, tasted,
devoured by a fresh mouth.




.i have learnt enough about gravity
to know that he can do what i can't, myself
snap my bones like twigs
underfoot, and
he says that beautiful things are
the easiest to break

he says that beautiful things are
the easiest to break





my friend smokes like she is allergic to plain air
but she smells like a fucking spring meadow, i know,
i’ve forgotten my nose in her hair a few times




why we're better now               back the way we came past
               yellow-eyed coyotes, two
               caustic anachronisms
               getting the hell out of
               our futuristic vineyard,
               expanses spilling oceans
               on my neck. I wanted something
               certain from you
               the heart attack
               I slept through
               now, my lips pulse;
               sanguine peaches making
               music of arrhythmic lace
               as you rupture in the sea:
               a wet throat blooming
               open in tessellations

sanguine peaches making
music of arrhythmic lace
as you rupture in the sea




8.12 The Perseids (Endings)I fell asleep without seeing The Perseids burn
across the pre-dawn sky. Instead, I orbited an
empty bed, knotted myself in the twist of the
sheets, and awoke to an early morning message
simply stating: I didn't miss it.
I wish I could believe.
Tonight I'll sit alone under the night sky, quietly
awaiting the thousand year prisoners' free-fall to
their death, whispering wishes in elegy.
--
8/12/2013
Copyright © 2013 Jen Fowler
All rights reserved

I orbited an
empty bed, knotted myself in the twist of the
sheets, and awoke to an early morning message
simply stating: I didn't miss it.

Fantastic Feature Tuesday #52

Wed Oct 2, 2013, 2:30 PM


Please :+fav: this article so it will reach a larger audience!

This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.

Just for funzies, all of today's features were found using the Undiscovered feature on the homepage.


 


 


pollenwasp-waisted beauty
pray into my collarbone
let your snake tongue slither
with the syllables.
i wish for soft-chested nights,
and the trickle of champagne down crystal glass.
poppy-lips, lull me to sleep,
nurse my coiling tongue with yours;
tap my scalp like a silent drum,
and wind my hair in between your fingers
like broken guitar strings.
(serenade me with the buzz of pollen in your kiss.)

poppy-lips, lull me to sleep,
nurse my coiling tongue with yours;

 

 


ambrosia tastes like freedomSpent half my pearls on a trip to the sea
    Drank milky clear liquor from the coconut tree
        (That something so simple could make something so sweet
            It never fails to astonish me)
When I fade away, a god I will be
    Sipping plain, unsweetened, and unadorned tea
        Feasting on coarse bread and unripened cheese
            Buried in carefree laughter up to my knees
because nectar tastes like coconut syrup
    and ambrosia tastes like freedom

Spent half my pearls on a trip to the sea
Drank milky clear liquor from the coconut tree

 


 

i don't think im alive enough to die yet.we used to play russian roulette on dingy street corners,
cigarettes hanging from soot-blackened lips
and morphine running rampant through our drugged up systems.
i remember how i was always shot.
you ran away when i didn't die
and left me to bleed out
onto the cold concrete.
but you don't understand-
dolls and wallflowers are empty inside,
and hearts constructed hastily with broken matchsticks
don't beat true. it's just dull thumping
in a hollow chest cavity.
(and even the best dentists can't fill this one up.)

dolls and wallflowers are empty inside,
and hearts constructed hastily with broken matchsticks
don't beat true




on little truths i search for ways to voice
little truths in words unspoken,
locked behind shy mouths and averted eyes

i search for ways to voice
little truths in words unspoken




Trapped~Trapped~
 
This pain is bound inside
like hatchling crows
scratching to break free
Their claws inside your belly
always tearing to find release
The tormented bundles
of feather, beak and bone
don't feel the pain that they inflict.
You do not feel the terror
in their black eyes
which look out-
only to be faced with darkness,
again and again.
The paradox of their trappings
is the core of their hell
living inside you.
The winged creatures
who will never fly
don't ponder the truth;
They know in this struggle
you will both surely die.

 The tormented bundles
of feather, beak and bone
don't feel the pain that they inflict





CCLXVIautumn dusk -
the ladybug's wings
not quite tucked away

autumn dusk -
the ladybug's wings
not quite tucked away




The Bloomersshe said my eyes are blue. truth is, i'm evergreen-
mad- blooming mad for weeds and lesser seeds- oh yes-
the ones that trample dainty, feeble flowers
to swallow up the sun, and sprawl their souls across
my garden-soil. someday, i say, they'll flourish-
my friends of ill repute. and maybe it's naive
to trust in thistled things- but not a waste,
and hope is never lost, only misplaced.

and maybe it's naive
to trust in thistled things- but not a waste,
and hope is never lost, only misplaced.




DemarcationYou ran your scalpel tongue from
hipbone to clavicle,
peeling me back like a banana skin
to find my insides brown and
rotting.
i desiccate while walking along the streets.
the words of men and women,
childhood friends and foes
slit red rivers in my flesh,
opening windows to the withering
i hide beneath it.
My heart is a desecrated temple,
full of false idols and headless deities.
Maggots crawl beneath my flesh,
reminders of the the day I died.
i do not call the monsters to me,
but they crawl to the surface
as the sun sets-
in the mask of darkness,
they lick the wounds they create,
gnashing their teeth,
wild-eyed.
it is after seeing their faces,
red and depraved,
sleep evades me for nights.
Vivisect my fleeting dreams,
courage flees in surreal cut-scenes.
I am Frankenstein's monster, reborn,
made of patchwork frailties and
papier-mache ribbons of flesh.
My beauty is only skin deep.
the creatures swim in murk
just beneath what you see,
promising in faint whispers
to burst in lashes of fi

in the mask of darkness,
they lick the wounds they create,
gnashing their teeth,
wild-eyed





Fantastic Feature Tuesday #51

Wed Sep 25, 2013, 9:52 AM


Please :+fav: this news article so it will reach a larger audience!

This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.




The Ground A Garden, My Body The Bouquetorchids:
wrapped my body in white strips. built myself a chrysalis of white flags. i give up. put on a grand smile, raised my hem line, lowered my voice. i will conform to your standards. leave my soul in a body bag to be thrown out with all the other 'different' 'broken' things. weave a cotton rope and tie myself down.
peonies:
after tripping over myself, once again i am decomposing. the flowers do not grow in my sagging, decayed hip sockets; the part of my body so loved and hated by myself. sockets the perfect size for tulip bulbs. their little roots clambering to anchor into the ground; so terrified of remaining floating in the wreckage.
heather:
there is a tiny cot in my aorta. doubt sleeping in quadruple stacked bunk-beds. snuggled together under down filled blankets, looking like a stack of worn out puppies. feeding on the little bit of love i'd saved for myself.
irises:
little pieces shipped to mailboxes. forgotten 'fragile' labels buried on counter-tops under bills that remain

the shivers of delight. warmth of embrace. the desire to give it all for one.
my body does. my soul it flies.




BloodhoundWound up tight,
old stones and
pre-breath memories.
remember clearly
where your feet had walked
before you woke?
i do, as glass
engulfed - jet black.
unwritten, eyeless -
hollow blanket sky.
but deep in water, prophets
smaller than could be -
faint lace of light,
too dim to be conceived.
at dinner, plates conveyed -
a spoon betwixt the cutlery
revived a time wracked dream.
in water - three years old -
i sunk below the breathless deep.
alone for silent moments, i was strong.
the growing dark was but a touch away -
i smiled, shook its hand, and said goodbye.
in water - three years old - i learned
how tender is the way death empties hearts.

the growing dark was but a touch away -
i smiled, shook its hand, and said goodbye.
in water - three years old - i learned
how tender is the way death empties hearts.




To fall down at your door.Where the past goes is
where I begin,
moments in time like
nightspirits,
particles of never, that
bleed, dissipate, collapse,
leading me home
after the rain,
after life,
to disappear forever.
I will go down with this ship,
leaving my dream
behind the stained glass
to follow the sun --
and I will find you,
or someone like you,
blankly staring at
a portrait of a dead man
(save me).

I will go down with this ship,
leaving my dream
behind the stained glass




you could read to me foreveryour vocal cords collapsed with
the heaviness of your words,
repeating the same exorcised
truth that you caught over the
phone when you moaned to me.
it took a thousand splendid suns
for us to see eye to eye, for you
to know why I weep over book
pages and not people and why 
i keep some stories tucked between
my alcoholism and faltering acid
trips. your voice and mine have
the same cadence and we're caught
in the ceasefire between our cords.
i've always been too exhausted, out
of my mind to tell that each
oscillation we've let our voices
take has been plucked better
than a million dancing beams.

it took a thousand splendid suns
for us to see eye to eye, for you
to know why I weep over book
pages and not people




An Hour for an HourIf I could contain the universe
in an hour, in a minute, in a room,
I’d fit it with mirrors, drape it in satin, drown it in champagne,
stuff it in pink crinoline, and set it up spinning.
Ours is a dizzy waltz of missed signals and broken dreams.
All those afternoons strutting about an eight hundred thread count queen,
holding court with flushed cheeks and sweaty palms.
“Courtesy please. Do not disturb.”
Oh, but who am I now, my darling?
An unwelcome guest, stealing away your sunset.
With no heart to call my own,
I’ve no use for your bedroom eyes or your nesting sighs
still echoing in the hollow thickets of my soul.
I hate to think of you there, tangled and bleeding,
a universe all your own.

I’d fit it with mirrors, drape it in satin, drown it in champagne,
stuff it in pink crinoline, and set it up spinning.




4due date passed, brains mould
away but i shrug it off
my shoulders and stroll life with
arrogance & royal titles.
these never-ending stories wear me out, wear
me to the bone, stone-cold. i shake
with apathy — do not
[dare to] look for days that never missed me.
sometimes mirrors stare back & i
shed my skin, triumphantly.

i shake
with apathy — do not
[dare to] look for days that never missed me.





then she writesI waited until the stars fell to the ground like snowflakes. There were little parallel shapes in the breaths I take.
                I must have smelled of sea sweat & leftover breaths of saltwater when I showed up. The sun bled through my hair.
I'm not a writer anymore. I throw words into a pile on the bed, & leap up & down. The fabric spreads, & I trace the pattern back to me, back to me, back to
the last time I saw me do something for myself.
I'm only guessing it's for my health. My shoulders are cold, & I walk through unfamiliar streets pressing buttons & pulling down my sleeves. Fold, release, expose, my
niche is an autumn rolling into my fresh, uprooted hands.
    I try to understand what it means to just be, to just live with
fingers spread out for the ones who love you, & it's been more beautiful than I could ever imagine.
           I am so undeserving of love, but it is enveloping me like letters imprinting perfect impressions of my freckles that leave me screaming.  

I try to understand what it means to just be, to just live with
fingers spread out for the ones who love you




Please :+fav: this news article so it will reach a larger audience!

This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.

But first - I owe a belated feature to beeinthebottle for catching my 20K pageview!

SpamalotIt began with a soliloquy, sotto voce, causality in action,
    straight,
        no chaser,
monstrous in its own fashion
 
like “Fuck” out of a baby’s mouth, a little Monty Python
                                                                               on the side,
 
 the scene where the peasant states “I’m not dead yet” or maybe the one with the parrot,
“he’s just sleeping”—
 
she whinged, bellyached for the Spam-A-Lot T-shirt
    
SlainteHe was blue—no, azure—
and I spied him on my table.
I caught him in the pint glass
I use to drink my beer.
I thought perhaps, at first,
I’d had a sip too many,
so I pinched myself; he quivered
and then began to speak.
His voice was gruff and low,
not what I was expecting.
No bigger than a thimble,
he made a doleful sound.
You’ve captured me, and now
I must give you half my kingdom:
five carpet squares, two skeins of yarn,
four footman dressed in red.

I bellowed in surprise
and knocked the pint glass over.
He scooted off; I never saw
the azure man again.
ConchI raise a glass to you,
my former lover,
caught up in the shell
of my current life
I don’t know how
to tell you I miss
who you used to
be to me,
the light in your eyes
when you saw me,
the shine of the sun
when you spoke
my name






In the Middle of the Mojavegarish colours in a sandbox
and the deep Carolina blue sky
that has seen all
arched its back overhead
and watched
as the current flicked out
and the beds of the pools started
drying
the yucca here are special
you cannot touch them
they feel like straw
they bend a little
and crinkle
the dust motes on the concrete land come from above
there is dust everywhere
dirt.
the parched concrete floor is white and
marbled with dust-banks
places where the wind
reached down to slow itself
as it careened through the
empty spaces.
you can see the gaps in between slabs
places dotted where foliage began to
soak through.
they are wrinkles.
filled with sixty year old dirt
and slips of straw.
there is quiet decay.
there are arcades
foam and sun falling through their ceilings
there are hanging signs waiting.
in the middle of nowhere
you cannot read them
aloud.

filled with sixty year old dirt
and slips of straw.
there is quiet decay.



comets in my head againThere are bruises on my legs again.
Maybe I tried too hard for the stars - struck hemispheres of dreaming too big - while I count one, two, three, four, five shiners on my legs, ten lookers on each arm (your jointed peals of rage) and, probably, forty-four on my heart – though it’s not like I ever counted the number of times you beat me down, before.
It never did matter if I was enough for the 16 years - or for the Escitalopram - because I was never a star jumper that could  trade in comets for the cratered, disfigured life of meteors.
There are bruises on my legs again, and I think I should stop dreaming.

I was never a star jumper that could 
trade in comets for the cratered, disfigured life of meteors.



FirearmI could tell you all about the crest and swell
Of passion on the dash, the jerking foxtrot trot
Of lips without an audience. Remember when
The road was void, and you were mad and fender-bent
Against the air, smuggler of memories? Me,
I can't recall this morning's breakfast, even as
The smell of tea is swarming in my senses,
As eager as an open-highway dawn.

Remember when
The road was void, and you were mad and fender-bent
Against the air, smuggler of memories?



Magic of Veniceyou swirl and twirl
  graciously
through an ocean
of human crowds,
faces hidden behind
golden facades,
  the joker's
cackling giggle
echoing from
  ear to ear,
  your body
sways from fiend
     to lover,
silk gown caressing
your body as boldy
as the devil's
  wild grin,
waves of hands push
  you closer
  to his reach,
his eyes behind the mask
undressing you with every move,
at last the vast sea
breaks and you crash
into his exploring arms,
fingers dance beneath
obscuring fabrics
  and lips decend
  upon your waiting
     mouth,
claiming your desire
you succumb without fight,
  forever lost to
  the magic that is
     venice.

silk gown caressing
your body as boldy as
the devil's
wild grin



<da:thumb id="387237243"/>
stumbling free from death's
jeering light and harmonies



open my eyesdead summer holds
an afternoon heat haunt
ghost in my periphery,
hello
chin to shoulder
to glimpse and--
left so soon?
or only the billowing 
white curtain cotton 
reaching into sunlit room
close, dying stars 
have such long
shining fingers

dying stars 
have such long
shining fingers

Fantastic Feature Tuesday #49

Tue Sep 10, 2013, 7:32 PM


Please +fav this news article so it will reach a larger audience!

This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.



Poem for the OceanCure me of this drought.
You have been known to call down the rain
and my forest fire-heart, heaving and sun-sparked,
needs the coolness of summer storms.
You are a sea; and I can do nothing but cling to your shores like sand,
hope to be swept off to the depths so I might understand them.
I am a knowable thing, clear and crisp;
the smell of pine forests, moonshine—
a distillation of all my youthful restlessness.
I want to run til I can drink the air like vodka,
clear and crystalline in my lungs.
My spirit is hungry, an Appalachian wendigo—
a wind eating its way across the Kentucky border,
carving great bites in the mountain flesh.
Though well-acquainted with the contours of lace,
often weaving its silky strings myself,
I am no spider, and your sea swell lace crests elude me.
I am no sea captain, cannot read your ocean currents
but the restlessness that sits beneath my lungs
and crawls its prickling way up my spine
makes me feel that I’ve never been better.
Though you

You are a sea; and I can do nothing but cling to your shores like sand,
hope to be swept off to the depths so I might understand them.



iii. - 2012how do birds die? she
watches, my
synthpop sweetheart
in yesterday’s t-shirt, with
my glass of cold tea
i just put the phone down
and we're sitting around
waiting for the takeout.
yesterday
was a lightning flash and my hair
reeks of singed
cigarettes, old linseed.
love
she fills the room
with her sonorous
immaculate self, and i
the hissing on the shore
washing out and in

yesterday
was a lightning flash and my hair
reeks of singed
cigarettes, old linseed.



lovesong for a blackholeI don't know what I am, but I feel the jungle
the plains of northern highlands
the song of the ocean disguised as voices I draw
the most primal notes, of
I don't know wherre I'm from, anymore, because I never cared
I know what I love, and connecting-the-dots could be compared
no return to oz, only a cannon for a sun
the day I reach my words like I mean to,
I'll publish a book. or a run.
until then, I'll keep practicing in nice little voids
like you or on da.
it's only a matter of time, now that I like the sound of my voice
I've seen some crazy shit on bestgore.something,
and I've only been there once
they're all smarter, than common, and the common are never suspecting
it wouldn't be the first time, of course,
and I guess everyone needs to be picky about who they drink, from
just some dots get connected, and play into misconceptions, of love
no absence; no absolution in this solar-system
the nebulae behind your eyes seems to sing
and our vernaculars grow to catch up
and our vernacular

the day I reach my words like I mean to,
I'll publish a book. or a run.



vernacular diminutiveswaddle my face in icepacks and
blistering thoughts of you. marinate in
the smell of north freo, the stinging,
industrial salt of the wharf and the
dark silty tang of the river. wander
through the soft, thick, honey-spill
of afternoon light wrapped around
streetlights, benches, hippies. watch a
man in a business suit pray to his gods
in a corner of a little green park, pressing
his forehead to the earth and bending
his spine so it arches like a song.
eat soft food that dissolves on my
tongue, and muse on every uncertainty.
hang my head low at the bitter
snow slush that is our pasts, and how
it sticks and numbs our nerves with cold.
be tied to my physical body, be
anchored around my aching mouth.
have my soul pulled out by brilliant and
chunky folk rock chords, with no ceremony
at all. throw lilting paper cranes from
my window to yours; do your brown
eyes soften? does it whisper
on the roughness of your palms?

throw lilting paper cranes from
my window to yours; do your brown
eyes soften? does it whisper
on the roughness of your palms?



you are my eyessince i met you i have fallen
for the way my fingers curl around a pen.
you told me once that my poems kept you breathing,
and if these pinkish branches keep your heart beating
then i love them and i love them
and i love them.
(you said my eyes were cornflower, forget-me-not,
blue jean shorts on a summer night.
you said my eyes were oceans, not for the blue
but because the sirens on my lashes
fell on your cheeks and sang to you.)
and my stomach has held a hundred moons
but you never told me that the blood i shed
was shameful,
even slumped on the floor when i cried in the night
you held me and told me not to be afraid,
you kissed my face and said that i was beautiful,
held my hand when my ribs became
good company, wouldn't let me count them
but fell asleep with your fingers just above the one we nicknamed
louie.
    knees knocking, i cried when he disappeared from view.
    you told me that he left like all good friends tend to do,
    that his absence said 'healthy' and that
    you th

my stomach has held a hundred moons
but you never told me that the blood i shed
was shameful




your body is made of stardust,and I traced lines across your limbs
fragile bone to fragile bone
you became the most beautiful constellation I know.
but the way you call me beautifully broken—
rose tinted glass, shattered plastic in a kaleidoscope
pretty, perhaps, but undoubtedly
broken
and how I call us fractured—
this bloody mess of words I’m tangled in
(no, this isn’t poetry)
I am a seamstress trying desperately to sew me back together
darling, in some form
we are star crossed lovers.

rose tinted glass, shattered plastic in a kaleidoscope
pretty, perhaps, but undoubtedly
broken



Memento MoriThis is my thesis:
I am a body of evidence.
Everything dies by the minute
and I am no different.
I feel the body breaking down,
the elastics that keep me together
fading, stretching to infinity.
Rub tea into my skin; preserve me.
Embog me. The world must know
the horrors that happen in suburbia,
unwanted thrusts, bashing of skulls.
A hot summer night emblazoned
with breakage. And each night
it steals more of me. Do not touch
or you will receive the poison,
the secondhand shock of rape.
Academia chases the pain away.
Bury myself in the chemical concoction
of concentration. If I read of others
I cannot think of myself. And at 2am,
when I am emptied of feeling, dead and cold,
I prepare. Analyze my wasted braids,
marvel at the preservation of victimization.
One day the world will think of me disembodied
but somehow hugely alive, centuries past.
We sink each minute, I watch us waste away,
and I think nothing but of taphonomy.
How to tell my story from the sea grave.

One day the world will think of me disembodied
but somehow hugely alive, centuries past.


Fantastic Feature Tuesday #48

Tue Sep 3, 2013, 7:27 PM


Please :+fav: this news article so it will reach a larger audience!

This is a weekly feature of amazing literature that I come by during my travels across deviantART. This is only a small sample of a vast amount of wonderful pieces of literature written by absolutely fantastic writers.

:new: No longer being picky about who to feature! Anyone and everyone is game, no matter how many times I've featured you before (though chances are, it's only once).


Battle for Pi(e)You: a mess, a wreck crumbling in unseen dirts.  It's silly - theories wriggling beneath squelches.  You, me, the desserts your hunger - or wasted love, eck, ick - absconds off.  Ah, sighing.  Offlimits today stoplessly on, selfsame enviable pies!
I, worriedly, suggest a pained challenge, ugh.  Dangerous.  Orderless.  You: obliged words I discontent… blech.  Keystone of unbelieved agonizing - eauuugh -pain, completed here!  Math, fruit, squealing an ill (deathesque) portent!
Desserts… I become envy.  

You, me, the desserts your hunger -
or wasted love, eck, ick - absconds off.



The BeachI
Sea-gulls glide into
a drifting forest
of brittle bones,
broken ships sinking in
apricots and slate-whites and saffrons,
the tusks of distant trees,
the flutes of water tribes.
II
Blue bubbles over
barnacle-splattered slabs,
a potion spilling
from a cauldron plastered with seaweed;
the concoction is mixed by
wind witches.
I stand on and see God's fingertips
scuttling across the coast,
bubbles sprint and then sigh
into macro-rivers and canals,
bleeding across pebble-glens
and leaving behind froth colonies.
In the distance,
aquatic dominoes fall
and craft salt tunnels
before they collapse into spray
and crawl up to shore.
Bobbing mountains sway,
a watery ziggurat,
a cradle of blue.
III
Octopus skin lies ragged on
the beach,
while an alien city
of apple green brains
sways in a solid wind below.
The green rainbow
curtains the beach.

I stand on and see God's fingertips
scuttling across the coast,
bubbles sprint and then sigh
into macro-rivers and canals



<da:thumb id="381417951"/>
then the penetration
of it all
flows, flows
cardinally--



poem for youi will let you lick the love
from behind my teeth.
i will tell you i do not speak
your language. i will give you
a new name so you do not
remember yourself & we will
communicate by our fingertips &
whole bodies. like dolphins
or beings who know something
about being conscious.
we are all a greater wonder.
i wonder if you know
about yourself, how you are
filled with so much light
like a wizard or a fire dancer.
when my eyebrows droop please
kiss me on the nose because kissing
is the greatest thing you could
ever do. the humblest & most perfect
act. the act of gods. did you ever think
our will is that everyone
start kissing & decline to stop.
i love you. it is so easy to love
if you are determined to do it.
i love you because you remind me of
all the amazing flowers.
i love your laughter loving butt.
i love you in the middle of watching
films at home, laughing over each other.
i love you when you roll your eyes at me.
i love you when you remind me of gods
in all their nakedness & brillia

it is so easy to love
if you are determined to do it.



I wish I were a writer.I wish I were a writer.
Transcendent rosy moonlight would fall from my lips. Not this damned spew of blue ink and charred feathers. I'll carry my sticks through with me. They're all I have. Each one knotted and scarred with my twisted melancholy memories. A starving artist, penniless poet. No chance. I remember the time I opened the gilt gold cage. I have no desire for birds, but birds desire the wind the clouds desire birds. They laugh as the clouds fail to catch them. The fat ruby stared, starred, crusted. All I need is the night, sat dulcet on a frosty park bench, the glittering of morn guiding my hands to weave dusky, fine yarns of words. I long for romance. Everyone loves a writer, don't they?

I have no desire for birds,
but birds desire the wind the clouds desire birds.




earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes



try to catch my 20K pageview? I'll throw in a feature if you send me a screenshot. Or some other (free) gift of your choosing :D But really, the shits and giggles should be enough incentive.

In case you give a crap about my real life, school starts next Tuesday and I have orientation tomorrow! I am somewhat busy making fun plans for InspireTheUninspired, which will be announced this weekend, so keep an eye out if you're a member. And if you're not, well what are you waiting for? Other than that (and lurking around reading journals), I've been extremely inactive here for the past few weeks and I'm sorry that I've left your deviations and comments to rot in my inbox :( I really hope that I can get a good head start on that before school starts. Also, I plan on reinstating FFT next week. In theory. I will make it happen!

Also, I recently placed second in LadyLincoln's Self Improvement Contest, which was a lovely surprise. I am now premium membershipped (yes I made that a verb) for a very, very long time.

Speaking of long times, it's also been a while since I wrote something. I have a few lines floating around in my head (or rather, my sta.sh) but I wouldn't expect to see anything from me for a while. *sighs*



Anyone else starting school soon? If so, what are you studying?
  • Mood: Cheerful
  • Reading: The River of No Return - Bee Ridgeway
  • Watching: House
all the way alivethe things i would do to you
if i didn't like you as a person,
if i didn't hang myself
from the strings of your guitar,
this has gone on so long
without going anywhere,
and you abandon yourself
to the humming and i am watching you
and it is beautiful
the way your tongue slips between your teeth
and that smile never leaves your face,
i want you with the lights off
and red everywhere because metals
are not morbid and
every damn person on earth
is your friend
i write poems
in the gasoline rainbows, i write poems
on the walls
of the basement shows,
and you are something
i can't explain in words, honestly,
i am lost
in your limbs,
and baby,
i don't want to get out
i might doom myself
to a life of sharp inhales
at the drop of a beat
and i will find you, every time, in the same way
the line was drawn
with you on one side and me in the middle,
and the grass in between us is burning,
in flames
Carpe DiemTell me again:
I want to hear about
the colours you carry
beneath your skin
and the way your parents betrayed
the promise nested
in your chest.
Tell me again that brokenness
skips a generation in your family-
that you are made whole
once the old generation passes,
and the way your mother decays
is an assurance
blessing you.
Tell me again that oaths sworn
will protect you
and the ways you've fallen,
a flattened souffle,
will stay secret--
when the evening breaks
and washes you clean,
still you will wear your sins.
Tell me again
and live anyway.
not on patriotism'god bless america'
that's all you said
with your head between
my legs when you slipped
between the skimpy flag and
me. i think i'm a different
kind of soldier, one of tonic
brains and scanty culture. believe
in me as hard as you grip my shoulders.
believe in me as hard as all the ways
we drift and smolder. you say
you've got no rhythm but i'm keeping
count with the way your tongue whips
around and a 1 and a 2 and a 3 and a
no more, no more, please no more-
lay your head on my chest, daddy
lay your worries to rest, you can
count on us being madly laid to
rust in fifty years but until then
we are kings and queens of
sex and harmony.
how to be a starving mani told him,
you have to
love a starving
woman, the kind
who feeds on
the way you
move and words
you speak, the
kind who has
forgotton she exists,
sometimes, but is
still achingly aware
of how she
does exist. i
told him, you
probably would love
her more than
you think. i
told him, she
loves you even
more than that.
phantom fingersthese bones
are haunted.
there's a clitter-clatter 
drip-drop 
whirl of a girl with limbs 
like chopsticks 
and she speaks in boxes
her bones clap like an audience
as she grinds her shoulders
and wiggles her fingers
and plays prelude in e minor
for the whole wide world to hear
(she doesn't even really like the song.
she just likes the way the composer's name
sounds in her mouth.)
chopin.
ghosts slide underneath her nail beds
her bloody, bleeding, bitten nail beds
and when she goes to sleep at night
they crawl out and tangle themselves
right between her shoulder blades 
and round her rib cage
and embed themselves in everything 
she had ever grown to love.
"these bones are haunted,"
she mutters to herself 
as she combs poltergeists 
and demons out of her hair,
"these bones are haunted
and there is
nothing you can do."
Off Dean Street, On Harry.He reminds you of the Autumn
after Summer never came.
Off Dean St. and on Harry.
Harry O' you can't spell
his pseudonym. All that
sanitised insanity, in too deep,
in-depth profanity, faux
vitamin vitality. Our life
long catastrophies.
Indian ink and more substance
to the fantasy. All you need
to etcha-sketch
someone into your reality. So
what's in a name?
Love worn like his ill-fitting shirt.
Love like forgotten house keys
When you know you're locked out
but scrabble and claw
desperately hoping to find them.
Love like watching fruit hit
with a hammer in slow motion.
Implode to explode.
He tells you
we're an anomaly and that ours
is the inexperienced,angry
love meant for the elderly.
if raptors could rule the world againII. she's stretching golden as a lion in the late afternoon sun on this soft sweet grass and i'm not remembering his smirk from years ago when we first met with stains on my knees. i'm too busy enjoying the panther length of her spine carving out the timid sky that blushes over her glory. she's looking at me with that smile bright in her gaze as if there aren't a crowd of people around us vying for her attention.
IV. she starts laughing for no reason as we're sitting in the dim bar and she sputters out one word and now i understand and i'm laughing just as hard with her, tears glittering down our cheeks, and our friends are asking us what the fuck we're laughing at, but they'll never understand, because they weren't there for raspberries and cigarettes and a jar of marbles. she's buying me a beer and they're glaring and we're caught up and i'm wondering if i really only fall in love when i laugh.
III. i'm falling asleep alone in my bed with songs of bambi eyes wisping through my almost
A Misconstrued EmancipationIt is in the fantastical flight
of a thousand pristine paper cranes,
soaring across a crescent moon,
orange and violet-blue-skied afternoon;
an orgasmic origami frenzy, that is
how I always believed our amour,
were it incarnate in a make-believe
world, would substantiate as.
This, this is nothing- we are nothing
but an almost accomplished, suddenly
rain-trampled and tear-torn script
of what we were supposed to be;
that of what we will always be in
each others' recollections-
reckless, hope-filled and heartfelt,
yet never meant to come full-circle.
It is in the whimpering of a wounded
woodland critter, knowing its sobs
are but in vain; daybreak and
the shadow of death cannot come
soon enough to stow away its life-
our life, or at least, that is how
it is ingrained in my ever present,
haunting memories.
Night Lessyour sleeves drip
reflected constellations
into pools on this rooftop garage
yellow lines between
our feet make the
imposter stars whiter
i will the parking spaces to
narrow.
or for this separation to mean less to me
White StairwellsI
Receding birdcalls of a corner stairwell.
Sullen pipes heaving upward on metal elbows, dim vines.
Contained in surreal submarine-portholes,
The foliage outside stirs the air and shutters the white sun,
Run-down old shack with its generator quietly spinning,
Open windows feeding these shelves lizard excrement.
I remember how we met, how calmly.
II
Three months of anticipation in classrooms end.
One hundred people filling in a lonely theatre.
The chronic fidgeting grows worse.
The fat pigeons overreact at crumbs and lever their wings, so happy.
Aggravated teachers shout passively at students with their eyes
during the assembly. ORDER. Some necks are getting too
scratchy and hot under the ties. SILENCE.
III
My future has never departed from this institution.  
I anticipated your arrival as feet stepping off an airline do.
This afternoon you dyed your hair, falling through the years,
I no longer bring myself to believe in the staying power of warmth.
Graduation, dear graduation, swe
Mariana (Deepest Place)I've come to know the broken in the earth
the ways that people pour themselves
in bathtubs, matrimony
corners of their front lawns
broken bottles of Old English
blizzards, wastes, and chemicals
but you are
pearl in the oyster
the thousand books I wrote while dreaming
sweeter than the air under trees
you're the full glass - dripping
water from a mountain spring
my heart in you is prism
painted growth
washed through by the oceans in your eyes
though dimly lit the room
I've come
and you will brighten shorelines
pour your days out free
and breathe
and I will lay your fears beneath the sea
take you somewhere you can choose to speak
Puffer-passion-fishIn coral caves
when sea anemones
brushed with
tropical eggs
of sweet,
I watched (in taststebuds)
the tang of tadpoles
cascade,
In cerise carcasses
of puffer-passion-fish,
that carmine clash
leaves lasting eel stings;
it pulses  
across tongues.




this is not a regular feature (it not being tuesday after all..) but these are all some recent favorites of mine that I wanted to share. Still can't decide what I want to do about the features, I'm pretty sure I'd end up featuring the same people over and over if I take out the one-time-only rule. gah.

In other news, itching for school to start, slowly going through my inbox, and I need to read The Great Gatsby. But I gotta finish this other book first. And I have to go clean this chicken...


Tell me a random fact about yourself.

Your real name: Julia
Age: 19
Height: 5"1 (actually, more like five feet and three quarters of an inch, but don't tell anyone)
Natural hair colour:  brown
Eye colour: brown
Skin color: umm I'm kind of tanned right now but usually pale
Glasses/contacts?: glasses yeeeh
Piercings: on my ears, but they're pretty much closed.
Tattoos: no thank you
Braces: for four years. i still wear my retainer :3
Mannerisms: playing with my hair, cracking my knuckles (terrible, I know), blushing (it's a daily occurrence). is eating a mannerism?
Other distinctive markings: i have a mole on my chin. also four moles on my wrist that make a trapezoid if you connect the dots. i have a lot of moles.


FAVOURITE
Colour: green or blue or purple or um.. all the colors?
Band: no
Video game: yoshi's island..... yep
Movie: idunnoooooo
Book: since i can't pick one:  Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, The Blondes, Let the Great World Spin, The Kite Runner
Food: sushi. chinese. tacos.
Game on a cell phone: lol my cell only has texas hold'em and brickbreaker but on my ipod i like fruit ninja and no i do not like angry birds
CD: lolwat do i even own a CD
Flower: morning glory
Scent: anything but fucking vanilla oh my god
Animal: cats! sloths are cute.
Comic book or manga: the sailor moon manga is actually really good. and i like death note. i haven't read much else really.
Cereal: don't eat it

Website: deviantart! i'm on facebook just as often but that doesn't mean I like it haha
Cartoon: duh, spongebob


DO YOU
Play an instrument?: flute. i also taught myself to play alto sax but i sucked and i don't actually own one so yeah
Watch TV more than 60 hours a week?: LOL no? that's like 8 hours a day, you'd have to spend every single moment you're not asleep or at school watching tv..
Like to sing?: yes, but only if no one's listening ^^; i'm really bad
Have a job?: ONE DAY
Have a cell phone?:  oui
Like to play sports?: noooooo sir
Have a boyfriend/girlfriend?: yes :love:
Have a crush on someone?: see above
Live somewhere NOT in the united states?: why yes! that's such a bizarre question. why not just ask me where I live? not everyone lives in the states you know..
Have more than 5 TVs in your house?: err *counts* nope, three. only two are actually used though lol
Have any special talents/skills?: if you asked my mom, she'd go on about how I'm a perfect blend of arts (poetry, photography, flute) and science (i heart math) but ummmm if you ask me, no.
Exercise daily?: fuck that
Like school?: yes! well actually I don't know yet because I'm starting uni in a month but in general yes.

CAN YOU
Sing the alphabet backwards?:
i can't sing it, but i can recite it
Stand on your tip toes without wearing shoes?: yes? or did you mean like ON my toes, because no.
Speak any other languages?: <span class="">tabernacle, man. </span>
Go a day without food?: yeah, fasting for religious reasons (also that previous answer was french in case you didn't know)
Remember your dreams: only the really interesting ones where i go on magical adventures
Read music, not just tabs?:  ben oui
Roll your tongue?: yes
Eat a whole pizza?: ack no


HAVE YOU EVER
Won something in the lottery?: never even entered
Snuck out of the house?:  i think? once i went for a walk at like 11PM (also I was like twelve) but everyone was asleep so I didn't exactly sneak I kind of just walked out the door you know
Lied to get out of trouble?:  yes
Had a computer crash?:  my precious blue screen of death
Gotten lost in your city?: probably
Seen a shooting star?:  no :(
Been to any other countries?:  USA, Cuba, Turks and Caicos.... yep
Had a serious surgery?: nope
Stolen something important to someone else?: nah
Solved a rubiks cube?: no
Gone out in public in your pajamas?: pajama day? also i go outside in my pajamas to check the weather all the time. also to take out the garbage
Cried over a girl?: probably
Cried over a boy?: definitely
Kissed a random stranger?: nooo
Hugged a random stranger?: nooo.. maybe?
Been in a fist fight?: no lol
Been arrested?: no
Done drugs?: i'm such a goody two shoes.................
Had alcohol?: oui
Laughed and had milk come out of your nose?: no, thank god lol
Pushed all the buttons on an elevator?: yup last week LOL
Sneaked into the opposite sex's bathroom?: yes, and I was terrified someone was going to walk in lol
Gone to school only to find you had the day off because of a holiday/etc?: no
Swore at your parents?: yessss. not so much anymore. but now that my sister and i are older, we all kind of swear casually in front of each other. makes you feel like you're with friends.
Kicked a guy where it hurts?: no haha tried to though
Been to a casino?: yes, and I found 10$ on the floor! :D i also won 75 cents which i proceeded to spend
Ran over an animal and killed it?: no D:
Broken a bone?: no
Gotten stitches?: no
Had a water balloon fight in winter?: no. that's what snow is for, jeez
Made homemade muffins?: cupcakes, yes
Bitten someone?: umm yes actually though I can't remember who
Been to disneyland/disneyworld?: several times!
Burped in someone's face?: no, i have manners XD


WHENS THE LAST TIME YOU
Brushed your teeth: this morning
Cried: not sure but probably at a movie lol
Went to the bathroom: why can i not remember..
Saw a movie in a theatre: the great gatsby yesterday
Read a book: currently.... this quiz is not made for non-americans, huh.
Had a snow day: at least two years. college does not do snow days.
Had a party: errrr
Went to a doctor: last week
Tripped in front of someone: probably sometime this weekend
Went to the grocery store: couple weeks?
Got sick: last night oops
Got cursed: umm by who, a gypsy?
Called someone: thursday


DO YOU PREFER
Fruit/vegetables: fruit
Black/white: black
Lights on/lights off: ofn
TV/movie: tv
Body spray/lotion: anything that doesn't smell like vanilla!
Cash/cheque: cheque, that way I'll put it in the bank and not spend it :D
Pillows/blankets: depends D:
Headache/stomach ache: headache.. i get enough stomach aches >.>
Paint/charcoal: paint seems easier
Chinese food/Mexican food: chinese

Summer/winter: winter
Snow/rain: snow
Fog/misty: errrrr mist? is there really a difference?
Rock/rap: rock. classic rock.
Meat/vegetarian: meaaaaaaaat omnomnom
Chocolate/vanilla: vanilla. (ok shh I know I've said I hate the smell of vanilla but that's like artificial body lotion crap I'm talking about food here)
Sprinkles/icing: sprinkles
Cake/pie: I don't want to get in trouble with anybody for answering this.. =P
Strawberries/blueberries: blueberries
Ocean/swimming pool: ocean
Cookies/muffins: cookies
Wallet/pocket: wallet because then all my money would get scattered among all my pants. happens with my elastics and bobby pins..
Window/door: are you asking me how I prefer to make an escape or a break-in?
Charlie Chaplin/Chespirito: who is chespirito
Pink/purple: purple
Cat/dog: cat
Long sleeve/short sleeve: depends on the weather, but at least short sleeves can be paired with a sweater in winter
Pants/shorts: again, depends, but i guess pants
Winter break/spring break: spring, it's more of an uber-long weekend than anything.
Spring/autumn: autumn
Clouds/clear sky: half n half!
Moon/mars: i doubt any of you could actually identify mars in the sky lol
Questions/Answers: i ask a lot of questions.
War/Peace: peace


LOVE AND ALL THAT CRAP
Do you believe in love?: yes
What's the most important kind of love for you?: friends and family. romantic is really important too, but it's not necessary to have a healthy lifestyle. better to be surrounded by family and friends than to have a husband/wife and nobody else, right?
Have you ever been in love?: yes
Been close to love?: ... see above?
If you have, with who?: are you asking about the in love, or close to love? ;)
Ever confessed your feelings to the one you loved?: that is why we are dating, yes
Really badly so that it actually hurts and you cry at night?: i don't really understand this question?
Are you in a relationship?: didn't we cover this already
If so, for how long?: a bit over two years
Do you believe there is someone for everyone?: no. lots of people never marry. you could say that maybe they're not looking hard enough, but marriage/relationships aren't for everyone.
What is your idea of the best date?: honestly, a couch, blanket and movie is good enough for me. but only because my relationship is that comfortable and personal
What was your first kiss like?: it was...... weird. i was fourteen and at camp. we had stayed a bit longer at the waterfront than everyone else so we walked back together all the way to this little open building at the very back of the camp, and then we just stood there and kissed? i had to take my glasses off because they were knocking on his but hey at least nothing bad happened with our braces.. oh god XD i dunno, it wasn't a bad kiss, but a bit awkward
How old were you when you got your first kiss?: SEE ABOVE
Do you think love is worth nothing?: love is worth a lot.
Best experience you've ever had with the opposite sex: i can't really pick one... what kind of experience is this anyway >.>
If you are single, have you had any boyfriends/girlfriends before?: how do i answer this.. well yes i have had two previously, but i am not single, so...
Have you ever been dumped?: that guy with the first kiss, he dumped my via facebook. through our mutual friend. BAM.

Have you ever dumped someone?: yes, though i wouldn't call it a dump. more like a sorry this isn't working out type of thing.


I...
Am: tired
Want: a peach or an orange, they're really good
Need: to start getting ready to go out for dinner, woops
Love: chocolate
Hate: THE SMELL OF VANILLA lol
Feel: sore. don't ask why ;)
Did: try to help my dad hang up that 30 pound mirror, but we were kidding ourselves..
Miss: my friendsssss
Am annoyed at: nothing really
Would rather: be finished with this quiz
Am tired of: this summer. SCHOOL, COME AT ME BRO
Will always: crave popcorn D:


MISCELLANEOUS
What is your favourite genre of music?: idunno, it's easier to tell you what I don't like
What time is it now?: 5:51 PM
How much money do you have right now?: none of yor beezwax
Are you hungry right now?: a little
What are you doing right now?: what do you think
Do you like parades?: sure. i don't really go to any, but i've been in a couple.
Do you like the moon?: sure? i prefer looking for constellations
What are you going to do when you're done with this?: be very very relieved
If you could have any magical power what would it be?: good quuestion...........flying, because that looks fun, or being invisible, because then i could hide from all the annoying people in my life lol

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE
Funny?: i think so, and people do laugh at my jokes, but that doesn't necessarily make me funny. silly, definitely.
Cool?: eh
Pretty?: a little, if I smile and do my hair
Sarcastic?: yep
Lazy?: YEP
Hyper?: occasionally
Friendly?: if i know you. if not, then i'm too shy to seem friendly lol
Evil?: no
Unforgettable? meh i'm pretty average so
Smart?: i certainly hope so
Strong?: physically? heck no. mentally? i think so.
Talented?: idkman
Dorky?: haha yeah

WHAT COMES TO MIND WITH THE WORD
High: school
Lonely: fools
Pen: is
Flower: power
Window: washer?
Psycho: analysus
Brain freeze: slushy
Strange: r danger!
Sassy: sally
Suffering: silence
Art: useless ("all art is useless" said oscar wilde)
WOULD YOU EVER
Sky dive?: err maybe
Run away?: i'm a little old for that. elope? maybe ;)
Curse at a teacher?: nah, maybe behind their back.
Not take a shower for a week?: ew
Ask someone out?: not with the current state of things, but theoretically yes, though i'm terribly shy..
Unscrew your cellphone to see what's inside?: what for, i know what;s inside
Lie to someone to make them think better of you?: maybe a teeny teeny one, like exaggerate about something that's already true
Visit a foreign country for more than a month?: sure, but i'd prefer to visit several over that month :P
Go scuba diving?: i went snorkeling in Grand Turk!
Write a book?: probablhy not
Assemble a computer?: uhhh if the situation called for it?
Become a rock star?: no lol
Have a long-distance relationship?: only if the relationship started normally but one had to leave. i would never have an online relationship with someone i never met
Marry someone you don't know?: no..

LAST QUESTIONS ( FINALLY ) 
What kind of computer do you have?: FINALLY! acer laptop
What grade/level of studies are you in? starting first year of uni woooooo
Do you like to throw popcorn at people in the movies?: i'll try it out and let you know
How many posters do you have in your room?: zero. i have a print of these big red flowers, and my own photographs, but that's it. i want to buy another print, maybe from deviantart.
Who else should take this quiz?: nobody fml that was long


if you actually read all that, pick a question from the above and tell me your answer
  • Mood: Relief
  • Reading: The River of No Return
EDIT
I have returned! I had a great two weeks and I can't wait to tell you guys all about it but I'm going to wait until I get my pictures developed (so about a month, since I'm lazy and I do still have two pictures left on the roll...) so that you can see what I'm talking about. The ports were beautiful, the buffets were never ending (but somehow I have gained no weight?) and the pool was saltwater (why?) but still very nice, and we went to comedy shows almost every night, which was definitely one of my favorite parts of this trip. The itchy burn on my back gets first place. Ciao!



Hello! Just letting you guys know that I'll be away on vacation for the next two weeks. My family and I are leaving tomorrow morning at 4AM (WOOT) for Florida, where we'll spend a few days in Delray Beach before driving down to Miami and hopping on a cruise! :party: I'm pretty excited, though not entirely looking forward to being stuck with my parents and sister 24/7, but I'll live. Nor am I excited to die of heat (which I'm already doing here in Canada of all places, right?)...

Anyway, I've got less than twelve hours to finish packing and hopefully get a few hours of shut-eye, so farewell! I'll have close to no internet access during the trip but I may pop in and answer any messages if I can.

:wave: Bon voyage to me...
  • Mood: Tired
  • Reading: The Alchemist - Paulo Coelho
  • Drinking: Coffee