Neatly, like Modern Art

I wanted to be gone
when you came back
wanted to be unavailable
when you called
wanted one thousand ways
to burn you
To pierce you to the quick
until you withered away

I wanted my actions
to spell out revenge
neatly, like modern art
yellow letters on blue sky
to have kissed ten men
or even one or two
to have hate-laughed my way
out of loving you

I wanted to destroy
to feel restless again
slinking and taut
in my own skin
to ease the mask of apathy
let the darkness out
I wanted to whisper
sordid details in your ear

I wanted to be
so many things
heartless, merciless
in the arms of another
when you came back
I would have iron walls
with no gates
would trick you then flick you
out of an embrace

But I forgot love
love is careless and unashamed
frivolous and stubborn
it will not die in winter
it urges me to
set myself aflame
to keep you warm
to stay and not stray

So it's a heaven-sent blessing
that I am deaf and blind
my tongue is leaden
my breath cold and weak
when you come to me
flippant or repentant
bleeding or proud
it will not be long

it will not be long
until you bow your head
before you kneel
crumbling like a weary statue
with snow warping your hands
as you watch me
walk away
swift with the current.

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~

Acquaintances and Paramours

Some people have all the luck. And all the love.
The Anonymous Lovelorn Gift-Giver...

And now, a letter.
Dear Anonymous Lovelorn Gift-Giver,
Why did you not sell your ring? Why did you not give it to me, or, if you are a financially stable man, come find me and date me and buy me lots of pretty things or maybe just pay for me to get an apartment and my maybe future tuiton? *Ahem* I mean, do not fear! Someone will love you! *Call me*
LOVE,
Paramour Mandala

Temporary Soundtrack: Patapan, a traditional French carol.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "Forty drunken Santas rampaged through central Auckland..." More Here...
What I Learned Today: "Emily, a one-year-old tabby cat from the US state of Wisconsin, strayed into an air cargo container and before she knew it she was being unloaded in the eastern French city of Nancy. Unharmed, she was flown back in style." - From Yahoo's Odd News of 2005.

Dark-king, Light-king, Queens All

Back when two pawns
barely fit in my palm
I believed patterns
ruled the chess board

that the goal was to
mix black and white
find a home for gray
Until my men lived

in your land and yours
put down roots in mine.
Leave the royal scepters and
poison decanters behind!

The rooks will form bridges
stolid and un-burnable
interlace their bricks and
form open-faced windows

Knights will practice with
jousts of wooden swords
clasping arms in friendly combat
twirling pennants of dark and light

Bishops will gossip -
as old men pretend not to do -
whispering their robes and
flashing gold-strewn hands

Queens will share a giggle
trade recipes and ermine cloaks
weave stories and hair into plaits
let their pawns play together

And the kings, O the kings!
They will sprawl unceremoniously
in front of their thrones
Discuss geography, banquets,

jesters and favorite dogs
Lift the heavy crowns
off their bowed heads
and be men for the while

Colors will be strewn about
the patchwork earth will move
all the world that they know
will breathe a sigh and say

'Assassination
of the emperors be damned.
This is truly
the game of kings.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

¡Y mucho más! <-- Even More Poems

Letting Go of the Line

Western culture believes life is to be lived forward, with one hand kept to the straight line of time. Every second in time is created at the precise moment it occurs. There is no such thing as a future that exists ahead of the present. There is also no way to retrace your steps into the past. A glass wall that presses at your back lets memories be displayed without letting travellers mar the annals of history.

On Saturday afternoon, H. called. His period of sorting things out and getting his life back on track is over. He, obviously, wants us to get back together...realized during our time apart that he loves me more than ever, etc. I bluntly told him that I want to pursue my dreams, to become a game designer or possibly animator, and that the former was only possible in the U.S. (or, possibly, Canada or the U.K.). Certainly, game design programs of study are only available in select cities in the U.S. I told him he would have to leave his country, come here, and work or study here. That is the only way I would even consider getting back together with him - on my terms.

I called him back on Sunday (during the hour-and-a-half free time I had, though it only took twenty minutes) and read his e-mail at his request. In such, he unexpectedly promised to leave it all behind (once done with his studies at the Institute, which would be after another semester) and come to the U.S. to be with me. Ends of the earth, blah blah blah. I did not accept that, and told him I would only consider it if X, not Y, for his good as well as mine (I do not want to get into it all on this blog). Agreed to see him online on Thursday.

Now the fate would seem to rest in my hands. Do I move forward, eyes stoically trained on the blank desert before me? Feeling my way as the rope forms beneath my hands? Or do I let go of the line?

Dan and I had a wonderful time at Revels yesterday - more on that later.

Temporary Soundtrack: "Blue Sky Blue" <-- searching for the artist. Heard on WFDU on Saturday afternoon, 10th Dec. 2005, on I believe a program called "Carnival of Song."
Quote Trapped in My Head: Mixed up quotes from TDIR series, "Come live with me and be my love", and a few Revels songs.
What I Learned Today: Well, yesterday, actually. What Christmas Revels really entail. Mummers' plays, music, dance, and stories, and lots of fun! Thanks, Dan!

Now it is, then.

I think this might be the time
when I gently let my hand fall
from your strong, warm grip
and walk smoothly on ahead

I think this might be the place
along this winding, uphill path
where I pull my waist away
run laughing into the woods
and don't glance back

I think this might be the way
my journey with you needs to end
I drift away on swift currents
play mistress to the caprice
of eddies and ripples that shy
away from you

Now the hero must tell his beloved
"this fight is mine to win,
this task mine to finish."

Now the wilds beckon
the forest calls
the water sings
the heavens reach down
embrace me and carry me
away from you

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~
Shh...a rare Antibacchus anadiplosis, hardly ever seen in the wild. <-- More Poetry

Alpha Zeta

A - Did Perseus rescue Andromeda, just to
spread her legs across the heavens,
sweat glistening as pinprick-lights on her thighs?

B - The original breast for a lullaby,
the smooth curves that come
with the onslaught of pregnancy.

C - So eager to please, if you please it,
yet giving while it takes, teasing caresses and
coaxing blushes from its prey.

D - An aging bachelor, just fed,
too sexless or proud
to hold his bulging stomach in.

E - My darling, amputated octopus,
a kiss waiting on each desperate arm.
Love will never touch its beak-flanked lips.

F - A falcon's frail-seeming claw
strikes both clouds and flesh
with the sharpest of blades.

G - The unforgiving hook dangling
from an angler-fish's forehead:
its camouflaged gullet swallows me hole.

H - Spider monkey skitters up
ready to set fire
burning his last bridge.

I - All sharp edges, this letter
will slice me, leaving me bereft,
my only friend a dull-blade infection.

J - Dragonfly in heat, fighting for purchase
on the slippery walls of this rocking canoe,
dipping its toes in the ripples.

K - Little girl lost drops her hairbow
left in the gutter because
it doesn't go with eyeshadow.

L - Rain over the waterfall
reborn in white foam, to the surface:
a daily death can't drown you.

M - Two children clasp hands, unwavering
even at first light, pillars stand
before the gate to the big, bad world.

N - There is a tunnel between you and God;
only if you kiss his feet
will it take you to him.

O - The moon when it inhales
breaks the perfection
of one immutable radius.

P - The veteran leans on his cane;
he still leaves a place
for his phantom leg to stand.

Q - Grandfather time has lost
his sharp hands to sleep
they prod his weary feet.

R - A pair of lovers dance the tango,
one stiletto-clad foot
drawing scars on the hardwood floor.

S - Come and go, hither and yon,
forge ahead and recoil sharp
dithering like a sidewinder's path.

T - Nature's most rigid tree,
manufactured by architects, eschewing circles
and roses for the comfort of spines.

U - Rib shapes flesh
skin caresses bone
the skeleton jitters home.

V - Aries lowered his horns only after
both sides of this bloody war
had died for such a peace.

W - Venomous, two-headed snake,
starving yourself for your pride,
both mouths refusing to become a tail.

X - The valley admires its reflection
just like an overconfident man
it sees itself as a mountain.

Y - The evenly split chambers
of a frog's tepid heart, fresh from
pond-splashing and courting the night.

Z - Here is the body bent in death
blank eyes staring at the angle of hell
meeting with that of heaven.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'll take a large pastiche to go, please? <-- More Fun with Rhymes

I had a dream last night...and it fit me like a glove...

For the past two nights, I've had disturbing dreams, mostly for the reason that I am so accepting of my fate in these dreams. Kind of horror movie-esque, really, mixed with ghost stories. So, I don't remember what Tuesday night's frightfest entailed, but last night, I was on a trip. I was with three blonde girls, who packed their things. We went away somewhere, maybe somewhere warm, and minor drama ensued. I remember watching us from above, staring at the half-circle of the four of us standing around our bags, heads bowed. The girls were each different, and I knew one of them well, but I can't recall names, and they are certainly not real people I know. We went to a sort of between-flight place on our way elsewhere, which morphed into my back porch. The first 'night' we stayed there, the girls and I were outside when creepy, pale zombie-ghosts came up to us and tried to touch us to do who knows what. We bolted back inside and the things were gone. Then it was the next 'night' and our bags were left outside. How did I know it was a different night? It's a dream. I wanted to get our things, because there was a man that came leaping acrobatically from one end of the porch to the other. I had something dental hygiene related in my mouth that prevented me from speaking or making much noise; it had been there for a while. I waited until he was gone, then opened the heavy glass door, went to get the things, until I saw him, in his red-and-black clothes, come running at me from the woods. I ran for the door, couldn't get it open, tried to yell, but I couldn't get breath or sound to come out. He grabbed me,then was startled by some loud noise off screen. I was able to open the door and draw it closed while he was distracted, but he pounded on it once he saw it was shut. The other girls were either asleep or uncaring. And our stuff stayed outside.

Then it was magically midday, the way only dreams and edited film can be. There was some enormous sort of celebration at a field to the upper left of our porch. Fire-eaters, teams playing games, my dad suddenly there watching it all. Our cooler to take on our trip was out there, and people were taking from it, that much I remember. I was upset, but Dad said we could always restock. It was the idea of thievery that bothered me more than anything, I'm sure. Anyway, night fell, and I was outside getting something, when one more zombie-ghost came up. It was Jodie Foster.

Yes, Jodie Foster. Her eyes were wide, her skin pale, her hair medium-brown and tied half-up half-down. HEr face was either decaying or scarred near her hairline and on her cheek. She wore a dark robe or dress. She gripped my arm, fighting back vomit or possibly trying to catch enough afterlife-breath to speak. Then I realized two things:
1. They were trying to communicate with us, tell us something essential.
2. Her hand was warm on my arm.
She finally got her mouth open, started to speak-
-There was a loud buzz. My phone getting a text message. I woke up, realized it was 8:58 and my CD alarm clock despises me, and proceeded to rush around to get to work.

Lovely, yes-no?

Temporary Soundtrack: Well, obviously, I Had a Dream from TBS.
Quote Trapped in My Head: Chomh sean leis an cheo agus níos sine faoi dhó.
What I Learned Today: Nollaig means 'December' (or 'Christmas') in Irish Gaelic.

Knowing

It would, of course, happen at night. Pandora and Hera could be found, as always, relaxing by the sacred pool located in the center of the temple; its scalding, rippling waters churning like the pulsating heart of their city.

"O gods." Hera stared at the other woman, the cold pit in her stomach swelling even as rage churned under her skin until she thought her fingers would tear right through the satin robe she was gripping. "I should have known."

Hera sat up from her perch on the couch, her gaze hard and direct. Her words bit into the ugly truth, dragging it out from under its rock and into the open to squirm like the poisonous, pathetic creature it was.

"You don't love him."

Pandora's distant stare snapped back to Hera's face. "But he loves me. He's in love with me. And if I make him blissfully happy..." she let her casual tone trail off.

"Well." She gave a sardonic grin that, for once, stretched all the way across her face. "Atonement could come in a much more painful form."

Hera's glare tracked her as she slowly placed her things in a worn leather bag. "Atonement?" Her voice was incredulous. "What-you haven't done anything to deserve throwing away a lifetime of happiness. What makes you think your actions have caused any more destruction than any murderer's or terrorist's?"

"You don't know everything about me, Hera. And that's the way it's going to stay."

"You should tell me, then. I need to know. I need to know it all."

"No! Don't you understand? This stops here. You keep pushing and pulling at me. I can't stand it. You already know too much. No way I'm letting you have any more of me than necessary."

She paused, controlling her breath with effort. "What makes you think I'd be happy, anyway?" And here comes the punchline, she mocked herself.

"I don't love. It's not even that I don't know how. I've watched, observed, tried, pushed, screamed myself hoarse by giving my heart directions. I've seen how others love. I can't."

She turned once more to her closest friend, her eyes impossibly luminous and glinting fiercely.

"But I won't let that get in the way of my plans. And he will never know."

Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...

Mind the Wild

Some things are bound
contained
like you and me
Other things are left
loose and
spinning wickedly

All that remains
my
inner circuitry

It will fall, will shatter, will break

if you touch me

But I can't weep, won't feel, won't bleed

if you cut me

Some people are free
rattling
innards and bones
I am shut tight
everything in
its bloody home

Mind the wild hair
tendrils
swinging like machetes

All because
I won't break, won't break, won't...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~

Where have all the zeugma gone? <-- Yet Again, Poetry

What...?

What a wonderful world it would be if all the boys were cast out upon the raging sea. To live many a month, or a year or thirty-three. Drowning in that deep blue sea.

Okay, this is a test of my span-first attribute. Not working right now.

Update: YAY!! It lives!

Temporary Soundtrack: "Bolita Trapo" by Cabas off of Contacto
Quote Trapped in My Head:
"I have ketchup anonymity. *lengthy pause*
Wait... no." - L.B.
What I Learned Today: To "kittle" in Yorkshire dialect means to tickle, from the Old Norse kitla. A lot of Yorkshire words come from Old Norse words.

Wait

You've lost me
without meaning to.
I've stepped away
leaping stone by stone
across the river's current.

You are frozen
poised to jump yet
too afraid to risk it.
Your dark eyes watch
pleading to my back

Wait. Stay. Mine.

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

10 Things I Want to Do Soon

1. Publish something.
2. Go back to Brazil, with friends.
3. Travel in India.
4. Get over my fear of touching insects.
5. Learn how to fire a pistol.
6. Learn how to throw knives.
7. Create a portfolio.
8. Get over my fear of people.
9. Learn how to sail by myself.
10. Teach myself another language or re-learn French.

Current Soundtrack: "Aaj Mera Jee Kardaa (Today My Heart Desires)" off of the Monsoon Wedding Soundtrack.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "...And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?" - W.B. Yeats, The Second Coming.
What I Learned Today: The Inuit myth of Malina, the Sun, and Anningan, the Moon, as well as Sedna, the Sea. Sedna, the planetoid discovered in November of 2003, is named after this mythological Inuit figure.

Death is Walking, Hand in Mine

I hate fall
And she's walking in the afternoon
with treeskins in her pocket
crinkling and breaking
against her cold ribs

It's like Hamlet:
everything dies before the end
Even if your heart keeps beating
the final steps of this frenzied dance
will steal your last breath

A parade of corpses
in aboveground graves
spines crackling where feet fall
In a post-war battlefield
with blood-red and bruise-yellow grass

Insects whine at the doorframes
begging their way inside
mice and rats burrow and peck
at the soft underbellies of houses
they sense that we are coming...

Death is walking, hand in mine.
Fingers held in his ironclad grip.
We leech the colors from the sky
bleed the leaves and children dry
make new bones to build our thrones.

These last gasps of life
drawn from raspish lips are
building up to some apocalypse.
Even the winds will collapse.
Nothing will survive.

Until Winter bends its crooked hand
touches the dying earth with care
and stops even death in his tracks.
I am death's, but soon,
my lover will come in with the cold.

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~

You can be my diacope, if you let me be your chiasmus. <-- More Poemage

Timeline of a Breakup

Mandala looked down at her paper, then glanced at the officer seated across from her.

"Since I'm, well, fairly close to insane anyway, I figured I'd make light and dark of this situation and give a timeline of my activities since H. and I broke up."

"H? You mean, your ex-boyfriend?" The officer queried.

She smiled. "Precisely. You are a sharp one."

She flipped a page and read:

"Sunday, 16 October 2005
4:20-6:10pm
Online discussion that ended with me promising to call him at 12:00 am his time, which would be 11:00 our time."

"Why?" The suit interrupted. "Weren't you 'officially' broken up?"

"I was honoring his last requests - of a sort. And, I had asked to hear his voice one more time. We needed to get things wrapped up. What, you've never had one last call?"

Mandala shot the detective a cool glance and resumed reciting.

"6:00pm-"

"Wait, that's during your discussion." He leaned in to study her paper.

She pulled back. "Correct. 6:00pm - Removed necklace with half-heart and inscribed ring."

Her voice slipped, just enough to bring his eyes to study her face.

"I knew it was over."

"6:15pm
Called L.B. to talk. Ended up feeling better after a few minutes. Sent a message to Axis. No answer, but she was out.

"7:00-7:30pm
Told mom. Her response: 'Well, maybe he already had another girl anyway.' Classy, no? Packed up pictures of him, removed photos from frames, and put them all in one album.

"That's the way to do it, you know" she interrupted herself, her tone now more friendly, almost conversational.

"What is?"

"Not very thoughtful, are you?" She sighed. "That way, you only have to look at that person in one place. They're stuff is not all over. It's bad enough with your head churning up memories all the time, all on its own. You don't need another trigger."

The detective looked mildly amused at her choice of words.

"7:30-8:00pm
Ate dinner with the family. Omelettes. Cheese, to be exact."

"8:00pm-12:15am
Watched television, played computer games, worked a bit on my costume for our upcoming Shallow Queen Party - (thanks, Dan!).

"12:20-1:40am
Called H. Result of conversation: he wants me to wait for him to get his act together. On the 9th of December, he will call me to see if we should get back together. Oh, also, on the 9th of November. To keep in touch."

"Why the ninth?"

"We met in the wee hours of the morning on the 9th of August, 2002. He's...sentimental like that."

She nodded at the two-way mirror, her body under complete control. She got to her feet gracefully, gathering her papers as she did so.

The suit grabbed her wrist just as she turned to the door.

"One last thing."

Her eyebrows asked the question for her.

"What was your answer? Did you say you would wait for him?"

"I didn't give him one. Instead, I gave him hope. Isn't that the best thing you can give someone who's lost in the world?"

"But will you? Wait for him, I mean?"

She tilted her head to up just slightly, patted his arm, and smiled. "It's not whether one person waits for the other. It's who they end up being once they find each other."

And then, somehow, in the few seconds he was lost in the curve of her lips and the downward tilt of her eyes, she had gone.

"So? What do you think, Einstein?" His partner sat on the table in the interrogation room. "You like her for it?"

"I hope not." He shook his head balefully, like a wayward dog. "The world is too small for those eyes."

Temporary Soundtrack: Feel Good Hit of the Summer by Queens of the Stone Age.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "But my big secret // Gonna hover over your life // Gonna keep you reaching // When I'm gone like yesterday..." from Slow Like Honey by Fiona Apple.
What I Learned Today: The definition of patchouli.

Freedom

So, this is mostly unofficial, but as of today, I am no longer dating anyone.

Heh.

Half-smile, maybe?

Let's see if this can last longer than 4 months, which is my record for being single since I started dating at age 18.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring, however?

We both had not been happy for a while, and being on different continents did not help at all. We passed three and a quarter years together in a long-distance relationship, which is equivalent to about ten years in a normal relationship. He taught me how to love, and we shared so many good times together. I could ask for more, but the circumstances simply do not allow it.

I am, of course, incredibly sad, but I feel a bit lighter, a bit less weighed down by the world.

Hugs to all, and good night.

Quiet

It is quiet
we don't chatter
compare favorites
find kindred spirits

Enumerate our lives
find meaning
in shaky coincidences
and similar needs

skin met skin
long before we knew each other
soul met soul
long before we liked each other

This connection
is instinctual
completely
visceral

you made me boneless
shocked me with warmth
you woke me up
forced me to feel

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

Something they call

Last night, I operated
a complex surgery
performed with precise words
and finely-tuned tones

I severed the ties of pride
burned the ends of lust
collapsed the dams of fear
and watched the future wilt

With every slice and stitch
the whole body flinched
but the disconnected soul
was too far gone to tremble

Until nimble fingertips
prised loose their heavy prize
writhing and slick with red
throbbing like a tempest

Something they call love

And the sound it made
detaching itself from me
tumbled into the dead air
echoing with a shallow gasp

And in that one breath
I knew that this,
this separation of souls,
would certainly leave a scar

They say this type
of removal should be done
only when numbed
by some higher power

Something they call love

But I have yet to find it
lurking in shriveled veins or
hovering as a shadow behind
the moon-slivers of my ribs

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~

All the cool poets are doing it... <-- More Poetry Temporary Soundtrack: "Early One Morning", a traditional carol.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself, and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be true." - Nathaniel Hawthorne
What I Learned Today: What a chiasmus is.

Auctioning Off Your Thoughts

Your Brain's Pattern

Your brain is always looking for the connections in life. You always amaze your friends by figuring out things first. You're also good at connecting people - and often play match maker. You see the world in fluid, flexible terms. Nothing is black or white.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?

Temporary Soundtrack: Walk Humbly, Son by Eddie From Ohio.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "He is SUCH a major road hazard."
What I Learned Today: I like composing descants and fugues.

Headlights

My car and I idle and steam
staring into the future
peering at distant headlights
shimmering from the far edge
of the curvature of the road

their glow haloes the pavement
masquerades as the light pollution
of a distant, pulsing city
gorging itself on stars and clouds
until the monster crests the hill

with twin sunrises, too bright,
too soon this hellish morning
an angry radiance that
slaughters darkness, a paladin's spear
piercing the thick-skinned night

until I turn the wheel, and it passes
then it is just a rolling metal box
that keeps its bulb-powered orbs
in the palsied hands of an old man
desperately peering through bifocals

trying to see the road through the fog

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Handmade Demons

I want to be insane.

To feel that slow,
sensuous
unraveling
of sanity.

I want terrifying visions to assault me,
swirling their bright colors and
bucking their sharp limbs
like rabid carousel horses.

I want to hear mouthless voices
ricocheting along the halls of my brain.

Maybe then, when I am beyond all hope,
you will not run when I approach you.
Gamboling, strutting, glorying
in my hard-won psychosis.

Will you let me hold you then?
I imagine you admiring the bitter cold I wear.
Reveling in the docile nature
of my touch

When I have lost all reason
you will find endless reasons
to love me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dead Stars

I burned the earth
and it still loved me
I burned the world
and it still wanted me
I burned the sun
and it just laughed
I burned the moon
and it broke in half

Left them all battered
shattering as they fall
hurrying toward death
like it's last call
Where I caught the ashes
in my white skirt
Kissed the embers
until my lips hurt

There are only
dead stars in my sky
I can see them from
the corner of my eyes
And I could never wait
to shoot them down
tear them apart
wear them in my crown

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~
This is the rhythm of the write... <-- Poemage

Intense Dislike

At first, I thought this backing picture was clever. Now, I just intensely dislike what it does to the layout of this blog. So, pretty soon, another new template will arise from the ashes of the...well, old template.

Kisses to all I love, and poison kisses to all I...intensely dislike.

Temporary Soundtrack: Time Is On My Side from The Rolling Stones. Diner-riffic!
Quote Trapped in My Head: "I'm holding my breath if you make me go in there."
What I Learned Today: When karma is a little late in coming to those deserving of it, you give it a metaphorical shove in the right direction.

Sick

...in more than one sense of the word. I stayed home sick on Tuesday, and my bed was so magnetic I slept the day away, hoping to kick my low-grade fever.

Gearing up for class starting next week. Psyched and yet sad LizAd is sticking around for the semester. And, apparently, abusing the wall in my sleep. I've got the forehead and forearm bruises to prove it. Yes, I know. It certainly does sound implausible, but Emblem heard the bizarre byproduct of my midnight rage firsthand. Translation: the wall lost.

What other senses, you ask? Well, sick and tired of being taken advantage of, or pushed aside and forgotten. Oh, well. New friends are really gold after all, aren't they? In this case, they certainly will be.

Temporary Soundtrack: Frighteningly enough, none.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? // Hot ashes for trees? // Hot air for a cool breeze? // Cold comfort for change? // And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?" - from Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd.
What I Learned Today: Well, I kinda knew this, but I'm part of a former secret society. Nifty, yes-no?

Ghosts

I wait like a ghost
invisible, always, to you
hovering at the precise
frequency of light
you refuse to see.

I have whispered
my volatile secrets
chanted them over and over
into your
painfully solid ear drum.

A shiver brushes them
off your shoulder
creating eddies
that sweep me bowingly
out the door

and across the undead earth.

~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~

Suerte Negra - Black Luck

1. Bad days at work - complaining clients, absent boss, overworked and tired, errors right and left.
2. Transcripts from Univ. arrived the day of last normal registration (as opposed to "late"). Home tried to call work but we were too busy to hit the call waiting, and Home didn't think of leaving a message on the cell. Registration, of course, closed at 5, but I worked til 6 and came home to a pile of transcripts by my table setting.
3. Boyfriend's house was robbed. His tuition payment, due the 30th, was stolen (he was getting ready to turn it in, and thus had it stashed away).
4. Got an email from an overseas friend. Said friend was apparently struggling with a dangerous kidney stone for the past few months and had to defer travel to the U.S. until next Spring.
5. Fighting with family and H.
6. Late to dinner with Lagarta on Tues. due to family trauma. No hummus pizza in sight.
7. Creepy under-the-skin foot rash. Itchy hands.
8. Mouse still not working. Ready to kill inanimate object.
9. Feeling generally neglected and lonely, but sooo antisocial at the same time.


Brightness seeping through the cracks:
1. L.B. is taking courses as well! Score!
2. CDs arrived from Amazon...oh, man, just remembered something. Pucha.
3. Lagarta and I had a great conversation.
4. Talked to Salvo.
5. Still addicted to Rockstar, but less so to something else... ;-)

*Sigh*.

Temporary Soundtrack: "Leg of Lamb" from the Queens of the Stone Age, off of Rated R. Which, amusingly enough, has no Parental Warning sticker.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "My dear, you may quite possibly rock the socks off me." - L.B.
What I Learned Today:
A mondegreen is a misheard lyric.

Purple Stars

And wandered the purple stars...

Underneath

We’ve never really
had it out, have we
About the way
your eyes track me
As I move cringingly
across the room?
I can feel you
Unpeeling my layers
Shredding them or
eating them away
In your haste to
get down to my skin.

You never quite could
get Underneath, could you?

What misshapen fortress
have you built
To keep my hate from
striking a bitter path
From my glare
to your devious heart?
Had you hoped
my memories would fade?
You stirred some spell -
ground-up wings
Of plume moths
placed in my dinner milk?

Well, I can recall.
I remember enough
to place the shudder
that crawls so stiffly
down my spine when
that unholy fire
sparks in your gaze.

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

Yellow World

And then I woke up...

Poems to Burn, Rhymes to Spare

Some poems are made of nothing but fog
flittering blithely by on gleaming wings
so full of holes they barely stir the air
the slightest breath sends them spiraling
delirious butterflies giving their all
to one last haphazard mating before dying.

Some lyrics skim banal feet between the waves
threatening to dig into the surface
of the eagerly waiting mind, and yet
never penetrate to feel the current below.
The most adventurous of these wade prettily
haunting the shallows for fear of depth.

Still other rhymes bludgeon you
assault you with heavy, relentless visions
force row upon row of disgusting words
into your throat, until the juice of acrimony
leaves tear tracks on your neck
and pools above your collarbone.

But there are those verses,
those seductive turns of phrases
that romance, take, and leave you.
The motions of their miniscule paws
send electric shocks down your spine.
Leaving perfect footprints indented in your back.

Enigmatic is its middle meter
offering up flesh shadowed with letters
generous and mysterious by turns
filling your covetous hands and eager mind.
Fever stains seeping from curve to curve
creeping and fretful, just like lust.

Stanzas building to a frenzy of ecstasy
tinged with that perfect dash of half-truth.
Driving gasps, writhing vision, slipped control.
Until adrenaline explodes in your ears,
heart's thumping rushing through your head.
Molding its time to match the meter.

And you awaken from your pleasured trance.
Shivering, you wipe the remains of ecstasy
from the crinkled corners of your eyes.
The oddly slack skin on your cheeks may be wet.
Your lip has been wounded, bitten and bled.
But your soul is merely turned inside-out.

And the poem will have left. Without so much
as a soft press of lips hovering over your brow.
Wrapping itself in your best satin sheet
striding out the door, down the hall,
and into another's open bed.
Deliciously filling another one's mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My, what sharp hyperbole you have, grandmother...and such big words, too! <-- More Poems

Note: This poem really bothers me. I wouldn't have worked on it for two months if I didn't think it worthy of attention, but something about it just doesn't flow...I guess that's the point of narrating this way in poems, though.

The whole idea behind this is the way different poems can affect a reader. I'm not saying these are the only poem 'types' possible, just the ones I choose to cover here.

Some are lovely to behold, with vivid, sparkling words, but fall to pieces once studied for some real content.

The second stanza's targets are full of smooth lines, empty boxes, and shallow water. Again, they lack content.

Other poems are visceral, biting, and poisonous. They attack the reader with a barrage of wold or violent images. Instead of stroking and slowly building, they shock and disgust. Those poems can be effective and a necessary experience.

The final type get under your skin, reverberate through your mind, and forever change you (for better or for worse). They are like lovers that explode your world but do not stick around to comfort or pick up the pieces. They'll watch the aftermath from another's arms, though.

Archer.

Games

There are games that grown-ups play
that bleed the mind
pulling the edges of childhood scars
into distorted dreams

There are games that adults play
making up their faces
like corpses eager to attend
their own wakes

There are games that grown-ups play
bowing before nightmares
breathing life down the rotted lungs
of dead-eyed mirrors

These are games that adults play
replacing night-lights
with the friction of sweat-laden skin
pretending they are grown.

Hide in the corners of their blood-shot eyes
maybe they will not find you
take your soft fingers in theirs
and stretch you too thin, too soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NEW! See the Flickr set for this poem!

If you turn the page, does that count as turning over a new leaf? <-- More Poetry

Web

A monstrous web
is strung between us.
Lies glitter like diamonds,
flirting with moonlight.
Shivering with each shrug
given by the wind's fierce tug
on every flossy strand.

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~
This is a poemita in progress...

Comfort Words

Yes, that's right, comfort words. Words that hold some meaning for me, or words that I love to say, hear, play with (not like THAT, well, not most of the time, anyway), and surround myself with. Silky blankets of words. In serveral languages, I might add. I may even give a few definitions.

Word Blankets
archly - At first glance, it seems as if this word must not be real. But it has the shape of a curve, and such a kick built into it.
breaking - A multi-purpose word with a climax of a harsh k in the middle, trailing off gently at the end. Like the calm after something breaks.
campanella - (Ital.) Handbell or trumpet flower.
carioca - (Span.) A long, involved card game played with two decks of cards, a complicated point system, and a lot of strategy.
daemon - British variant of demon.
etch - Such a skittery, lightly striking word.
ever - So many meanings and uses.
hollow - Like holding air in your cheeks and under your tongue.
jagúar - (Span.) Pronounced hai-war. Much more fun than saying this word in English.
key - Very small and short, but everyone is always looking for it, in some figure or another.
languid - Lovely and full of sounds that relax the tongue and mouth.
mesmerize - Anything with m and z puts people in a trance.
refract - The break between f and r reminds me of a refraction in and of itself. Light hitting water and jutting off at an angle.
shift - I can't read this word without having my mind slip into another thought.
sidhe - (Gael.) Fairy or fairies (people of the mounds). Pronounced as shee.
succursal - (Span.) A locale, location. Used to describe one branch of a chain franchise, such as a bank. It's a workout for the tongue.
topography - It has so many ups and downs it needs its own map.
wild - One of the few words that always forces me to open my eyes just that much wider when I say it.

This is just a start.

Stay the Night

Stay the night
push sleep away with me
throw foggy fingers into thick air
make a mess of dust particles

Stay the night
punch pillows into submission
scrape nails against shins
rub heels and arches and souls

Stay the night
tug on tangled hair
weave and un-weave hands and feet
knot ligaments and interlock bones

Stay the night
wrinkle sheets with shared dreams
brush accidental kisses to skin
churn and settle until golden and sated

Stay the night
shudder the earth and echo the mountains
rival the falling of stars
merge halves of wholes into one

Stay the night...

only, don't.

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~

I can't really say why I am so pleased with this; just know, reader, that I am. Written in an insanely short amount of time. About fifteen minutes, in fact. It shows, doesn't it? Ah, well. Forget you!

Go on, wake up your demons! It'll be fun! <-- Still More Verse

Catalyst. I Knew It.

Your Hidden Talent

You have the natural talent of rocking the boat, thwarting the system. And while this may not seem big, it can be. It's people like you who serve as the catalysts to major cultural changes. You're just a bit behind the scenes, so no one really notices.

What's Your Hidden Talent?

Temporary Soundtrack: Sinnerman from Nina Simone.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "Stop with all your proselytizing. I've had enough of prophets in my bed. You can keep your days of doom. I am neither quick nor dead." Unt. RO

Whatever

Your IQ Is 130

Your Logical Intelligence is Exceptional Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Genius Your General Knowledge is Exceptional

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

Temporary Soundtrack: Bittersweet from Fuel.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "When you have to make a choice and don't make it, that is in itself a choice." - William James.
Also: "If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?" - T. S. Eliot

Connotation

It is easier to say
the difficult things
in a foreign language.

Phrases which, when
uttered in your mother tongue
stick to your palate
scrape against your teeth
hang partly down your throat.

Love, hate, fear
all those life-and-death concepts
flow more smoothly
from lips that are just learning
to mouth the words.

How could that be?
I have found
it is just the same
as playing make-believe.

These strange syllables and sounds
hold no meaning for you.
What do you care
if you have just declared your love
for all the world to hear?

Nothing strikes the speaker
as deeply as words
steeped in connotation.

Without this, you become
an opera singer
learning the words and pulling faces
roughly in time
to the rhythm of the music.

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~

Bangs head against wall...grrrr...

Look out, interior monologue on the loose! Don't just stand there. Skip, you sucker! Fast. <-- More Verse

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HUMMINGBIRD!

HAPPY SECOND BIRTHDAY TO HUMMINGBIRD GOES BUCKNUTTY!

Wicked! Can you believe it's been two years to the day since I started this blog? Incredible! I now have over 220 posts, over 50 poems, and the beginning of a novella all on this site. I am so proud of my fledgling blog.

Take a bow, hummingbird!

Temporary Soundtrack: Where Do You Go To (My Lovely)? by Peter Sarstedt.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "I put a spell on you...Because you're mine...You’re mine..." from I Put a Spell On You by Screamin' Jay Hawkins.

Drawn

She's twisting her jewellery again.
Making a carnival ride that twirls
ever faster and more frenzied
between knuckle and joint.

"I'd like to draw you two together"
she says, languidly and offhand.
Reclining by the pond, staring at the sun.
Match your fiancé's flattered leer.

Turn in time to catch a flicker
darkness stirring in her pupils
but it lifts along with her cheeks.
You dismiss it as refracted light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow you end up artfully posed
draped around one another
arms and legs intertwined
perched on his lap so naturally.

Her swift, graceful hands make
as good a place as any to stare.
She has moved that thin silver band
from middle finger to index.

You remember it hugging her skin
when it used to fit where it should.
Counting back, you realize it's been
too long since you've seen her eat.

Questions die on your lips;
she requires absolute stillness.
She's working on the face, you see.
Look at each other and smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Admitting your unabashed greed
you lie in wait inside your door
kiss her to the wall until she submits
pretend she wasn't late to the tryst.

Charcoal marks brushed on your arms
not as dark as the bruises you leave
shading the landscape of her skin
nor the shadows floating under her lashes

She comes fresh from depicting you
locked proudly in another's embrace
Taking her smudged and dusty-eyed
feeds into your desire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thin square leaning against the front door
She hates the ceremony of giving gifts.
As exquisite as expected, with one weary
note of hunger in your devoted gaze.

Send her flowers, must remember
The two of you stand transfixed
poring over each complex detail.
It has become your new obsession.

Nail it to the wall in a place of honor
paper eyes watching your dented pillow.
The fight for its possession becomes
another excuse to stir the blankets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She eludes your warm grasp at dawn
Sliding from under covers to lick the window
Searching for a snowflake in all this heat
She wants to know if he liked it.

You wax poetic, rising half-asleep
to fondle her ribs and pull her back down.
You swear the gods carved her from ice
with ridges placed for your touch.

Abandon the embrace to caress and trace
every detail of smooth canvas.
Mesmerized by shadows and forms, you
ignore her lips seeking yours for once.

Thin hand presses your nose to canvas
lines crossing themselves like nuns
Nothing can remain perfect this close up
hissed in your ear especially not lovers.

Lust lowers your eyelids; you reach out
such a tease, no need to be shy now.
Footsteps creak, cloth rustles, doors shut.
Empty Air. A child denied its toy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only picture you have of her:
a self-portrait sketched on your sheets
etched into your bed as a hollow
where her figure used to lay.


~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is dedicated to the one I mock...What? <-- More Poetic Ramblings

Half-Breed?

Your Beauty lies
in Contradiction. Controversial, unpredictable, and never what anyone expects.
You appearance and your personality are two opposite things. Even your appearance sends different signals to different people. To some you may look innocent and sweet, to others you look mysterious and intimidating at the same time. No one ever knows what to expect with you.
You are a little bit of everything all mixed together. You can be watching a football game with the guys one minute and the next out shopping at a mall.
You seem to be almost a different person every time you meet someone, butat the same time you know exactly who you are and there is always that one thing that makes you you. You enjoy keeping people guessing and people love how completely unpredictable you are.

Some Things
That Represent You:

Element:
Fire, Water Animal: Chameleon Color:
Dark Tones, Light
Tones Song: Everything by Alanis Morriesette
Expression:
Half-smile

Gemstone:
Opal Mythological Creature: Gryphon,
Half-breeds Planet: Mars Hair
Color: Red Eye Color:
Brown

Quote:
"Appearances can be deceiving."

Where Does Your Beauty Lie? Detailed Results.
brought to you by Quizilla

Reptile

Every high-noon night
is just cold enough
that he dances to feel
heat move within him.

One body to body collision
is all it takes to break him.
Jarring loose the memory
of coveting hands
slick with sweat
stroking him
dulling his polish.

His sure steps falter
as his body quick-shakes
and he can't meet
even his own gaze
in the mirror.

As he cuts the fingerprints
out of his own flesh
Strata of shame
pile up on the ground
like discarded layers
of reptile skins.

Shells he has outgrown
while searching for a home.
None survive more than one season
The bitterness he swallows
rots them away
from the inside out.

He holds thin husks
up to the light,
turning them over and over;
searching for some meaning.
Seeing runes and figures
in careless scratches.
Finding significance
in the number of scales
he once wore.

Swaddled in a nightmare
his fingers clutch too hard
He wakes to feel dust
sliding between his palms
and waits for dark.

Slithering and slinking
his way across the floor,
he tastes out a rhythm with his tongue
Jagged snippets of shell
bite his heels.

Willfully, he closes pounding ears
to suggestions of ways
- more conventional, more vile -
of keeping the ice
out of his smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~

Godzilla has nothing on this monster... <-- Yet More Poetry

Of all things...

If I needed to
would you let me hurt you?

You must understand,
this is what I am:
a destroyer
of all things perfect and solid,
clean and whole.

I will push too hard
slice too deep
to the marrow
down to the core
right through that palpitating heart
and out the other side.

My looking-glass is red,
I say conversationally
and constricts so painfully.
Emerging deaf and blind
with closed eyes and covered ears,
I wallow in you.
I swallow the veins in my mouth.
Prickling and rough,
as pleasant as the bending of thorns.

And no simple trip
through your soul
can change me.

You are pathetic.
You manage to be sympathetic
while bleeding to death.
You grasp my hand
as I rise to leave you:
One last kiss...
then blood-stained lips
mark my forehead.

If I had a conscience
I would wait until you died
to wipe you away.

You would let me do this?

Yes, I imagine you would.

I know you.
I recognize your kind,
reciting your blind faith
to a rosary of daisies.

I love you.

I love you not.

But I need you
to let me tear you apart.
At least, until I find
a new lamb that won't run
from the altar.

One that will mince and waltz
carouse and gambol
between the wildflowers, leaping
without crushing a single petal.

No matter the color of its wool,
it will appear to me
as a delicious red cloud,
sitting on its hind heels,
disintegrating blossoms
petal by petal and stem by stem.

With luck, I will have
no need to hide, bide my time.
Indeed, you came to me so easily,
your trust smelling of sweet-clover.
I gave the barest of smiles;
you fell in my lap.

No fairy tale
has ever told the truth:
Of all things terrible and evil,
the most dangerous of these
are the pretty ones.
Incandescent, fascinating, hypnotic.
But treacherous and tricksy as a spider web.

Wild daisies with thorns
as long as swords
and twice
as hard as steel.

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~

'Twas a dark and stormy metonymy... <-- More Poems

Verse Status

The following poems have been updated. Listed below are titles and one of my favorite lines in each poem.

The A in Egypt      "even her lullabies pitch and keen instead of croon"
And I Am...     "all this awkward fumbling, trying to fit together puzzle pieces of flesh."
Goddess      "She idly wishes for a tourniquet for the weather"
Licorice      "Even alone I feel like licorice, with ridges shifting below my skin."
Navigation      "You are the only thing, living or still, that I cannot seem to disassemble"
Pretty Things      "Shiva, baby, can you tell me why is it always the pretty things that we so dearly love to destroy?"
Today      "Under the intermittent sun, where Our feet tickled the mountain's backbone"
Unicorn Bones      "I glow supernova-bright like an acid-tripping firefly even in daylight."
Vertebrae      "I confess I want you most when breaking."

Temporary Soundtrack: What Shall We Do With A Drunken Sailor?, a traditional sea chanty (or shanty, if you prefer). Thank you very much, L.B. I hold you fully responsible for this.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "Love comes down any way it wants to. Doesn't ask for your permission. Open up your arms, or it will break you in two." from Dracula Moon by Joan Osborne.

Graveyard Blues

I'm going down to the graveyard, baby.
Going down to dig my grave.
Said I'm goin' down by the graveyard, baby.
Down to dig my own grave.
You brought me to this, darling,
when you told me that our love,
it could not be saved.

Going down to the graveyard, honey.
Gonna lay me down in my grave.
Walking round the graveyard, honey.
Gonna lay my bones down in this grave.
The ghosts're wailin' all around me, sugar,
but I'm too low down to be afraid.

And if I rise up, rise up someday
I will kiss the cloudbursts and fly away
If I see you walking with your new lover
I'll send some storm clouds your way

I've made myself a bed of bones, baby.
Gonna rest my head down to sleep.
Made me a bed of bones, baby.
Gonna lie here in this grave and sleep.
I always knew you wanted me gone,
Gone now, so far gone, child.
I just didn't know
you wanted me six feet deep.

(And I will rise up, rise up someday
Kiss the cloudbursts and fly away
When I see you walking with your new lover
I'll make it rain on your wedding day)

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~

Whew! Finally got it out of my head. What can I say? I think we should go back to having parties in graveyards.

How Now, Purple Personality

Your personality is Purple.
Purple is the artist in your soul. Purple is for
poets and painters. Purple is the ever-thinking
mind and the quite mouth. Purple is the enigma.
Purple is theories and every deep expression or
belief. Purple opens the gate to other worlds.
Purple is the wonderer. Purple is a myterious
genius.
But if the truth be known, there is a little of
every color in us all.



What Color Is Your Personality?
brought to you by Quizilla

Monkeymen of the Apocalypse

You Were Actually Born Under:

Full of spunk, you are the original party animal. You bring fun, activity, and stimulation to any event. Self-control is not one of your strong points; you have been known to over indulge. Cheerful and energetic, you can turn the most boring thing into something fun. You are most compatible with a Rat or Dragon.

You Should Have Been Born Under:

You've got a ton of energy - and need plenty of room to roam. You tend to follow your whims, and it's hard for you to stick to one thing. Specific jobs, loves, and friends are always changing and never a part of your life for long. Very intuitive, you tend to know what people are thinking before they say a word. You are most compatible with a Dog or Tiger.

What Year Were You Born Under?

One More For the Road (Literally).

You are elegant, withdrawn, and brilliant. Your mind is a weapon, able to solve any puzzle. You are also great at poking holes in arguments and common beliefs. For you, comfort and calm are very important. You tend to thrive on your own and shrug off most affection. You prefer to protect your emotions and stay strong.

The World's Shortest Personality Test

*Blush* See you after our weekend in CT!

Sign of the Rising House...

Your Rising Sign is Aries

You're full of energy - and people look to you to get the party started. Confident and honest, you'll be the one to say what everyone is thinking. You are easily bored, and you always find unique ways to do things. You don't just dream it, you do it. And that's why you're so successful. Too intense for some, often times people are intimidated by you. But you're usually smart enough to charm them anyway!

What is Your Rising Sign?

Names for All Occasions

Mandala Reina's Aliases

Your movie star name: White Chocolate Francis

Your fashion designer name is Mandala Barcelona

Your socialite name is Queen Of The Fairies Madrid

Your fly girl / guy name is M Wil

Your detective name is Leopard Suffern

Your barfly name is Pizzelle Bailey's

Your soap opera name is Eve Edgebrook

Your rock star name is Peppermint Jet

Your star wars name is Amafru Wilhec

Your punk rock band name is The Distraught Fire

The Amazing Meganame Generator

Vertebrae

You are so lovely when breaking.

I see a demon's year of pretending to heal
in the shallow curves of your lips.
Ugly stories you tell so studiously off-hand,
divorced from the vibrations of vocal chords.

Your collarbones twitch out a dance,
moles on your skin forming words.
Patterns shift between each vertebra
parts of your design I must study.

Here is my guilty little daydream:
my touch sliding down your arm,
linking our bony fingers together.
Our hands pressed back to back.

I will apologize for the shocking
temperature of my simple caress.
You may slap me for my carelessness.
But you will use the other palm.

We are a joyously dirty pair.
Who sensed it first? The fates? The muses?
Even with detachment as our motto,
we somehow connect, fit atom into atom.

By 'connect' I mean, not that we two
are complimentary halves of one
gloriously elusive, mythic whole.
Keys to locks and corks to bottles.

We are instead the same half,
If you line us up, hip to defiant hip,
and examine our sullen silhouettes,
you will see our identical jagged cuts.

We can compare whose grooves run deeper,
cut to disguise our fear with bravado.
We face down our demons by fleeing,
playing blindman's bluff on a cliff.

Sweeping our limbs with casual airs,
we reach to burn the sins right off,
remove our cancerous memories by
making love to the greedy sun.

Eyes slitted with pleasure-burn,we
blind-skip over that seductive edge
proving that heavy souls must fall
stripped of all but skeletal hope.

As we lie here, licking our many wounds,
re-feathering wings and sharpening claws,
watching our lover leave us for the sea,
I confess I want you most when breaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shiver me allegories! <-- More Rhymes

And I am...

I want this swiftly brought to an end,
all this awkward fumbling, trying to
fit together puzzle pieces of flesh.
When this is done, and you moan,
you shudder, give a kiss, and sleep,
I can finish counting your scars in peace.

Give thanks for unobservant lovers.
Only those who desire and obsess
but will never possess can truly see.
I keep molded pouts and smiles in my pocket.
Seduction is built into everything I do.
And I am so fucking beautiful.

All the time, even cold and marbleized,
violent with barely bridled rage,
hiding under the guise of dreaming,
giddy within this carefully cultivated,
oddly poisonous illusion of love.
Even my flaws are bewitchingly made.

It amuses me that mankind believes
I can be caught, can ever be claimed.
I am the spirit that drives men mad,
undulating at the edges of their vision.
I am a siren, casting my hungry net
over the sea, breaking suitors against the rocks.

I am both unicorn-tamer and monster,
savagely defending my freedom
Wild and unafraid as I run the fields,
slinking and terrible as I hunt the forests
I am pleased you have learned to avoid my gaze
as you fall into place, down on your knees.

I am not on a pedestal; I was born above you
and I am in the heart of first woman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word Association is Your Friend. <-- More Poetry

STOP

It's really not hard. I am not asking you to love your neighbour as you love yourself. I am not telling you to devote your life to working with charities. I am not requesting that you leave all your worldly possessions behind and become a prophet.

I just want the world to stop.

Though there is no such thing as a completely innocent soul, there are good people in this world.

I have a wish. I wish you could feel what the victims of your acts of violence suffer at your hands. The intense physical and emotional pain of these victims, of their families. I wish you could see their faces in your dreams, hear their names in the pounding of your heart.

I just want these senseless acts, these violent attacks, the wasting of lives, to stop.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deepest sympathies to those who have suffered in London today, in the past, and will continue to feel this pain in the future.

Rekindled, Strengthened, and Made

Happiness never came this easily to me before. Two important factors are behind my current good mood.

First, I have sorted out some worries and found what may be the answer to my discomfort in certain situations, and some difficulties I have in relating to people. Could I be any more deliberately vague? Try me.

Second, and most recent, I have rekindled an old friendship, made a new, incredibly deep connection with an acquantaince turned friend, and, within the past few days, strengthened a tenuous connection with a delightful person.

Even with the damper put on my joy by outside influence and recent events, and by my own cynicism, I remain upbeat, even elated with these new connections.

Temporary Soundtrack: "Help Me", Joan Osborne's version off of Relish. "Put on your nightshirt, baby; hand me my morning gown..."
Quote Trapped in My Head: "Comparte tus sueños de agua con el sediento peregrino. Largo y culebrero es el camino sin tu cariño." "El peregrino" from Contacto by Andres Cabas.

Unicorn Bones

You say I gleam
like unicorn bones
in moonlight.
Eerie and cloud-white.

Mercury creaking in my veins
makes me terribly sane.
Pitch me cruelest harmony,
pinch me to sleep.
Beloved wants to see me weep.

Pain is my somnambulist,
devil's a sandman
slinking along the keep.
You can keep me but not alive.
Pandora is my lover,
panic my middle name.

She breathes in my ear
the sweetest of broken promises,
as I grin and swallow
your husband's latent shame
late-blooming like nightshade, whispering
Love is just an extinct game.

Electricity tickles the atmosphere
when the barometer's falling, snowbell's calling,
tolling out: Hear! Hark! Watch and weep.
Let the appalled audience see me
devour the writhing moon, so dim
in comparison to my radiance.

I admit it, I shine.
I try so hard not to,
with sullied mind,
dirty heart, dust-covered skin.
Can you sully the reputation
of a child of ill-repute?

You must know, all bets are off
the scale, the charts, the cuff,
when I glow supernova-bright like an
acid-tripping firefly even in daylight.
I blind, refract the tide.

Do I still shine?
Emanate light?
Imitate life?
Rip off my horn.

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~
No one ever said living life ab ovo would be easy! <-- More Poetry

Licorice

I feel like licorice, the way
my ribs rub together when I bend.
Stinging and fierce
in your throat, but too limp
to struggle for release.
God, does the friction
of bone on bone
ever hurt.

For so long I lacked the words
to give life
to my suspicions about dead things.
Before, mania held my hand,
tugging always to
pull me forward
reaching behind my neck
to drag me on.

I made of my mind a slippery, blank canvas
from first heated glance to last moan.
Yet something always stood
around the corner,
hidden in the cracks of the
next sidewalk square,
waiting for me in the depths
of tomorrow's sleep.

All the while
I kept moving so swiftly,
regrets harmlessly
striking my flanks,
sliding off me like mouthless remoras.
No rough grooves or wrinkles
on my perfect mask
for them to grasp.

I refuse to let you watch
the cracks spreading
beneath the icing,
striking to the filling, to the
burnt layer stuck to the pan,
scrubbed and worried at for hours,
freed from filth
only to be thrown away.

I move the heavens to keep you
innocent of the strangeness
lurking in my material.
I will not bind
your sympathy to my arm
wear it into battle
against my past.
Through sacrifice, I spare your virtue.

Even when alone
I feel like licorice, with
ridges shifting below my skin.
I can not settle
into this twisted body
the curves do not
fit their spaces
my tendons are too long for their bones.

The clenching of muscles
holds me hard
even when I do not dream.
So I shift my ribs, press on a bruise,
attempt to mutate
to the will of the world.
It hurts, doesn't it,
this friction of bone on bone?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flurry of Letters

*Surveys posts over the past week with amazement. Gives semi-sheepish laugh.*

Remember how I said I was going to be lax with my posting from now on? Apparently not. Not that any of the poems or anything I'm putting out are any good - yet. *Winks* I've taking to putting up more raw material and re-working it over and over again, until I never want to read the words and I dream about them and they float through my mind at inappropriate times, and I shove them away, only to have them echo in my head much later on, at which point, once I hear the echo, I know I have something.

So, if any of you lovely people actually read the poems on The Poetry Monster post, you'll notice that they change. A lot. Some of them get longer, some shorter, some go in completely different directions than the original. The date on these posts, by the by, is only a date of first publication. I should really put the date updated next to these poems instead...

On the news front: I've been tinkering with several chapters to Animated at once, and the prologue has been growing like a wordy chia pet, along with the plot. However, new chapters will be slow in coming, since I have taken to reading about Game Design in books borrowed from all over several towns. Isn't that neat, the way these library systems work nowadays?

P.S. We have a new fridge! Yay!
P.P.S. Tomorrow is going to rock!.

Temporary Soundtrack: "Untouchable" by Garbage off of Beautiful Garbage.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "And your hands are really shakin’ somethin’ awful // As your worries climb around inside your clothes // Oh, how long will you be sittin’ in the darkness // Heaven knows..." "Crazy Baby" by Joan Osborne, off of Relish.

Empty Mirrors

You are a
most ineffectual light,                
aching to shine your
glass heart out.              I would worship you but
In a world filled
with white-hot                you are blind to me.
brilliant suns,
you are a flicker.

You are a
desolate hallway                       
lined solely
with empty mirrors.           I would fill you but
You clean this
reflective skin               you spit me out.
every night with a
toxic solution.

You want to wear
that symbolic ring.
Throwing yourself
at the whoring moon,          I would hold you but
willing to lick
the sweat off his feet        you despise my touch.
and let him
use you as a throne.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My friends occasionally inspire me to write poems about them, their situations, their attitudes, etc. To date, seven poems on this site have been nudged into my consciousness through interactions or observations of them. When I say inspired, I mean just that, only inspired. Nothing ever stays true to life for long, especially in my poems.

This is one of those poems. I dislike all but the last stanza. So, I'll keep working on it. Because I love torture.

Navigation

Through lowered lashes
I try to picture you
as a topographical map.
Layers of skin translating to
black circles measuring
height and depth.

I study you openly
and struggle to draw the
planes of your body,
mutable as the shore; but you
refuse to dissolve
into angles and curves.

I attempt to navigate you
in a paper boat with angry folds
and ripped sails, charting the
wrinkled edges of your smile.
Somehow you have become
both my compass and my North.

You are the only thing,
living or still, that I
cannot seem to disassemble.
To break mountains and seas
into easy-to-swallow
pieces of heart and soul.

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~

Psst! Don't look now, but your iambic pentameter is showing. <--More Poems

Hurt

You want it to hurt.
If there is pain
you can pretend
you suffered
through such torture.
But you never can
fool yourself completely
silence the voices -
hateful, mocking, vile -
nipping from inside.

So you make it hurt
mix pleasure with pain
until it's all you need
and the only way you feel.
If guilt were matches,
baby, you'd be a bonfire
and light yourself aflame.
It burns when you stop
and you never could say no.

Want hurt
pretend suffering
fool silence
voices mocking
inside screaming

pleasure pain
need away
guilty matches
baby aflame
never stop

~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~

Yes, I'd like the baked ode with cyclic sauce. Can I get a side of octaves with that? <-- More Poetry

Tidal Spin

Making the world spin.

My Name

I want my name
to Roar in your ears
Thunder over your thoughts
a roller coaster's circuitous journey
restless and insatiable
to Thrum in your heart
the manipulating Beat of a bass drum
Leaving behind its echo
an insidious wriggle
in your ears

I want my name
to vivisect your soul
Carve its sultry letters
into the soft underside of your skin
to Spill reluctant blood
from blushing scars
to Sting as the juice of oranges
Slipping into fresh wounds
Every scar you see
will make you flinch

I want my name
to cling to your tongue
make you swallow your bitter words
each letter burning a trail on its way down.
To knot your insides together
until you heave in self-disgust
When you lick your lips, bite your cheek
My sacred name will be
the only thing you taste

I want my name
to Burn you as a brand
elicit a delicious pain-sharp hiss
as flesh touched to sun-boiled metal
your traitorous body will Recoil
giving your cowardice away.
Fill your nostrils
with the cloying perfume of rotting flesh
its foul air invading your mind
you would rather suffocate
than Breathe it in.

I want my name to be...
the first word you Say every morning
what you Moan while dreaming
what you Cry while begging
to ring through your mind
the last Sound you will ever hear
the last Thought you will ever have
all you will ever know.
~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~

Animated - A Novella

Click on a link to see a chapter of my ongoing story, Animated. Original fantasy fiction. Could be considered young adult, but will have dark themes.

Prologue: Long Lost Rubber Ducks
I: Breaking the Moon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All material copyright AEW 2007.

Animated - Prologue

So begins Animated.

Prologue: Long-Lost Rubber Ducks
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just an ordinary rubber duck. That's all it was.

Or so Holly told herself as Mae nonchalantly placed it on the resort's guest services counter, directly in line with the hostess' watery, swamp-brown eyes. Its vapid grin of black paint seemed to challenge the uniformed female behind the counter even as her nasal voice droned out instructions.

"Now if you would just leave your keys-"

"There's also this." Mae cut in smoothly.

With a soft 'squeech-y', Marlow the duck's plastic yellow underside touched down on the splintered wooden desk.

The hostess swallowed the last part of her sentence, startled eyes flying from a point just over Holly's shoulder to meet Marlow's lifeless pupils. The elaborate, teased hairstyle stopped bobbing, the doughy face underneath freezing halfway through a polite smile.

"You can return him to the room now. Number 475, if you please. Though, I'm sure he wouldn't object to a change of scenery."

Mae patted the duck fondly. Marlow gave a firm 'squich-ah' as if in agreement.

"Whadda ya mean?" The hapless employee shifted her questioning look away from Mae to the other half of the duo. Unfortunately, she wouldn't get much help there. Holly had wandered away at the start of the conversation, injecting her perusal of the resort’s breakfast menu with a nonchalant air. Face deliberately turned away from the scene, she was biting her lip, desperately trying not to laugh at the woman's baffled tone.

"He just had something he wanted to see out here." Mae shrugged. "So I agreed to take him to the main lodge for a short outing."

Holly studiously kept her gaze fastened on a painting nailed to the lodge's almond-colored wall. A mountaineering man stood proudly against a field of white snow, his rifle-bearing arm flung back at an impossibly macho angle. An odd shaft of morning sunlight reclined across the glass frame, cutting his body off at mid-thigh. This gave him the appearance of wearing hot shorts, a detail that somewhat ruined his majestic pose.

Mae's reddish-brown curls leaned forward conspiratorially. "I think he was looking for his brother, Wade, but I didn't want to pry."

More silence. At least, Holly reflected, the employee hadn't called for her equally vacant-minded manager. And wouldn't that make a fine mess first thing in the morning?

"Go on, Marlow. No, no, glad to be of service, no worries. Well, thank you." Mae continued on, blissfully unaware - or unheeding - of the odd tableau the three humans and one bath toy made. She had Marlow carefully cupped in one palm and was holding him out for Teased Hair to take.

A navy-clad arm reached hesitantly over the counter and accepted the duck. Marlow squawked "chee-ya", which to Holly could have meant anything from "good-bye" to "help!" or possibly even "I love puddles!" Mae seemed unconcerned, though, so Holly took that as a cue to grab her sister's duffel and head for the glass doors.

"Would it kill you just once to lie and say you wanted to swipe it, but decided to put it back?" Holly hissed to her younger sibling.

"You'd rather I come across as a thief?" Mae countered as the two made a beeline for their car.

"Well, then, that it somehow got in your luggage, and you found it while rooting about for the room key?" Holly opened the trunk and threw all her bags in with one vicious motion.

"Marlow wasn't ashamed, and he was the one who had to subject to being manhandled by that desk clerk. Why do you get so upset over what people think of you?" Mae sighed, climbing into the passenger’s seat.

Holly launched herself angrily behind the steering wheel, buckling her belt and anxiously checking the mirrors. "Because what the world thinks of you can make or break you! You can’t just traipse merrily along, pretending everything is lovely and copasetic, when everyone you talk to thinks you’re stark raving mad!"

It was an old argument, never quite put to rest by all the years they spent trying to walk in each other's shoes. Holly's cheeks would burn red, half in anger at the attitude of those that labeled Mae as crazy, half in embarrassment at her sibling's attention-drawing antics. Mae would try to distract her, or tell her that no stranger's opinion mattered, least of all the fry clerk at that greasy fast food restaurant. And why that IQ-challenged jerk had such a problem with letting Violet the alien share a bag with Elvira the cow still mystified her...

A lock of reed-straight light brown hair fell into Holly's mouth as she suddenly turned to her younger sister, scrutinizing her suspiciously. "You didn’t happen to--tell me you didn’t--"

"Duck got your tongue?"

"Tell me you took no other prisoners from the resort, Mae."

Mae ignored her companion and got out the directions that would, hopefully, with a minimum of wrong turns and incorrect mileage markers, get them home.

At some point, Mae had erected a wall between them, the darker side to her power - and all the havoc it wreaked inside her - buried beneath layers of mirrored glass. Mae’s need to keep her out burned at least as strong as Holly’s desire to take the blockade apart, layer by layer. She could feel the other woman circling the outside of the metaphysical fortress. Sometimes tapping gently with carefully chosen words, as if seeking admittance, other times silently stroking the surface, searching for a weak spot. More often than not, Holly ended up hurling whatever she had in her formidable arsenal at the offending barrier.

"Maeve?"

"They're not prisoners if they ask to come along, now are they?"

The redhead mused over how long she should let Holly sweat, finally taking pity on her poor sibling when the other woman seemed likely to burst a blood vessel. Plus, she was using Mae's full name, a sure sign that lava was about to erupt from the fuming woman to her left.

“No, Mother, I was a good girl this time. I even remembered to wash behind my ears and not steal animated objects.”

Holly breathed a quick sigh of relief as their green sedan pulled out of the resort driveway and onto the highway.

“Just Ford, Marlow’s cousin. And, of course, Jane. She's a paper doll who got folded one too many times and needs...”

“Mae!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All material copyright AEW, 2005. Stay tuned for Chapter I.

The Here And Now of Posting

So, I have not been posting as much as normal, and no new poems for almost a week now (oh, the horror!), because I've been working on something new. It's a novella that just will not leave me alone. I came up with the concept this weekend, sat down to work on another full-length novel that I've been working on, and remembered this idea instead. From then on, the prologue came pouring out of my brain, along with, oddly enough, what will probably become chapter III. It's all coming out in bits and pieces, but flowing remarkably well. It's been ages since I've written any piece of fiction in prose form, so I'm amazed at my ability to actually get my ideas down on (digital) paper.

Also, I've been hanging out with my friends and Emblem, all the while enjoying the feel of an empty house. I'm such a jungle cat, I swear - so territorial and antisocial some times.

On the long-term future note, I'm looking into doing this program: Masters Degree in Design and Technology, a two-year graduate degree program, with a concentration in Game Design. My major hurdles: lack of a coherent portfolio, no experience in either design or programming, no letters of recommendation, it's a really expensive program, and my own biggest fear.

However, I can take care of the letters and portfolio (hopefully) by taking night courses at a local college. As far as money goes, loans and scholarships are my friends.

All in all, it's been a strange yet peaceful week. Besides the refridgerator breaking and getting mold in everything. And my favorite aunt permanently moving to Virginia. And the hectic plans we have for this weekend.

Well, whatever gets you through.

P.S. Can't wait to see Sar-Sar and Cult Steve this weekend! And our party planned for July 2nd is going to be epic!

Temporary Soundtrack: Open Up from Dispatch.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "Mae patted the duck fondly. Marlow gave a firm 'squich-ah' as if in agreement." ~ from my new story.

Knowing What You're Missing

Sometimes you have to move heaven and earth to see for yourself what you've been missing.

I only had to travel to a family reunion in West Virginia to see what I'd been missing, family-wise, all these years.

Precious little.

Don't get me wrong, family is great, but I guess I just hoped they would be a bit more friendly, a bit more eager to get to know us, their distant cousins. The last time Emblem and I saw them, we were small children, and they were recently married or graduated from college.

We don't have any close relatives on my dad's side, so we were included in this reunion in a kind of pity-based invitation. After two days of West Virginia mountains, attempting to converse with complete strangers who share barely-related DNA, and Family Olympics, we took the 8-hour drive back to NY.

The most in-depth conversation I had the whole time involved me getting advice that could be taken at best as highly insulting or at worst as prejudiced. From someone I did not know, and who knew me not at all.

I was exceedingly underwhelmed by the whole ordeal. However, now I knew.

I had nothing to worry about. There was no great family love, no exciting stories, no sharing of instant connections. No comraderie under the family crest. All of these years, seeing only my mother's family, not knowing my cousins from Adam, didn't matter.

I missed nothing. Nothing that I didn't have with my sister, my little cousins, my friends, my life. Disappointing, but relieving at the same time. I don't have to love these people. I don't have to like them. I don't have to worry about them, any more than I worry about the welfare of the rest of the world.

I wouldn't say the trip was a complete catastrophe, nor was it a total letdown. The 7.00 parking fee we paid on our detour to Hershey Park was worth it to get a tour/ride of chocolate-making, to laugh ourselves silly at our confused antics, and to get stuck in the parking lot, driving in cirlces until we figure out there was an automatic sensor on the Exit gate. Even if we didn't get bears that smelled like chocolate to replace the ones we got as children.

Temporary Soundtrack: Float On by Modest Mouse.
Quote Trapped in My Head: "There were so many fewer questions // when stars were still just the holes to heaven..."
Holes to Heaven by Jack Johnson.

Xanthous

This is something he used to do
He would climb the wayward trees
pretending he was anything but human
breaking hearts but never his own
being anything but a well-adjusted child

This is someone he used to love
how her eyes shined like black opals
she used to glow with warmth
his white skin luminescent next to hers
and there was sweat and a trundle bed

This is somewhere I used to go
pacing the ends of piers with splintered feet
dancing between the squares of marble
wandering the wrinkles in my own brain
So fey, such a fickle, violent child.

This is something I used to be
cold and aloof in my own skin
a wicked and capricious deity on a throne
marking my territory with words and glares
Feared and consequently adored against my will

But This...
This is something new.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ain't no rhyme like an approximate rhyme. <-- Poems Abound