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~~~~~~~~~
Monday, 29 August 2005
Thursday, 25 August 2005
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.
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*.
A mondegreen is a misheard lyric.
Monday, 22 August 2005
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~~~~~~~~
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~~~~~~~~
Friday, 19 August 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, 16 August 2005
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
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...
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...
Wednesday, 10 August 2005
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.
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.
Saturday, 6 August 2005
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
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
Friday, 5 August 2005
Catalyst. I Knew It.
| Your Hidden Talent |
 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. |
Thursday, 4 August 2005
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 |
Also: "If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?" - T. S. Eliot
Tuesday, 2 August 2005
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
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
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