| 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. |
Wednesday, 28 September 2005
Auctioning Off Your Thoughts
Monday, 26 September 2005
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Monday, 12 September 2005
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~~~~~~~~~~~~
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~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thursday, 8 September 2005
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
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
Friday, 2 September 2005
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.
Kisses to all I love, and poison kisses to all I...intensely dislike.
Thursday, 1 September 2005
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?
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.
Monday, 29 August 2005
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~~~~~~~~~
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~~~~~~~~~
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
Sunday, 31 July 2005
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.
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!
Friday, 29 July 2005
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
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
Wednesday, 27 July 2005
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
Tuesday, 26 July 2005
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
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
Friday, 22 July 2005
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
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
Thursday, 21 July 2005
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.
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."
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