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[July 11th, 2009] |
How brave we must seem to the children with their merry eyes. But when the curtains fall do they realize we're only mortal tricks of light?
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| "...RLY!?" |
[July 11th, 2009] |
"...RLY!?"
Really!?
It would have been great news if we were maybe Ten years older and our relationship had made it passed Infancy itself before it decided to pop out little egg headed Commitments of its own
I gave up women You were my residual girl We fooled around as offspring of the digital world No one checked our logic since we were technologic And in the market for ivy league degrees So we texted till we sexted and came while we aimed
Soon I’ll myspace from myplace, enter my pin, sign in only to Be in shock when I see in my inbox that I might need to start investing in huggies.
So now you’re having a kid?
I picture no kid crying, no mom screaming push, displaying her unconditional support for the girl who thrusted her into grandmotherhood eons too early. No birth. I flash back to the night where we met And see a freeze frame where some mutant kid with big lips And his its mom hips rips a hole through time and space with the nozzle from It’s bottle, hobbles right into the party Drunk off the same stuff I’m on and crawls right across the floor into my arms of its own accord.
And what about my accord? I’ve won scholarships to move into buildings and nurture my accord With some of the brightest minds of my time
I’ve been published and run seminars where people have come Just to figure out what goes on in my head when I’m crafting my accord
I’ve followed my accord down the rabbit hole and made it back with a new invisible pet that sits on my shoulder and feeds me metaphorical feed back
My accord could mumble a thought standing on space dust and make the galaxy rumble with pure passion from forbidden universal poetic tongues as the earth sits in the corner of the milky way waiting for its turn and Saturn subtly slips her ring off her wedding ring
Pardon the tears, but all these trials that seem to harden my peers and shape them into Misguided youth only go to expose how tender the rose is that grew from concrete
I will not be a statistic, I will do the statistics. I was built to build bridges and roads, not run the streets. I was plucked from the sidewalk and given a vase And I don’t plan on going back before I shribbel up and turn Sensitive shades of violate Even if I do see a birth.
Hit me up when the doctor calls. I might not get service cause I’m in the library but I’ll be online. Ttyl. Nate
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| A Sinners Prayer |
[July 11th, 2009] |
To whichever deity may be listening, there are a few things I would like taken into consideration before my final curtain call. Before my final tally is counted, before I am judged, and found lacking.
Number 1: It takes two to tango. Yes, I have sinned, and yes I have been a bad person. But it took two of us to sin that night, it took two people to sully the innocence of that well-made bed.
Number 2: He was married, yes, but I was not. I was a single girl, lonely and sad. He was a gentle and loving man, with warm shoulders and sweet kisses and so I didn’t look as close to his wedding finger as perhaps I should have. But he was the one who was married, not me.
Number 3: Yes I cheated on that test, but it was hard, and I was tired. I only took the class so my parents would have something to be proud of and I never had to use algebra, ever, after that day.
Number 4: I drink too much vodka, but I never drink and drive, and I mostly don’t call in sick the next day to work because of it. I work hard and I deserve a little light refreshment at the end of the week.
Number 5: Okay, so perhaps I shouldn’t have stolen Miranda Keely’s prize Macaw, but he looked so beautiful and free amongst the trees in the forest where I let him go. And she was a bitch all through high-school.
Number 6: I punched that ex-boyfriend of Lizzie’s and I don’t repent it. He deserved it and I’d do it again, a thousand times over, because he was a dick and he made her cry. So yeah, maybe that doesn’t need to be on the list, but I thought I’d bring it up.
Number 7: I have never told my mother to shut up, not to her face, not even when she’s saying things that make me want to curl up into a ball and die. For that I should get a free pass, end of.
Number 8: I swear that it wasn’t me who keyed the bosses car. I was busy signing him up to gay porn sites at the time.
Number 9: I was sad and I was scared and I was so fucking lonely and that’s why I took all those pills. And quite frankly I don’t think you have any right to be pissed at me because you’re the ones who left me, alone in the dark. If anything I should be pissed at you, all-powerful, omnipotent, unconditional love my arse. So yeah, if you don’t talk about neither will I.
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| haiku: lies of life |
[July 11th, 2009] |
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trapped in a circus, hooting laughs of pretense...boo! a nose long and red
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[July 11th, 2009] |
Pain is a feeling With one single purpose; It is not to hurt you, Or to beat you up, It is to let you know That you can still Feel something at all.
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| One Tree Hill |
[July 11th, 2009] |
| [ |
mood |
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amused |
] |
Lucas: (voiceover) Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swaps of the not quite, the not yet, and the not at all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists. It is real. It is possible. It is yours.
(haha I couldn't help, but laugh at this one...)
Nathan: You've got some ugly toes, girl. Peyton: No, I don't. Nathan: Yeh, you do. They're practically like fingers. Peyton: Well, then just focus on the middle one. Dan: Happiness doesn't come cheap. Hell if it did we would all be smiling. Peyton: How's the tutoring going? You're tutoring Nathan right? It's ok. He tells me everything. Haley: Yeah, he said he needed some help. Peyton: Maybe you could teach him to stop being such a jackass. Haley: I will put that on the lesson plan. Peyton: Just be careful ok. Haley: Yeah, sure. Peyton: Does Lucas know your helping Nathan? (Haley looks at her in disgust.) You know, you say a lot when you keep your mouth shut. It's okay. I'll keep mine shut too.
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| Infinite Tongues |
[July 11th, 2009] |
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Not many mortals have seen the light Although they may have thought They did it was really a lie, The opposite of reality like a dream, But I am no dreamer and I know the world is a tower of Babel. No one person speaking the same tongue We all have our individual tongues From which blood is shed in the absence of light. Our tongues blind us from the thought That happiness is just another lie That was painted by the artist of your dream And a subject about which people babble Everyone is constantly babbling In their various tongues, Which are like the many frequencies of light. We’re all on the same page or so we thought We’d like to be on the same page we think as we lie Awake at night hoping for sweet dreams. Happiness, being understood, loved, are among our dreams, To transcend the tower of Babel, And comprehend others’ tongues, To one day see heaven’s light, Such a pleasant thought Because it is a lie I think we take solace in the lies Because they are like our dreams. But I am no dreamer and I know the world is a tower of Babel Because I am an observer of tongues And thus have seen the light It isn’t pretty as one might have thought. Writing this poem is pointless because you are blind to my train of thought You read and in confusion you lie And think you can better understand your own dreams Than this pointless babbling Of a foreign tongue Of a witness of the light Being understood is a pleasant thought, But it is so to good not to be a dream, Or an utterance of a false tongue.
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[July 10th, 2009] |
but you're neither friend or foe though i can't seem to let you go the one thing that i still know is that you're keeping me down
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| Spiral |
[July 10th, 2009] |
Life is up. Life is down. We juggle, juggle, like such clowns.
Little dolls, caught on strings. We mimic all, What will life bring?
Fake smiles, broken trust. We hide it all, until we combust.
What a game; We all love play. We're stuck in it now; Our own little cliche.
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[July 10th, 2009] |
| [ |
mood |
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depressed |
] |
They're saying, "Mama never loved her much" And, "Daddy never keeps in touch That's why she shies away from human affection"
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| The Peasant and the Sorcerer |
[July 10th, 2009] |
The peasant and the sorcerer, Were walking hand and hand. Beyond the fields of lavender. Far pass the golden sand.
The peasant was a lonely girl, Her world a place of pain. She never owned a string of pearls, Or heard a bluebird sing.
The sorcerer was very glad, To have this time with her. His sorcery was all he had. His life was just a blur.
She fluttered like a light-drawn moth. He worked his magic charm. And then his potion made her drop, Her very wise regard.
Behind his cape he did escape, From this girl's heavy heart. The love he had had turned to hate, And poor girl fell apart.
More than a rabbit he did pull, from his black magic hat. Sweet peasant girl was made a fool. As he sat back and laughed.
Along the way she sure did learn, A few tricks of her own. The more he laughs, the more he'll burn. She'll make dust of his bones.
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| Bound To Do Things My Own Way |
[July 10th, 2009] |
| [ |
mood |
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apathetic |
] |
| [ |
music |
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The fans in my living room |
] |
They all warned me, But I refused to listen, Bound to do things my own way,
They told me it would never last, He was my first, Determined to be different,
He played with my heart, Yet still I wanted to be his, Headstrong and now I have been hurt,
Playing with fire, Now I suffer the burns, No one says 'I told you so',
Attached to him I remain, Wondering when the darkness will end, Unbecoming of myself I hold on to the lost,
Precariously I balance on this ledge, In hopes that he will tell me not to jump, All he does is stare,
A girl walks by and catches his eye, Rejected he barely mourns, Another girl walks by and the cycle repeats,
Right in front of him I wait, Somehow he does not see me, To him I am invisible unless he has a need,
Occasionally he wants to be loved, Every once in a while he looks straight ahead, The respite from my wait is never long,
Almost I can not bear to look at him, The pain that fills me pierces unmercifully, The way thins should have been fills my head,
I should just walk away, A commitment broken by him twice, Should be enough to convince me,
However I stand there, But I am not really there, I spiral in endless darkness,
To me all senses are muted, I hear and see but one thing, Him when he calls my name.
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[July 10th, 2009] |
We are walking down the street, holding hands. There's a playground at the end of the block and I run to the swings and climb on, and Henry takes the one next to me, facing the opposite direction, and we sing higher and higher, passing each other, sometimes in synch and sometimes streaming past each other so fast it seems like we're going to collide, and we laugh, and laugh, and nothing can ever be sad, no one can be lost, or dead, or far away: right now we are here, and nothing can mar our perfection, or steal the joy of this perfect moment.
The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
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| Hiatus |
[July 10th, 2009] |
Hiatus
On the back end of a too late August, you finally caved. Richard had gnawed his blanket to tatters like my fingers; it was the fuchsias that drove you to
Distraction. Lead bulleted up my intestines, your out-called dread. I’m not saying you had it coming or going But the train bled angry bells and steel migraines had us shattered.
This is how people die. Curling themselves so tightly in Alignment, spinal and smiling, it’s all just fucked. Amber bottles, staggered, Us across state lines written over
Mountains-- stood between us. It’s why we ended up in the foothills of Canaan without skis or reason or your drugs. It was the sound of crying, baby monitors drop-kicked solid shots,
And “Hold your breath.” Who leaves those signs? Forget it. You garbled and meant only jet-streamed apologies, Upper-lip sweat, sweet-blossom grimaces. Rhododendron blooms…
It was more like Don’t Ever Ask, a reductive conclusion to Sputtered Why’s and Heartsick If‘s. Everything’s in the running. Even ugliness has its limits, you said, then proved it.
Maybe car-tumbles and bridge-leaps expanded your boundaries. Real suicide leaves no notes, like the morning You choked on your soup, rubber souls swung and hanged,
Dead-men gallows turned cabins in the middle of nowhere. No…what’s left was concrete-crumble topped cones, icecream swooned in Dribbles: the out-leaks of whatever was left of your sorry, stupid brain.
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| again, it should be like this |
[July 11th, 2009] |
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These words,
It stay...
This LOVE
It fades...
This LIFE,
It dies...
But this HEART,
It BEATS...
Beats for only you....
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| My Soon To Be Rap Song (Oh yeah, I predict a million sales...) |
[July 10th, 2009] |
| [ |
mood |
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Sunburnt |
] |
| [ |
music |
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... My fat beats these lyrics will be applied to. |
] |
Women are smarter and men are braver; Which would you rather have in times of danger? The girls can cry and show their legs, While boys can choose to fertilize their eggs. And when a girl isn't to People magazine's liking, Isn't it time she applied some icing? But a man's a man; he can look like a ham, And his wife will have twice augmented cans. She doesn't feel normal without makeup on her face; Showing whiteboard flesh is out of her place. You cannot be fooled; don't make the mistake: There's nothing delicious in undecorated cake. And is it that girls inherently care About their dress and split-ended hair, Or are we all the same And the way we treat each other in this society puts them there?
When we put an "ugly" person on the TV, Somebody criticizes her physically. And the most god-awful actress in a show Is applauded as long as she is dressed as a ho. We make women think they're not doing any right When, secretly, there's someone who dreams of them at night. And what you'll find going through their mind Are thoughts pertaining to a different kind: "Please don't change the color of your hair" Are the wishes of his nightly prayer. And when, if ever, he tells her so, She tightens up and then yells, "No! "My face looks so ugly when it's not enhanced! "And, by the way, I wish I wore size seven pants!" At which point, he buries his face in his hands, Wondering what he said to change the outcome of his plans. "What did I say to make her respond "As if I were acting like I'm unfond?"
But outside of the bedroom door, The boy sports quite a different roar-- He proclaims that no woman's ever pretty Unless she resembles Jessica Alba to a degree. And, of course, his friends all agree, Except, of course, for the girl, Mary, Who points at how unrealistic the boys can be, But she reinforces it by dressing so slutty. And she goes on diets that make her sick, Just so long as she can get a little dick. But boys, I guarantee, that you would too If the pressure were always applied to you.
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[July 10th, 2009] |
Now you Know Shock at how You feel for her How she feels For me How we feel For each other But is it True Or is it False How do you know Search inside Search her heart What does she Do when you’re around When you talk To her Look at her She walks Towards you She looks at you You look at her Look at her
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| ~Love comes and goes~ |
[July 10th, 2009] |
| [ |
mood |
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numb |
] |
I've seen my sister hurt I've seen my best friend hurt I've seen my mama and my daddy they've been through some dirt
I'm so tired of men lying, cheating and deceiving I watch, oh yes I learn... don't want the next victim to be me...
So many times I've tried to figure out what loves really about so I... just gotta find the one that will truly be mine...
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| My false life |
[July 11th, 2009] |
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False hopes And broken dreams Nothing is ever What it seems A scattered heart Spirits are low Why is life Never just so? Not as if Anyone will realize There is really Pain in my eyes Not as if Anyone knows just How much lower My life can go
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