(You have) no
Pulse (right now).
Brain (function has) ceased.
(No need to) worry.
Just another statue now;
No life left.
(I blame) the winter.
ContentmentWhere camels cross across the sands
In hot and dry and desert lands,
Where just to live's a desperate scheme
We watch a fellow, fevered, dream:
Uncontrolled, his limbs, they shake!
On fire, his thirst he cannot slake!
But as he drifts into the dark,
His febrile mind begins to spark
With visions of idyllic zones
Of castles, kings and queens, and thrones,
The yurts of Khans, the tents of sheikhs,
The Romans, Spanish, and the Greeks -!
He stops then, dreams of nature's gifts,
Of mountain ranges, shining cliffs,
Of rivers babbling to the sea,
Of forests, of a single tree.
And then he dreams of something grand -
His one and only lotusland.
As in his mind a shape it takes,
Upon the sand he sharply wakes.
For, though this man is bound to roam -
No single place he calls his own -
He's as content as he can be:
The camels, sand, the heat, and he.
To My Sister1.
I told you once you had to choose your battles.
You smiled and you told me you'd be fine,
The invulnerability of youth hanging on your shoulders
And your yellow scarf around your neck
And your hair just so,
Much later you had forgotten I ever mentioned those words,
You flung yourself into countless skirmishes with me instead;
In my defense I tried hard to get back at you
But my arrows meant nothing, shattered on your worn and dirtied armour like sugar cubes
Or nothing. Nothing is what they meant to you,
And when I held you off neither of us could triumph, I told myself,
But the weariness I felt facing you could mean only one thing.
I wished once you would let me choose my battles.
Later still was better, less hateful, but I could see the buildup in your eyes and limbs and face
And I worried constantly
And I waited for you to lose composure and get into it
And I wanted to say something to stop the stress building up that day
And I was glad when you stopped on the prec
Colour I: Bluei.
She opened her eyes,
Searched for the sounds of
Information, creating a current of
Electricity through her body,
Eyes to brain and back.
She turns to you, and you read her mind,
Read it through her eyes,
Such a strange
You glance up,
Escaping wrong conclusions/
Black specks in the distance/
Lambs lack all stain (Zounds!)
But you know He was wounded,
He must have been,
And mental instability never beckoned so hard
And you fall, purpose or no,
And you lie on your back
And you live on your back
(And you die on your back).
All above you is the vast crushing emptiness of colour.
It makes a paste of your flesh
It makes a dust of your bones
It makes a delicacy of your eyes.
I open my eyes to every time but this.
The sun beats the uneven surface here
And shatters itself into fools' diamonds
That fall beneath the bottom of the earth.
You would not dare to follow them so far
(Though faith might whisper softly that you could)
But she wo
Rain in SummerThe strings of rain in summer pass
Outside the window, dampen grass;
A pattering upon the glass.
A bird is singing unsurpassed
Despite the grey. The memory brings
The strings of rain. In summer, pass
The places we once caught sea bass.
Fat fish thrashing, fit for kings,
And pattering upon the grass.
We drank the sun as days went past;
Allowed to fall upon our wings
The strings of rain in summer. Pass
Control to me- Too late, alas.
The severed ends of puppet strings
Are pattering upon the glass.
Though we may hope, love never lasts;
The bird must cease, for all it sings.
The strings of rain in summer pass:
A pattering upon the glass.
Red Head with Bourbon and LimeHis idea of beauty was a red head, eleven shots of bourbon, and six lime wedges.
He was drunk and she was too.
They fell into bed after, giggling about this and that.
He slept fitfully, stealing the covers.
He awoke in the night, wondering what a terrible mistake he was making.
He got out of bed; he tucked her in.
3am he left, worrying about the morning.
The next night he was at the bar again.
Reckless AbandonThrow all your worries out the window, yea,
And dash your little ones upon the rocks.
Night comes quick and soon to your detractors;
The sland'rous shepherds will fast lose their flocks.
Your critics will be silent evermore,
The ignorant and liars must all learn
When they harp upon your every movement,
They only will condemn themselves to burn.
So feast, feast! on the hearts of enemies!
So take a life's course best described as random!
So take the things that lie within your reach!
Behave with the utmost impeccable reckless abandon.
Pa, we have a lot of Land...Pa, I know you'd never want to split up the farm.
I know that our family's held on to this land for so long. I know that your granddaddy's granddaddy bought it off a shifty guy they all called Crooked Jim. I know that Crooked Jim got shot here. (I know it wasn't any of our family who did it, though.) I know that your own momma got married here, and that your granddaddy built a little tiny chapel on part of the property for the occasion. I know that the chapel burned down three months later when a local boy knocked over a few candles. I know it was never rebuilt.
I know, too, the ins and outs of farming, Pa. I know why we need so much land and I know about rotation, soil fertility, topsoil, overgrazing. I know you were thinking about retiring. I know when Ma went you threw yourself right back into work. I know you have doubts about me taking over. I know why.
But Pa, I know farming like we do doesn't bring in as much money as it used to. I know the economy's bad. I know we're running in
Mary CelesteA month later they found you, alone.
No violence upon you, silent and desolate;
Your abandonment, unreasoning.
Terrified, they passed you around:
17 men in 13 years-
The oldest profession for your kind,
The Amazon type (if you know what I mean).
You were ruined by the last,
A greedy fraud and conman,
Left for dead for 100 years and more.
They found your bones in the water where he left them,
Hard and cold and rotting.
If you only had talked to your rescuers,
David Morehouse and his faithful Dei Gratia,
You could have been better used.
You could have been a rescuer.
You could have been proud for years.
But when you died,
You would have been dead forever.
Haughty death claims all,
But your haughty life keeps your spirit in the world;
None, perhaps, may ever be allowed to forget.
She Wore PaisleyShe came by today, the message on the door says.
She was wondering whether you had her scarf.
She didn't want to call you, it seems to say.
She worried that would give you false hope.
It was a different scene, that night,
(Just three weeks ago, but it feels a lifetime!)
When she came up to you in the hotel bar.
She didn't know you, but she liked you then,
Liked you enough to let your transparent flattery get the best of her
And get the best from her in your bed.
She left it there then, the scarf she had been wearing.
It was still there in the morning when you woke up and she had gone.
You kept it on your bookshelf against the time when she would call.
But she didn't call, and as the weeks melt away you know the scarf is all you will remember of her.
Pity you weren't here when she came by, said the note, you could have seen her face.
But all you will ever remember now is she wore paisley.
sempiternalWhen I grow old
For when rainbows dilute and notebooks fatten
on times untimely passing,
when the moon falls out of kilter with a sun that
curdles in a sad, forgotten sky,
and the rain congeals inside the clouds
when the slurry of seconds sinks deep into my bones
and my skin crumples like parchment, my spine coils and splinters
and my fingers buckle, knuckle-cracking -
when my dreams fade like polaroids in sunshine
and my memories break free from their kitestrings
unanchored and drifting in such dulcet mindmurk and I watch
the world crumble from gold into grey.
I want a thousand laugh-lines
for they will be the maps to better times
so I can find my way back
OC Meme*Copy this into your Meme..
-Choose 10 of your OC's
-Answer the questions
-Then tag 3 people
1.) 3, 7, 4, and 9 go ice skating. What happens?
2.) Its Christmas!!! 5 throws a christmas party and invites three people of choice. Who does he/she invite? What happens?
3.) 6 catches 2 dancing/singing to the 'spice girls'. What's 6's reaction?
4.) 1 and 10 are stuck in a janitor's closet. How the crap did they get in there?
5.) 4 confesses his/her love for 8. What happens?
6.) 3 walks in to see 6 and 7 making out in 3's closet.. What is their reactions?
7.) 9 and 5 have an argument that soon turns into a fist fight. How did it start? And How does 2 try to break it up?
8.) 6 and 7 are getting married! But 8 is in love with 7. What does 8 do?
9.) You here a knock on your door. You open it to see every one of your OC's bursting in to your home. What do you do?
10.) 2 admits to you that he/she killed 9. What do you do?
11.) Everyone gat
InsanityWhy hello there insanity
Let me walk you 'round the floor
If you look off to your left
you'll see the girl i was before.
The tiles might be broken
But its nothing time can't fix
But if you think its art-work
Then all the broken parts will mix.
And the doorknobs may not work
But you can crawl through like spies
The holes you made with your fist
Are looking just your size.
The mirror in the hallway
Has seen some better days
And although you may see yourself
It's not uncommon to also see haze.
And the windows may be drafty
But i promise its not too cold
And if you can deal with that
I'm sure that you'll be sold.
And you see here in the closet
That the lightswitch doesn't work
But that only because
There are inner demons that lurk.
The picture frames are empty
But thats only an attempt to forget
All the fun i once had
And the soul that I once bet.
There's shattered glass in the bedroom
From when you told it was goodbye
And i let the bird out of it's cage
Knowing it would die.
But the basem
There is nothing more devastating
Than losing a loved one
Knowing that you will never
Hear their voice again
Or feel their touch, or see them smile
It's heart breaking
Time is a powerful thing
One that is forever
Time takes everything
And makes it it's own
They say that time
Heals all wounds
Time only created more scars
As the ones that it caused before
Begin to heal
To lose a loved one
Is a tragedy all in its own
But don't be sad
You will see them again
Because while time takes everything it can
Will take you too.
Time takes everything
And eventually it even takes you.
and we found...we love like we sin, terrified and breathless.
we are tea-at-midnight girls, naming constellations
that don't exist after lost tourists we meet on the
street, reminding our freckle covered shoulders
that even beautiful things can be made ordinary.
we are broken fingers and half-closed eyelids and a
penchant for mischief. we are ribbon skin and frantic
desires and incandescent hope. we are a voice spilling
secrets to falling leaves diving after their arachnid brothers,
mimicking the millions before us who were
judged unfairly, unjustly but all too correctly.
we whisper promises to dandelions because they do not
know how to hold grudges and we refuse to die because
the world can not stand the sight of our scars and
cloud-colored eyes filled with a malady called freedom.
we are believers and dreamers and scared to death but we
are not done yet. we are dusty library windows and thunder
raking through bones and leaving eyes glowing, skin shaking,
burning whispers of 'I'm sorry, but this is
Paper MacheDrop your paper hearts into a basin of tears
and dry them in the sun
Well tape the middles back together
Glue them back to back
It Has Come To My AttentionIt has come to my attention
that people like me
are generally not welcome in fairy tales.
It's the talking birds that do it.
The minute a sparrow shows up to pipe a direful warning
it's all over
down at the first hurdle
The body in the fifty-fathom well
will have to wait
the old woman turned into a hare
the murdered mother in the juniper tree
as I whip out my Sibley guide and look for the entry
with the fieldmark labeled capable of human speech.
For this crime
I have been accused of a failure of wonder
of having chained up my inner child and sent her
to work in the salt mines.
But the truth
(if you really want to know)
is that I have read too many fairy tales
and lived a bit too long
to be surprised by anything that happens in
the cottages of lonely woodcutters.
I can even venture a guess
to why the bear speaks with the voice of a maiden
(my heart goes out to her)
and why, when the animal has saved your life,
you will be required to make a harp out of its bones.
These are o
The Rumour of IcarusIcarus
there is a rumour that your father killed you, that
he bent your wings until they broke and then
told you, "Fly."
If this rumour is true, then it lives in the throats of
those fragile boys who wear your death like Cain's mark,
whose tender hands split like swollen tomatoes when
they pluck strangled seabirds, whose
arms slump beneath the weight of their father's genius.
And this rumour lives on
the under-skin of their eyelids so that when they die
or simply sleep
they dream of their fathers
or maybe just of Daedalus, standing with
his hands full of feathers and wax,
their blood-flecked down under his fingernails.
your face is gone, icarus, you are a warning & a tragedy &
the patron saint of boys who will not listen but also you are a god, icarus,
a god to these boys and still, when you fell
said Bruegel in oils, Auden and Williams in verse
no one gave a damn.
they also say that your father strained the sunlight into an amphora
and told you, "Dri
Oh art thief, oh art thiefOh art thief, oh art thief
How you’ve brought us all to grief.
How can you be unashamed?
When you stole from people unnamed
How you think about your own fame
Just like others like you playing that game
How you feed off us
How you live on others success
How can you sleep at nights,
Knowing you infringed other’s rights?
How can you enjoy this fame,
Knowing it rightfully belongs to another name?
Do we also carry the blame
That we blindly follow someone’s claim?
To the people that believe everything humans say
To you I say good day
We must always question what we are told
Or we can start to be controlled
By vicious lies and such
To me that is just too much