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old ID by NingerGinjaaahh old ID :iconningerginjaaahh:NingerGinjaaahh 33 15
Cocktails In the Hospital
I wake again and again, forgetting where I am.
The nurse comes in the morning with rispiridone,
olanzapine, fluoxetine, valium,
lithium and abilify, and I remember again
swallowing my morning meds down
with my spirits.
:iconrosary0fsighs:Rosary0fSighs 18 5
For sorrow. For joy.
For mournful wants and whys.
For smiles fed by salty streams,
that stream from crooked boughs,
bent on happy eyes.
We bow. You cry.
And we take shelter
atop understanding roots.
Grounded to stable grounds,
we rest to grow, like you.
:iconbeyondjen:BeyondJen 7 36
Amongst a forest of trees
bathed in every shade of color,
and every shape of form,
they stood
rooted together, similar
in bark,
and limb,
and leaf.  
They spent their days
swaying to the music in the air;
notes swirled in the updrafts,
collided in the sun,
and listed down through the filtered light
of the foliage surrounding them.  
They rustled in protest
of things that needed such,
and basked in the gentle rays
that fed their needs.  
They seeped multi-colored bows when it rained,
and bloomed in complaint of the dark and cold.  
And they reached out,
limb to limb, scratching
against each other's bark, shedding
the papery protection like clothing,
revealing their vulnerability
and beauty inside.
Written: 1/4/2012
Edited: 1/14/2012
Copyright © 2012 Jen Fowler
All Rights Reserved
:iconbeyondjen:BeyondJen 10 39
kx 117 by metindemiralay kx 117 :iconmetindemiralay:metindemiralay 470 17
Guilt pecks at my carcass
pulling entrails of failure,
diseased with ADD excuses
and racing thought-filled polyps,
ready to burst.
Your pity-filled eyes can't bore holes in me
any deeper than these blackhole memories
that poison me.
I used to have a heart here, somewhere.
Now there's just another empty cavity
breeding rot, collapsing what's left
of this deteriorating shell.
I used to have a will, once,
before it escaped through the fissures
that split open
from too much time alone.
And now, alone, is all I have left.
Tomorrow I'll try to cure this cancer that eats me alive.
Tonight, I die inside.
:iconbeyondjen:BeyondJen 9 51
unfortunate habit
I have an unfortunate habit
of pressing my fingers to my wrist;
or the soft warm spot in my neck
between the taut tendon and the rigid hardness
of the laryngeal prominence.
I think; although I am not sure –
that I do this
to feel the steady thump the blood thrum
the flow the beat the never ceasing flicker of life
It reminds me.
It reminds me that I still function
that in all these broken parts
there is something that still works
something that operates the way it should
the way textbooks say it should and white coats say it should
and that I really am here
with the flutter of my blood in my veins
And then I remember.
This rhythm, this song
played through the neck of a little girl.
the acoustics were better in those days
A little girl, just six, seven maybe?
And I say to her
my dearest little starry-eyed girl
my hopeful little self with my hopeful little bobcut
I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry.
And life flickers on through both of us.
:iconmeggie272:Meggie272 16 28
(English version below)
L'ombre II
Comblé par la lourdeur des blés
Et la blondeur du soir
Les fleurs s'affairent au silence
Ton parfum blanc enrobe
La route
Frantz, octobre 2011.
Shadow II
Fulfilled by the weight of wheatfields
And the gold of the evening
Flowers are working to silence
Your white perfume coats
The road
Frantz, october 2011.
:iconexnihilo-nihil:Exnihilo-nihil 32 35
Playing Possum by NingerGinjaaahh Playing Possum :iconningerginjaaahh:NingerGinjaaahh 85 26 The Scientist by Sash-kash The Scientist :iconsash-kash:Sash-kash 3,210 528
El Dorado
If you ever get the chance
To watch the sunrise over a city of gold,
Fucking do it.
No excuses.
Don't let anybody tell you it's iron pyrite,
Or just gold-plated.
Don't let them talk down to you.
If you don't smoke,
Well, you might want to start.
It's hard for some people to watch their dreams come true.
They call it Stendhal's Syndrome,
But that doesn't matter.
What matters is mood music.
Bring a jukebox,
No substitutes.
Run an extension cord if you have to.
All the way back to Omaha,
Or Portland,
Even Pittsburgh,
But probably Portland.
Plug it in and weight the needle heavy.
Brood like an artist should,
About how every time you play that song on vinyl,
You're changing it for keeps.
And while we're debunking myths,
Don't let them tell you an artist
Is supposed to be a solitary creature.
Bring friends,
And tell those friends to bring kerosene.
This is your dream.
Burn what you want.
Give the sunrise competition.
Fly high on wax wings.
It'll only last a couple minutes,
But ask a sex addi
:iconthermadoriangrey:ThermadorianGrey 4 11
To whom it may concern,
I first saw her on a mattress,
in the ocean,
in the arctic
Bouyant as a young Hindenberg,
Swoll up on hydrogen,
And painted with thermite.
Blonde and broken like Kristalnacht,
She was just my type.
A telethon I'm tired of.
I never liked Sarah McLaughlin,
And I'm allergic for God's sakes.
But every time I see that commercial,
I want to hug all the fucking kittens in the world.
Every time that girl says my name,
With only the bitter part of her tongue.
I stutter,
I shudder.
I drop the hammer,
Drop the nails.
Drop the screwdrivers,
And the drills.
No more fixes,
No more crosses.
I'm not a fucking carpenter anymore.
So just do me this one favor, man.
And send her my love in a telegram.
:iconthermadoriangrey:ThermadorianGrey 5 10
median: a haiga by haijinik median: a haiga :iconhaijinik:haijinik 22 30 looking behind by inmyroom looking behind :iconinmyroom:inmyroom 3 3


:iconnebuloussusurrations: :iconwritersofnewage: :iconto-our-family: :iconincahootsliterature:


You know it. I made it!
  • Listening to: Ane Brun
  • Eating: cigarettes


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TheLunaLily Featured By Owner Mar 2, 2019  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday Kate!!!
vespera Featured By Owner Jun 28, 2018  Professional Writer
StormBringer23 Featured By Owner Mar 2, 2015
Happy birthday Ms Kate.
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