[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
National Poetry Writing Month's LiveJournal:
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[ << Previous 20 ]
|Thursday, August 12th, 2010|
Can you tell me what had made me special to you?! Can you see how much I'm always changing to hide it all? Can you see the things I try to erase so you won't forget my fame? And you have seen me cry my last tear just so you know. And this world will never be what I expect of the guesses. And yet can I leave alone what I have come to expect in my own life? Now you see how I will turn this around and you'll be missing me can you guess it? Can you let me help you to feel that it wasn't too late? And yet you thought you had known, known all of what had come of me. But yet I'm here to tell you that you're wrong in a piano serenade with my guitar to acompany. But can you feel these emotions that hinder my being alive? But is it too late? Is it ever going to be too late? And yet I look when your around to hide the sadness when you're near. You are my hidden angel whom will never let me touch you in love and affection. I love the ideal of you that I see in your eyes. Do you realize? You're my angel. Won't you breathe me in? Just breathe me in and when I had asked you your name were you afraid to let me in? So I've hurt my ego again today and I see everyone pinning me with blame. So hold me in my own foldings for I am small, and needing warmth. Be my friend, wrap me up. Hold me when I have fallen. And yet I had been told to love myself eventhough I can be a bitch like you've never seen, and so negative it's offensive. I'm wise in my own respect and so brave you've never seen anyone with such a golden heart. Can I dig my shames? And I'm still here, I blame everyone for my passive agressiveness which is often devestating when I'm so close to down. Can you see the light within my dark? I will be persistant in what I know and that is that I am so high and then so low. I'm so gorgeous and so ugly on the inside at times. And yet who is still here? Just me, ironic at such a young age. And if I told you that I need time for this old soul to continue to gorw and heal would you understand? And yet the evidence was always there that I had been openly wasting my time with many whom had not known my worth. And now that I've fallen can you pick me up again? When romance is our fall can anyone dare love another human being back? They had told me that my colors had started to run and in truth they were simply repositioning my stripes. Who is in despair over certain problems and could it be you? I am the courtesian for dancing till we felt each other, till we felt the life within this beat of our souls. So tell me once again could it be you?
|Thursday, April 23rd, 2009|
Temptation is a fickle foe.
My head spinning, wrought with insashiable woe.
Why are you here, my lost muse, why?
Your eye contact, of which this time I reply; placid blues spark the never dead flame.
The flame of my ever-longing.
Here sits I, ever prolonging my unavoidable demise.
My face, masked.
My walls cracked.
My head wails, appaled at my mind track of action.
My heart stretches, awakened, alive.
You speak to me; I reply.
Looking at you, I smile you see though this ply.
I, dis-masked, naked.
You look at me and you know,
I can' t take it.
How could he know?
My mind set on fire.
Temptation that fickle foe.
|Monday, April 20th, 2009|
The Brandy, acid on my lips, is my only escape from the reality; reality that cripples me.
The poet, I, deny fatuality.
The poet, I, embody abnormality.
I can't let myself fall prey.
I shant fall in such a shameful way again.
How could you, muse, make such a claim?
You, muse, should feel acclaimed, that someone with mental standreds such as I, would touch such scum as you.
You, with your blistering blue.
You think you can stare down the newly found poet that is I?
This is no joke to me.
How can you perceive such an ignorant thought, or any though at all for that matter.
"Scene" has killed your morals, "Hardcore" has wrecked your soul.
What use are you to me now?
|Sunday, April 19th, 2009|
19 - 19
This is a very important number
And we're all gonna die someday
Shake your honky tonk ass
And pretend to look busy
In very impressively complex ways
18 - Precede With Control or Alt, Depending on Your System
not go back and redo
I'll even go over them with a highlighter and underline
Everything we need to fix and put it in italics.
Why can't we be open?
Our heart's desires revealed in crisp black print
To all and sundry
Why don't I want to save people anymore?
Do have someone to find, or are there no more?
The problem not being zero to undo so much as nothing to do.
I can always cut them out of my life with an x-acto.
Memories leave a copy of them in my mind for keepsakes
I can paste that over their present
Pretend I've done something bold there
I just wish I had a new task list.
17 - The II
Barely had the time to make accquaintance
Just didn't bother making it
Never let my hopes reach too far
Never had it set in me to believe in magic
Not his magic, in any case
He had the magic that just
kept on wishing
While I dug holes in the field
He promised he'd send acorns
From the oak stump under his rear.
16 - Left, Right, Left, Right
Because I want my knife
side to side
burns feels so good
you want your knife, right?
That arch is where your tension is
Stretch it and you become the trigger
A knife is not just a knife, you know
You are a gun
Tension, neck, hair, trigger
Arms over your head, burn inside
Under the flab
there's meat there
Burn, baby, burn
Show your daddy
You can bend
Just like all the other reeds in the field
|Saturday, April 18th, 2009|
15 - The Man Who Stole the World
It's all quiet
Well, did you really
expect her to show?
Did you see that?
Her boots look really nice--
No, man, the--
We'll talk to her later, okay?
Hey, you got a cigarette?
|Friday, April 17th, 2009|
I wonder if my muse still thinks of me?
How, friends, we used to be.
I wonder if my muse wonders.
Could he apologize?
Its too much to hope.
Still, I dream.
Long sunlit hallways.
Lone, I stand, all along the floors.
Books, papers strewn about like dead leaves, and the foot falls.
Ever closer, closer.
But, not close enough..
"I've done nothing."
I won't play the fool again, not even in my mind.
Not my best, but its okay.
|Thursday, April 16th, 2009|
14 - Momma Quan
I am a buddha of compassion
In a darwinist way
Kindness of my fitness
These processes are only so sustainable
Like a thimble on my thumb
That's about how much I manage
Still enough, in the grand scheme of things
Still one star in that vast expanse of sky
I figure I line my light in
Someone else will do the next
And the next
And the next
Post a poem everyday of the month?
I can do that.
Seeing as though I missed the first 16 days of the month though, which really
bums me out, I guess I'll start from here.
Day 16 -
I cannot breathe.
Lost in the endless confinment of things.
Bereaved, I come to be, from all once loved, adored things.
People pass; faces shant last, I believe.
Why come attached to that which will not last?
And all at once,
I cannot breathe.
My bodys playing tricks on me.
This is the sheme of life hidious joke, I see.
A warning perhaps?
No return once done, no relapse.
And yet, I burn the last bridges.
And seal up the walls.
Ears deafened to the becks and calls.
And once more,
I cannot breathe.
|Saturday, April 11th, 2009|
10 - Community Watchdog
Saw somethin for ya
Clear and bright and narrow just like you told me to squint
I can't mail it in a letter, so I'm gonna tell ya when I get home
Yeah, about that
Camden says we'll have some folks waiting for us at the border
That might get kind of dangerous, but I understand if you stand firm
It's what you should do
I think you ought to beef it up a little, myself.
Conscript Gerald and Erynn because they've been good boys
It's just us three renegades what need the irons clapped round us
Really, hope to see you there.
If you're not there
We might get out and I
Can't have that.
9 - Halving Dunes
Maybe this is just a grain of sand in the hourglass
Somesuch like that,
A likely illusion or cut and paste metaphor
Maybe we're just a metaphor, walking in the desert.
This story doesn't connect anywhere.
And hey, maybe we never will.
Maybe we just keep walking in circles, forever,
While outside, we live our regular lives.
How'd we get so lost?
How'd we fall up in here, besides the plot?
What's the point of all this mish-mash and
Other atrophied Q's to F up.
Most of all, where are we going with this?
I thought not.
Look, I'm not going to scrap it but...
Let's find some boards to clap to our sides
Before the covers start fraying away
And I draw my toes up against my calves.
There's not a cat to warm my feet for miles.
|Wednesday, April 8th, 2009|
08 - Between the Sand
I thought there was a story here
Somewhere between the grains of sand
Just dig down enough
But none of my companions here can do for a shovel
Not big enough
Not sharp enough in the head
So maybe I'll take her off and show her
Just where to aim
Where to pry
Her sister knows all about Aim, of course
But her weapons are trigger-fixated upon me
And Hell if I want to set that off
But Letitcia will do
She's old, but I'm still sharp for all my years.
She's biddable. She'll learn she is--
Iron parts the hairs on the back of my neck
Cold, slow, certain.
A drop of sweat beads up in its path.
I didn't see you there.
Tell me, how is Erynn?"
From the darkness ahead of me
Erynn informs us that he is
"It's nice that the three of us could
Have a nice talk."
Yes, Gerude informs me.
The gag's between my teeth before I can move my hands.
Erynn whispers an apology in my ear
We're all not alike, but scent calls to us all.
Something just got up your nose
And pulled you by it, Edward.
S'no fault in that.
Elsewhere I hear Stevie talking to Letitcia
Sissie, sometimes people die.
|Tuesday, April 7th, 2009|
06 & 07
06 - here
I'll hide my eyes behind my own brand.
I'm keeping the Maddens. With them, my legs
go up to
and it's not a place I can reach on my own.
07 - 007
James Bond got all the pussy.
I am going to die a crazy cat lady.
Therefore, I deserve a Lotus. Current Mood: blah
|Wednesday, April 8th, 2009|
7 - Mudda Fadda
I miss home
The smell and the warmth of it
Daddy and hot cocoa from the kitchen
I'm hunting down the old sibs, though
Or so Letcie says.
Starting to feel dark on that.
Knife doesn't whisper about it, yet.
They're just, my Arms.
They know when to cry out.
It's what keeps me from balking now
And they know it, support me.
Like having cocoa far from home
Like Daddy brought it here
Camden's letter crackles instead
Poetry best smoked.
It's not that sensitive--
He hasn't even ordered us back yet.
Don't want them to know he replies, though.
That could get nasty.
Letcie's a little shifty.
Gerude's angry and
Erynn's just find and dandy.
Camden says hello.
Says keep to my exercise.
Says hello to my girls.
Says keep writing to him.
I feel guiltiest that he doesn't rail me for this.
He's all encouragement.
I'm in for it when I get back home, aren't I?
So be it.
There's a path out here.
I just have to find it.
Or maybe there's a story.
Maybe I should stop letting Letcie and Edward write it.
|Tuesday, April 7th, 2009|
|Monday, April 6th, 2009|
5 - Toast
You know, it's bad enough
When I've got one crazy sister.
Now I've got two??
Let's just drink ourselves
under the table again.
We'll call in Gerald.
He's a schmuck, and
No one can tell the difference between us anyway.
To our health.
To our courage.
To our perpetuated longevity.
To our sanity.
To our balls.
To Stevane getting arrested.
|Saturday, April 4th, 2009|
4 - Raspberry Patch
It wasn't really all that desperate
Don't know what you're talking about, because
we knew exactly what we were doing
and if Edward hadn't tripped, we'd have been just fine
That's what I wanted to say at the end of all it
But I've got to face -
Once cousin found that old root
He was still our responsibility
I could have just ended it all there and shot him
That's what Diyn told me at the Trial
The girls still don't understand it completely
But they don't disagree, just almost feel confused
I hate feeling them turn to me for an explanation
They turn away right after, knowing:
I don't have any, and neither do they
We just have to keep searching
That hurt the most,
searching for what we hunted
Every time we got closer, we'd feel so
Sucked, eaten, puckered
Edward seemed to think he had a solution
But no - that's where this story twists
And I change it
That's when my brother comes in and says
am I doing
There's no orphans where we're going but
Plenty of wrong
Plenty to write.
Camden still gets so pissed off
That we check for our skin after
But there's no terrible hollow where Edward should be
And Calyx seems slightly dismayed but pleased at once
The last being such a strong indicator of success
That even Daddy has to credit it.