Nostalgic Love

I might love you, in the most lustful of ways,
as your eyes shift toward mine
my stomach quivers
and I can think of nothing but your legs
and how they wrap around me,
tighter,
with each kiss.
I may adore you,
when our faces touch
 and your eyes go narrow with the glow of wondrous youth,
as I bask in you-
softly awakening a sense I have tried to forget...
I may love you,
early in form but substance in longevity,
something I never wanted again yet cannot live without,
and you in this undually match
crept nostalgia upon me
and I wept bitter, wholesome tears
screaming, avoiding love
 in each drop.

Tears from the Sky

The tidal waves crash
Restlessly upon the rocky shoreline.
Grey skies idle bleakly over the saddened land.
Her tired eyes stare blankly
Toward the cumulonimbus-covered navy sky,
Almost in wonderment at the world's pitiful state.
As the rain begins to fall
Slowly to the Earth's surface,
The realization of lost salvation is found-
Everything turns to silence.

The Pessimistic Girl

The twist of her smile
Rained slime on the day.

Me En Rope.

I am a wonderful procrastinator. Absolutely blissful at doing any thing and every thing but what I am supposed to. Ahh, reveling in the limelight of lazy glory feels so right. Shouldn't I want to do something productive? Hardly. How can one pass off the glories of simple life. If it is forgotten, every minute detail of one's daily life is overly complicated; thought out, planned, stressful. Roll with the tides, they always lead to where you need to be, even in the most unexpected of ways. Maybe its better to be an animal. Lovely to read some crazy girl's jumbled thoughts, isn't it? Please, be confused, you have the more than enough of a right.

More than You can Fathom

manifestation. exactification, realization. communication, driftazacion. I am no where yet I am every where. God, are you me? Or am I God? We are, Everything.

blubbering blurb

I think the reason I have so many passions, or extreme interests is because in my past lives I concentrated on these interests. What will it be this life, then? I am just bored of all my living? I find beauty in many different aspects of this life, however, I become bored or indifferent easily. How can I change this? ...I don't think I can. Haw can I improve the quality of life as it pertains to me? The question remains: What do I love? I can answer in a long list: What do I like? *trees *the ocean/beach *rocks (favorite malachite and tanzanite) *rock climbing *mountains *water rafting *camping **rowing *traveling *poetry *writing (for me) *reading (at least I used to) *art (but I have not done any in so long) *art shows *movies *TV *music *people *talking *alcohol *food *cats *dolphins *horses/horseback riding *spending money frivolously (I would include sex but I don't like it so much anymore) Well, I figured out a couple of my loves: *Modest Mouse *walking barefoot

awesome site for art career ideas

http://www.theartcareerproject.com/book-cover-art/678/ and one for environmental science: http://www.ehow.com/info_8222544_kind-jobs-there-environmental-science.html

Profile View

Bold perspective of her profile,
two-tone-colored hair,
dressed in a Romanesque nose.
Bear false witness
between the lines of her lips,
where liner and skin mix.
Not a wrinkle born yet,
only pores, large pores
embedded with black dots of evil.
And that eye, that one eye,
a poke of fun twinkles to the world
between squinty folds of eye skin.
Her stature remains forever still,
captured melodramatically,
without a thought or a word.

the red cloak

upon him the cloak falls listlessly,
red, as the darkest blood on earth
he pulls it over his head and flies!
destiny pulls him higher toward the moon,
gravity leaves its hold upon him
the moment stars caress his cloak,
aiding his flight across the universe.

mehishnish

ive found comfort in knowing the unknown,
i cant decide where the chips fall--in my mouth or out my ass?

i thought i knew a way of comfortable living
then i moved out of my parents' house.

i wished upon a star so way up high,
it was sucked up by a black hole and never returned my wish.

i never knew that feet shrunk,
until mine downsized a half size.

ive found life to treat me like a snake's prey,
either choking or poising happiness.

He Died

death becomes each one of us;
internally we combust at some point,
internal organs still,
veins no longer produce blood
and tears flow,
endlessly.

To Explain The Inexplicable Is Simply Not Done

It seems the ways of love
are amongst the most confusing,
multiple partnerships to find just one?

Almost implausible, impossible,
what can possibly be the point you ask?

Hearts will be torn apart either way,
minds shall fly with the wind,
how is this even worth the worry?

Splurges of sexuality,
is that just the kicker?

Oh, but no,
if only to truly know.

Wonderments of illusionary metaphors
may cloud the mind
trying to express the inexpressible.

A part of nature is love, you see,
it cannot be tolerated nor withheld.

Exotic as the Kapok tree it grows
toward the heavens, not quite knowing when to stop,
intertwining new organisms along the way.

Sometimes, weather strains growth
choking the once thriving life.

However for one reason or another,
the tree will always survive,
as a part of the ecosystem or a shriveled memory.

Love is just the same.

Under the Planks at Mr. and Mrs.'s

Mr. and Mrs. just bought their first house.

A beautiful suburban sight
complete with rose bushes
one oak tree,
and wood floors.

Weeks after the grand move-in
Mrs. smelt an unusual scent-
that of a rotting animal.

"Mr.! I smell a rat!"

"Where from darling, I smell nothing."
The Mr. replied.

"It's coming from the dining room,
On the far left of the house,
I smelt it while cleaning baseboards yesterday dear."

Mr. went out to explore.

Indeed, on the far left side of their new home
An ungodly scent rose from the foundation,
"I'll call the exterminator dear!"

"Ring, riiingg-a ding-ding!"
the phone on the other line rattled.

"Hello, what can I do you for?"
Answered a grizzly-sounding man.

Mr. calmly recanted;
"It seems something is decaying under
my new home, may you come have a look?"

The exterminator arrived promtly,
went to where Mr. pointed,
removed the planks which cover
the raised foundation.

----

Underneath the dusty planks
withers a being, crusty with age
amongst maggot-filled earth.

"How many suns has it been down there?"
whispers the new house-owner to the exterminator?

"Too many for me to count."

The stink rushed into the crisp autumn air
generously compiling outside it's former home.

The exterminator crawled slightly in
and pulled out a half-decayed human body
whilst coughing through the poignant odor.

Her name they will never know,
her beauty will never again be admired,
her gender only known from the
ash-covered, brown-tinted dress.

She is to be buried in a day's time,
Mr. and Mrs. were the only attendees of the burial
on that sad autumn afternoon,
the day the pitiful smelly pest was exterminated.

tinktinktock

Another day in this skin,
One more rash of stress
And wrinkle of age.
Time moves faster than before-
It seems weeks are merely hours
And sleep has raised in value.
I cannot quite concentrate
On the importance of future
When today seems belly-full.

Devious Deviant

Devious deviant,
you do not belong in this society.
Devilish daughter,
change your abnormal ways,
become the debutante I am.
Norms!
Follow the Norms!

Devious deviant,
what are you doing with your life?
Devilish daughter,
change the way you think,
become one of us.
Norms!
Follow the Norms!

Devious deviant,
your clothes are embarrassing.
Devilish daughter,
change your hair the way I like it,
become a Normy.

Remember to always,
Follow the Norms!

On Snow

Sickening, rotten apple!

Try to poisen me as you might,
death shall overcome either way.

Your slimy core
eats me away...

the Sink Man

happiness lingers through the broken windshield,
he bathes under the limelight
covered in sacrificial red paint,
points a finger toward the heavens,
sheds a single tear;
the ceremony begins fluidly as bare feet
pound purposefully on the cool dirt,
arms flail overhead,
back flexes religiously,
neck quivers wildly;
commencement between mortal and spirits,
inherent pain flutters through his epidermis,
uniting those secrets known yet kept silent.

When You Glow Green, You Have a Big Heart

even as the daisies wilt on the kitchen table
smiles spread across the aura lit room,
green glows emanates from each lover of life present,
seeping through the cracks of the infrastructure
it's taking over the space, the beings,
hearts larger than hate,
these green glowers grow
and shall cease to wilt
even as the daises on the kitchen table slowly die.

Dirty Underwear

Crumpled panties lay in the dusty corner of the bedroom,
a putrid scent emanates from the pile.
No sense of when or where they were last worn,
except the memory scent of lovemaking and sweat.
Worry of reminiscing this night keeps the panties
at bay in the stuffy corner to rot,
until the day they find home inside the dump,
where they will be buried
along with the arrogant men who seduce innocents,
leave marks of bodily fluids,
and stash the wretched in the dusty corner of the bedroom.

Fate

plays in the stars,
dances across milky ways,
toward the circular hemisphere
we call our planet,
through the northern wind
it drives between mountains and plains,
glimpse into the future,
then back where it follows
preconceived road signs,
adjust the template for each victim,
creep when expectations are low,
pummel destiny down dry throats,
silently drift away in wait of a new day.

The Gift Part 2

Safely hidden behind a wall beam,
the sac patiently waits for the day
it's master accepts truth.
Dust collects over the years,
darkness encompasses the hidden brilliance
shutting its luminosity away from the world,
from him, from her.

He keeps busy, learning, knowing, living.
Mind is pushed to sole experiences
and meaningless, and sometimes meaning-more sex.

Such time has passed hope fades
quietly with each fleeting day,
weakened hope stirs an inkling
through his memory, remember.
Four years and four days has passed
before the beam is pushed to the side,
the sac of skin stares into his soul,
urging him to live fully.

It is as if the sac called to him,
invited his presence at this very moment
to know her once again.

Gentle fingers push the folds of dusty skin
apart, allowing the daylight to penetrate
the neglected art of nature.
Warmth fills his heart,
tears fall down pale cheeks,
time and truth join collective hands
to stimulate the most potent of all magic-
Love.

The Gift Part 1

Worn to the core he can see
the most enchanting belief come to life,
It's radiance bellows from underneath
the protecting outer layer.

Interest does not intrigue him to look
bellow the surface where an adventure softly awaits,
Driven by fear of loss, a continued loss,
he cannot relive the pain.

Tucks away the skin sac from sight
yet holds onto it, for one day,
He may discover the greatest mystery of life-
the reason heavens deplore at the notion
that such a thing exists.

of course, I Know, i've never Belonged

Putrid annoyance amplifies from each radiant being,
Energies run wild through course, agnostic veins,
I am, as I see, unbridled,
Unwanted in this place of thickness.

I cannot be here,
The energy runs thin of welcome,
And vast of un-acceptance,
Pleasing will not do for everyone.

Mortified tis I,
No, simply peachy...
Hated by everyone is a way of life,
Disrespect follows shamelessly.

Word from the wise-
stay indoors, unsocial,
where no harm will come to you
the wallows of despair
are left to hang as shadows from trees.

the day

how does the most innocent
always destruct prominently?
Unknowingly she lingers by,
sharing thoughts and images
wanting to learn, learn, know.
Trouble follows, for the trust
bestowed is never trusted.
By and now she goes,
walk stoically among the rustic bodies,
incense of death harmonize,
de-construct, rebuild.
Patient as the tides,
quiet more than than the wind,
she treads, a leaderless villain
wiling to face the day
uncaringly, unknowingly, unhappy.

Writers Block and Politics

It seems I've nothing to say lately...this incessant writer;s block is annoying me. It's quite possible I've gotten a brain of mush from watching too many TV shows and movies on hulu.

What is there to say?
Our economy is crashing, presidential election is coming up..and those running are duschbags. 1:2 are in poverty or having a financial crisis (me being one of those 1:2). Corporations are ruling us, and most of the American people don't even realize it.

Life is going in a blurry array of time passing too quickly.

I don't know what to do with my life. I'm majoring in Journalism but where do I want to be in 10 years? Africa? Food journalism? Radio journalism? Magazine journalism? Author of three poetry books, yes.

Married? Who cares. Well, maybe I do a little. But that is not as important as independent stability.

Ahhh, Ratatat just inspired these words: I want to Break Away. (which by the way is an excellent song)
I want to break away from my inhibitions. From my lack of confidence, or lack of will. I want to break away from being lazy, from depending on anyone for financial support. I want to break away from my immature tail and grow legs!

So where am I going with this schpeel? I wish I could tell you a direct answer, but what I can tell you now, is that life, in general is difficult at this moment in history and decisions women and men never had to make career wise are blooming wildly, especially because of the lack of jobs at hand. So, I suppose I'm saying it's time for a revolution of some sort, a variety of personal and social excursions to a better standard of living for the 99% needs to come into practice.

Come together America!

Fight for your rights set by our founding fathers that are being stripped blindly from our skin!

I can't do this alone.

Hail Attention Spans

Concentration of the brain:

...wait, where was I going with this?


Lost, mind is lost.
Fog covers the cellular terrain
from occipital lobe to frontal.


Pay attention.
Attention!

...Attention where?...