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[The Epigrammic Poultry]

Bitch, you is fucking good.

I recorded what I wrote up there, and it's here: http://www.theshadowbox.net/forum/index.php?topic=7048.msg415021#msg415021

And this fucker won't leave me alone, and he doesn't even know it:
 
Harpy

Sweet, lilting baritone drones
ring acidic, a banshee shriek.

Her pale, uncalloused hand:
a talon, sunken into flesh.

Her gentle features, comforting,
vile, medusan, paralyse.

In her intentions, benevolent and blameless,
a cruelty lies dormant.

[Savannah]

Dreamer is my name.
I never leave my home.
I create imaginary friends in my mind
that's why i'm always happy.

While looking through a kaleidoscope
i have seen a stationfull of people
whose trains were always late

Oneway tickets in passengers hands
That's just the way the life is, though they don't know it yet

People of the station are here, all together by coincidence
They have dreamed the same dreams
But each will go their seperate ways

In the past, once upon a time,
While i was just a little child
And before the Heaven beach
got replaced by a huge carpark

There were little fish in this sea
swimming between the red corals
The most beautiful ones were
The smallest ones in orange color

Once i had a dream
That i was a little orange fish
And a guy gobbled me down
Without waiting for me to grow up

People of the station are here, all together by coincidence
They have dreamed the same dreams
But each will go their seperate ways

Dreamer is my name
I've got a secret that i keep to myself
But you can see it through my eyes
But beware, don't stare at me
Because it's what hurts me most.

[Cirque]

The first thing I've written since June, I'm hoping to get back to writting.


The tank

Movement, slow, restricted
gasping when I come up for air
move and rupture stillness
cotton ripples radiate

pressure closing in
warmth surrounding
soothing dark, light from where
sunken denim treasure lost below

deep, dark, stifle
writhe, squirm, thrash
we are deep in the tank
but the surface within grasp

light tears in

air rushes in

we burst through

legs like jelly
I have changed
crave the tank
and be restrained

[Cirque]

^Almost like a different version of that previous poem the Tank. Like everything I wrote, it's quick and I won't go back to it. It only took 30 minutes and I think as I write. I feel that what I write reflects a thought process more than anything.

Beluga (The Tank in Practice)

Suspended, deep blue
and the hollow noises bubble
all my hair extended
all below, above.

Crack, the birds that make my ribs
fly south down through your lips
My heart, your teeth
such deep blue contact
Rages reds and pinks from these depths

float cold as the heat suffocates
suspended above, below
denim urchins on the floor
navigated by the vessel, cast off.

I can hear the song, so sad
wafts through the thickness
sail away, the ripples I can see, feel.
float by, gargantuan

You are the pain in my hips
Not so crude, but vulgar in its coming
lamented in its absence.
 The beluga bard bays blue

open eyes to such soft light
but my head rests down
gritted teeth, not yours but mine
your state of heart I haven’t a clue

Beluga whisper by
ghostly, above and now descend
on top, my arms around
Beluga nestle
my collarbone, this jagged nook
and then I can breathe

Sail away
The song so far again
through misty blues
and sultry exhales
I can hear it still

I left unnoticed
guided safely
hair all fixed by your closeness
broke surface and exited
left behind that tank in practice
I did not look back

One day I will hear the Beluga
and the floods will come
of bowls and knives and soup and soap
of air back to my lungs

[Cheddars Cousin]

Broken Silence

I will never
understand
how the destruction
of something
so wonderful
so sacred
can be
not only
acceptable
but
desired

[Agonistes]

i dont write much poetry but i found a couple i had on my old-ass livejournal.





metalgirl




I'm the Metalgirl, i have shiny skin;
it's made of copper and rivetted tin.
Whenever I develop a boil,
it comes up like aluminum foil.

My skull is lined with platinum ore,
all sheeted by the platinum store;
I've nerves of steel, and lungs of iron,
and disks, to read you Poe and Byron.

Mercury run through my veins,
so please don't think it's weird or strange
when i say that your T.V.
reception can be changed by me.

I've parts from Germany and Paraguay
(my hair is silver, anyway)
I always stay out of the rain;
I've got a sparking, six-shift brain.

A nickle-plated cadmium bust,
in case my ribs should start to rust;
and diamond-gritted abs, because
I sharpen my shiny stainless claws.

I'm the Metalgirl, with polished ass
mirrored torso just like glass,
it's quite expensive, as you can bet;
clear metal's not on the market yet.

Antennae here, transistor there,
I might get tangled in your hair...
I'm airtight as a sardine can,
I have a hard drive exhaust fan.

So here i am, the Metalgirl,
programming my hair to curl.
I do not know but have been told,
I also have a heart of gold.









this was posted under the title, 'i'm bored.'

A is for Angie, who wasn't a dyke.
B is for Brooke, who purchased a bike.
C is for Charles, whose drag name was Sue;
D is for Dana, with a brand-new tattoo.
E if for Ed with his cellular phone,
F is for Fred, who tried not to moan.
G is for Gregory, snorting some coke---
H is for Henry, who preferred a toke.
I is for Issac, robbed by a trick...
J is for Judith, who didn't suck dick.
K is for Katie, hitchiking in rain;
L is for Linda, who jumped a freight train.
M is for Mark, who swam in a lake.
N is for Nick, jumping out of a cake.
O is for Oscar, richer than sin;
P is for Patty, who just lived on gin.
Q is for Queens, like Miss Sugarstarr
R is for Robert, who lived in his car.
S is for Sandy, who thought she was male.
T is for Thomas, who retched in a pail.
U is for Una, who didn't like femmes;
V is for Vinnie, and we ALL knew him.
W is for Walter, who hustled on twelfth...
X is for Xena DVDs on my shelf.
Y is for Yoni, who was named for a twat,
And Z is for Zandra, who cares for this not.

[Cheddars Cousin]

How very Jim Carroll of you.

Nice

[Cirque]

I wrote this last saturday night. It doesn't get much more transparent.
-------------------------

Strawberry fields in the hallway
a goodbye kiss at the door
I would have picked those berries
If I knew we’d kiss no more

Half cup hot, half cup cold
so many times I’d been told
so half glass vodka, half glass coke
Two months was the day it broke

Two months to the day
and every part of me has changed
the mattress imprint that I left
those field don’t look too kind on theft

and I can hear you in the halls
as my eyes bounce off white walls
you never touched me in that way
but silently with you I lay

Clammy skin and breathing deep
hold me, squeeze me, drift to sleep
go, no fields, no harvest due
miss him, leave, but I’ll miss you.

[Musings]

I used to write poetry.
I used to build men out of nouns and verbs,
Bring them to their knees,
Execute them in lines
With a click of my pen.

But now I'm the girl on the squad
Who doesn't shoot.
I admit it- I choke,
Thinking of the girl
I have at home.

When the smoke lifts,
I see the cold corpse,
Spilling out letters
From a hole in the head.

I'll fill it in with flowers,
Hope for the best,
One day I'll get it back,
Fire with the rest.

[Cirque]

Relating to the last 3 weeks, It's called Burnt Out

And I wake up inside these four white walls
and the streets below are burnt out photographs
I can’t see beyond the limiting light
and scarcely dressed I rise to tend to my coffee ring crew

The paper flowers in their corner desktop pot
beg me to join their happy stop-motion dance
but I soaked another pillow last night
so I’ll close the blinds
because I woke up so tired again
from spending my dreams dancing with you

I replay the same songs over
and my grades are going down
my chest isn’t getting any lighter
And the frame still burns the town

The thoughts play over
how can I feel so dark
when the windows can’t keep out the light
the ending light, burnt out again
so bright, so clean, envelopes everything
I can’t see further than the coffee rings
and now my vision blurs as I begin another pillow
and the warmth of light, angles and spreads
my body so warm, inside so cold

and I relate to everything
because I am at the centre
and I am so selfish when I can’t help
that I’m the only one that matters
And I can see these other people
because they replay how it shatters

the light is still here, it’s taking so long
when will darkness come
the voices on my stereo, drive my thoughts on home
and I’ll drift back away and find you where I land
from every glance I’ll take a meaning, every word you drip a call
and I’ll hate myself again for not being in command
for giving in, for letting go, for leaving bed at all.

[Cherry Chesterfield]

Those Three Words That Mean So Much


observation.

obsession.

oblivion.

[Cheddars Cousin]

OOO!

[Musings]

The circumstances under which we will speak.

You, wild eyed, skinny fingers,
Guitar on your back.
Me, buttoned up, hunkered down,
Briefcase overflowing.

Maybe to you I look like one of them,
Maybe to me you look like one of me.

In twenty years from now,
Your kid and mine,
They'll do this awkward dance.

They won't date.

I'd like to tell you things about my life
That only strangers should know.
I like to think that ten minutes
Is the start we've both been waiting for
To propel us further than this moment.

But.  Here we are.
Buttoned up and wild eyed,
ended before we even began.

"Excuse me, this is my stop."

[Cirque]

About two months ago I wrote these few lines and just had them saved under 'scrap' on my computer. I had forgotten about them and they seemed to just get stuck where they are, so when I found them I had the idea to just put them on a picture. The finished product seems a little 'art-douche' to me but oh well.
It's still pretty relevant so I don't care. Oh and credit to whoever's flikr I stole this picture from...whoever they were.

[Cirque]

I am stuck and I won’t leave
The broken skin refuses to bleed
I thought it was you between those two stones
but I mistook the reflection of my own bones

I am the railway track with rusted bolts
the final feather that will not moult
the splinter lost inside the finger
the fast food smell that’s going to linger
the unheatable lump in the lava lamp
the wheel caught up inside the clamp

I’m the key broken off inside the lock
try to turn, I’ll make it stop
the jigsaw piece that wouldn’t fit
I forced now it just won't lift

I’m the ears inside the walls
the coughing echo in the halls
the recurring dream inside your brain
the ball of hair clogged in your drain

I’m the barnacles underside the boat
the tickle caught deep inside your throat
the fade on all your paint decals
the water in your ear canals

the cage that keeps the bird from free
yet I’m only stopping me