laughs

there are many within me
they vary by day
they change with the wind
or the person or say
ing that comes right along
with the quip, quirk or smile
and often they seem
to make it all just worth while

The Laying On Of Hands

the laying on of hands
what makes them think its ok
to take her form and change it
to take their inner out on her outer
who let them think that its ok
to bruise and batter and beat
to strike
to take on the space and form of someone else
in a completely non consensual, non respectful
downright dissembling manner
God, who ever led them to believe it is in any way O-K
who could have led them in that thought
and beyond, no one to have corrected
re-addressed the mis education
I am angry at them
At the violent and their teachers
I am SO ANGRY at them
for their actions and their continuing of this mis guided methodology
my anger stands up on my words
and from my podium of prose i shout

UNTIL THE VIOLENCE STOPS
http://www.vday.org/

~Vanilla Vagina Warrior

..something new..

something new and changing
in this different, different world
growing, going, showing
more a woman than a girl
unsure, unwise, unstable
but keep going none the less
eventually ill figure out this life
this akward, blooming mess

umm..

poetic
inconsistencies

different kind of thing..

its a different kind of thing
and im liking it quite fine
id say its not the kind of thing that poems are written about
but that would make my each keystroke a lie
and liar am i not
its quite nice
i like it fine
lets ride it out
lets ride on out

I Am Worthy Again...

..To Wear My Own Sexiness

oh yes....

somewhere inside
i probably should be crying
should probably feel more broken
more torn
more in two
but i dont let myself
get broken
never never never ever never
wont cant wont, nope

ill let you in
im not guarded
im not that
im not a scorpio
im an open book
you're free to read
and make notes in my margins
highlight my pages
add lines, pages, chapters
or not
i dont shut you out
thats not my safety feature
not my self-preservation function

i dont hope
i dont plan
i keep, or try to keep
from thinking any further than the now
or a few nows from now

i let myself hope for more with him
i let myself want regularity
i let myself let go of the cool
of the me who is just enjoying
she was still there
but she was joined by the hope
the, well maybe
we'll see
.fucker.
shes the one who did me in
because even though im stupid
wasnt blind sighted
or treated bad in anyway
because she was there
because she came to stay
and talk
and linger linger linger
long after i had wanted my thoughts to cease
to that end
she doomed me
doomed me to minor sadness at the words of it
at the sound of the
we shouldnt do this anymore
its all her fault
and i hate that girl
and shes a part of me
and i hate it still and more and greater

Expiration Date..

I
apparently
have a shelf-life
of approximately
a month and a half.


and,
please feel free to further inquire.


thank you.

If A Sneeze..

is 1/8 of an orgasm
Im half way there

this girl brain of mine...

somethings wrong
somethings wrong with this girl brain of mine
refund, store credit, or exchange?
i cant turn it off
i cant turn it on
i cant attempt to rearrange
the priorities
the presets
the lame lingering what ifs
of the things beyond my control
and my knowing
my knowledge
beyond comprehension
which just ask me, goes to show
that this girl brain of mine is completely defunct
defective, infected, obscured
and if you are offering
i'll glady receive
and take
and do
any cure

Great Words...

Shtupping
Zamboni
Snarky
Twitterpated
Goober

life is not this..

life is not your plans
life is not your dreams
life is the shit you do to get you through
and the shit you go through
that makes you want to escape to what you like to call
your life
life is moving so fast, and no going anywhere
doing so much, busy all the time, and accomplishing nothing
life is no longer about your dreams
no longer about goals or what you can achieve
its about getting through
getting past, getting on

and i dont want it to be that

i want it to be good
not easy not pretty but good
good in a real way
i dont want to cry to my mother
im so glad i can, i hate that i did
but i dont want to
i dont want life to be that for me
i want it to be my adventures
even if those adventures seem mundane to you
i want it to be good
i want this next step to be in the right direction
and i want the bottom to fall out
so i can fall on the friends i have
and the strength ive found
but i dont want this
this bullshit teetering on the edge of nothing
not achieving
no locomoting

life is not this
i cant let it be
its that optimist i swallowed awhile back
she just wont digest

if you want it, come get it..

the things i think of you
are the kind of things you cant share
the things that you tell no one
not even the person you tell when you "tell no one"
not even them
because the things i think of you are carnal
the things i think of you are luscious and lascivious
and completely appropriate
i should not think these things about you
and me.
thats the part
the you
and me.
and me...
thats the thing about them
the thing that makes the so untellable
so untold
because i scarcely allow myself to think them
myself to think them all the way through
i dont
i dont, but i want to.
and why, why stop your thoughts
who's gonna find out
when im driving alone in my car
who is going to know about the things im thinking about
the things, that if you did to me, with me that would..
but it stops.
i dont want it to stop.
i dont.
i want it to keep, keep keep, going
going to a place where i cant even write about it...almost
i still want to write it
but i Want to go there
in my mind
with you
and me.
i want that.
i want it with both.
or rather, all three?
plus one more, the self, and four.

For...

Philosophically turbulent to the point of
Hysterics hypothetically hindering the literary
Infiltration of classical structures which would only be used with
Lascivious license to create chaos anew

Stream of Conscience...

Ive used the ‘help me Im a girl’ excuse more in the past month then I think I have ever in my entire life. Its almost as if my super-amazonian overcompensating complex has died down, and Im not quite sure how I feel about that. I mean, the major motions are still intact. I still wont cry in front of boys. Refuse. I will physically stop myself, or run away. Run away! If I am in anyway in contest with a boy, I must win. Verbally, win, mentally win! I must, I must. And its always been a thing of CAN DO, and ew, dont think just cuz Im packing the vah-jay-jay that means I cant do x-y-z. I can do it all! Especially if anyone packing a penis says I cant. Or shouldnt or what have you. I am Wonder Woman. But lately I falter. I use the feminine as an out.

Fantastical Weekend..

..of doom
..in space

-----

For the record, I have officially (and finally) been sucked into Firefly, which rocks...Oh Joss Whedon..grr, arg. And if you dont understand the 'grr, arg' then you havent watched any Joss Whedon shows, and for you I am terribly, terribly sorry.

Swing dancing in the city = amazing fun..of doom
Not feeling 3rd wheely for the first time in life = new and exciting..in space


And there is a certain black leather couch that has become my downfall
And I couldnt be happier
A certain twin bed to be crunched in
And I couldnt be happier
A black zip-up hoodie I almost made off with
If I had it I might be just a bit happier
Omelettes and waffles and kick-ass conversation
Opening doors and car rides and emotional deliniation
Cooing and closeness, to tell on would make you gag
But this seems like a good one, a most lucky snag

Is it

Friday yet?

a.d.o.r.e.

I dreamed this once
I dreamed you
Or a version of you
I dreamed of perfect timing
And honest words
And warm embraces and passionate kisses
I dreamed this once
I dreamed a place
A place someone would see the parts of myself
That I couldnt always
Wouldnt always
A place safe secret and shared
A common place
I swear I dreamed this once
I dreamed a time of only moments
A time of strung together memories
The good ones you go back to
I dreamed them streamline
I did
I dreamed this once
I
Dreamed
This once
And looking forward towards a dream is so much different then looking back to one
And looking out of it is scary because the rules you have are not your own but different ones
And looking at the words you send sends such feeling throughout all of me
And looking at you means you’re close enough to touch and i’m there and thats all
I dreamed this once
I swear I did
I swear I dreamed this once
Dont - wake - up

tummy flutter-bys

a scrap... with a stolen line

when a heart sings
upon the wings
of 'fumes of lovers sighs'
it also beats
peering at great feats
as such the look within his eyes

-----

if time were my mistress
and and i could instruct her every movement
i would cause her to fly
cause her to fly with all swiftness between each time
i could kiss you
so that weeks would seem no more than hours
and hours like minutes themselves
but no so fast a seconds
for though i lust and long
and with time 'neath my reign
could do away with any unpleasantness of length
and serve to lengthen each time you brush the hair from my face
to reveal some coy expression of adoration and thanks
to all together do away with the spaces twixt the Divine moments
would soften their effect and belittle their pedestal
so if time were my mistress
i would cause her to fly
straight toward the nights
of just you and i

Three Tall Women

..is the play I am reading
written by Mr Edward Albee
and I am on page 27 of 110
and highly engrossed thus far

and I would like to share
a quote from the authors introduction

"And I know that my present self is shaped by as much self-self deception as anyone else's, that my objectivity's are guided by the maps I myself have drawn..
..Writers have the schizophrenic ability to both participate in their lives and, at the same time observe themselves participating in their lives"

Delightful!

::le sigh::

searing memory of lover's lips
still feeling them there
wishing they still were
each smoldering touch engrained
and replayed
and replayed

this acute memory, both blessing and curse
to long for the thing that was
and will be again
but to live and long and lookback

<3

to old loves
to love loves
to new loves

Happy Valentines Day, love .

a girl named Me

once upon a time
there lived a girl named Me
who prized herself on being
a very social bee
present at all parties
dancing night to noon
smiling, always smiling
and crazy as a loon
bee-girl's mad as a hatter
twice as colorful to boot
and sweeping through her life thus far
shes picked up lots of loot
her treasures, yes they tell us
of her adventures near and far
of her triumphs, joys and laughter
of her secrets and her scars
the very busy lady
a woman and a girl
making each day count
in this gorgeous, mixed up world

f

a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
a
l
l
i
n
g
.

Oy..

its as if they were starring at me
as if everyone in that room was starring at me
each eye bore-ing into me
leaving indentaions in each part of me
parking their personal preconceptions all over me
alloting their analysis respectivly to every parcel
slice, sliver, segment
fragment, each element of my entity
each bit of me
excinded
dissevered
by the scrutinous ogling





...i hate it when my skirt's tucked into my tights

Epic Poem Teaser...

Im working on something
be teased
be very teased


..i love how i write like people will read
i guess its that internal light-bulb
that crazy optimist that i swallowed that one time
she just wont digest..

2-4-07

choose to indulge, do all things
run around, play on swings
sing those songs, dance that dance
eat too much, jump on beds
sleep naked and dont warn the people you live with
spend way to much money on gas making visits
take extra long showers
talk to your best friends for hours
sleep in all day, have a roll in the hay
read the same book three times
color outside the lines
each day for a week eat chocolate at dawn
everychance that you get, give a hug to your mom
tell your teddybear secrets
jump in puddles with new sneakers
and kiss 'neath the moon in the rain
-----

parchment paper holds your secrets.
secrets written by moon and candle-light.
secrets sealed with wax and rings and hidden away
from the light of day, these papers seem ordinary
in everyway, but one.
the penmanship, the slipp'ry style that encodes the work
will not give an inch; so unforgiving.
to steal away a phrase, a sweet sonnet
or any inkling into the soft secrets kept there
would be a most impossible undertaking.
your caligraphic ways have incarcerated all puzzles
so that none can come to the enlightenment
which is supposed upon the hidden papers.
'neath it all, hope lives that its not a fraud.
-----

this dame's got issues
shes got her fair share of stomped upon
her own personal helping of fet-up
and more bull-shit than she has storage space
this broad's got problems
she's been down that road before
so her views are skewed
but she's got cover-up to hide the scars
this doll's a mess
this skirt must confess
some where inside, she's a lady
-----

there is something wrong
something so desperately wrong
so terribly incredibly wrong that it enraptures thought
enraptures thought, creativity and all expendetures of time
of time, breath and energy of all kinds
maitaining sway, total authority of introspection and rumination
for a thing so unacertained to assert prolonged gross, totalitarian reign
engenders something akin to perpetual, eternal madness

2-2-07

'never has so dangerous a thing been so delightful'
lies, and she knew it
but she'd never been drawn to it before, to something she shouldnt
color inside the lines-wait your turn girl
smile politely-listen and learn girl
not this
NOT this
not waiting and wishing and hoping on things
things hidden and secret and scared
-----

cursed communication device
your ringing will be my end
for sanity's sake, the only hope
is for a time with space and peace
over and over again
merciless master you are
i know i dare not go far
your lament will follow me where're i am
-----

he sits in his study
away the weary hours fly
time flees,
her tell is the lowering of the the golden shadows on the wall
a need for incandescence arises
-----

what is it about the dulcet tone of a man's voice
that alluring resonance
the delectable, otherwise intoxicating bass
which causes conversing to become carnal
each utterance
inflection
articulation
illicits prurient predilections from my fleshy form
sensational response undulating through my abdomen
a sense of sudden...

i need to work on finishing things
some any way
i would especially wanna work on this last one

I looooooove....

Regina Spektor
..now theres a writer and fantasical musical poet

::le sigh::

..I, uh... have something to say?

karma is a bitch
and the balance of the universe pisses me off
because while all you hear about is harmony and unison
all you get is discord and strife
(gonads & strife, gonads & strife, gonads & strife...just me?)

anywho
i am a freaking lucky female
L-U-C-K-Y
I have a kick-ass family, not perfect, but kick ass
I have the GREATEST friends and social-whatever..
I know what I love in this world/want to do forever
Im not so dumb to know i wont have to work at/for it

-im blessed-

but im human
so i chose to take this moment to dwell on the have-not
cuz im just a little bit emo, way deep down inside
and frankly, blogs were made for this
MADE says i
goo.


ok....cop-out
im not that emo
i cant bitch about it
(it by the way is boys and all that they entangle)
and i want to share
but with people on the real
or rather, specific

so ACTUALLY
this is a cry for help
on a very 13-yr old level
ask me about my problems and pretend to care!
(we're such a culture of that)

and
thats it.
im done.
i swear.




oooh wait
and im a raging feminist.
and by that i mean
that im raging within myself
to find out exactly what that means.


real, for really-real end.

2-1-07

ensuing writing frenzy
take 2!
-----
scalding my mind
the memory of those silver stars
it was cold and there was only heat
maybe it wasnt so cold, as much as i was quivering
that feeling of uncontrolled electric energy
ripping through your body with abandon inside
but only a shiver without -- and still the stars
Orion's belt so clearly sparkling, only mocks me now
crystal winter sky, night sky, the north wind's sense of humor
winter sky, my favorite, now only teases an unfulfilled summer
-----
all i have at my disposal is a poor man's vocabulary
a cursory knowledge of things superior
i lack the strength to stand with the quill
my modern voice rings out as a sour note
comparison leads to discord
but i lust after elevated language
after the elevated pen and its master
analogy will lead to invalidation
and still the ubiquitous nature of the proprietor of the pen placates as much as arrests
how 'bout that
to write is to mirror with flourish and insight
to bestow upon the clay of colloquialism an idiosyncratic notch
-----
run her fingers over the pages
her own personal braille
ridges telling the story of her days
upon the shattered sheets of trees
colored poisons spin her adventures
-----
bruise
a beautiful bruise
cherry-red purple bruise
tender raw and perfect
broken and beautiful

1-31-07

a writing frenzy ensued, thanks/curses
to a boy we shall call...Phil, for that is his name
additionally goo.
-----
looking thru the window, rather
looking past it for the clearest view as clear as it can be for him right now
even if he gets past the window
to start his viewing fresh on the other side of the pane
the pain still taints it, all of it
shivering branch of birch
icy crunchy slush
raindrops rolling-down rubber
and every woman walking by
who still isnt
her.
-----
a thunder clap in the throat
gale force from the diaphragm
agape the violent-red aperture
he must have said something funny
-----
blue birds dont sing for this
but green grass will grow
she'll stay upon that kiss
and he'll never know
-----
just the manic scribblings of a half-genius girl in a zany mad-cap world who's trying to make her mark on the scratch-free surface of this world, with a tiny diamond ring and hope
-----
all she ever knew was simple chaos. and maybe thats why she couldnt let go. she didnt know how to be happy in a contented, TV movie, pearls & teddy bears kind of way. she knew how to be happy in the cracks. happy, is the space between the crazy. certainly everyone knows that. everyone in her world.. so what if there was no longer any crazy? what then would define happy? so she found herself ways to bring the crazy back from its mid season hiatus. why not be particularly cranky, rude, argumentative, sulky, snide, and miserable? 'cuz after all, whats the calm after the storm without that storm? this is the particular brand of reasoning that comes along with simple chaos.
-----
make believe and lets pretend
upon a world of my own wonders
and wonders and thinks shared only with the heart
by heart is meant hormones of course
coarse are the realities of my un-make believe
not so pleasant as our own intentions
and everyone knows autumn springs forth from summer's winter

Reincarnated Creations plus Something Fairly New

Friday Nite -- Fall 2001

Sleeping bodies lying quietly
soft, warm, comforting
sweet, truthful moments
beautiful, absolutely beautiful
i feel
waking in his arms
eyes, deeply, drowning
brown, black, boundless
quiet
stillness, silent, blinking
staring, hoping, wanted
know my thoughts, please know
your lips, my lips, glancing
the split second
you move, I'm there
meeting, joining, meeting, parting
sublime
smiling, breathing, tingling, butterflies
breath, smell, scent
solidify the memory
closer, pulled ever closer
thank you
touching, holding, being
wanted
push the covers from my face
beautiful, could you make me feel more beautiful
sweet, thoughtful
somehow it all goes right
smiling, lying in his arms, in his bed
close, comfortable, wonderful
blessed chance
sweet remembrance
knowing not the length of this
but now there is hope
if not for us
than for me
sublime hours
come again to me.

one of my very first big girl works
one of the few things that (though in different ways) i still like as much as when i wrote it
- - - - -

M.P.-- 2005

municipal parking.
or thats what it said
anyway.
iridescent tangerine paper sun,
pristine crumbled cotton ball high above the highway,
below cocoa crumbled
blueberry soda
orb.
municipal parking...
who could come down from a day like today
with a sign
so pedestrian.
municipal parking,
who knew.

i wrote this when was working at the diner
oh how things come to you in the strangest places
- - - - -

writer...

one day ill pretend to be a writer
for its a part i've yet to play (one of many)
i should think it would be fun, though arduous
for to play a writer is not to be one
and its is always fun to be something
someone
for sometime
because you know you can change back (hopefully)
and arduous, firstly because it is a vocabulary word
and secondly because of its meaning
and thirdly, because of the toil
the toil-ing with words
to sandwich them like a deli worker
to paint them like an undergraduate studio art major
to add them like high school math regents
to shape them like a glass-blower
to sing them like Paulo Nutini (le sigh)
one day i shall be a writer
even though its a part i've played
i play the part in secret
for when you are not labeled as a thing
you cannot be judged by it (hopefully)
so inside lives this 'writer'
who it would seem
is actually a critic, after all

What I'm Told

So apparently to be a writer
you have to share
your crap
and non crap
and other stuff too

Im not sure I am
Ive never really labeled myself as such
in fact, Ive often said
-yea, but Im not a writer-

There was a fantastic exchange of words about...6 years ago
Oh Harrison, you were.are wonderful

So I suppose this will be the new habit
with any luck of course