A Proposition

I would propose that we keep this blog open, and continue to post in it, even though writer's workshop and (almost) high school are over. I know I write some poetry and stuff that I would like to share, and it would be nice to have an audience, however small.

Intimacy Yellow

I wish I could tell you,

Not with the manipulation of air and voice

Or the stain of soft charcoal on white pages,

But make you see without words so you understand

That I love trust like I long

For the smell of your skin

It’s somewhere hidden in my attraction,

The things my parents did and the combination

Of T, A, G, C that gives me blue eyes

Fondness of your fragrance

And an indomitable spirit but a body which was made

For reception

And perhaps my synesthesia has broadened—

For there is nothing about the word intimacy that isn’t

Pastel Easter Yellow and tasting of melted butter

And feeling of granted joy and longing,

Not of touch of skin or the scent of my adoration

But of absolute conviction;

Trust

The kind that lets me cage my soul

Like an intimacy-yellow tiny chirping bird

And gift-wrap it for—

Keep it, darling.

It sings.

15 Line Portrait

Write a portrait of a person, someone you know well.
Title: an emotion or color you associate with the person.
Each line must include the element listed.
1: Start the line with "You stand there", "No one is here", "in the memory, you...", "I think sometimes", "Your face is", or 'We had been".
2. Write a line with a color in it.
3. Write a line with a body part in it.
4. Write a line with a simile in it.
5. Write a line with 25+ words.
6. Write a line with 8 or less words.
7. Write a line with an article of clothing in it
8. Write a line with a wish in it.
9. Write a line with an animal in it.
10. Write a line where 3+ words alliterate.
11. Write a line with exactly two grammatically correct commas.
12. Write a line with both a smell and a color in it.
13. Write another line with a smilie
14. Write a line that could end in an exclamation point, but ends in a period.
15. Write a line with the word from the title in it.


Mine:

1. I think sometimes that you LIKE to suffer
2. Streetlights reflected yellow through the raindrops on the window,and you told me the end of the world flew through earthquakes
3. My lips let a sigh pass through their stoney walls
4. I want to scream "FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU," and bang my head against the glass till it broke, like a maddened bird
5. But I held the walls closed, and fled as soon as the car pulled to a stop. The radio still played the soft, soothing, music that rasped against my anger
6. A bow across the strings of a violin
7. And if you were a real Hindu, you'd be emotionally untouchable. An aesthetic wandering on bleeding feet, draped in rags.
8. And I wish that you could learn to love yourself, or maybe even me
9. If it weren't for your cats, you'd be totally alone
10. wallowing in your stubborn,self-inflicted sorrow
11. Maybe what you didn't do in your past life was LEAVE BEHIND the ton of straws that breaks your back every day
12. But if you were a camel, you'd be dead, roasted by the hot white sun, too stupid to find an oasis even as the sand covered the inside of your nose and mouth.
13. You've suffered as much as Michelangelo
14. Put down your paintbrush
15. And free me from my exasperation.

Sunglasses

The silver dollar clinked
against the bottom of the wishing well.
And I wished for a way
behind your honey-glazed smile
And smoky sunglasses.
But your shaded eyes
continued to keep me from knowing
If you were looking at me
or if your eyes were cast down.
And when I returned
to the moss covered wishing well
it was empty.
And I’m darker through sunglasses
than I am when the walls come down.

soil

I suppose I should say it's PG-13, except it all depends on how you interpret it. Ok, PG-13 because now that I've said that you're sure to read it that way. But you don't have to.

the softness of the kiss you use

to pull me ragdoll helpless into your arms

longing as I cannot comprehend to let you

let you

let you

but you won’t

politeness if you don’t mind

and I darling cannot find any other way

to open my heart and let a little more

pour to the ground except to ask you

pleading

to see inside my soul you and crawl

right inside of it the way that water finds the spaces

the spaces in soil and makes one thing

Desire

The views and opinions expressed do not necessarily represent those of the record company or its affiliates. This one is a bit PG-13. You know where it's at, Elie.

Desire
Desire is a fur coat
Soft and smooth on the outside
A silken fashion statement that begs for attention
begs to be stroked
satisfied.
Soft, muted colors
disguise something more dark and terrible
rough, dried skin lurks under the heavenly soft exterior
traces of blood hidden just under
the soft satin interior
waiting to be discovered
to be let into the air
when the silken fur falls away
and that hidden horror
will emerge with a decay with a violence
befitting its creation
and a frustration
befitting its time spent repressed.


That's right. It's multimedia.

I feel guilty for not posting anything.

Here are a few oldish poems.
The views and opinions expressed in interviews and commentaries do not necessarily reflect those of the record company or their affiliates.

The Worst Kind of Death

She wanted to die a tragic death
To be crushed in a freak landslide
Wanted rescuers to see a single, bloody hand emerging from the ruins of the mountain

She wanted to die a beautiful death
To fall from the top of a skyscraper
A dire raindrop in a dress of ivory Victorian lace, watched by desperate faces turned upwards

She wanted to die a harrowing death
To be found in the basement of a serial killer
Raped, gutted like a fish, throat cut, bound, gagged, lying pale in a pool of her own blood

She wanted to die an memorable death
To be found hanging in a park bathroom
By a group of unsuspecting teenagers who would be haunted by the sight for the rest of their lives

She wanted to die an unforgettable death
To be shot in a hostage situation on TV
Forced to her knees and shot in the back of the head, an example to law enforcement

She would have settled for a quiet death
Found in a bathtub with wrists slit
A fresh razorblade glinting on the floor, rusted with her drying blood

Or even an uneventful death
Found next to an empty bottle of pills
Sprawled on the floor like a broken, discarded, abused, forgotten toy

But instead, she died the worst kind of death
She died inside
Married an accountant, had two children, bought a golden retriever, a minivan, and attended bake sales

Lost and Found

1. I lost my heart to a girl in a club

where the neon lights

danced across her face

momentarily illuminating her weakness

7. I found a movie projector

buried in my boxes of things

and stayed up all night

watching us smile on the gritty wall

2. I lost my eyes

to the sheer beauty of autumn

when the vibrancy of the leaves

paled only in comparison to her smile

6. I found a snake

buried in my memories

who's quiet, gentle hissing

served to remind me it was all my fault

3. I lost my mind

and found myself locked

within the white walls of her sanatorium

screaming for attention

5. I found a new bar

very close to my new apartment

a new, exciting place

for my old stale addiction

4. I lost the keys to your apartment

I swear I left them

in the ripped pocket of her shirt

above the bruises

This one was in some issue of the Maverick. Based on Salvador Dali

La Persistencia de la Memoria

It's three in the morning

and time seems to slow

to an imperceptible rate

till the minute hands are barely moving

and I feel as if I am swimming

through the shadows of you

that creep up the walls

of my mind

silently haunting me

with the taste of your breath

the feel of your smile

The way your eyelashes rested against your cheek

when you slept beside me

casting minute shadows

across the hills and valleys of your face

Annnd a very short story.

100 Word Story (Inspired by 'Pet' by A Perfect Circle)

"Don't fret precious I'm here." Long fingers tangled in blond hair, moonlight shining through cold glass to illuminate the scene. "Step away from the window." The voice of seduction and pain reverberated around the dark room, powerful even when quiet. A threat lurked in it's dulcet tones, softened by a twisted form of love. The city stretched out below, human ants scurrying about on the sidewalk, unaware of the exquisite agony of their watcher. "Go back to sleep..." The blond turned from the freedom of night, obeying the voice by habit alone. There was no escape from this quiet asphyxiation.

Odd things about me:
1.I drink about 3 cans of lemon lime flavored sparkling water a day. I built an elephant out of the cans, once.
2.I feel an alarmingly strong sense of satisfaction every time I cross off an item in my planner, or get a little green check mark on web assign.
3.I sort candy before eating it. Usually blues, reds, and yellows stick around till last. Purple is always my least favorite.
4.I would rather be with cats then people.
5.For some reason, I can't think of any more, but I'm sure there's more.

Lyrics

I told you I needed help with my lyrics. I've written two songs now, and here are the lyrics that go with them. You can give me suggestions for improvement if you wish, if you read it before I sing it at the next meeting, or not.

Robin's Egg Blue:

Blue eyes of gold

Mine behold

All I see.

You see me true

Eyes of blue

Look inside of me

Please don’t be

So blue,

So Robin’s Egg blue

Mistakes like weeds

Off good, feed;

Listen and you hear

That all I know,

Is “let that go.”

Best intention’s clear

Clear like blue,

Clear blue,

So Robin’s Egg blue

Dear, touch my skin

And begin

You hold the key

To my heart so,

Please don’t go,

So far away from me.

Don’t go,

For I’ll be blue:

So Robin’s Egg Blue

Just a child:

Trying not to think of you

is trying not to breath

I’m holding in my tears

But now I must concede

This loss would be the death of me

And still I’d hate to live

But if I still had any left

I’d give and give and give.

I am just a child;

Just a fragile child.

Love it loves me cruelly;

Broken mirror’s glass

But self-examination, no,

Please I think I’ll pass—

Shattered shards shatter light

So the image bends and breaks

And loneliness like crowded rooms

Discontentment makes.

I am just a child;

Just a tiny child.

I’m searching for myself in words

That I never wrote

I’m building up a fire in

A rotted wooden boat

I’m searching for salvation

But I’m finding only sin,

The sin of sitting still in this

Stagnant state I’m in.

For I am still a child;

But I’m a growing child.

We are,

The Scribbler Society