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A Pocketful of Poetry: Uncut
The pen is poised, impatient for inspiration to strike.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
. Black Cats and Oranges.
Twisting through the midnight streets, we meander,
Touching any hope floating by.
The shadow of a tree makes me
pause. My eyes lean in and when they wrap themselves
around the little sunset globes, I cry.
I hate oranges.
Look, there are plastic stars resting on all the fences;
I wrestle them.
I lose and I sigh.
Black cats yowl, the yellow, hollow
O's of their eyes pulling me into the darkness.
I take a step back.
I'm on the outside now. I can taste it.
I'm walking alone, a single solider,
leading but not the leader,
but it's alright.
Touching any hope floating by.
The shadow of a tree makes me
pause. My eyes lean in and when they wrap themselves
around the little sunset globes, I cry.
I hate oranges.
Look, there are plastic stars resting on all the fences;
I wrestle them.
I lose and I sigh.
Black cats yowl, the yellow, hollow
O's of their eyes pulling me into the darkness.
I take a step back.
I'm on the outside now. I can taste it.
I'm walking alone, a single solider,
leading but not the leader,
but it's alright.
buttons
All You Can Think,
black cats,
midnight,
outsider,
stars
Thursday, December 24, 2009
.Anonymous Numbers.
You loved me once and maybe I loved you too. I don't know. I love a lot of people. We
Used to sit on rooftops smoking for the stars, for the dawn, for each other. I think we
Misplaced a whole month of sleep. That's for how long I loved you. I don't know if you
Loved me longer. Maybe. I don't know. I've been loved by a lot of people. Perhaps you
Thought you loved me. That happens a lot. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, I
Think of the numerical buildings you used to draw. I think I understand them better now. I
Think I understand more better now. I think that maybe now I am just a number to you.
That's alright with me, you know. I just wanted to say that it made me sad to see you
And feel distant enough to avoid a hello. You've been inside me, I thought. Once, when we
were two numbers in the same building. What made me sadder still was not that we
are strangers now. In fact, it had nothing to do with you at all. I was floating, rapt up in my own world. I
Thought I was a stranger. I saw you see me and then I was more than just I.
Someone saw me and suddenly I wasn't anonymous.
Used to sit on rooftops smoking for the stars, for the dawn, for each other. I think we
Misplaced a whole month of sleep. That's for how long I loved you. I don't know if you
Loved me longer. Maybe. I don't know. I've been loved by a lot of people. Perhaps you
Thought you loved me. That happens a lot. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, I
Think of the numerical buildings you used to draw. I think I understand them better now. I
Think I understand more better now. I think that maybe now I am just a number to you.
That's alright with me, you know. I just wanted to say that it made me sad to see you
And feel distant enough to avoid a hello. You've been inside me, I thought. Once, when we
were two numbers in the same building. What made me sadder still was not that we
are strangers now. In fact, it had nothing to do with you at all. I was floating, rapt up in my own world. I
Thought I was a stranger. I saw you see me and then I was more than just I.
Someone saw me and suddenly I wasn't anonymous.
buttons
All You Can Think,
Love and Other Ghosts,
numbers,
outsider,
strangers
.History.
Throw down that bottle but the paper tiger will still grin. Stamp on it
To shatter your simmering secrets. Don't forget to use protection:
I have scars on my souls that will make your toes curl like lace. Make
Sure you put that bitch down! Scrape off every label with every burning word.
Use his limbs like toothpicks, casual as a cowboy; peel him like a mandarin;
Toss his skin, Suck his flesh, Spit it out; throw a fistful of leaves into his folding face.
When you're through, crawl off into the sunset. And for god's sakes,
Try not to throw up this time.
To shatter your simmering secrets. Don't forget to use protection:
I have scars on my souls that will make your toes curl like lace. Make
Sure you put that bitch down! Scrape off every label with every burning word.
Use his limbs like toothpicks, casual as a cowboy; peel him like a mandarin;
Toss his skin, Suck his flesh, Spit it out; throw a fistful of leaves into his folding face.
When you're through, crawl off into the sunset. And for god's sakes,
Try not to throw up this time.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
.Mirrors In My Hair.
When I was
born
they wanted me
to remember
who I was
Always
so
they put
mirrors in my hair
so
now
every time I think
I am looking
up
I am actually
looking
down.
born
they wanted me
to remember
who I was
Always
so
they put
mirrors in my hair
so
now
every time I think
I am looking
up
I am actually
looking
down.
.It Was Just A Poke.
Lovers folding, heartbeats fluttering like a flock of a thousand sparrows.
Toes twitch as static lips finger the fine lines between staccato kisses.
I make you try, diamond hard, for me, a meek kitten, as I roar from one too many
Licks. Come, run your change of hips by me, swinging from cold to hot so easily,
you stupid ape. Draw me like a magnetic ace, the winning card you
Pretend you don’t want. Fill me, yet another hole, as if I wasn’t gaping
enough. I have my own spade, thank you.
A simple pout pulls the upper hand but
I’m laden, and you are no gentleman, and there is no concierge for this.
Lord I would love to club that silly smirk off your dick.
Toes twitch as static lips finger the fine lines between staccato kisses.
I make you try, diamond hard, for me, a meek kitten, as I roar from one too many
Licks. Come, run your change of hips by me, swinging from cold to hot so easily,
you stupid ape. Draw me like a magnetic ace, the winning card you
Pretend you don’t want. Fill me, yet another hole, as if I wasn’t gaping
enough. I have my own spade, thank you.
A simple pout pulls the upper hand but
I’m laden, and you are no gentleman, and there is no concierge for this.
Lord I would love to club that silly smirk off your dick.
buttons
dick,
heartbeats,
holes,
kiss,
Love and Other Ghosts,
sparrows,
Stupid Girl,
Temper Temper
.Overthought.
Delicate and drunk I wander a
garden of dreams, bitter flowers twisting,
petals ripping at the seams, and I
yawn, silent indignance at the
sweet flickering shadow sneaking around
the edges. This garden is not round, it does not
roll, but it is dough in the hands of the weak.
Helpless and raw, I smile still, my tongue
beating in the cave of my words,
manipulated, like the tune of the
thousandth fiddle. One lazy lick and I blow over like
gossip, all the while winter whispering in its milky rasp,
‘You are awake.’
garden of dreams, bitter flowers twisting,
petals ripping at the seams, and I
yawn, silent indignance at the
sweet flickering shadow sneaking around
the edges. This garden is not round, it does not
roll, but it is dough in the hands of the weak.
Helpless and raw, I smile still, my tongue
beating in the cave of my words,
manipulated, like the tune of the
thousandth fiddle. One lazy lick and I blow over like
gossip, all the while winter whispering in its milky rasp,
‘You are awake.’
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All You Can Think
bed
black cats
body heat
books
bruises
bullshit
coffee
comebacks
constellations
cowboys
dancing
darkness
dick
dream
drunk
eyes
fire
flowers
freak
heartbeats
holes
Hope
kiss
kisses
laughter
lick
lips
Love and Other Ghosts
midnight
mirror mirror
naughty
numbers
on the shelf
outsider
owls
pearls
pedicures
piano
pride
reflection
relfection
secrets
shadow
skies
skin
skull
smile
smoking
sparrows
stars
stones
strangers
strawberries
Stupid Girl
sunglasses
sunsets
Temper Temper
the Blues
the lemon tree
tongue
ugly
velvet
waiting
whistling
wine
winter
wishing
Word Poodles
Le Petit Biographie
- Alexia
- I laugh, I live, I think, I write (not necessarily in that order)... padam, padam indeed, Ms. Piaf. This poetry is almost always spontaneous and almost rarely edited.