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| space.. |
| 12.17.04 (11:09 pm) [edit] |
just some shit in the making...
i am nothing
but space
within space
infinitely, the same damned space
between your hand and my face
i have no race
i’m between dark and dumb
and egg white in chocolate
i’m some small part of all of it
i exist,
i don’t exist
i believe
i love and leave
truth is something
in between
virtue is just something we think need
i think, therefore, i am weak
to reality of nothing
i can’t grasp my non-existant existance
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| death card. |
| 11.09.04 (12:11 pm) [edit] |
Life has taken so much from me lately. I'm kinda feeling like I haven't got much left to lose.
I guess it'll soon be time to rebuild. Well, once I stop analyzing and figure out which way I want it to grow...
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| stupid |
| 09.06.04 (10:58 pm) [edit] |
again, i’m writing about a guy
and myself
and again, i’m writing while
sounding out silent words with my lips
so god doesn’t hear how
i really feel.
so, i’m writing
typing away really. with tears behind my eyes
thinking of how weak that is.
wondering what the hell is wrong with me
why am i so afraid to feel?
we used to lie in bed
and argue god
and quote vonnegut
we’d listen to music and
flirt.
we’d drink cheap beer and
laugh out loud when we burped during sex.
and my tears well up again behind my eyes
where my daughter can’t see them.
i told him i wanted committment
someday
and a daddy for her.
i left him
because i was afraid
i would leave him eventually
and i didn’t want to hurt him.
so i hurt myself
and I still don’t know where he stands.
would it have been better to have loved him and lost him?
or is it better that i miss him
and he’s somewhere else,
not being ripped apart by my confusion?
if i had ever let my self love,
would i still have lost?
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| drama lama |
| 08.29.04 (2:11 pm) [edit] |
I'm spinning around in circles.
Communication has died for the moment.
Spinning
a little girl
in a park
in the sun
toes in grass
spiral of sky forever.
thoughts don't make sense.
they don't even exist at this moment
mind-fucking. really.
what inspires us to conflict?
what makes miscommunication?
what rips our mental shoes off
and takes our minds for a spin?
for me, today, it's a boy.
i'd like to spin him so hard he comes to a realization.
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| fuck art |
| 08.22.04 (8:18 pm) [edit] |
I am
sitting here again
alone
on the patio
of the loudest bar in town
on saturday night.
all i can think of
is how beautiful people say i am
or how intimidating my intelligence is
and wondering why i’m still sitting here
completely fucking alone.
my cigarette butts are collecting on the table
because the waiter hasn’t noticed me yet
hasn’t brought an ashtray yet
“to create art means
to be crazy alone
forever.”
hey Chinaski-
you prophetic mother fucker
I know what you mean.
I should have met you
smoked a cigarette with you
we could have ignored each others
beauty together.
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| magnetic poetry proverbs |
| 08.16.04 (12:05 pm) [edit] |
currently assembled in a pie tin;
~thinking of how weak
you are behind your play
~an ugly cry
like she shot me
~I love and soar
~your winters sleep like mother.
~black could elaborate
~lathered visions
~gorgeous enormous pink feet
~the apparatus of eternity
~sausage together
~manipulate delirious whispers
~blow my lie
~frantic pound puppy shake
~part white dress smear
~worship like mad
~never ask about the sag of a man fluffer
~sad men here.
~my lazy boy & I
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| self analysis |
| 08.10.04 (8:31 pm) [edit] |
I always write poetry
about men
about how
I loved or hurt or hated
or how I still want to throw up when thinking
of sex with some of those
old lovers
or those broken hearts
of men.
my heroin
my satisfying secret addiction that everyone saw traces of.
The reason I’m admired
as a single mother is
just my habit
my weak point and
my focal point.
men. my heroin. my necessary addiction-
they drop like flies in my eyes.
like syringes hitting the floor
I’d always think this one was better than any before
for a while
until I lost interest
or forgot the intellectual stimulation I once required
I thought I was just picky and deserved better than
what I ended up with every single time.
but I never minded
not then.
it was like taking asprin for a little hangover
then
going out drinking again
I liked being the one who left them behind for a change
let them deal with being hurt and lost
let them fall insanely in love
while I walked away disinterested
it never eased my pain from
not feeling loved enough
or appreciated enough as a woman with something to offer.
I’m the weaker sex and I know it
I know how hard I can crush someone’s hope.
I don’t cry because I’m hurt now. I cry for hurting every
beautiful man that has crossed my path.
I hurt now because since my birth, I remember neglect.
I remember I’d look up in admiration
at everyone I knew and
they would walk away.
I have never felt a deep enough love
not from my parents not anyone.
in my unlearned and sorry attempt,
i still open my mouth to say hello and
watch people I love
walk out of the room
as if they never knew I was there.
until I found men.
my heroin.
my cover-up for lack of emotion
the needle supplies track mark only to cover old scars.
they love me because I demand it so.
and they love me deep enough
to get my revenge on something they were never a part of.
never did I find a man unwilling to love me for free
men.
those poor men
all of that pain
and
I don’t even know what love is.
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| wimp |
| 08.06.04 (6:02 pm) [edit] |
I’ve had a headache
for a couple weeks
every morning I wake up
feeling like I’ve been heavily drugged
the antibiotics
didn’t help
neither did the nasal spray
my head if full of something
they just don’t know if it’s a tumor
or snot.
I know
it hurts and
I’m scared
to know anything else
i don’t take my daughter
out often because i’m always tired
I just don’t want everyone
knowing I feel like shit all the time
I dont' want to know if they'd even
believe me
I took my girl to the park
to feed ducks yesterday
a woman was there with her
three kids
and one arm.
she had scars
all over her neck and shoulders.
she chased her wobbly baby
while her 2 other kids
ran to close too the street
she safely contained them all and drove them home
and left me there wondering
how the hell she cooks dinner for four
or lowers her pants to shit.
I bet she can do anything
better
than my lame attempts
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| bukowski in a cab |
| 08.05.04 (9:51 pm) [edit] |
he says i'm cute when i sleep
and my name is really cute too
and he's a single parent
his daughter, she writes poetry
really well too
for sixteen
he'll bring some
for me to read
next time he picks me up
from my boyfriends house
at 4am
to take me home
to sleep off my alcohol
and shower away the smell of great late night sex
he's really nice, this cab driver
not like the others.
he asked me once
if i carried pepper spray like most girls
i said no
and slid out
my butterfly knife
held it up in view of the rear view mirror
he gave me his cell number so i can call for him directly
too late at night.
now i just call another cab company
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| luna(poe)tic |
| 08.05.04 (8:31 pm) [edit] |
Take the quiz: "What Kind of Soul Do You Retain?"
Loving
You have a very warm and loving aura about your soul and believe in the virtues of Love. To you, there is a bright side to everything! You are the polar opposite of the Dark soul.
isn't that cute....
Sean and I went to that poetry reading and it sucked. there was all of 10 people this time. All but maybe three were published and carrying around their books. Bahhhh...
After the reading, we had beers. Then went to his place.
We listened to music most of the night, he even shared some of his work with me. I stood amazed.
Today, Lilah and I played outside most of the gray morning. Then we went to Copperfield's and I bought another Bukowski, she got a dinosaur book.
She's spinning dizzily in a chair with my brother and my mom is watching them completely absorbed as a mother with her child and grandchild. I'm am going to go read my Bukowski and write like a lunatic.
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| david blain vs. rene descartes |
| 08.03.04 (10:21 am) [edit] |
Just when I was going to complain about my new guy, he suprises me. Shuts me up.
Since we got together, our debates have settled, our arguements became laughter, and when we hang out now we do one of 2(maybe three) things together. I don't want to settle into a comfortable silence...
I saw him last night with the intent of bringing up some debate just so I can argue. Just so we had conversation. But alas, I show up and he's educating his buddy on Existentialism. So, he includes me and we talked.We talked about "miracles". And on non-local communication, empathetic animals, on god, on sex, they played some beats for me with lyrics that he was utterly impressed by, so I trashed them with reason. It's all about Rene Descartes and his box. LOL
Tonight, if I have a sitter, we're going to a poetry reading. I haven't written a damn thing in a long time.
I guess that's what I'll be doing today- coming up with something witty enough to impress the poet laureates. Weee....
wish me luck and inspiration! haha!
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| sweet jesus. |
| 08.01.04 (9:15 pm) [edit] |
I go to church sometimes. A baptist one. However, I'm not christian. I went tonight to learn. I've currently been working on a foreign language and reading avidly. I think going to church reconfirms my morals. Each sermon is a reminder of how I'd like to live my life. Though, tonight there was a guest speaker and I felt so sedated in that pew, I think I may have almost dozed off. I walked out to the parking lot for a smoke and some space, but something struck me as illogical.
There was a car in the lot with a plate holder that says to serve jesus.
Interesting to me anyways. I thought this religion believed in serving God? Jesus dies for sins, right? If you're serving Jesus, does that mean that you're sinning your ass of so that his cruciFICTION had a purpose?
I'm still dwelling on the concept.
In other parts of my life..... Lilah is growing up so fast. She'll be three on the 24th. She says her daddy is going to get her a new shovel and bucket for the garden. I'm still trying to figure out how to explain that her daddy is signing off his parental rights.
Maybe mommy will get her the gardening tools.
Sean and I are doing great. We partied last night a little. We spent time drinking at his house with a friend, then went to the bar a couple blocks away, then came home and drank more. His friend Travis was the funniest thing I've seen in a while. He passed out on the living room floor with headphones on, a bottle of Sam Adams, and a bottle of VO in his arms, sunglasses on his eyes and his hat still secure on his head. He looked happy.
I stumbled out of the cab to my door around 4 am. Where my mother informed me my brother got home right before me just as trashed. Ahh... the end of sibling rivalry LOL. At least we can agree to something right?
Lilah just fell asleep and I have my 2nd Dan Brown book to read before Sean gets here. *insert giddy screech*
Books and an existentialist in a kangol. What a good night I've got coming...
And might I add, what a shitty first blog haha!
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