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Literature
Levies and Hides
I want our lives to be intertwined with no bumps,
No flaws,
No faults,
No fraying.
I used want to keep my heart in it's place,
Strongly secured by my guttural, gregarious fears.
My prehistoric fears.
Yet, the thick outer hide my heart had formed developed a weak spot,
A peep-hole.
But this bump has put my fears to work,
Patching the leak,
Shoring up the flood wall.
I will stop the pouring of the cement,
The tanning of the leather,
I will let a hurricane of emotion break the levies and let my heart start to grow again.
But you have to go into the dark room,
And expose a picture of your own guarded and defended chest,
Then I will trust you.
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Literature
Te Quiero...I think
I have been awake for an hour now
thinking of you.
I thought I wanted laughter that rolled along in the breeze with my hair,
And my arms held up as I screamed how I was free.
I wanted to be like a convertible with its top down
and the warm summer sun permeating me from the inside out
I've been awake for an hour now
thinking of you.
And I wonder if I want to
smell you on my clothes when I take them off at night and
speak bilingually. Can you coax my shy heart? Can you bring me
out into the world I've always wanted to be in?
I've been awake for an hour now
and te quiero... I think.
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Literature
13 heart, 17 part
"Are you lovesick?"
"No."
It was only a half lie then,
The aftertaste of daydreams and old, familiar feelings
"Are you lovesick?"
"No."
It's no lie.
Not an alibi to comfort both of our fears.
I wonder,
How many days will it take me to realize
How many months I will block
the taste of love in my mouth, in my fingers, in my eyes
I never knew the "safety" of my 13-year-old heart
How it keeps me "protected" from the 17-year-old part
I wonder,
Why I put restlessness in the place of a full heart.
Everyone can love but me.
Every one savors its warmsoftsilkiness in their mouth
But me.
How the 13-year-old Heart longs to have the love,
of the 17-year-old part.
How simple she is.
Or is the latter too complicated?
Too afraid of the dry mouth, shell-person feeling that comes
with the end. So she awaits it eagerly,
knowing then it will be simple again
I am not familiar with myself.
With the ins and outs of my subconscious,
Or the fears that roots me
The simplicity and complexity of both parts,
keep
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Literature
This Feeling Is
I wonder if this feeling is wrong
But it is feeling, it is feeling
it is FEELING!
It is an old feeling, a comfortable feeling, a beginning feeling
You would suffer from this feeling,
(I feel this feeling for you, too, though that is not enough)
I am so sorry for this feeling
It is an exhilarating feeling, a tight feeling, a refreshing feeling.
Wide-eyed, candy-spy girl that I am,
Little girl that I am...
And the two who we don't want to keep away.
Make this...
This feeling an unrequited, unfinished, illogical feeling.
It is a feeling that ends here
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Literature
I am the Girl
I am the girl with the curving hips and teasing, baby-doll lips.
I am the girl with the exuberant, deep green eyes, which cannot lie.
I am the girl who doesn’t cry.
I am the girl who longs for the sleek, dangerous walk of a panther.
I wish for the sensuality of Marie Antoinette and Dita Vonn Tese,
Although this is just a caprice when I have the thought of sharing a bed with Louis or Manson
I find it ironic that I am the girl who hates the cold but whose fear is the polar bears dilemma.
For there will be no Noah's ark for them when the polar ice caps become the polar sea.
I am the girl with the picket sign, who would cross all the lines in protestation of a race who destroyed with selfish design.
We tried to make Shiva's dance our own, but we are having a hard time dancing the dance of creation in the face danced-destruction.
Despite all, I find I still have faith in man kind.
I am the girl who finds peace in an empty theater
I am the girl who sees beauty in the most run down build
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Literature
A Malicious Appetite
My pores are clogged
My sinews are weakened
My eyes are a drought.
The subconcious memories of past lives are rotting me.
I am only aware of happiness after it happens,
Therefore unable to chew the sweet nectar of it  so it lasts longer.
My emotions are partially blind.
Only having the ability to see the form,
but not the detail.
I know there is something behind the sickness of chaos.
Something more than a thickening of blood.
Oh, if I only I knew where the strings were,
So my knees would stop collapsing,
and I could reach for what I want.
If only I knew the Truth behind this malicious appetite.
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Literature
Cold Feet
Boy, roll over, get out of my bed.
I said, Boy, roll over, get out of my bed.
I don't need you here any more.
This bed will be warmer without you
Yes, this bed will be warmer without you
I can't stand you and your cold feet
Casanova, stop trying to win me
Casanova, stop trying to win me,
I told you this bed wasn't made for three
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Literature
The Note
I have written this all before.
Read it, too
Everything will pour into me,
and out of me, intermittently,
(Indifferently).
I no longer extrapolate information.
I am lacking in fidelity,
and you continue to make up for what I lack
Because I make you laugh.
My soul is the dockyard for inconsistency.
There is no meter, no rhythm.
Life pours into me,
Through me.
Out of me,
Not even sure if I will be too full
(or too empty)
Day to day.
[You know, (your mother would say), this is a relationship built on codependency.]
Distribute that.
Darling, on the morrow I will have the same worries.
Today will be yesterday all over again.
There is no fresh start when everything is candied with jade.
I am the three periods at the end of this note,
A
Lacking
Omitted
Straggling
Trifling
Girl
All and all, we are ALL better off without ME...
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Literature
Late Night Contemplations
How my emotions beg for sedation.
A drugged life is easier to bear in its fogged fantasies,
Than a life alive and awake,
To the confused muddles sun and love make.
The scoria of the past lays around me in unresolved heaps.
What is it that makes me feel this way?
Is it the fear that taints everything I want?
Eats away at all the things I love.
I think I love...
Regarding the straight jacket that confines every non-cognitive move I make,
It continues to suffocate me,
And in suffocating me it saws at the tender spider thread that connects me to you.
How I cling to it like a desperate child,
That knows all her dreams of Life's one, true meaning are being taken away.
If you knew this, would you say my intentions were that of a ruttish, slovenly whore?
I am only playing with you like so many men play with their technological toys?
Would you look with contempt on my excuses?
Oh, it is too late at night to think of all of this.
This is nothing putative,
I know karma dips my heart in cement,
An
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Literature
Outward
How pregnable I am...
The cold stone hit my teeth like something vicious,
Like smooth, jarring sand paper against my lips
Against my teeth.

How doubtful all of this makes me.
Cowering like some irrational animal
How contemptuous that you can see it in my dilated eyes.
Oh, blood.
I feel it's warmth, slivering, dark against the soft flesh of my mouth.
It sucks the moisture from my lips like it fears death.

How my heart shrinks in these emotions,
That swirl around like a protective cage,
Laced with knives
No,
It won't let you in.
Panic swarms me,
At this unexpected hurt that my hands cannot stop.
I am groping, screaming for something to help.
But it will not stop,
It will not stop, not stop.

How crowded my mind is.
Full of things that are splinters in the creases of my brain.
How ill all of it seems,
How ill I seem.
And I cannot fix, I cannot mend, I cannot heal.
Blood, blood, blood.
It clogs my fingers,
drips like a broken faucet down my throat,
paints all
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Literature
Existentialism
My worst thought is:
      The red emblem of a noose circling my cold neck
My worst thought is:
     A pulse that no longer sounds
My worst thought is:
      A sucking gun pointed to my head.
Death, dead, died
Is it not obvious enough?
Death is the end of all freedom.
The eviction
The foreclosure
Someday I know my soul will be homeless.
And I cannot believe in a religious heaven.
My best thought is:
     An embrace that seals me snuggly in a stamped envelope home
My best thought is:
     Laughter that sparkles in my eyes, and makes my whole body vibrate in delight
My best thought is:
     To find love in a freckle or a fingernail
Happy, Happier, Happiest
Why can't death be the beginning of freedom?
The Birth Mother
The Waker
Someday my soul will merge into a loquacious light,
The loss of my body forgotten in the joy of illuminat
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Literature
A Break Up Poem
I am a delicate web of emotions.
Funny how just one pulled string makes it hang limp,
And dull in-between my rib-bones.
My cheeks are caked with salt.
My eyes are swollen and bloodshot with something much more terrible then any illegal drug.
I am capsized in the sea of my own broken-fragility.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
My skins side seams split.
My laughter leaps from my lips ludicrously.
This is only how I think I should feel.
My intangible self just feels a thin shroud of darkness,
My heart beats placidly in the web of my veins.
Yes, I am alone,
But I am still smiling.
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Literature
The Apathetic Lover
Lovely,
The spider Doubt has spun a sarcastic web in me
And, like the bumbling fly,
I have flown straight to the center.
And killed all the softness in my being
(Concrete met my human stomach and forced the belief out of me.)
Appease the mocking feline in me.
She is reluctant and skeptical about all this feeling
(Remember: spontaneity is like the gift of a fat field mouse to the gaunt and bitter stray cat.)
Show me bare belly to bare belly contact,
So I may remember that every cell in my body possesses feeling.
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Literature
Red Wine, White Straw
My lover drinks wine through a straw.
She sits on the floor and giggles,
With the red wine and the white straw.
She giggles at the adulthood and childhood mixed together,
In the sensation of liquid velvet running down her throat.
I watch her in an armchair,
Balancing the wine cup between my middle and ring finger.
I whisper,
let her be childish, let her be childish
The red wine and the white straw,
Are such a perfect representation of herself, after all.
My lover sits on a rug,
In white knee socks, no shoes, and a school girl's dress.
The wine is not what puts that malicious glitter in her eye.
She's not quite tipsy yet.
Desperation clings to her.
I see it in the twitch of her fingers,
The fastidious sucking of the wine.
I remember how she trembled with anger yesterday.
Once upon a time.
She crawls in my lap,
All her wine sucked through the round tube of a straw.
Her lips are red,
Her face is set.
She knows what she wants,
And what she wants she gets.
And, I fear for her.
I
fear
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Literature
Being.
I never paid attention to how my torso curves out before.  How my lower body is like an oval with it's widest point right where my too-low jeans button.  My stomach is warm enough and complex enough to hold a baby, but simple enough and soft enough to be a place to rest a cold hand.
My skin, my skin my skin. I'll never describe how skin to skin contact feels to my hungry pores.  My skin is my sixth sense.  Through my skin and your skin I connect my body to my soul.
Blankets and bodies are a different kind of warmth when I lie in bed.  A different kind of comfort.  How seamless your chest feels to me is a beauty I never saw in the movies. My neck resting on your arm is a whole new kind of fit.  My everything is amazed and fascinated by these new feelings presented to me.  My awareness has expanded:
And I understand.
Your intangible heart is your whole body.  My blood pumps that illumination through
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Literature
Being ROUGH DRAFT
THIS IS THE ROUGH DRAFT!  IF YOU READ THIS PLEASE ALSO READ FINAL DRAFT!
I never paid attention to how my torso curves out before.  How my lower body is like an oval with it's widest point right where my too-low jeans button.  My stomach is warm enough and perfect enough not only to hold a baby, but a place to rest a cold hand.
My skin, my skin my skin. I'll never describe how skin to skin contact feels to my hungry pores.  My skin is my sixth sense.
Blankets and bodies are a different kind of warmth when I lie in bed.  A different kind of comfort.  Arms can serve better than pillows, if they are the right arms.  My heart beats to a different rhythm now.  My awareness has expanded:
And I understand.
Your intangible heart is your whole body.  My blood pumps that illumination through my veins so my arms, my stomach, my legs, my intestines, even my ass feel that energy that makes a mother, a f
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Literature
Meant to Be
Hand in hand, the lovers walk down the beach
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Just looking at them makes you want to fall in love
And pray to the heavens to send your partner from above.
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let's throw it out the window
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Broken
What to do when my heart is breaking
A little more as everyday passes by.
And there's nothing left for the taking
No questions left to cry.
I've seen all I have wanted to
In this game of love and hate
I guess I'm just not meant to be with you
And love will just have to wait.
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Literature
Young Love
"What is love?" she dared did ask
Her father as they sat.
She looked at him with big round eyes
But all her father did was laugh.
"Love my child, you soon will know
It is something in us that does grow
Like a flower it starts out small
But it becomes beautiful if you just give it time
And remember, sweet child, love is never a crime."
The girl just smiled though she didn't understand
The father just chuckled and gently stroked her hand
And soon it became a tickling match
And the subject just merely scratched
A small memory in her mind.
The girl grew older, prettier everyday
She sparkled with a vibrance that always lit her way.
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But each day she passed them by.
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And ask her one simple thing
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Can you show me what love is?"
The boy you would not call handsome
And he was kind of short
But he had the saddest eyes she ever saw
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Literature
Those stitches in your wrists
I finally understand now
Those stitches in your wrists
The blood that left your body
Those unselfish risks
I finally got a glimpse
Of what it feels like to live
Without really living?
To breath. . .without really breathing.
To know without knowing
To tell yourself lies
I told him that I was okay
Forgot what I came to forget,
Forget the pain of your heart. . .die
I can't even blame him
Those others tell me differently
Say he was a jackass
But, I don't listen to them unregretfully
Look into those eyes
Can't you see what I see
He's different now. . .he's always been different
He wasn't there for you. . he was there for me
But, the burning in my arms
They tell me no lies. . .
I cut my wrist
I drank the blood
But, I don't slowly die
Wrap the wounds
Like rose petals in a book
Press the memories into my heart
Take my final look
I truly understand
Those stitches in your wrists
But, I'm not sure yet
If I can take those kind of risks
What if someone doesn't find me?
What if I die and no one know
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Activity


deviantID

Glitterati
Ellen
Artist | Student
Azerbaijan
Favourite genre of music: Alt, Power Pop, Rock, Ambient, techno, indie
Shell of choice: What the hell?
Favourite cartoon character: Diane from Non-Sequiter....I can't spell it.
Personal Quote: I'm white. I come from pale, white people. There is only one-thirty-second of me that is not
Interests
I'm so excited it's been snowing, lately.
Last night, when it started, I just sat at my kitchen table and watched the light cast by the streetlight that revealed the snow.
Sometimes it almost looked like it was coming down to earth in slow motion, like some movie where this moment is a turning point in the character's life. Sometimes it would just swirl around normally, and every once in a while it would whip around and it would hammer the ground and the fence and the trees.
Today it's like all the things that we have to worry about for our planet were gone (or at least covered up for a while. A reminder that the beauty of nature perseveres, even though we're chipping away at it with our greed.
  • Listening to: Modest Mouse

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconlaurythompson:
laurythompson Featured By Owner Aug 28, 2007
OMG! you're a GENIUS! Why don't you join the poetry contest from [link] ? Free to enter, 100k prize. You MUST win it!
Reply
:iconlaurythompson:
laurythompson Featured By Owner Aug 28, 2007
OMG! you're a GENIUS! Why don't you join the poetry contest from [link] ? Free to enter, 100k prize. You MUST win it!
Reply
:iconstarsdie:
starsdie Featured By Owner Jun 23, 2007
thanks a lot for the fav
Reply
:icondrowningbywords:
DrowningByWords Featured By Owner Jun 20, 2007  Professional Writer
thanx Ellen for kindly adding
Black Swan In A Snow Garden [link]
to your faves =)
nice to see you back from colorado :hug:
Reply
:iconrainbowlullaby:
rainbowlullaby Featured By Owner Jun 17, 2007
thank you !
Reply
:icondrowningbywords:
DrowningByWords Featured By Owner Jun 4, 2007  Professional Writer
Hiya Ellen :wave:
how are you sweety?
thanx for kindly adding my
poem Acrylic Tears
[link]
to your faves and thanx for the nice comments =) :glomp: :hug: :smooch:
I wish you a nice week
and hope its full of lots
of love and inspiration =)
Reply
Add a Comment: