I was a vessel who once carried my voyages' hardships
as I head back through your euphoric shores;
you were my comfort zone whenever I get tired
of wandering the oceans of depression;
but still--you decided to abandon my ship.
As I set myself back to sail and wander the deep blue,
I never knew my own home was the monstrous
waves who keeps me struggling every day and end;
Still I kept myself sailing and let the wind carry me
somewhere else away from your coast.
What I think
what I say
and what I do
shall not be a meal
that you can indulge in
before you digest
and criticize it.
this tiny little space
that I am able to afford
is not for you to steal, rob or breach
and I have fought through
thousand of nights and days
with nobody but myself
to gain all this.
I shall refrain myself
from doing things
that will inflict the process
as there is enough barbarism
in this world
without my help.
And it might be useful
for you to know that
what you think
what you say
and what you do
is something that
I am not interested in
and not something
for me to have a hand in
unless it has something
to do with me but
as you might have known
there is nothing that I can do
Break the door
you own nothing
and I got just three pennies
spinning on my left index finger
as I lock myself in the thorny cage
to amaze you
have drowned yourself
and it is true
I know none inside of you
but the cat has nine lives
so do I have to lick it
back and forth
just like it used to do that to you
the brick off the wall,
I have lost my sense
but you know that
you don't have to be that dense.
we are all terribly lost.
Babe, we're living in times of history.
It's happening right before our eyes,
But all I do is lie in misery
And wish for warmer skies.
I'm sitting here watching time pass me by.
You're running with it.
I'm trapped in a bed of sorrows and lies,
But I made it myself.
Time slowed on the way to Kentucky.
The golden leaves of the southern trees --
I saw it all,
Every last imprint of mother nature's kiss.
It was in that land that father and mother coexisted for a period
But that was the land of yesteryear.
Here time sped up, but me,
Well, I'm still stuck
Living in slow motion, and you
Couldn't wait for me.
It's only fair,
For I accelerated far too far for a fair young girl,
Wind in my pigtails
And hope in my heart.
The thing about using hope for fuel
Is that it's a limited resource that drains
I slowed down and for a time
Found you running by my side,
But my hope ran empty
And your heart ran cold,
And you left me coughing in your path,
Following footsteps that grew older by the second.
I lost you when I lost myself.
For now, I'm still where you left me.
I only got so far as I did
Because you replenished my hope for a short-lived spell,
But I'm too slow for your bustling heart --
I couldn't keep up with your footsteps.
The path is gone.
I vanished with it.
In the howling waste even the darkness has a voice. It taunts and beckons, it begs and calls. It slithers it way into your heart and if you listen to it you may be lost within. You'll never see the light again.
Written by: Michael R. triska
I walked down Marshall Ave
into a dimly lit gravel lot
where my car was parked
gravel crunched under my boots
I probably shouldn't walk alone
a block in a half to my car down town
its probably dangerous
any number of things could happen
you know Murphy's Law and all
so I don't think about it
and don't check behind me
because I am more of a
Schrodinger's Cat type of girl
observation affects the outcome
They got to me and Danielle knew
this was hard fo me.
She gave a small preface before I spoke
and I stood there next to my art
with my arms wrapped around me,
my hands cupping opposite elbows.
"Closed off body language"
is what the curator called it later.
She's also a psychiatrist, go figure.
My voice shook the entire time.
I think I apologized for it at least 10 times.
I wore his bracelets like I do everyday,
even though they are worse for wear
and I am afraid they will fall off.
At the end of the talk, I was
fiddling with the metal clasps.
The curator shrink called that "fidgety".
I told them how the title of
More than A Collection of Bones came to be.
The title was something he told me
when he was mad at me for something
I had been neglectful of.
I told them he inspired me
to be bold and made me feel strong
and beautiful, even though I felt
stripped and damaged.
I was more than a collection of bones.
I am a woman. I am me.
Quoth the Raven was more complicated.
I explained some of the symbolism
in the painting and that like the poem,
"The Raven", I did this piece
as a mournful remembrance.
I closed by saying all my pieces
from this series have 3 things in common.
All three things are secrets of which
only one other person alive was aware.
During the Q & A, I was asked
about my process, my background in art,
and my mediums.
One question stuck out,
"Will you continue this series?"
I said in response, "It always continues
in my life and in my head and
in my dreams, but I feel very closed off
right now and giving it a voice,
recording it on paper seems scary.
Only time will tell."
Then I apologized again
for my shaking voice.
His eyes were the abyss of my hell
The way his lips moved swaying my sanity
Attached like a dog to his master
I begged and I sat, constantly craving
Eating my inside like parasites
I called it love, no not love
I called it Lust, no not lust
Survival through his fibers
My cells becoming his own
No matter where he looked
No matter where he roamed
I have built a castle in the sky
She says I'm rude and ridiculous
She Says it ain't gonna work
So the emotion I'm livin in
Is love at its worst
I just wanna explode
I just wanna burst
I fail at this,
she seems so hurt
She says she's done
That she gave me time
It hits me like a gun
It's sour as lime
Nothing ever betters me
I bring back her worst memories
She's fed up with my presence
I'm not her lover, Just a peasant
She says I treat her like shit
We used to love and be close knit
I love when we talk and sit
Made her trust go to shit
She says 'For me you've done zip'
It's making my heart rip
I'm just watching her slip
My goal is to get a grip
Our daughter won't be the glue
But her heart will be affected
Her I don't want to confuse
Cuz it'll always be regretted
In my heart her spot is embedded
So I never want to say 'it ended'