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alenachek
alenachek
A reader, a writer...
This axe was made from Oak and Anger. Forged in the fires that Shaped my cardiac Armour. I'll never surrender to a Woman Who sees love as war Ever again. It's been a long, Lonely time. But I've seen peace. Still sacrifice to the gods, Praying for brief, cold Winters; for all other Seasons to be neither. They all have room for a Woman between them, But my hatred for ego Is a burning beacon of warning Even I myself shun. I just want the silence. That deep, deep silence, Whose last word will never be:   "Me," But: "... ... ..." That, I can love. This axe was made from Oak and Anger. It beats paper; scissors; stone. Sees me armed. And still Alone.
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Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 9:28 PM UTC
"... ... ..."
A muffled moment when the light hit me the people in the room, the animals in the waiting room The white pairs of hands disappearing wild as silence then I was back in it The stillness of the morning the bridge hanging, swaying behind me The smell of coffee The smell of fresh coffee I blink slowly One eye opens first My hands are cold But I'm so so warm
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Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
in the morning
We sat in the grass When I looked at the sky, I noticed the moon wasn’t there But there were still shadows all around us I’m afraid I knew, before you even said a word I was crying, wiping my tears on my hands, my hands on the grass When you said all you had to say, I couldn’t look at you Instead I watched the streetlight The moths bumping around like boys in love I thought they looked like snow After a while you said you couldn’t sit there any longer You said you were getting too cold and too sad so you went inside It wasn’t so long ago that we drove And drove until I recognized a narrow street We pulled into the long drive of an old stone building The tall walls just as solid as I remembered The grass was pushing through the pavement of the courtyard The playground in the back slowly falling into the weeds You smiled at me because it was still daylight You picked me up and carried me across the decaying mulch like a bride And sat me down on a wooden swing I couldn’t shake the feeling that suddenly The whistle would blow The doors would open The children would come tripping into the sun But I could tell by the way the slide shuddered There hadn’t been a child here in a long time Perhaps I was one of the last The ladder cracked under your weight And you kicked the plank away without a thought I told you about my first kiss I told you about recess in the winter How those 30 minutes were so long How we all huddled together like penguins under the frozen sun And waited, too cold to speak, Until they called us inside
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Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 2:14 PM UTC
The Coldest Sun, the Sound, and the Fairytale
We sat in the grass When I looked at the sky, I noticed the moon wasn’t there But there were still shadows all around us I’m afraid I knew, before you even said a word I was crying, wiping my tears on my hands, my hands on the grass When you said all you had to say, I couldn’t look at you Instead I watched the streetlight The moths bumping around like boys in love I thought they looked like snow After a while you said you couldn’t sit there any longer You said you were getting too cold and too sad so you went inside It wasn’t so long ago that we drove And drove until I recognized a narrow street We pulled into the long drive of an old stone building The tall walls just as solid as I remembered The grass was pushing through the pavement of the courtyard The playground in the back slowly falling into the weeds You smiled at me because it was still daylight You picked me up and carried me across the decaying mulch like a bride And sat me down on a wooden swing I couldn’t shake the feeling that suddenly The whistle would blow The doors would open The children would come tripping into the sun But I could tell by the way the slide shuddered There hadn’t been a child here in a long time Perhaps I was one of the last The ladder cracked under your weight And you kicked the plank away without a thought I told you about my first kiss I told you about recess in the winter How those 30 minutes were so long How we all huddled together like penguins under the frozen sun And waited, too cold to speak, Until they called us inside
Continue reading...
37
Your parents came home I stayed for dinner We couldn’t stop laughing Because it was so strange That no one else knew Your mom asked Smile on her face What’s so funny? It’s an inside joke, We told her Her polite smile As she passed the potatoes Eyes crinkling like she was in on it Only made us laugh harder
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Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
The First Time
My grandmother passed too early Cancer And my mom went to get checked I think about her death too often How can I live motherless like her With no mother to coax me through I imagine my head in a lap My hair being stroked, only, It’s not her, It’s Amelia Earhart And she’s singing to me about journeys and daughters I imagine the grieving, days of just sitting And then one day getting up to paint the whole house blue It starts with a room With the extra paint in the attic Amelia’s not freaked She sits on the couch eating an apple And I scrub the walls With coat after coat of briny breeze The funeral is hell My father would want a closed casket And I’d just imagine her in there Hands still warm I’d want someone, and Amelia would stand next to me Still in her suede flying jacket and goggles She’d squeeze my hand and whisper She’s lucky. Or something like that
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Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 4:15 PM UTC
Amelia
there is so much you don’t know do you measure our distance the way I do? you once told me you’d do anything for me it was christmas warm that year I wore a light sweater to church the candles like stars amid pews that winter you couldn’t stop apologizing your new year’s resolution- to be a better person sometimes you said- to earn me in the museum there was the painting you loved the cherry blossom tree full bloom, pink and warm beside it, the same tree, branches bare you said you loved this one because it looked like a photograph in the spring your fortune came your voice was different you were always smiling we spoke once you thanked me for being special when you needed it you couldn’t have known how happy I was on Christmas
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Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC
On Change
Your fractal thoughts and skin like morning and page after page of new opinions You send me cocoons wings folded up flitter out suddenly as I sit waiting for tea in a busy place I like me in my newness I like to be okay I like my inner world I like to sit and wait for tea and think my inner world thoughts I like when you interrupt me Perfectly scattering my focus, over and underneath, in a busy place You effortlessly shatter these mirrors And I am happy to create new things with you
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Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 12:54 PM UTC
A Busy Place
Marry me and we can forget About the smoldering dream of youth We can escape the don’ts and the whos And we can have all the haves And take all the wants And kiss all of our promises goodnight: Goodmorning, fight the setting sun And never cry again Why worry Why spend silk satin sheets On empty heads And spill the vastness of the starry night sky On no one but ourselves We can forget the sorrows forever Of yours without mine And paint the bedroom a nice shade of green
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Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
Reverie
I am struggling to find the words, but they say that silence is beautiful. Enjoy the quiet Don't speak Don't make a noise Silence is beautiful What can I say that's worth breaking the spell? It isn't worth it, I think And my words remain unspoken I always found beauty in the way my mother spoke Poetic Russian phrases that hold no meaning in English Nearly impossible to translate Delicate strands of words lost in the swirl of languages and flattened by grammatical rules Her voice writes script in my mind, runs unhindered, taunts the emptiness of silence Her speech, untameable A breath of freedom all at once An unhindered expression of self in a single spoken moment Beauty To me it is heard To me it is given and shared She told me to sing more But they say silence is beautiful Her mouth effortlessly forms phrases I cannot forget "Wisdom brings life Wisdom shared multiplies it And lights the darkness And the world needs more light, God knows" If silence is beautiful Then my mind is hopelessly rotten A roaring, tumbling, mess of a, mix of a, turn the world upside down, cacophony of sound And through it all I struggle to find the words To make them as golden as my mother's All I can manage is a weak copy Tick tock The world is not lighter A small, sad swell against the infinite shore Don't make a noise Don't utter nonsense Sit pretty After all, silence is beautiful
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Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 12:38 PM UTC
Less is More
I want to be the admirer I want to be a tiny speck of white against a vast cliff face I want to be the last human on earth. I want to look up at the sky and lose myself hopelessly I want the stars to blaze with passion and hunger suspended in their quiet, empty storm I want to rest soundless at the bottom of the ocean and feel the colossal depths within me, so still So dark and immeasurable is this world I want to stretch my arms as wide as the magnetic breath of this earth and encompass Oh, how I could adore Oh, how you captivate me
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Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
This Or