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alisonaj
alisonaj
Just trying to find my voice in writing
i like angry poetry the kind that churns in your gut, with razors for teeth and gums bleeding. i like the violent sound of verbs clashing on a decaying page, like the shot of a gun on a quiet day. i like the poetry that stays, that lies in waiting like a dog in a cage, words that creep like voided birds into the wired tress of my brain, that pay their rent like drunken travelers and trash the place. i like angry poetry the kind that sears it's screams to my lips, which spirit echoes and moans for eager, ****** eyes. words that hit like ***** giving their reader a killer hangover. i like angry poetry, the kind that leave you with a smoky exit.
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Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 5:42 PM UTC
rotten words
Sky Afire It started as a tendril snaked And quickly caught my eye That beckoned me to come partake The bright majestic sky From turquoise into indigo And all the shades between With molten lava spreading slow As far as could be seen With orange and corals juxtaposed Against the deeper blues And silhouetted trees in pose Amid the great bamboos The clouds were piled in tumbling flow And darkened as they fell To charcoal black, blood red aglow At meeting with the swell And as the skyflow met the sea And seemed to melt within The sea took on its vibrancy And flow began again And as the skyflood reached its peak Engulfing and aflame It seemed directly to retreat As quickly as it came The ashen grey began above And slowly spread below Till all was left in pumice drifts Within its final glow And now the show has ended With the sky once more a sky And the clouds and sea appended For a witness such as I 3 Oct 2000
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Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC
Sky Afire
the mirrors reflection only ever spoke of her as *weak, alone, a ghost pitiful, mournful wonder-less at most* it was her place to hide but the mirror LIED she punched it with her fist until it was shattered and broken bleeding into the cracks until it became a ***reflection                  truly                           spoken***
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Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 7:09 AM UTC
lying piece of glass
Innocence is the days when I thought that monsters lived under the bed rather than slept right beside me. It was the times I feared heights almost as much as I now fear brooding stares. Back when I thought passionate love was the only kind worth having — that I now wish for a lover who loves quietly. Innocence was thinking danger was an ill-advised adventure, not a man. It was admiring a tornado heart and not realizing the damage it would cause.
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Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 7:09 AM UTC
Mirage
I caught lightning in your bottle, and I swallowed it whole. So torrid and treacherously lit, I became the kind of something you taught yourself to run from. Skin tight and white hot, I radiate light from all angles; buzzing with fluorescence. With my fingertips brightening the curves of your lips, I trace that familiar fine line between your fear and fascination. In a single crack across the sky, I will set your darkness ablaze and leave you with a deafening boom of clarity. Jolted and stunned, you take in an infinite illumination, devouring every inch of the unknown color and wonder once shadowed by your thick, murky doubt. Blink, and it disappears as quickly as it came to be. What you see, you can’t forget. As the spots dance, staccato in front of your eyes, you run, just as you taught yourself, fast and far, away from the light; disenchanted once again, as you recall the fact that lightning never strikes the same place twice. the same place twice.
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Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
an unfortunate case of astraphobia
*It can be difficult to tell whether you’re looking desperately for the good in someone to justify having loved them, or that you still love them.*
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Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 11:30 AM UTC
Unfaltering
*I’d sleep better if your chest was my pillow and you were here to hold me.*
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Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 7:15 AM UTC
Sweet Dreams
*The things that make me sad the most are the people who break promises and the what ifs, should haves, would haves, and could haves.*
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Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 7:11 AM UTC
Untitled
I can’t do boring I need the chaos, the strange, the passionate, the irrational. I need the adventure. It fuels me. Nothing else is satisfactory.
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Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
Adventure
*There are a lot of things I would have done if I wasn’t so scared of rejection.*
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Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:33 PM UTC
Too Scared