aubrey-rose
I would consider myself a writer. I have yet to have anything published, but its the first thing I think about every morning. When I am sad or happy, or hear a new song the first thing I want to do is write. I love to write everything, songs, poetry, short stories. I don't think I'm ready for a novel yet but that's on my to-do list. So, that is me.
Blue eyes
Sky eyes, Ocean eyes,
Sparkle eyes, Lonely eyes.
Gentle eyes, Passion eyes,
Loving eyes, Vacant eyes.
Mirror eyes, Hidden eyes.
Blue eyes.
Window eyes.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
Walking down a country road
I spot a cow lying on it's side.
Her sides are heaving and blood slowly trickles
out of her open mouth.
I stand under a tall oak, feeling helpless as
she lifts her head and cries out in pain.
I turn and continue walking,
thinking about steak for dinner.
A fork forms out of my path,
one to the right, one to the left.
I stand for a full twenty seconds
trying to decide which way to take.
I have no recollection of this road, though I have
walk down it many times
to my lovers grave.
I finally chose to go left, because it seems
the most familiar.
The trees grow larger the further I walk,
the wind is stronger and leaves hurl around like
small tornado's.
I continue walking, quickening my pace, trying to reach
my lovers grave,
when I see a familiar fence.
I glance out of the corner of my eye and see
the sick cow, but it is no longer calling
out for help, no longer heaving
at the sides.
I cross through the boards of the
enclosure, walking over to the new born
I see the aftermath of the birth all around me,
including a new orphan in the world.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Splitting hairs, short and long,
about the final days.
Who will win, who will love,
Who will see.
Smarting blows, words purple and black
leaving gun shot wounds to the head.
Permanent stone, only destroyed by
distorted memory. Sticks and
stones batter dead bones,
never left in cessation,
can't win.
"Selfish, weak, foolish."
Ignored, helpless, hopeless, alone.
Splitting hairs to find the blame,
one sided mirrors are lies.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 10:09 AM UTC
I am a holder of cargo,
I am a keeper of lives.
Life of one hundred years
keeps me adrift, to be tossed
lifelessly by the moving soul
of the earth.
I am adventure. I carried
your fathers. They loved me
as a mother, and I bore my
children in my dark, wooden womb.
I am the plague, I brought the
vermin and death.
I am the world, you can see
it in my sails, flowing with the wind
of one hundred thousand souls,
some home, some still here.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 9:19 PM UTC
Homesick for a heart
that was stolen long ago,
an enemy that continues to thwart
any happiness, no eyes aglow.
I could keep lying, where to start
when a life tries to bestow
a sense of beauty in the art
of love, horrible shadow.
Attempts to keep me apart,
so as never to heal from sorrow
like a fiends old, black heart,
flecks of a dark indigo
but not enough to rechart
the sickly feeling of love in limbo.
Never, never leaving you,
never, never loving you
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC
I would kiss you
as my only substance,
when again we rendezvous.
I would kiss until the fragments
all come together again,
I would kiss you like you never left
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
Trivial ideals of a heart desire,
smiting out the insistence of a truth.
That never “making love”, passion afire,
is a sappy affair, for minds forever stuck in youth.
My affection for you goes beyond the body.
An affliction of my mind, my spirit,
and time apart wears down, so heavy
without you, my tongue and pen stay quiet.
See straight into what is concealed
with no sense of questionable fear,
my lonely state of mind healed
until you leave again, I wait to reappear.
If we do not doubt, who can?
Gravity brings us back,
no one can break this love like porcelain.
Sweetly simple, a single lilac.
You are the reason for
my effervescent soul
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 1:26 AM UTC
A gory, gory mess my heart makes when my tank reaches empty. A long awaited kiss from you will fill it up again.
A gory, gory mess my mind makes without your voice, but without your arms it is useless.
A gory, gory mess my spirit is when the tears come. An overflowing massacre down my face that was once my happiness. A long awaited "I love" from you is only a patch on the scare that is the distance between us.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
Do you like music? I like music.
I like the way it sounds, the way it feels
and how it can make the floor shake.
Whats your favorite band? I don't have one,
but I love Bread; that old 70's rock group.
They have a song called “Everything I own.”
I don't think it's a realistic song, but it's nice to
think that someone would give everything they had
to get someone back.
They're from California. Have you ever been there?
I haven't. Everyone is always supposed to be high,
but I think that's whats called a “hasty generalization.”
There's also a lot of wine vineyards there. I wonder if it
smells good.
Have you ever been high? I haven't, but my friends are a lot.
They always tell me scary stories about getting high, so I don't think
I'll ever try it. I like to drink, though.
Drinking is fun if you're with the right people. If you're with the
wrong people you either wake up with a hangover, or you don't
drink at all, because they make you feel bad for doing it.
Do people ever make you feel bad? They always make me feel guilty.
It's easy to make me feel guilty, even if what I'm doing isn't wrong.
It's kind of funny, how people can make you feel.
Sometimes I don't like it, but there are a few people who make you feel good.
I guess parents, sometimes. Friends and lovers for the most part though.
Have you ever been in love? I have. It's great, until it leaves.
Love can make you the happiest, or the saddest person in the world.
It's like a really old roller coaster at Six Flags in Georgia. It climbs
up the first hill so slowly you wonder if it will start going backwards.
Then, as soon as you pause at the top you can look around. It's really pretty
up there, everything in sight.
You're on top of the world.
Then, you fall. You rush down the hill a million times faster than you climbed it.
That's how love is sometimes.
Do you like talking? I do sometimes. Sometimes I can just go on and on.
Other times I like to be quiet, listen to people around me, or just sit in silence.
I don't mean to talk a lot, but sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't say anything.
I guess everyone likes to talk sometimes. Everyone likes to talk about themselves.
There's nothing wrong with that, we all just do.
Thanks for this conversation with me, I hope I didn't talk too much.
Do you like goodbye's? I don't.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 10:32 PM UTC
In darkness, I am sound.
With the merest silhouette of light
the first of instincts set in, to flee.
In darkness I am content,
I am never let down, nor have I
expectations that are not met.
In darkness I am free to shackle myself
into a fate which I can predict.
I can move and even run, but always
connected with something which will never
turn me away.
In darkness I can speak
to no one and never be forced.
No reason to explain my feelings or
my actions.
Into darkness I may run,
without thinking logically or
realistically. Just flee into
fingers that clutch, which is better
than fingers that brush away.
I am sorry that into this darkness
you may not follow.
I am sorry that I must chose what to be
wrapped into. I am so sorry, my poor
darling. I love you, but I have chosen darkness.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 3:33 PM UTC