avondale-kendja
"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best. / / "Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring." / / “A girl doesn’t need anyone that doesn’t need her.” / / -Marilyn Monroe / She may have been very controversial, but that was so the point!
the stars won’t shine here
and it’s more than some can bear
a whole world mutinied and started living in Clouds
monotony scaled trees until it screened the firmament
yet there’s one left behind with the rot
pondering the theft of good health
the kind that improves the lot
shallow as a bath
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 10:46 PM UTC
all the flakes on a *** tattle years
of gas, oil, matches
flames that spread vitriol
they swell into tickles on thin ribs
where old skin will one day ripple like mayo
over water
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 10:45 PM UTC
only me, in midst of all the sea
below a midnight moon
to take on atrophy
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 10:44 PM UTC
Can’t be right to hold me back to push me forward
Then or Now.
I was meant to find my own way,
But a perpetual show masked true intentions
I wonder who I could’ve been
If I had bothered to look through us;
I would have been a part of others.
This second feeling: I am petrified with my restlessness,
Which you had caused through fake laughs and white sugar grins
And sophisticated small talk and tags with triple dollar signs.
You seem to be always trying to prove yourself to the right ones.
And I thought I transcended with you.
But now I know and taste the herd’s beguiling call:
I can’t not pity you;
You’re still stuck in that ****** existence: an old cypress in a world of Oak and Willow.
I also pity myself for my own party of pity.
It seems being on top breaks bonds ruthlessly.
Even now, I’ve forgotten who you really are
And how to love you.
I wonder if you know who you really are.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
Trivial things became monstrosities,
and Malice gave birth to gods.
Before I had a chance, my world imploded–a closed off area:
I became helpless and stuck with woolen jealousies.
I only wanted silken bonds–rich, invincible and wanted.
It’s Bethlehem became a legend, like El Dorado:
Whatever it was, it lingered,
purring, full with sustenance with our catch while we starve.
With my limbs longer, and heart bigger,
the hunting stopped.
I exorcised the false king in its languor;
And the void needed another, like a soul for a soul.
And love, and hope fluttered in, finding home,
like me.
And things grew quiet but safe and full.
We’re moving on.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
It doesn't have to blood
When even blood goes to rot.
It doesn't have to be close,
Since things burn and go sour faster.
IT doesn't have to be clear in face
Because humans bond deeper.
All it really takes are the fibers of connection:
Magic, it makes wonders;
Respect, spirits that co-exist;
And love, where its strength holds it: Unbreakable.
This is the song of Sisters.
We protect this bond to go out
And discover the New World.
We are silken, woven threads in a tapestry.
We tell our own story.
This is the song of Sisters.
Almost soulmates and with our dreams,
We huddle for warmth against the Judgement.
This is the song of Sisters.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
My heart pushed blood into my head tonight
And I came up with a late epiphany.
I’ve been sleeping in a fairytale
Waiting for my cougar status
With my Prince.
Then I waited for a Man,
Waited for a Boy,
For a Person…
Hello? Anybody? Still here...
I woke up with a Start, blurry Centers
With clear Edges.
****
I’ve been in love with a dream within a dream,
Not of my own.
But then I thought….How long?
How long do I keep on dreaming, when the moonlight
Peeks through my stained glass, hoping I see?
I don’t need to wait for the stars of Fortune,
look up at Her Wheel.
The dream has ended;
my door opens...
Time to Wake Up.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
The anger I didn't have has Vulcan's hands;
it forms new bonds, breaks the old
dogma of alienation.
Broke from the shield of the one's who
raised me; love bonds and bands.
It was not quite fear,
Yet not waiting to take the stage.
More a self-induced cage
of denial and artificial bliss.
It was a long time coming, but I'm growing up.
I'm starting to reach the heaven,
Nirvana, true bliss
Olympus, I will sit with the gods
born of a vain, mortal mother.
And I'm starting to to realize that
I am alone, and I will be
happy, whether Time will be by my side.
It is time to deal with the hurts,
and struggles,
and mistakes. This time, they'll be
mine to deal with.
Ignorance is not bliss, not for them,
Not for me,
Anymore.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
Beauty is forever parallel to power in this life:
The hungry souls, crying out;
Unfufilled, empty dreams turned sour: I sharpen my knife.
Divide and conquer the spirits the spirits; no given peace in the afterlife.
Give power to the beaten! but mask the drought.
Beauty is forever parallel to power in this life.
Take shame for husband, vanity for wife.
Empty yourselves of such a notion as doubt;
Unfufilled, empty dreams turned sour: I sharpen my knife.
It birthed destruction of a white rose, resentment the midwife.
You and I lost, no surviving the mirrored bout.
Beauty is forever parallel to power in this life.
I try to adhere to your eye with it rife
As ego's pressure on a soul's sacred route;
Unfufilled, empty dreams turned sour: I sharpen my knife.
Under ice and snow my own soul cries, and in strife
It marches against my beauty, of which I am devout.
Beauty is forever parallel to power in this life.
Unfufilled, empty dreams turned sour: I sharpen my knife.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 7:31 PM UTC
You are not what I want,
I wish you'd stop "loving" me.
How am I supposed to know Love?
She eludes me on her angel wings until
my branches can reach
what humans ignore above us.
And I can't blame her.
I wish I could hide, too.
You, with your angst and growing needs;
They aren't forefront in my mind
As I am for you
A swan at her best,
A cuckoo at her worst,
And if possible, I'd dazzle all
with my blue-green plumage.
I wish I was ready;
I can't fly just yet.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC