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 Aug 2013 Annelise Kearvell
Ugo
Soulless,
We quenched our dreams with thirst;

bought the heavens,
Waving a country of radio love

As fee,

United under one Internet
Two Chocolate paper ******* announcements
And $6 New York Halal meat.

The mortal man always drinks his sea--
So ask your doctor about Nixon
And lift the verbs off your skirt
For Nemo
who replaced Icarus
And now twerks at synods
With ******* oven oil glued
To his left fin;

The same one God used to bet Satan over the soul of man.
 Jul 2013 Annelise Kearvell
Fah
The tree’s don’t sleep at night

they photosynthesize , by moonlight.

Leaves drink in the cool wise light

And give off dreams of softly fading starlight



Whispers of secrets , monthly unfurl

A single blossom falls at new moon

Hurtling to the ground, awake before noon

Ever noticed? The very word has the circle

Curled up in the centre , twice to make sure we remember , two full cups , not one.



Geko’s slip off old skins

And the croaking frog adds to the din

As thunder rolls in

Triggering the dogs bark

Guardian of the stark naked couple

Asleep in their parallel worlds

Together under the umbrella of ambient lighting

Not the natural kind either

But a shameless copy of pure sunlight

That emenates when their bodies collide

On the material plane.



Astral visions lead the way to headquarters

The address? Fax? Phone number?

I’m afraid you’ll have to dial again ,

Unless you’ve meditated on the vibration of emancipation

Then you would already know, you are already there

Doors are open , for those who care to try

No lock on this baby ,

Ain’t no safe to play safe

We bask in our humble glory

Under the shores on undulating tides

Rhythmic pulsations

no where to hide

The emanations come from within,

Without , a shadow of a doubt



There is a war coming , infact we’ve already been fighting for decades

Just like the change of winds, nature knows her stuff

Tip the seeds too soon and you’ll end up with a field full of fluff

But just in time and a harvest with enough to reduce every super market shelf to dust

Even though they already stock that kinda stuff

Clean up on Aisle 4, Aisle 3 , Aisle 2 , Aisle 1

Return the purchase , we’ve discovered the ****

In the cake

And we found the frog in the salad,

At least their habitat is intact

Or did you think I was still talking about the shops?
 Jul 2013 Annelise Kearvell
st64
sharing a spot of brilliance with you
yes, it will touch your internals
only if you want it to*


Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the ******. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”                       ― Rosemarie Urquico








S T, 5 July 2013
Oh man, isn’t that just beautiful, hey ....

Grab a cuppa, guys ...and rock on!





Sub-entry: “The Time-Traveler’s Wife”

It’s dark now and I am very tired.
I love you, always.
Time is nothing.


― Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler's Wife
 Jul 2013 Annelise Kearvell
Ugo
In the burning right hand of the bald city,
denizens frame calories and count instagram blessings
while beacons of hope refund inspiration in USADA *** cups.

Abyssinian maids wail over yesterday lovers
who wore Ginsberg’s skirt with less  pizzazz
and watched bedbugs **** blood off knee caps
wondering, what if Jesus Christ drove a Nissan?

As bullets of paragraphs fall Vietnamese pesticides on my head,
The dusts off my breath sing homilies
With letters of broken leather whiskey,
For even in the most dishonest jest,
clandestine toothbrushes are overrated
and every first false lie is the only truth.
 Jun 2013 Annelise Kearvell
sked
It's an addiction
It can't be understood
In its exterior it is simplistic
In its interior it is complex

It is something that can't be understood
By those outside it
Because they don't know the highs
Or where it does take you
All those outside it can only see
Just how it will break you

But they can't see
They can't see how good it feels
The stages are easy to know
When you can follow me

Stage 1: The first date
Always the best part
The nerves
The preparation
The mystery
The first time that I touch her hand
A rush
I feel high again

Stage 2: The first kiss
Always a favorite
Because I mastered it
I take her to the perfect place
She loves it
An overlook
A stream
Nature surrounding
The kiss happens
It's perfect to her
She loves it
As do I
I feel that rush again

Stage 3: The convincing
The dating
The kissing
The sensations
All are easy to see why it's sensational
The feeling of her skin against mine
The listening to her perfect breath move her chest
In and out
In and out
I tell her I love her
She isn't sure at first
But I try harder
As we continue
And I succeed
I feel the euphoria coming in

Step 4: The love
That comfort
That security
That feeling of serenity
It cloaks me
Wraps me around
Its sky blue blanket
And lays me in
A green field
She's there too
Next to me
Feeling the same earth
Beneath us
I turn to her
Eyes whatever color
It nonetheless dazzles me
It fills me with something dangerous
Hope
That rush is gliding me through

Stage 5: The loss
Parents get in the way
She loses that feeling
I'm a *******
But either way
That feeling
That was once with her
Is gone
She walks the thin line
Performing a balancing act
Trying to find reason to be together but can't
She calls me up on the phone
Tells me how everything is wrong
I don't see it
I can't see it
Our love was perfect!
We both made it!
And now you're killing it!
We meet up
I beg but she's stands her ground
She walks up
Leaves
I'm alone
Left to sob
Yell
Get angry
That adrenaline rush from the high rises

Stage 6: The hate
The pacing
The change of thoughts
I still love her one day
I despise her the next
I feel anxiety kick in
Try my best to hold it
But can't
I call her up
Yell at her
Scream at her
Tell her that
She threw something great away
She hangs up
Blocks me
Never speaks to me again
I still keep pacing
Feeling more often guilty
Than angry
ineverwantedtohurtyoualliwantedtodowassaveyoufromanyoneelse­iknowthatisaidiwantedyoutosufferbutthatsnnottrueatalliddoanything­
Sometimes I still feel that hope
But it's fading
Fades fast
It's all over

My high is going down
I need to go back
And cook some more

She moves on quickly
I got her addicted too
She feels that addiction too
It draws us both in
And we can't imagine
What it would be like to leave
It is the cycle
That helps make us
And the cycle
That can break us
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