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 Feb 2014 Kaitlyn Marie
eryn b
Love is unpredictable, unstoppable and infinitely beautiful.

You can't plan love to come your way.

It just happens

So let it

happen.
 Feb 2014 Kaitlyn Marie
eryn b
I want to be that person who doesn't care about what other people think.
I want to be that person who is beautiful without even trying.
I want to be someone who can be sarcastic.
I want to be someone who can make someone's day just by smiling.
I want to be someone who can forgive and forget.
I want to be someone who knows exactly what to say at the right time.
I want to someone who doesn't have to happy with a ton of friends. Cause She'll know how to dance on her own.
Dream of splendor lingers long
Wave of wonder early dawn
Dream of you and I together
I bind our love for now and ever...
down
  down
    down
      down
        down
          down
            deep
              below

children of the caves will let their
secret fires glow
~~~

An explosion of birds
Dawn
Sun strokes the walls
An old man leaves the Casino
A young man reading pauses
on the path to the garden
~~~

Bitter winter
Fiction dogs are starving
The radio is moaning softly
calling to the dogs
There are still a few
animals left in the yard

Sit up all night,
talking smoking
Count the dead & wait
’til morning
Will warm names & faces
come again
Does the silver forest end?
~~~

December Isles
Hot morning chambers
of the New Day
Idiot first to awaken (be born)
w/shadows of new play
learned men
in Sunday best
we’ve had our chance to rest
to mourn the passing of day
to lament the death of our
glorious member
(she whispers secret messages
of love in the garden
to her friends, the bees)
The garden would be here
forevermore
~~~

Mexican parachute
Blue green pink
Invented of Silk
& stretched on grass
Draped in the trees
of a Mexican Park
T-shirt boys in their
Slumbering art
~~~

-I fear that he’s been
maim’d beyond all
recognition

He hears them come &
murmur over his corpse.

Street Pizza.
~~~

funny,
I keep expecting a
knock on the door
well, that’s what you
get for living around
people

a Knock? would shatter
my dreams’ illusions
deportment & composure
The struggle of a poor poet
to stay out of the grips
of novels & gambling
& journalism
~~~

A quality of ignorance,
self-deception may be
necessary to the poet’s
survival.
~~~

Actors must make us think
they’re real
Our friends must not
make us think we’re acting

They are, though, in slow
Time

My wild words
slip into fusion
& risk losing
the solid ground

So stranger, get
wilder still

Probe the Highlands
~~~

Bourbon is a wicked brew, recalling
courage milk, refined poison
of cockroach & tree-bark, leaves
& fly-wings scraped from the
land, a thick film; menstrual
fluids no doubt add their splendour.
It is the eagle’s drink.
~~~

Why do I drink?
So that I can write poetry.

Sometimes when it’s all spun out
and all that is ugly recedes
into a deep sleep
There is an awakening
and all that remains is true.
As the body is ravaged
the spirit grows stronger.

Forgive me Father for I know
what I do.
I want to hear the last Poem
of the last Poet.
He was the type of boy who wrote memos on his hand because his skin absorbed the words better than paper but they soon came off when he scrubbed her of his skin and from under his finger nails.

Nights are getting heavier and the sky is darker and it feels like the stars could swallow you whole but you have to keep moving.

Memories are long and painful and shots of your image like knives are imprinted on my skull and i can't seem to shift what appears to be your apparent state of mind. Oh what a funny way to live, not knowing if the leaves are turning brown or if our veins run blue but we can't see it.

It's not about me, you see, i can't control my mind it's not full of fields where daisies grow no more. It's full of the thoughts you should run from and people whose hearts should not beat but we must ignore these factors for i am still human. And my blood is warm and my skin is warm and so is the sun. Please love me and show warmth to me too.
this was wrote on the night of the 24th February with a numb heart and heavy eyes.
Him
He'd be more
than one page in your journal
this man, Yorkshire-born,
anthropology at Pembroke,
the one who wrote
about a fox and a song.
Piano music in the room,
British-bohemia.
You, enthralled,
wonderfully drunk
among turtle-necked boys,
friends of his
and then him,
the unscratchable diamond
you wanted bad.
     'Then the worst happened.'
Earrings like tears in his palm,
two accents mixing,
new paints in a ***.
Before long
he'd be chucking
clods at your window
though you wouldn't be home.
But his name would spray
from your mouth for good.
Written: February 2014.
Explanation: A poem (work in progress) that is likely to be part of my third-year university dissertation regarding Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath, and the follow-up to previous poem ‘Her’ (please read.)
On Saturday 25th February 1956, Hughes and Plath met at a party celebrating the launch of Saint Botolph's Review, a literary magazine that Hughes contributed to. This meeting occurred at Falcon Yard, an inn that was located very close to Petty Cury in Cambridge, England.
Ted Hughes studied at Pembroke College, switching from English to Archaeology and Anthropology in his third year. The poems referenced are ‘The Thought-Fox’ and ‘Song’ from his debut collection.
In her journals, Plath mentions how there was piano music and boys in turtle-neck sweaters - she also says that she became ‘very very beautifully drunk.’
‘Unscratchable diamond’ comes from Hughes’s poem ‘The Casualty’ and was quoted by Plath to Hughes that night. According to Plath, Hughes removed her earrings and said he’d keep them.
As described briefly in his poem ‘Visit’, one evening Hughes threw soil-clods at (what he believed) was Plath’s window, accompanied by his friend Lucas.
Feedback is most welcome.
 Feb 2014 Kaitlyn Marie
Wednesday
One day I’m going to have to stop doing winged eyeliner
and getting drunk in public places

And one day I will have to admit to myself
that I don’t really know what love is

One day I will get in my car
and throw my just lighted cigarette out of the window
because I don't really need it after all

I’ll stop listening to depressing music when I’m home alone

I’ll stop showing up to your house at 1 in the morning

And I’ll stop throwing up in toilets every Friday

One day you’re going to find out about me -

How I’m used up and selfish and *****

One day you will notice my scars
and you won’t kiss them and tell me you love me through it all
because this is not a movie
and pain is not beautiful when it’s as obvious as
blood dripping in your mouth

You will not compare me to a wild flower
and want to **** the nectar out like an active bee and pollinate me

You will pull my sleeve back down
and look out of the window until I drop you off at your house
and you kiss me on the cheek once
instead of leaving marks on my collarbones
and you will not call me right away anymore

so I guess what im getting at is my demise was our own
and no one likes pain they have to look at

No one likes darkness when its up close and personal
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