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Marie-Niege Nov 2015
Brown-Eyed Girl-
they say she is the weakest link
gone and sprung amuck
through clouded fields of poppy seeds
and cottony ******. they say she is a sprain
of chortling pain in the dumpling
maker's yeasting wrist.

brown-eyed girl seeing powdered
blues of glass-stained eyes,
he wore a plaid shirt, nip-and-tucked,
rat-a-tat-tat, and a silly looking bow-tie
slopped slightly off-kilter and to the right,
a frenchie little pear of a man. he said he liked her-
tie-dye thighs. she said, he said, she liked his
dumpling hands - and flakey chest.

they say she is that button-down clad-
sunflowers-printed kind-of, sad.
memories tainted, she said, he said,
she's the kind of girl you've got to love every night,
my kind of a woman. my salted oils, fried
and phat-  
                brown-eyed girl.
Marie-Niege Sep 2015
when i was younger, all i wanted was for the world to fold me but the older i get,
the more i understand that the world
isn't at the mercy of any art form.
it doesn't fold. the world has a million
and one pockets, each one holding a
different secret and waiting restless souls.
Marie-Niege Aug 2015
to the girl who made the mistake of
standing auburn hair raving in the sun
knee deep in the city street,
lungs roaring and eyes giving,
you can't fight the rain
but you can beat the sun.
Marie-Niege Jul 2015
There are mirrors all over this place
and each wall is hologram-ed with my reflection. I am pink and blue with the
pale ideas of hues and pleasantries.
I am not abstract but my lungs don’t quake
with the facts of air and the thrusts of life-
I am reality. Independently so, I am reality
perched on the back of a featherless bird and the flight takes wind of my throat and sets me on fire.

I’ve not had a powerful love that moons me hollow or jades me pale like the blistered stars that hangs on too long to something too dark, I’m not depressed but indefinitely so, I do not feel too happy or too sad or too anything. I am a stranger.

My emotions are not too stark or too raw, they linger. A little longer than yesterday’s Jack and I burn just a little darker than
this morning’s sun. I am awake only for this moment and the moment after that, my eyes will close and I will drift sallow into a putrid shade of hollandaise yellow.
Marie-Niege Jul 2015
and you feel the day slip away -

i lost my incredibly absolut day
to a wafer thin, cappuccino hued
boy who showed an infinity for
expressing his appreciation for
color and curiosity by outfitting
himself in raven blues and navy
blacks. and on his angular cheeks
and butterfly lashes, i caught the
honor of an absolut wink and a
flush of mischief. on the promise
of a full, absolute day, i felt my day
slip away as certain as his wingless
back held my eye and ducked down
a sunlit alley and i pulled my hoarsed
voice into whispering, "hello."
Marie-Niege Apr 2015
see the rainbow but don't be
afraid of the rain.
panic/failure induced self-realizations are the best and it isn't even midnight yet.
Marie-Niege Mar 2015
Everyone writes about coffee
The embedded love
The innate passion
That’s brewed strong
That’s filtered long
Everyone talks about coffee and love
Everyone compares coffee to love
Everyone forgets its natural taste
Everyone forgets its bitter taste
Its rancid lingerance
Its putrid flavor
Everyone forgets to write about coffee creamer
The artificial sweetener
The true romancer
another oldie
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