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 Sep 2013 Selena Irulan
Eulalie
Jinx
 Sep 2013 Selena Irulan
Eulalie
I'm not going to write about you in my journal
Because unfortunately I feel that that form of confession tends to backfire dramatically and leave me jinxed.
It's like those ink-stained secrets wrapped up in leather counteract the decadent visions I drift to sleep with at night
And so,
No
I'm not going to write about you in my journal
You see, I care about the concept of you far too deeply to chance our lingering moments on teenage whimsical compulsions to gush in secrecy
About the way your words shifted my anchored soul,
About the flooding in my heart when you bared yours,
About the mass amounts of internal riots
(The butterflies doth protest)
Of your pragmatic, flirtatious adequacy
Nay, mastery.
No
I'm not going to write about you in my journal
For fear of risking those moments of substance:
Secret-swapping
Joke-exchanging
Soul-bearing times where I wanted nothing more than to jump eight hours ahead so that I could see the undigitized blue of your eyes and feel the ends of my nerves explode off my skin like the Fourth of July.
How is it
That physical proximity has nothing to do with the closeness we seem to share?
I feel
Compelled
by some unexplainable piece of mind to insist and hope and wish that
Like you once told me under volumes of conversation,
We are connected.
I don't want to waste any of this enigmatic familiarity and sudden interdependency
On matters of my own private indulgence
And for this,
I'm not going to write about you in my journal
For you say that you are Atheist
But I know that you meant it when you told me
Your soul knows mine.
It came from the heart. My obsessive, infatuated heart.
There is a silence - a serenity -

Even the dust that hangs - loose in the air -
Is still and undisturbed.
The distant sound of the mother
Remains part of another world -
Beyond thin, hard walls.

Scene into scene -
Feather-flecked memories
Echoing and fusing
To echo again.

Warmth rises - gently -
With a rich smell of earth
From the pregnant swell of the ground.

Fold after fold
Feather-filled clouds
Following the eddies
To a grotto

Delight rises - gently -
With the delicate lifting of the eggs
From the nestling swell off the ground.

Motionless
Emotionless
At peace
The child sleeps.
The pillows are packed
Around her.
 Sep 2013 Selena Irulan
Fah
This life aint'  love song whilst i march on blindly....

Each secretion of dissections interrogations are on...
on my LIVING soul

man ,

if only you knew ,


i slip like a hidden seamstress
into the alcoves of plenty, the catacomb of mind

and sit and wait untill

the seductress is ready -
her lesions
are lessons
learnt in TIME

she is the mistress of the dark
she needs no title but if you prefer you can call her Q.

this is because , yes , not only is she an insane nerd

she is also -

the softest heart i ever ( dang ) - had the chance to grace ,

Mother for those in need ,
Brother to those indeed
Lover to the oh so lucky few ,

Who she might like to point out, are just as glaringly brilliant too...

so , it's simple.

The layers of time are VERY FLEXIBLE
we need not notion ,
to the motions
at futures unclear - well
but see glimpses ..

- of , past's rejuvenation's born again into different actions
conclusions ..0...

the butterfly effect are the ripples : figment metaphor ( metaphysicians apply inside)
of wings - we are all ANGELS of a sort...

but i like to call angels = experts
they seem to know what's what...
note: the first line is from the song 'Black Eyes' - By Radical Face
kudos to Harlon Rivers AND Brycie

top , notch explorers

yo - a toast - to all of you who are sticking till the very end,
this - over here - the words - this is radio waves

coastin
ya'll

where you at?
 Sep 2013 Selena Irulan
Ceryn
Andrea
 Sep 2013 Selena Irulan
Ceryn
She knew so well, she was broken
Grazed by the dark episodes of her life
But for a reason not well spoken
She bottles up her pretty lies.

Too soon, oh Heaven. How do I despair?
Should You becalm the sea, why not seemingly fair?

Questions and tempest, in just a minute stare
All, in a trice, turned out as an awful nightmare
Hovering over the memories, hearts are still in pain
Tears are carefully hidden, sore wounds she'd rather feign.

I knew I wasn't dreaming, but for once I'd like to know.
Can we still dream much further despite a losing show?

Such a lax image, she tends to portray
Religiously, so patiently, she never goes astray
At the darkest edges of her discernible universe
Beyond our keenest senses, she buries a pitch black curse.

Shame on me, my steadfast wishes, I can hardly collect.
Another revolution yet; oh, how do I deflect?

Like a western avalanche, her days came rolling by
As if they're going out of hand, over her head, we can testify
She can just give up, or give another shot, no one seems to know
But in her mind, she knows just why she was there all from the word go.

I know to whom I shall only concede, never to a ruthless battle.
Disjoint, unarmed, I could always be; but my faith, no one can throttle.

And so the tale of this one staunch damsel never ended wrong
She might have had some tough good byes, but that made her strong
Cropping out the tragedy from the frame, she tries to recover from drama
Star-crossed, perhaps, but not til she stops becoming the one tough Andrea.
For my friend, Andrea, who carries on til forever. Carry on til forever.
i stand on this cliff wondering why hold back something that is good

as i watch the  ******* chosen one take the one from me you see i was *******  you see

this war i will fight until one man is left standing you see there is one ***** job you see i am always the one being ******* over and over again and trust me i don't care if you think i am gonna be  the one who ruins your  little angel you see my intentions are pure unlike this mysterious son of a gun  i know theres some prophecy to ***** me over its a matter of time your faith and crazy DIES when i finally get the pay off and you be the failure
 Sep 2013 Selena Irulan
CRH
You read between
the horizontal lines
And ended up trapped
inside my sweater.
Some days I feel expressionless
So
I lay on my couches
Sipping some teas
Thinking on nothing at all
No smiles, no frowns
I just sit here and be
an expressionless me.
a poem for Jadey-Babe
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