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Ili Norizan Dec 2016
Nobody can break me,
But myself,
And I do it so carefully,
To build a shelf,
Filled with stories of the lonely,
Pages of truth known only to me,
For I am the one they know,
To own the barely beating heart
That pumps ink instead of blood;

I break it on the daily,
To spill words so familiar,
Yet foreign like careless whisper,
Like the sweet nothings he once gave me,
Or the promise he broke chance after chance;

Still my heart held on,
Ink filled to the brim,
Flowing through the tips,
Coursing through every vein,
At the touch of my bony fingers,
Dancing away on screens,
Or the clickity clacking,
From typing bits of him,
But more of me,
And how I never knew,
That truth is this heart,
It bleeds free,
It bleeds true,
But not in shades of red,
Just black and blue.

I'm gonna recite this tomorrow at the open mic at @gapai_kitchen (somewhere in PJ, Malaysia). Wish me luck!
Application of misinformation
Falsify a failed nation,
Eradication of all creation
Of representation
Deny the station
Granted by occupation
And the inhalation
Of justification
No prerequisite information
Just accumulation
No moderation,
Their determination
Through stimulation
Cultural *******
Communal degradation
Societal desecration,
Dehumanizing revocation,
Worldly humiliation,
Mortal sterilization
Never achieving mobilization
Lack of communication
Excelling in vile persuasion,
Proponents of procreation
Birthing digitization,
Destroy civilization,
Indications of adoration
Isolation in delineation,
Irrational indexation,
Fluctuating indignation,
No innovation,
False ovation,
Lacking limitations,
Contextual intonation,
Divine fabrication,
Private publication,
Evolving fornication,
Give me extermination,
Notwithstanding annexation
Of dismaying oxidation,
Of valued perpetuation,
Global mass-castration,
Redundant rhetoric, dictation,
A donation, a dilation, a fixation,
An annotation of fibrillation,
We are personification
Of Contamination
Through globalization
Praising idolization
And finalization
Through *******,
No pragmatic exoneration,
In all frustration
We see not utilization
Nor stabilization,
Fearful implications
Of wayward stations,
Surplus mutilations,
Seeking militarization
Of worthless nations,
No conservation,
Just excavation
Of the population
******* on education,
Spitting on graduation,
No validation of aspiration,
Indoctrination of baptization
Mitigating litigation,
murdering habitation,
Quelling all vegetation
We will end in radiation
Through faulty navigation,
Abdication and abnegation,
All worldly agitation
Leads us to expiration,
Self-made annihilation.
There was never an end in sight,
We’re lost, and hope is a lie.
Shannon Apr 2015
I'm difficult and broken
-and not at all difficult and broken in that oh-im-so-difficult-and-broken-beautiful way that some women can be.
I'm just difficult and broken in all the ugly ways it manifests.

sahn 4/10/15
Thank you
Shannon Mar 2015
Destroy me.
Take what you can from the middle.
Take that golden yellow moon-
that sherbert sunset in the center of how I exist,
**** it, take it!
And Stubbornly I'll be.
When all that is left is bones for the jackal to
satiate on
when all that is heard is bubbles popping
and the jaw creaking
the overuse of what was inside me-
When that dark and silken predator
lies lazy on it's back
with my contents fuming in its distention...
destroy me, do.
***** my remains
with huge heaving gusts of your gluttony.
Because you will.
Because I am too heavy to carry, I am too light to settle.
Oh, yes I'll be your posion,
and into every cell I will invade
marching with my army, marching with my anger
I will wiggle in your ear and chew through the pictures in your mind,
eating at the corners of everyone you covet most.
I'll call you in a singsong voice that does not end.
In every room you'll look to hear-
in every corner your try to hide from it.
I will flood your soul with my wrongdoings so you
carry mine as well as yours.
Yes, destroy me-
And you will perish from my digestion
and you will carry my heavy sins.
Oh, what is left? What is left?
Just the eternal weight of light
and you cannot eat that,
On light you can feast
but not thrive.
It will not still the noise
of the rotting wood
that sits solid and solitary
in the place
where someone stole
your exclusive rights
to feel

Sahn 3/26/2015
I suppose it's very healthy to explore all of what makes us humans. In any case, thank you for taking time to share in my work.
Shannon Mar 2015
I am angry in the way that
bubbles in champagne
rocket towards air.
I am pretty-
in that beige and golden way.
That heat paints my face,
Scolds my cheeks-
like an iron to the crispest collar
of a well-dressed man.
And I am virile in the hot.
Lovely reds and pinks and
eyes that catch-
LaCross nets that
will not meet your gaze
lest you see the squall
I work so hard to hide.
I am breathless with my rage,
and oh, so beautiful! Finally.
In my pain,
I am dry and fragile
brittle leaves crunching underfoot,
the salt left careless by the sea.
Nothing grows in me-
nothing grows in me.
I am dead sea
and beauty floats boastful where
love cannot swim.
For I carry this grief
in the way a river stone
bears the weight of the rushing water.
The lovely
and the ruthless.
The heinous
and the clean....
the very worst of me
is the prettiest to see...
Naked before the judges table
I have no shame.
"Such a pity", they'll say.
"Such a beautiful girl,
all that anger in such a beautiful girl."

anger is hard to explore in oneself. it's hard to objective. i believe pure anger can create it's own light which has a certain loveliness. thank you for sharing my work.
Sam Oct 2014
Black and white ink-smudged lines letters
Spilling together combinations creating
Words describing life breathing air into
Lungs paper inflated balloons and
Written into lines words
Flowing rivulets from my pen
From my wrists my blood
Is black ink pulsing through my veins
So powerful I want to write them
Over the surface of my skin create
A canvas of color let them
Bleed in until all I am is
All I ever could be all I ever want to
Are combinations of letters
Thrown haphazardly together thoughts Spilled onto paper like paint splatters Thrown at canvases
Creating beautiful violence
Words are a beautiful violence Manufactured for
Love or apathy different combinations of
Letters shoved together at random my Body is nothing
But an amalgamation of Words
May I never know anything less than this Truth.
Words though

— The End —