"aimee" poems
Transfixed, I watch the worlds
In your eyes transform
From blue to brown to green
From sea to ground to tree.
Framed in wisps of orange flame
Your face alights, your cheeks glow bright
I sing a song about your name:
“Aim far, aim high
Aim star, aim sky
Aim you, aim me
I’m you. You’re me.
Aimee…”
My darling daughter
You are my Sun
And around you, I’ll revolve
Eternally turning –
A maternal merry-go-round
On your playground
Of seas and trees and ground.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 7:31 AM UTC
there sits secrecy above
my mind’s private mountain.
the domes proudly *****
displaying friendly aubergine
flags atop the spires.
welcome, come one come all.
a world unto its own
with striped colored domes;
ruby, jade, sapphire, gold
running circular with no end.
the way to odyssey is by
the plume vessel that treks
afar the healing sparkled waters
only to bring the lost and the
ones who already know
to the land of euphoria.
upon entering the black and white
checkered entrance
transformation in motion.
hear the lovely bells and chimes
accompanying the chorus
the gregorian chant.
you have come to the place
never to leave the same
amassing great blessings.~~lorilynn
art~~aimee stewart
copyright*lorilynn 2010
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 8:49 PM UTC
Arranged elegantly, decorated with babies breath
Is the face of a girl that joined the ranks of death
Every where, she wore a smile
To help a friend would walk a mile
She’d connect with how you feel,
Always down to keep it real
She’d give you her last meal
Before she let you starve
I knew her since I was about eleven,
Now she stands at the gates of Heaven
And I can only imagine the look on Gods face
When she stepped into His grace
Redefining “Angel face”
For those she left behind
In the wake of suicide
Always on our minds
Since came her time..
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
Like the night that flows in arrows
And the raven that flies in skies
She comes to me in a chaise
Pulled by the great white wolf
Aimee, my love, you are
the door between pleasure and pain
You fold me in shawl of lies
And stab my heart with truth
You came here like a salamander from the fire
Your siblings are **** and Nyx,
Melt in my arms like dew on leaves
Whisper and say you'll never leave
But the archer killed the raven
And wolf barks outside, in forest,
You have to go, you kiss my neck,
Send me to sleep, although
You know I'll wake up crying
Your hair is unseen in night
The eyes are tears of fire
Your skin is made from brightest stars
And you're dressed with moonrays
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 2:25 PM UTC
Ladies and Gentlemen, this is "Piron Number Five"
One, two, three, four, five, everybody in the shop on the south side
At the Chocolate shop around the corner.
The piron boys say they want some milk and dark but I really don't wanna..
Sugar-rush like I had last week.
I be the only employee cause the bros is cheap.
I like ganache, patrice, and fruit de mer.
The day it continue, and the chocolate getting sweeter
So what can I do? I really beg you MP (Mister Piron)
To me spitin’ is just like a sport.
Anything fly, it's all good let me dump it.
Oh ComEd wants a building permit..
A little bit of Aimee in my life,
A little bit of Ryan by my side.
A little bit of Weeme’s what I need,
A little bit of Jimmys what I see.
A little bit of cold packs for the sun,
Cuz we all know chocolate won't last long.
A little bit of Starbucks here I am,
A little bit of Piron makes me your man!
Piron number five.
Stir up and down and move it all around.
Shake your head to the sound, don’t let chocolate hit the ground.
Take one batch left and temper till its right.
One kettle to the front and one to the side.
Glove up your hands once and Glove em up twice
And if it look like this then you're doing it right.
I do all to make chocolate like MP knew
Cause you got 2 son and you can't get to wide
You and me gonna increase that money supply
Piron number five.
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 1:45 PM UTC
In the fairy tale, Aimee was bad at heart,
a pretty shell that promised a pearl and
when cracked open, gave grains of sand
instead. It scratched the surface of the eyes
and misled; Aimee was just one of those pretty
Jezebels, cruel within, decorated without.
Her sister Aurore was the heroine,
a fatalist, who sighed her philosophy:
'What will be will be' and her patience and
good heart tugged her towards the coincidences
that always favour the light.
But Aimee was driven away by her own wickedness,
and had not the luck of the good.
All Aimee had was the face.
These are the kind of stories I am tired of because
I want to tell you that when Aimee was just a
small girl, she sat and watched her mother scrutinise
her appearance in the mirror. She watched as she
painted her face and knew then that she was just a painted
beauty, a kind that easily peels off. How little it
mattered though, as her mother smiled at her jewels.
Painted or true, her mother had succeeded through
beauty. So Aimee saw no good in the kind and the patient,
who suffered and accepted their suffering. She chose an
ambition called wickedness and she wore it like a petticoat
beneath the blue ballgown. Aimee was the kind of girl
to get what she wanted. Her mother had taught her
that her face was the only kind of fatalism she could follow.
I am tired of these fairy tales that give undefined shapes.
I'm tired of the dichotomy between the good and the bad.
I'm bored of the light always finding their happily ever after.
Just tell me the story of the dark and tell it properly.
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 1:32 AM UTC
Si mon grand Roy n'eust veincu meinte armee,
Son nom n'iroit, comme il fait, dans les cieux:
Les ennemis l'ont fait victorieux,
Et des veincuz il prend sa renommee.
Si de plusieurs je te voy bien-aimee,
C'est mon trophee, et n'en suis envieux :
D'un tel honneur je deviens glorieux,
Ayant choisy chose tant estimee.
Ma jalousie est ma gloire de voir
Mesmes Amour soumis à ton pouvoir.
Mais s'il advient que de luy je me vange,
Vous honorant d'un service constant,
Jamais mon Roy par trois fois combatant
N'eut tant d'honneur, que j'auray de louange.
814
I still wonder at the beauty of my sister
and the flocks she will draw at 16
piles of phone numbers at her feet,
Psyche incarnate, I the strange sibling
no servant of cinders, she is exalted.
Not that I am unloved, but it is strange to see
how much the contrast shows in family portraits.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
Born in October 1956, Janet Aimee Stephenson started out as a model and actress before moving into film-making. Do you have the 1980 Roxy Music album 𝑭𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 in your collection? The nearer of the two girls is Aimee Stephenson. In the 1980's Aimee and her boyfriend Tim Jackson (producer of Dead Dog Blues) worked in the States on some Roger Corman productions although I don’t know which ones. In 1991 they teamed up with a guy called Sean Manchester who had written a non-fiction book about the so-called "Highgate Vampire." The plan was to make a documentary, and possibly a narrative feature film, about the subject but it never came to anything for various reasons.
In 2001 Aimee and Tim were in Peru, researching a book. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗹 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗱. 𝗔𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗿𝘂𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝟰𝟴% 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲, 𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘀, 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘀𝗼. 𝗧𝗶𝗺 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝟭𝟳 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱. 𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻𝗷𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗺𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘂𝘃𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘂𝘃𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲. 𝗔 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗺𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗽 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗮 𝗵𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗹. 𝗔𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗮 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲, 𝗔𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 (𝘃𝗶𝗮 𝗦𝘄𝗶𝘁𝘇𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱) 𝘁𝗼 𝗦𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗯𝘂𝗿𝘆 – 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆. I can’t imagine the pain she must have gone through, or what Tim Jackson and her other friends and family must have suffered watching her agony.
- Posted by M.J. Simpson
Sep 10, 2024
Sep 10, 2024 at 8:07 PM UTC
Let's not talk of wishes, but instead, let me speak of action
about this delicious woman who makes my heart weak with passion
Alas, 2 perfect hearts nearly three thousand miles apart
Smart enough to ignore it and not give up before I start
every part of me aching to know you as intimately
and intricately as I can such a complex woman
Knowing somehow that we were meant for something greater down the road
Knowing that if I were to lose you, my own heart would implode.
Normally, I am not one to be this sappy, but you should know
All I really want is to make you happy, and see if we can grow.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
Aimee sits beneath the Cypress Tree,
A yellow carnation adorns her hair.
"Pardonnez-moi" she whispers to me
And then she hangs her head in despair.
In confidence I gave her the dagger
She used to pierce my heart,
"Je suis desole," she cries out,
Mourning for the bond she tore apart.
How am I to forgive her treachery
When Ophelia's madness stirs my soul?
"Croyez-moi a nouveau, " She pleads
As the mask of grief takes control.
I walk away with a heavy heart
And try not to see what I leave behind.
Farewell my friend, till we meet again
May your new life treat you kind.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 5:29 AM UTC
I crawled off the Muni
Gagging from too much liquor
Smeared ash from the ground on my face
Sitting next to the Quick Stop, with a quarter of a Miller
I waited for you, Aimee
Someone like you
Innocence that should surround you
You were painted with hues
The roaring of armed pedestrians
A home made of paper and broken glass
You sat next to me for someone to listen
And I was going nowhere fast
I listened and I heard your pain
Too young to know it's not normal
Sweet thing, don't give up
Resist the inevitable
These people will dye your skin new colors
And time will show no mercy
I've waited a lifetime for you to be here with me today
For someone to listen to this advice that I wished someone would have told me.
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 10:55 AM UTC
Born in October 1956, Janet Aimee Stephenson started out as a model and actress before moving into film-making. Do you have the 1980 Roxy Music album 𝑭𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 in your collection? The nearer of the two girls is Aimee Stephenson. In the 1980's Aimee and her boyfriend Tim Jackson (producer of "Dead Dog Blues") worked in the States on some Roger Corman productions although I don’t know which ones. In 1991 they teamed up with a guy called Sean Manchester who had written a non-fiction book about the so-called "Highgate Vampire." The plan was to make a documentary, and possibly a narrative feature film, about the subject but it never came to anything for various reasons.
In 2001 Aimee and Tim were in Peru, researching a book. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗹 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗱. 𝗔𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗿𝘂𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝟰𝟴% 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲, 𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘀, 𝗹𝗲𝗴𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘀𝗼. 𝗧𝗶𝗺 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝟭𝟳 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱. 𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻𝗷𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗺𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘂𝘃𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘂𝘃𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲. 𝗔 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗺𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗽 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗮 𝗵𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗹. 𝗔𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗮 𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲, 𝗔𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 (𝘃𝗶𝗮 𝗦𝘄𝗶𝘁𝘇𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱) 𝘁𝗼 𝗦𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗯𝘂𝗿𝘆 – 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆. I can’t imagine the pain she must have gone through, or what Tim Jackson and her other friends and family must have suffered watching her agony.
- Posted by M.J. Simpson
Oct 5, 2024
Oct 5, 2024 at 9:41 PM UTC
I drop my head and pray to something I don't know to help me through what I'm about do.
I don't belive in god, I don't think that the Bible's true
And evil is in you we just named it satin so we could feel pure
But as I hold my pistol between my hands, I can feel the earth
Gather energy, sit with me and watch my life from every angle.
As Soon as pistols start to light the night with art sparks from every angle give me a glimpse of my next mark
Aimee and fire, no remorse but silence brings another course
Sit and pray that I shot someone who needed to die today
I didn't see there face but I saw my bullet reach in and quickly grab there souls and pull em out stand em up and have em watch as there bodys fall limp
No life left in em, only take a quick glimpse while your arm is reaimin when the bullet falls and you hear casings clinging don't stop till there all shot an you winnin then ask again for forgiveness to feel pure till you look at yo hands and blood runs in river that forms a tear and takes years to wipe away the stain you cant see but causes me pain every silent night every bright day
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
A mirage by night
It's unheard of right?
Deep blue velvet folds
Twinkling with sequins
Visions to behold
A mysterious sight
Appeared my delight
In gossamer gown
Cobwebs falling down?
An apparition
Brought from beyond this life?
spectral cognition
Has she brought me down
I meant her to drown
I saw the vile kiss
Pain and disbelief
I knew naught amiss
Not played for a clown
I left her face down
Mirage it must be
A phantom for me?
I saw in the tomb
I could see her corpse
Flowers all round strewn
From my beloved Aimee
In guilt I must flee
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC