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"hairpins" poems
When I look at myself, I am not beautiful. My feet are twisted and gnarled like the wood of an old tree. My limbs are gangly and thin. My eyes are too large, My hair is too straight and too dark, And my ******* are too small. In the mirror each day, I cannot tell myself I am a radiant woman. But when the music starts, I shine. The notes hit me like rays of the setting sun, and every hue of grace and passion is splayed across The folds of my dress, The arch of my back, The curve of my ankle, The stretch of my throat. Each harmony, each crest and fall of sound and feeling Is a wave that breaks over me, And I am lost. I drown in emotion, in the distinct expression of self that only movement can allow, And in that moment, I forget beauty. I forget love and hatred and pain and joy, and as I forget I am freed. I forget because they no longer belong to me. I have given them to the melody, To the dance which draws them out of me like venom- The next move, fraught with the tension of 'goodbye forever', The next turn, spun by the unraveling of my heart, The next leap, lent weightless wings by the joy of a first kiss, The next slow reach carved from the desperation of 'it's all my fault'. As they leave me, they become me, crashing down on the audience I've also forgotten, burning the bright after-image of my soul into the shadows of theirs. I have never seen myself beautiful. I have never looked. I have forgotten to look. For when the music hits me, it turns me in on myself, and I can see nothing but my own spirit- a shower white hot of sparks- And the cascade of the notes in folds of velvet against my mind. I have never seen beautiful, but I have felt it. It feels like a smooth silk shoe and blisters on my feet, It feels like the trickle of sweat along my brow and the stab of muscle cramps in my legs, and the scrape of hairpins and sequins. It feels like breathlessness when the curtains open. It feels like the worn wooden stage upon which my heart may bleed all it wants. For it does, it gushes, and it is the ugliness of passion. It is terrifying, it is raw, it is light-starved and beaten, it is all I have. And when I get up on a stage, people call it beauty.
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Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 8:11 PM UTC
Swan
When I look at myself, I am not beautiful. My feet are twisted and gnarled like the wood of an old tree. My limbs are gangly and thin. My eyes are too large, My hair is too straight and too dark, And my ******* are too small. In the mirror each day, I cannot tell myself I am a radiant woman. But when the music starts, I shine. The notes hit me like rays of the setting sun, and every hue of grace and passion is splayed across The folds of my dress, The arch of my back, The curve of my ankle, The stretch of my throat. Each harmony, each crest and fall of sound and feeling Is a wave that breaks over me, And I am lost. I drown in emotion, in the distinct expression of self that only movement can allow, And in that moment, I forget beauty. I forget love and hatred and pain and joy, and as I forget I am freed. I forget because they no longer belong to me. I have given them to the melody, To the dance which draws them out of me like venom- The next move, fraught with the tension of 'goodbye forever', The next turn, spun by the unraveling of my heart, The next leap, lent weightless wings by the joy of a first kiss, The next slow reach carved from the desperation of 'it's all my fault'. As they leave me, they become me, crashing down on the audience I've also forgotten, burning the bright after-image of my soul into the shadows of theirs. I have never seen myself beautiful. I have never looked. I have forgotten to look. For when the music hits me, it turns me in on myself, and I can see nothing but my own spirit- a shower white hot of sparks- And the cascade of the notes in folds of velvet against my mind. I have never seen beautiful, but I have felt it. It feels like a smooth silk shoe and blisters on my feet, It feels like the trickle of sweat along my brow and the stab of muscle cramps in my legs, and the scrape of hairpins and sequins. It feels like breathlessness when the curtains open. It feels like the worn wooden stage upon which my heart may bleed all it wants. For it does, it gushes, and it is the ugliness of passion. It is terrifying, it is raw, it is light-starved and beaten, it is all I have. And when I get up on a stage, people call it beauty.
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39
A friend sends her perfumed carriage And high-bred horses to fetch me. I decline the invitation of My old poetry and wine companion. I remember the happy days in the lost capital. We took our ease in the woman's quarters. The Feast of Lanterns was elaborately celebrated - Folded pendants, emerald hairpins, brocaded girdles, New sashes - we competed To see who was most smartly dressed. Now I am withering away, Wind-blown hair, frost temples. I prefer to stay beyond the curtains, And listen to talk and laughter I can no longer share.
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2.6k
A Friend Sends Her Perfumed Carriage
All I want's a man To take me out to coffee, that costs too much Impulsive midnight Wendy's runs With the alter ego of a natural bed of hair, of which He is actually obsessed And will look in anything reflective Longs for the ocean But doesn't spend a moment in the water Wants the sun to warm his skin But bathes in a bottle of SPF 80 'Cause he knows I'll warm him from within I won't call our love hotter than the summer we spent Our temperatures fluctuated faster than the seasons themselves But we always dressed appropriately Bundled or shed accordingly Just to spend our time in the other's climate Mid-day munchies conquer us both In different states of mind Let's hike somewhere Let's sight-see Spend somewhere out of your house Let's take a run at Royal River Lose hairpins you will keep Let's spend each waking second together And in our dreams, while we're asleep
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Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC
Satisfied Customer
She tells him this better be the last one-- the last first love poem he'll write. The title, she says, needs to be brief, something any lover can relate to. Do you want me to leave the room while you write it? No. With one step she's no longer in the living room, she's in the middle of the apartment kitchen. There are two bowls, two spoons in the sink. The bellowing heater acts as background, smoothing the space with its hum. She squeezes a drop of soap into each bowl. Fills both with hot water. Any lover needs to be able to relate, she says, but make sure you set it somewhere romantic-- not Paris, Rome, or anything like that--but next to a body of water. There should be birds. Clouds and rain. Not sunshine. Don't you think? He thinks. She works the bowls over with a dishrag. Dinner, breakfast--whatever you want to call it--was good, she says. Good. She dries the bowls, places them in the cabinet. Have you written a line yet? Yes. Can I read it? Not yet. When I wake up? When you wake up. With a hand to each side of his face, she denotes the spots he missed shaving with her index fingers. Here, she says. Here. Here. The lines run from the corners of his eyes as he smiles. Now she marks these. She kisses him; she doesn't say, I love you. Not yet. Wake me up before you go to work, okay? Okay. With one step she's in the bedroom. The bed's a couch. She pulls the quilt up to her chin. Her body curls. She says, Hang out with me in my dreams. Wouldn't miss it. Good morning. Good morning. A few minutes later her breath goes steady, falling in line with the heater. The sun starts seeping in through the blinds. The loose strands of her hair become gold. He draws the curtains so the light does not wake her. She, he types. In an apartment where once was one-- one toothbrush, one set of sneakers by the door--now there are two. Everything paired off and content in its pairing. Is a woman, he types. He hits the delete key once. Then he types N again. Her makeup bag is on the dining table. Islands of stray powder dot the bag. Her brush is on the coffee table next to the couch. Countless numbers of hairpins are embedded in the carpet. I can't make it in today, he says into the receiver. Yeah, not feeling too good. Thank you, sir. Will do. Alright. Yeah, you too. When he presses in beside her, she says, I've been awake the whole time. Have not. Have too. Did you finish it? Yes. Can I read it? After you actually get some sleep. What'd you call it? Is a Woman. I like that.
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Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
Is a Woman
She tells him this better be the last one-- the last first love poem he'll write. The title, she says, needs to be brief, something any lover can relate to. Do you want me to leave the room while you write it? No. With one step she's no longer in the living room, she's in the middle of the apartment kitchen. There are two bowls, two spoons in the sink. The bellowing heater acts as background, smoothing the space with its hum. She squeezes a drop of soap into each bowl. Fills both with hot water. Any lover needs to be able to relate, she says, but make sure you set it somewhere romantic-- not Paris, Rome, or anything like that--but next to a body of water. There should be birds. Clouds and rain. Not sunshine. Don't you think? He thinks. She works the bowls over with a dishrag. Dinner, breakfast--whatever you want to call it--was good, she says. Good. She dries the bowls, places them in the cabinet. Have you written a line yet? Yes. Can I read it? Not yet. When I wake up? When you wake up. With a hand to each side of his face, she denotes the spots he missed shaving with her index fingers. Here, she says. Here. Here. The lines run from the corners of his eyes as he smiles. Now she marks these. She kisses him; she doesn't say, I love you. Not yet. Wake me up before you go to work, okay? Okay. With one step she's in the bedroom. The bed's a couch. She pulls the quilt up to her chin. Her body curls. She says, Hang out with me in my dreams. Wouldn't miss it. Good morning. Good morning. A few minutes later her breath goes steady, falling in line with the heater. The sun starts seeping in through the blinds. The loose strands of her hair become gold. He draws the curtains so the light does not wake her. She, he types. In an apartment where once was one-- one toothbrush, one set of sneakers by the door--now there are two. Everything paired off and content in its pairing. Is a woman, he types. He hits the delete key once. Then he types N again. Her makeup bag is on the dining table. Islands of stray powder dot the bag. Her brush is on the coffee table next to the couch. Countless numbers of hairpins are embedded in the carpet. I can't make it in today, he says into the receiver. Yeah, not feeling too good. Thank you, sir. Will do. Alright. Yeah, you too. When he presses in beside her, she says, I've been awake the whole time. Have not. Have too. Did you finish it? Yes. Can I read it? After you actually get some sleep. What'd you call it? Is a Woman. I like that.
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83
To the tune "Red Lips" Tired of swinging indolent I rise with a slender hand put right my hair the dew thick on frail blossoms sweat seeping through my thin robe and seeing my friend come stockings torn gold hairpins askew I walk over blushing lean against the door turn my head grasp the dark green plums and smell them.
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1.6k
Tz'u No. 3
Tim sounds nice. I mean reads nice. By what you described, he seems like he treats you alright. Rock n' roll. Movin' on. Proud of you. Sorry he found that letter I wrote you a few weeks ago. Though it means a lot you kept it. Aren't remnants of past lovers interesting? It's not enough for us to take pieces of each other as we press forward, but we also have to leave little trinkets to remind of the good, the bad, and indifferent times. Tara left her favorite burnt, metallic necklace with a blue buddha charm embedded in the carpet when I lived at 2307. Thousands of hairpins were hidden throughout the place when Sam and I split. You threw that gypsy bracelet in the grass by the streetlight -- the one I got you in Colorado. Karen didn't leave much with me. Instead certain shirts and pajama pants of mine -- became hers. She put a smell on them. I still can't wear the clothes; though I also can't get rid of them. I'm a hoarder. Keep all the memories for myself. Do you ever dream of me? No, I haven't seen Easter Island again. I looked Sunday night at O'Brien's. I imagine she was in one of those modern restaurants --  Japanese trees, Muzak -- with her white napkin folded neatly in her lap, drinking ice water, and humoring some fast-talking crazer who has a snowball's chance in hell with her. If I ever find the energy, I'd like to be that crazer. Yes, I'm still night driving. I've got a big adventure planned for tomorrow. I'll tell you all about it. Tell me something honest in your next letter. Something you're afraid to tell me. I'll learn to accept Tim. I promise.
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Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC
A Letter to Anna, 9 Oct. 2012
Tim sounds nice. I mean reads nice. By what you described, he seems like he treats you alright. Rock n' roll. Movin' on. Proud of you. Sorry he found that letter I wrote you a few weeks ago. Though it means a lot you kept it. Aren't remnants of past lovers interesting? It's not enough for us to take pieces of each other as we press forward, but we also have to leave little trinkets to remind of the good, the bad, and indifferent times. Tara left her favorite burnt, metallic necklace with a blue buddha charm embedded in the carpet when I lived at 2307. Thousands of hairpins were hidden throughout the place when Sam and I split. You threw that gypsy bracelet in the grass by the streetlight -- the one I got you in Colorado. Karen didn't leave much with me. Instead certain shirts and pajama pants of mine -- became hers. She put a smell on them. I still can't wear the clothes; though I also can't get rid of them. I'm a hoarder. Keep all the memories for myself. Do you ever dream of me? No, I haven't seen Easter Island again. I looked Sunday night at O'Brien's. I imagine she was in one of those modern restaurants --  Japanese trees, Muzak -- with her white napkin folded neatly in her lap, drinking ice water, and humoring some fast-talking crazer who has a snowball's chance in hell with her. If I ever find the energy, I'd like to be that crazer. Yes, I'm still night driving. I've got a big adventure planned for tomorrow. I'll tell you all about it. Tell me something honest in your next letter. Something you're afraid to tell me. I'll learn to accept Tim. I promise.
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8
unapproachable she, an EMSA driver, framed by gasoline rainbows and held together by hairpins, sat on the back of an ambulance in a Valero station's lot, corner of 2nd and Kelly, a passerby might have thought her waiting, but I knew that to be wrong that radio would go off in the cab, heart attack, broken hip, sideswipe she'd remain right there picking at the sticky barcode on the back of her Bic lighter, she couldn't be bothered with the sound of sirens she had a history and didn't want anymore dates to dictate and memorize she looked through me past Fox Hollow Lane, past the unwatched children, past the rusting panels of ice cream truck, into that eternal place that I thought only French singers' eyes on album covers in the sixties could find--- unapproachable but
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Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 2:13 PM UTC
marie laforêt
I can still hear you saying, "This too shall seem trivial," everytime this city gets me down. I keep a picture of you in my wallet, hell, I've got pictures of you all over the apartment, and even a collection of your hairpins, under the middle cushion of the couch. It's hard not to waste hours writing about the summer I spent all my money on semi-precious stones, and you blew yours on hotel beds. When that Mike-Something weatherman comes on the television, I still remember your remarks about his multitude of chins, and I get sentimental for the sound of my laughter. It was much finer then. I've watched wonderful loves throw bracelets I bought for them, I've watched quaking bodies beg to rekindle the flame, but with you I expected something more. I hope whichever Carolina you settled in treats you well.
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Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 10:34 AM UTC
we built a wailing wall
Sections of hairpins starting to fall relief in the cold as your back hits the wall watching the rain as it shoots through your eyes calming the feelings of all you despise Hearing them scream while you try and curse beginning to shout louder as the bubble bursts Breathin in the dark lookin for a star finding your way as you search for the bar blind but painless, killing the light feeling the room as you grasp for the night then rolling your fingers through a revelling brain wonderin if your duvet will go insane sweating out blood from a memory of a stare calling a name, wondering if she was really ever there. Pinkpricking my iris, the beauty of the eye hearing all the words but hearing a sigh. walkin on the silence, a memory of a tune grasping the carpet in the middle of the room endlessly dancing with an invisible hold watching and falling as the cards start to fold too cheerful to fall, too strong to cheer too beautiful by far to feel this fear running from the wind when the sky begins to turn i watch as my passion begins to smoulder and burn
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Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 2:00 PM UTC
Memories
Love From Afar Under same stars Fall in love they might Their families resent with fight Conflict in distant land Where they stand A rich woman Poor man Dreams tied to hearts Led them to part A modest church In historic square Where they eloped To become forever paired Homes take to fertile hillside Built with heritage pride They start a new name A family they became Over large pond A new world bond Where life begins A story of grins Pasta tins And century old hairpins Upon new ground In a northern town House they found Happy voices inside Fill the silenced sound Life no longer at stake When the warm bread begins to bake Piping hot saucepot Decendents never forgot Even now As is Forever a parking lot.
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Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 12:38 PM UTC
Courageous Love
There be a tavern in the town. Today, will be such a special one. Sunshine and roses. Several carnations. Wedding party, out for fun, Intermingled with everyday drinkers. Outside in the sunny weather. Smokers and drinkers, Men in blue jeans and eye catching black leathers. Today, should be a special day. Women in fanciful fascinators, tight fitting dresses, silky tights. Dancing on tables. Long into the night. A flagon of beer, a bottle of wine. Discussing everything ironically. With the rest of the crowd. Which, one of them is mine or hers or even his. Their drink that is. Opinions change as the beverages flow. Talking regular bull as the drink feeds the flow. The flow of the conversation that is. Loudly. By the end of the night, knowing everyone's biz. There is no volume control, evening flows on twisted tongues. Look left, look right, straight in front of you, they're starting a fight. Noise is enhanced by the wailing of sirens, Those harpies with hairpins, sat on cheap plastic chairs. Look out you lot, the blues and twos are coming. Invading your space, just at that moment you're slapping her face. Such a disgrace. Bundled into the back of the van. Two wrecked wretched women. One stroppy man. If nothing else fuels arguments, drink sure as hell can. (c)LIVVI
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Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 9:49 AM UTC
HEAVY SESH
A trip to the Balkans with family in tow and Cycle Albania to light up the show! There was Erlis and Rimi (and Junid to track) an itinerary that would not look back! First stop, Tirana in the downtown core with cafes and bars and music galore There were hints in the air of a Communist cast which the vibrant city had long moved past A shuttle to Ohrid and cruise of the lake the flora and fauna left no mistake Lunch on the terrace and a trip to St. Naum the monastery …so peaceful, and calm We plateaued to Korçë through a patchwork of farms the herdsmen and sheep held so much charm A tour through the city with cultural notes the cobble stone streets beyond reproach A climb through the mountains in thundering rain to the Sotire Farm what a lovely domain! There were goats and donkeys and kindly old dogs but the favorite of all were the scampering hogs! We slept like babies and left in the morn through the high pine forest and fields of corn Down through the mountains and rivers and streams the “Presidential Descent” was an absolute scream! A freshly paved stretch (roughly 17k!) Jaglin was off and on her way! A guesthouse for lunch in the village of Benje the evening’s Raki would have its revenge! To the sanctuary pools (across the Ottoman bridge) the healing and soothing of miracle ridge Into the valley and over the gorge to Gjirokastër where roots were forged Alleys and walk ways and tight quiet streets castles and churches that met no defeat A storybook city with an historic past we savored the buildings and white wall cast Off to Sarandë …the Ionian coast! a rustic old ferry and ruins, with ghosts The site of Butrint “...from a world gone by” we travelled in time with a lullaby Corfu at a distance Himarë in reach we swam in the ocean and drank on the beach Himarë to Vlorë a spectacular day! 7 turns to the top what a view of the bay! Hairpins and kickbacks so tranquilly warm “...*the thighs are burning like a lightning storm*!” Lunch at the peak and down to Vlorë picking up speed and a mighty roar! Winds off the shoreline sun at a high the smells and sounds as seabirds fly The final stretch with the finish in view we crossed the line …The Peloton Crew!
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Sep 11, 2022
Sep 11, 2022 at 11:54 AM UTC
Back in the Saddle Again (A Cycle Albania Tour)
A trip to the Balkans with family in tow and Cycle Albania to light up the show! There was Erlis and Rimi (and Junid to track) an itinerary that would not look back! First stop, Tirana in the downtown core with cafes and bars and music galore There were hints in the air of a Communist cast which the vibrant city had long moved past A shuttle to Ohrid and cruise of the lake the flora and fauna left no mistake Lunch on the terrace and a trip to St. Naum the monastery …so peaceful, and calm We plateaued to Korçë through a patchwork of farms the herdsmen and sheep held so much charm A tour through the city with cultural notes the cobble stone streets beyond reproach A climb through the mountains in thundering rain to the Sotire Farm what a lovely domain! There were goats and donkeys and kindly old dogs but the favorite of all were the scampering hogs! We slept like babies and left in the morn through the high pine forest and fields of corn Down through the mountains and rivers and streams the “Presidential Descent” was an absolute scream! A freshly paved stretch (roughly 17k!) Jaglin was off and on her way! A guesthouse for lunch in the village of Benje the evening’s Raki would have its revenge! To the sanctuary pools (across the Ottoman bridge) the healing and soothing of miracle ridge Into the valley and over the gorge to Gjirokastër where roots were forged Alleys and walk ways and tight quiet streets castles and churches that met no defeat A storybook city with an historic past we savored the buildings and white wall cast Off to Sarandë …the Ionian coast! a rustic old ferry and ruins, with ghosts The site of Butrint “...from a world gone by” we travelled in time with a lullaby Corfu at a distance Himarë in reach we swam in the ocean and drank on the beach Himarë to Vlorë a spectacular day! 7 turns to the top what a view of the bay! Hairpins and kickbacks so tranquilly warm “...*the thighs are burning like a lightning storm*!” Lunch at the peak and down to Vlorë picking up speed and a mighty roar! Winds off the shoreline sun at a high the smells and sounds as seabirds fly The final stretch with the finish in view we crossed the line …The Peloton Crew!
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Sleeping faces Sleeping thoughts Therefore an escapee Of what nature wrought. Standby callers Standby gaurds Full length mirrors That fall in shards. Extra hairpins Extra sticks Girls that won't Pet dogs with ticks. Walls of iron Walls of glass Men that will never Deal with class. Pride in you and Pride in me Who shall succed? We soon shall see.
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Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 6:11 PM UTC
Sleeping Faces
It seems so hard nowadays to persuade me that I am anything more than a young and dark girl who tends to write down too many terrifying thoughts. I have no other substance or rhyme or reason for any other purpose. I can't put the jumble/tangle/mess of ideas in my head into sequence that another can understand. Even those who tend to think the way I do cannot make the pictures as words into any sort of cloud shape. They used to, and we spoke in languages the natural populace struggled to decode. We his behind palms held to our mouths as we laughed at their furrowed brows and puzzled expression. We controlled them and their thought processes. Now it seems that I have faded too far into our lands in between the stars; even the other people think my jabber too complex to translate. It is futile to rip the pen from my hand, either. I will ***** my fingers with the various hairpins around my bedroom/jail cell. cavern and write in my own blood. It must have the color and consistency of ancient violet ink by now (the type Victorian kings and queens wrote in, mind you) considering all the vats I drink to give me inspiration. If that doesn't function the way I wish, then I will carve the screaming in my frontal lobe in relics and hieroglyphics and runes across the furniture and bookcases and walls in an act of rebellion against your repression of my mind. It grows and grows and the forest in my skull cannot/should not/will not cease until someone/anyone/probably you finally toss me into the "done" pile of the people you discovered, understood, and conquered.
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Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
Repression
It seems so hard nowadays to persuade me that I am anything more than a young and dark girl who tends to write down too many terrifying thoughts. I have no other substance or rhyme or reason for any other purpose. I can't put the jumble/tangle/mess of ideas in my head into sequence that another can understand. Even those who tend to think the way I do cannot make the pictures as words into any sort of cloud shape. They used to, and we spoke in languages the natural populace struggled to decode. We his behind palms held to our mouths as we laughed at their furrowed brows and puzzled expression. We controlled them and their thought processes. Now it seems that I have faded too far into our lands in between the stars; even the other people think my jabber too complex to translate. It is futile to rip the pen from my hand, either. I will ***** my fingers with the various hairpins around my bedroom/jail cell. cavern and write in my own blood. It must have the color and consistency of ancient violet ink by now (the type Victorian kings and queens wrote in, mind you) considering all the vats I drink to give me inspiration. If that doesn't function the way I wish, then I will carve the screaming in my frontal lobe in relics and hieroglyphics and runes across the furniture and bookcases and walls in an act of rebellion against your repression of my mind. It grows and grows and the forest in my skull cannot/should not/will not cease until someone/anyone/probably you finally toss me into the "done" pile of the people you discovered, understood, and conquered.
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1
Constantly I must take off the hairpins, the embroidered shirts, and the lint skirts. I must sit on the wooden stool and unbraid my hair, then proceed to cut it short. I must be able to live without them: the conditioning –their idea of womanhood(genderhood)                    Every once in while I must banish them: to know I can live without them; they are not me ( all those  ideas, all that heavy jewelry) —I am free; I do not weigh
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Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 6:55 PM UTC
Take off your garments ( shedding conditioning)
to own the parallel structure of your house, i would have to peel my own floorboards back, tear them off like day old bandaids, and install plain oatmeal colored tiles to lose the meaning of myself. i would restructure the blueprints of the hallow home of my chest, and leave no room for any florescent lights. the darkness can’t dim the fact that i am brimming with regrets and questions that are quickly turning rotten. the answers are losing their meaning. coming face to face with the wolf, the dread i used to get as the sheep, it’s losing its meaning. when i repainted myself, there were still parts of you lying around like loose hairpins, but i’m leaving no room for the loose hairpins. the fear i had turning on the florescent lights, of seeing my hands painted red with blood i didn’t know i spilled, was becoming a learning experience. all this time, i've been seeing you in my ideal vision: sturdy like steel beams, but there has always been that marshmallows and tooth pick-like foundation you've been keeping up around me. i can't see you as parallel structures anymore. look at me. did you ever actually look at me without disgust of the blood i spilled, and tell me things with honesty?
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Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC
spilled blood foundations
You leave the only way you know how to In the dead of the night No explanation, no note In the morning there will be a hunt There will be excuses made on your behalf 'Must have gone for a jog' 'Would have left to buy orange juice' It takes a while for reality to settle It takes a while for your clothes to be thrown out of the closet It takes a while before the house loses your scent Some people take it a step further They leave with no trace of their existence No pictures on the mantle Beds perfectly made as if they had never been slept in No shoes at the doorway No stray hairpins or guitar picks or socks You begin to doubt your own memory You are left wondering if you loved a ghost You leave the only way you know how to With tearful farewells And eloquent goodbye speeches You stuff personalised letters into their clenched fists You leave parts of yourself in their pockets Beg them to never forget You make sure that there is no more pain than necessary You make sure that you are only gone physically Some people take it a step further They fill bathroom drawers with their soap bars and lotion Their notebooks with half finished stories Are left open on desks They give themselves a reason to visit A reason to stay for a couple seconds Then for coffee Then the night When they move half way across the country They will still call you home You are left loving an unstable traveller You leave the only way you know how to You make it a week long affair There will be screaming Ceramics flung across the room and picture frames smashed Blame passed around like a relay baton You run a race nobody will win You leave making sure your car is chased until the end of the road Apologies dispended as if they are public announcements There is no silence in your absence Your voice still echoes in the hallways Some people take it a step further It takes them months to pack their bags Sometimes years There will be days shrouded with hatred They leave in parts One strand of hair at a time They steal one heart beat at a time Leaving you cold and numb in the end They threaten to disappear so many times That when they finally do you cannot believe it You are left unable to love again
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Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 5:55 AM UTC
The Way You Leave
You leave the only way you know how to In the dead of the night No explanation, no note In the morning there will be a hunt There will be excuses made on your behalf 'Must have gone for a jog' 'Would have left to buy orange juice' It takes a while for reality to settle It takes a while for your clothes to be thrown out of the closet It takes a while before the house loses your scent Some people take it a step further They leave with no trace of their existence No pictures on the mantle Beds perfectly made as if they had never been slept in No shoes at the doorway No stray hairpins or guitar picks or socks You begin to doubt your own memory You are left wondering if you loved a ghost You leave the only way you know how to With tearful farewells And eloquent goodbye speeches You stuff personalised letters into their clenched fists You leave parts of yourself in their pockets Beg them to never forget You make sure that there is no more pain than necessary You make sure that you are only gone physically Some people take it a step further They fill bathroom drawers with their soap bars and lotion Their notebooks with half finished stories Are left open on desks They give themselves a reason to visit A reason to stay for a couple seconds Then for coffee Then the night When they move half way across the country They will still call you home You are left loving an unstable traveller You leave the only way you know how to You make it a week long affair There will be screaming Ceramics flung across the room and picture frames smashed Blame passed around like a relay baton You run a race nobody will win You leave making sure your car is chased until the end of the road Apologies dispended as if they are public announcements There is no silence in your absence Your voice still echoes in the hallways Some people take it a step further It takes them months to pack their bags Sometimes years There will be days shrouded with hatred They leave in parts One strand of hair at a time They steal one heart beat at a time Leaving you cold and numb in the end They threaten to disappear so many times That when they finally do you cannot believe it You are left unable to love again
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58
Wooden mouths engraved with shadows of stillborns Hairpins stir the wildfires that reside in my head My spine is an abortive memoir that nobody wishes to read Mists ablaze with unbound petals kissing the sea to sleep
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Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 12:44 AM UTC
Stillborn Ghost
Sections of hairpins starting to fall, relief in the cold as you cling to the wall. Watching the rain as it shoots thru your eyes, calming the feelings of all that you despise. Hearing them screamin while you try and curse, beginning to shout louder as the bubble bursts. Breathing the the dark looking for a star, marking your territory as you slide thru the bar. Blind but painless, killing the light, feeling the room as you grasp for the night; then rolling your fingers thru your revelling brain, wondering if your duvet will go insane. Sweating out the blood from the memory of a stare, calling a name, wondering is she was there. Pinpricking the iris, the beauty of the eye, hearing all the words in the inch of a sigh. Walking on the magic of the silence of a tune, grasping the carpet in the middle of your room. Endlessly dancing with an invisible hold, watchin and falling as the cards begin to fold. To amazing to fall, too strong to cheer, too beautiful by far to feel this fear. don't run from the wind when the wind beings to turn, instead ignite your soul and let your passion burn.....
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Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
Don't run....(Age 13)
I will chase you down If you don’t love me Fashion hairpins from Fish ribs Bring myself to anti-climax Thinking of your Valleys and hills Carry buckets of water Over all the trails I’ll teach you the value Of holding my hand And the separate pleasure Meeting for moonlight sonata In the middle of daybreak And I will do it Drag the entire world down To fit in your palm I will do it I’d like to meet you in a daydream On the foothills of the Appalachia Spreading seeds and carrying My harvest basket I’d meet you for board game night Across the table And I’d meet you at a quarter past three The dead silent night Lift up my arms and bask in it Surrounded by all of you The stars were never this bright until tonight
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Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 1:41 AM UTC
My Universe
The radio gave me a few thoughts that the rocks agreed upon between basket cases, the ones that we can’t speak and know all about – we aren’t bothered, they’re like the rivers of stories on our palms. Everything’s gone to **** while you say not to forget all we have, like the scattered hairpins, don’t dare forget your *** in the drawer that haunts my running lows (welcome, ghosts). This introduction was begged, old, all the little loves turned to stone whether I liked it or not. Just a being, learning the tears from the world’s claws. “Darling, I’m lost.” http://suchpoeticthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/10/digging.html
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Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 8:38 PM UTC
Welcome, Ghosts.
Spending my time trying to memorize every line you gave me so sweetly. I ain't no pretender n' I ain't no big spender but have to put up the cash n' believe to the last in the gift that I send her. Dreams, they're dangerous things. And their triggers' hairpins: too much faith or too much stock and they go off half-cocked. They are all hope at first but in short not what they were. ¡Que va! Regardless, there's something to learn. What was glimpsed in dark eyes leaves me yearning inside, so fiercely. I can't help but give in and see what she's seeing and put up the time to move down this line and kiss her again.
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Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
Dreams, dangerous.
i've heard thunder and seen lightning every day this week. had some tough goodbyes over lunch, wide smiles morphing into pixelated grins. there's been tears and short breaths but there's freedom too. her hairpins still in my car and the passenger seat remains adjusted to her. so maybe this isn't the end, just life taking a different shape.
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Aug 17, 2021
Aug 17, 2021 at 8:39 PM UTC
hairpins
The morning was cloudy when we set out on a long drive, just the two of us, our car laden with much luggage and a pile of dreams. That was long ago, the 'once upon a time' of a distant era when they shook hands and hugged in farewell, when they didn't wear cloth masks that hid their fears. Overcast skies turned, as we drove on, into blazing blinding horizons bereft of clouds and brown barren landscapes bereft of green. and we thought we'd turn brown too-- we, our car, our tires, our breath, our thoughts-- merging into all that aridness. But soon we drove into winding hairpins, up and up and up, then down and down into verdant vistas where, whizzing past us, were fat cows with big udders and their happy calves and paddies and green leaves with their trees and pregnant streams and men and women dreaming all their dreams and we thought we'd soon arrive. Did i fall asleep at the wheel or am i still in a dream? Or was some spell broken at the stroke of high noon when dreams turn into nightmares? Or did we time travel into now, into here, into this strange new era where fear reigns and masks rule? where the only remnant of our past is Death and the pain of separation? Maybe we'll wake up and resume driving maybe this is only some resetting of Time, some reboot to crush a bug in the software that charts all our maps. Maybe we'll see again the simple things we knew back then, when we knew how to smile, how to hug, to love. Meanwhile, we stare. at a rotating circle that keeps saying loading... loading... loading ...
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Jun 8, 2021
Jun 8, 2021 at 9:57 PM UTC
The Road Trip
The morning was cloudy when we set out on a long drive, just the two of us, our car laden with much luggage and a pile of dreams. That was long ago, the 'once upon a time' of a distant era when they shook hands and hugged in farewell, when they didn't wear cloth masks that hid their fears. Overcast skies turned, as we drove on, into blazing blinding horizons bereft of clouds and brown barren landscapes bereft of green. and we thought we'd turn brown too-- we, our car, our tires, our breath, our thoughts-- merging into all that aridness. But soon we drove into winding hairpins, up and up and up, then down and down into verdant vistas where, whizzing past us, were fat cows with big udders and their happy calves and paddies and green leaves with their trees and pregnant streams and men and women dreaming all their dreams and we thought we'd soon arrive. Did i fall asleep at the wheel or am i still in a dream? Or was some spell broken at the stroke of high noon when dreams turn into nightmares? Or did we time travel into now, into here, into this strange new era where fear reigns and masks rule? where the only remnant of our past is Death and the pain of separation? Maybe we'll wake up and resume driving maybe this is only some resetting of Time, some reboot to crush a bug in the software that charts all our maps. Maybe we'll see again the simple things we knew back then, when we knew how to smile, how to hug, to love. Meanwhile, we stare. at a rotating circle that keeps saying loading... loading... loading ...
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73
So many options hurtle through my mind Latching themselves to logic for no more than pit stops Ideas dive through chicanes And screech around hairpins And always returning to the same place: Panic. As each passes I try to leap aboard To cling on to speeding concepts But I am either knocked to the ground Or flung to the side And crumple into a rag-doll of Confusion. But lying here, wrecked, I lose sight of the race For a while, the sky, the grass, the air all stand still, My vision returns, filled now with clarity Colours contrast and no longer fade And simply, in the midst of my mistake: Peace.
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May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
Rag-Doll