"kristen" poems
Author: Kristen Stevens
Current mood: contemplative
That would be my nephew. When I came home from work the other day, I sat down in the chair and from out of nowhere Anthony pops up and yells "I'm Ironman!" complete with mask. then I hear a giggle and and he pulls the mask off and says "don't worry Nini. It's just me." (Cause you know I looked worried ;) Anyway, he started asking me what I was going to be for Halloween and could we get candy like we did last year. I assured him that yes candy would be forthcoming. As to the costume, I had no clue. Still don't. I've been thinking snowman 'cause it's bound to be cold that night. If you have any good ideas...well they are bound to be better than mine.
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 8:01 AM UTC
Author: Kristen Stevens
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Current mood:outside the loop
And yes I know that's a plagiarization (real word??? no matter) of a stupid show...but you shouldn't watch it anyway so there.
ME! Last week, as you may have heard was not of the fun, so this week in comparison rocked! And, yes, I am going to end every sentence with exclamations! (it's for the sarcastic effect don't panic) As such I’m going to let YOU write my entry…you’ll see.
Once upon a time there was a ______ (adj.) girl. She loved her xbox very much. One day an evil ________(noun) descended on the precious object and smote it with the fury of _______(name of a god). The girl ___________(verb) for many minutes staring at the remains of her once beloved box. She promptly went to the other, less amusing, magic box and asked for _______(noun). She____________(adv.) navigated her way through treacherous and distracting destinations. As she approached the official site, a most ___________(adj.) thing occurred. The destination was ________(noun). Much like the construction in her hamlet, it prevented her from registering her distress. Days _______(noun) slowly, with still no relief for ________(pronoun). What’s a girl to do when ________(frustrating situation)? In her profession the customers would not appreciate it if she came after them with___________(weapon of choice from popular video game).
It had been one week, since the demise of _______(object). She no longer was _______(emotion). The days were literally ________(color). Rain fell _______(verb ending in –ing) the streets. There was still no reply from the xbox deity. Thus ends the tale of piteous woe.
This girl has been considering swearing fealty to another more worthy gaming god! There are three systems and I own two of them! Don’t make me get the third! This is a threat! (not you guys, the __________{insert favorite utterance} at Microsoft) goes away quietly muttering to self unkind and unpleasant things that should be done to xbox distributors
By the way, how was that I figure, if you’re going to take the time to read it. I should give you something fun to do at the same time. Who doesn’t like madlibs? Huh?
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 8:23 AM UTC
Author: Kristen Stevens
Current mood: frustrated
Anthony got a firetruck Lego set. The packaging says "ages 5-12". It also makes the claim "designed for easy building and instant play." Now I know he's only 4 but he's smart and not that far from 5 comparatively. I on the other hand am 28. Well outside the parameters age wise. Yet, this smallish box of tiny toys baffled me for over an hour. I have the directions, I've dug through the pieces, and am still mystified on occasion. As I'm searching for yet another microscopic piece of siren or whatever it was, I'm thinking..."5 years! I can't see any 5 yr-old sticking with this for this long without losing his mind. Then Mom would take it away because of the temper tantrum and never gets built. This is stupid! Where did that tiny loopy thing go?...etc" What part of an hour is "instant play" do they not own a dictionary? I could tell them.
Then once it's together, somehow Anthony keeps taking the windshield off. He's not actively disassemble it. He's just rolling back and forth on the floor going "whoo-whoo!" Lego's the most touchy toy on the planet. Maybe he'll get some more when he's 15.
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 7:52 AM UTC
Return trip from the borderlands
and Maria, she's driving though
she's had a little too much based
on the tremors and the listless
drift of the party bus from left lane
to right.
I'm in my Chuck Taylor's,
the Warhols, the $795 collector's,
thumbing through my girlfriend's
Facebook timeline. She just bought
a Picasso, a self-portrait. I want
to stab her with the long end
of my ****** shoes. They're
on the carpeted floor. Jenny's
on the carpeted floor too. I roll
her on her side so she doesn't
choke on her own ***** Hero.
The path lights overhead start
blinking and somebody, Kate
or Kristen, I get them mixed up,
starts screaming, "Strobe." We're
in the left lane going ninety, ninety-five.
The right lane looks weak.
Jenny mumbles something as I step over her.
"What's that?" I ask.
"Read the quiet book. Love the quiet book.
the whole human experience captured
in twenty-six scattered symbols."
Someone's in the ****** laughing.
We go into a tunnel and everything
goes quiet and thoughtful and black.
Breathe in through the nose and out
the same way. Click the heels together
and wait.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 10:28 PM UTC
The Boy called Tony by his grandpa and others, lights up his corner of the world. Be it kids or very old Big Kids,(adults who are kids at heart) wherever he goes, “Hi. My name is Tony. What is your name?” Usually following this introduction, if the response is received warmly is, “How old are you?” Than after that is decided, “My grandpa is really old.”
Kindergarten year saw the two of them at the Arctic Circle most days after school. The older “Big Kids”would see him come into Arctic Circle and wait for their turn to talk to the Boy called Tony.
Many times they stopped at Tony’s and Gpa’s table and talked before leaving. New people who had not talked to him before but “listened in” on Tony and Friends conversation, they would then stop at the table to say what a “delightful little boy he is”.
At the time of this writing, sitting in Arctic Circle, he is regaling a mother about the fine points of Pac Man and Frogger on Gpa’s phone. Let’s see, Gpa had that phone for years and did not know Pac Man and Frogger were on it. And so it goes…
And so it went… everywhere he went Tony learned People’s names and remembered them. Later, where ever he happened to see them, “I know you! You work at… or I saw you at…” and the conversation would go off in a multitude of directions… eventually.
One Saturday morning in January after the “BIG GAME!” (see note) Tony, his Aunt Kristen and Gpa were entering IHOP for breakfast. He bounced through the door still wearing his basket ball uniform as an older couple was exiting. Gpa was holding the door for the older “big kids” when the woman got all excited and said to Gpa, “Isn’t that the Arctic Circle Boy?” At which Gpa replied with certainty, “Yes it is.”
Graduating from kindergarten, if such a thing is possible,the class sang a song “Don’t Talk to Strangers”. Gpa thought at the time it was a scary little piece. But what does he know. Later in the afternoon a couple came walking toward Tony. Tony observed them approaching, he studied them intently, and then just as they were going by him, he called out, “HELLO STRANGERS!” Gpa thinks they are the only strangers he really knows.
——————(c)09-12-2011————————-
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 1:52 AM UTC
*We lose so much talent to addiction
Some of you may not care, but I do
This is my tribute to them*
**Alan Wilson
Canned Heat
Jimi Hendrix
The Jimi Hendrix Experience
Janis Joplin
Jim Morrison
The Doors
Brian Cole
The Association
Billy Murcia
New York Dolls
Danny Whitten
Crazy Horse
Gram Parsons
The Stooges
Gary Thain
Uriah Heep
Elvis Presley
Gregory Herbert
Blood, Sweat & Tears
Keith Moon
The Who
Sid Vicious
*** Pistols
Lowell George
Little Feat
Jimmy McCulloch
Wings
John Bonham
Led Zeppelin
Darby Crash
Germs
James Honeyman-Scott
Pretenders
Pete Farndon
Pretenders
Paul Gardiner
Tubeway Army
Gary Holton
Heavy Metal Kids
Phil Lynott
Thin Lizzy
Andrew Wood
Mother Love Bone
Brent Mydland
Grateful Dead
Steve Clark
Def Leppard
Johnny Thunders
New York Dolls
David Ruffin
The Temptations
Kristen Pfaff
Hole
Shannon Hoon
Blind Melon
Bradley Nowell
Sublime
John Kahn
Jerry Garcia Band
Jonathan Melvoin
The Smashing Pumpkins
Billy Mackenzie
Associates
West Arkeen
The Outpatience
Nick Traina
Link 80
John Baker Saunders
Mad Season
Bobby Sheehan
Blues Traveler
Wes Berggren
Tripping Daisy
Allen Woody
The Allman Brothers Band
Carl Crack
Atari Teenage Riot
Layne Staley
Alice in Chains/Mad Seasons
Kurt Cobain
Nirvana
Dee Dee
Ramones
Robbin Crosby
Ratt
John Entwistle
The Who
Howie Epstein
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
Jeremy Michael Ward
De Facto
Tim Hemensley
GOD
Dave Schulthise
The Dead Milkmen
Rick James
Kevin DuBrow
Quiet Riot
Ike Turner
Gidget Gein
Marilyn Manson
Jay Bennett
Wilco
Michael Jackson
The Rev
Avenged Sevenfold
Paul Gray
Slipknot
Mike Starr
Alice in Chains
Amy Winehouse**
*We are not bad people, we just have bad ways
Yet, not many understand*
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
i used to sleep on my stomach when it was upset,
now i smoke these cigarettes to fill the void of a little boy destroyed,
you say we are friends though no response to text messages,
statuses of shut up, your words are all hogwash its true,
i don't love any woman by you,
though the search continues and i've tried other venues,
the only place i should be is your room.
i put my heart in an ice box because of you,
our love was once fresh as morning dew
and my heart has always been gold,
though it may seem freeze dried and stone,
i'm used to this feeling of alone,
your arms should've always been my home,
your words are all hogwash, and all of my heart left is blue.
i remember the day that i knew,
hey you began exercise, ***** you can't run from the truth.
Alabama slammers need slow vermouth,
through all of the drugs we've consumed,
and all of the stunts with your crew,
i can't feel for another there's no other woman but you.
Josh and i go hunting for cheek,
see a foxy lady and yell, 'juice'
can't help but think of brownies and knowing Kristen Stewart was doomed,
my heart it only beats for you, i know it sounds sad but its true.
to all of the hearts that i've harmed,
i never lied and said i was in love,
though thats what i wanted and i'm so, so sorry,
i can not forget her, brown eyes are all similar,
i should hide my poetry, words sometimes come to me,
without any sympathy yours cut right into me,
like that of a guillotine, intent for a head off of me,
i never thought harm to you, might of lost my temper for that i am sorry,
dried all of my tears on tees from salvation army,
hey you seem to blame just me, but did you watch the tapes on the TV screen?
im not sure but maybe that might be why i still love her,
no you're not ready to be a mother, we could have been family,
just leaning, waiting for you to come back to me,
god ****** lower cased, your crooked lower teeth,
i want my tongue inside of your cheeks,
but you'll never know until you read, all these things i've wrote since you left me,
this all sounds so self-centered, that was never me,
anything i did wrong was not make you happy
cause that's always what i want to see, maybe when i'm the man i am supposed to be,
cooking, tennis, teaching anarchy, your words are all hogwash,
my eyes are all that you need.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
Torture.
Trickery.
Disobedience.
Failure.
Disappointment.
Trigger death and more.
Cauldron boil, mix thy ingredients quite well.
Hear my plea's as I cast my forbidden spell.
Hokas-pokas,
Let her focus.
Make her see what she's done to me.
Turn her living bell into a torturous Hell.
Make Kristen Scott a memory long forgot.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
e3Author: Kristen Stevens
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
happy thoughts
Current mood: blissed out
Going to try something new for this one. I'm going to be happy or an approximate facsimile of it. Now you may ask, how does one go about getting into a happy frame of mind?
-Well, I find browsing the bumper sticker app is a good way if you are using your computer as a sole ***** of happiness.
-Watching the HMV hell video on my main page makes me giggle like the school girl (let's face it I was never a giggly school girl but the metaphor works)
-Thinking about how few people will actually survive the coming zombie apocalypse due to their utter stupidity finally catching up with them. (oh, I believe I’m getting giddy now)
-2012 because whatever is/is not going to happen people are going to lose their minds and well, I call it culling of the genetic herd.
-Milk, it does a body good. (I know, I know for any grammatical stickler out there it should be “does…well” but that’s not the line)
-Dr. Who, although I’m still waiting for my TARDIS boarding pass one day my doctor will come
Ok I’m going to quit now. If I get any happier, I might do some permanent damage to my cynical synapses. contented sigh
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 8:35 AM UTC
Author: Kristen Stevens
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Current mood:rather put out
So I've been on vacation...wait that should be capitalized it was of great importance. Allow me to begin again.***So I've been on VACATION. Which was great, by the way, thanks for asking. I returned to work with admittedly less enthusiasm than I should have had. However the news that awaited me put the smile back on my face.
Someone that I did not really get along with quit. (Oh fabulous day!) That is the thrilling part the dismayed part is upcoming. A coworker pointed out a flaw in my joy. I now need to find a new lure for the apocalypse that feels like it's coming any day now. If you have any suggestions I need a new applicant, because the people I've agreed to see to safety probably would not like a change in their status.
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 8:16 AM UTC
Author: Kristen Stevens
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Current mood: feel like breaking the rules
I have this friend, we'll call her Kat,that insists I be social at least once a month. As per her request she wants all the Sept. birthdays to go have dinner. I think it's an excellent idea. We are fun girls. Although that many of us in a public setting together might make people run for cover. In addition to the social dinner, I went to a Pampered Chef party where Kat was also attending, yet she says it doesn't count as my social event for the month. She won't even count my upcoming trip as "social". Phooey on her! She has said "if I'm not there it doesn't count." I say she was there so it should count but apparently that rule is flexible. So I will have 3 if not 4 outings in Sept. I don't know about this. I might go into overload.
I should try to make the point that any isolation I'm trying to achieve is merely training for the inevitable day when _________(fill in the blank) happens and we who are left are living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
[ASIDE:wow that sentence was long and overly complicated and run-on as well] I wonder if she would accept that response. " But Kat I'm trying to simulate how alone I will be when the majority of the people are dead, mutated, or the walking dead. I need to train, 2012 is fast approaching." Nah, she'll never buy it. sigh
Oh also there's a new training manual at work I think it's next month's staff rec. Everyone needs to supplement their Z.S.G. knowledge.
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 8:09 AM UTC
A POOR GIRL
Matloob Bokhari
In a fortified city –land of social divide,
Where lordly rulers, sadly greedy reside.
I saw a girl, searching a scrap of food.
Hunger poured out from her innocent face.
Pain and poverty had silenced her smile.
On my question, stammering, she replied;
“In poverty, I am walking on thorns of life;
Parent without shelter, pass nights in a tent
And days of sorrow in the shadow of tree.”
Listening this, my eyes wept with tears.
Kissing her ***** and tired hands, I said:
“Love you, my poor girl; your story is so sad.”
Looking at me, my Murshud smilingly said,
“O created for Eternal Bliss, Give and will be given,
True joy in life is to share a slice of bread
Live a simple life; so others may simply live.”
COMMENTS : A POOR GIRL
Kristen Scott: Poignant, heartfelt, and an awakening against female brutality ~ well-done my friend, Kristen
Gary Leikas: Really lovely, tender and compassionate poem !! Poverty is more sad if that comes from the poor spirit. Love is pure gold !! Love is the only one that we have a real treasure . A beautiful piece.
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 3:17 AM UTC
COME, AYE COME!
Matloob Bokhari
Come, aye Come!
O the beauty of heaven!
Night in richly coloured dress is welcoming, come!
O the glory of stars!
Night stars like diamonds are welcoming, come!
O the ornament of moon!
In your absence, bright moon is welcoming,
Come!
O the queen of sky!
Scented air in night freshness is welcoming, come!
O the north polar star!
Moth orbiting around light has utterly consumed
Without form or body, is a part of beauty, come!
O the queen of light!
Carol of birds is playing melody sweet in tune.
My heart beating; cold callous gale started blowing.
Night has rolled hours away; moist has dampened my heart.
Come, aye come!!
COMMENTS : COME AYE COME
Kristen Scott: I love this very VERY much. This is hauntingly beautiful and each word of the poem is flowing in my veins like the poetry of my favorit poet, Federico Garcia Lorca..
Vern Ford : I can almost hear Buffy Saint Marie singing your absolutely breathtaking poems!
Laura Oliva Palacio: Magnifique voila!!!! What a beautiful poem! With simple words, but of great significance make one clearly perceived the sweet and sensitive young hearts have inspiration in the bright universe of love and the infinite .. Thank you so much for sharing Matloob !!!
Laura Grillo Laveglia: I love your poem. It is written in Edwardian style and this I adore!!!
Neil Perry :Refreshing and magical.
Gary Leikas: ahhhh . . . . mesmerizing music and thought . .
Kevin M. Hibshman : Amazingly beautiful...
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
Written by my daughter in Honors English Class
By Kristen Stevens
As I stared, transfixed by the TV box, a smaller drawer caught my eye. I leaned nearer to read the title, but could find none. I stared in wonder, pondering if this box was really mine. Inside were hundreds of cards. My hand began to shake as I sat on the floor and began reading the cards. I was astonished at what the cards brought to mind. Had I really done that? Did I really say that? These things had happened years ago.
I must have spent days pouring over this one box. Some of these things I remembered. Others were barely saved from the brink of the chasm of forgetfulness. There was one certain card that I couldn’t recall at all. Try as I might, the memory would not come. Nowhere did I find it hidden away in the dark recesses of my mind. This bothered me a great deal.
I came to another card. This one I remember only too well. I closed my eyes and I am reliving this memory. It saddens me a little, but I would not trade it for the world. I pressed my back against the cool surface of the cabinets and just relived that day. I hear the sounds and the voices. I smell the breeze and taste the sharp aroma of the long forgotten time.
I have been in the room for weeks and still no end to the box. I have forgotten what the title was. The first card I couldn’t remember still fascinates me, even though it was followed by many more I couldn’t place. I flip back through the ever lengthening file. I take the card out and close the drawer. I carefully examined the front. A corner is barely visible under the dust. The title on the box is “Other People’s Impression of Me”. Now, I understand why many of the cards I came across, I couldn’t recall. Some of the cards were thoughts of people I have passed on the street. Others were of people I have just smiled at when it looked like they were having a rough day. Some are from children I have helped or people in cars to which I have waved. All of these people were affected by me and their impression of me has been recorded. They were secreted out of their minds and into my vast file.
All at once, I am back in my bed, wondering if it was all a dream. No, I still clutch that first card in my hand. From now on, I will be cautious of what I say and do to people. Call it a “wake-up call”, if you wish.
Sep 11, 2010
Sep 11, 2010 at 2:55 PM UTC
Author: Kristen Stevens
Sunday, January 24, 2010
I was not aware of that.
Current mood: amused
Just the other day I had a confused customer call on the phone. [side note: why do people say that "call on the phone"... how else would they be calling?] Anyway, this none to with it lady called the store (ah, that's better) asking about nifty books like "riding a silver broomstick" and "book of shadows". It took me more than five minutes to divine that these were the books that interested her. Then another short yet seemingly infinite amount of time passes while I get my crystal ball working. She wants us to mail them to her. Great, I can do this. So we get the books ordered. Then she starts explaining to me that I could send them and she would pay for them on the 1st. HUH? you want me to give you product and assume you will remember to pay me in 2 weeks? Also how do I get the order released when they haven't been paid for yet? I explained several times I can't do that; while she countered with promises to pay when her paycheck arrived. Why did she need the spell book to make money magically grow on trees? All in all she was funny.
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 10:11 AM UTC
To most breathing is a natural thing.
The body must take in air to stay alive.
I though sometimes forget.
My body forgets how my lungs work.
Then I shut down.
No air enters my system.
You are not breathing.
Trying to catch my breath.
Yes I am fine.
Until panic sets in.
Panic attack makes it harder to breath.
God I'm so ugly when I cry.
Kristen made that go through my head.
Telling me that countless times.
I need to stop crying.
I need melody.
She helps me when **** happens.
It's okay just go to class.
The teacher will let you go to the bathroom for a minute.
I walked quickly on the verge of tears.
Eyes red and puffy.
This is how someone would react if they got dumped by their lover.
Not because they couldn't breath.
I locked eyes with rianna.
Oh **** now she knows I'm a wimp.
Crying when I can't breath.
Almost to class when the bell rang.
Can I use the bathroom I said.
Yes grab the pass.
T
R
I
G
G
E
R
That caused a full panic attack.
The simple words allowing me to go to the bathroom caused me to break down.
The teacher looked at me.
What's going on sweetie???
She asked concerned.
C-can't breath!
The school nurse came and walked me down to her office.
Your okay she said.
Now tell me what has been going on?
I can't breath!
Yes more specifically.
I ran and couldn't breath then I had a panic attack.
Yes this is my life.
Barely breathing sometimes.
Having panic attacks over little things.
This is how I live.
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 3:19 AM UTC
A single page of her
fills her lover's world
ardent appetite to be cradled like the
adoration of a mortal unexceptional goddess
who sometimes has high-heeled shoes of clay
leaves her and her lover to waver among
joys shared blissfully diffused by tears shed quietly
A single page of her is written
with the fundamental spirit of a lust for love
an ambition to live loves dream
which is central to every man and woman's heart
A single page of her is provender for the soul
with a common language of immortal romantic notions
A single page of her
just a human being
a lover of another human being
just an exceptional love within an uncomplicated heart
a softly written cage open to lights of loving warmth
A single word of her
fills the canvas with brilliant colors
takes on the shapes of this feverish love affair
takes on the hue's of these hearts at ease
that wrestle each other's naked souls
then cleave to each other with a dire thirst
A single word of her statuesque illustration
histories and futures softly spoken in the animated night
expressions of this average celestial throne
this world of exceptionally average simple beauties
A single word of hers
that I have never actually heard
but knowing its there unspoken in her eyes
just a human being
A single picture of her
fills a poet's hands with rich verse
words laden with potent essence within their expression
as wild as the wind in the deepest part of the rain
as enriched as breathing exaltation and splendor
her photograph pasted to the mirror's edge
as if she were a reflection of dreams
as if perfection had a name
A single picture of her
embroidered by a light that shines
only from some souls
a warmth that greets every passing stranger
an intensity that verges on fire
A single moment of her time
leaves impressions upon you that will breathe within you
growing in the remembrance
like roses upon the vine
interwoven and lovely in the warm light
just a human being
but she will always be
just Kristen
© 2017 mark john junor all rights reserved
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC
Lindsey's a diary entry for everyday she's yet to live.
Full of science fiction, but that's just a guess I'd give.
Hannah'd bet against the world, smoke goes right to her mind.
Have problems when she's sixty, having a blast at the time.
Ryan, he must be fine, he's got a brain and a lot to show.
Loaned him a couple bills, but who says to him I do not owe...
And as for me, I think I'm alright,
or at least I'll get by.
I wonder if they think about me,
but Hell, I love you guys.
Steve it seems lost touch with everyone so I don't feel so dumb.
Once at each other's throats, but at least that's finally done.
Aaron's staring at a new direction, best of wishes are for him.
I can't see me ever being married, I wish the best again.
Kristen couldn't learn from her problems, committed the same mistake.
Over and over, time, well time just starts to come too late.
And as for me, I think I'm alright,
or at least I'll get by.
I wonder if they think about me,
but Hell, I love you guys.
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 7:28 AM UTC
Joseph,
These past 3 years I have been seeing you and talking to you about the difficulties with my parents and being happy with myself. I told you about how I am not happy at college and I am trying to transfer schools. But I had some time to myself today and I realized that it’s not this school that I am unhappy with it is myself. I love being alone; spending time watching Netflix or just roaming around to new places, but then I become lonely. I do not know how to fully interact with others and that scares the **** out of me. I try to be myself but there’s this massive wall with which only alcohol can put a crack in that others can reach me to. Kate is the only one who has put the biggest crack as if she can poke her eye through the hole to see me, but I keep patching up each crack the best I can. I don’t know how to let others in and I don’t know if I want people to reach me. I feel like I need to go away for a while to a place where others feel the same as I do. I try to think of places to go to where I can find myself but I keep thinking of staying in hospitals because the only other people that feel this way are ******* crazy.
I don’t feel like I’m insane but I need help.
Best regards,
Kristen
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
kristen is a magazine girl
beautifully portrayed in the glossy pictures of fashion
wonderfully articulated on silver screen
down to earth girl with a wickedly beautiful presence
thouse green eyes are simply magical
in paris fashion lace she is delicious
but her beauty is best illustrated in t-shirt and jeans
down to earth girl full of life
she shines in spite of hollywood
standing beautiful in sunlight rather than limelight
dreamy poet and artist
weaving her hearts light into beautiful visions of ink
legendary magazine girl
kristen stewart is one of a kind
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 7:57 AM UTC
A single page of her
fills her lover's world
ardent appetite to be cradled like the
adoration of a mortal unexceptional goddess
who sometimes has high-heeled shoes of clay
leaves her and her lover to waver among
joys shared blissfully diffused by tears shed quietly
A single page of her is written
with the fundamental spirit of a lust for love
an ambition to live loves dream
which is center to every man and womans heart
A single page of her is provender for the soul
with a common language of immortal romantic notions
A single page of her
just a human being
with another human being
just an exceptional love within an uncomplicated heart
softly written open to lights of loving warmth
A single word of her
fills the canvas with brilliant colors
takes on the shapes of this feverish love affair
takes on the hue's of these hearts at ease
that wrestle each other naked souls
then cleave to each other with a dire thirst
A single word of her statuesque illustration
histories and futures softly spoken in the animated night
expressions of this average celestial throne
this world of exceptional average simple beauties
A single word of hers
that i have never actually heard
but knowing its there unspoken in her eyes
just a human being
A single picture of her
fills a poet's hands with rich verse
words laden with potent essence within their expression
as wild as the wind in the deepest part of the rain
as enriched as breathing exaltation and splendor
her photograph pasted to the mirror's edge
as if she were a reflection of dreams
as if perfection had a name
A single picture of her
embroidered by a light that shines
only from some souls
a warmth that greets every passing stranger
an intensity that verges on fire
A single moment of her time
leaves impressions upon you that will breathe within you
growing in the remembrance
like roses upon the vine
interwoven and lovely in the warm light
just a human being
but she will always be
just Kristen
© 2018 mark john junor all rights reserved
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
I have no idea what to write
For the first time since I began poetry.
All of the thoughts inside of my head,
Are as clear to me as a pitch black night.
A night void of stars and the moon,
There is no sound,
And not a soul to be found,
Save me, all alone.
This is how I am all of the time,
Except when I am with Kristen.
I’ve never wanted to be with anyone more,
She is the only light in my dark, dark world.
The problem is that I don’t know,
How to show her that I care,
Without freaking her out and making
Things harder for her than they already are.
All I want to do is be able to hold her,
Be with her,
And tell her how much I love her.
I have made myself so vulnerable to her,
That she could take my very soul,
In the palm of her hand
And extinguish it totally and completely.
It would be easier for her to do so
Than it would be for her
To do anything else.
She knows that I care,
And that I want to be with her,
But she has problems of her own
And I don’t want to add to them
Anymore than I already have.
I am inexperienced I this area,
I don’t know what to do.
All I know is that I hurt
When she does;
It’s hard for me to breathe
When she is not there by me.
I constantly think about her
And if she is well and safe.
I wonder around purposelessly
In my life regarding
Anything but her.
I want to change everything I am,
To suit her wants and needs.
I want to give her everything that I have
And be everything for her.
I want to hug her,
Hold her,
Kiss her,
Be with her,
Love her.
I am so confused
By everything that’s going on
And it doesn’t seem to be
Getting any better any time soon.
It’s all my fault for
This pain I am in.
I am a fool,
For thinking I could be everything for her,
When she is the one I am now dependant upon.
My mind is going so fast
That I can’t even understand
A hundredth of what
Is going on inside of it.
The little that I do understand
Is so painful that I block it out.
What I do understand is this:
I don’t deserve her,
It would be better for her if I let her go.
All of my pain is struggling to
Escape and I fear it soon will.
My carefully crafted personality is
Crumbling beneath the weight of everything
That is going on in my life.
It seems as though my entire body
Is tearing itself apart
Mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally.
I am trying to take on the pain
Of Julie’s and Kristen’s
Because I care so much,
And that is the only reason I have
Lasted so long.
Taking on their pain
Blocks out the pain I am going
Through and insulates me from the real world.
It seems as though things can’t get better
Because they have become so terrible.
My life seems to be ruled by pain, anger, and sadness.
I still don’t know what to do and no matter how hard I try,
It feels like I can never succeed
But I can only fail miserably.
I cannot give up, though,
Because that would give Julie and Kristen
Permission to give up.
And they cannot give up
Because they have a chance to do
Great things in life.
I don’t understand why I am so
Influential on their lives.
I am such an insignificant being that nothing
Would change in the world
If I had never came to be.
I have affected people’s lives only for the worse
By bringing my problems and putting them out there
For other people to see.
I have made my problems
Other people’s problems and I can no longer
Continue to do that.
My conscious will no longer
Allow me to destroy everyone’s life
The way I have been since I was born.
It must end now…..
Aug 25, 2011
Aug 25, 2011 at 2:08 PM UTC
we were talking about you
the other day
the girl with the salt flat eyes
like an unrisen day
iodized green iris
and american thighs
tacitly unspoken
your solemn demise
closing night
on the wings of a dove
the dark makes it easy
to **** what you love
Jul 23, 2013
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Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 2:44 PM UTC
When I was a kid
It was so easy
To get lost
In the depths
Of my overactive imagination.
I dreamed up worlds
Of saturated colors
In arching storylines
With characters I knew better
Than I knew myself.
They were my escape.
There were "Kristen" and "Melanie",
The sisters who loved unconditionally
In a southern style home
Transplanted to the landscape
Of the Pacific Northwest.
There were "Tadgh" and "Samantha"
Who wrote melodic masterpieces
To match the turbulent serenity
That threatened to pull them apart
With every corner turn in life.
There were so many others
That I poured my time into,
Creating a universe
I so desperately wanted
To permanently live in.
Though I was their creator,
Their molder and former,
I was also a mere visitor,
Just pressing my nose against the glass.
Now sometimes I wonder
Whatever became of those characters.
Did their stories turn into the fairytales
Everyone hiddenly desires for themselves?
Did they wind up finding love
And family and happiness and peace?
Did they struggle and fail and lose at life?
Some say I could go back,
Find the threads of their unfinished tales.
But that isn't possible.
It isn't possible because I've grown up,
And the door in the back of the wardrobe
Has become a flat panel of wood.
And I'm left with my nose
Pressed up against the glass of memory.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC