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OntarioWhen I draw your portrait
It's different than it is with others -
As I knew it would be.
I don't get that same blushing sense of shame
In the privacy of my own room
When by the third portrait or so
I find I've inadvertently become acquainted with what I now reflexively draw as familiar:
The symmetrical anomalies one eye slightly higher than the other,
The imperfect details that perfection is comprised of, yet we never consider.
By the second drawing of a subject I begin to realize that the repeating patterns
Were not idiosyncrasies of expression...
Heat rising as I swallow the hard lump in my throat with the question...
Broken GlassesThe tale began with my trudge down the road.
Hidden faces piercing me; were I some sort of a show?
But I was broken, broken within my heart.
And so I realized too late,
but even before I could have realized, my glasses broke.
If I were to wear them,
would appear the people,
who imitated my friends.
But sculptures too erode; they're nothing anymore,
through my broken glasses.
I once sensed the feel,
were I lost in lost spaces;
for them I wasn't even real.
Nothing more I'll be, they still jeer at me,
while I wear broken glasses.
She did love me once,
such long time ago,
when times were not tense.
But breaking a pledge
Room 227you just keep pulling the pins out of all the grenades,
and i just keep falling apart because those pins were holding me together.
they keep hitting the floor like a fallen angel parade,
spent cartridges from the cold trenches of heaven.
cloud nine opens it's throat to sing cadence
and i'm standing under the blades,
so cut me down from my complacence
and let me drown beneath this morbid rain.
you just keep pulling all the stitches out of this scenery,
and i just keep spilling my guts because that thread was holding me together.
we are ransom notes and morse code and machinery,
spent cartridges in room 227.
The Witch's FamiliarSilent as a wraith I glide
Across the starry heavens wide
To the castle where a sorceress dwells
For I am her scribe, the Keeper of Spells.
Fervently does my mistress pour
Over her tomes of forgotten lore
While I keep vigil all through the night
Recording rites by candlelight.
Tonight, the veils between worlds are thin
A Sabbat most sacred to my Lady’s kin.
By the Witches Creed we must abide
We will take a midnight broomstick ride
A hooded maiden and an owl on the wing;
Brightest Samhain Blessings we bring!
Stream Of ConsciousnessThe promise of tomorrow
Brings nothing but neglect
Of my own self-worth.
Craving your touch is a craving
Not satisfied by a peck on the cheek,
Or a light brushing of shoulders.
My dreams remain in purgatory.
My faith in love remains sublime.
My love of life is fading with each day.
I wish for more than what you give me.
I wish for more than what I have.
I wish for more than unfulfilled thoughts
Brought on by imaginary words that
Have never been spoken.
This stream of consciousness is relentlessly
Striving to become something that greatness
Can't put a finger on.
All I know is that I want more than to look into your eyes.
The Flyin' Game.I don't know where I'm goin',
But the world has swept my feet.
My hand flowin' through the air,
Givin' them a nice greet.
Flyin', soarin', all is same,
Though this is not safe, I don't care,
Flyin', soarin', It's all a game,
the game of flyin' in the air.
Whether to leap and soar,
Or to dive and desend,
Whether I defy gravity,
It all depends.
For this is the Flyin' Game,
And I'm in charge,
Whether high or low,
It's truly large.
So the question is, will you join?
DriveLives in service to the explosive machine observe:
Spider webbed cracks and coagulating red stamps,
As pneumatic rubber cylinders slow their steady roll.
Combustion continues, driving the fiberglass cage
Further along the cemented plane
Soul CollectorBloody murderer
Damned soul collector
Tell me, how could you extort the life out of those shiny, brown eyes?!
I'm vividly smiling as he slowly dies
Tell me, didn't you fell a thing while giving the poisonous kiss?
I feel every beating of his heart as we are immersing in the bliss
A soul collector, destroyer of the mind,
I'm about to extinguish his light, to leave him lost and blind
I'll encage his ripped soul,
Just after he'll lose the self-control
Don't drag another soul into your disgrace,
Just one more blanked face
Don't kill again with your breath-taking embrace,
Honesty on a flat-topped shingled roof (vignette)"Baby, if you were the stars, I'd lay and watch you all night." His words were roof-top spoken, and five stories above a Brooklyn street.
She didn't notice, though, because she was tuned into every noise beneath them: Radios, cars, buses, bikes, steam lines, subways, fans, air-conditioners, televisions, power transformers and a high-up plane were lapping up her consciousness and weaving a lovely blanket of humanity where she could stay warm.
Cold was his distance on the aging roof. She realized a long time ago that his love had fallen for an idea, and that she fit that idea in form only. The short, dark-haired girl with glasses motif was one she wore well. He lived on that ideal: every evening of their lives together he would heat up that film-covered, plastic tray with the neatly organized concepts of her in the microwave of his mind and enjoy it bit by compartmentalized bit.
But the variable of her heart was incalculable in his equation. Knowing that what she loved was no
Strange machinePeler ta peau
pour accéder à ta chair
Creuser ta chair
et ainsi trouver ton cur
Peel your skin
to reach your flesh
Dig your flesh
and so find your heart
The Ocean of my HeadMy brain is like a jellyfish in the ocean of my head.
I drank to many tequilas and woke up seeing red,
and all I ask from my life is to crawl back into bed
because my brain is like a jellyfish in the ocean of my head.
I Will Find Another WellI lowered my bucket into a well
Only to find it dry.
I looked to you again, again,
But I got not one reply.
I tried to fill a well,
But all the water left.
Did you use it all already?
Or is this some kindness theft?
I tried to fix a well
You said it couldn't fix.
You said it was my bucket
Not the well that wouldn't rinse.
I looked all over my bucket,
But I couldn't see a reason why,
Despite the rust and dents and scratches,
Why I had no water, except in my eyes.
I think that you are wrong;
And I will take my bucket
And find another well,
And take water from it.
The use of breathingBreathe in, breathe out
while strengthening the heart
Breathe in, breathe out
still, I don't know where to start
A friend in need, a friend alone
I stretch out and hold as my own
and with all the burdens a friend unload
breathe in, breathe out is my only code
A lonely walk while trouble looms
where hope is being slowly consume
While courage is frightened and all else fails
I gasp for air and sigh all of my cares
In the rain, at the dark of night
where all stands against my fight
and my eyes are in the brink of tears
I breathe in and breathe out all of my fears
Even when all is on the line
where life is deprived of sunshine
My Deceitful EyesMany claim that the eyes reflect what is true
That they are a medium for what's inside you
But they are not as steadfast as we want them to be
They bluff, they betray, and they've mastered deceit
For my eyes have lied, they have led me astray
They showed me a man who would never walk away
They only reflected what I had wanted to see
Then life proved that he wasn't who I thought him to be
A Sin or Ta FaMy love for you is sin
im told by kith and kin
but who are they to know
if it is right or wrong?
To be with you i know
would surely mean my death
but i dont think it would be so grim
if i could have your hand.
Id gladly meet you halfway
If you'd raise the flag
and show me that your door is open
then i wouldnt have to guess
As it stands now the mast is down
and no signal is shown
so i only count the days
which you have been gone
My love for you cannot be hid
Its there before everyone to see
and then i turn into despair
for fearing whatnot i see.
If it is that I could have you once
id gladly give my time
Id give you all m
LulabyeGoing to go to bed now
albeit i dont want to
but that doesnt matter much
i say such and such
I want to see october
and see the Autumn come
to take away these sorrows
and maybe get acquire some.
My day is almost over
so tired ive become
tired of being nothing
tired of being undone
Saturn plays a cruel hand
and makes me here to stay
ill blame it on the Tetons
and whatever anyways.
Feeling like a teen again
but this time full of angst
so unlike before past years;
wanting to make haste
Dreaming all the time
of what never was
wishing that id give it a rest
and leave it up to God.
So this is the end of this monologue
and drinking diet coke
eating toasted bread
underneath my roof.
Thinking about you
and other meaningful things too
like what ill say tomorrow
or what ill even do.
Wanting to make comic books
and bang out some tunes
pull the strings of my guitar
and harmonica the blues.
Im saying i want money
to spend and therefore to use
so i could buy myself some manga
and pay my dues.
Nothing was deliveredFantastic visions
and sublime dreams
weave a path
from I to you.
Connected by nothing
but by a whim;
a fanciful notion
that i all to often
try to avoid.
For love is my plague;
there seems to be no cure
for the idea - inside my head:
spinning knots of ruin.
Ive said and said
thousands of things
and as before
there is nothing brought;
My indifference of opinion
thus has made me tack
and made me to wander
onto a strange path
with no map
how can i get out?
Yet I shall be free
from these chains
that love has construed for We.
Thus again a petty rhyme
for any soul to heed
'nothing was delivered'
worrysooner than not
the clock upon the wall
tells me of the time
and its toll.
Trying to avoid all pity
Its only a matter of hours
of minutes and seconds
that i worry.
sweet apple.sweet apple of my eye
you are my advice
on a stormy day
winding up the way
and what not
who said i wont?
and spout it out
to be learned
never to desert
always holding true
to the rope
that is you.
spire my tongue out
like columns of fire
and plotting destruction
without a wish
to make it so
would you know?
despite the rumors
ive been hearing
ill be with you this winter
someone told me
i dont know who but
he rode a scooter
with a motor.
i eat flour
with mustard, its sour.
mayonnaise on our minds
blazes like fire
i like it.
makes sense to me
There is no love for me to write
For I have forgotten about her
In my good time
She is no longer a pressing concern
Not that there is one here
Within this gome
So I threw your picture away
And Poured your perfume down the drain
And will never remember your grace.
It is all fine
That I am by and by
We never did see
Eye to eye...
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More