November 2008
30 posts
Hmm... the search for constructive critts…
Commentary: to illustrate a point, or a few. Not to be confused with straight talking shit, but rather, to help. Each individual shed light on what the fuck we’re doing here, feedback fuel tumbling our fiery hearts out.
Tiny stars shooting streams of pyrotechnic lights crystallizing through symbiotic outer-spaces.
(inspiration fresh via: kevin-anthony:)
death of the monarch Fullfilled sedated lying...
the southern star burns itself black--light, never...
twin stars top pines trees some new axis two poles strings flickering lights toss shadows prance blank miles of snow fallen angels down feathers dance in liquid glass one bubble one trunk two tips reaching roots through the molten thudding core of self regenerating ash to dust and back again
2 tags
this agreement
She: infuses erotica full circle. Soft amber lighting intricate interconnection.
He: extracts sex from the act, detaching most intimate attachments.
She: quits thinking when
He: quitspeaking, pointing fingerspranks @ backsides.
She: bypasses ancient hangouts--spying him through glass, un-named by lips. Nostalgia leaning through air in swinging blades--heavy, sheeted sand.
2 tags
tepid suture in my favourite sweater
Forgive me short subtle envyin’ breaths. Stumbling through my influence upon you and her; I didn’t hope to find you there. Forgive me wind threaded eye piercing your most private acts, slipknotting and patchworking this body of seething incisions. Kissing wounds, licking tears with iced silvered tongues and goldin threads.
6 tags
400 threads
Making her dreamsoft. One changing mind and Two aging feet. Sleep well Tend Two things she’s Insistent upon: Flying In decent bed linens and Shoes are made for walking— Make sure they’re feel good shoes. Thank you god for Target and Loehmann’s Clearance aisles sanctifying my ten dollars bills.
1 tag
iron plates and acid baths.
Black liquid hard ground with etched line will be an images skeleton. Acid eats at dipped glimmering metal leaving shadows in place, though scarred by gleaming images bubbling. Cleaning and inking process press eats the damp parchment sandwich of inked iron plate, belching out twelve bookmarks prepped for balloons flight.
2 tags
Miss Kitty’s Dragonfly
Are those Girl Scout Cookies?!? Leopardbottom asks the fairy. nO! Fairy shuffles slyly towards her—box at breast like child’s teddy. wOuld’Ya liKe GiRl sCout CooKies?!? Shim fairy grimaces sly. No… thanx… You sure? DrakoLa says- They looked like double-dildelights! No!!!
Leopardbottom’s snaking away from her first fetish ball.
1 tag
my lightsaber
My lightsaber burns at both ends. Radiant beams alight, slicing windmill through a darkness, weathering forted night. See Oh! my friend… and oh! my foes—this lambent lucid light. And shall thy lasers flicker, inverting heartstick of war, I be Trojan charging Targets aisles, in fetch of Duracells, Doritos… more?
1 tag
Taking Flight: a parody!
1. Don’t talk about flight club. 2. Don’t talk about flight club. 3. When someone says stop, goes limp, even if faking: pilot lays-over. 4. Two to a flight. 5. _____ flight(s) at a time. 6. Shirts and/or shoes: optional. 7. Flights go as long as they have to. 8. Pilot night at flight club: pilots fly.
3 tags
Dear, Me
Never apologize for sensitivity. Love the world for it’s inconsistency. Never dance on graves, it’s disgusting. Don’t be afraid—paint hearts on sleeves; judges and blade tearrors take pleasure in facing theirs in mirrored mournings and placid pools of night.
Have Pity: Embody Sincerity: Know what good is:
Love, Yourself.
3 tags
The snow egret
lays on deck with broke wing as Captain plucks—feathers and strings, topping his hat, filling duvets, cutting her flesh—flavoring stews, eating of her and feeding his crew. Oh my Captain! Let me die. Oh my Captain! Help me fly. But what fuckery is this?
Captains cracking another wing.
7 tags
airloomed
A small autumn-maple leaf flies across lands, pressing against windowpanes and tousling hair. The lover collects it into a jar, placing it upon the mantle. They dip it in 24karats to hang above the cradle. Someday her great-granddaughter will wear it around her neck to pass it on.
5 tags
the letter I
Fought his she-demons, high, deep, dark demons, invisible and hiding beneath flaming sheets as they clawed toward us mutually feeling—the darkness below. I ate them all through his eyes immortally entombing them, a mummy now wanders the wide world in search not of battles, but rather—flaming heads.
2 tags
a comedy: Hummingaway--some song about the sun,
all staring through monocles into it as Jillians weave Olympic crop circles—paws tromping paths through dense reedy plain. Jacks slash across their newel pivots with seesaws. When paths intersect they slap each other “5”.
Jillians teach, fingers painting the city—red swimming in cool electric moonsmilk. Jacks found landscape poetica.
4 tags
...her heart burns on: a lullabye.
Pyrotechnic displays of affection. Daily. The bedroom/sheets scorched by true loves fire—the last time she cried. As their minds 5th year failure to meet words and heals pierce their heart-shaped pillow. Throwing it all away: into the trunk of her car, as the radio fails to play and…
edwina makes a haunted cat-mansion
1. Shady-shifty lump of mansion. 2. Blend-in ticks of metronomes. 3. Stuff with dead-locked hellways of mirror, broken windows and doors. 4. Sprinkle tantalizing nameless treats in all rooms. 5. Rock it like the ocean rolls, by candle-light.
Set on ice… They’ll hover in translucent droves. Here we are—they’ll purr.
becoming the rattailed maggot
The most golden in the garden—beecoming nuissant when her exodus returns, double-dipping and de-evolving in sink water. The situation’s grave: dealing in shock with the immature “tails” used for breathing as these creatures of flight revert in disgusting white depressed stages of crawling horror across the kitchen floor.
why haven’t you given up?
Goblins only want pretty face and emptied head; when flower wilts, with pollen they flee.
I think there’s more to it’s all.
We’ll please, never leave… Besides, half their want—you’d never be.
A ring of copacetic faces, pressed, against glass-pains, loping ‘round my house.
I want it all.
1 tag
The End.
If only nothing had been said. We’d never have been found and this would be a much brighter place. […As she stands: History has this tendency of repeating herself, in hope that someone might hear her echo (or talk back)…] Here we are left—with this head and warm-revolver.
4-30-1945
playmate of the year
Hugh and I—locked inside room 411 of the Penninkton Bed & Breakfast. Wrapped in caves of sheets and dancing camera flashes. Little blue pill’s unnecessary—in trysts of hot and cold showers, bubbly, baths in sea salt and stacked sticky molasses gilt dish and silver. One year blossoms into millenniums.
2 tags
the gentleman
Holds conversation with her friend, despite lighting his clove backwards for her—looking into her words, hearing her eyes, prolonging the conversation so she wont drive home intoxicated as she’d have 2 hours prior, follows her safely 30 miles across town, texts for her head condition… 15 times.
She’d believed they were dead.
eye drink
Catcalls lodged inside sleek parched and tender throat, evolution having leant a slither to Felidaes ever-slumbering gait… Then, that familiar scent—Crudelia’s release of gusting hot air from the opened door of her robot milk factory. She lays crystal desserts glass beneath her spot of light in this shadow…
Malachi lines
Tips: Sharp and bright, a solid rainbow, sticks lacking stone. Rules: Learn the pen. Man your ship. Sail the way towards wild things—swing through tree’s, eye land—make visits to the sea. Guides: Dashed lines direct. His vessels—change. In flux, Constant—the child Like: Dream. Crayola pencil’s will.
itch
One lottery ticket and one silver-dollar moon coined-in Sylvia’s dream, one brief unveiling of her in cinematic scene. Tickle her fancy. Shadows come to retrieve her to preliminary points in her videogame. Ah me—she cries. Playing subtly with subconscious anticipation—her fingers scratch, her prize drowns dream.
i scream
Maugre centuries’ images illuming walls hall, picture this: black Jew princess reigns, lyrics of change in spite of perpetual prison—Hell… come home hungry, trapped—in well… or living in memoriam made marble—erect; movement repainting rich fragrant red rose’s: delicious shades of chocolate. A child’s eyes… stream hope & hunger.
1 tag
bitter exclusions
“…one date, he’s looking through me, losing us to three girl’s making faces at him… later he told me he’d dated two of them. He didn‘t call for a while after that… I don’t want to live there anymore, too cliquey, all inter-date and when he’s done: she’s out.”
2 tags
Foundher.
tiny-poemadoes:
Father Wrecks—herrr Loom—this Spindle Cradle Dish IT }}spoon{{ herrr }} Dr. Grindher
Grid Here Black Silk-spiders spinning whidest-Web Stars of Current—points of light see, innertwine to Shock Thee Lines at Cross see: snowflakedlightning, herstories written,...
2 tags
stapled shut, in room 4
It wasn’t petitioned handouts on cobbled streets; the theme of Thriller charmed hymn; nor rats arranging rings ‘round his morning dish; the fire department electing him scariest around; 20 brown-grab-bags—one for each. It was all. A Happy Halloweenie Hallmark rearing Mr. Pumpkinhead’s boxed set crowning Drake—happiest yet.