Not conceited.. more like…disheartened
by R 2 on Jun.29, 2010, under My Random, My Thoughts
Humans are so odd. I am baffled by how I can be one.
Dismal Chasm
by R 2 on Jun.18, 2010, under My Thoughts, Poems
The smile on my face is guilty
Betraying the smile you planted once before
When I was your rose bloom, your paint, your drug
Your inspiration
I scramble to find traces of you among my belongings
Words that coat my heart, hauntingly
Color combinations that stole the beat
Symphonies of wonderful from the mind I adored,
Adore,
Adorn
Dolor in my chest, begging for another verse
You hold my beauty in your heart
Play me just once more
Release the notes my heart sang to yours
Listen
Fire has been waiting under my sheets
And you never came
For My Lover, Returning To His Wife
by R 2 on Jun.15, 2010, under My Random, My Thoughts
| She is all there. She was melted carefully down for you and cast up from your childhood, cast up from your one hundred favorite aggies. She has always been there, my darling. She is, in fact, exquisite. Fireworks in the dull middle of February and as real as a cast-iron pot. Let’s face it, I have been momentary. vA luxury. A bright red sloop in the harbor. My hair rising like smoke from the car window. Littleneck clams out of season. She is more than that. She is your have to have, has grown you your practical your tropical growth. This is not an experiment. She is all harmony. She sees to oars and oarlocks for the dinghy, has placed wild flowers at the window at breakfast, sat by the potter’s wheel at midday, set forth three children under the moon, three cherubs drawn by Michelangelo, done this with her legs spread out in the terrible months in the chapel. If you glance up, the children are there like delicate balloons resting on the ceiling. She has also carried each one down the hall after supper, their heads privately bent, two legs protesting, person to person, her face flushed with a song and their little sleep. I give you back your heart. I give you permission - for the fuse inside her, throbbing angrily in the dirt, for the bitch in her and the burying of her wound - for the burying of her small red wound alive - for the pale flickering flare under her ribs, for the drunken sailor who waits in her left pulse, for the mother’s knee, for the stocking, for the garter belt, for the call - the curious call when you will burrow in arms and breasts and tug at the orange ribbon in her hair and answer the call, the curious call. She is so naked and singular She is the sum of yourself and your dream. Climb her like a monument, step after step. She is solid. As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off. Anne Sexton |
-_-
by R 2 on Jun.09, 2010, under My Thoughts
My heart and mind are screaming for stimulation.
I want your expression. Please, it’s all I ask of you.
You Who Never Arrived by Rainer Maria Rilke
by R 2 on Jun.08, 2010, under My Photos, My Thoughts
You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don’t even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of the next
moment. All the immense
images in me– the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and unsuspected
turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods-
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.
You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house–, and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me.
Streets that I chanced upon,–
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled,
gave back my too-sudden image. Who knows?
perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, seperate, in the evening…
*************************
~This reminds me of you~
Photo by DPX
1,2,3 Dive
by R 2 on May.28, 2010, under My Thoughts
This isn’t what I wanted to be.
I’m tired of trying to be pretty. I’m tired of trying to impress. There is no point in trying to be someone… it gets you nowhere. Need to learn to want to be me, not be someone I want to be.
Have to work a job where I’m so exhausted when I get home I actually sleep. Be a mother. Do the 9-5. Here we go. Time to do what I have to do. Take out the trash. Out with the old, in with the new… or lack of anything is better than the unhealthy old.
Meh.
Ring ring
by R 2 on May.26, 2010, under My Thoughts
With death waving in my face (R.I.P. Grandma), questions rise out of the woodwork.
Going back to telemarketing tomorrow until I can find a real job. Heh. Fuck.
Shoot!
by R 2 on May.13, 2010, under My Photos
Photographer– Brandon Sanford
Homicide
by R 2 on May.12, 2010, under Poems
When you open up the pages you’ll see me in the faces
Listed in the bitches of the O
Just another lady, or so you could say,
taking up space on another deviant road
Screaming for attention with a silenced mouth
Loud, sirening eyes and used knees
Taken out by a fella with a secret agenda
Just let him do as he pleases
This body is not my own, it’s public property
Been around the block once or twice
[a hundred times]
Warping and changing and getting a little cold
Time to take the trash out, it’s getting kind of old
-
My Photos
