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December 20th, 2009
poetssociety
[devlinofwicklow]
| 04:26 pm
Letter to Myself:
Listen to me, Ungallant of cloistered chastening;
when you sit inside and read of loves, tragedies, jokes --
instead of freezing in pause of appreciation of the human condition
you smirk and say how foolish it is to freeze or pause;
you windless being who averts his eyes from the sun,
no one cares if your eyes are kept sound if you're in darkness,
no one cares that darkness is the kernel for righteousness,
for without sunlight it will be malnourished into vengeance.
All movement may be perpetuating but not all of it is good,
just because off begets on does not mean off is a pitch to sustain.
Your confusion brings dark music that equivocates misery as the unmiserable
and clarity obscure by its own inherent nature, not by movable circumstance.
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poetssociety
[devlinofwicklow]
| 04:25 pm
I look at her with forever,
as forever,
for forever,
as though I have known her forever.
This is because her
voice gives new meanings for words,
her words shed new meaning to light.
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poetssociety
[windscaress]
 | 07:02 pm - Dear You
Dear You,
You who will probably never read this,
You to whom I cannot give a name,
You who probably still doesn’t “want any of your shit”,
Who probably STILL does not care,
Were we ever what we once thought ourselves to be?
No, no you never knew, nor did you want to.
I tried to tell you so many times, but you
Always you and your anger would lash out.
And Oh! Those miserable days, which I mistook for happy ones…
I felt so controlled by you, stubborn you, angry you, depressed you, happy you
You, who told me to “grow some balls”, how could I
When you, you pulled the strings of my puppet body, but
I allowed it to happen, thinking of how my heart quickened every time
You texted nice words, or forgave me for boldly expressing my feelings.
You said you don’t dance,
Ah, love, it takes two to tango and how we mastered the steps!
You thought me too dependent on you…and I was.
I wasted away that summer, but I believed it was for a higher cause.
I stopped eating, lost weight, and was starving for your approval, matched affection
I don’t blame you, don’t hate you, am not angry at you
In fact, however twisted, I love you still
YES, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU
I
LOVE
YOU
.
You were my addiction, and I won’t believe that you
Were abusive, though they tell me so.
I gave you my heart willing, and you shattered it twice
The splintered pieces try to machete their way back inside me,
I don’t want this bloodied mess, it’s yours
TAKE IT! But no, I forgot…
You no longer want anything of mine, or
To see me, hear from me EVER.
I have some duct tape, the wind’s caress, and songs that
Don’t remind me of you.
So, I wander the sidewalks and bind myself together with help from
The friends that I do have…
Enough, Enough! It’s time to crawl out of this abyss and
Let the sun warm me again.
Goodbye, love.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/classic/angry.gif) angry
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poetssociety
[windscaress]
| 06:59 pm - Perhaps Only Enamored
Perhaps only enamored was I,
And not in love,
Struck by your sparkling eyes and heartwarming smile.
Three women have intensely captivated me thus,
All with blue eyes, a blush, and a passionate love for
Music and/or the Arts.
How I love each of you!
But enamored seems too dull a term,
To describe the way I felt about each of you,
Thought about you,
Dreamt of holding you in my arms and kissing you,
Ever so lightly, softly those eyes, that smile.
Your neck...and Oh! to cradle your head!
Yes, these were the things I thought about
When we talked about trivial things.
When we spoke of Music, or the Arts,
How your eyes lit, sparking a flame in mine.
My heart, how it swelled! and my blood,
How it grew warmer at your touch!
For though romantic love was never meant to be,
I shall forever revel in these memories.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/classic/thinking.gif) nostalgic
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wurds
[malathion]
 | 01:38 pm
"...and those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."
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poetssociety
[bttrflyscar]
 | 01:01 pm - for friends
Voyager
Do not fear, me, weary traveler.
Do not assume that I, do not know, hunger,
That I do not know, cold.
Rest your head down, on me, weary traveler.
Understand that I dearly love you, and please,
Do not depart from me.
Women
For A. Wright.
We love the lie.
We love the thrill.
We live for the purest white existence of a nothing,
That is slowly developing into a colorful something.
This darkened “nothing”, with silent fingers weaving, is fabricating delicate textures and patterns and is scarcely tangible to us. The meticulous archetypes meld together to form the most beautifully bright blue hues. It is then that they become the arrangement of petals on an embroidered kiecka#.
And we are to wear it.
It is to mold itself to our generous bodies.
But first,
We grasp hold of it, believing, in the fragile consortium. And somehow the lie, becomes a
Something, some, thing, we can actually touch.
And then that feeling becomes a desire, not for bodily pleasure, but perhaps, that our hearts could know that the dainty creases in our hands were in fact created for some purpose,
And not just for show.
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socialanxiety
[1_scissorhands]
 | 12:54 pm - work
So every moment I'm not at work, I'm completely freaking out about going back. I only work fifteen hours a week/three days. It's just getting worse and worse and making me sick with stress. How would you deal with this situation?
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poetssociety
[humantrash]
 | 12:25 pm - which came first, the chicken or the keg?
i often sit on thoughts
like a hen incubating eggs
but then i drown my children
in never ending kegs
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poetssociety
[gemini6_12]
 | 12:22 pm - My Satin Heart
My Satin Heart
My ear is near your heart And it is singing to me Singing the words that you do not know how to say My head snuggles gently on your soft skin As your fingers stroke my satin hair My eyes close as I dream of your shining smile Your heart is the symphony in my dreams The white walls and door opening for me You’ve opened it I awake to your breathe singing I’m alive ‘So am I, my love, So am I’ I whisper to him My hand finds its place on his cheek My lips reach it too And then I lay my face, in position, next to his By Wilmary
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/classic/smile.gif) Woved!!
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poetssociety
[humantrash]
| 12:22 pm
bobby lived in darkness
all his lightless life
some poetry lead him
to a wall switch
but he was afraid to leave his night
sometimes he caught flashes
from the heavens
and the stars
but when he flipped the switch
he closed his eyes
to hide his scars
for all that's revealed
by sunshine
some is obscured in shade
as these hours pass us
the pain begins to fade
it's from all the brightest
moment that we shield our eyes
but if we flip that switch
in our hearts
all that shadow dies
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poetssociety
[crystalmistgal]
 | 10:13 pm - i am drop dead in love
i am in love
yet deprived of being loved
i search for a man to believe me
treat me with respect
and dont treat me cheap
i dun expect
to make him flip
but all i ask is his sincere love
that to wait till we marry
at which we can genuinely make love
and being happy
without fear of shocking pregnancy
and broken happiness and pressure
and that cause the loss of trustworthy
and freedom for sure
i want the innocent love from that man
and acceptance of who is me from him
i live and love that man
and expect almost the same from him
to him, i love you
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xilte
 | 09:22 pm - a need for novelty
I want something else. Something... new. Newness could excite me; send a little shiver down my brain, bring me to drink up every single bit of information I can absorb. The thrill of novelty is different from the love of the old. Make me forget my boredom, make me become distracted, make me lose my laser focus. It would stop my mind from burning with intensity, a halt in the flame of my thoughts, before they collapse upon each other and destroy themselves under the relentless interrogation of my conscience. The potential of ideas can only be fulfilled by the idea of potential, like a hope shifting uncomfortably in my imagination, ready and anticipating completion.
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poetssociety
[icedcoffee0928]
 | 06:21 am - many moons ago
Saw your band playing
Told you I’d be in the black satin cocktail dress
With the bright red stilettos
That I’d look different than I do now
Not mascara run
Walked in the smokey scene
Everyone turned to look
But none looked like your description
Then I saw you
Over in the corner
Talking to the drummer
He was holding sticks
You turned
Face scruffy
Hair dark, windblown back, messy
Face so clear
Eyes sparkling
Black shirt, with metal art design
Some kind of hot jeans
Huge black boots
And some thick black belt with a huge metal buckle
I saw peek out
I could tell already you were going to smell good
Because you were ready for me
And looked meticulously put together
I walked up to you
My hair long, straightened, dark
Coral red lipstick
Intense big brown eyes
And a grin
That said I’m here..
You looked at my curves up and down
All the way down to my shoes
The look on your face
Like.. you were just ready to have me
That and your astonished smile
Gave you away
Really
Just like that
Just like that, I thought
Hmm
I felt a quick surge of naughty
Maintaining composure, I was quickly grounded
But
With relaxed eyes
I continued to stare with you
Your lips full
Your eyelashes long enough to be
Hot
Your voice.. husky
Calm, hypnotizing
Strong
But gentle
Alluring
Didn’t notice the intensity so much
Earlier
Different circumstances
Different outlook
I suppose
And you said, please sit here
One could tell if they knew people
You were a true gentleman
As in gentle
You were earlier
That’s for sure
And pulled a chair out for me
You asked how I was
And I replied better
We talked of
The place
The band
That I wasn’t familiar with it
They played rock
And rock was not really my thing
That was not a genre I knew well
Or even the whole live band thing
I wasn’t too familiar with you either
But I wanted to be
You looked so enchanted
As was I
We were completely enveloped
In each other
The background would be just a blur
We had our focus
You held my hand
Said you wanted to take me somewhere
Took my hand up the windy flighty stairs
And to the roof top we ended
Opened the door
And exhilarated
I smiled subtly
Composure, composure
I reminded myself
The stars decorated the sky completely
No corner left forgotten
What a night
Moon was in its usual spot
Sporting a full suit
City lights and landscapes before us
Our theatre
There.. lay a fluffy king size comforter
Laid completely out
Over the oddly smoothed gravel
Champagne
P&J Rose, after this night
it would be my favorite
Buried in ice
My face in total amazement
A cognac glass
With a white peony clipped
And floating
I sat there with you drinking
Talking
Taking in the scenery
With light winds
Of how we met
How funny
That you were there
At the moment
I lost it
Anxiety attack
Right there on the corner
When I saw my boyfriend kissing
Another
You a familiar face
dragged me away, kicking, screaming,
Crying
By my hand, telling me
You’re not seeing what you’re seeing
Come follow me
And I’ll tell you
Confused and upset
You sat me down
By a red brick building
And told me of your girlfriend
Who did the same
That broke your heart
As you clung to your chest
So animated and creative
You were
Which I thought clever
To get me away
A free spirit you are
And that I suffer insanity
For being with you there
We shared coffee
And talked more
And you looked at me
Like everything would be all right
Forgetting all that just happened
As if it were nothing
And here we are..
On the same night
How things are different
How magical this seems
Kick off my red stilettos
Outside the blanket
And somehow the night drifts
While we tell each other
Of past stories
Laughing and conversation
Until the sky turned a dark lavender
And as the dawn crept
We fall asleep
I on your arm, nuzzled in your chest
You wrapped completely around me
The bottle empty
Long ago
And when I wake
Surely from dreaming..
You were still there.
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eclectic62442
 | 07:21 pm - QOTW: Gift-giving
Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there. It’s no secret that I’m not particularly into the Christmas spirit. My family have never celebrated Christmas, and I’ve never really understood the concept of gift exchanges – why not just all agree to buy yourself the thing you want most, rather than have gifts that you don’t want given to you by others? I think the same of birthday presents – I’d much rather get money so I can buy my own large present, rather than have lots of little things given to me.
This year however, marks the first Christmas I’ve spent away from family, with two house mates who believe firmly in the concept of gift-giving, a fancy Christmas lunch, etc. Because I knew that they’d buy me presents, I kind of felt obligated to buy them presents as well. So, in the practical and logical way that I do things, I bought:
- For my female housemate: Organisational things. A shoe rack you can hang over a door, hanging organisers for wardrobes, etc. Her room is a pigsty (by anyone’s standards, not just my own anal standards!), and I thought it would come in handy for her to be able to organise at least some of her possessions.
- For my male housemate: Jumpers and scarves – he’s heading to Italy for three weeks in January, and has no winter clothes. He wears Tshirts and shorts year-round in Australia, but that’s really not an option for a European winter, so I bought him some warm clothes to wear over there.
Dylan tells me that I’ve misunderstood the whole concept of Christmas gift giving. He claims that Christmas gifts needn’t have to be about practicality and whether or not the recipient will use it, but that it’s about something thoughtful and personal, something frivolous that will put a smile on the person’s face. To teach me a lesson about what a “true” Christmas is about, he’s already claimed that he’s going to wake me up at 5am to open presents, then take me out for “experiences” all day. I have no idea what these “experiences” are going to be, because he won’t even tell me what I should wear for the day to ensure that I’m appropriately dressed for the activities.
Anyway, point is, I personally think that a practical gift is more likely to give long-term happiness to the recipient. Sure, a gag gift might give you a few laughs on the day, but after that it’s probably just going to go in a drawer and be forgotten about. A practical gift like the two I got however, will give ongoing benefits to the recipients!
Question of the Week: What kind of gift giver are you? Do you aim for practicality, or do you get anything that will put a smile on the recipient’s face?
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poetssociety
[icedcoffee0928]
| 01:51 am - through the eyes
In the dark silent cold night
An air breezes through
It carries dried leaves
You can hear them dragging on the floor
Not many lights are lit
but there is the one window
Still glowing
That room that has light
Also holds many emotions
that travel through vents
Recycling itself
Thoughts of her being
Inner faults
Gifts or curses
'We can only do what we set'
'We can only care for ourself'
She says after a life of giving
However
it's hard..
The window has shades
The thin worn kind
I'm sure the light shines
not so softly
Through the outside
Resembles an organ she owns
She thinks to herself
To fathom what is going on inside
is of a sole person and her shadow
Just cruising in blankness
She sits on that empty page
looking around
at all the spaces to fill
and finds herself the vivid object
amongst a bleak background ..
An eternity it seems
When will it lift
What will it take
For it to all make sense ..
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poetssociety
[breeness_1]
 | 12:17 am
Causilities
There is only outcast now,
It can only be allowed now,
Prepair the burial shroud,
Now,
Save sometimes when i'm called,
When it becomes real, when it finally,
Dawned.
Running up a c-130 ramp,
Fate becomes like a person following you,
Invisible at times,
Even with a lamp,
Some times She leaves signs,
Other times you won't even hear,
She is cold and cunning, slipping in with silent,
Zeal,
Other times She is is vicsious and violent,
And after all the times i've seen it done,
Watching smoking sub machine guns,
I can't help but look,
And wonder breifly of the lives that fate,
Took,
Sometimes she becomes visible,
Hallucination or visual;
Transparently following you; talking to,
You-
After enough body counts,
You begin to become jaded and shrewd,
Causilties, some were true,
Nothing to do,
But count some more-
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/classic/drunk.gif) drunk
Current Music: Flogging Molly's - Fuck you I'm Drunk
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poetssociety
[breeness_1]
| 12:07 am
Awake
As my dream is ending,
and though i'm sound asleep,
A tear i'll cry,
Slowly mending,
It was how i got by,
Eyes half open now,
Fully awake-
Current Mood: drunk
Current Music: Flogging Molly's - Worst day since Yesterday
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harveyjames
 | 03:22 am - Website!
Hey, I completely redid my website up at http://www.maudevintage.com/jamesharvey. Tell me what you think, and if you have any suggestions. The image after the logo is randomly generated! refresh for new ones. There should be some artwork some of you haven't seen on this site, so have fun lookin' for that. The store's not up yet, but it'll mostly just be links to things already available to buy like my prints, t-shirt, stickers, things. I also registered a URL but it will take a while to activate (lame).
Click through to play with the shiny new buttons
Something that worries me is that a lot of the artwork on this site is unattributed- should I annotate the galleries and say where the stuff is all from and who it's for, or should I leave it a mystery?
I bit the bullet and made a facebook fan page about me because I sure am my biggest fan! You can find a link to that from the site.
Lastly, I would like to draw special attention to how nice that donate button looks :-3 :-3 :-3 :-0 X-X
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