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(no subject)

Dec. 2nd, 2011 | 06:33 pm

I would build a palace for you,
if you would let me;
I would seize Ymir's bones for our walls,
and catch a rainbow for our bedsheets;
I would skin Nemea's Lion to fight the cold,
for you.

I would bash a thousand heads for you,
if you would let me;
Like lightning
into dry grass I would be a flame
alight to your enemies,
I would be a bull in the run
for you.

I would sing until my breath stopped,
if you would let me;
I would write until I had no words.
I would bring tears to the bitter lords of Xibalba,
for you;

If only you would come with me when I wake.

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(no subject)

Nov. 12th, 2010 | 06:38 pm

Sometimes, in my day's travails,
I wonder:
What if this was not my fate?
If I had walked that dusty road,
Taking toll 'neath tongue,
and ferried 'cross that river black
Where shines no earthly sun—
What then?
I could not miss the things I'd lose,
Nor even ever speak their name;
but God, what tortures I'd be spared,
What troubles! What pain!
"You're selfish, lad," they tell me now,
But could that not be said both ways?
You ask me, "Bear this heavy load!
That we might spare ourselves much grief,"
But all I want is, knife in hand,
To find final relief.

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(no subject)

Sep. 21st, 2010 | 12:22 am

Already this place seems foreign to me.
Its nooks and corners,
once my own,
now belong to some stranger
though seen frequently,
I never had a chance to meet.
He is dead now;
as he always wished.

He leaves lives where he once lived
and God, how I want them—
Need them!
But I am determined to be the phoenix;
and there must be ashes.

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(no subject)

Sep. 1st, 2010 | 02:20 pm

There lies a little rabbit,
Dried and dusty,
By the old road-of-rails
whose form it so reflects.
Once sleek,
Now it lays crumbling in the gravel.

I held you once, little rabbit:
I tore the tufts you gave me,
Ran fingers along your spine exposed,
Left you to sleep.
I could see where your heart was once;
who took it, I wonder?

Here, little rabbit,
Find a place to bury yourself—
Keep yourself secret for me,
and I'll come back to lie beside you.
You and I could live forever,
I promise.
                            I will die.)

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(no subject)

Jun. 19th, 2010 | 11:33 pm

O patience, O thoughtfulness,
How I wish you would leave me and
Take flight;
and that in such flight I might find egress of my own.
There are no things I am too cowardly to find out
which I do not burn desperately to discover.
And oh,
what I would give
To know what it is to be dead—
if only it could be a nonstandard price.

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The world is ending tonight!

Jun. 9th, 2010 | 01:33 am

That's what the posters say:
So settle all your fights
and make up (& out) with everyone you've ever loved.
Tell that thing you admire
(Girl, boy, vase of flowers)
How pretty it is;
Then go home and weep
for all the things you've ever done wrong—
Because we all know there are

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time as a dandelion blown upon by a young woman on her way to work

Apr. 4th, 2010 | 10:43 pm

Pt I:

The jester played with his spiderweb ring of children's dreams as he walked. He could never focus on jokes while he was with his ring, for although it could spin for him many fanciful things, few were amusing to adults. Many involved humongous, ravenously hungry cake-monsters, and these were not amusing to anyone (though why that should be the jester couldn't tell).

"Cake-monsters seem naturally humorous," he said to himself.

Pt II:

Turkey Jesus never really could understand the concept of salvation. What did he need to save turkeys from? He didn't get it.

Then one day, a hunter shot Turkey Jesus and brought him back to serve for dinner.

"Whoops!" said regular Jesus. "There goes that idea!"


Your search - Pt III - did not match any documents.


-Get a life.

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And now, genie, for my final wish:

Dec. 2nd, 2009 | 04:17 am

A world once loved, now forgotten—
Summer nights spent languorous in sweet breezes,
Dodging squashed olives on the ground and
Just looking for something to get drunk and do;
Putting feet in water, shouting,
Leaving ashes everywhere.

I blew on a dandelion and—poof!
Everything's gone.
Many more will grow again,
But none of them the same.

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(no subject)

Nov. 6th, 2009 | 02:47 am

This intoxication,
How do I free myself from it?
It is painful,
but oh it is so sweet.
God, I try so hard to resist!
To cast it away—
But who could ever do such a thing?
It teases you.
When you hurt beyond acceptance,
it gives pleasure like no other.

How has this persisted so long?
Wretched thing!
Horrid thing!
Please, please, bring me joy.
I am too much an addict to quit;
I am too impatient to wait.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
But I can never have peace while I have you.

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(no subject)

Jun. 3rd, 2009 | 02:44 am

On nights when it is warm I walk,
smelling the honeyed summer air,
lighting my sweet slow death and
taking it into my lungs.
There is nothing quite like the scent of that air during those
months, when the sky turns purple
darker than royalty;
nothing I have ever found.

It is wondrous being alone on those nights,
although I am not—
I have companions in the murmuring cars which pass me,
animals and worlds unto themselves.
But their lives are short, and our friendships fleeting,
so I do not stop to mourn or talk.
Sometimes I cannot help myself and so I just sit,
and stare at the moon,
and whisper beautiful things to her.
(They are private—I am not allowed to tell.)

Find me one of those nights;
I will show you how true
my love
can be.

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