An Old Poem
Current mood: sick

Her Lover's Muse

gently breathing
thoughts receding
he comes and goes
but all she knows
she's her lover's muse

hair of bracken and brambles
hurriedly brushed to hide his early morning rambles
her skin radiated softly
from her face to her dark leather sandals

tears had long become the accessory of her eyes
glistening only when she turned her head fully
ashamed of all of his lies

bruises the art he had long since favored
while the knife that sculpted her
glided mechanically from her heart to her throat
she's intuitive
she's been here before
feeling his hands caress her bust
feeling him mold her with his knife in thrust

she's become so pretty she's ugly
even though some say she's lucky
but she can't stay if she doesn't have the money

tomorrow she'll wake up next to him
breathing him
and she'll roll over only to face it all over again
it's what happens when you make love to society

8:31 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Poetry fragment
Current mood: okay
Category: Writing and Poetry

young is the night dancer
who flails imperfect beats
beneath bare breasts

3:33 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Losing it
Current mood: tired
Category: Blogging

10 pounds that is.


BOO-YAH

12:26 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Why is this NOT my day?
Current mood: depressed
Category: Blogging

So, I pull into Gillespie Shell after a LONG day at school to buy some ice tea (because Lipton's Sweetened Ice Tea is awexome). So, anyway, I go up to the counter to check out and this lady stomps in and yells at me, "Did you just pull off of Francis Street?" And I said and shook my head "no". And then she proceeds to say, "Well, I just turned your plates into the cops!" And then she just storms right out, gets into her little black car and takes off. I was kinda astonished, cause for one I didn't even come in town on that side. I came in on route four from Tisha's house. That's crazy, right? Well, I call my dad and tell him and he's like well, you didn't do anything wrong, just go up to the police station and find out what's going on. So I go up there and they have no idea what the heck I'm talking about even after I give them my plates. This really just kinda completes my day, I dunno. That's kinda crap for someone to just haul off and harrass someone that they don't even know for sure if they did something wrong. If I had been in my right mind, I probably woulda taken that lady's plates down but I was pretty much shocked at the utter hatred that just came outta her mouth, she was pretty mean!

yeah, I don't like people today. They definitely make me sad:(

7:17 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

yeah, my English teacher is a prick
Current mood: annoyed

so I may have written a metaphor that wasn't completely clear. It wasn't a horrible metaphor but it was just not solid. Anyway my English teacher pretty much had to point out that it failed in clarity and that he couldn't understand it and THEN he asked the class if anyone else understood it. Of course no one else raised their hands, either they didn't care or didn't understand or whatever, I dunno, but he kinda made it out like I was big flippin' idiot and I'm kinda not feelin that class at the moment. He said that he appreciated my effort and that he would still count it as a metaphor for my assignment. I'll type the metaphor at the bottom. Can someone please tell me what is so wrong with it...

Her sleeves are swollen strawberries splitting beneath her shoulders.

He said he couldn't imagine strawberries as sleeves.

I said that they were puff sleeves, like a Victorian or a Tudor gown, ya know. I dunno, maybe I'm retarded but I didn't think he should read into it so much. GOSH!

1:04 PM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Meh, just posting a poem for fun.
Current mood: tired
Category: Writing and Poetry

Social Remix Revolution
by Tracy Clark

it's a magnetic twist
when social lust is within

I change my clothes
from situation to repetition

but I know my contented disposition
behind this stellar door

about to pop
open

And I can't bear the indignation
as if you've never known my representation

your unpretentious jeans with the hole in the crotch
and those starlit eyes where the blind man got lost

laughing at my glossy lips
my nails with the delicate French tips

so it's a lonely condition
to be stranded in your afflictions

telling time by haircuts and facial lines
smelling tea rose in the inaugural moonlight

of tonight
at the big city wine and dine

but you never leapt from the hearth
and you never gave me the chance to prove my--

self
worth.

10:05 PM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment