I remember
when we were allies
friends
siblings
There were jokes
for just us
Games
only we knew
And secrets
we told no one else
Now we are older
But not so wise
There is fear
and envy
and reproach
In our day to day
togetherness
The lies that spill forth
Stain our white flags
into red, seething
rags of pain
Lies that we
in our hearts
believe
When they come from
ourselves
And your malice,
desire to bring me down
crying at your feet,
makes me wonder-
where was that happy little boy?
where has my real brother gone?
Sometimes, when the words
threatened to spew out
in thick froth of hate and spite
I bit my tongue
Keep it in a bank, Share it with your brother,
Paint the sky, Run the river.
Eat the sausage, Pick a flower,
Fuel a fight, Transfuse a little.
Feel the guilt, Steal the stone,
Check the pressure, Drink it up.
Take a bath, Shed your foe's,
Join a group, Stain your soul.
Build a tree, Thirst for some,
Ride that horse, buy a dog.
Unleash your wrath, leave a trail,
Draw it off, Seal the deal.
Script your name, cry your eyes,
Show cruelty, Feel mortality's bite.
Curdle it, Test it, Let it, Type it,
Spill it, Suck it, Poison it, Ice it.
Blue, Hot, Red, Cold
Lineage
Life
The fluid that circulates through the
heart, arteries, cap
I'm going to skip through town,
In spiky black stillettoes,
Flippy blonde hair in a messy twist,
White legs flashing in the sun,
It's my dream, and I'm going to eat as much cake as I want.
I'm going to dance through the park,
In a pinstripe suit,
Curly hair writhing out of control,
Red lips whistling dixie,
It's my dream, and I'm going to eat as much cake as I want.
I'm going to strut through the club,
In a floral cargo miniskirt,
Hair streaked hot pink superstraight,
Eyes winking lusciously,
It's my dream, and I'm going to eat as much cake as I want.
I Was Stupid Then. . . . by rivenmirror, literature
Literature
I Was Stupid Then. . . .
I was stupid then,
When my hair was longer than my worries.
When my age was a popular shoe size.
When my eyes were fringed in innocence.
When my lips mouthed simple sentiments.
When I could count my dreams on the stars.
When I could hear life calling to me.
When I was someone else.
Tick-Tock
Eyes on the time
Tick-Tock
Now he's arrived
Tick-Tock
Her heart skips a beat
Tick-Tock
Facing defeat
Tick-Tock
Running through darkness
Tick-Tock
A scream pierces the silence
Tick-Tock
Tick-Tock
Tick-Tock
Tick-Tock
Eyes on the time
Tick-Tock
Now he's arrived
Tick-Tock
Her heart skips a beat
Tick-Tock
Facing defeat
Tick-Tock
Running through darkness
Tick-Tock
A scream pierces the silence
Tick-Tock
Tick-Tock
Tick-Tock
I Was Stupid Then. . . . by rivenmirror, literature
Literature
I Was Stupid Then. . . .
I was stupid then,
When my hair was longer than my worries.
When my age was a popular shoe size.
When my eyes were fringed in innocence.
When my lips mouthed simple sentiments.
When I could count my dreams on the stars.
When I could hear life calling to me.
When I was someone else.
I'm going to skip through town,
In spiky black stillettoes,
Flippy blonde hair in a messy twist,
White legs flashing in the sun,
It's my dream, and I'm going to eat as much cake as I want.
I'm going to dance through the park,
In a pinstripe suit,
Curly hair writhing out of control,
Red lips whistling dixie,
It's my dream, and I'm going to eat as much cake as I want.
I'm going to strut through the club,
In a floral cargo miniskirt,
Hair streaked hot pink superstraight,
Eyes winking lusciously,
It's my dream, and I'm going to eat as much cake as I want.
Keep it in a bank, Share it with your brother,
Paint the sky, Run the river.
Eat the sausage, Pick a flower,
Fuel a fight, Transfuse a little.
Feel the guilt, Steal the stone,
Check the pressure, Drink it up.
Take a bath, Shed your foe's,
Join a group, Stain your soul.
Build a tree, Thirst for some,
Ride that horse, buy a dog.
Unleash your wrath, leave a trail,
Draw it off, Seal the deal.
Script your name, cry your eyes,
Show cruelty, Feel mortality's bite.
Curdle it, Test it, Let it, Type it,
Spill it, Suck it, Poison it, Ice it.
Blue, Hot, Red, Cold
Lineage
Life
The fluid that circulates through the
heart, arteries, cap
I remember
when we were allies
friends
siblings
There were jokes
for just us
Games
only we knew
And secrets
we told no one else
Now we are older
But not so wise
There is fear
and envy
and reproach
In our day to day
togetherness
The lies that spill forth
Stain our white flags
into red, seething
rags of pain
Lies that we
in our hearts
believe
When they come from
ourselves
And your malice,
desire to bring me down
crying at your feet,
makes me wonder-
where was that happy little boy?
where has my real brother gone?
Sometimes, when the words
threatened to spew out
in thick froth of hate and spite
I bit my tongue
I remember
when we were allies
friends
siblings
There were jokes
for just us
Games
only we knew
And secrets
we told no one else
Now we are older
But not so wise
There is fear
and envy
and reproach
In our day to day
togetherness
The lies that spill forth
Stain our white flags
into red, seething
rags of pain
Lies that we
in our hearts
believe
When they come from
ourselves
And your malice,
desire to bring me down
crying at your feet,
makes me wonder-
where was that happy little boy?
where has my real brother gone?
Sometimes, when the words
threatened to spew out
in thick froth of hate and spite
I bit my tongue
Current Residence: A house. A brown house, if you must know. Favourite genre of music: I love everything but heavy metal, so long as it's in small doses. Personal Quote: "I'm not gullible. I'm charmingly naive."
Favourite Writers
As of this moment, a tie between Mercedes Lackey and George Orwell.
Tools of the Trade
Many, many office supplies. Am a complete pen addict.
Other Interests
Reading, writing, playing the violin, collaging, making psychotic lists, obsessing about the future
I've been really bad about posting lately, what with summer camps and all, so I've started putting up some of the things I wrote a while ago. Now that I reread them, I'm kind of embarrassed.
I have caved to peer pressure and gotten an account. Most everything will probably be in my scrapbook, until I find some stuff I've written that I actually like. . .