Yellow Butterfly

Small child so innocent is she,

Breathing vivacity.

To all in mind and voice akin,

Flitting Saffron wings.

No fear, nor war. Helios good reign.

In oblivion, sing.

Till Nortus dooming plague befalls-

Hail maims Saffron frail wings.

In clamor did lurk Black spiders,

Hands made for youth seizing.

Hoisted to their living Hell,

Trembling Saffron vain wings.

Writhing without relief – their mass.

Lusting the good to scream.

Monody chants, greedy claws rip,

Red, once Saffron – slashed wings.

Away is all! Vulnerable.

Death in the hour beats.

And she is doomed as 'fore rebirth...

Downfall – Saffron, her wings.

Abject

"It makes me sad to see you sad. Always sad."
-Mother

I don't understand.
I feel I can't be any other way.
But I can write. I can paint. I can breathe.
I'll endure, and I'll survive.
I just need to get out of this town.
Somewhere I can use my wings.
Instead of being ashamed of them.

Too much for pretty

You preach to me how to be beautiful.

Sexy and seductive. Rare china devoured by bulls.

You shape my eyebrows to arch like the backs of angry cats.

Peirce holes in my ears so I may adorn showy jewels.

You sell me paint for highlighting,

Because my face for your taste is much too trite.

You give me tools to guise already dead cells.

To either straight or curl - hair steams like hell.

You needle ink into my skin to identity spell.

Because a voice in the crowd is a shame.

You give me sharp razors to carve away black hair

The cream meant to protect streaks down my calves like blood.

I've acquiesced it all.

Violet

Under sea-green eyes are carved black hollows.
In some petrifying morbid way, they are captivating and eerily breathtaking.

Those onyx half moons are possessed by an anemic gorgeous little doll.
She has refused rest for the night's entirety, and now the moon has been eaten by her lover, the sun.

Ten fragile fingers bear her countings of the world's shameful problems.
They wane heavy, until they fall to the floor with ten flicks of a knife.

She used to draw the perfect eyes of those she loved.
Whether blinded, delighted, glass, or wooden.

But no longer can she let irises know of her love.
Her fingers are gone.

But the earth's pain still weights.

Daddy's Promise

My minuscule craft trembles with the water's lap.
You slide it placidly away from safety beach.
My poor boat and I are frightened by the sound of water's slap.
You will never leave me.

As far as my broken eyes can attest there is no element but water.
I am overwhelmed by terror of concepting no safety, my mouth has not reserve and only can scream.
In panic I dash my oars into dark waters, I am after all, Your most ruptured daughter.
But You will never leave me.

My fingers are unceasingly pricked with glass,
My bones raw bleeding, infested with sin fleas,
My voice a nervous dagger or forlorn and dumb.
My Elohim, You will never leave me.

Dear Father you whispered hope in my head,
But content in my misery, I heard no plea.
Laying tortured. Futile in my stead.
Dear God, please promise You will never leave me!

One reticent evening I beckoned the wail of my most lovely brother.
Awakened was my mind from it's stupor vicinity.
No longer for myself but for him I will comfort.
Jesus...You will never leave me?

Only by Thou might I come to myself.
Only by You may I his soul appease.
Rescue us together from our created hells.
I know You will never leave me.

I trust You.
I trust You.
I trust You.
You will never leave me.

Goodbye my friends, I may never return,
But I am assured of one promise He brings,
It will until my journey ends, fiery burn,
My Daddy, my God, will never leave me.

God uses satire. A mess in the skies to portray the mess on this earth.

*10/22/09
I think God decided to be Jackson Polluck today.

attesting angst

my heart hurts today.

this frail body cannot enclose such a massive tsunami.

and my tears only know how to give me away.

my tears and my sad silent smiles.

they give me away.

i'm drowning in rivers from my face

monday october 19, 2009
[3:48 PM]
my converse are falling apart at the seams.
they are replacable.
you are not.

[3:49 PM]
a white moth disappears into vaporous clouds.
i wish i could be her.

[3:50 PM]
a tiny blonde of four years toddles by with her classmates.
she smiles.
"you look like a monster."

[as of late]
i feel like one.

Conduent

I want so desperately to save you. To pick you up from your grave. As you are buried alive. Screaming face down in shards of shattered contaminated glass.
And hold you to my breast. Comfort you. Hold you until your sobbing ceases. Until your lifelong nightmare relents.
I would take you to my sanctuary. I would lay you gently in my bed. I would keep your viciously frozen body warm with mine.
But I can't. I am incapable. Not allowed. By others and myself. Even if I could plow through every opposition, I could not rescue you.
I am no savior. I am not the one you seek. I did not give you breath. I can not hoist you onto my shoulders. You cannot fall in love with me.
I beg of you. I BEG OF YOU. Plead Him for salvation. He is the only one...the ONLY one in whom you have any chance to be rushed from this most certain horrendous death.
I can only take your large hand in my small one. I can only be the sight for your gouged eyes. I can only be a mediator. For the most perfect of mediators.

"If you love him let him go."

stop it

fight until you have no more feeling.
youre insecure.
i understand.
but can you not love around the bush?
you dont even notice when my voice cracks
and my face puckers with pain
and i cry
and i run from the room to my frigid sanctuary
and all i can do is write my aching
until it goes away.

it hurts

it's like:

my ribcage being snapped apart piece by piece
an addict's withdrawal
touching warm skin but feeling dead man's bones
watching helpless as my brother accepts a scourging from demons
fingernail in my iris
raw hunger
my brain matter being unraveled and excreted through my ear
a door. i wish i would have opened. i wish i wouldn't have.
my stomach constructed of paper
my organs make shifted of snake skin
scars on legs
bleeding blisters
falling apart neatly so i will be no trouble when packed away in a pretty little box

that's what it's like when i cried for you last night.

my adopted one

my dearest most tender kitten,
these fragile bones would ache without you.
all day long i would go on knighting pseudo-esque, but you...you unshackle me.
you nudge me towards the edge of the limb, begging me to fly.
begging me to use my wings.
and mind.
and heart.
and sense of smell.
you are not afraid of my tears, and you hold me like the child you never had, the child you wanted, if only to take away her pain.
my sweetest blue lighthouse,
igniting the path which i should inhale.
guided to the way by the glistening wet on your face,
your soothing touch,
and your innocent brown doe eyes.
doll eyes that anguish to feel and moan for assurance.
but only remain cold.
and dead.
inanimate and
frozen by the imminent choice on blood.
where is your purr?
where is your heartbeat?
come, curl in my lap, and sigh.
i stoke your head,
memorize your features,
kiss your brow,
and whisper consolation.
you are beautiful.
so unbelievable beautiful.
how can they not see?
how can they harm my little sparrow,
when she lives and dies for them?
then your eyes leak salty water that floods my chest.
it seeps into my shirt, into my heart, out of my soul-windows.
let me rock you to sleep baby adelaide,
my little girl with pleading brown eyes that never was told just how noble and good she truly is.
my adopted anything.
shhh.
shhh.
you are safe here.

10 minutes

i posses exactly 10 minutes in which to list each aspect of life that i may give thanks to God for this morning.

black skies
open curtains
rain that never ceases
my bed that induces comatose
rich fragrant coffee
anberlin
relient k
jon foreman
yellow wires
calligraphy-like trees
pink headphones
purple arm warmers
my deposing writers notebook
eden
black eye liner
sketchbook
God putting me out of my comfort zone by sending me to Grace
trustworthy teachers
mrs. beal
psalms
mariella my ford focus
untitled my nikon
people that clean up everyone's messes
college fairs
being different
God making me exactly the way he did
swingsets
roller coasters
the smell of gardenias
mom's hugs
doctors who can fix broken knees
salvation
sammy frye
rachel
carrissa
flowers that grow in the winter
big sheets of paper
english homework
english period
yearbook
being homecoming designer
scholarships
being able to work hard and excel
my brain
my heart
chase moureau, and all he put me through
my past as painful as it is
my God who has never given up for me
the bell that just rang

but a child

parks are safe places. once inside, the mind can retrace.
my tiny hands were full of fear, but grasped the massive jungle gym for sweet life.
that ridiculous spring horse was my best friend. until it hurt me. i never thanked it for the toothless grin i bore. never forgave it either.
a screeching swingset that i sang on. that i learned to fly on. i would watch my feet soaring in front of me, touching the trees and then breezing the sand. over and over.
and the wind. it always carried the scent of bluebirds and icecream.
i remember.
and i am not too old to smile like a child.

blue

you grew up just a little too fast.
you were without choice or say. you were forced.
and i hate him for that.
i hate him for leaving you. confused. and aching.
i hate him for his hugs. hugs that were suffocating and bruised you purple.
i hate him for enforcing your silence and cooperation. for so long.
for so long, the world was lacking of your gorgeous heart and intelligent mind. your little girl eyes.
so now you sit at the foot of playground slides, afraid of the terrifying rush they promise. and you stare into the pool infinite blue and wonder why its a grown woman...not a small child that stares back.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qGNmJr7s2Q

feels so much like falling

confusion is wrapped about me like a hooded shawl.
i pause for one moment and feel it's thick weight blanketing my shoulders and its intimate warmth.

unsurity drags me like a leash.
in our mad world my dog barks and leads me foward with it.
when i slow i can feel the suffocation of my choke chain.

insecurity is likened to feet on the edge while eyes are put out.
never knowing.
never ever knowing.
while the only sound to be heard is grimy pebbles trickling down the ravine.

mayhaps it was wise of me to retain hold of my heart.
perhaps it won't hurt so bad when i fall.
if i fall at all.

or i will continue living. wearing my shawl, pulled by my leash, with my feet on the edge of a canyon.
waiting.
for the shove.

i am but a tiny dove

oh, tiny lonesome heartbroken dove,
i will save you.

birds of every nation sing with bravado and hop around with curious eyes,
every so often directing a glance to the sweet silent dove trembling in the corner.
they could never comprehend her agony, her confusion.
she is cold and exposed.
she is flaunted in an enormous glass box.
displayed for all to criticize.
to accuse.
she gracefully turns her face downward as little dove tears trickle on her breast.
i will save you.

i would carry you to a place of sanctuary.
of solitude.
you would have room to grow
to breathe
to exist.
i would never cage you, only show you what love is as you dream in my lap.
i will save you.

we are the same.

evil spun a web beneath my kitchen table

ring around the rosey pockets full of posey ashes ashes we all fall down
let the children sing
let them sing of what they do not know

as four wise grandfather longlegs tremble and creak in a conspirated snare
trapped by their own medium of death
hissed lies
deceits
prejudice
malice
they are withered like cracked bones
and crumpled like rejected love letters

their younger brother howls in glee over his feast of disparity
laughs and weaves his web
laughs and binds them with sin

weaving
laughing
binding
sing children sing

sing

Simplistic Stubbornness

My sword and shield are become too heavy.
I lowered them daily until I finally threw them in a foaming river,
And I picked up a trig to battle a fire-breathing dragon.

I know it's asking alot, but I need my armor back, because I cannot withstand this pain.
Will you do fetch it from the river?

And you smiled.
"Only if you will allow me to wield it for you."

"That is all I ask."

Non-fiction.

She simply stood and breathed in dumbstruck awe.
Before her lay a breathtaking field of pure white cotton.
Cotton that gave birth to black and white doves. Cotton that laughed and sang and was one with the wind. Cotton that gave freely of itself to warm you on chilled October evenings.
It smelled wonderful and fresh like a babe. It smelled sensual and luscious like tingling passion. It smelled...
Like blood.
White beautiful bodies spill over with putrid blood. As
Peaceful doves placidly beat their wings through the motionless air.
This is heaven.
This is hell.
This is a graveyard- an ancient minefield.
The cold bodies once had vivacious souls that danced betwixt the mines. Danced because of their love
Flitting
Inward
Outward
Twirling
Circling...
Circling...

and then

CRASH



and a foot was gone
and an eye was gone

and yet they continue dancing.
continue as body parts are ripped away by shrapnel and lead.

and they spend their existence on the idea of raw love.

She is gapes in reverie.
A small black dove whispers quietly,
"Do you want to dance?"

Glass Bird

Glass Bird

She chained herself within a cage- glass bird.

Adamant to heart and mind save- glass bird.

Love is a hoax. It shatters dear darlings.

Recluse rather than bare refrain- glass bird.

Broken voice. Pseudo smiles. Pretentious bliss.

Apathetic to grieveless grave- glass bird.

Alas, bloody broken reflection glimpsed

Sparrow to miser vulture breaks glass bird.

Disgusted. Disdained. She bound up her mouth-

Life's penance. Pallor pink to gray- glass bird.

Her despair repulsed those apocryphal friends.

Shattered; charity clings one fray- glass bird.

Vagabond glimpsed the child in filthy tomb.

He quietly speaks to allay glass bird.

She shakes at his voice yet pleads to be saved;

He longs her soul to assuage- glass bird.

To rescue her he would himself will pain-

His love risk her flying away- glass bird.

I would breathe his comfort and sing once more.

In rough warm hands Deirdre will stay, glass bird.

It would be a miracle...

Psalm 1:3
He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.

Can you do that with this broken bird?

terrifying void

why have you rendered me desolate?

i am swimming with searing arms and yet my lungs shrivel with the water's choking flow into them.
i am running barefoot on glass and bottle caps and oyster shells. running to my doom.
i took flight from an ignited sycamore, but my bones are splintered like decayed wood.

i scream in agony and terror.

WHY?!
WHY HAVE YOU GONE FROM ME?!
YOU PROMISED! YOU PROMISED NEVER TO LEAVE ME NOR FORSAKE ME!

But the Heavens remain reticent. So I paint myself black. Who am I kidding?

new found

writing is my new found freedom.
photography is my new found passion.
love is my new found scarecrow.

Blue Eyes

"Then I drew your eyes very blue, and I stuck them on my fridge."
-JayMay

Will we survive?

Cleanse us with your tears

Clouds are old men. Hoary pure heads with soiled feet. They have seen so much. They have ambled the heavens, shuffling in our selfishness, our prejudice, our greed, our malice. The aged sages wander above, always reticent. Days, weeks, months pass below the seemingly placid skies. Until the old grandfathers cannot bare our wrongs any longer. They mass together and mourn for humanity. One leaks an anguished howl, another sheds a tear. One by one, pity engulfs them and they cry.
We on earth shake our fist and curse their overwhelming grief. We are drenched and late to work.
And the eternal clouds continue their tears until their existence is spent on sorrow of man.

self explanation (unprovided)

i trod.
and see myself
in the
shattered pavement
dead summer leaf
final raindrop
lonely dandelion
unconsidered moth
crooked brick
dirty cloud
sidewalk shadow

no mystery i cannot explain myself.