somewhere I belong

Alienne

I once tried to find my place:
my jigsaw-hole in life's scheme,
but such attempts did me deem,
(to myself) a failed disgrace.
I tried once and once again,
but nothing happened, nothing at all.
Sick of my constant rise and fall,
I turned away from the world of men;
cut my ties; lay there alone.
Slackening last bonds --- those that me,
bound to insufferable Reality.
As I let go, I was free --- gone.
I did to my own new self give birth.
In all its slick, bloody glory,
it took over, almost o'er hastily.
I had walked off the edge of the flat earth,
and nothing in this world of thine,
none material and nothing divine,
could have kept me from passing that line,
and finding a place outside the puzzle -- mine.

no longer too relevant to me

Object, Seeking Subject

I grow sickened of poetry
I grow sick of fancy
I am sick, sick of growing pale
with love over a young male
I want to be the one doted upon
I want him to grow so wan
I grow tired of letter sending
speaking of a heart never mending
I desire a man to look upon me
and for him to be caught completely
for him to glance, then be paralyzed
for him to be by love surprised
I want sonnets written to my beauty
I want him to think devotion his duty
I want him to treasure my every word
and to be concerning me most absurd
I want him to make excuses obscure
I want me to be his melancholy's sole cure
I shall pretend I am ignorant, artlessly
and decline the offer of his soul heartlessly

I am sick of love and romance
I shall no longer depend on chance
I shall make a poetic fool enamored of me
so that I will receive affection and poetry
and then, to my nature ever true
I shall cruelly cleave his heart in two

my guilt

My first, my girl-child sweet
Skipping about on lightened feet
My prancing-horse so proud
Bodysoft, voice elevated loud
How could thou caust mine eyes to so run?
All I have created in thee come undone

Thou werest my heart's greatest pride
Turning all mine self-doubt aside
Shining were thine achievements and thy face
Warm and heartwarming wast thy embrace
How could thou caust such tears to flow?
Thou hast turned 'gainst me so

I'd ask thee to clarify Truth for me
The highest sources needed to verify for thee
Sober but never sombre, laughing readily
Rope of God clung to so steadily
How could thou elicit from me such weeping?
I could not see the shadow upon thee creeping

All that I spent, all that I earned
The face that five times east turned
Journeys of forty five and forty five
Luxuries of which I did me deprive
How could I so many salty tears taste?
All my efforts grown a squandered waste

You have me so sorely abused
Breath intoxicating, neck bruised
Not so long later, childish juice-stained lips
Widened eyes and swaying arched hips
Why have I for thee such tears shed?
My daughter, my daughter, my heart is grown dead.

written last night at around 2 am (witching hour)

This wall is not infinity
I cannot through it
understand the concept of
infinite divinity

He's not trying to me romance
nor is the meeting of which
he spoke to me this night
a ploy to get in my pants

Infinity is not a butterscotch wall
that I thought was sea-green
and therefore matching my ink
How easily into paranoia do I fall

Infinity is not a wall with a window
and I am not a stupid girl
Don't assign such significance
just go with the flow

Yes, correct is the count of five
at least manifested externally
Anything else? Uncountable.
even if the counter were up and live

It may not hurt anymore
but the mark exists
and will talke a bit to fade
I feel a bit like a whore

The flow's dead. Oh well.
Time to sleep then have coffee
Illusions of me exist out there
I am going to dispel

statement of purpose

I have a few other blogs, but none completely devoted to posting my poetry. So, here it is. I will post a poem at least three times a week --- and trust me, I'm not running out any time soon.