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 's Profile |
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| Age: | 25 years old |
| Sex: | Female |
| Location: | Hollywood/los angeles, California |
| Country: |  United States |
| Height: | 0' 0" |
| BodyType: | Slim / Slender |
| Last Login: | Jul 11, 2009 (120 days back) |
| I am Here For Friends and Networking. | |
About Me |
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| MY OEMS-PAY
some of them anyway. I know I know the sadness Inside me grows And dims To a minute candle Light that I write to Suffering Hurt Animosity To not grow Only the knowledge That one day One Day That my children Will grow With an enormous Brightness That I did not Know Until now $28 @ an antique boutique I wear A neck Lace of gold Tapered around My chest C.E.B. Encrested upon it N graved And When opened Two photos B & W (lack and hite) One sleeping (or accidently blinked) The other School- Marm Unwarm Staring Locked to a pose a threat To anyone who D.A.R.E. Open the lock Et sans savoir The secret held Within 4 I stroll With a smile And all the while I ‘no’ no secret That is set upon My face 5 I cannot sleep Maybe from boredom Or from the Co-ca-co La Still pulsating Between My teeth Throat Knees Toes So… What if: The hokey poeky is really what it is all about? 6 I listen Not wanting to Stammers of Idiosyncratic tendencies That matter Not To me katastraphy I’ve been set Up with lies, propaganda Propagandi Up set stomachs Disease Betrayal Denial Rabble in The tower of babble Scrotching my nerve Endings Beginning to make me Topple, tumble, tremble Scared of things to come Or to never To be Thess. 5:21 Appea—to be evil Or virtuous by stand —ards Up-held by others not you or the majority (for that matter) As a matter of fact Or fiction Whether you believe Or not Why Not? Or Choose to be Virtuous— —rance to be evil. Under an arch in Warsaw, Poland The pitter patter of warm solid rain On cobblestone streets Keep the rhythmic beat On a Tuesday afternoon Floral sheets cover my face And small body In a motherly Grasp My moist eyes Closed Focusing on the dream Of sunny days Warm sand between my toes And ocean water Salty to the taste Moving quickly over the horizon I dance B OX step Waltzing With a stranger That has come from the shadows Spouting wit As a poet Of long ago Within my blushing ear Smiling Suddenly An eruption from above Bright and mighty Zeus in a jealous rage Thrusts his bolt Towards me In one ear And Out the other An alarm Forced upon my warm embrace And cut into my soul To reveal a melancholy day Eyes wide open To see the rhythmic beats Over the cobblestone streets Of my life. A late night at denny’s I want the teddy bear Underneath His melancholy eyes Express want For me Longing Waiting For one chance To be held Pressed softly against My warm body His cold fur Raised Scared to be with any Other than ME A great deal of quarters Sacrificed Just to DREAM Next to one another In perfect bliss and harmony Yet the logos comes Hidden behind a vale Concealed between my hands And the metal claw that holds You To Me Howling to obtain another Fifty-cents To play the odds And set THAT TEDDYBEAR Free. In an ocean no where to go arms tired and weary of treading water the pressure cradling me in contempt never really knowing the circumstances or situation in which you are drowning. "I wonder" he asks smiling incredulously upon the couch "what you are thinking." Too young to die I met a tall gentleman while strolling curiously home from Sunday school I already had my lessons that day my head I thought was full. "How young you are to be traveling all alone." He said As his dark figure towered over mine. I strained my tiny neck to catch his mysterious gaze and realized I was staring back at Death. Emily had written about him once A fate i could not believe. Assuming this, I did proceed, "Has death befriended my destiny?" At noon day in Germany At noon day in Germany desire took place for a multi-color wheel of sugary delight. Sprinting around nude circumnavigating the globe of the luscious yard like Magellan. Searching for this pinwheel of joy my tongue dripping from anticipation-- Suddenly, I turn to find my mother snapping a photograph and PEEL-ing the sucker from off my rear-- end. Lovers Lane Two trembling hands--fly over unsuspecting words an engine full of heat and pressure whispering soft tones of love breath taking to the ear biting the lower lip closer then it appears of a rear-view mirror friendship not real yet we press up against the cold leather fogging the windows our two sweating statues wanting to exchange the thing we want the most Is there enough words, glances, or notes observed and preserved for another day Our ample, succulent lips caressing Great Expectations not upheld like a rotten wedding cake not touched. Late for work I am blinded by the sunny appearance of dreams and metaphors of tall green trees perhaps i will be able to grasp the everlasting concept of reality Suddenly awakening to a boisterous alarm clock of continuous NOISE. when all you want to do is sleep. in. -NPR Poem In case you hadn't noticed, it has somehow become uncool to sound like you know what you're talking about? Or believe strongly in what you're saying? Invisible question marks and parenthetical (you know?)'s have been attaching themselves to the ends of our sentences? Even when those sentences aren't, like, questions? You know? Declarative sentences -- so-called because they used to, like, DECLARE things to be true as opposed to other things which were, like, not - have been infected by a totally hip and tragically cool interrogative tone? You know? Like, don't think I'm uncool just because I've noticed this; this is just like the word on the street, you know? It's like what I've heard? I have nothing personally invested in my own opinions, okay? I'm just inviting you to join me in my uncertainty? What has happened to our conviction? Where are the limbs out on which we once walked? Have they been, like, chopped down with the rest of the rain forest? Or do we have, like, nothing to say? Has society become so, like, totally... I mean absolutely... You know? That we've just gotten to the point where it's just, like... whatever! And so actually our disarticulation... ness is just a clever sort of... thing to disguise the fact that we've become the most aggressively inarticulate generation to come along since... you know, a long, long time ago! I entreat you, I implore you, I exhort you, I challenge you: To speak with conviction. To say what you believe in a manner that bespeaks the determination with which you believe it. Because contrary to the wisdom of the bumper sticker, it is not enough these days to simply QUESTION AUTHORITY. You have to speak with it, too. |
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My Background and Lifestyle |
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| MaritalStatus: | In a Relationship |
| SexualOrientation: | Straight |
| Hometown: | Seattle, Wa |
| Children: | Someday |
| Occupation: | actor, worker for corp. america |
My Blog |
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shawn in hot hot la |
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Posted by on Sun, 04 Oct 2009 00:09:00 GMT |
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chapter 34 |
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| This sentence is made of lead (and a sentence of lead gives a reader an entirely different sensation from one made of magnesium). This sentence is made of yak wool. This sentence is made of sunlig... Posted by on Tue, 18 Oct 2005 12:09:00 GMT |
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's profile has been tagged with the following keywords. Click a tag to search for profiles with the same tags. school marm, neck lace, pitter patter, cobblestone streets, warsaw poland, floral sheets, nerve endings, antique boutique, hollywood los angeles, appea, tower of babble, straight female, co ca, rhythmic beat, rabble, candle light, stomachs, seattle wa, animosity, oems |
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