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All Deviations

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they made us read kafkathey made us read kafka  without preamble or warning  or so much as a breath in the direction of a foreward  no prologue  no anatomy of a cockroach  they made us read kafka  and in my final essay, I swore that he was a crazy nut  who slept outside in a cardboard box  underneath the 110 freeway  in downtown Los Angeles with the rest of his  former existentialists  who turned men into insects  and arrested innocents.  they made us read kafka  and wrestle with his unfinished stories,  essays  novels  social commentary...  graduated, resigned, bitter  w they made us read kafka
in Experimental
A Pretty Girls SuicideA Pretty Girl’s Suicide  
 
All the voices say  She has such a pretty smile  One that lasts for days  Like it was plastered on her face   
All the voices say  She wears such pretty clothes  The colors that just stand out in a crowd  Like she was a butterfly   
All the voices say  She has such pretty eyes  A mixture of green and blue  Like where the ocean meats the sky   
All the voices say  She has such pretty hair  It would shimmer in the breeze  Like dew on grass     All the voices say  She was such a pretty girl  A g A Pretty Girls Suicide
in Experimental
This PainTears roll down my face,  As I cut myself,  To release the pain.  It hurts so much,  But feels so good.  The pain is draining from me,  In drops of blood.  As I watch my pain leave from me,  I think,  "How can this be,  That I have so much pain  When I'm only merely 16?".  Then I remember the past that I've had,  Memories of yelling,  
slamming doors,  
all the awful scars.  I've cried too much,  I've hated so many,  That I don't think people will ever get me.  I come back from my world of thoughts  And realize that I've bled too much,  It This Pain
in Experimental
EchoicEchoic   
Your core is refracted and deflected from  
the straight path which  continues to lead you here.   
Your transcendence,  although well documented,  lacked any sub-stantial  evidence  or clues on how to break  your punctuated fall.   
 
R E S U R G E N C E   
 
Fresh diffusal of cool silence  in this echoic theatre of beauty;  imitation of speech and gesture,  up  close  and personal.   
You are replication,  my draft and fuzzy focus -  interpreted perfectly,  clearly defined fractal lines;  my b Echoic
in Experimental
_winter_snow_Frigid dreams  Snow on her tongue  Ice skates and long walks  
On cold December nights   
Skin molded to resemble snowflakes  Opaque icicles hang from her joints  Frosted lips taste like peppermints   
A snow angel lying outside for years  Her frozen breath goes unnoticed _winter_snow_
in Experimental
Deathly DreamingWhisper softly  Words that hang you  Strangle you with your defiant weeping  Making sence of all their wrongs  Quiet while your mind is seeking   
Screaming loudly  Words to seethe through  Burning with your constant dreaming  Hoping for the fateful day  Not to come for rightful treating   
Accent greatly  Words remembered  Haunting you for longly hating  Thoughts you keep for much to long  Keeping safe is so degrading  
 
Smile surely  Words don\'t show through  Talking won\'t show your mindless weaving  Escaping not all of their ranting Deathly Dreaming
in Experimental
SuicideSuicide... they call it sin  They say it is a death in which no-one wins...   
They encourage you not to do it, they say it is wrong...  But who is there to encourage you when you can't be strong.   
You feel like you have no-one, not even a friend.  No shoulder to cry on, just one last letter to send. Suicide
in Experimental
Last Night - Emotional BlabberIs suicide really the way?  I live my life everyday..  In and out through depression  Its something my parents would question..  --  As the pain flows through my nerves  I watch as the blade carefully curves  Tiny red droplets of blood appear..  This cloth in my hand makes them dissapear..  Getting from the toilet, blade in my mouth..  I was done for the night, I was going to be quiet as a mouse..  --  Pulling it from my mouth; another streak of pain fills my gasp,  My tounge and teeth turn red.  For a moment there, I though I was dead..  Yeah - I wish, Instead a slice Last Night - Emotional Blabber
in Experimental
AngerA crisp sheet of virgin paper                                      White  Grasp it at the edges                           And rip it                             Cleanly through the middle. & Anger
in Experimental
Fuck- A poemFuck- A poem   
Fuck you!  
Fuck bicycle baskets  And fuck the glow-in-the-dark stars  
that glued themselves to my bathtub  Fuck you imaginary friends!  I know you were really there  Fuck the unicorns that died out on me  And I believed, too  Fuck all the pompous snotty bastards that made my life hell  In grades two-through eight  Fuck you Ed,  I know you couldn’t really talk.  And fuck the peanut butter that made your lips move.  Fuck people who abuse animals!  Yes, you men who beat baby seals and women who wear fur,  And the men who make movies about a fuc Fuck- A poem
in Experimental
the speed addictthe speed addict knows           if he stops moving,  he will die. so                         when inertia takes hold  his heart falters and                his head slams against  a future, lit by                        the dashboard. he hears  his v the speed addict
in Experimental
The Writer - mmPages upon pages,  sitting vacant and unused.  Expressionless faces staring into nothingness.  Waiting, wanting, wishing for emotions,  they cannot be forged without tools.   
Pencils and pens,  lie scattered on the desk.  Seemingly harmless, their power is concealed.  Waiting, wanting, wishing to create,  they are useless without a canvas.     Ideas and emotions,  scramble through a head.  An insanely jumbled frenzy, that could ponder all existence.  Waiting, wanting, wishing to be shared,  they are just ideas until expressed.   
Blood and muscles, The Writer - mm
in Experimental
boredbored  
cant sleep  cant talk  cant eat  cant move  cant scream  cant blink  cant breathe  cant cry  cant love  cant stop  thinking of  your eyes  
your kiss  your hands  
your lips  my breats  my hips  my tongue  fingertips  our passion  our love  our stars  up above  our fire  our pain  our loses  
our gains  bored  cant sleep  cant talk  
cant eat... bored
in Experimental
dirty nails and handshakesWithout Annie, the world would lose its glimpse  Of water wars and fantasies of dining with the moon.  A glass of wine, of apple green, and a slice of golden cheese.  A bread crumb of a speck of risk of getting caught red-handed.   
Annie: that quiet scroll of sanctities and preclusive love.  A dreamer, of sorts, with her head in the clouds of dust  Of busy bees and tall trees looming before the stack of ants.  Annie: a tiny drop of iodine on test-strips of sweet virginity.   
An autumn curl of October rust, brushed against a pearl of ivory sunrise.  The twinkling pole of the carribean bl dirty nails and handshakes
in Experimental
BurnDistilled kiss wishes drip from my tongue,  a sad saline-free guarantee;  I've been panting too long.   
Post-modern pop at low volume  strains to exhibit depression.  Lonely, I critique its heat:   
"It's too blank to burn yet  too empty to freeze;  lukewarm--not without you."   
Tenor solo track now, air conditioned,  "A dehydrated display of pacifist sorrow."  I quench with thoughts of your humidity   
and a futile frozen frappe; gospel kicks in  as I softly speak flames, saving graces:  "I'll step in the water with you soon." Burn
in Experimental
The Artistry of Phobia+   
We slept like coronas glinting separately, artfully, in unrest.  An observation of an ode (your mouth moved in braille) tore me ripped me with Keatsian metaphor here or there with alliteration I opened my lips parted my thighs my fingers were all that could move and   
          I am sorry            I did not call.   
The telephone seemed alien it seemed to explode in my hands and shattered more than my heart.  I cracked time I cracked the shells of sunflower seeds because we have dotted our eyes, crossed hot teas, ate around words (just words) because I was deafened.  I lost all sense of correct struc The Artistry of Phobia
in Experimental
the toasters a united voiceyou’re definitly right about one thing (agarash)  all of you furry people so distasteful (atmcdragon)  discharged on grounds of psychological reasons (kimitha)  I found in your kind words the reason to believe (lala)  everything is related connected bound (nenina)  halfway between your heart and mind (blender13)  The behaviors of each one of them are often totally different,  and if you know them you have some walked way(centaura)  but coloring unborn chicken eggs is a bit eccentric as well (badfish)   
I\'m just a natural born show-off, I guess.(jnc)  but I will do whatever the winner wi the toasters a united voice
in Experimental
From My PathI am from whispered secrets  And beaten lies  From an absent love  A love that could not be shown  Where the signature drew the line  I am from Cold nights and Cold thoughts  From a warmth hidden in Desire,  An inadequate fallacy, fueling my fire  I am from the broken pair  That I thought would never die  From my Heroes lost, and Heroes gone  Songs sung in the backyard dawn  This is where I'm From   
I am from Big boys Don't cry  Revealed as a lie  From dirt on white and Ramen scattered,  Broken on the floor  I am from the witch of the North  Who mo From My Path
in Experimental
Just Gossip..Did you see what she wrote?  Yeah, was that a suicide note?             It couldn't have been.  She can't, isn't that a sin?  But remember what she said?  Oh yeh, it must have slipped my head.  She dosen't believe in "god".  But still goes to church? What a fraud.  I think she hides it from her family.  How can they be so blind, can't they see?  She looks so sad and depressed.  And has had an extreme lack of rest.  I heard she slits her wrist.  i heard she has a hit list.  I hope we're not on it.  Don't worry it's Just Gossip..
in Experimental
On the Eve of MA ball is kicked  and the whole world hears "Wide Right";   
seemingly indestructible machina plow  through mustard-ridden sands  while children cry and lie  about incubator babies  and creative minds give missiles  cute antagonistic names;   
walls crumble and  the red fades into  memories of mushroom cloud dreams;   
children revel in their power  to control a running rodent  and neglect to notice their hamster  lying malnourished and dead  on its once-redundant wheel;   
distortion rings  clean in teens' ears  to drown out adult in On the Eve of M
in Experimental
Sometimes I CrySometimes  I feel like an angel  flying high  beautiful and so goddamn free  look at me everybody  somebody loves me.  This angel's wings  are lifted by the breath  of an angel so far away  and yet so close  Sometimes.  Sometimes I feel so enlightened  so spirited and so touched.  This angel.  This me.  Halo, harp, golden wings...  
all because of you.   
Sometimes  I feel so low  I could die and be content  in the air I didn't breathe  my breath has all been spent.  Mistakes....  The ones so obvious  The ones that will Sometimes I Cry
in Experimental
The JokeAction.  Reaction.  My Soul  is  a  Hole  to  Ash  in.  Instant Sedation.  Controlled Genital Inspiration.  STERILE and  FERAL.  Monkey Stuck in the Treadmill Barrel.   
 
hands spotted...and  soul stained......  what's so funny today......   
The Joke..The Joke..  The Joke Is You. The Joke
in Experimental
MoreTo remember a day in a year  is to remember a minute  in an hour.  And to name a star in the sky  is to name a seed  in a flower.  To sing a note in a song  is to sing a word  in a letter.  And to make the sun hotter  is to make the ocean  even wetter.  To heal the cured with a touch  is to heal the dead  with a kiss.  And to love the unloved with a whole heart  is to love the devil  and not miss.  To want more when you have nothing at all  is to want nothing  when you love what you got.  And to want nothing when you have nothing  is More
in Experimental
Malkavian...Poetically Disturbed. The chaos whirls within, and is spewed forth between eternal life and madness. My mind reaches forth, and the tree of knowledge is plucked bare, the fruit overflowing to the waiting hands of many. Their hands are clenched tight in fists of rage and fear, but their heart cries out for my gift. I wrench their fingers open, apart, forcing the fruits of my love and my labor upon their palms. Their instinct draws the forces to their mouth, so that they may sup sweetly upon their fears. Their dinner shall become a feast of frenzy, their symphony will ring in their ears and their laughter will echo in the annals of the insane - Malkavian...
in Experimental
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