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TulipsTulips wither like scorned lovers Whose hands still touch but no longer feel. And tulips make for worried mothers Whose daughters think that tulips are real.Tulips
And tulips bloom in a quiet whisper Like lullaby secrets in a shared bed. And the tulips heard him when he said he missed her And sadly shook their crimson heads.
Your tulips watched me from across the room; Their vase was glass, their stems were cut. Your tulips breathed deep, sharing my air, Those little mouths which refused to shut.
But tulips dry up if they're ignored Like daughters who
by ~causeicantsave
AthenaWe walked together the night we were born, The night I learned what it meant to touch. We parted branches and thickets, invaded copses, Explorers on the beaten path. Your dog ran head, The crisp air rifling his winter fur.Athena
We walked down to the lake, the beach frozen beneath our feet, The sand reduced to rough crystals. You kissed me as we stood in the frozen surf Like there was no one else you'd rather kiss on A night too cold for snow; The ice cold only crack and creak.
We sat on a park bench on the water's edge, Watched the clouds move across the sk
by ~causeicantsave
BlackbirdHey little blackbird, with your tired wings How far have you flown with those foolish things? Those feathers which once knew flight Make a mockery of the wind Toying with the breeze as the trees breathe inBlackbird
Hey little blackbird, with your wayward wings What have you seen atop those misguided things? Your eyes, which would seldom close, Flee from the promise of sacred light In your haste to return to the solace of night
Hey little blackbird, with your bitter wings Can you tell me sweet nonsense about holy things? Your tongue, once so elegant With the ver
by ~causeicantsave
Sweet WilliamSweet William, when you open your eyes to blinding lights And no flowers on your bedside Can you see us through the glass?Sweet William
Sweet William, when your ears adjust to the whirring machinery And no lullaby from the peaks on the LCD Can you hear us inside the glass?
The hospital sparkles like sun on rocks With a hard glint, and always cold And William, you are so fragile all the time If I gathered you up with my two hands Would you fall away? Disintegrate? So I leave you lying there, waiting for your lungs to grow
Dear, Sweet William, why do you cry?
by ~causeicantsave
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: new hampshire
- Interests: i play the tenor saxophone, and it's my life.
- Favourite movie: Donnie Darko, Fight Club, Boondock Saints, Romeo+Juliet, Brick
- Favourite band or musician: Antonio Carlos Jobim, Lester Young, Coleman Hawkins, Stan Getz, Count Basie, Zox, Brand New, etc.
- Favourite genre of music: jazz.
- Favourite artist: Basquiat, Pollock, Georgie O'Keefe
- Favourite poet or writer: Sylvia Plath, Chuck Palahniuk, E.E. Cummings, T.S. Eliot
- Favourite photographer: suzi9mm, malefycentia, tragictruth-of-me, larafarie, Diane Arbus, Alfred Stieglitz, Man Ray
- Operating System: my ghetto Pentax
- MP3 player of choice: ipod.
- Shell of choice: mine.
- Skin of choice: yours.
- Favourite game: solitaire.
- Favourite cartoon character: spongebob.
- Personal Quote: "Even the Mona Lisa's falling apart."
- Tools of the Trade: insomnia, mean boys.
- Website: http://www.myspace.com/funeral_bouquet
- Email: brennabreakdown@yahoo.com
- AIM: brenna brakedown
- MSN: alcohol_altarboys@hotmail.com
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zemotion.net | Twitter | Blog | Facebook
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come and visit my other account:
stock and textures ~mimustock
please buy my prints at [link]
how art thou?
so sue me, i'm dyslexic.
OH, i have to send you some poetry by this guy, Ekiwah.
It's...amazing. Go get his book. Any of them. 'The Coyote's Trace'.
NOW.
i love you brennykins
--
A man is least himself when he talks in his own person.
Give him a mask, and he'll tell you the truth.
Have a good one!
--
"Happy birthday, Frankenstein! You're OSI's baby now... When I'm through with you, you'll be a member of the elite agency that's been thanklessly defending this big-ass country since the second American revolution... The invisible one."
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its not ours to break, the shape of things to come
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