the illustrated life of amelia rose
| Author | Message |
|---|---|
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart  Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | Jack's Ripping London Apart. Drinking this jinxed Jekyll elixir to hinder horrid Hyde, pity we never believe in ancient wicker and witches of white. We mourn for the forgotten signs of the zodiac and scream praise on the day of the sacred solstices. For Atlantis rots under watery depths of death upon the sadistic violins to sinking ships, bands play broken melancholy on top decks. Jacks ripping London apart betweens the chimes of Ben, while Lucifer lives between the pages of every student’s biological study. Pale moonlit fingertips are luring us into stagecoaches with sharp smiles and crow clawed eyes. There’s malicious murder at the foot of St Paul’s. And I never liked cathedrals. |
| Cherokee Banned  Age: 30 Gender: Female Posts: 2300 | p'!'atd:^^ I love this poem. I even voted for it that day in the poetry contest. I just stood speechless. It was amazing. ''Jacks ripping London apart betweens the chimes of Ben, while Lucifer lives between the pages of every student’s biological study.'' ^^ My favourit part |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | Any Bullet In A Sons Chest Is A Medal Vapour is written in imploding ink across populated skies, while machine oil rains down in vibrant hails that no rosary can save. Tipperary seems an isolated idea of a suffering nation, while I’d rather be a man with a whole plumage of white feathers than a name mentioned in a weathered telegraphy with condolences from no one. But age is a horrid thing when it catches you, pinning you to a duty, and its all in the name of England, any bullet in a sons chest is a medal that should make a mother weep with patriotic joy. We’re caged between organic walls, dripping crimson England with shorting life spans we throw British custom made merciless metal ‘over the top’ with the same hand we write home with. And I wonder where all this hate was born, for every heart transmits the message of love and I hate my brothers no more than I do the people on the other side. One day some one cracks and it’s your turn ‘over the top’ a rendezvous with an eternal fate and the skies redder and your pulse slower and its for England, all for England. |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | No Name, No Place, No Time, No Face It’s not in social acceptance that gives us translucent existence, but best shown in carved initials on tree skin we find the futility of life. And its not tight net communities and what’s my pocket is your pocket, its more vicious vocabulary and uncomfortable situations with diverted eyes and uneasy coughs. Dragged up backwards and shoved into uniforms with your name miss-spelled and pinned to your shoulder, no stars of yet, thank god for free contraceptive. Its unsafe riding bikes to the bakers, who knows what demons lurk on the outskirts of disjoined communities willing for someone’s pension to pay for Sundays syringe. I want to be annulled from it all, immune from dirty streets and staring strangers, its enough to lay anyone down to eternal slumber when your standing on the mouth of a high-rise begging to the hollow wind. Because we believe in better peace with no name, no place, no time, no face. |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | Insignificant television screens Paper cup tied with string are life lines when the seasons right for the down pour of our galaxy, captured in coloured crown. Wooden hearts, band-aids on knees we filter the air with premature nostalgia when you’ve pawned all your diamond dreams for material matter. And I wonder what opinions split the pavement and what wise words clouded our judgment? Balling your fist and mutter about the insignificant things, on glass reflects of black and white pixels, when you youths been lied to rest. In the third person we come across as ordinary beings, simple in that complexes way, our life’s could be mimicked in a cosmic Shakespearian play. For we can’t define what we do not know, its experience of another wind trap that lead to that idealist realization, when your staring God in the face and all you can do is look away. |
| Kitty Clover Jazz Hands  Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | First off, your writing style is so detailed and magnificent. Insignificant television screens: Excellent poem. It tells so much within those lines and I greatly admire the way you describe things. I believe the last line is my favorite of all, because I love what you're saying through that, but overall I love the poem. :> |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | The art of killing time. The world is falling in and imagination isn’t enough to stop the immortality of the inevitable. Beauty’s flaking like rust and it’s only to pairs of tender eyes, unbalanced steps of three and the liberal voices of none that notice this fantastic monstrosity. Up town it’s all scarlet winds and clear cut glass, finest pollution possible, slapstick jokers flow alive silken sadistic words, they know the gutter art is where its at. Down town we briefly rereading their instruction manual for paper cuts are the best bleeders and we never wanted to mix blood with others ink. But we know the turmoil of harbouring a hostile heart, so we bite the inside of our raw cheeks till it bleeds profanities of its own, untouched we smile softly, bearers of the brunt. We’re too starving to point it out to the blissfully ignorant? |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | Narcotic second habits You taste like an awful night out, but who cares when you’re love drunk? Up to your eyes in romantic nostalgia and down my porcelain spine. You’re infectious, a fucking fever I just can’t sweat out. Tough tussles, you’re jolting my joints and there’s no glamorous romance embedded in being fucked up a red brick wall. Spitting at the ground you lurk in your own diminishing shadow, fingers itching, fuck faced you’d do anything. Thinning knees and full mouthed. Hit, hit, hit them up. Blossoming bruises, bent up in dirty bathroom stalls, vomit ridden, your soulless. Sore from busking for someone’s pocket lining, my broken melancholy is off putting. One day I might dare to whimper “Enough, nothing glitters, we’re half living." You can’t see me any more and you rebuke “Fuck off then!” and you go back to selling your bones. The love drunk has faded and with it brought callous skin, beaten streets and everything you own on your back. This hang over is the worst and in some upside down utterly splendid sadistic way I’m the one going through withdrawal. There were times when your eyes weren’t the size of the moon, never asking anything of me but to rent my heart to you. Narcotic second habits have eaten you alive and I was never one for cannibalism. It’s a cruel thought at night, lacking in body heat and as miserable as your sins. Dousing you with apologises, moon eyed you make promises you wont keep or even remember, then you add in something for personal kicks. “I love you.” |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | Dead weight. "It’s the name of the game kid, we’re all chewing on piano keys…you’re none the wiser and I'm too old for your kind of heroic nostalgia." You half smile, crooked and ferrule, replying "The queen of hearts, she lost something, boy did she....I'm telling you, I know she did. She's no more my queen than she is ours." We're been laying it on real thick, now its of the hour when we play whats been hidden up our sleeves. |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | Viva Las Vegas! “Vegas, Vegas baby, you dazzle me straight up blind.” Sky high spluttering over some half reality in sparking metallic stilettos. “How good does that neon rain feel on your skin?” There’s lightening in this room, god knows it doesn’t strike the same place twice, but we run on electricity and my batteries need some juice. “Oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man, oh man. It’s damn good!” And we’re there smack bang in the middle of a liquid galaxy, up to the neck flooded in sounds of the cosmoses. “Fuck, look at that tequila sunrise, no sir you can’t beat that.” This city’s nocturnal as we are and its gritty too in a classic way, desert dust, its us solidified. “Vegas, Vegas baby we want to play.” When you walk the walk you have to have the loud ass dangerous talk. Lock load spin, lock load spin, lock load spin. “Its Russian rulet baby, no harm done...no harm, pet.” “Lets bet our dreams on seven, its my lucky number.” Red, black, red, black, red, black, red, black. Bang! “Vegas, Vegas baby I’m sorry I had to split, but I’m covered in your crimson crime scene.” |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | Our lady of patch work Our lady appeared to me in an opium prologue, dropping a stitch in her chest she addressed me: Kid if you ever stitched this up for me, you'll be a Saviour. What else can you do with telephone-wire and a thorn in your side? |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | Gazing at my floored shadow, it strikes me that I'm awfully glad that at least one part of me has got this right. Even if it is just an impression of reality on concrete knitted to the soles of my catastrophically exhilarated feet. If I breath deep enough I'm sure I can magic myself to melt into this landscape. Then it will always be rolling hills, golden sun and long shadows. |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | we live to scar the life of others, to pass on the true meaning of what it is to be scared for life. For what can be deservedly classify as a scar, if it is not one of the heart? Permanent & Unhealing. |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | The soles of our feet have nothing on our souls and yet the soul has nothing on the heart, just keep walking till you forget how. Then teach your heart slowly to forget. Forgetting your mind is insanity, forgetting you loved some one is brilliance. |
| Tilly and the Wall Bleeding on the Floor  Age: 31 Gender: - Posts: 1850 | Why are you so amazing, Amy? |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | ^Najia I often wonder the same thing of you. =] I broke off the calligraphy, drew the daydream, swallowed the woes just so we could duel vocally…so you could call me a coward. And the bloods gone from my head and I guess a connection of dissolving words is better than no connection at all, its more than I deserve but its all you can give. |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | We’re running with kings, dressed as up town ghosts, lacking in youth but dazzling with wit. Remembering who we are is like marked out paper cuts under dull heartbreakingly blue eyes. Sharp and highly defined, it’s cutting your demons deep and blinding you with bloodshot snap-shots and its not you… Shadows can keep secrets better than split lips. And some things should just be left to rot, regardless of who's mentality we are destroying. |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | Friends feel awkward between bedsheets, while acquittance's remain collateral. The headline read 365 ways to spice up your sex life, yet all it appeared to me was: 365 ways to break a heart. |
| Tilly and the Wall Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: - Posts: 1850 | =0 holy hell. I mean, wow. ....that was just...wow... I mean, honestly, I haven't read any good poetry in a while. I just read the above two pieces by you and was blown away. Imagery sharp as always and metaphors exact. Can't say much. Am still in the "=0" state. xD |
| KillJoys Bulletproof Heart Age: - Gender: - Posts: 25453 | I'll roll with the punches, while you pick at a harlequins hip bone. Straddle a stranger, bring another key home. This dance of street we walk in threes with the eyes and hair alike phoneys we all must be you cannot tell us alike. Classics die hard and loves just a word for the closed of mind. Lust between legs and sores in sheet prove to be most unkind. |
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