anna streams her consciousness.
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living is easy Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 1951 | I asked The Doctor 'what's your schooling' Skeptical but fascinated By the cures he held. He didn't take his eyes from his perscription pad In the alley behind the the mom and pop gas station Drove out of living by the guzzlers up the street He said i watched a soldier sew up his knee with his two hands Grinning past the pain Said he usually choked at the sight of blood But could hold his breath in an emergency Because we're all capable of things unimaginable When we least expect it. He said he saw calves being born still As the babies in any hospital Bloated and sad as any human child Who hardly made his mother proud. Said he saved all the pretty ladies From their own red lights With sores on their arms and backs Healed them with a touch of his hand Stolen from their own street corners To a safe hospital bed. He said he hadn't had much in the way of teaching, But he knew people, and he knew them well. Cigarette ash fell to the frozen December pavement Followed by a boot grinding the ground. And I had a vision Of who he might have been As i stared at the prick of light From the end of his blunt. He must have been one of those zen men Who crossed the country time and time again Finding glory in every corner north and south and east and west But there came a time when his quest for nothingness Became nothing to him. Disillusioned in the ecstasy he should have felt When he had no possessions under his belt. So he threw off his big ideas And bought himself a car. Roared out of Memphis into the heart of things. Now he's in the alley Selling 'life insurance' to the kiddies in the city. I was dreaming these things as i stared at his boots Caked with dust of this and every other town Where he did his business And he tore off the paper from his pad With alarming finality 'but I know how to make people feel something' I tucked the paper in my pocket as he turned to leave But before he faded into merely a midnight mirage He looked back at me with strange dark eyes Meeting mine: glazed and grey And in a fatherly manner That seemed not at all misplaced Said 'get on home before you freeze' He strutted off into the night, His boots clicking on cut up pavement. Sound stopped and my visions waned And I wonder if he'd been there at all. But I blinked back my disbelief For his papers proved my insanity. I sent myself on home. |
living is easy Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 1951 | This is an older one. Desert Apartment Lay, Lay, Lay. Crouching in an unbelievably dark Desert apartment. Where I clouded up the window, Drew a body next to mine, And waited ’til the morning rang. Locked up and pleased With the 5 feet in front of me. Knock me off, hold me tight, I won’t mind the pressure. I cut a hole in the wall And rushing waters roared their greeting Leaving my mind floating In patches of clear black ocean. I never woke up, and I never fell. I kept to myself in the second bedroom on the left. I never opened my bloodshot eyes Never saw your blues again. I won't ever sing the blues. I made it all up, I made it all up. Radio kept playing and singing And I listened to the same sad song Crackling on that local turntable. Broadcasting pain for us to hold, Nurse back to health. Adopt decrepit phrases to raise as your own. You’re listening too. For you never missed a chance To peel sorrow from the backs Of poor, old souls. I listened and opened one eye. Maybe I dreamed it all. Ever wonder? I smiled at the ceiling As I lay, lay, lay. Cockeyed, lazy. Awake and dreaming, awake and scheming. I sang off key with the best of beasts, Tapped off time with the best of gypsies. Sang the old songs That the radio never plays, That I remembered from the good old days, That I imagined on an afternoon like this. So I cracked the clouds, and I let the sun graze My desert apartment. Bright and new, washed your blues from my mind. Rain will come when the season Wakes from a year long trance. I will be alright, we will be alright. We'll be bigger than this again, of this I am certain. |
kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | I remember when you first posted Desert Apartment, I loved it then and I love it now. And your first peice was, in my opinion, even better. I havn't written anything worth reading in a while now, but after reading this I have an inexplicable urge to try and write something that people might like as much as I liked this. x |
living is easy Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 1951 | Thank You so much! : D It's been hard for me to write anything of substance lately... |
living is easy Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 1951 | Here's another. Letter I'm a complex being In my being sincere. I'm a complex lady In my thought flow. Simple hands that lay down deals Lay down bets by and by. And I've been placing offers on your life story For longer than I remember. But the bidding's never ending And I'm stuck at the auction. And I've been a little girl for my whole life Jumping head first into unwelcome situations, Unwelcome instances. And I know I'm out of control. And I'm out of breath and excuses. And I've been watching you for too too long, Keeping watch over your safety net for noteworthy movement Like a spider catching fairies. And I must admit, I worry about your heart, your spine, I want to look at you and see strength peace of mind, But all I see is less and less of you. Fading with the unkept sky spreading color on a graying canvas. Sifting sand for centuries in a blackened, wind torn world, You have more than you bargained for And you have less than you really need Spinning dice, once, then twice Because you never stop your gambling. Your chaos set to motion when you trip across the pavement Winter comes and you're stuck in ice Eyes are leaking many colors. And I've wondered if it's just the lighting Of this sun's mammoth rays, Or strobe promises flooding vision with things I shouldn't see. Or if I need a new perscription to see the things Worth seeing in you. I push the thought through the window pane That there may not be anything to see. Beauty watches as you tumble, Touches the fraying edges of your spirit with it's unclenched eyes and fists And I wonder if you'll pull yourself up of your own accord. And as you crow obsenities at the moon, One of the few spirits who'll keep a secret, I know you're a friend worth suffering over Who's not worth the suffering. But I've been a little girl all my life, I've loved so many people, Without ever being in love. But I'm getting the hang of being outrageous and outraged. And I know that you're a beat down fool who won't let the world Get the best of your insecurities. Seems we have the same allergy To the same certainty We've always sneezed at. But I ask you, What's wrong with a little peace of mind, What's wrong with a little bit of peace. |
UglyAsSin Jazz Hands Age: 33 Gender: Female Posts: 283 | wow, can i just say i love the way you write. Your words seem to flow so easily and fluently. If i was to say the parts that i like i would be reciting the whole of each poem back to you and would be here forever. I really love the first poem. Just perfectly written. Follows as easily as a story and pulls one in to read the whole of it. It must have taken some time to write these and thank you ever so much for sharing them. Keep the talent coming x |
kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Letter is a beautiful peice. Keeping watch over your safety net for noteworthy movement Like a spider catching fairies. And I must admit, I worry about your heart, your spine, I want to look at you and see strength peace of mind, You have more than you bargained for And you have less than you really need These bits I thought were especially brilliant, I love the spider catching fairies image. And the ending, was wonderful in a sad sort of way. One of my favourites : ) x |
living is easy Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 1951 | Thank you both so much! Letter felt really good to write, I must admit. |
Person0001 Always Born a Crime Age: 43 Gender: Female Posts: 5099 | Wow those are awesome. |
kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | Anna, reading your work again is like a breath of freaking fresh air. I'm so in love with your writing style, and I've always been in love with it, but when I went on here to read your latest poetry posts, it hit me how good you are at this. know you're a friend worth suffering over Who's not worth the suffering. But I've been a little girl all my life, I've loved so many people, Without ever being in love. And I've wondered if it's just the lighting Of this sun's mammoth rays, Or strobe promises flooding vision with things I shouldn't see. Or if I need a new perscription to see the things Worth seeing in you. I push the thought through the window pane That there may not be anything to see. Gorgeous. And insanely, brilliantly genius. I don't know how you do it love. |
a thousand suns. Always Born a Crime Age: 86 Gender: Female Posts: 5698 | wowza. i wish i could write like this. |
living is easy Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 1951 | Thank you all so much, it really means a lot. <3 |
living is easy Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 1951 | I didn't know where this was going at first. I think it shows. I finished writing it after a particularly intense dream. It's not neccessarily about the dream I had, just about dreams in general. Night Narrative Window memorial, outlining the horizon on single paned glass. Ice crystals show me God in twisting pictures As millions turn away. And I’m torn into five hundred pieces Spread out in several different continents My body is broken before I’m finished Getting older. The sun rises higher each day until it is spun out of proportion And I forget my purpose and where I was born. But there is wisdom in the phrases That she spits without shame. There is a spark within me When I simply hear her name. Whatever the weather Or the sound or the words, She brings me into her story: Full of off color remarks, Grins and circular language, And I can’t tell if I’m torn Or mending. Lights fall from far off planets, sunset on 42nd street, Sunset on Wisteria: sunset everywhere I turn. Rays of silver light linking generations to the sky. Lives fade as the lights go down And I kneel; sigh. I fade as the fog dampens a still earth. We fade in the dark and hide in the day; Resorting to figments for companionship. Talk to the dirt that I grew up in, (as a sickly green plant) Speak to the cold, still ground That gives maternal arms. I don’t want to sink. I don’t want to leave my home. But I’ve been thinking too much of myself To ever stop alone. And I’m less and less a human child Than a shadow of a story. And I’m less and less your friend In my tar stained skin, My ragged eyes forever closed and sunken. I’m becoming less As I see more. I fade so quickly when my reflection fails To deepen with the sun. And I hear her voice, And I feel her skin on my own. I am brought back to my tragic Dark, off white bedroom. My subconscious never fails to impress To frighten, to wander. Now there is nowhere else I’d rather be Than stuck inside reality. I’m feeling whole again, And all I had to do Was open my eyes to meet the sun. |
the.onething. Killjoy Age: - Gender: Female Posts: 6 | i LOVED the first one. i simply loved it. it has this air of like... strangeness? but it really feels like you have something to say that's important, i just don't know what. absolutely entrancing. |
living is easy Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 1951 | Figures falling under unkept city benches Shadows are breaking up in the digital spin The world's changing overnight . Senate mandates produce empty seats In keeping with our downward motion. They say good times are coming And we're only moving forward, So why am I so unimpressed? Wrapping gifts of iron and lead in tin foil and newspaper Wrapping up against the winter's casual beating Like candles burning bright until they topple to the holder Lights flash and scream under car tires Tired help aids itself No one else For the times are changing And we're a little more cooped up than before. Crammed in with corpses with the entire information age In my pocket. I've got the whole world in my hand I can feel it I can control it. So why do am I so unimpressed? And I wonder how we all came so close To absolute distruction. Light escapes from their fingertips, eyes and feet They press the buttons that connect us to God Connecting us to isolation, chaos. They control where I'll end up How I'll spend my last frenzied, sputtering breathes. So why am I so unimpressed? I've never been so fascinated By things they say don't matter. I'm watching the stars drift in lazy Undefined patterns While they're mapping the cosmos. I'm watching grass grow While they're teaching cows to crow. I'm listening to everything I'm seeing Watching for movement and hearing sounds That make me shiver. They're holding life so close That it can't bear to breathe, Freezing the dead And burning daylight in windowless fantasy. I feel I can breathe with the best of them. I can think and feel Pain and pleasure Guilt and love. They can code my life before I'm through living it. They can put my name on a sheet of paper And suddenly I don't exist. They have the whole world In their little black book. But tell me, Why am I so unimpressed? |
living is easy Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 1951 | 9:37 Time treats you funny When you're out of ideas. Time treats you funny When you can't get out of bed On a Sunday morning. A caffeine fix, shave, grab your toes : Socks add value to your appendages. Half off the discount, You're in two pieces. With the economy the way it is, You're lucky you're here. Wipe the sleep off your face. Sullen and brooding Like any 15th century kid. Remove your head, Relieve the pressure by applying fingers to blackened sockets. Drive to the Sabbath. Car crash on I-80: A freebie looksy, "Isn't this better than NASCAR?" Smashing unruly hairs Down over your scalp You nod because you heard a noise. Slink out of the back Of auntie's car: Pristine seats Smell like shoe polish And carnie smoke. Fix your tie, Fix your eyes. Your shoes never fit And your feet moan at the pavement. Time makes you shiver. It's 9:37. The morning looks fresh Through bulletproof glass In the Lord's house. And he's speaking in tongues Wailing at the sky In the time before Christ. You listen to stories And sing with the choir. For the first time You feel like you're part of something. And you're uneasy. And you're bored. You breathe fast And hold in CO2 And breathe again, making sure You remember how respiration feels. Stare at your shoes Chewing the overly bright carpet. Hands feel rusty, Clasping the bench in front of you. You're biting your tongue so hard That you're experiencing What the first communion must have tasted like. No one notices your discomfort. But you notice that your watch stopped And that it's been 9:37 For a year and a half. Heavy breathing, And you wince as the wind hits your lungs. You shut the window And take your pulse for good measure. You're not sure what a regular heart beat sounds like. It feels like you should know where you are. Time sure treats you funny. |
living is easy Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 1951 | dream sequence she branches off from paradise cutting time off our arrival in brief chunks making the night shorter and less deadly than before. She kills the lights on oblivion ditch afraid of waking wood fairies and lazy deer. she grins into traffic, eyes flashing blue and violet as cars head for the underground. the forest creaks and whispers in and around our heads and I can hear the radio humming scratching at the speakers and my eardrums barely audible over the gentle din in my swirling brain colours speak in low tones every shade a different voice laughing in quick eerie clips echoing through and in between the noise of the road, breathing and groaning and yammering her hands are locked in spirals and feet touch the desert floor rough carpet meant for abuse coughing up seasoned cigarette smoke from yesterday or last year that can’t be washed or beaten out. her eyes open and close until time is measured by the movement of darkened, fragile lids cool breeze grazes skin the human race collectively shivers and I smile at my insignificance. Stale midnight fogging glass as my eyes go under (salty water floods my vision) and I watch the phosphorescent glow of the H-bomb city where we grew up and wasted away, tried our best to leave without really trying. I'm wondering if she sees it too already knowing that the figments I am most proud of are the things I hate the most, my sensible mind pulling me up pushing out happy lore to drive me from my crazed fevered state. coarse and seasoned traveler lost in thought and off the map she bites her lip holding in a chuckle, (a turning point in world history) glances in my direction, around but never at me unable to see the world in black and white so she oversimplifies humanity and the sights sounds and pain of her existence. she crosses off days and people with ink from her lips and swears that time kills, excusing her fast life. the space between us thickens and memory grows thin black sets across the scene. |
living is easy Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 1951 | she There’s something scandalous in the silence she brings Heads turn halfway to have a glance Concentrating on the hem of her skirt Or the eyelash that will surely fall And smudge her liquid pupils. Their eyes are wide. Hers are glazed with nail varnish And last night’s party mix. I watch her fluid movements And wonder how she’s standing up. I can’t see her ever learning to walk Stumbling across wilted homespun carpet At her first home in Nebraska. She pretends that she’s far from Midwestern But I’ve heard of that curly haired, tarnished girl strutting through Our excuse for a town. She floats across the tile A fresh coat of wax By the evening crew Reflecting the colors in her sundress Orange and blue pigment flooding my vision Sunlight trickles down her ringlets of silver and gold hair And I get the feeling that she’s nothing that I’ve ever dealt with before. Nervous tingle in my throat and I feel like all the others Who try in vain to hide their interests I don’t know her, but I know where she’s been, I can plan out her life story before she begins to live it. As she drops her dusty shoes to the linoleum floor A soft murmur from the underground (trains or the devil roaring his satisfaction) Breaks the spell, my pride. She has that backwards smile that turns me upside down And she talks like bored royalty Rolling excuses off her tongue: yawns Flicks phrases from behind her teeth Hiding the careful thought behind her backwards Free, off colour remarks. As though she was the first to discover the ability to speak And the ability to put on airs. Ticking off syllables in rapid succession Strings vibrating in her throat Her speeches make me wince. She tries at simplicity But she’s not a simple girl Her lips part in front of human teeth And lock in place again. My watch stopped. The sky spoke of change I closed my ears; Afraid of familiar language And familiar theories And left my heart to chance. There’s nothing to miss But the naivety of my imagination. |
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