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A Life in NovemberNovember is the cruelest month. Those rotting weeks, when things are suddenly still. The corn stalks give one last shrill whistle beforeA Life in November
Submitting to the grave. I lie down to listen and
Quick, Quick, see myself a cold coffin-thing, similar.
One must be so careful these days.
Rigor mortis,
The rigidity of death. The tongue, the teeth, the toes. The dreadful, disappearing hair. It’s the corn though, those things.
I carry the Hell of hearing my heart
Beat between this awful harvest:
The brutal clack clack of the restless bones. The hard
by ~eggshelled
A Sestina for Empty-Headed AnnNo one is as mean as you, your doughnut weight and your self. Your two sad eyes are much too large and too poor To be nice in any way. Your blood-red, wet mouth Exhibits only complaints, non-apologies, reek and rancid beer-can breath. Your nails, of course, are uncouth, cold, black. But you are proud. Hair that can't seem to do and a face that's constantly storming, never pointing down.A Sestina for Empty-Headed Ann
Black bits of bile and clumps of dirt infested moths fell down as you were a child, down Gracefully unto the Lord's land, that pretty, blessed selfsame, You will never be able to cover again what you now c
by ~eggshelled
Villanelle for the ColdLiving becomes such an impossible feat. The days drip and blur and I fear I can no longer see. O God, my bones without meat.Villanelle for the Cold
My too sallow-skin falls onto crooked feet
And I wonder what it is to discontinue to be. Living becomes such an impossible feat.
I copy others’ actions of life and become a bastard cheat. I miss a vital clue and my less-than life recedes from me. O God, my bones without meat.
The muddied shoes, the lipstick, the hideous laugh I daily repeat. I fail at them all and fall and fall and am finally free. Living then surely becomes an
by ~eggshelled
The Rigidity of OakHow could I have possibly cared for you? –The Rigidity of Oak
The hollow emotions, your face daunting, Its features stock-still and perfectly symmetrical.
You hesitate in action and I feel sick from seeing you and it all –
My stomach stretched,
My eyes full with the rot of old blood.
Soon, too soon, I’m gently knocking, Pounding your sweet, grey, substanceless bark in hope of renewal, But your body remains stupidly stoic and shamefully tall.
I suddenly, irrevocably, hate you. I’m a fitftul girl after all of this, Wont to emptying my trashy pockets –
by ~eggshelled
Favourites
Controlby ~quintessa27
Self-PortraitI can still picture Big Legs and her love knotted ghostdim in the gloom,Self-Portrait
sayin bombs're better than you think, and I am the haunt
And sometimes,
I want to kill the tramp smoking on the doorsteps of your tragedies, your morphine smiles and your nightmares
when you look up from the floor
like a big sad dream-
But your holiness reminds me
of the things we coulda built
and everything just crawls
by ~dubbilex
be it true you ain't got nothin to dodeviantID
No deviantID yet.
Devious Info
- Current Residence: New York
- Favourite genre of music: chick rock
- Favourite poet or writer: Faulkner + Plath
- Personal Quote: Rock & Roll Could Never Ever Hip Hop Like This
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I swerve out of control
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"I build each one of my songs out of glass so you can see me inside them, I suppose, or you could leave the image of me in the background I guess, and watch your own reflection superimposed."--Ani DiFranco
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Spread the word, and then start spreading your own words like butter onto a bready page - I want something interesting to judge, and it better have more inventive metaphors than that one I did just there, or I'll be very disappointed!
likes fall best of all.
is an Angelina Jolie Fetishist
is Female
is a deviant since Oct 7, 2004, 5:29 AM
has 666 pageviews
Most people say I'm the child of the devil.
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I hope you choke on a cardboard cut-out of Julia Roberts. x
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...she has no idea, she could make me do anything...
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