The Valentine's Day PieceI hear echoes of happier times, the ringing of our laughter comes up from my mind like a train horn from the distant expanse of a still morning.The Valentine's Day Piece
Long days at the summer house on the beach. I would chase you in the surf, our private surf on the beach we owned, like exuberant children, drunk on our love. Golden afternoon sunlight that colors the bed sheets, ivory silk for the summer heat, and the slick of your skin as we curled around each other moving in tandem to the rhythm of our heartbeats. I vividly remember how the sweat would cause our flesh to stick together as it dried as we lay sprawled in the mess of the bed, but I woul
Favorite ChairNo matter how many times he shifted, he simply couldn’t get comfortable. He’d propped his lower back with a pillow (a decorative pillow, impressively non-ergonomic and quite ill-suited to its current task), he’d slid forward so as to perhaps shift his center of gravity away from his upper back, he’d stretched and twisted and cracked joints at least fifty times by now, leaned to one side and then the other, and still his back stubbornly radiated hot cramping pain. The logical solution would be to find a different chair, perhaps the new recliner which was currently serving as a very expensive throw-blanket holder, yet he couFavorite Chair
Vignette: ClarityThere comes a time At the end of the day when The mind The self Turns off and All you are left with Is whatever there isVignette: Clarity
After you shut up
There is always something Different For each of us
At the end of my day There comes a time When I turn off When my responsibilities are done Or not When I have to be nowhere Except asleep And click It turns off The “me” factor The self babble that I don’t even hear anymore
One imagines that That’s when it gets Quiet &
Vignette: MusicThere is a simple beauty in music. I have always felt it there, on a deeply personal level, resonating within my very being and striking chords of such profundity that I wish I could rip it from my chest and share it with the world. Sometimes, like tonight, I will just plug in my headphones, pop in a couple of relaxing MP3's and listen. It has been so very long since I just sat and listened, but lately I have taken up the practice again. My father and I never did have much success communicating our emotional selves with words, although we are so very similar, but in music we had a common language. He sat me down starting as a very young childVignette: Music
What to see here
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"Art is not what you see but what you make others see." Edgar Degas, French artist (1834-1917)
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HAHAHAHAHHAHAA....ಠ_ಠ
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Have you ever tried looking in a gas tank with a lighter?
<3
I need a smoke.
Meow.
~The Notorious Miss Amanda
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Creativity is the best God.
It is niether biased, nor limited in its divinity. It is also accessible to everyone, should they wish to worship it, and demanding enough to give a person purpose.
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A lot of people dont get the message in my poems, because they're mostly just my thoughts, which is why I use so much imagery so I'm making a picture and not just a confused reader.
new to fargo, just checking out people in the area
you have some interesting stuff
keep in touch
Mwuhahahahaha!
Meow.
~The Notorious Miss Amanda
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Creativity is the best God.
It is niether biased, nor limited in its divinity. It is also accessible to everyone, should they wish to worship it, and demanding enough to give a person purpose.
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