**Forgotten laundry**
posted on Monday, March 19, 2007 at 03:31 p.m.
she wants to be beautiful-
that desireable-
uncomplicated-
untouchable-
but sooo touchable
woman that she's always dreamt of becoming.
the one that she developed
while putting on her mother's jewellery-
the gurl she painted in the mirror-
that she still continues to conjure
on her days off- in her security-
she dresses up for her cats-
for her laundry-
for those moments she believes
she's tempting. irresistable. a beauty.
it never lasts long-
doesn't have the stamina
that all the good gurls do-
is too busy
paying the bills. living life from check to check
week to month-
that dirty laundry
being forgotten until kingdom come.

****
posted on Thursday, February 8, 2007 at 04:19 p.m.
Beauty

petals falling
new faces

smiling

children
laughing

the feeling of spring

the pauses of happiness
living in the moment

life
no struggle

no longer a victim
i am living
i am me.

****
posted on Friday, December 22, 2006 at 10:07 a.m.
have you ever met someone that you get lost in conversation with? where two hours simply feels like five minutes? lust and love and everything else stands no footing against it. it's truly just beyond words. a connection between the fish in each others' eyes. i don't really care what happens in the world- time and life is too short to turn your back on something like that.

****
posted on Monday, December 11, 2006 at 08:06 p.m.
so tired i can barely see the words i'm typing---and yes i know it's only 8 o'clock. guess that's what happens after a 12 hour day *roll eyes* i can't wait until i'm done with this. this new year is gonna be a lot better than the last. (((i say this every year with sarcasm knowing it's always the same ol' shyt just in different colors)))
thank you jesse for your comment. it's really awesome to hear some feedback on my writing!!! and hopefully one day soon the canucks will get off their asses and win a game or two!

****
posted on Wednesday, November 8, 2006 at 04:04 p.m.
The day i learnt i had grown up was when i fearlessly and without thinking bent down to free the gobs of hair that were collected on the broom

****
posted on Monday, November 6, 2006 at 05:55 p.m.
the music fills her-
flows through her-
over her body-
flexing and curving with her skin-
she can feel his love filling the room-
softly humming with the music
and she's consumed.
there's no space in her soul-
just the soft relaxation of color
and absence of memory- only him
and her heart sighs-
breath beyond her imagination
there's nothing holding her back in this darkness
that she's in. she feels
his touch
and it falls farther than onto her skin-
farther than imagined-
but there's no stopping him-
nor the reaching of her body to his-
she feels it
and without any control
she lets go-
releases her essence into his
and falls- deeply- completely-
beyond any restriction-
beyond even melody and joy.
beyond.
and her breathing catches up to her-
falling- flowing forth-
cradling her heart and blood-
there's no barrier now-
now where to go or to hide-
and she's fallen- not smashed-
but gazing up at the man
that she's somehow never known
but always loved-
always hoped for-
how did her stubbornness lead her here?
how did she finally let go?
memory is lost
and everything in her sight feels as if new-
the shower walls crying for her-
weeping for the newness of it all-
the genuinity of her eyes
and her sight
and this all.
-a.

****
posted on Thursday, September 21, 2006 at 07:56 p.m.

****
posted on Saturday, August 12, 2006 at 09:02 a.m.
you'll speak to me- find reasons within your day
for thoughts- feelings to struggle to the surface-
and you'll push them away- forget the small moments
of freedom and trust found in our spirits-
the loves that we should have made- but didn't-
choice was yours and you still haven't walked away.
moments will last forever if you cherish them-
but i just threw my last pair of jeans out the window
and won't ever be caught calling your name.

****
posted on Monday, May 22, 2006 at 10:47 a.m.
The ballerina dances-
Frail
Skin and bones- beauty
In determination and ease
The particular movements
Charmed on by pain-
Eyes mirrors-
Frozen in glass-
Never speaking-
Her body-
Just more of the same-
Muscles tightening around her soul-
And she performs-
Dances. Ballerina. Graceful.
Melody- let her fill you-
Eat away at your spirit-
Does she cloud or shadow-
As she bends- grows- flows forth-

Consuming
Yet never taking-
Ballerina. Dance.
Butterfly of the mind
Opening
Flying- skimming over earths-
Within eyelashes-
Everything graceful- meaningful-
Tragic-
The dance she tells
Is it happy-
As cloth and human body entwine-
Do you see the way her
Blood flows-
Passionately-
Fully-
Never asking for reason or excuse-
Just is- pushing-
Edging-
Bringing her- binding her with skill-
Her body allowing her
To continue- relax- begin-
Be human and void-
Extroverted
Trapped inside-
As consistent as water
Changing
Never changing
Keeping shape
And dancing.
Slow movements
Drawn out-
Illustrating- begging in a dance
Constructed of fear
And fearful men-
Blind to their tears.

Her eyes are hollow-
This ballerina.
This dance.
This mind.

****
posted on Monday, April 10, 2006 at 07:41 p.m.

****
posted on Wednesday, April 5, 2006 at 06:04 p.m.
she can paint her nails- be polished- real-
brush her teeth and masquerade around all white
and clean- fresh- full of feeling- full of life-
she can dress her eyes up real nice-
bat them at strangers
and find a perpetual smile on her lips-
she can be all that she can be- and more-
she can be your dream and the fallen star
that you so desperately want to hold- that they all want to own-
she can
but she won't- it won't comfort her- she won't find happiness
in the arms of strangers- in the heart of another man- can't you see this?
that life isn't about the taming of torturous men- blood isn't what she needs-
wants- desires- from them.
she doesn't want to spend her lifetime on her knees-
she doesn't want to beg or plead-
that's why she let you go- that's why she's sitting there all alone-
her corner- her solitude-
because that is her home- this loneliness is her home-
and she's not crying for you- she knows what she feels
and won't turn away from it- no matter the cost of the burn
it'll make- she knows it will be fierce-
but it will be more real than her covering her scars
and imperfections
for the lust of others- she wants you.

****
posted on Saturday, March 4, 2006 at 09:08 a.m.
You can always tell when i've been doing a lot of writing. coffee cups litter my entire house. clothes are piled all over the place. laundry celebrating it's 2 week birthday. dishes filling the sink. i'm scatter-brained and loving it.
on my week off i wrote an average of 10 hours a day. now i'm attempting to tack the editing of all those poems. so while i'm frying my eyes on here...check out my Poetry I link for new material!
keep smiling everyone.
oh and happy birthday to my Uncle Dan and to Lindsay!!!