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torn skin |
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Allysa 
since 1999-11-09
Posts 1952In an upside-down garden 
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She traces words in her sunburnt and blistered life mimicking the wonderous ways of happiness and finding out it's easier said then done. How does she hold it inside that small pickle jar in her heart, letting it float in the juice and sucking on her fingers, savoring the taste of new life. Tree leaves tear and let her fall, she lands on a cradle of fear removing her rings before she sleeps in fear of some bizarre world seeping into her bed with her and crawling into her brain. Papercut clothing covers a brilliant broken blistering soul, keeping it safe from the evil world that surrounds this lightning techincolored world as she fights to fit her way back into her torn skin. She fights gravity as it inserts a hook in her bellybutton lifting her away from the rows and rows of hell in the bookstore as she explores attempting to find her life in between some random covers. Words explain very little to her she's immune to the feeling of love repelling rain with her eyes it parts, a sea of emotion and allows her small being to pass right through, untouched, unshaken. Portals to another dimension absorb her through her thoughts interrogating her earlobes and slipping stringed peas into her system to make sure her mother still approves in the morning. The Chronicles of Nothing absorb her her interest lies between the pages slipping into them like bed sheets content on taking them for a test drive before committing to anything long term. And the dictionary placed her next to the picture of the word lost but how could you describe that feeling accurately in a book when she lives it she could describe it better than any definition. (there may be more to come.. depending on how I feel tonight). "Tourists are terrorists with cameras. Terrorists are tourists with guns."~Anon. [This message has been edited by Allysa (07-02-2003 10:29 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2003 Allysa - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Local Parasite
since 2001-11-05
Posts 2527Transylconia, Winnipeg |
Allysa... geezus, I think I'm in love...   You're such a creative and stunning writer. I really envy your ability to take the mundane and everyday world and pick and choose from the images it presents, and use them as symbols... the pickle jar, the bookstore, stringed peas, and especially the tree leaves... looks like suburbia, lush and utterly lifeless... This poem is fantastic, definitely one of your best. There's a lot of angst and a lot of trapped-in-the-modern-universe coming through in what you've written. Reminds me of Eliot's poetry in a way. Have you read him? You might like him, he did the same thing you did, and seems he felt the same way you feel a lot of the time... I'm putting this in my private library. Everything about it is worthy of praise and I think you deserve much more attention than zero replies. A talented woman you are, Allysa... Brian Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world. |
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Allysa
since 1999-11-09
Posts 1952In an upside-down garden |
You have made my day, Brian. Actually, you have made my week (but it wasn't a very good week). I am now feeling delighted, a little less tired, and very very pleased (a bit with myslef). Yay. Thank you very much.  Check your email. |
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