Here Comes The Storm

When we join, we are comparable to the sun; majestic and beautiful. Bright and cheery. The others bask in our warmth.

But some, grow angry and irate about our affection towards

one another.

So of course, Here Comes The Storm. To hide and destroy our prepetual shine.

You fade away behind the greyish facade of this tiresome mob. You fall into

the cloudy exterior, ignoring my pleas.

I am your light your love and yet, you no longer join me

to make your sun.

The clouds jeer, with thunderous voices.

The heavens cry for our lost cause.

Is this what was to become of us, my majestic sun?

Are we never going to be together, joined by our rays of light?

Must we always be torn apart by the, always-jealous-neverending storm?

She-Devil

A Mocha coloured beauty, with lips of fire

a stare of bewitchment and a pair of quivering thighs.

A voice, lusty and full, whispering my name passionately.

Hair the color of Onyx, flowing like black silk.

A pair of almond shaped eyes, dark and seductive,

beckoning for me to look deeper, deeper into her soul.

A smile, devilish and perverse yet- alluring. Flashing skin,

controversial to the teaching of mothers to their innocent daughters. She listened to me play my guitar, each stroke of the strings making her dance.

Her body swaying and spinning, as if seducing the musical notes themselves. She made my

guitar's song hers, because of her enchantment over my weak heart.

She whispered honey covered words, softly into my ear. But each word filled with sexual tension;

drunkards would sober instantly.

So that night, my fair dark mistress became my guitar. I plucked her, she sang. I felt her, she

moaned. Another romantic song for the people to listen to. I awoke the next morning, alone and

forgotten. She left a note saying:

"sweet sweet man, your love making was as good as your money. play on."

A Group of Men

A group of men,

a holy sense, chanting divinity and praise

to the One with many names.

Devoted like soldiers of peace,

they repeat and sing

a beautiful holy prayer.

Deep in a temple

a group of Tibetan monks

in their solid maroon robes

raise their voices

higher

in unison,

to the One with many names.

His Stare

His stare, his stare

It made my skin crawl.

His glare, his glare

it made me squirm.

He watched, he watched

peering between his strands of hair.

He's mad, he's mad

insane; with a perverse look travelling across his face.

Undress, undress

he commanded from the depths of his room.

I cried, I cried

as his eyes grew as round as the haunted full moon.

His eyes, his eyes

tore away my innocence and sanity.

His hands, his hands
ravaged and touched.

He finished, he finished

he could have left me for dead.

His stare, his stare

I will always remember.

**I dedicate this poem to my friend Ian, who inspired me with his retarded drawing of the most messed up eye. We had to do some warm up poem thing, and we decided to inspire each other. He drew something, i wrote about it ( he was impressed- I think :D) and i gave him a few words. Of course my favourite word; bittersweet. And goes with bittersweet? Love! So we did it, and we made some beautiful poetry. I must say I was proud of the outcome of my poem. As well as his, he writes some amazing love poems- Bastard! lol...So from one incredible friend to the next, This is to u Maclean!!

Ride My Wave

Today in class, we read pieces by spanish poet Pablo Neruda and canadian lusty writer, Irving Layton. So we were put to
the test to write something Lusty, perverse, passionate or just plain old dirty! We were given a picture of someone surfing on a giant wave, and somehow use that as an "inspiration" ...so I gave it a shot! According to my teacher, she said it was "HOT." lol

Ride me,

Penetrate,

feel the adrenaline.

Brush me with your fingertips,

admire the beauty in my curves.

Feel me,

the dripping of our sweat.

Thrust, Push

surf on a wave of exctasy.

Hear me,

like a wave crashing,

I moan your name.

My thighs quiver.

I yell,

I reach the TOP.

You reach the climax

of my wave.

Just, ride my wave.

All I See

Your are a monster, you are a freak. You're so fat!

All I see is chunky bits of lard, hangng out all over your jeans.

You know why? Because you eat too damn much!

what? HA! Do you seriously think that is a "small portion" of food?

Add that to your wide hips and trust me- it be large portions in no time PORKY!

Did you throw it all up? GOOD!

You should do it more often; Purge that guilt out of your system.

Humph! Finally something fits you! I guess you are getting better- but u still need more work.

Why is your hair so dead? And why is your skin so gross? Where the hell are your eyes?

They are so dark and you need make up for those circles. Fix yourself up, girly! Because besides your weight, you are hideous!

Now....when I come back to this mirror, I want to see slim and sexy. Cause, all I see is fat and ugly.

** Just thought up of a possible monologue for anorexia/bulimia. I feel bad, for any of those poor girls/boys that think that, binge and purge is the way to go. I know it's something pshycological but, I believe that again the media has a lot to do with this. I like food to much, to ever result into something like this. But i've known a couple of friends and friends of friends that have ended up in hospitals due to such disorders. If you know someone who has an eating disorder help them, they need the convincing that they are beautiful and that it isn't healthy to starve/regurgitate just because u can't deal with "the pounds"....it is sad.

Poverty Line

Toe the line! Toe the line!

I never wished to battle what was over the line.

But if I wanted to at this point,

I could dance with it.

I could laugh at it.

I could flirt with it.

If I really wanted to, if I was insane;

I could kiss it, sleep with it and moan its name.

But I dare not ever do that.

I tiptoe around it.

I dare not wake it,

I dare not cross it.

Another of many fears that I wished never

became such a close friend of mine.

Almost a relative.

Almost a parent.

I could reach over this condemning line

and choke it.

I could stab it,

I could shoot it.

I could feed it arsenic,

I could scald it.

I could throw it in flames

and watch it burn.

I want to, but I'm scared.

It seems to be pretty strong.

Toe the line! Toe the line!

No no,

I dare not.

** I guess it is something, that lower middle class canadians fear- crossing the poverty line. I guess it's something that i've been fearing for the past couple weeks. So i'm speaking about it, bcuz im wondering who else could feel like this. U know? tip toeing along the line, just barely crossing. People who face it and don't care or act like its the life they were meant to live can embrace it, bitterly. And it makes them angrier with the world sometimes. Or those people who are afraid to go into it (which of course is completely understandable.) And then there are those people who wish to jsut b rid of it. Who wish poverty could b terminated, that it would simply die. Well yea there u go...poverty line.

Winter Omens

If I could draw,

If I could paint,

If I could sculpt or sing.
If I could play an instrument, I would personify the misery that I feel

within Father Winter's cracked cold hands.
His touch is rough against my skin, like steel wool.

His kiss bitter.

His voice rough and hoarse like an Overseer.
His lashing wind, burns my skin.The Icy arctic joins and penetrates my shields.

Cruelty cackles and conspires as well.
Such a troupe of odd cynical "gentlemen", bring on my winter omens.
The only thing that takes pity is the soft gentle hum and fall of the

billowy flakes that touch this irritatingly blind white, chilled earth.
Within each gust,

inside each frozen bosom,

contained in each chill comes those bad omens.
Something that destroys families,

that tears hearts, that shatters homes.
A call for omens that cannot be stopped by;

colourful tasteless lights.Countdowns to the end of ANOTHER year

or

a chilly disgustingly sweet day for lovers.
Winter has been around longer then any of those damned things.

Learn to grasp- you better grasp it and see:

It is winning.

It always does.

First Kiss <3

A snowy bank, a sight of natural beauty, for perfect timing.

A few giggles, a touch of skin that tingles like bubbles; always popping.

A stare exchanged, a sound of content sighs of tranquility.

A smile, an urge to grab one another.As if magnets were being pulled together.

A pair of glassy orbs, a sight of relief and youth. Like new stars in each eye.

A silence, a call for something to arrive, beckoning it on.

A flutter, a sound of a rhythmic drum, beating stronger and faster.

A head tilt, a sign of acceptance the coming of a fiery collision, a soft push of the lips.

A clash, a feeling to part them a version of a lover's golden gates.

<3.

This is just a poem about a special kiss in my life. I guess for the past 2-3 years i've considered it that one perfect kiss. Corny I know haha. But its something that has always been able to put a smile on my face. No matter when it is that i remember it, it always looks the way it did when it happened- perfect and true. :)

And I ran

And I ran.

I couldn't stop, that would be foolish.

No no- not while they are still after me.

They taunted me and told me to do things

I have never wanted to do.

So I did what I had to do

I ran.

My heart raced, my breathe raggid.

My feet ached, my veins pulsed.

My sweat ran, I ran.

The torment and punishment of such foul things

so inhumane. They hurt me too much, telling me

false things, evil things.

In result I've caused pain.

I've caused humiliation.

I get the blame- but NO!

It really isn't my fault.

I ran before, honest. But, I never got far.

No no, I couldn't, with the grip it had on me- how could I?

With the coaxing manner of a the Devil himself, I was pulled back in.

My arms, my sallow skin, my missing teeth- I did run but i could never get the hell away!

Damn it, damn it all to hell. It has nearly killed me I tell you, but it only brings me back for more.

More intoxication, more power, more highs and lows. More binging and more lacking support.

God doesn't even help me run anymore, I know he doesn't. Why would he?

I ran so much and so far, but i was always confronted with the worst kind of personal demons.

Damn metal, damn needle, damn foulness...damn devil.

And I ran...in circles.

Let me vent!

Alright right now im in my bathroom, listening to Armstrong and Crosby on my itunes, blockng out the excessive slurrish yelling coming from my living room. I hate my mom's boyfriend. I dislike her friends, and my mom...perhaps i overuse this word when it comes to my writing but its always so damn perfect -Bittersweet.

SOO many pros. SOOOOO many cons. She has changed a shitload, and of course i've been coping with it cuz i love her. But these random "hey lets get together and drink" fridays are reallly fucking annoying. Her loudness and her acting so foolish.

What a friggin letdown man! See i've considered my mom one of the strongest women i've ever known. Shes got some amazing stories u know? But when she has these Bimbo days...ugh its like "GROW UP LADY!" Luckily today i have plans so im going out with my best friend. Take my mind off stuff. Its just really annoying...like there is no other word for it. humph....

And and and....the things that come out of her mouth! like honestly, relaxxx..... Its just too much. I'm now listening to Scream with timbaland keri and Nicole...good song...and its still blocking out the ruckus downstairs. Thank god.

All i gotta do is get my hair did, haha and i am set. I'm out, bcuz of course it was a misson to wash my hair, what with the freezing water and whatnot. (My mother ignored the bill reminder to pay up for the hot water and Voila...we now own the coldest water in the GTA)....i felt my brain freeze from how cold it was but i was able to soldier that.

She just needs a thousand and one reality checks, i love her. i wish i could give em to her. But she will like verbally murdur me by calling me names or something. Or she might even hit me, but thats rare cuz she knows how easy it is for me to get upset over words. The blood is coming back to my hands, they were freezing before but now they are good.

I guess tomorrow calls for a proper shower at my sisters house. Or do it up like the pilgrims, BOIL SOME WATER! Make a fire, rip some sheets. hahahaha...

now as Snoop raps about the next episode it is time to fix my hair.

Thank u mare for my laptop, and for introducing me into blogging...i feel a bit more relieved. :)