Reality TV 6Resilience? Hah, don't make me laugh.Reality TV 6 by EmaciatedandEpitaphs
It's turning into dreamland again. A blur of
Ponderosa pines, mountain's misery
Stare into me. Grisly
I feel her reaching for me. A scream
The speed of sound
Emptiness unfurling from my fingers.
. menage a trois .. ménage à trois .. menage a trois . by Amanda-Graham
- inception -
that thrill of panted suggestion
« I know someone, it's just a mention. »
- introductions -
first throw, possible seduction
excitements of discoveries
looks, the quickened breath
wet beneath the dress
straining pressured excitements
- but -
beneath it, in action, layered
at first soft below the sheeted
sour breath of competitions
les deux femmes
yeux sur l'autre
bouches ouvertes lié langues
enterrer leurs dents dans le col de leur sœur
pour attirer l'attention du mâle
springs to attention, then wearies
at the time the hours
they spend together
their ease of conversation
in same sexed pleasure
- the breakfast table shared -
sharpened daggers, in held breaths,
. stomp .. stomp .. stomp . by Amanda-Graham
faint praise on any
th' sound of my heart
steel burnt beam crush
my lust's rust
Plains bitch scalped
what never counts
"High Art" lived an' lost
netflick fuck'd an' licked
paid th' cost
tweaker twatter prozac batter
psycho'd bitch drama
little sister romper stomper
© Amanda_Fucking_Graham 2014
Image: "between the shadows of your words" by :iconMWeissArt: © 2014
yeah ... i'm a white, western-desert b'yotch ... not country ... western; and i ride sweated hard and whipped harder ... so hide baby girl ride away ... 'm jus a dust-storm on 'nother horizon blow'n hard at ya t'day
*blue ermin loop™ #KillinTexas *
... inspired by a conversation with Hana mah cacklin' witch-sistah ... :iconMyBlueBalloons:
. sacrifier - ma vie pour la votre .. sacrifier - ma vie pour la vôtre .. sacrifier - ma vie pour la votre . by Amanda-Graham
“Sacrifice, by its strictest definition, takes something precious in exchange for the appeasement of a higher power; an abiding devotion to a cause that cannot be satisfied with a simple promise. Because an oath, no matter how solemn, asks nothing in return, while true sacrifice demands unspeakable loss.” – Emily nee Amanda “Revenge – episode Sacrifice”
. amber .
yellow street glow
flash unclean mouth
rooms the proletariat
her eyes pas affectée
all, hollow yet alight
. Twitter Poetry – 7 .
all that you know of me
my thighs run with
use your eyes
your fruitless mind
lick me up
. Twitter Poetry – 9 .<
Poeme du jour / Daily poemEt ton sourire fantômePoeme du jour / Daily poem by lombregrise
dans le lit froid de mes
And your ghostly smile
in the cold bed of my
Poeme du jour / Daily poemLa lune regarde envieusePoeme du jour / Daily poem by lombregrise
les fleurs mouillées
sur ta tombe
Envious, the moon looks
at the wet flowers on
. until i touch you .. jusqu'à ce que je te touche .. until i touch you . by Amanda-Graham
there is nothing to fear from me ...
once motion is made beyond my simple expositions ...
of who and what i am ...
that hurdle of acceptance
(so huge a leap to make) ...
larger than the one i take
that single step of trust
that long uneven path of us
en emplacement instables
en pointe traces
until a hand touches a hand.
"until I touch you" © Amanda 2014
Image: "Hungry Eyes" by :iconAngelikaZbojenska: © 2011
*blue ermin loop™ no to snowboards - but i will ink you upon my skin *
... Heather ...
Everything You Were Ever Told is a LieIf the key won’t turn, kick down the doorEverything You Were Ever Told is a Lie by Bark
If the sun won’t rise, tear down the sky
Until the ugly blank truth is revealed
There is no kindly wizard behind the curtain
Drumbeat bone sticks slice up the night
Cardboard grey behind it, just like the day
Expiration dates stamped on every forehead
Of all the zombies walking through the world
All I remember about Vietnam is the music
The same that plays in the MRI machine
So many helmeted heads breaking through
To the blankness of truth on the other side
Kick in those doors, tear down that sky
Reveal the behind-the-scenes nothingness
Put a tune in your pocket to take out with you
Grit your teeth, run; you missed the starting gun
EquilibriumIndignationEquilibrium by retr-o-bute
Forgiveness offers anonymity.
I will tame this
Spectrum of existence
I have come
That these artificial divides
Are an archaic,
Relic of apprehension
I refuse to live in.
Faith is the unity
Of heart and mind
That elevates the living from the alive.
Sore, tattered skin,
Torn, withered within,
Resentment is no longer my restraint.
Reborn with ambition,
Warm with animation,
Guilt will no longer be my love's blind.
Consumed all I could see
In my memories of you and I.
I struggled to understand
How I could love a soul
Yet clamour for natural consequences.
Affection and indignation
Are not to be divided,
As the sins from the sinner are.
I found the strength to love you,
And the strength to pardon myself
For your addictions.
Can you imagine a life
Beyond these bars that bind?
Can you find serenity
In this sobering, unfamiliar territory?
If you can, you aren't blind,
If you can't, I'll be your guide.
. y ."Winter is coming so fast ... cold ..." "umm hmm" I thrill in shelters of my memories. "Did you hear me?". y . by Amanda-Graham
© Amanda 2013
Images: "Untitled" by :iconmenervaTau: © 2013
"dreams" by :iconphotoport: © 2013
"I am of the leaves which tremble II" by :iconRapidHeartMovement: © 2013
"My Bitter Half" by :iconStarsColdNight: © 2013
"Motherland Chronicles #38 - Dark Side of the Moon" by :iconzemotion: © 2013
AloneThe simplest things, I can no longer decide for myself.Alone by GypsyMountainman
No longer am I whole.
I am tired, my spirit broken.
My fight is gone.
Nature beckons me to come,
deeper still, she whispers.
until her icy embrace holds me tight.
Come to me, she cries
I am broken, my spirit tired.
My fight lost.
The Dreams of ExistenceOnce there was an existence so small, smaller than the particles of dust in the infinite universe. She had a small existence but had a big basket full of dreams. She was happy and she had faith that someday surely those dreams of hers would be realized. Everyday she would get some dreams from her basket and watch those dreams become a reality. Then everyday she’d produce new dreams and she’d put it in the basket. The basket was like a good luck charm to her. It would often smile at her and encourage her. Seeing the basket made her feel that she wasn’t so small after all.The Dreams of Existence by moonlight-fox
Then one day a strong wind blew and it blew away the small existence’s basket of dreams. All the dreams within the basket disappeared and the basket was broken. The small existence could not believe it. She had invested so many dreams on that basket, the basket looked at her and it apologized as it slowly closed it eyes.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect your dreams”
an alleyway made for hatefresh paint echoes in my nosean alleyway made for hate by introverted-ghost
and i am running through a hallway,
as blue as it ever was,
where the sun filters through windows
set high above the reach of children;
the air is heavy with isolated summer heat
that sits sticky on my tongue,
my shirt clings to my sternum in patches.
i don’t want to be here in this
my heart slipping out of place within my shell,
but i am –
i am here
and the walls bleed terror in unison with my flesh.
i am not yet twelve
but these words will sing within my cells forever --
these subtle kicks beneath the table,
they will cling to my inner walls
and bleed out until i bleed dry in a bed i never made;
i will feel the slow trickle start in my teens,
and by my twenties it will have become a flood so heavy that
i'll be running from it until i die.
September, October, November, December CONTESTS!First off, I would like to apologize for this group being so quiet the last few months. I have been keeping busy with a new apartment, a new job, and a new school.
To make it up to you, I would like to introduce a string of contests starting on September 1st! I am very excited and hope you will be too:
SEPTEMBER: HOW SCHOOL SHAPED YOU
School is starting, and for many children, this is their worst nightmare. Bullies seem to lurk everywhere in school hallways, and their words can stick forever. But for many other children, school is a safe haven, allowing them some support from their home life. The point of September's contest is to write/draw/paint/anything about your own experiences in school, supportive or negative, and to really give some insight about how those years have shaped you into who you are today. In the description, write about it more in depth, and give your opinion on how school can better protect against bullying in the hallways, classroom, or the child's home.
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From unrealityxx Recovery through Poetry