[x]

a siren's song.her ribcage burst into flowers
as her lungs swam to sea
and the world was silent
-like a film set on mute-
as it watched her dance
into her coral grave.

she grinned and laughed
and all you could hear
was the metallic scraping
of her tongue on her teeth
as her coppery laugh
fell into the ocean-
like a penny onto concrete.

her hair was a tangle of seaweed
drenched in brine
and adorned with salt flecks
that caught the sun in waves
crashing along the shoreline
in the treble notes of symphonies.

ensnared in wanderlust,
she ran towards the current
in hopes of finding herself
among the lost.

there
she wore fish-scales
on he

DragonflyTranslucent mosaic of sinewy wire silently rips apart the air
with its cigar shaped abdomen bobbing up and down.
Appendages curl, each flex reflecting hidden aggression,
while eyes, reflective discs, reflect no depth, no emotion.
Empty.

Empty as its cruel grace, as it hovers across water
rendering silence through equal portions of fear and awe.
From the surface, tangerine rays sparkle iridescently
through willowy wings, yet lacks verve, lacks life.
Muted.

Muted as it covertly snatches a diminutive fly by the wayside,
which is twitching, thrashing futilely within an iron basket.
In one fluid movement, animation ceases as does breat

I WANT TO BE A UNICORNSome say they want to see a unicorn and see the magic that be,
but I want to be a unicorn and be the unfurling magic I see,
an innocent child of nature, my lunar goodness I will reflect
in every rippling current my horn annoints, evil I will deflect
far from me and those who believe in the power of a pure heart
I will come to them, brightening their shade with my mythic art.

I want to be a unicorn and be the magic that is me,
goodness spiraling outward from my being others will see
-and the gentle wisdom reflected in my new moon eyes,
I will live my life with a pure heart sweet and silvery-dyed
by the enchantment spun by the forest

For the love of HyacinthusApollo,
Longing for the love of Spartan's youth,
In a field of green hues where no flowers grew,
Lay his loves wounded body.
From out his pale, still and lifeless chest,
Sprang forth the loveliest of flowers.
A site so beautiful, the gods were moved to tears.
Bending down, Apollo caressed his lovers cheek,
His tears mixed with mortals blood--
More of these flowers thrived in his embrace.
Convinced these oddities were created by the love they shared,
He named the flower Hyacinth, after his beloved.

The CanvasThe words lick her skin like fire
The sting of her own wrath takes away
all sense of self-esteem
and strips her of her already too small pride

Who does she think she is anyways?
She's the girl nobody wants,
The one nobody ever really sees.

Carved into her own special canvas
are the truths of her life staring straight back at her.

There's no escape from your own body,
No escape if your hate has been etched into you.

Marked permanently by the labels
Splashed upon her like paint
Criticism sketched into her heart
And her ever changing canvas

After all,
You can't outrun your own body

art in all its formsi'd like to own a typewriter and hire a mechanic to have him
remove all the dots above the i's and j's so that i could type
the way i write. then i would sit cross-legged on a sandy beach
and write all day while the seagulls sing and the wind tosses my
hair until i have to spend hours untangling it. i'd write late
into the evening by the light of the moon, and i'd go every day
to see its waxing and waning and never-changingness as it peers
down at us from the dark heavens, forever in our orbit (just like
i will spend the rest of my life orbiting you). and i would savor
the simplicity of this moment, of sitting on the beach w

the kind of girl you wait for.She's deserving of the entire world's praise,
Though is too humble to ever accept it's true.
She is the source of all this never-ending craze,
And she sticks to a man's mind like super glue.
She has eyes that are dark as the night sky,
And hair that's bright like a blooming daisy.
The population listens whenever she sighs,
And all that once was clear becomes hazy.

DitherI stand on weak faun knees
Strength emerges
Resolute
And dwindles

I am the tide
Powerful
Tame
Ebb and flow

I hold your memory
Dear
Painful
With love

Red eyeThe humidity plasters hair to my face like a sticky web. I draw some of it away with a wet hand. The net covers my hand and I cast it into the ocean, dispelling scales stuck to my hand with it.
A small part of myself hopes it will snare the elusive golden fish.
Creaks shudder through my shins, and the boat tilts slightly to the left before straightening. Green eyes flick to my chocolate gaze. The peach-lipped smile below them paints blush on the sharp panes of my cheekbones.
Simultaneously, we look away, our gazes concentrating on the softly rolling azure blanket, and the brief flash of fish tails.
My line jerks, pulling me forward. I fumble,

UndiscoveredThis

This white-washed adulation

Creeping all over my entity

... entity,

Broken and forlorn

(It was never whole
so that it could
break)

Kismet

There is a single burned out
street-lamp
...outside

Across the way

Stolid
What once was
My guide

Every night I sit and watch
The flying little stars
Swarming about it

Flying little stars
Fruitlessly trying to
Rekindle it

Fading in and out,
Millions dying just to
Try

And I play the Moonlight Sonata
To grieve with them
(For them)

(...That light,
won't

return)

Devastate me:

I peeked inside of my entity
and it was
terrifying

Far more so than the filth
creeping all ov

These are my words. 1st draftWho are you?

Because I don't know who you are, all that I know is who I am. And even so I'm still learning about that too. Because I don't know what three words best describe me (all I know is that "happy", "artistic" and "outgoing" are far too superficial to be me). Skin deep I am a girl with too many stitches to count and scars to match, a bony mass of tibias and femurs and clavicles, ribs that are always a bit too visible for my own good, all held together by a glue of tissues mixed with lilacs and trillium blooms.

The Stars are Dead Tonight.Dear Christ!
What a sight to see at night.
There is nothing.
A nihilist night-
A void that goes on for leagues.

The stars are dead tonight.
My lamp is lost amid
The deep sea dark of
That great abyss above me.
It reflects my spirit.

Those stars have hidden themselves
In shame. They will not
Look at us, our little mess.
I miss them. The moon
Is forced to watch us
In horror. I pity her.

The stars are dead tonight.

goodbye sweet nightmares goodbye sweet nightmares

goodbye sweet agony,that which has caused my heart to bleed, I am finally rid of your fever
others have spoken against you my sweet love that I believed so tirelessly faithfully remaining strong within your grasp
once I opened my mind and closed my heart with anothers kiss you began to vanish from my mind and it was over, I awaken
does it still sting for you? when you lie with another lover that will only use you for what values you claim to have hidden away
bring them, those who falsely use your heart in contempt, to justice, though you are gone from my heart I still

With Me NowIt so feels like you are with me right now,
When it's time to give up,
Time to let go,
Leave yourself with me,
And I with you.

You seem like a dream,
Cause I knew I'd never see,
A creature as beautiful as you,
Now that we are here tonight,
I can see how I could disbelieve.

When we are alone,
You are with me always,
At least it feels that way now,
I've given my love and my life,
Take it with open, loving arms.

So far,
Yet so close,
Apart,
But never nearer,
It so feels like you are here right now.

Welcome BackIt's time you started listening to yourself,
And all the crap you think people believe,
Those lies and pretty things,
That come off your tongue.

When will you realize that nobody needs this?
Harsh words and crude insults,
Meaning nothing,
But clearly making the point.

Your nonsense comes across crystal clear,
Yet you say it is all in jest,
Never intending to really hurt,
Another Kodak "just kidding" moment.

You are a joke and a fraud,
So welcome back to the circus.

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RestrictionHumidity hangs;
find myself staring out there.
Inside, a window.

Xenophon's AnabasisEncamped in Persia searching for
the city Plato made.
Armed glory, Spartan friends, regret:
The loss of homeland gained.

Lack of Focus (haiku)Failure to study -
a fungus upon a log,
looking like a frog.

FearSilence over grave's
mere grass, set tombstone, flower.
Am only here now.

Rejection perceivedThe feeling that I was rejected did not come from any particular words. It was her body language, her visible discomfort - despite the beautiful sunny day it was, despite our conversation earlier, despite my caring for her - that made my heart collapse upon itself.

I thought we were getting somewhere. Apparently I am the only one with feelings when we communicate.

When I sigh now, it is not a sigh that comes from mental exhaustion, or from the knowledge of tedium. It ultimately comes from that physical feeling, that one where the walls of the heart are thinning and the blood right there is aching and the organ itself is rolling into a ball

JournalWriting in journal,
details like torn photographs -
imaging a part.

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On a Quote from Anais Nin

by *akarra, Apr 28, 2012, 3:07:59 AM
Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Philosophical

You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living.
–Anaïs Nin

The collapse of conventionality can be more than fatal. Our death – heck, even just our failure – brings down others. I can't emphasize enough how correct characterizing the world as "delicate" is. The unjust, awful things that happen to us on account of institutions partly occur because they feel threatened by the smallest of problems and we don't wish to cause more trouble for others.

Maybe we can say man is the conventional animal. Is he the one who can make his bed and lie in it? Not quite: the delicacy of the world will not let us conclude such a thing. But we cannot conclude what lies beyond that delicacy is natural in any way we can comprehend or use. Nature seems, at times, only the possibility of reforming a broken convention. Many things could be said at this point, but I wonder if our resistance to politics is that life is too political for us already.

On a Quote from Anais Ninby *akarra

Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Philosophical

Originally posted to my blog here: [link]

Submitting on dA because I suspect Anais Nin would be someone dA is more prone to read than my immediate audience.

If you like my work, please do keep up with the blog and perhaps give me a like on facebook: [link]

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=Sammur-amat May 27, 2012 General Artist

_{As delicate as trying to walk on bird bones without snapping a single one. I should spend more time pondering on these sorts of things.}

*akarra May 27, 2012 Student Writer

It's such a tricky quote. At first I was tempted to say that yes, release from the shelter - the delicate world - is living. But that isn't true even on the quote's grounds. All we know is that we believe something to be life that isn't.

=Sammur-amat May 27, 2012 General Artist

All we know is that we believe something to be life that isn't- Ashok Karra
I'll prolly be using this (with full credit to you- of course)

*akarra May 27, 2012 Student Writer

Yes please! That's a huge ego boost and is most welcome.

=Sammur-amat May 27, 2012 General Artist

I'm glad to have helped brighten your day then!

~BluMiu Apr 28, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

I've thought about these kind of things a lot, and like your thoughts on it, and the quote. They both speak a truth that is often overshadowed. It is harder to ignore in present times, but I still see the 'powers at be' fighting it, even average people resisting such notions.

*DramiraDarkthorn Apr 28, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Good analysis. I like the quote a lot. The words used are simple but more effective than you realize at your first pass at them.

*akarra Apr 28, 2012 Student Writer

How's your week been, how's your day going? Hope all is well with work and life...

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