mea columba atra.

         all you can see are her lips. blood red, saccharine sweet, accented by the most inviting smile. they don't part even as they flash their warning signal-- there's fog, you can't see clearly through the mask of weather you created. there's rain, but no salt; her eyes are shedding the the weaknesses she stole from you, while you screamed, unanesthetized. as a drop hits her lip, they part in the most blinding, piercing, terrifying, liberating smile. she kept that weakness in a box, blood red, and drilled it to perfection. she is merciless. the drop melted. it froze over; uninterrupted ice. her smile sets the shards free, as little bits of chaos.

queen of lust, "queen of pain", mistress of sorrow, with your faults to gain.

I furnished my brain with thoughts and lust,
But neglected to give it spine,
I made it competant, from a simple view
But failed to make it MINE.

So it tripped, and so I stumbled,
Stopped by tears and torn up knees,
A neurotic mess of anguish,
Stooped and begging to appease.

And in the wasted after-hours,
A simple conclusion drawn:
I saw my coat caked in corruption,
While the pain had idly gone.

-x-

Walking though a city
Trying to lose the ghosts
Who whisper subtle obcenities
Trying to gain me as a host--
As we pass the wounded builings
Live, but mourning good construction,
The beggers yell and plead and cry
They say I owe them some instruction.
My feet obey my mind's cold fear
I flee the city of the dead
As I run towards the light, it dims
I stop, too stunned: it spread.

i denied my place as Strumpet, Fortune wasn't pleased,
but she can hardly spite me, i bit through her fated leash.
no wandering minstrel, just wandering; in search of captivation,
for tales of magic, blood, and sand, to calm this activation.
i'll travel till i find a spot beneath her Cherry tree,
or until his Raven brakes to caw of a bloody jubilee.
i'll float in tales, in whispers, in dreams; moving place to place,
always moving, never pining--for i'm filling the wasted space.
i denied the role assigned to me, this is how i'm taking charge:
killing off my misery- my C4 blew apart the barge.
i'm subject to none, exempt from law; where those petty morals dissolve,
my form grows far more visible: in my anonymity, i evolve.

[wheeee; a lot of references in that one. can you guess them?]

-x-

nuzzled in the fuzzy gray, my sullen place of mourning,
my salty, silly, angst streaked tears are growing slightly boring.
cuddled by my inner dove, but urged to face the morning,
i take a stand and kick away my inner imps of warning.

staring in the mirror, i analyze shards and now perfections,
the floor coated in bad blood i bled, leeches full of lost infection.
wondering why the sudden change, the rush of sweet affection,
now that the glassy, masticated walls have lost the battle for protection.

a pinned-up girl in the cardboard box i'd taken for a home,
is drawn out by the scent of life; from city's lust to ocean's foam.
she sprouted and outgrew her cage, stole the wires from the phone,
and formed a makeshift rigging to hold her back from piss and moan.

[unfinished, one day i'll write more in this weird style, i hope, to capture this odd bit of my life. or not. whichever.]
xoxo, anomaly.

I grasp the needle filled with thread,
 unwillingly, i shudder,
"it's neccesary," i coax myself,
 "to stop your nervous flutter.
it's only silk, near decoration,
 now stop your childish shaking."
the voice is far too cold, detached,
 and my nerves are raw and breaking.
the slim saw tip comes ever closer,
but i can hardly scream,
all the voices in my head are yelling
YOU MUSN'T BE HEARD, JUST SEEN.

as my satin bondage is placed, too deep,
 my teeth gnash at my skull.
i can't calm the fury, and too late decide-
 as the silence knocks me dull.
it seems my thinking has no place;
 so the voices get to talking,
laughing at my naivete
and all my silenced squaking.
they scoff at my attempt for good,
 last grasp at hope, they're killing
they laugh until they're full of blood,
 and my tears, not words, are spilling.

today i live in empty rooms,
too anxious for the quiet
i converse with just the other ghosts:
as we sit dead, and isolated in our silence.

YESTERDAY'S

1. tentative title: live the fear

the bones embrace my fragile arms,
bloody blanket clasps my figure,
and though the night air caresses me,
i thrash from it's ghostly figure.
i want to live, i want to breathe;
it never once occurring
inside my skull, that i could be
undead, but fully breathing.

4. an angel, aloft, outside my heart
came to bring me promise
that if i ceased my seven sins,
i could join the winged, honest!
the sweetest smile graced my jaw
and my faces lost all distress,
as tears sprang forth and drowned my doubt,
and mocking laughter caught my breath;
the divine, confused, it's eyes too pure
scornfully took it's leave
when it realized my lust for life and pride
could never God appease.

TODAY: wordplay minigames.

5. slept in eyes and mussed up seats,
discarded notes and fingered beats
mishapen hair and clumsy leaps.
the benefit tired conductors reap:
a scratched out, crumpled masterpiece
that helps the madman pay his lease.

7. paint splattered grey matter
child-drawn upon the sidewalk,
chalk outline dubbed last silhouette:
at least the art is slimming.

i wish i could inspire
your pen to spill my prose,
i wish i was the ragged,
rebelliant, burning rose;
or the view outside the window sill
the candle burning blue,
the romantic view
of wrecking crews;
for the shadows haunt me still.

the now bitter words of lovers past
embraces long gone cold,
my enlightenment, though warm, does fold;
i switch from binge to fast.

kindling the fire of sin,
i'm the keeper of the flame
but if your sorrow puts it out,
i'll silently take aim.
as the asp who steals your throne
or the dagger in your side,
whether i'm brutus or the king,
from hatred's poison, you can't hide.

if you don't like the length: fuck you, delete me. these are the only ones i'm comfortable posting.

1. a little bird aloft in palm
lies witness to the dreaming
the technicolor blackness swirls
a therapudic cleaning.
((which only gathers more--))
a goldfish on a string
sent from Delirium
lacks collar and lacks lungs
devoid of name to come
((i'm burning like before--))
the freckles of the snow
kiss my burning cheeks
their rose is not of shame
but of a love so sweet:
you'll meet
the nightmares so enchanting
which breathe on bleeding throat
suffocation so warmly coated
over third world countries gloat,
for a burning coat of crimson
for an opera of macabre
while a sullen dancer made of scars
laces her arms for the perilous play.

2. orange and yellow like the sun
already, goth fantasies begun
an adult stuck in adolescance
mutability with no penance
sometimes i'm five, sometimes i'm two
sometimes i'm just the color blue
a flower grown in isolation
cared for by contamination
a silly dog playing cat
not chasing, but growling, at the rat.
mini canvases of stripes
a rainbow made of polished pipes
embrace the shaft of privledged pride
writing talent i won't baptize
or commit to any one belief
for what's on the other side of leaf?
move from smaller, bigger, faster
analyzed art with meaning outlast her
canvas is a palatte dropped
some on my jeans, some aloft
i enjoy the fruits of labor's strain
my gift is your idea of chains
keeping me from full contact
at you, my dear, i'll tip my hat;
if i was you and you was me,
would we become the magic three?
the one of creed, the two for fun
the third for cancer so soon begun
at you my dear, i'll tip my hat
i'll take my leave, and
leave.
not.
that.

3. i'm the quiet craziness
which sleeps inside us all
i'm unbound exhilaration
for every floor you fall.
i'm the quiet inspiration
from the malevolently spilled
i'm the longing for the poison
of the forcefully distilled.
i'm eccentric, i am hungry
and you push me down inside
but i think my moon is rising,
i think it's time i drive.

1. the morning after

choking on nostalgia
a suffocating past
eyes appear too vacant
from images too fast:
bits of busted movie tape
laced with bad intention,
keeps barbed wire flowing
to a mind kept from contention.
collapsing in the covers,
here sloth reigns surpreme
as it's host's kept busy
by the dawn of disturbing dream.

2. stealth

i stalk the vacant hallway
which leads me to a door
my path is blocked by steel
so i pick the lock once more,
i quietly draw my weapon
as adrenaline runs high
i turn, and face a barrel
and my brain splatters to the sky.

3. hiding from the demons
crumpled on the floor
shirking from the beartrap
embracing my leg's core,
terror is an ocean
and you're not gifted with a ship
at the first sign of struggle
they'll drown you as you trip.

4. dedication

the braille of scars and pockmarks
reveals a soothing face
broken by a smile
my mind cannot erase
as i trip into the hands
that catch my eye's embrace
the missing piece, a wound, a laugh
a message scrawled on cards
nothing compares in the cold winter air,
reducing the past to shards.

5. permanance

pavement is a canvas
for a love just scrawled in chalk
unprotected when the rains come
and the two drift far apart.
the love that's told in type
remains for all to view
just for haunting future lovers
as a not-so-subtle clue.
the love described in ink
expressed and valued on a page
shown to eyes that matter:
it keeps the actors off the stage.

6. anorexia?

if curves are imperfections
and intimacy's a sin
if i'm looked down on for confections
i think i'll stay within;
where my walls aren't made of glass
and there's nothing left to break
where i'm free to test my limits.
and no one damns what i create.

7. writing is my comfort
a quiet, subtle embrace
releasing inner anarchy
with an eloquence of taste;
as anger turns to sorrow,
i immortalize my pain
my ink leaves blots of blood
till it all runs smooth again,
pleasantries drip out the tip
i enjoy my fights with words
i sprawl out on my paper thoughts
as discomfort flees as birds.

had a lot of white space on a page where i typed up an Atlas quote for my altered book, and started writing on it during study. needless to say, my homework is still undone.
damn.

1. a vicious kiss, the caress of blood
granted by a hierarchy, caked in mud.
the incompetant have slain the divine
with a sexless whore, detirmined to rise.
atlas' burden has been destroyed,
there is no world when minds are devoid.

2. blacked out faces, gauged out eyes
you're hiding in your normal guise
hide your spark: don't show it
if they see, they'll blow it:
extinguished light of life smokes still
it bled out when it lost free will.

3. potent patterns
mystic rhymes
bleeding emotion
from willing crimes:
my pain is worse,
my trials hard,
my inner peace
is but a shard;
pity me,
give me love,
or i shall drag you
from above.
i love the gutter
i claim to hate,
though i never tried
to evade my fate.
so hold me close,
i'll suck you dry
you'll tear with every
tear i cry.
i'll love you dear,
until you break:
then reverse my feelings
to secret hate.
but when i die,
i'll know the fear
i'd once called "longing"
throughout my years.

4. a heart's a heart, a mind means more
when left to die upon the floor
a heart still beats, left in the dust,
but the mind falls prey to ingnorance's lust
the heart can heal, and be repaired
but the mind is fragile, abuse not beared.
the heart's defence is teeth which bite
while the mind has only words to spite.
if you lose the mind and keep the heart
reality and reason soon fall apart,
the mindful will watch, perched up above.
they'll find you, sniveling over your mangled love
no guidance they offer, you made your choice;
they knew a mind could play both, when the heart has no voice.

5. a light to guide, a light to save
a torch for all those doomed to crave
a silent flicker, nothing more
that can be reached 'fore nevermore.
a single glance, a single line-
to promse that not all live have died.

6. love is a mangled, twisted thing
when uniting two who scream, not sing;
the pain in life is far more potent
when it meets an equally tortured component
it condemns to consensual misery;
the two and death, looming, makes three.

7. i dropped the jar
upon the floor
the smash felt louder
than before;
the smoke between
life and death
is far too subtle,
just a breath.
accidents are easy,
the decision, far too hard,
till a flash of life shines forth
from the slicing of the shard.

these are either just poor, or i'm in a shitty mood. neither would surprise me. i'm glad no one waits for updates.

1. dancing on cat's cradle
playing with the strings
as the knot, i wonder,
where does the cat begin?

2. drop your eyes to the puddle of oil
with it's dormant colors that shift and coil,
stretching in the light lent from above
and sleeping in dark away from it's love
so quiet and subtle, you'd need a keen eye
to discern the true nature of rainbows with no sky.

3. scrapes and burns
i cannot discern
what is normal, what is scarring;
paint and powder
applied by the hour
both fake and real are jarring.

4. lumpy with organs, weighed  down by brains
you're so terribly fragile, you melt in the rain
heaving a sigh at life's recurring despair,
wastes just that much more life giving air.

5. riot riot, yell and scream
this is your sweetest, strangest dream
embraced by the violence, coddled inside
boot heel scars, endless black eyes
we're not trying to save the world,
we're just letting our free will unfurl.

6. discord
of the chord
the piano needs some tuning
sour notes
hardly dote
on the singer's fury.

7. apocalyptic anomaly
in the light, she cannot see
floating through the dark, away,
spooking those who walk the day
joining with a single soul
making each a bit more whole
the courage to wake in the light LALALALALALALAL.

8. crumpled by the folds in my shirt
speak to me now, while i'm above the dirt.
i'm quite poor at holding conversations
when i've no breath to use for relations,
or when my jaw has rigor mortis-
so stay and talk, now, before this.
before i'm cold and my soul is molding,
stay and talk: the fire's smouldering.

a chain, a noose
tied up, not loose
you'd think i'd mind
the bind,
but i'm fine
to leave behind
the life alone,
chilled- windblown,
so tie my noose, but not too tight,
keep me close: not out of sight.

-x-

i'm such
_a dreamscare,
nightmare,
half a pair;

i'm a
_cliche girl,
raging whirl,
a tarnished pearl;

with my
_tinted eyes,
i'm a barbed-wire prize;
on my crooked wings, i fly.

yearning, preying
wishing, craving.
barest thoughts
in silent pleas,
from such cold eyes
in your hastened breeze.

-x-

what is my heart
but a target
for a seasoned sniper?
what is my mind
but a sheet
for an informed typer?
to clean and confuse,
have and hang,
use and abuse,
comfort and clang.

-x-

i wipe the hair back off my face,
and find that blood soon takes it's place,
my fingertips covered in crimson
covered in what runs beneath them
the cranial trauma occurred in silence
by an accidental act of violence,
and so i see the blood and shrug-
it's from my soldier; not a thug.

i'll crawl out of my skin awhile
leave behind my blood and bile,
just mass of organs, glistening
without ears; still, listening.
bones are now my only cage-
and all my eyes can show is rage.

1. meaningless prattle
is the glorified anthem
of life's nonbelievers
in the happiness you grant them
left alone to ferment
while the wiser ones fled
the remaining are cheerful and smiling-
bullet wounds in their head.

2. holding a knife
i cannot destroy,
clutching a life
i cannot employ
the power i wield.
i smell decay's stench
but still no one yields.
my eyes bitterly clench.
i can't watch the destruction
of those called "mankind"
so i engage in the construction
of these rhymes in my mind.

3. some minds lay frozen in paranoia,
endlessly envisioning fate,
some hearts are full of tales to bore ya,
it's best to just lock up your gate.
some eyes ache as they see a new day,
vision blurred with the salt of the sea,
and some souls buy in to the new status quo,
while the mentally bound seek to flee.

4. if i held up a mirror
with your face in full light,
would you cringe in disgust
at the magnified sight?
at the scarred, mangled words
you carved into your skin,
that betrayed the frail spirit
you hid far within?
can you look at the brands
you let them inflict,
without cursing your fate
and tasting conflict?
can you stare in your eyes
and legitimately respect
the withered husk you've become:
is your spark but a speck?

hands intertwined;
for me,
hold not just comfort,
but responsibility,
to deserve their embrace
and not spill off the vine,
to have the ultimate grace
that endures throughout time.
to stand among the elite and never resent,
and to allow only one the ultimate consent.

-x-x-x-

i am
mother&lover
judge&jury
friend&executioner
a muted fury;
i have ample understanding
and no mercy,
i don't believe in your family
or in your emotion;
i'm too serious
i'm an elitist;
i don't feel sorry for you
i won't take care of you,
i could finish you with a single explosion,
and though i won't;
i know you will.

-Ragdoll Anomaly Atra.

1. pink petals for a rejected bride
basking in her dampened pride
hands play with the flower's skin
as she waits for life to start again
tears will pass and wounds will heal;
but even flowers always feel.


2. the black abyss is dark indeed
and the devil's a sweet talker
but the line which lies between
can be a bit more awkward;
caught between the hellfire
and the condescending lute
lay the broken and the borrowed,
heads bowed in grim salute.
dear souls left to earn their way
but can't tell which end's up-
there's a God laced in bigotry
and Satan and his poison cup.


3. and suddenly a fiery dawn
embraces yet another spawn
and greets him with the noise of day,
expecting he can find his way
through mangled streets and hidden tiers
and the smell of sex, sweat, and fear.
another newborn lost today;
got ate up in the world's decay.


4. paint spatter
fallen ladder
urban art complete,
a vandal's message-
the thing to stress is:
ALWAYS KEEP RECIEPTS.


5. if i braided us together, would i make a home?
a perfect little isolated self sufficient dome?
or would we suffocate on the words and laughs and tears?
would we shatter like the free thrown bottles of prohibitioned beers?
could we coexist, or make a list, or start a nuclear war?
...i'm not so sure about this concept as i was before.

released by peace
embraced by hate
lacking guilt
quit the race.
hate the players
fake the game
says the fucking loser
"hello, rejected fame."

-x-

pictures lining mental walls
i love my isolation
where the great can stand and tyrants fall
and the crowd's doused in condemnation.
where i can draw on window panes
and undo my corset's strings
with my balloons and with my rage
i can wear my many rings.

-x-

this room is not a playpen
this mind is not a cage
these bonds aren't overbearing
this life is but a stage-
with drunken actors losing parts
to those who know the game,
a comedy, if you can look
beyond it's constant pains.

-x-

my stomach vomits words
so i arrange them in a string,
i tape them down to keep them there,
but still, away they spring-
if i should chase them, i would fall
and if caught, their wings would wither,
so i simply watch them flit away
till they willingly sit hither.

-x-

the ticking clock's a piece of art
can you smell the structure?
the painted rue, it's art too,
it's unbridled paint is feeling!

the question is, my lovely reader
can you see a hybrid creature,
as better than the two?

-x-

i smell anarchy in midnight air
and calm in early morning
i paint my days with color craze
but cannot help from forming
a longing for the violence lost,
in a forgotten scrap of time
where it expressed the lust for life
and not the need for dying.

-x-

if the skeleton key unlocks my cell,
what happens if i ate it?
i like the quiet, dark routine
i'd rather not escape it.
if you could leave me ten, twelve years
i'd send a card of thanks,
imagine all the works of art
i could create without this ANGST.

where halos fade and lightning strikes
where hunts are fun, where the good dreams bite
where roses don't wilt, where storm clouds shine
where the road forks up, it's there you'll find
the land where i am queen;
and you are king
where hybrids roam
and creatures cling;
where pride is right, and in plain sight:
you see fault and fame collide as might
where i am i and you are you,
there, certainly, i'll play with you.

-x-

playing love notes with the keys,
raucous chords combine,
i sing my scattered stanzas
and hope the spotlight shines.

-x-

shoot to kill and maim the will
the dissident spirits fall
come out to play, you'll fly today
you're the one who wouldn't obey.

-x-

if you'd kindly pull my ribs apart
you'll see within i hold a heart;
protected by an unseen shell
fed by some to keep it well;
i let it flower, let it fade
let it differ day to day;
but ever-present is the sign,
that claims this heart as someone's prize;
despite confusion, clouds and rain,
this is someone's pride and pain;
and so it beats within it's seat,
facing he who beat the feat;
of playing with it's rhythmic tones:
uniting them in their alone.

first thing is an idea i thought of a week ago and only came up with the first two lines. most of the rest aren't too good, but fuck it and fuck you. the rest were random musings, except the adam and eve poem, which i'd rather be a painting but i'm a somewhat shitty painter! so. we'll see if it yields anything in the future. till then, vale.
-Anomaly
NEWSFLASH-
Man Marries Television, Computer Objects.
New Children's Recess Game: Russian Roulette!
Cartoon Charachtor Convicted of Promoting Homosexuality Receives 10 Years in Prison.
Carbs Found to Cause Cancer; Sandwiches on the Endangered Species List.
Foreign Minister Remarks on Conciences Scarred by War, President Replies "What concience?"
Father Hangs Self; Children Miss Funeral for Inheritance Funded Cruise.
Women Goes on Violent Spree in Department Store After Trying on Pants that "made her look fat".
Man Arrested For Breaking and Entering Into his Own Home, Sentenced to Two Weeks House Arrest.
Man Accidentally Shot by Police at a Town Parade Is Said to Have "Gone out with a Bang"
Gas Prices Rise; People Find it Cheaper to Buy One-Use Cars.
Investigation Finally Proves The Cake is Indeed a Lie.

-x-

potential dreams
errupting screams
can you taste the mourning?
the broken beams
white light, it seems;
the morning birds are scorning.

-x-

teleconference
correspondence
the static here is feigned
US Senate
they never meant it:
thier force is uncontained.
the endless violence,
and secret confidants,
our ties to life are strained-
hello Big Brother,
you're undercover,
but your empire's been maintained.

-x-

the new adam and eve stare up at the tree
boggled by the fruits of thier labor,
they seen money hangs there, cash earned with much care
thier hard work returned through the vapor-
They read out a hand to embrace thier sweet prize
as thier hands close, a cold voice comes booming forth:
"Take your hand off that tree, it belongs just to me
and you're banished, i'm taking your key."

-x-

chewing my hands in place of your name
the plane of restraint is only a game
like seeing how much air my lungs really need
and how much paper my handwritings feed
how much silence i give at the drop of a hat
how much gas i can guzzle, how many pedestrians run flat.
how much angst i can sell, how much pleasure i buy,
how many souls can i hold, how many hearts i can fry
how much ink i can waste, how much poison i drink
how near i can get, how close to the brink.

-x-

i put on ruby slippers,
and stepped into the glass,
but literature never told me
how easily mirrors smash.
i cleaned my magic carpet,
laid the shards in honey pot,
and went back to my longing;
in my house of cards: i thought.

-x-

i saw her faint in the face of debate;
her own twisted emotion was all she could relate
while her mind shut her down, a technical crash
may she rest in peace; Halt the camera's flash.
no more resentment for the dark we can see
untie her from burden, let's set us all free.