~SweetBlackRose13

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About Me Member Jordyn GuzmanFemale/Canada

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shine

Feb 13, 2010, 6:58:14 PM by ~SweetBlackRose13
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

i think we could surf on the sky.
like those flying frogs
with their confidence,
surety of foot;
poise
like we had //
may have had
at some point.

and we could open our wings,
the ones which were
coloured for camouflage but
always flaunted like
expensive cars,
shiny coats like on
the dollar store and converse shoes
when we could ignore the ugly truths
about who's paid for the mistakes //
not mistakes.
but that is what has to be hidden

if there are calluses
they will heal,

and we can go back to those days.
everything was literal and everything was true,
beauty thrived in record labels and
vinyl, concrete in their own way –

soft sand
under our fingernails
as if it was meant to be there
and arms linked casually on a
boulevard lit with tv sets in condos ,
street lights
a world we belonged in. //
did we believe that, then?

nevertheless.

we can shine on,
dive off mountains
and land, delicate on our clumsy feet
even if we know we can't.

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Newest Deviations

mountain road do you darling tower in brown and in green,
and harp over harrowing highways?
and will you be caught, smaller than you seem
in person with hands from sharp edges,
dull, darling, soft

or are you racing faster now that you are far
or are you just romanced by distance,
and do i miss your simple smile or your
saccharine ideas in engagement rings?

but put these aside, put away these mountains
because once they were algae and carved through by ice
and do i miss your peaks, no, do i miss your blue-silted rivers
or your branches, or your simple homemade pines
that grow by the river home –

put aside this grandness
and unmovinmountain road by ~SweetBlackRose13

talk they can't talk to you because they can't ask questions. them with the glasses fit for university degrees and bookish salaries, or student loans, them with the crosses, them who only read the holy books.

i cannot tell my elbow from my knee, but i can sit cross-legged on basketball courts. the air was heavy and wet. i heard hummingbird tattoos flitting off ankles and we argued about poetry. i hit you with sharp wings. they cannot talk to you, because i think i know who you are

and they can't talk to me because they can't ask questions. them with the cigarettes, them with the numbers in their books, them with the maps of existence mapped talk by ~SweetBlackRose13

Human I cut them swiftly and maybe-accidentally;
My thumb, my index, my right hand
Squeal silently. My throat is healthy –
So the doctors say. The twig-like harpstrings
Free to breezily dance, brazen and rash.

I tell them they are paralyzed. They tell me they are stubborn.

Fingers twiddled to their trials, and faced themselves:
Stubs. Stumps. They become what they never wanted to be,
And pain blooms years later as they
Line up with trails many times trodden

By stubs, by stumps.
They tell me they are paralyzed. I tell them they are stubborn.
I cut them swiftly, and on novel pages their life stains brown.
They sting when theHuman by ~SweetBlackRose13

prodigal for miles of garish pages,
it will be almost perfect
so i read for the ups and downs and the
topsyturves and the skydove devastation drums,
and i beat them back with sticks half cracked
and wait for them to stop.

i find myself alone
and desperately try to love it,
(down it or drown it)
i catch random whiffs of sweet i refuse to drink.

we used to be together a team in this fucked-up trial
but you cannot be my armour and i cannot be a key or a roof or a
large net you hope not to fall on

so cummings says read for, read for
read for
but i read for the end.
i read for perfect and heads on shoulders and
memories of jazz andprodigal by ~SweetBlackRose13

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arriving from always, you'll go away everywhere sleepers, pull your eyelids apart—i will disturb you from another dream.

this is the edge of the world, the edge of senses, where man meets himself and learns silence. how stoic, this state of stone, of stories! how lonely, the luxury to meet yourself and wake up, to meet yourself and know god! alone, you will go forth in the service of phantoms. young girls with their hair pulled back make wishes where the water, shifting, ends.

hello, and welcome to the city of poets! you come to us caught in the winded breath of sages. you come to us with the plight of the poor piled on your shoulders. you come to us, and after you comes a deluarriving from always, you'll go away everywhere by ~archelyxs

Star Filled Nights Do you remember when we were young?
When we didn't have a care in the world.
Only the invincibility in our hearts,
that we knew we could
fall.
fall.
fall.
And wouldn't even get hurt?

Remember despising each other because of
irrational jealousy and thoughts,
and laughs induced by broken hearts,
and faded memories like your favorite pair
jeans?

Remember what it was like to feel the way you felt,
on that cold December night, where you were shaking;
but not because of the cold? Because of the silent
lullabies fluttering in your heart. Because, baby,
you've been waiting for this moment for most of your
life. YStar Filled Nights by ~Saidye

god to say I don't believe in you
would be too small a claim.

I abhor you, despise your sick
toothless mouth
twisted in vile satisfaction,
your wrinkled palm raised to slaughter
millions, your raspish voice
commanding to pillage, plunder,
rape and kill.

you are a jealous god indeed,
a sickening monster feeding off the slime
of the world you created;
you've a hard-on for suffering
and you'll get your fix.

tell me, demon, cancer,
sore, anathema of the planet you
"protect:" how many people must be massacred
in your name before you find it wise
to lift a finger?god by *Hersoftestsoul

an ode... your body, seeming to be made of more
than electric veins and hollow bones, sings
to me of home and of the distant shore,
of tears, of grace, of winters and of springs.
in the darkness you shine, you glow, you blind
these thoughts of shadows and the voices of
this inconsistent, discontented mind.
you speak only a language that i love,
a language i can comprehend, unlike
these little paper people all around,
speaking the paper words too much alike -
these paper people bound to paper ground.
leaving this world to its decaying art,
i fall into the rhythm of your heart.an ode... by ~The-Howling

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Critiques

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FRAMEWORK - Bad Business One of the last things his father had ever told him was that it was bad business to have the gun you were trying to sell pointed right back at you. Very bad business the arms dealer deduced, if it just so happened to fire, because that might just be the very last thing you would ever see. The deep yawning maw of a gun’s barrel is something no man in their right mind wants to stare into, especially if it’s the last thing.
He had reason to believe that that very image was the last thing his father saw. He never really had practiced what he had preached, that man. He had ofte

FRAMEWORK - Bad Business

by ~StephethxLoser

VIEW CRITIQUE

-1- Starbucks "Version 2" On the island of Manhattan alone there are over one hundred and fifty novelty coffee shops attached to a very infamous chain. Every one of them is sure to be serving the very same items, and it built, albeit the location in generally the same way. It goes for not solely this chain, but every chain of coffee shops anywhere you can think of that at eight forty five in the evening most evenings, they are a downright boring place to be.
Very few people seem to crave caffeine at such an outlandish hour. Those who do, while eccentric enough peo

-1- Starbucks "Version 2"

by ~StephethxLoser

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i am

May 8, 2011, 6:23:26 PM by ~SweetBlackRose13
Journals / Personal

in one of those beautiful relationships where one studies poems and the other studies cars, and yet both feel at home on bikes and in trees and it is mutually agreed that cut flowers are actually kind of depressing;

and we've both had that thing where home's been found in the strangest of places and society's been watched between clumps of dirt and we are so in awe of that, separately and together; but he chokes on vegetables and i cringe at meat and he waits silently while i scream for serenity towards and against the same, same oppression;

i hit back and he christian turns the other cheek, and i hit harder and he christian holds out his hands which have never been in fists but to defend my bruised lips

while i read for life and he reads life in unsuspecting people like me, while he pries gently and i open slowly like mint from plastic packaging to moist blankets of soil

one of those beautiful things

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~SweetBlackRose13

Jordyn Guzman
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature

Canada

"I'm not going to change the way I look or the way I feel to conform to anything. I've always been a freak. So I've been a freak all my life and I have to live with that, you know. I'm one of those people."
John Lennon

Montreal

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Comments

~archelyxs Jul 11, 2011

Thank you for all the kindness!

~summernightangel Jul 1, 2011

hello lovely. just telling you that you are brilliant<3 i hope things are going well for you.

--
((but oh, at least we know that if we die, we lived with passion))
_-cartel

~SweetBlackRose13 Jul 10, 2011

heyhey, you're the brilliant one,

little random check-ins and love make me smile every time.

things are going wonderfully for me, and i hope they're going great for you, too. i got engaged yesterday.
tell me about your summer <3

--
“He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home."
von Goethe

~summernightangel Jul 13, 2011

engaged?! oh my goodness, congratulations to you and that lucky guy ^^
my summer is pretty alright at the moment, but i'm looking forward to the end of it because of my birthday and moving to college, yayy :]

--
((but oh, at least we know that if we die, we lived with passion))
_-cartel

~SweetBlackRose13 Jul 16, 2011

which college? =] what are you going to study? it had better be literature.

--
“He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home."
von Goethe

(1 Reply)

~TFTwee Jun 26, 2011

deviantART muro drawing Comment Drawing

--
And people say you
dye your hair and
wear tight jeans,
that doesn't mean
that you can't
scream, or like loud noise,
you've got a choice,
you have a voice.

*beeinthebottle May 20, 2011

Thank you.

--
My muse has returned. I think I'll kill her.

~SweetBlackRose13 May 22, 2011

--
“He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home."
von Goethe

~Calleixeire May 15, 2011

Thank you so much for the watch!

--
Every living being is an engine geared to the wheel-work of the universe. ~Nikola Tesla

~Saidye May 7, 2011

Your beautiful. I love you. And you are the spirit of amazing.

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