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is her voice, is her voice reminding you, of the promises, of the white lies too [May. 17th, 2005|09:37 am]
Flat Paper Scroll
auralis
The roots of her tree
burrow beneath
soft mulchy earth
smelling of dying leaves

cold and warm
course and fine
feeding life into viens
light filters through leafy vines
branches that twist and twine

sometimes
when the wind bends
she bends too
sometimes she stays
since that is what she is asked to do

her leaves fall
feeding earth, feeding all
and the storms beat against her barky skin
it grows thicker
as she grows taller

and momentary happiness is found
in bird song, squirrel chatter
and the wisdom which is bound
within her slow and steady reign

to sleep in winter
to rejoice in spring
the leaves are new
the skin the same
to be a home

her roots grow deep
neither straight nor true
in mulchy earth
which smells of rain
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I'm painting graffitti [May. 16th, 2005|04:28 pm]
Flat Paper Scroll
auralis
This is a burning Girraffe
held in a cup
filled with chocolate chalk outlines
This is a pencil
shoved in a monkey
this is a retail moniker laughing
like a junkie
this is realism
monocromatic dramatization
windmills ticking and clicking
clanking like train tracks
leading there all the way back
cold sore on a rainy day
like crickets that can't go away
this is rainbow valley in a haze dream
laughing like a scream
dripping as icecream
nickel, nickel, nickel
pickle? consequence
like picket fence
only shorter
morning stories
one beat in the sunlight
forests impress once upon a time
fairy tale in merry hell
and water running down
take this once and grasp it twice
and never looking down
metaphoric, sophomoric, anthromorphic
figure it out
pout down a well
fill it well
and run.
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(no subject) [May. 16th, 2005|12:56 pm]
Flat Paper Scroll
auralis
Through the barly fields she ran
a grey white dove within her hand
though the water stained the threads
of her gypsy skirt, she fled

The hounds were fast upon her heels
the dove cried out, fierce and shrill
she released it from her grasp upon a hill
as the beasts honed in for the kill

She turned, her dark hair glinting in the light
body tense, ready to fight
a spirit born deep in flight
unbreakable, and undenied

Drawing a short tinkers blade
as the dogs drew up, their teeth a fire in the glade
their breath in the cool night air
misting, swirling, thick but frail

upon the grey hillock she stood her ground
her eyes distant as the dogs circled 'round
as the dove spun twixt the clouds
a spirit without sound

Before the dogs could set upon
a wind rose up and blocked the sun
a fierce howl filled the air
and from the skies an onslaught of hail

The icy fists of Gods vengful hands
drove the dogs from the hilly lands
and when the sky cleared nothing there, nor farther still
cept one lone gray dove, soaring, singing in triumphant trill.
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You would Be [May. 4th, 2005|04:21 pm]
Flat Paper Scroll
auralis
You would be

Consuming, Flaring, Devouring
burning in cold consummation
destroyed and delegated

compartmentalized for the sake of your anger,

crushed in boxes

Paternalized

smelling of musty lavender,
like some moving picture
Shame, lassitude
conflicted calculation

You would be

masked, bondage, trussed
trollop, ::constricting::
a melodrama and duplicitous

constant state of motion

You're tired

You should be

love, light, all the laughter
stamped in expiration
foolish, milk and honey
pale papyrus flesh
nominated, martyr

I am tired

loving, listening, caring
being and ignored</div>
constant, fierce, anticipating,
lustrous whore
like winter and like windgs

Could you be
anymore oblivious.
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Flutterbye [Mar. 28th, 2005|06:17 pm]
Flat Paper Scroll
auralis
I have flutterbies in my stomach
and my giggle fits are making me queasy
this unexplained rational
I can't quite put my finger on
taste of garlic on my fingers
dinner is almost done
I stare at the page in wonder
is this really what I want
I didn't expect a speedy complication
I just happened to miss you lots
and yet I thought
I couldn't remember
that feeling I felt for so very long
it's like I locked it up
left unfinished
and now it's bubbled up
making me all flutterbye
but I still remember
at least that much
the night, or morning
you said goodbye
and I am caught in yet another
giggle fit
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Lunchbox [Mar. 3rd, 2005|08:39 am]
Flat Paper Scroll
auralis
I keep my dreams in a lunchbox
down near the bottom
under my jasmine oil
and favorite gel ink pen
they hide in the side and pop up
when I open the lid
and I push them down
covering them with my 3 1/2 inch disks
that hold my poetry
and stories
and the things I never really finish
and post it notes
stick to their sides
with random numbers
added and subtracted
noting on what I have to get by
I have a camera nestled close
with pictures of random things
I saw on the street
people I don't know
places I've never seen
mixed up with eyeliner
scissors "just in case"
and chapstick
wiggling under silver eyeshadow
and the month old movie ticket
"The worst movie I've ever seen!"
sharing space with white out
and my bobby pins
my house keyes
and my name tag on a paper clip--
and that's where my dreams lie
in this faerie decorated tin.
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Wordless world for the ears only [Mar. 1st, 2005|07:38 am]
Flat Paper Scroll
auralis
You were melocholy perfection
a taste of fruit that left
a colorful after taste
you were all twisted metaphor
and loser syndroms
and angsty teen melodrama
You had saftey pins in your ears
and green spikes on your head
and you laughed at rejected
and I looked at you funny
and you smiled
gritty white teeth, this new generation
you would sing linkin park songs
for some off reason
though we both share the same dislike of them
you were jealous of my touching Rouge
but would give your left *ut
to watch me make out with gwen stephani
cultural icons
cultural whoring
name dropping
you still sing that rainbow song
and take a perverse delight in the muppets
I could have kissed you
while you joked about giving head
need chapstick?
you pressed your slave collar to my lips
and I gave into your boyish whims
your knee high boots with the metal plates
screwed in "just in case one should fly off
while I stomp his face in"
You love kittens and cry during homeward bound
you wear wings beneath the kmfdm shirt
and I wonder just what it would take
to make you stop arguing over
whether or not blossom is better than buttercup

Contradition, my beautiful contradiction.
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On the merits of spell check [Mar. 1st, 2005|10:50 am]
Flat Paper Scroll
auralis
I never use it. Although to be fair I would sacrifice my co-worker Chandon in order to obtain Spell-check, I simply don't use it. I also don't partake in grammer check or sentence structure encyclopedia's born in webster-esque fashion. It's all a matter of worded perception. I have come to accept the fact that I cannot spell, I have not however come to accept the fact that a computer can tell me how exactly to write something. Yes this is a specific manner in which people see words and hear them in their head. Also I cannot pretend that every spelling error is intentional. For it won't be that way. It's the same common sense that prevents poets from sticking their poems into language translators in the hopes their portugese written poem can be rendered in french. Don't expect every nuance of every word to be percise. It's not going to happen.

Now, for the same reason that spell check is wonderful, it is also harmful in the same percise way. It de-humanizes a multitude of the emotion which can come through a poem, or a story. It's true that to correct your mistakes before publishing is rather professional and you are more likely to appease the critiques. I am not seeking professionalism, I am placing my poems in this journal as a map for me. If people happen to read them, errors and all, then fabulous, I hope you enjoy the -content-. It's the content I am presenting, not the dictionary. You get to see how I write a poem. A multitude of spelling errors usually means that the poem was rattling in my head and crying, screaming to get out. That usually means I was writing fast and in an utter frenzy.

In essence you will just have to take it on faith that I do indeed know how to spell "Did" and the fact that I spelled it dd should just be an indication to you that it was my current emotional state and eagerness to express myself in this journal that caused the mishap. Or maybe my fingers just didn't hit "i" hard enough.

Oh and I never expected anyone to bother reading this, or even responding to it. I love you for it though, so don't get me wrong. So I am touched by your concern for my spelling degeneration. It's not necessary though, I kick myself daily for the things I mispell. But it would do my creativity at the time injustice if I were to go back and try and alter the past. This is after all my map.

In ending, the use of spell-check would result in the sacrifice of my co-worker Chandon. Just remember that the next time I mispeel something.

Back to the Poetry!
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(no subject) [Jun. 29th, 2002|09:51 pm]
Flat Paper Scroll
auralis
dd you love me once?
would you love me again?
just want to sit in the corner
I don't want to be here anymore...

you're too far awy
and too close to me
I can still taste your skin
but I see you with her
and it's bitter


(so stupid, so very very stupid)
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Honey Dust [Jun. 24th, 2002|09:48 pm]
Flat Paper Scroll
auralis

her off white sneakers sent twirling clouds of sand off into a chaotic dance of disparity. Her arms bent back, looped arond the multicolored railing, its many layers of paint peeling away revealing the drab hard steel gray beneath. She leaned forward tempting the lust of gravity, daring it to pull her down. One suspended moment, a tugging of wills, in the end gravities and the dizyness she was begining to feel in her head as she hung there made her straighten and stand, arms still looped around metal, in casle gravity got sneaky. Her eyes then ran their natural course to that which layed ahead of her.


The ocean, in its violant frenzy, licking the sands, taking back the world one grain at a time. There it stretched out to unknown places she would never see, assaulting beaches she would never tan on. She smirked teetering back and forth on her heels. The heavy grey sky, rippled in answer to the frenzy of the ocean, trying to strangle the greens with it's opulant greys. The sky was trying to swallow the ocean whole. But the ocean was too busy in its land lust to notice


with nary a warning she unhooked her arms and let gravity pull her down to the sand below. But before it could sprawl her out like so many casulties, she landed with a soft thud lupon her feet. She smiled inwardly from the tiny rush and began walking liesurly towards the hungry ocean. The wind rose in greeting, licking her plain brown hair(a color never made spectacular by any story) till it tangled itself about her head. She pushed it back and continued walking.


She stopped at the edge of the waves, just out of reach of it's foamy tongue and dug a single toe into the sand. It glittered momentarily before it'sl skin of ocean water sunk back into the sand. She then stepped on the newly uplrooted blob of mud, returning it to it's once smooth home. Unconsciously she smoothed her hands over her denim jeans and as if finally giving into gravilty she sat, just feet away from the blemish she had created in the smooth shore.


She closed her eyes for a moment, brealthing in the heavey salt air, drinking in the silence of crashing waves. Once centered she channeled herself, her everything into her hands. Smiling at the tiny nearly cheewed off nails she plunged them deep into the sand, Drawing large mounds towards herself as if to bury her own flesh beneath the goop. When she had a large enough pile she bagan to shape it. Crafting it without thought, knowing that her hands knew what was needed. And there she sat, waves washing over her off white sneakers, the sun slowily diving behind the angry waters. Her hands worked meticulously with the substance. Shaping molding, depositing the essence of her soul into the muddy grains.



The moon casted a silvery trail over the silent waves. As if watching over the girl and her castle. The Street lamps hoarded their pale glow up on the boardwalk, afraid of what the moon would fo if they should intrude. The Girl stood, wiping the muddy excess againts her shorts, she gazed for a moment in longing at her creation. Nodding she turned and walked back to the boardwalk. Now bathed in artifical light she disappeared from sight. Now empty of all living things the beach sat quietly.



The wind gave nary a whisper as the night waned on, the moon hovering ever watchful over the world. The tiny sandl castle which bore the spirit of one single girl, all that she used to be melted slowly back into the ocean. Leaving a single smooth surface, lwith no indication of where an off white sneaker had once been.

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