KodakThe camera steals the baby grass growing brightly from the damp soil. Then follows the two stories, freshly painted, clean-and-clear glass sturdy walls, and doors that don't creak as they open. The neighbor snaps a shot of the checkered blanket and the wicker basket, long legs folded beneath bodies, and smiles on faces, the sun shining down from a blue sky, clouds morphing from one shape to another, Styrofoam cups and plates. Her daddy takes the photograph on her birthday. Her hair is flaming, her eyes are gray, her skin is pale with blushing freckles, chocolate smears are on her cheeks, and watermelon juice drips down her chin. &Kodak
FeelDo you ever feel like you just need to talk to someone? It doesn't really matter what about or who to, which is probably why I am writing to myself about myself. I could tell you that I am younger or older or not what I seem. I could tell you i'm black or white or that my mother is in jail and my father teaches a ballet class, but then those things might be lies. Lies on the net are things you can never really get around when talking to someone. They can tell you one thing, but really be another. I could be a man or a woman, I could be an alien and someone would believe me. I could be anything, I could know anything. I could be doing things tFeel
Just like YOU He was crouched behind a crumbling mass of bricks, smiling at me through the window with his insane eyes. She was spread across the sky to grin her malicious grin from cheekbone to cheekbone as she sent down white sails of snow onto my head. They were crowding closer and closer with a baby's stolen steps. Hoping to draw me into my dark hole, their ears perked to ticket me for the speed of my heart and the fear in my lungs. He was my friend. She was my life. He was my logic. She was my sanity. They want to help me with a masquerade of white walled smiles and pills of care. Run and run and run and hide. Don’tJust like YOU
Mothers and ChildA woman stands outside Alone in the rain Each droplet of water Rubbing against the grainMothers and Child
Of her skin Roughened from toil.
A Mother is this woman Came the birth and after Her life is stained with the sounds Of a child's quiet tiptoes Of meaningless laughter.
A mirror is this child Truth reflected in big brown eyes At herself mother stares Adjusting her lies That only a child did see behind
Only children can cleanse a soul Only children can forgive a lie Only children can think up great things in life Like lemo
your kindness
is wonderful to me
thank you
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[link]
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[Account Closed]
thanks so much for the
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"I've never had a 64 year old grab my boobs like that"
www.jessicarhoades.net `ArtistsForCharity =resurgere
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If you have any questions or need any help, you can leave a message on my userpage or send me a note. [link]
I look forward to seeing your work posted here!
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Heard ten thousand whispering and nobody listening. Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughing. Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter.
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