Tuesday, 15 December 2009

  • Acid Raindrops. (dedicated to the modern day poet)

    His words were like acid raindrops,
    the beautiful chemical imbalance that withdraws me
    from the realm of systematic thinking,
    lures me in closer each time.
    I feel the familiar sting of conventional truth lingering by,
    yet never truly dissolving away.
    He is the one who holds the power to invent candy-like atmospheres
    with their dangerous addictions.
    Staring into the visionary sky,
    there is an oppositional reflection revealing forbidden, untold stories,
    and with every drop that brushes my skin,
    it cuts through me with vivid theories.
    I indulge in the fields of fierce beliefs,
    hoping to catch a glimpse of his understanding youth.
    I am drunk from his words.
    You are my poetry overdose.



    p-kin

Thursday, 03 December 2009

  • The fool looks at a finger that points at the sky. (Dedicated to Mama Backbone)

           I went for my visit, bright daisies in hand as usual. A tiny framed lady whose appearance fools at first glance. She's survived wars, separation, abuse, and emotional bloodshed. She has endured more than anyone I know and dedicated herself solely for her family. Without her ever knowing, she gave me the greatest gift I have ever received. Quoting, "With age, I began to notice the beauty of simple details, especially in flowers." I always brought her flowers after that.
           You see, my grandmother shares a special connection with people, she has the ability to give a genuine feeling of warmness and comfort, the kind only grandmothers give. She's our mama backbone. She's the reason we are here, no matter how difficult our obstacles are, hers were always worse. And gosh, she's just so darn cute with her homemade knitted hat. During the time of the year where holidays are flooding in, anxious school exams, and busy work schedules seem to dictate your life, I forgot to look closer and enjoy more.
    So, what would I like for Christmas?

    These days, I just want to enjoy the little things.

    *Dear Rockwell, I finally understand the true meaning of your story involving Annie. Thanks for sharing a piece of your soul with me all those years ago.
    Keep on chockin' & singin' your beautiful prose.

Tuesday, 24 November 2009

  • Ask what makes you come alive, and then go do it.

         Many of you recently have asked the meaning behind my most recent tattoo. All my tattoos have an undeniable amount of thought invested among them. However, a particular bird exists as a permanent reminder to validate my confidence in life.
         One of my silliest fears developed at the age of eight. I suddenly realized that death, being inevitable, is like a stalker. Its always nearby and opted to attack at any given moment. With a failed attempt, you can always count on it to take you down someday. I became obsessed with the thought, my anxiety: sky high. This phase abruptly subsided when presented with a cute puppy, compliments of my father in his ill, yet successful attempt to dispose of the idea. The shiny object technique has long faded since. (many of you are probably disagreeing, but that's a whole another post :) It wasn't until years later (and countless, feeble attempts) the final victory over my fear was met.
         It wasn't death I feared, it was being forgotten. How easy it is to forget things! Much less remember an entire person. Throw me in quicksand and watch me disappear as if I was never there. The idea of it all going away, my family, friends, the ability of free will, scared me shitless. I will become part of another collection of boxes buried not to prevent decay, but to be storaged like a dusty bookshelf of forgotten items. How will I tell my story? How will I tell my family,     Hey...I'm still here!
             Ironically, that was the beginning of my "writing career". The peacock is often a symbol of immortality. It permanently remains not to reassure myself that I will never be forgotten, but to remind me you will never go away. You stand for everything we live for, that this is not a wasted effort. So in essence, this one's for you guys.
                            


    *off-note fun satirical jibbery:
    I think this may have developed subconsciously when I drifted away into the Gulf of Mexico. Yes, that's right. I floated away. Which was unnoticed by anyone other than myself and a lady who was near by fishing. She ultimately became my savior. They say everything is much more dramatic and traumatizing when you're younger than how it really was. (What a load of BS.) I've since despised the ocean and anything that could inflate into a flotation device. Drift off into eternal hell or lead me into a dark depression of separation anxiety? hmm difficult choice.

    You are all out to get me!....except fishermen.

Tuesday, 10 November 2009

Friday, 06 November 2009

Wednesday, 04 November 2009

Sunday, 01 November 2009

  • Halloween 09: A Night of Debauchery

    Halloween is my favorite holiday.
    I dress up, eat candy, get wasted, scare some little kids, encounter random strangers.
    Every year, we head to Austin and participate in the annual 6th street Halloween festivities.
    This year I went as a Silent Hill Nurse. Turns out no one believes in dressing up as something scary anymore.
    I'm glad I got to stare people in the face as they walked by, and then followed the ones who looked frightened.

    Ever try drinking whiskey shots through a straw? disgusting. Couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't talk.
    The night ended and I missed it, don't remember the last hour, I woke up in my hotel room in my jammies,
    hungover, a cut on my left palm, scraped knees, and a whole lotta bruises. BEST HALLOWEEN EVER.


    11166_165869441332_656841332_3307488_3090080_n 11166_165869396332_656841332_3307483_6329675_n 

    PhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucket PhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucket PhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucketPhotobucket

     

Thursday, 15 October 2009

  • The Catastophe of Success.

    "In the time of your life - live!...That time is short and it doesn't return again.
    It is slipping away while I write this and while you read it,
    and the monosyllable of the clock is loss, loss, loss,
    unless you devote your heart to its opposition."

    -Tennessee Williams

Wednesday, 14 October 2009

Monday, 12 October 2009

geena_weena

  • Visit geena_weena's Xanga Site
    • Name: p-kin
    • Member Since: 11/19/2002

Pulse