reincarnation

Rusty · Post by **Rusty** » 12/19/2005, 9:57 pm

Alex, you're an amazing writer! Like I once said, I've know some great writers, but you're in an entirley other league. I love the way you write, and what you write. You always seem to express so many emotions and feeling through everything you write. Please never stop writing.

beautiful liar · Post by **beautiful liar** » 12/19/2005, 11:46 pm

alex, you are amazing.

clumsychild_ · Post by **clumsychild_** » 12/20/2005, 8:26 am

happening fish · Post by **happening fish** » 12/21/2005, 11:05 pm

thanks guys... autographs by mail only :lol:

happening fish · Post by **happening fish** » 12/25/2005, 12:22 am

"Coaster"

Could I believe that it was?
The jitter that ran through me as
once
again
I saw those eyes
that I’ve seen a million times
in as many ways and places?
I thought I’d seen them all.
But instead of a brush
And a flutter of (maybe)
There was yes and

And so this little secret
(I knew it and you knew it
but couldn’t say,
Not for sure, not with (what if))
It got told, I think.
It must have done because now we
Oh yes. We tell it to each other
when our eyes meet
and laugh at how no one else
could know.

clumsychild_ · Post by **clumsychild_** » 12/26/2005, 9:53 am

This is so real.

It's wonderful.

happening fish · Post by **happening fish** » 12/26/2005, 1:02 pm

Cookie for the Eliot reference :O

happening fish · Post by **happening fish** » 12/30/2005, 1:44 pm

Nobody?! :O

happening fish · Post by **happening fish** » 1/5/2006, 8:37 pm

Hello, Lisbon.
..... I pull myself out of the canal and walk your streets
with all the deference of a drowned mermaid.
..... You may catch me in the failing light, the
frosty night, and hail me well past the hour of my welcome.
..... But oh, I will return to you, and again,
and once more to dip my feet in the water that bore me.
..... And that icy grave will drift me away again
to a land of my own devising. Goodbye, then,
..... Goodbye, Lisbon.
(May my clear waters send thee home.)

beautiful liar · Post by **beautiful liar** » 1/5/2006, 8:45 pm

oh.my.god.

that's beautiful alex. :love:

Kathy · Post by **Kathy** » 1/5/2006, 9:16 pm

I don't have the guts to share any of my writing, never have. I feel like it's a window to my soul, that makes me extremely uneasy. I applaud anyone who can share like you can. And you're very talented

happening fish · Post by **happening fish** » 1/7/2006, 8:27 pm

wordfight.

I write for three days without stopping.
My fingers shake over keyboards
and tremble around pens.
Lights go on and off,
people wake to the world,
it changes, they die,
but I can’t claim the same-
I’ve got penance to do.

The words split and weave
through ten different senses,
slip into new places
where they rage against their neighbours,
fight tooth and serif,
play hide-and-seek behind my eyes.

After the third day, I wake on the floor
surrounded by a litany of failure,
covered in a crusty layer of pride.
(This may also be dirt.)
In the sock drawer I find a confession
whose words are folded in on themselves
and crushed together into verse.
It grabs me by the head
and leads me to the window ledge.

Seven stories later is the end.

don't ask why · Post by **don't ask why** » 1/7/2006, 10:56 pm

ok your writings are the most intelligent thing i've read since noam chomsky's imperial ambitions.

happening fish · Post by **happening fish** » 1/7/2006, 11:24 pm

noam chomsky is my hero

don't ask why · Post by **don't ask why** » 1/7/2006, 11:48 pm

noam chomsksy's pretty cool. so is george orwell.

on another note, how the fuck did the canucks manage to beat mikka kirpusoff?

Hope · Post by **Hope** » 1/7/2006, 11:51 pm

i love this part:

The words split and weave
stubbornly mean ten different things
until I can pin them down, slip them into new places

clumsychild_ · Post by **clumsychild_** » 1/8/2006, 9:41 pm

happening fish · Post by **happening fish** » 1/12/2006, 3:17 am

"Dry Mouth"

I knew her once,
Before she changed the name her mother gave her
And left the friends who dealt in hand-shaded whispers,
The things she could not see but only dreamed of
When sleep would not come.

I had not come for her.
It was not the memory of such a creature that called me,
Nor the stale night air that issued forth from sewers,
Nor the dark of the taverns, with their dripping moans
And desperate denizens.

And yet there I stood,
Praying against all hope that I might dissolve
As the insides of an hourglass, running for the next world
That lay so fully, expectant with heat and sorrow,
Somewhere beneath my feet.

Unimaginable girl.
You call on things you could never understand
Things that shiver undetected through your bones
And steal you from your silent bed to slake
An unquenchable thirst.

crustine · Post by **crustine** » 1/25/2006, 10:14 pm

alex you need to do some research on publishing. I know it is near to impossible to break into the biz but i know there are ways to do it. You start by entering poetry competitions, publishing in magazines (there are many very reputable ones) this will give you the exposure you need to be seen. I know a few authors and I will see if they will give me some pointers on how to get published. It will happen. The sooner the better.

happening fish · Post by **happening fish** » 1/26/2006, 12:18 am

crustine wrote:alex you need to do some research on publishing. I know it is near to impossible to break into the biz but i know there are ways to do it. You start by entering poetry competitions, publishing in magazines (there are many very reputable ones) this will give you the exposure you need to be seen. I know a few authors and I will see if they will give me some pointers on how to get published. It will happen. The sooner the better.

Thank you, that would be SO appreciated. I'm working on it, via my poetry prof. Slowly. But I'm determined and such. I've gotten friendly with the current manager of my school's alternative poetry mag and she flat out told me that she'd like me to take over when she graduates.

and now, here's a ditty about our very own kim!

she wrote with her right
the most left-handed girl
in every fist coffeehold
twitched in birdfeathers
balanceless ear-metal and
sportclumsy child hands.