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Array
(
[sid] => 75898
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => If I tell you a story Will You be a bird with a Bro_ken Heart?
[time] => 2004-12-15 14:34:44
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => If I tell you a story will you say it’s not a story at all?
If I write you a poem will you say it’s not really a poem?
I hope these letters-- standing tight and straight near one another, barely touching, like humans, barely emotional, will fold upon your thoughts and shake your pupils, make you feel a little like a bird with a bro ken heart.
She was young, Borderline soured by Bipolar,
disorders ****ing with her head
round and round and around
a narcissist, a pretty girl, with dry hair and blue wounded crawling steel eyes
she had Him to rescue and save her
and say
“no you cannot die today I love you too much”
and she loved him, loved him for two years,
and happiness reflected in their lies
loved him
until she heard music coming from inside her little fetus-cradle,
and she went to the baby butcher,
and this…this event…was worse then decaying ballerinas in the dessert…
this affair
hurt her disorders so they bled and bled all over her thighs and his hands
his hands couldn’t hold up under the weight of their blood
so he left her un married un grown up un happy
desirable!
Smart girl dove into every lake that gave her warmth
she thought about Him, thought only when she was alone
inside her heart there was always a little hope the size of a sponge cavity
(and let me tell you He though about her, and needed her, and knew she was the only girl, the only ****ing girl!)
and then she met another Him, who collected raindrops for her, and silently loved her
and she loved him
loved being with him, licking his lips off, loved him on her stomach and on her knees,
but that’s ok, because he was good to her,
and she asked him to cut her, to hit her, all those feelings, the disorders had numbed her, she could only feel physical torture, physical communication
and they lived together for a while
sexually happy simply happy
emotionally she never
could never be adequate
she thought of
them both, inside her.
Finally she pounced on a great idea,
and it became her obsession, her only desire---
the three of them living together
(living in the kitchen the living room the bathroom and the bedroom)
loving (loving her loving him/ loving him and loving everyone)
being together (conversations, kisses, and babies)
she reasoned they loved her, they knew her, they ****ed her,
together the perfect creature in a picture so clear, so passionate
unity in three
who said love is two?
as you have probably figure out by now the two gentlemen weren’t too happy
sharing her
deviating from the standard coupletry
but
they loved her more that all the inhibitions and insecurities combined
in bed---
they shared and made love to her
and she made love to them
and they shopped together, and watched movies together
but it was all about her
the men lived for her and looked at each other with resentment
and then she became pregnant
and no one really cared who the father was…
Ninth month
her pink hair resting on their shoulders
she in the middle
eyes on the screen
some Sundance movie
and He looks over at Him
over her shoulder
and moves the hair out of His face
tenderly
and she goes into labor.
-->
[comments] => 5
[counter] => 240
[topic] => 2
[informant] => ina
[notes] => [reposted by mod]
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 0
[ratings] => 0
[editpoem] => 1
[associated] =>
[topicname] => LovePoetry
)
If I tell you a story Will You be a bird with a Bro_ken Heart?
Contributed by
ina
on
Wednesday, 15th December 2004 @ 02:34:44 PM in AEST
Topic:
LovePoetry
|
If I tell you a story will you say it’s not a story at all?
If I write you a poem will you say it’s not really a poem?
I hope these letters-- standing tight and straight near one another, barely touching, like humans, barely emotional, will fold upon your thoughts and shake your pupils, make you feel a little like a bird with a bro ken heart.
She was young, Borderline soured by Bipolar,
disorders ****ing with her head
round and round and around
a narcissist, a pretty girl, with dry hair and blue wounded crawling steel eyes
she had Him to rescue and save her
and say
“no you cannot die today I love you too much”
and she loved him, loved him for two years,
and happiness reflected in their lies
loved him
until she heard music coming from inside her little fetus-cradle,
and she went to the baby butcher,
and this…this event…was worse then decaying ballerinas in the dessert…
this affair
hurt her disorders so they bled and bled all over her thighs and his hands
his hands couldn’t hold up under the weight of their blood
so he left her un married un grown up un happy
desirable!
Smart girl dove into every lake that gave her warmth
she thought about Him, thought only when she was alone
inside her heart there was always a little hope the size of a sponge cavity
(and let me tell you He though about her, and needed her, and knew she was the only girl, the only ****ing girl!)
and then she met another Him, who collected raindrops for her, and silently loved her
and she loved him
loved being with him, licking his lips off, loved him on her stomach and on her knees,
but that’s ok, because he was good to her,
and she asked him to cut her, to hit her, all those feelings, the disorders had numbed her, she could only feel physical torture, physical communication
and they lived together for a while
sexually happy simply happy
emotionally she never
could never be adequate
she thought of
them both, inside her.
Finally she pounced on a great idea,
and it became her obsession, her only desire---
the three of them living together
(living in the kitchen the living room the bathroom and the bedroom)
loving (loving her loving him/ loving him and loving everyone)
being together (conversations, kisses, and babies)
she reasoned they loved her, they knew her, they ****ed her,
together the perfect creature in a picture so clear, so passionate
unity in three
who said love is two?
as you have probably figure out by now the two gentlemen weren’t too happy
sharing her
deviating from the standard coupletry
but
they loved her more that all the inhibitions and insecurities combined
in bed---
they shared and made love to her
and she made love to them
and they shopped together, and watched movies together
but it was all about her
the men lived for her and looked at each other with resentment
and then she became pregnant
and no one really cared who the father was…
Ninth month
her pink hair resting on their shoulders
she in the middle
eyes on the screen
some Sundance movie
and He looks over at Him
over her shoulder
and moves the hair out of His face
tenderly
and she goes into labor.
-->
Copyright ©
ina
... [
2004-12-15 14:34:44]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: If I tell you a story Will You be a bird with a Bro_ken Heart?
(User Rating: 1 )
by eyesxcriedxout1989 on
Wednesday, 15th December 2004 @ 03:47:51 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
This is a great story...umm just a question though, did the guys become gay at the end, when she went in to labor...I dunno, but thats how I percieved it...Great write though
Mason |
|
|
Re: If I tell you a story Will You be a bird with a Bro_ken Heart?
(User Rating: 1 )
by Ina on
Wednesday, 15th December 2004 @ 04:26:36 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
THEY KEEP DELETING MY STUFF>>>THIS IS CLEAN!!!!
the poem...below
If I tell you a story Will You be a bird with a Bro_ken Heart?
If I tell you a story will you say it’s not a story at all?
If I write you a poem will you say it’s not really a poem?
I hope these letters-- standing tight and straight near one another, barely touching, like humans, barely emotional, will fold upon your thoughts and shake your pupils, make you feel a little like a bird with a bro ken heart.
She was young, Borderline soured by Bipolar,
disorders ***** with her head
round and round and around
a narcissist, a pretty girl, with dry hair and blue wounded crawling steel eyes
she had Him to rescue and save her
and say
“no you cannot die today I love you too much”
and she loved him, loved him for two years,
and happiness reflected in their lies
loved him
until she heard music coming from inside her little fetus-cradle,
and she went to the baby butcher,
and this…this event…was worse then decaying ballerinas in the dessert…
this affair
hurt her disorders so they bled and bled all over her thighs and his hands
his hands couldn’t hold up under the weight of their blood
so he left her un married un grown up un happy
desirable!
Smart girl dove into every lake that gave her warmth
she thought about Him, thought only when she was alone
inside her heart there was always a little hope the size of a sponge cavity
(and let me tell you He though about her, and needed her, and knew she was the only girl, the only ***** girl!)
and then she met another Him, who collected raindrops for her, and silently loved her
and she loved him
loved being with him, licking his lips off, loved him on her stomach and on her knees,
but that’s ok, because he was good to her,
and she asked him to cut her, to hit her, all those feelings, the disorders had numbed her, she could only feel physical torture, physical communication
and they lived together for a while
sexually happy simply happy
emotionally she never
could never be adequate
she thought of
them both, inside her.
Finally she pounced on a great idea,
and it became her obsession, her only desire---
the three of them living together
(living in the kitchen the living room the bathroom and the bedroom)
loving (loving her loving him/ loving him and loving everyone)
being together (conversations, kisses, and babies)
she reasoned they loved her, they knew her, they ***** her,
together the perfect creature in a picture so clear, so passionate
unity in three
who said love is two?
as you have probably figure out by now the two gentlemen weren’t too happy
sharing her
deviating from the standard coupletry
but
they loved her more that all the inhibitions and insecurities combined
in bed---
they shared and made love to her
and she made love to them
and they shopped together, and watched movies together
but it was all about her
the men lived for her and looked at each other with resentment
and then she became pregnant
and no one really cared who the father was…
Ninth month
her pink hair resting on their shoulders
she in the middle
eyes on the screen
some Sundance movie
and He looks over at Him
over her shoulder
and moves the hair out of His face
tenderly
and she goes into labor.
|
|
|
Re: If I tell you a story Will You be a bird with a Bro_ken Heart?
(User Rating: 1 )
by Ina on
Wednesday, 15th December 2004 @ 04:53:52 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
Oh and Mason. Yes you are right they (not became) but ened up falling in love with each other....
So homosexuality is not "clean" now?! Grr. |
|
|
Re: If I tell you a story Will You be a bird with a Bro_ken Heart?
(User Rating: 1 )
by zenmind on
Thursday, 16th December 2004 @ 04:04:58 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
This is one of those stories that should only be told at climactic moments in film. Partly because, this poem, unfolded like a movie in my mind, and I could see this moment in film, of you telling this story, and the camera keeps flashing back to your memories, and your memories show the story as you tell it in the present, and you are crying. This isn't something you bring to school for show and tell. It's a bold thing to write, and to share with others.......plenty of censored lines, full of love, hope, loss..............life...............It's stories like these that uncover the meaning of why we live. The personify the entire point of this trip.....to live....to love....to lose....to cry.....and at the end, to hopefully be grateful for all of it, inspite of everything. A Beautiful Tragedy
If I tell you a story will you say it’s not a story at all?
If I write you a poem will you say it’s not really a poem?
I hope these letters-- standing tight and straight near one another, barely touching, like humans, barely emotional, will fold upon your thoughts and shake your pupils, make you feel a little like a bird with a bro ken heart.
I feel like this could be a monologue in a movie. It could be the very first opening shot, maybe of the main character, thinking these lines, ready to tell her story, reflecting on her memories.
until she heard music coming from inside her little fetus-cradle,
and she went to the baby butcher,
and this…this event…was worse then decaying ballerinas in the dessert…
this affair
I wish I would have written this. censored
hurt her disorders so they bled and bled all over her thighs and his hands
his hands couldn’t hold up under the weight of their blood
so he left her un married un grown up un happy
desirable!
I love the desirable at the end here. I guess I always trip out about contrast between images....un grown up and unhappy------desirable. You're saying one thing, but meaning the exact opposite....maybe a little sarcastic or even satirical. Plus again, this would make a great movie....great descriptions....feels like blood....your blood....
honest,
raw,
true.
Yes
Be True,
zenmind |
|
|
Re: If I tell you a story Will You be a bird with a Bro_ken Heart?
(User Rating: 1 )
by reilt on
Tuesday, 18th January 2005 @ 01:12:54 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
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