this is fact not fiction... [entries|friends|calendar] Stevie [ website | original gangster ] [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

(secrets...) welcome... [21 Jul 2021|11:11am] read.at.will

(secrets...) potentially incomplete [19 May 2009|08:28pm] ( click for psalm poetry ) Can I get a walka-walka if we're digging the puns?

(1 can't keep |secrets...) almost ambiguous enough to be art. [04 Apr 2008|03:29pm] [ mood | vivacious. ] I marvel at the fact that you still paint me, villain, smooth talker, magician in words and wiles. I marvel at the fact that you still paint me, at all. All powerful dreamer, with fits of Passion unrivaled, and still, with homage and wreaths, with words like, teacher, and beautiful, and fellow, or both. I marvel you, painter. And you marvel me, but how is that fair? Inspired and slow on a cloudy day, where are you to me? Know, that I would accounted be her. Who stares out from that frame, in vivid color, given by you; for you. Given. And the gift-- a revolution is no gift. Artists always taking credit for giving what was never theirs to give me truths. give me time. give me a WINDOW! Instead you give me something already mine. this form of Socialism ended in a miserable fit of the blues but through spectacles, and under analysis, we send an S.O.S, we send for reinforcements, we ask questions and are ignored. The individual is in soul posession of himself. Mind is self, and so the thinking man owns himself. Yet, idly, no one will own up to that fact. God, must I sit and sew? ******** Referenced, in order of appearance: Yeats, Marx & Engles, Dunbar-Nelson.

(secrets...) Patheticism: If you're not on board you're overboard. [05 Dec 2007|05:00pm] [ mood | inspired. ] [ music | The Elected ] ( Part One: What it is. ) ( Part Two: How it works. ) ( Part Three: Why it's important. ) R E S P O N S E S * R E Q U E S T E D

(secrets...) fifth sestina [18 Nov 2007|09:19pm] ( Then )

(secrets...) fourth installment in sestinas. [16 Nov 2007|01:29am] ( Common )

(secrets...) two revised odes. [11 May 2007|06:06pm] Burn   On my left forearm One spot that will not fade. A patch of light in shine of shade Where pain of touch leant charm.   Bright murk of embers In such evasive eyes Where hidden waits a mirrored lie Though I may not venture.   But still secretly When all is dark and still There flashes a passion of will Burning so discretely. Watch   The impossible flight in freed desire Each night I flee to depths within. The glinting face of time may grin, Yet still it holds me as I retire.   Off to a sea of sleep in lawless days; Leave gallantry to lie in the sand. If I may I’ll busy your hands With a vast intrusion as we lay.   Then waking only to cold desperate night In these shallow sheets and hollow hush; The flashing clocks through hours rush To leave such dreams for intruding light.

(secrets...) might have already seen this... [11 May 2007|06:04pm] again on forever from today only walls or wood or stone will hear me say I miss you should I speak it outloud. I'm giving up your name so no one else will hear it, from me at least, until you can hear it [never]. it seems to me quite unfair that one should have to lack so quietly in solitude regardless of the company. so one little envoi for you because words will be-- will have been-- will remain.

(secrets...) randomness scribbled in between classes. [11 May 2007|05:56pm] unthought A cellular bookmark, (yes cellular, yes, and true, in words) causing pages to vibrate a- live. Yes, false life through tech- nology, yes a fragmented source-- of real life gives life to a book of dead words whose life comes from me now and my eyes reading these pages of a past time when a steam engine was shocking. Times when a cellular was such a foreign thought, it was unheard of.

(secrets...) Sestinas... [08 May 2007|10:41pm] [ mood | anxious ] [ music | Frou Frou ] I'm working on a project that will consist of six sestinas, and some other things that are essentially spin-offs of the same form. Milton meant to justify the work of God to man with Paradise Lost. I take on the slightly more mortal task of justifying the work of man to woman in this project. The poems are meant to highlight the differences and compliments between men and women in a kind way. Kind meaning, not condescending to either gender. The first three wrough drafts are behind the cut. ( cut )

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