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Christine
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 1:32 am |
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The Ophelia of IMWAN
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Joined: | 09 Feb 2016 |
Posts: | 3321 |
Location: | Under Fur Blankets Galore |
Bannings: | Loveshack.org, SI.com |
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Welcome to the only thread you'll ever see me post Poems make my heart less dead, and so I raise a toast To soppy, fluffy turns of phrase and purple prose galore! To overdone, washed-out cliches and tacky metaphors!
To glorified depression, to souls misunderstood! To angst-ridden expression that would make Twilight look good! To cringe-inducing mentions of death and tears and pain To begging for attention, and without a trace of shame
Linda's somewhat concerned that she has frightened me away Be very scared to learn that I will actually stay The sad, godawful lines I pen denote that I'm quite mad Once more, and I'll say this again- my writing's really bad.
So go away- I understand if you wish to depart The words that leave my questing hand will horrify your heart The mental state that I'm in makes Romantic poets bawl So drink again to Simon, who will likely read them all.
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Simon
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 1:34 am |
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Joined: | 26 Oct 2006 |
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I'm not going anywhere, Christine....you'll just have to do your worst....you know I shall read it all and smile.
_________________ "They'll bite your finger off given a chance" - Junkie Luv (regarding Zebras)
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Linda
IMWAN Admin |
Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 1:37 am |
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Helpful Librarian
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Joined: | Day WAN |
Posts: | 196909 |
Location: | IMWAN Towers |
Bannings: | If you're not nice |
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What an entrance! 
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Christine
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 1:47 am |
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The Ophelia of IMWAN
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Joined: | 09 Feb 2016 |
Posts: | 3321 |
Location: | Under Fur Blankets Galore |
Bannings: | Loveshack.org, SI.com |
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Why thank you. Just don't say I didn't warn you.
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Christine
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 2:03 am |
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The Ophelia of IMWAN
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Joined: | 09 Feb 2016 |
Posts: | 3321 |
Location: | Under Fur Blankets Galore |
Bannings: | Loveshack.org, SI.com |
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My latest. I never title these things. May as well start off this way, what the hell?
I write, I sing softly, I stare at the sky To placate the tiger inside I need it again and I'm wondering why - Have I not a measure of pride?
Each day presses in with the weight of the earth Yet here am I, nothing at all I've been locked in fear since the day of my birth I haven't all that far to fall
How desperate the calling; how shameful the need! The moment my mind's given pause To sit with itself, I desire to bleed Or at least feel the scratch of the claws
I'll write all my grief 'til the urges depart Like some wretched stereotype The tiger will roar and will claw at my heart Until I've earned every last stripe
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Simon
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 2:10 am |
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Joined: | 26 Oct 2006 |
Posts: | 59397 |
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*Applauds* You're already developing a unique voice...it's there, you just need to let it unfold as it wants to. 
_________________ "They'll bite your finger off given a chance" - Junkie Luv (regarding Zebras)
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Christine
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 2:37 am |
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The Ophelia of IMWAN
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Joined: | 09 Feb 2016 |
Posts: | 3321 |
Location: | Under Fur Blankets Galore |
Bannings: | Loveshack.org, SI.com |
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BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE. Just wrote this, just now. Just you wait. By morning I'll have put tail firmly between legs and deleted this entire thread.
Assailed from all sides. Battered, broken and bruised
And- though I'm not certain- quite likely abused
I slog through the slough of despond and I try
With all of my soul not to give up and cry
When hope leaves us hopeless and lifeless, bereft
When dreams turn up missing and nothing is left
We don't need a map or a plan or a plot
We live because life's really all that we've got
Without any hope and without any light
We have to keep fighting, if only to fight
And yes, it's quite pointless and hopeless, it's true
But not fully worthless because I have you.
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Simon
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 2:43 am |
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Joined: | 26 Oct 2006 |
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Please don't do that. You're safe here, you know.
_________________ "They'll bite your finger off given a chance" - Junkie Luv (regarding Zebras)
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Beachy
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 6:26 am |
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Mr. IMWANKO
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Joined: | 18 Sep 2005 |
Posts: | 73838 |
Location: | the Moist Periphery of Pendulum Tide |
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Simon
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 7:05 am |
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Joined: | 26 Oct 2006 |
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Indeed....always. Beachy is a wise man.
_________________ "They'll bite your finger off given a chance" - Junkie Luv (regarding Zebras)
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Christine
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 8:13 am |
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The Ophelia of IMWAN
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Joined: | 09 Feb 2016 |
Posts: | 3321 |
Location: | Under Fur Blankets Galore |
Bannings: | Loveshack.org, SI.com |
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I didn't mean to speak a word To say what should be left unheard. I live in fear and grief and shame Implanted because I'm to blame.
I thought I wouldn't make it through The darkest night of him, but you Stepped in and gave me hope again And happiness where hurt had been.
Trust is a poison gladly sipped Fallen before I knew I'd slipped. Happiness is a drunken vice. Hope is for those who get hurt twice.
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Simon
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2016 9:37 am |
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Joined: | 26 Oct 2006 |
Posts: | 59397 |
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*Applauds*
_________________ "They'll bite your finger off given a chance" - Junkie Luv (regarding Zebras)
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Simon
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Thu Feb 25, 2016 12:58 am |
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Joined: | 26 Oct 2006 |
Posts: | 59397 |
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I await the next offering....
_________________ "They'll bite your finger off given a chance" - Junkie Luv (regarding Zebras)
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Christine
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Mon Mar 07, 2016 5:13 am |
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The Ophelia of IMWAN
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Joined: | 09 Feb 2016 |
Posts: | 3321 |
Location: | Under Fur Blankets Galore |
Bannings: | Loveshack.org, SI.com |
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[temporary edit]
Last edited by Christine on Wed Oct 18, 2017 5:26 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Simon
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Tue Mar 08, 2016 1:04 am |
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Joined: | 26 Oct 2006 |
Posts: | 59397 |
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Brilliant, as ever. I couldn't ask for a more talented younger sister.....nor would I want to. 
_________________ "They'll bite your finger off given a chance" - Junkie Luv (regarding Zebras)
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Christine
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2016 12:06 pm |
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The Ophelia of IMWAN
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Joined: | 09 Feb 2016 |
Posts: | 3321 |
Location: | Under Fur Blankets Galore |
Bannings: | Loveshack.org, SI.com |
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A blurry adolescence A world that doesn't make sense The death of an innocence An open door to hell
My sanity is long gone What cruel God makes me live on? My synapses are built wrong Can't anybody tell?
I'm quivering and screaming There's no hope for redeeming My mind, but no one's seeming To notice this at all
The horrors that befell me When no one knew to help me Mean nobody can tell me That youth is beautiful
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Christine
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Oct 19, 2016 10:32 pm |
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The Ophelia of IMWAN
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Joined: | 09 Feb 2016 |
Posts: | 3321 |
Location: | Under Fur Blankets Galore |
Bannings: | Loveshack.org, SI.com |
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A moth was drawn to The monitor’s spiritless moonlight To embrace imaginary stars While behind the ether He stroked her swarthy, wrinkled face Tenderly kissed the shorn black hair. The war-weary oxygen tank lumbering dutifully behind As her full weight Leaned upon the aluminum frame and him. He turned to me, and with a flicker of a goodbye Extinguished the connection. The metaverse asleep in a soot-black haze, I gingerly lit the thin tallow candles, And rising from the mahogany desk, I sighed, Dragged my mind from his shadow, Brushed out the tumbling ringlets, Dried my ivory cheeks, And drew the canopy closed, sleepless, Chasing imaginary stars.
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Christine
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Wed Mar 15, 2017 5:29 pm |
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The Ophelia of IMWAN
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Joined: | 09 Feb 2016 |
Posts: | 3321 |
Location: | Under Fur Blankets Galore |
Bannings: | Loveshack.org, SI.com |
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This isn't poetry. I don't know what it is, but it's going here. -------------------------------
When I was twelve, I learned about tuberculosis in school, how it made real living women in the real living world into little porcelain dolls in gilded cages. How it leeched the blood from their bodies and created a dawn in their eyes rising in heavenly harmony with their temperatures. My idol was Virginia Poe, the Madonna from whom I sought intercession. Her Eddy composed a world of words, all hers. She rested in palaces of poetry, the reigning queen of her private paradise. Her frailty coronated her; each chill enrobed her in white. Her sickness kept her safe.
When I was thirteen, I learned of anorexia, the way fallen angels whispered secrets in the ears of young ladies and made their bones blossom like tulips, their two lips blue like irises, their irises staring endlessly at the silent sunrise somewhere in the middle distance between life and death. Pretty broken-glass shards of girls who bleed flowers, who eat sunlight and walk en Pointe, leaving no trace of their presence. A legion of doctors would breathe them into budding, defrost the tender wintergirls into gardens until they went dormant again.
When I was eighteen, I was given depression. I, a blushing bride already deflowered by anxiety, sought a second marriage to chronic misery. I wept at the dinner table as my new husband asked my mother, "What's wrong with her? How do we make her stop?" When only sobbing answered him he built me a palace out of pink ribbons and fur blankets. This happy dagger keeps me trapped, sheltered in solitude, this pretty bird in her gilded cage, perched on her pedestal, slowly forgetting how to sing as as she succumbs to a different wasting disease than the one she wanted. I have my tragically beautiful end, and I take shards of glass to my arms whenever I'm not trying to mold myself into one. I don't understand why I don't bleed flowers, or why porcelain white is such a dull and hideous color when I am clothed in it. I can't tell myself why my royal robe became my shroud. All that matters is that I got what I asked for. I have my palace now.
Long may I reign.
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Simon
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Thu Mar 16, 2017 2:29 am |
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Joined: | 26 Oct 2006 |
Posts: | 59397 |
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Christine wrote: A moth was drawn to The monitor’s spiritless moonlight To embrace imaginary stars While behind the ether He stroked her swarthy, wrinkled face Tenderly kissed the shorn black hair. The war-weary oxygen tank lumbering dutifully behind As her full weight Leaned upon the aluminum frame and him. He turned to me, and with a flicker of a goodbye Extinguished the connection. The metaverse asleep in a soot-black haze, I gingerly lit the thin tallow candles, And rising from the mahogany desk, I sighed, Dragged my mind from his shadow, Brushed out the tumbling ringlets, Dried my ivory cheeks, And drew the canopy closed, sleepless, Chasing imaginary stars. Yikes. 
_________________ "They'll bite your finger off given a chance" - Junkie Luv (regarding Zebras)
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Christine
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Sat Mar 25, 2017 9:52 pm |
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The Ophelia of IMWAN
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Joined: | 09 Feb 2016 |
Posts: | 3321 |
Location: | Under Fur Blankets Galore |
Bannings: | Loveshack.org, SI.com |
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To Whom It May Concern:
I've heard you are an art collector. So please come back and wander Through the gallery, and when You find me, come pick me up And dust me off and take me home.
Maybe you will get lost In the lithe marbling of my veins Or my streaming curls Or the blossoming space between My clavicles where the oceans collect And flow away.
Maybe I will give you What I cannot give myself.
Maybe you will be my eyes And see me If I hang here in this empty hall And wait for you.
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Christine
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Sun Mar 26, 2017 11:57 pm |
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The Ophelia of IMWAN
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Joined: | 09 Feb 2016 |
Posts: | 3321 |
Location: | Under Fur Blankets Galore |
Bannings: | Loveshack.org, SI.com |
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Would Ophelia have lived If she had lived for herself? If her songs were light and Hid no shadows behind her earthen eyes, Those muddied waters Salt circles and estuaries, Welling up and flowing, Would have remained dry Barren and lifeless.
If she had preferred the flowers To stay firmly grounded where they Belonged, untamed, unarranged, unshaped, They would not have had The blessing of being A girl's soul instead of mere plant life.
When sorrows come, They make us more than what we are. We become metaphor, immortal. Men have spoken Ophelia's name For fifteen generations.
There are vast oceans of things So much worse than being dead.
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Simon
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Post subject: SO. MUCH. POETRY. Posted: Mon Mar 27, 2017 8:27 am |
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Joined: | 26 Oct 2006 |
Posts: | 59397 |
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Being dead is pretty bad, though. At least if you're alive there's a chance things will improve...
_________________ "They'll bite your finger off given a chance" - Junkie Luv (regarding Zebras)
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