"The mark of an immature man is that he would die knobly for a cause. The mark of a mature man is that he would live humbly for one" - Catcher in the Rye -WARNING WRITER SPELLING CHALLENGED! But Sometimes you have to say "what the fuck!"

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Fuck Anoniminity

Yeah yeah. Everyone knows this is pretty much me, miriam here. I havent wrote on this blog for a while cuz everyone and their momma seems to know this is me and then everything I write is scrutinized and up for some sort of public lynching. I never wrote for anyone but myself here. But alas... the double edge sword of being a writer. People love to hate you. They love you write about them, but HATE it too. Expecially if its a little negative, which as morbid and depressed as I am most of the time, yes their portrayal will be harsh. Sorry. Its the nature of the poisen pen.

I did start another blog. Its a poetry blog. Ive been doing a lot of writing on there. Im not gonna give it out here because I dont feel its a safe space. Just due to all the hassels and witch hunting attacks I recieved here. But if you really want to read my poems. Send me an email. YOu know how to reach me.

Peace luv and Humptiness 4-evah!

Here is one of my poems. Go ahead and slam!

Cabrillo Heights Dream
Walls that scream
With cockroaches
And fried food
I heard you
The muffled cries
Were they mine?

Hand on throught
The baby cries
Drowning out the
Split pea soup tension
Like that sappy anology

Old WWII housing
Like matchboxes
Whose walls
Ooze with
Blood past

I coveted time alone
Then I didn’t worry
About keys turning

Your malt ligour breath
Over me
With ham hands
In this shot-gun wedding

Dreams of the Color Purple
And Grapes of wrath
Mastering the art of
Hiding bruises
navy life

With all the trappings
Of small town trash
Where race mixers
Know how to stick to
Their own kind

The niggers on the white girl
Is what you said
Hands grasping my neck
Poor white girl
You whispered
Upon my tear stained cheek

No one wants you
Not even your own family
Narrow ass bitch
You are mine

I dreamt of escape
And prayed
God would save me
Pretending to sleep
Babys breath
Comforting my chest

I knew the day would come
When all comes back
So we packed up
Flipping off military life

Only to return
One day
To that comforting cycle
That I know all too well


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