A Picture and a Poem

picandpoem @ 2008-07-19T10:53:00

2008-07-19T15:55:27Z

stormy afternoon, 330pm; chicago

GOING GLOBAL

i don't have much to say today,
aside from
it's raining like the west end of hell
out there.

i saw a woman
over on st james
off of clark street
the other day...she was going on about global
warming and hurricanes,
as i smiled and walked on by.

"where were you this past winter
when it was so cold...for 5 straight months - it'd blister
your skin just to be outside longer than 2 minutes??"
i laughed.

she stopped for a moment,
looked at me
up and down...probably figured i was too dumb
to convince
and went on about her ranting.

i'd venture to guess
she's probably home today,

watching the rain
just
like
me.

My boyfriend.

2008-07-16T01:27:33Z

And so, my heart was unveiled;
I thought after his first attempt, he would have bailed.
But he saw right through me, I couldn't bare feeling pale.
He was so certain this was real, he swore it was a fairy tale.

I could've sworn I knew him from before.
He was a damaged one, the core of his heart was sore.
A normal girl like me would've been frightened, run away.
But there was something about him, something so beautiful that made me stay.

Everything happened so fast and slow at the same time.
Both our lives fell in place, within a perfect rhythmic chime.
My ultimate sense of logic and practicalness seemed to fade.
Nothing made sense anymore, my feelings towards him have officially outweighed.

And yet, I still feel so content, everything feels right.
Every day, every night, every conversation, every fight,
Every emotion, every action, and everything in between
Has made me fall in love with him, so fiercely keen.

My irrationality has gone thus far;
I want to keep my every memory of him locked up in a jar.
So that one day when we both grow old, by each other's side
I want him to know that my love for him is this wide.
I am ready for whatever comes our way
Because my feelings for him are here to stay.

buzzing toward insanity

2008-07-13T15:06:33Z

marta exiting exit; chicago

BUZZING TOWARD INSANITY

i can't really say
if i've ever been truly
upon truly happy. but i can say
that i've had a hell of a lot of fun,

and even manage to feel content most
of the time. but my life...something has
always eluded me.

as if somehow the gods have seen fit to bless me
with an abundance of the things i don't need
while holding back on the things i require.

i suppose this surplus of things
i don't need
has somehow kept me numb. to a degree.

and the ongoing effort to gain
the things i require...well,
it mostly leaves me exhausted. mentally
and physically.

it's at these moments
that i sit back,
breathe,
and let a feeling of contentment take over. it's much like
giving up,

but on a slightly different level.

i look around me:
the fastest runners seem to always win the race.
and the most beautiful girls always seem to have it solved.

for me,
i've never been the fastest. i've never been the most dashing.

but like i said,
i have enough of the other things that have always kept me buzzing along.

perhaps
there's no answer. perhaps
there are too many questions.

perhaps i'm becoming less numb
and inching my way towards insanity.

for now,
i'll sit back and watch the view. see
if that feeling of content
returns to me.

"let's go for drinks"
marta says.

and i watch her
as i desperately
try to keep it all together.

picandpoem @ 2008-07-05T18:11:00

2008-07-05T23:12:07Z

victor hotel; chicago

every
day
is halloween.

that is,
when it isn't
freaky
friday.

it's a strange and lovely world.

picandpoem @ 2008-07-05T00:21:00

2008-07-04T04:38:01Z

Photo by pierrotte_harlequin (on www.flickr.com)

Photo by pierrotte_harlequin (on www.flickr.com)
Photo by pierrotte_harlequin (on www.flickr.com)
Photo by pierrotte_harlequin (on www.flickr.com)

Oh China Doll, China Doll
What's life like on your pedestall?
Do the men look up and pull your skirt?
Do they wink and smile and try to flirt?
Do they compliment your perfect skin
Made of peach- hued, hand-made porcelain?
What's it like to feel so wanted?
To be so treasured and so flaunted?
I bet it's grand, up on that throne
To never have to feel alone.

Oh Rag Doll, Rag Doll
What kind of life is this pedestall?
How I long to walk on equal ground
And for once exist with no men around.
No one there to make kissy faces
Or handcuff me in silks and laces.
How I wish I could, my face expose
Trade these painted eyes and perfect nose.
If only I could be rid of this throne
I'm forever chained, till I'm but bone.

greenwich von meinem auge.

2008-06-28T21:34:04Z

greenwich, london, england, united kingdom. 17 june 2008.

quiet days make way for
lucid adventures
in quaint beauty
found in an artist's eye.
a lost neverneverland
discovered by few,
those who cross the white chalkline,
jump over the barrier to sea,
to endlessness.
dare to dream, whisper the winds.
the sun teases with
Siberian goose down clouds.
Make way,
the angle's just right.

no where else...
merely a photographer at play.

stress

2008-06-28T18:55:11Z

mr. blue, thinking it over; chicago

STRESS

decisions...decisions. should
i take a nap
or nibble on little cat foods. hmmmm.

i'll take a nap. it's far too much
to think about
right now.

picandpoem @ 2008-06-21T21:07:00

2008-06-22T02:09:40Z

~5800n; chicago

46.

...and it is good
when summer in chicago finally returns.

God knows,
we deserve it.

45.

2008-06-22T02:07:34Z

~5800n; chicago

45.

...and it is good
when summer in chicago finally returns.

God knows,
we deserve it.

picandpoem @ 2008-06-20T20:44:00

2008-06-21T01:45:33Z

balboa at columbus or so; chicago

TIME AWAY

like most of us
i get tired of being surrounded by people,
advertisement,
honking horns,
people asking for directions...

"do you know where michigan avenue is?"
is a popular one. or,
"how do i get to rush street?"

if had a dollar
for every time someone asked me something stupid,
honked at me,
or tried to sell me something i didn't care for,
i'd be a millionaire many times over.

so when i get sick of the ever-demanding world,
i like to take a bus, taxi-cab or subway to
some remote area of the city...perhaps walk till
my mind goes numb.

i start to notice how the city twists
and turns at certain angles. how it bends
or gives in
depending on the view...perhaps the way it resists
gravity and the screeching
of humans demanding more space.

when i finally make it back home,
the cats are glad to see me.

"glad you made it"
they say,
"we're hungry"

i must be their freak of some sort - ha ha...waiting on my comings
and goings. sometimes i wonder
if they know anything about that crazy world outside. or if they
even care.

then i come to my senses,
fill their little bowls with little cat foods and waters
and just stare out the window.

("if ignorance is bliss,
i wish to know nothing at all...")

i guess we all need each other from time to time.

but then again
it's nice to get away from it all. away from things familiar...the people
we love...and even the things we can't live without. because coming
back home to them
after you've been out in the world
is always comforting.

and taking time
to forget it all
is vital
in a mind that spins
faster than the universe outside.

picandpoem @ 2008-06-12T23:25:00

2008-06-13T04:25:48Z

art institue; chicago

WITHIN OUR WAYS

i owe a lot to all the people i've ever seen
and known.

i smell something
or hear something...or see something,

and the memory of them floods through me
like faucet suddenly turned on...cool,
then warm.

many of the people i've known are gone. either
we parted ways,
lost touch,
aged differently,

or simply turned left
when the other turned right.

some have even died...suddenly
and without much fanfare
or warning.

it's like that.

sometimes we realize
our time together is short. we enjoy it.

other times
we think our time together will last forever,

and we waste every fleeting moment. yawning lazily
as we put off emotion,
laughter,

or the tears
that bind.

it's not always easy to connect
in lovely ways...but when we do,
it's incredible. amazing.

magic.

something to consider: the solutions to what ache us
are always in the clues that drift
in the sunlight.

and to those who will always mean something to me,
here's to hoping you feel the same...

because blue used to be my favorite color,
and in many ways
it still is.

the strength of our lives
is in our memories. and the strength
of our memories
is in the way we live.

remember...

Yuppie Blues - the new english version

2008-06-12T19:23:35Z

Yuppie Blues - the new english version

Clip: http://de.youtube.com/watch?v=biHKuJ6mbzE
Text: http://www.yuppie-blues.de
Video: Charly Rauch

picandpoem @ 2008-06-10T23:30:00

2008-06-11T04:31:05Z

summer leaf; chicago

TIME REMAINING

and the final penalty for
living a life of evil
or honor,
is death
by the ever-unforgiving hands
of time.

inside,
there are shelves of books,
inherited china,
scrap albums, love poems
and unopened packages of toothpaste waiting for the brush...

outside,
there is the beauty of sunshine,
along with the tree tops
and flowers that sprout
almost effortlessly
as we spin our tangled webs.

and what the hell are we here for
other than to give names to the things we are...or the things we do.

butcher.
baker.
candlestick maker.

"...and i canNOT believe i have wasted my entire fucking life
with a loser like you"
i over heard a 60-something woman say to her 60-something man
at the coffee shop the other day.

in the ends,
time to live
becomes time remaining.

sad
but true.

"why must you be this way"
he whispered
as she said,
"shut up jim, i need a drink
whether you are coming or not."

it was 430pm
and nothing inside or outside
seemed to matter.

time was marching on. the truest
of truths we'll ever know.

look out the window
and you'll see what i mean...

because if you wait there long enough,

everything
comes falling down.

these are the little penalties
that
we've strangely come to live
and love.

picandpoem @ 2008-06-04T21:41:00

2008-06-05T02:41:50Z

somewhere under the sea; chicago

SOMEHOW BELOW OURSELVES

there was a sea. an underwater sea
that lived below the oceans,

but above the core that spun it all...

there was a time. an off center place
where seconds took hours
and hours folded in to themselves
like a thousand high rises trembling
and turning to dust...

there was a place. a lovely place
of hate,

which at most times
was love somehow spelled in reverse. the way
most of us live it
when we're not looking the other way.

and if i'm a man
and you're a woman
then somehow this must make sense. because under the sea
but just above the places that burn
is where we find ourselves. loving. and more sick
than peace.

i hear that man on the radio:
"...we're just two lost souls
swimming in a fish bowl...year after year"

and for some reason
we are still on the lookout
for heaven.

i'd say
amen,
but i'm not quite sure
what we'd do after that...

open
your eyes.

Missing Joe.

2008-06-04T00:53:15Z

My mistake
I miss calculated
I thought I had a force
big enough to be reckoned with
any heart ache ought to run away
and not play games with me
but my army is small
I have learned I am:
one girl in a big world
and i am cold without company
He's gone away for a while
He'll be back some months from now
fighting back the feeling
of loosing a part of me
wasn't easy as i would have liked it to be
All my strength went with him,
when he told me it was time for him to leave.

Slip Knot.

2008-05-20T01:42:37Z

Soon I will run my hands through your hair
Surprised that they do not turn into coal
Though even if they did
I would never stop
For I would rather burn with my love for you
Than sit solid and dry
Knitting in our empty polka dotted bed
Until morning comes
and my eyelids
heavy as the needles in my hands
metal sheet me
from the dreams I will have when your hair is finally within reach
of my pearling finger nots.

picandpoem @ 2008-05-14T20:56:00

2008-05-15T01:56:16Z

flatwater; chicago

WEDESDAY EVENING OF NOWHERE

hitting the bullseye, i've discovered,
is a lie. and climbing the walls
we've built around ourselves
might do better than standing behind them.

this is the way
we are...and for that matter,
it's always us,
standing at midnight
in the depths of love and hate - pretending
that one is the other...or that the other
is somehow better.

it's a mess.

we're not sure
which way is up,

but we always know the slippery ways down. in fact
we build those too,
so we'll always have an excuse
as to why we've failed.

and if you've ever tried to kiss someone's screaming lips,
you know why
we must never give up.

despite the walls
and the excuses
and the ways up
or down,

that never
but always

somehow satisfy.

picandpoem @ 2008-05-07T08:03:00

2008-05-07T07:04:01Z

(Courtesy http://www.flickr.com/photos/aligee/2354340300/)

In ways we have not dreamt we arrive here at our destination
tired with the dust of our worries and yet
glad to rest at least, for a little while.

I have seen here snippets of people living
in much the same way as they do everywhere else.

The kettle sings in the kitchen next door and children scream and laugh and
women comb their hair in bathroom mirrors and make eyes at men and sit with legs crossed and hope that they
look pretty.

Meanwhile I am drifting with eyes closed holding breaths because
the truth is cold and wet.

I have not travelled as far and as hard as this
to fail.

picandpoem @ 2008-05-05T00:52:00

2008-05-05T04:53:57Z

Dreamy dreary fires
that ignite the dying
passions in your eyes.
Redeeming all of your lies
Checking yourself out
of the trashy old motels
that held all of our memories
behind rotting dry walls
and the surrealist dream
Your sky falls to it's tattered knees.

I said, your sky, it is torn
i said your soul, it is worn.
Your eyes are indulging
in his dedicated whore.

Your mind is a blank
canvas begging for color,
for a hero to discover
the truth you always buried
deep inside your dirty heart
and all the lies you told from the start.
a muse for the king of dreams
a toy for a free spirited boy
Your sky is falling from grace
Your sky is losing it's sweet taste.

I said, your sky, it is torn
I said, your soul, it is worn.
Your heart indulges
in his dedicated whore.

Consumption, dysfunction
the clouds are blocking the sun
locking up your tongue
and sewing your mouth shut.
All the king's men fall down to the ground
All the king's girls are consumed by their frowns
And liquid grace pours from the clouds
I knew one day all my skies would tumble down.
Who knew I would eventually die for you
Cry to you, and become the king's only love fool.
Our vein's are cracking and falling apart at the seams
Our skies are no longer the loopholes in our dreams.

I knew your sky was torn
i knew your soul would feel worn
Your heart.
It.
Indulges.
In his whore.

Photo and poem by Me.

picandpoem @ 2008-05-04T12:53:00

2008-05-04T17:54:07Z

GHOSTS IN THE GRAVEYARD

when we were kids
we used to have two nighttime games:
"town tag", and a darker game called
"ghosts in the graveyard"
which was a more chilling game played on the golf course (we'd hop or go under the fence)
with flashlights and teams.

town tag was a pretty innocent version of hide and seek
which had us using the downtown center triangle as a safe zone,
and the surrounding shops, parking lots and gangways
as hiding spots.

ghosts in the graveyard was much more spooky,
with the potential for dramatic consequences.

because not only were we trying to scare each other,
there was always the mystery of the flashlight wielding night watchman
who could easily be mistaken for a friend in the moonlight. often,
i'd see someone walking with a flashlight in the distance
only to quietly wonder if it was matt molloy
or the security guard,
rumored to have one eye and a hook for a hand. someone once said that his wife had died
and since then
he wandered the golf course looking for her in the night - ha ha...kid
stories.

there were times i was really scared to my bones. there was the time,
i was centered near the 7th hole on the course,
and either tommy molloy or mike boland blew off an m-80
so loud it sent the birds leaping from their tree tops
and in to the night sky. immediately
i saw a flashlight running near the next hole. the explosion was followed
by an eery silence only cut by my footsteps below me
running for the fence. i could smell the smoke drifting in the breeze
as the flashlight drew closer.

"ghost in the graveyard! ghost in the graveyard!!" i screamed,
running. but the flashlight just seemed to come faster and faster.

i ran for the hole in the fence,
rolling under it as the wires scraped at my arms.

"get back here kid!"
i heard.

it wasn't mike boland,
that was for sure. tommy molloy either.

i made my way to naperville road
at top
top top speed. my lungs huffing.

i ran for coe road,
through the cagan's back yard,
hopping yard toys and bushes
like an antelope running for its life.

i finally made it to my yard,
up the back steps and in through the sliding door to the kitchen.

no one was awake.

and i kept the lights off as i quietly made my way to my room,
looking out the windows to see if anyone had followed me.

my heart was pounding so loudly
i was sure someone could hear it.

i closed my eyes tightly
and slipped in to my bed. my heart was still pounding
and somehow i could still smell that smoke in my nose.

i kept seeing that flashlight coming toward me
in my mind. time seemed to stand still
and i was waiting,
waiting,
waiting...

somehow i feel asleep
and the next morning when the phone rang
i was sure it was the police...or worse.

i listened to my mother answer the phone,
talk a while,
then hang up.

i closed my eyes tight again
as my heart began to pound again.

"breakfast!!!"
i heard her yell.

it was like a weight had been lifted off my chest.

i slowly made my way in to the dining room
where my mother was setting the table.

as i nibbled at my breakfast i decided
that
that was the last time i'd ever play with ghosts again.

real
or imagined.

another stop along the way

2008-05-03T17:53:38Z

granville stop, red line; chicago

ANOTHER STOP ALONG THE WAY

perhaps
we'll find each other out there. or perhaps
just ourselves.

it's all we can hope for
as we set the alarm clock each night,

waiting upon the next...

++

"Believe those who are seeking the truth. Doubt those who find it."
~Andre Gide

with regards to: kyssme

tron

2008-05-01T04:31:58Z

TRON

one of my favorite video games
growing up was this game called TRON. the game,
by today's standards,
was ancient in graphics and theme,
yet at the time,
when i sat down in front of the television to play,
i almost felt as if i'd been sucked in. literally. as if
i'd somehow become a part of the game. or somehow, the game
a part of me.

this may seem a bit strange by today's advanced standards
of video entertainment,
but sometimes when i'm walking through my days,

i swear
i'm back inside my television
fighting for dear life
as the glow of the screen
just leads the way...

life 6.2

2008-04-30T04:38:30Z

deanna; chicago

LIFE 6.2

there is something so terrifying
and so strange
and so lovely,

how life
changes.

things that seem to happen in the blink of an eye
were actually happening long before we realized
we were being pulled in.

just the other day i was running breathlessly. barefoot
under a summer sun. today
i am 7 lifetimes away from the innocence i held in my mind.

kisses, adversity,
and quietness have been the building blocks that
have brought me to today.

they are the same things that carry me to tomorrow.

next week i may be old
and gray. but in the end
it will all have been so strange. so terrifying. and
more lovely than anyone could have ever imagined.

good night.

Bird

2008-04-29T16:48:56Z

© Marni De Ambershay

Birds
01.27.2008

We parried duty like that for so long
flying to each other between summers,
we were tinder for the frost.

Then you made me bird-brained,
you posed like a peacock on display for canaries
and I was the cuckoo.

I parried duty like that for so long
soaring solo then dying winter tide,
I was the ballast for the fall.

Marni De Ambershay ©

Best Friends Forever

2008-04-27T02:17:02Z

(This is my second entry, and it kind of came out of nowhere. I hope you enjoy it! Any constructive criticism is welcome.)

(Taken by friend, edited by me.)

Best Friends Forever

Will I see you as just fragments,
Warped and rippled, hands entwined?
In the chest inside my mind, I hide
Your pictures, your faces, and they
Decay, gain mold, fall flat. Your voices
Echo in the darkness, in the hallowed
Caverns of my memories; different
Words resound, different letters
Burst like bubbles popped by pins.

When I depart, leave for worlds
Beyond imagination, attempt
To take this reality by storm
And shred the ties that hold
Me down, will you remember
Me? Will you see me in pieces,
The girl you somewhat knew?
If I return, and see you again,
Will you be the same? One boy,
Three girls, same hair, same eyes,
Same ways of thinking?

I hope that every facet of your personalities
Grow and mature, bloom and
Transform into lovely shards
Of glowing glass, forming vases,
Pottery of teenage emotion
Once bottled, then removed, then again.
Am I correct? Do not fall apart,
Do not unclasp those hands,
Do not break; do not completely change.

Best friends forever, fragments,
Warped and rippled, hands entwined.
May you never shatter.