I felt your honeyed promises
spontaneously combust
in my cerebellum.
You teased
manipulated
and pulsated
my every thought
and twisted my train-
I never asked for the ticking
time bomb
of disappointment and defeat,
but they lurked;
Hidden by wrinkles of brain matter
and tucked in with papyrus paper,
I forgot about the tattoo of
our distorted illusions of grandeur.
Our mark of symbolism.
I got it as a reminder
to take your words
and leave them
at my front door.
Jesus talked to me
He said, "Knock on my door
and I will answer."
So I walked down the street of
perfectly plush abodes with
ivory picket fences withholding
equally even ivory lawns until
I found his shoddily made shack
at the end of the sidewalk.
Weeds wrecked the ravaged sod,
Sap slicked the trunk of the chopped cedar
[Whose life was cut short by a rusted cleaver,]
The roots gouged the grout of the pathway,
Paint peeling on the patched palisade,
Broken bottles be-cluttered the non-victorious veranda
and they crunched under my heel as I
approached the camel colored cardboard door.
I knocked,
*knock*
Beware the ides of July
In which all my curses
lie.
To hide and
bide slowly until
you arrive brings
a tear to my
eye.
What sort of a chide
could bring out
my tongue-
tied implied
affectionate afflictions,
making me your
war bride.
My silhouette set
still in your
Aegean
lantern slide.
Oh-
what I would give
for the ides of March
and hold my guileful
renegade at arm's length
to be my
honey guide.
Oh to be young
and in love
forever
and
always
is my greatest wish.
For I would never have to
crumble before
the cold hand of
heartbreak
and glue
myself back together
with pieces of
papyrus paper.
To have the cool
kiss
of Spring
eternally encrusted
on my nude lips
leaves a gold
dust on my tongue
and gives me pause-
For I can taste
the naked nicotine
of Summer's
sex
and
alluring sister
Autumn.
I know not of
the diamond studded
subpoena of Winter;
but-
rather -
I take in my time
and nurse
my eyes
from the darling
buds of May.
My ego had become
something like concrete.
Dull, thick, stony,
the harsh ending to a
fall.
The midsummer rains came
to wash away all
my poltergeists and prostitutes
that had polluted my mind.
My ego had become
like a persian cat.
Drenched, angry, withdrawn,
my cracks showing through
the veins in my eyes.
All sorts of insects lived in there,
centipedes, pill bugs, ants.
Exposing my core of humanity.
You kicked dirt in my crevices
so I wouldn't cause anyone to trip.
I became an unnoticeable walkway.
You planted a small
red flower in my cracks,
and I felt noticed.
Some called it a weed,
but I flaunted my flair.
I felt your honeyed promises
spontaneously combust
in my cerebellum.
You teased
manipulated
and pulsated
my every thought
and twisted my train-
I never asked for the ticking
time bomb
of disappointment and defeat,
but they lurked;
Hidden by wrinkles of brain matter
and tucked in with papyrus paper,
I forgot about the tattoo of
our distorted illusions of grandeur.
Our mark of symbolism.
I got it as a reminder
to take your words
and leave them
at my front door.
Jesus talked to me
He said, "Knock on my door
and I will answer."
So I walked down the street of
perfectly plush abodes with
ivory picket fences withholding
equally even ivory lawns until
I found his shoddily made shack
at the end of the sidewalk.
Weeds wrecked the ravaged sod,
Sap slicked the trunk of the chopped cedar
[Whose life was cut short by a rusted cleaver,]
The roots gouged the grout of the pathway,
Paint peeling on the patched palisade,
Broken bottles be-cluttered the non-victorious veranda
and they crunched under my heel as I
approached the camel colored cardboard door.
I knocked,
*knock*
Beware the ides of July
In which all my curses
lie.
To hide and
bide slowly until
you arrive brings
a tear to my
eye.
What sort of a chide
could bring out
my tongue-
tied implied
affectionate afflictions,
making me your
war bride.
My silhouette set
still in your
Aegean
lantern slide.
Oh-
what I would give
for the ides of March
and hold my guileful
renegade at arm's length
to be my
honey guide.
Oh to be young
and in love
forever
and
always
is my greatest wish.
For I would never have to
crumble before
the cold hand of
heartbreak
and glue
myself back together
with pieces of
papyrus paper.
To have the cool
kiss
of Spring
eternally encrusted
on my nude lips
leaves a gold
dust on my tongue
and gives me pause-
For I can taste
the naked nicotine
of Summer's
sex
and
alluring sister
Autumn.
I know not of
the diamond studded
subpoena of Winter;
but-
rather -
I take in my time
and nurse
my eyes
from the darling
buds of May.
My ego had become
something like concrete.
Dull, thick, stony,
the harsh ending to a
fall.
The midsummer rains came
to wash away all
my poltergeists and prostitutes
that had polluted my mind.
My ego had become
like a persian cat.
Drenched, angry, withdrawn,
my cracks showing through
the veins in my eyes.
All sorts of insects lived in there,
centipedes, pill bugs, ants.
Exposing my core of humanity.
You kicked dirt in my crevices
so I wouldn't cause anyone to trip.
I became an unnoticeable walkway.
You planted a small
red flower in my cracks,
and I felt noticed.
Some called it a weed,
but I flaunted my flair.
Alice X. Z. - Living Rainbow Taking Flight by techgnotic, journal
Alice X. Z. - Living Rainbow Taking Flight
Living Rainbow Taking Flight
.techgnotic (https://www.deviantart.com/techgnotic)
by techgnotic (https://www.deviantart.com/techgnotic)
The vibrant digital paintings of alicexz (https://www.deviantart.com/alicexz) are fiery, emotional, and incredibly memorable.
The colors of her creations (mostly portraits of popular TV and Film characters) are unusually vibrant, which is remarkable considering how layered they appear to be. It’s sort of like what manga characters might look like if painted by one of the Dutch Masters. And this artist exhibits just the right amount of quirkiness to leave us wanting to know more: she has a penchant for painting redheads. But, then of course, there’s a lot of red and golden fire burnin