Submissions by Jestalessa
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Someone that writes on & off, in a conglomoration of past, present, fiction, & non, often in one piece... as we do. [:
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Sep 2012 2:15pm
19th Sep 2012 2:15pm
Will
days like these
push themselves into my sleep space lately
days where
I finish the rounds, pick at my fingernails
contemplate painting them
the digger operator that I've known for three weeks
recommended a dark purple, blue tint shine:
the colour he wore when his nails were longer
before his wife chopped them
after railing him, again
for wearing hot 6 inch heels
in public
he laid land
planted the best of a million...
push themselves into my sleep space lately
days where
I finish the rounds, pick at my fingernails
contemplate painting them
the digger operator that I've known for three weeks
recommended a dark purple, blue tint shine:
the colour he wore when his nails were longer
before his wife chopped them
after railing him, again
for wearing hot 6 inch heels
in public
he laid land
planted the best of a million...
1781 reads
29 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
10th Sep 2012 10:44am
10th Sep 2012 10:44am
Empty: Journal Collection - Exhibit C
I thought when
I left the screen, the pen, the constant tidy/dinners/laundry/floors
I would be a new woman
I would write, get my gut back, new truth, new lies and a topographical view; but my news is another channel
for reruns of mirror image stories whose writer is[clearly] a jack-ass.
I can feel the precious words, poetry distilling 'round the stones into waste, falling out of my brain like a 5 lb. piss after sex
to swirl through underground tubes with all my other self-appeasing, self-releasing, badly scrawled journal...
I left the screen, the pen, the constant tidy/dinners/laundry/floors
I would be a new woman
I would write, get my gut back, new truth, new lies and a topographical view; but my news is another channel
for reruns of mirror image stories whose writer is[clearly] a jack-ass.
I can feel the precious words, poetry distilling 'round the stones into waste, falling out of my brain like a 5 lb. piss after sex
to swirl through underground tubes with all my other self-appeasing, self-releasing, badly scrawled journal...
1035 reads
LOVE POEM
Published
10th Sep 2012 10:15am
10th Sep 2012 10:15am
Lest we remember
i wouldn't kiss him
even though his hands feigned
they were acquainted with my waist
after his boring lesson
on the only three constellations i can find
even though
we left the crowd to smoke alone
and he slung
bad lines
over the old whiskey barrel next to me
easing in again
like i would stop talking
to notice
it was sealed even before
[in my conical periphery]
he huffed perfectly
gave walls the look that means
i am
definitely
winning
because despite the show of foolhardy confidence
he didn't...
even though his hands feigned
they were acquainted with my waist
after his boring lesson
on the only three constellations i can find
even though
we left the crowd to smoke alone
and he slung
bad lines
over the old whiskey barrel next to me
easing in again
like i would stop talking
to notice
it was sealed even before
[in my conical periphery]
he huffed perfectly
gave walls the look that means
i am
definitely
winning
because despite the show of foolhardy confidence
he didn't...
982 reads
20 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
13th Aug 2012 6:34pm
13th Aug 2012 6:34pm
The Princess & The Painter
The moon's cheeks flushed pink that night as she shrunk away
whispering our secret to stars who rolled their twinkles like they never cared.
Even the latch clicked quietly as I crept in, content to wander
but thunder-eyed under the hush of his soft wood curve and coloured world
the ocean blowing kisses past curtains that playfully threatened to offer me
to white street light interrogation.
Then he scooped me up from behind, breaking that fairytale hush like I hoped he would
[for fairytales do so suffocate the better lies of living.]
He...
whispering our secret to stars who rolled their twinkles like they never cared.
Even the latch clicked quietly as I crept in, content to wander
but thunder-eyed under the hush of his soft wood curve and coloured world
the ocean blowing kisses past curtains that playfully threatened to offer me
to white street light interrogation.
Then he scooped me up from behind, breaking that fairytale hush like I hoped he would
[for fairytales do so suffocate the better lies of living.]
He...
1403 reads
24 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
11th Aug 2012 7:01pm
11th Aug 2012 7:01pm
Messages from the subconscious: Choose
She doesn't know us well enough
or why she's here
this strange blur of a teenage girl
like a past
or projection
dragging her up our wind-whipped corridors
sun-glare off dust
whirling 'round our concrete floors
faces
and half-built plywood walls
half-open
twelve hundred feet up
She doesn't know yet
we are
her unfinished business
We feel questions in the slow scuff of shoes
the way she tries to squint
through...
or why she's here
this strange blur of a teenage girl
like a past
or projection
dragging her up our wind-whipped corridors
sun-glare off dust
whirling 'round our concrete floors
faces
and half-built plywood walls
half-open
twelve hundred feet up
She doesn't know yet
we are
her unfinished business
We feel questions in the slow scuff of shoes
the way she tries to squint
through...
981 reads
11 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
8th Aug 2012 2:52pm
8th Aug 2012 2:52pm
Keeping track II: These are for you
Two Years of Summed-up (and Dramatized) Male Friendships and Memories in Chronological Order
(For The Boys)
First came the stinging sweetheart prodigy
unattainable, nigh unswayable, with eyes
that lick the world down to humanity's bony fingertips
and fiction that lights a page from underneath -
Sharing similar taste in men and a lesbian
understanding, he'll always have my heart.
From first hit to the last time I saw my soul
there was a guilty lust at first write
turned a deeper connect than I had expected - ...
(For The Boys)
First came the stinging sweetheart prodigy
unattainable, nigh unswayable, with eyes
that lick the world down to humanity's bony fingertips
and fiction that lights a page from underneath -
Sharing similar taste in men and a lesbian
understanding, he'll always have my heart.
From first hit to the last time I saw my soul
there was a guilty lust at first write
turned a deeper connect than I had expected - ...
1110 reads
20 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
8th Jul 2012 2:40pm
8th Jul 2012 2:40pm
Said a Sagittarius to the waves
my dreams always insist
i kiss you goodbye
[bastard subconscious]
and i resent
it
but
it
[we]
were already filed and classified
by
the rotation of Saturn
where the sun shone
at which degrees the planets sat
at the hours of our births
my sun:
the yang archer had me hit
before i even met you
balanced my fire
with your roughly settled elements
set me
like
the stubborn fucking stars
that do not
move
for anyone
Saturn's...
i kiss you goodbye
[bastard subconscious]
and i resent
it
but
it
[we]
were already filed and classified
by
the rotation of Saturn
where the sun shone
at which degrees the planets sat
at the hours of our births
my sun:
the yang archer had me hit
before i even met you
balanced my fire
with your roughly settled elements
set me
like
the stubborn fucking stars
that do not
move
for anyone
Saturn's...
1706 reads
37 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
24th Jun 2012 1:36pm
24th Jun 2012 1:36pm
Dissection
You still miss her, I can tell.
Kills more than the dead sex
the routine bump bump[switch]cum
I out-of-body watch these days
when your mind is occupied otherwise.
Probably in her lush dark hair
and sun-soaked navel.
She was awfully gentle, wasn't she?
Sophisticated and aloof
halo hanging just a little sideways
and you held her like a china doll.
I loved that you could be so careful
[your ropes were taut
primed for my Swiss Army.]
But red roses and...
Kills more than the dead sex
the routine bump bump[switch]cum
I out-of-body watch these days
when your mind is occupied otherwise.
Probably in her lush dark hair
and sun-soaked navel.
She was awfully gentle, wasn't she?
Sophisticated and aloof
halo hanging just a little sideways
and you held her like a china doll.
I loved that you could be so careful
[your ropes were taut
primed for my Swiss Army.]
But red roses and...
1876 reads
37 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th Jun 2012 12:47pm
6th Jun 2012 12:47pm
Recurring
I've thought too much
about second helpings
and how they sit in the stomach
an uncomfortable weight
on digestion
I'll also say
before the consequence
of muffin-top hips
fits itself into my everyday jeans:
firsts were far worse
for the following drag of temptation
than never having known your lips
dry, full from sleep
[and better things]
sinking into mine
I've wondered
how long we would last
as this pulsing set
of water/moon magnetism...
about second helpings
and how they sit in the stomach
an uncomfortable weight
on digestion
I'll also say
before the consequence
of muffin-top hips
fits itself into my everyday jeans:
firsts were far worse
for the following drag of temptation
than never having known your lips
dry, full from sleep
[and better things]
sinking into mine
I've wondered
how long we would last
as this pulsing set
of water/moon magnetism...
1153 reads
29 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
29th May 2012 9:19pm
29th May 2012 9:19pm
Not working
These two seem to suck inspiration right from the air.
[Maybe they've been writing longer than I have]
but here they are, in front of me.
The fair haired girl looks up, then back down to her journal every so often;
her extremely handsome boyfriend does much the same.
I'm instantly intimidated.
They're prepared for anything, look like they've done this a hundred times before
in a hundred different places -
hiking boots and knapsacks, waterproofs and hoodies.
They're recording independence, thought, experience
where I just ramble into a...
[Maybe they've been writing longer than I have]
but here they are, in front of me.
The fair haired girl looks up, then back down to her journal every so often;
her extremely handsome boyfriend does much the same.
I'm instantly intimidated.
They're prepared for anything, look like they've done this a hundred times before
in a hundred different places -
hiking boots and knapsacks, waterproofs and hoodies.
They're recording independence, thought, experience
where I just ramble into a...
1104 reads
22 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
22nd May 2012 8:50pm
22nd May 2012 8:50pm
Whatever I think I know of men and love
(for the "How much you think you know a man" comp)
It would be easy to let these words slip softly
into the blood-swollen flesh folds
of a man's most primary
primitive psychology.
To hungrily spit-stroke the length of his ego
with naughtily submissive little upward glances
through doe-like eyelashes
weighted with pop-culture-magazine measures of mascara.
Sure, theoretically I'd have his cock covered:
locked down by letting out ...
It would be easy to let these words slip softly
into the blood-swollen flesh folds
of a man's most primary
primitive psychology.
To hungrily spit-stroke the length of his ego
with naughtily submissive little upward glances
through doe-like eyelashes
weighted with pop-culture-magazine measures of mascara.
Sure, theoretically I'd have his cock covered:
locked down by letting out ...
1557 reads
35 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
14th May 2012 10:07am
14th May 2012 10:07am
With a cherry on top
1569 reads
36 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Jestalessa
