irenmonkey's Featured RECords
with my mother.
she put shoes on me knowing full well that she didn't intend on letting me swim. i was still hopeful in my poorly fit bikini.
looking back, i realize that she never really cared about what i wanted...because 25 years later, i still don't know how to swim.
she put shoes on me knowing full well that she didn't intend on letting me swim. i was still hopeful in my poorly fit bikini.
looking back, i realize that she never really cared about what i wanted...because 25 years later, i still don't know how to swim.
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//written on November 21, 2007. i was in the college library while studying for finals with the boy who inspired it. i was stuck in a relationship with him that felt stagnant and revolved around our carnal concerns. he always said "you can't buy a car without test driving it" in reference to first sleeping with someone before committing to them. this went on for years. what i thought was love, was only his lust for my body. to this day, he still argues that he cared for me.// Have you ever noticed those men that name their cars? Camille, Bertha, Alice, Diane, Baby Girl… All names of women. A man once told me that you can’t buy a car without test driving it… You gotta see how she rides How she handles his last minute decisions (to make that wide turn) How she purrs… You gotta check out her headlights… Her interior… How fast she can go on that speedometer… And most of all… How if you strip her down, Would she still be a beauty? No one ever thinks about maintenance… After all those drives… After all those burnouts… After all those races… Who pays for it? Would he pay for it? Or would she be stuck on the newspaper ads Waiting for another Man to see her as a treasure Despite the trash that he’s left of her… Is he a buyer? Or just another One of those freeloaders That sweet-talk their way just to test her…out? Luxury… Dependable… Affordable… They’re all the same. Made of the same parts… With all the same hearts… A man once told me that you can’t buy a car without test driving it… Well, for our sake, they better do some background checks. |
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Dear Men, Thank you for constantly playing with the hearts of women. Thank you for crushing their confidence and leaving them to frantically find every fragment left of their spirit. I thank you for this because if you didn't, there would be no lyrics... no stanzas... no masterpieces... no films. There would be no ART So for that I thank you. |
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//i couldn't choose among them. then again, this is a collab so maybe someone else will choose for me.// i write because nobody would listen. he knew i couldn't replace him. where did all my money go? i'm still not enough for them. i'm sorry. i don't trust you. timing's everything, but i'm always late. |
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//given all the hype with 2012...death could be a lot sooner than we think. we can''t really help but think about what you want to do before life ends. mine are pretty random and in no particular order.// 1) publish a book that actually sells a copy to someone that's NOT a family member or a close friend 2) go on an African Safari -- like a super legit one that involves khaki shorts, hiking boots, and a DSLR camera. 3) eat a sandwich on the Eiffel Tower at 530pm on a cloudy day. perfect writing weather. 4) go to my future child's soccer game, curse out the referee, get kicked out of the game, and drop by ChickFilA afterwards so my kid knows that win or lose, i'm still by his/her side. 5) fall in love with the right guy at the right time and REALLY live happily ever after --- is that too farfetched? |
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//this collab gives me a sense of nostalgia because my best friends and i used to write each other in haikus all the time when we were too busy to see each other; it made us feel like we were at least making a little bit of an effort for some interaction. i miss and love them dearly. photo above by: Matt.//
Entitled: "alcoholics."
i wanna get drunk
it's been a really bad week
this round is on me
Entitled: "alcoholics."
i wanna get drunk
it's been a really bad week
this round is on me
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//the aftermath.// Entitled: "frivolous." i drank my feelings. it didn't really help much... now i'm just dizzy. |
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//final draft finished on December 22, 2008. this poem came to be from dealing with the same situation too many times over in my life. i could explain the situation...but it's become so redundant that i'd rather share links that where i have described them with utmost clarity. http://tumblr.com/xfrclpqsw http://tumblr.com/xfrctr83z http://tumblr.com/xfrd1unuv and if you're wondering, i'm still dealing with the same demons now. i'd love to hear about anyone else who relates. i hope i'm not alone.// so this is my wall... my push against it run against it don't leave me hanging against it wall. my creep against it weep against it never catch me dream against it wall... and it's hard to tear down. when it does, though... it's a demolition. coz you're like that plant with the vines that grow over walls... as hard and sturdy as my foundation... you still had room to grow and cover me. and i'm stuck trying to fight it... you didn't even force it... but instead took your time to work it... time that i needed to tear down my wall myself. time that allows your vines to make my wall look less large... less hard...less sturdy. while i try to rip your vines off purposely... but you're so consistent... so seemingly different... while i try to be tough, my heart won't listen... call me rebound. your girl you hit up when "the one" is not in town. miss keeps-you-happy-though-still-not-good-enough now... the "not your girl," but has to be faithful anyhow. oh well, my name is stranded. your ordinary leave-me-breathless-after-sleeping-in-the-same-bed. miss standard... good lay who deals with being branded... as the token "just friend" who doesn't expect anything in return. so i'll trade you... i really don't have much, but i'll be strong for you... be patient for you... to sacrificially wait for you... until she leaves your heart and i can finally stop standing... until you fall apart and let me catch your landing... coz my legs have started to hurt from standing here... in this small corner you call mine... i don't really mind... because i'm not behind anyone else, but her... i knock, but i know you won't answer... because she's back again like a yoyo that never ends... and once more i must stand to give her the seat, and just be a good friend... when will this cycle end? of tearing my wall down to only be hurt again... by anyone who claims to be uncommon. i said it was a demolition... now, i start from scratch and start building... pretend that this time around didn't leave my heart bleeding... slap on a smile and begin misleading... to play dumb and stop believing. so dumb...so mistaken. this is the story of my life... as the girl right after the badass girlfriend. |
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