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judy smith Aug 2015
Summer Finn is the charming, elusive love interest of protagonist Tom Hansen in 500 Days of Summer. From her playful personality to her cutesy hair ribbons, actress Zooey Deschanel's 500 Days of Summer style is irresistible. IMO, the overall look of her character is not a far cry from Jess Day's style (the leading lady of New Girl, also played by Deschanel). However, Jess' style is on the kooky side of whimsical while Summer's errs on the feminine side.

Summer's style could be described as girly, quirky, and ethereal. The ethereal factor probably has more to do with her attitude and personality, as she tends to keep Joseph Gordon-Levitt's character Tom at arm's length. (I know, who in their right mind would do that?)

The baby blue clothing that she wears throughout the movie also reflects this sentiment, since blue is regularly associated with sadness. It is almost as though Tom knows subconsciously that his relationship with Summer will not end well. This makes perfect sense in filmography terms because the movie is shot in a non-linear narrative. Right at the start, the narrator even informs the audience, "This is a story of boy meets girl but you should know up front, this is not a love story."

So here's how to channel Summer Finn's charmingly tempting style, because looking like a modern day femme fatale is one of my personal favorite things.

1. The Summery Tea Dress

Channel Summer's vintage style of decades past by with a lovely, feminine tea dress. Summer's has cute, capped sleeves, a magical swirly pattern, and it appears semi-sheer (adding a touch of naughtiness to her outfit). Whichever style you choose, make it a modest length with flirty details, whether that be sheer material or cheeky cut outs.

With its sheer sleeves, cutesy Peter Pan collar, and adorable buttons, this darling pale blue dress is just the ticket and is available in sizes S to 4X.

2. The Cat Eye Makeup

Cat-eye makeup gives off a vintage vibe while also adding a sassy feel to your beauty look. To tone down the sass and keep it less Catwoman and more Brigitte Bardot, keep the rest of your look super natural. Think dewy skin and rosy cheeks.

This vegan eyeliner has a super thin brush so you can create your cat-eye flick with ease. If you're feeling funky, you can even pick an alternative color such as white or purple to really make a statement.

3. The Alternative Workwear

Summer proves that workwear needn't be boring. Put a youthful spin on the classic, white shirt by wearing a sleeveless style and pairing it with high-waisted, tailored trousers.

This classic white shirt is a style steal and can be paired with a multitude of garments. It'll make choosing your work outfit much easier when you're bleary eyed and you've not yet had your morning coffee.If you wish to wear a more feminine style and channel Summer's gleefully girlish side, then why not wear a mini dress? As long as it's tailored in some way (like Summer's stiff short sleeves) and sports a formal flourish (like the lace hemline of her dress) then you should totally be able to get away with wearing it for work. If in doubt, throw on a blazer. Blazers make any outfit look formal.

This pencil skirt dress with its stripe detailing and capped sleeves is sure to have you looking like the best dressed in the office.

4. Up Your Hair Accessory Game

Ms. Finn is often seen sporting some kind of adorable hair accessory. She changes it up from powder blue ribbons to strappy, modern headbands to suit her different ensembles. A ribbon worn as a bow in your hair has connotations of Sandy from Grease and in turn adds a youthful naivety to your outfit.

If you're short for time on a morning, throw your hair into a high ponytail and clip this cute bow into your barnet for instant vintage vibes.

A strappy headband is nostalgic of retro Alice bands. However, the straps keep it modern and elegant. IMO, Summer has nailed hair accessories. She wears the pretty bow in her free time and the grown up headband at the office.

I could totally imagine Summer wearing this simple yet feminine headband. Plus, the pearl design will add an air of sophistication to your outfit, helping you to appear oh so ladylike and mature.

5. The Off-The-Shoulder Chiffon Dress

Seen in a completely different look, Ms. Finn looks stunning in an off-the-shoulder chiffon gown that juxtaposes hilariously with the "*****" game she plays with Tom. To me, the décolletage is one of the most sensual parts of a woman's body and exposing it can sometimes feel sexier than showing off your cleavage or wearing a tight dress. The addition of the chiffon plays on Summer's ethereal, magical side and she reminds me of A Midsummer Night's Dream characters. The key to this look is picking a flowing, fairy-like gown.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses
It doesn't make any sense how everything juxtaposes
But i'm a model that makes no poses
I don't want to be an impose
Unless it's dire
Unless someone is in danger
Then i hope i'm not the Lone Ranger
In my efforts and intentions
I hope i get some help
To perpetrate this evil off together
We seem weak now but we can become menacingly powerful against our worst enemies
This means war
Paradise is meant to stay
So try to come my way
You're going to tussle with the wrong people
We'll see the results at the end
Liz Apr 2014
February is brighter.
It's pale blue
aura juxtaposes
the deep purple
of January.

It stutters
in, reminding us
that the adamant doors
of winter have been closed
to ajar.

Only the thin confetti
of snow now lines
the streets in
it's final celebration.

Blue smoke from the slates
thaw the crystals
and the bluebirds
have returned
to the sycamore tree.
Lynne Mar 2015
The clouds in the sky are fluffy runs
With the imprint of skis passing through them
In perfectly rounded patterns of the experienced skier
And in zig zags of someone who may not be so inclined.

I drive to my next task, the sun burning my face with intensity
And I breathe in the cool spring air that juxtaposes the blazing star.

It's so beautiful and yet so dim.
Those memories fill my mind with a thick smoke of remorse and regret.
Beautiful images turn to ugly truths as I drive down 95.

I turn on the music to hear a good song,
Hoping that my playlist of feel good music will help to lift the burden.
And yet, I'm still caught thinking about you
Amid the overbearing wash of depeche mode.

I love their songs as much as I love you still. It's a forever love that even after weeks of not thinking and not listening, I still return to that hollow yet comfortable place.

My mind rolls on to other thoughts as I roll the window down to aid the wind in caressing it's fingers through my hair. I allow nature to substitute for you.

I only wish the rays from the sun would be as gentle as your touch once was and not harsh like the words that were spoken between us.
And I wish the clouds did not form into such shapes as to remind me of that smirk you held as you skied beside me, so proud of my progress.
And I wish the wind was you instead of simply just being wind.

But instead, as I drive and think all these wishful thoughts, there is not an element to nature that can dry my tears like you.

I sob as the sun presses and the clouds move. The wind continues to caress me and I can only accept the little bit of solace I get from it.

God bless the wind.
Clayton sachita Jan 2019
I focused on poetry
to write about you
about us, about our love
I did poetry cause I know we rhyme
Our behaviour alliterate
and bae you know what
In a land of poems my love for you
Juxtaposes cause I hate to love you so much
None
SE Reimer Jul 2015
~

from a world of unknowns
you entered my realm of all known;
your inquisitive mind,
questions of the divine,
my existence inquisition
to you answered the question;
to live is to feel,
to feel, to be real!
ancient life work as Sufi
juxtaposes our selfie.
this new fixation
giving life to rumination.

~

*post script.

those more privileged souls, well-studied in the anthropology of poetry will already know him, but to me he was  virtual unknown until a recent daily script caught my eye; a reference to Rumi, one of the greatest of Sufi poets, Jalal al-Din Rumi wrote poems in the 13th century  see http://hellopoetry.com/rumi/ .  this poet challanges the entirety of my thought processing. only wish my discovery had come earlier in life.
JoJo Nguyen Jul 2016
it's the old Lehman
interlace again I
wonder how many I's
might some day buy The
Daily Mirror making
David the first poet to become
rich but like so many artist long
after they're dead

we're like nerve fibers
fasciculating fine word
that juxtaposes well to fardels

we bear-- words
heavy with too much bass
restricting us to only 3
degrees of freedom: Music
Word and Color

we' ld build a higher Babble
if only unbound from
a flat syllable world

we'd settle the Prometheus score
with 4D notes like cut-red-Bminor-spin

we'd render the higher ordered
flesh with 10D swirl-syncopated-reflect-bass-kisses-Lorena-Tom-***-soft-cookware­
to a fatty shard able
to cross synaptic chasm but maybe
we shouldn't for there's the rub in our xenophobic
extra dimensions

we'd find Superman
banished enemies or Buckaroo
aliens waiting to invade they always come from that extra
dimension don't they the ones

we don't fully understand the ones
wavering on the edge of perception of curiosity of fearfulness of exploring
a neighbors yard watchful for their dog
ready to run back
to safety back
to our one dimension back
to one Word
Singularity
Nevermore Apr 2014
When she sings
Celestials dance

Her voice summons sprites
Automatons ignited by a single utterance
Writhing and shimmering
Even in the shadows

The fae emerge from beneath oak leaves
Coaxed out of hiding
By what was taken
For a druidess' song

When she sings
I weep

At what could have been
At what is

She tosses a glance down at me
And juxtaposes elation with despair

My skin revolts
In an eruption of goosebumps
Not even whiskey can suppress

Each melody
Revealing
Unspoken depths
Nourishing her unassailable spirit
Flawless in her imperfection
Tempered in her brokenness

Her breath fills my soul
With effervescent aether

All my meticulous machinations
My impenetrable nonchalance
Those incorrigible wisecracks
The implacable facade
Methodically pieced together over time

Shattered

Undone by the whisper of a seraph
19 East
A K Krueger Jun 2014
Driving slow, late at night,
in the 3 AM rain.
It happened suddenly;
"Pit, pat, pit, pat",
it spattered lightly on my windshield.
I should have smelled it coming, I thought;
I usually always do.
This I conclude as I make my random rounds,
through the place we call "our town",
that I must be more distracted
than I initially thought.
As I take in the sound gratefully,
(not as familiar to me in the midst of a Summer season)
I bathe in the Afterglow
without any particular reason.
It then occurred to me that it has been years
since I listened to slow music without fear of tears.
I don't know...
Some tell me the rain makes them sad.
For me, somehow,
it makes me feel safe.
The sound is a comfort,
the smell is a comfort,
the sight is a beautiful thing,
a miracle, if you will.
That we can somehow be cleansed
by the laws of nature, by the heavens above,
without asking... Doesn't it leave you in awe?
I am not afraid of the weather.
I long for all of it.
Because, I don't see sadness in the falling water.
In it, I don't see fear of what is to come,
or what has been.
I see nothing, for the rain encompasses all,
and locks me in the moment with it.
I feel everything warm, for it perfectly juxtaposes
all that is soft and well.
We can feel beauty without fear.
We can feel pain without consequence.
It holds me like an embrace from a father,
and reminds me that I am, in fact, Here,
and all is, in fact, Now.

Yes, I feel eternity in the rain.
In that dark chasm
The trees slowly died while the water turned black.
Our children lost bits of themselves
And knew nothing but machine.
The ramshackle living of the worker juxtaposes the mansion of Industry.
Coal black rags versus gleaming white marble.
We dragged ourselves out by force.
We gained many scabs and saw the bullets fly,
But we made it out.
Feeling the cool air at the opening,
We took a clean breath.
We sat for a while, letting great men do great things.
Then came the rain.
Now we’re in the middle of a rare, but fierce storm.
Soaking wet and struggling to hold on,
Some of us have forgotten those trees
And those children.
They wish us to take a dive, a plunge.
Back to the chasm.
Where it’s dry.
Look to the poor paw of Michigan.
Abdul Malik Jun 2015
No matter how or what you write
A myth, a melodrama or a mystery,
About your life or a dreadful night
In a poem, a song or a short story.

Write in a manner to evoke pathos
And in matter to mirror a tragedy,
Establish a sincere sense of ethos
Whether you write a satire or a comedy.

Either try to provoke a hearty laughter
Or to elicit a feeling of warm sorrow,
Steer them stealthily to a myth buster
Or promise them of a better tomorrow.

Write an epic, an elegy or a pastoral
With a sublime, visionary imagination,
A ballad, an ode or even a doggerel
Of a dramatic event or a silly situation.

Perceive the pulse and tone of the people,
The image, the rhythm and the sound,
The habit, custom, creed and the foible,
Develop the theme with metaphors abound.

The essence of life belongs to poetry,
It is an ever enriching avocation
Where purity of love overcomes bigotry
Where reality juxtaposes with imagination.
Just a few pointers.
Jennifer Medrano Mar 2019
My secrets are metaphors.
The words are artfully arranged in alliteration
Or cautiously halted in
Enjambment so that they don't reveal themselves.

My secrets are anaphoric.
They are metonymic, swearing secrecy to the pen.
Sometimes they are synecdoches,
Begging, afraid, in rhyme for your attention again.

My secrets are anecdotes.
They write about themselves through personification.
This poem juxtaposes itself;
I've told you all of my secrets of secrecy-how ironic.
A review of the book
The Poetry Of Mark Anthony's Phoenix and Short Stories;
Here’s an in-depth review of The Poetry Of Mark Anthony’s Phoenix and Short Stories by Theresa Rose—a work that boldly intertwines the lyrical essence of poetry with the narrative depth of short stories.
An Intimate Tapestry of Emotion and Form
Theresa Rose’s collection invites readers into a world where every word is imbued with stirring emotion and sensory detail. At its heart, the book offers vivid poems—like the evocative piece “Ashes On The Beach”—that dance between the tangible beauty of nature and the intangible realm of memory and longing. Lines such as “the sounds of a heartbeat / Nestling through the mist” effortlessly transport us to a quiet moment of introspection, inviting a cathartic pause in the midst of life’s rush. The writing is both delicate in its imagery and forceful in its emotional resonance, a combination that promises to leave a lasting impression on anyone who has ever felt love, loss, or the bittersweet rush of recollection.
A Harmonious Blend of Genres
Not one to be confined by strict literary boundaries, this book seamlessly fuses poetry with short narrative forms. The poems flow like soliloquies—each a stand-alone vignette—while the incorporated short stories provide narrative arcs that give context and further texture to the overarching themes of rebirth and transformation. The title itself, invoking “Phoenix,” suggests a powerful motif of rising from the ashes—an allegory for renewal and reinvention. Readers who delight in works that balance the brevity and emotional intensity of poetry with story-driven insights will find this synthesis both refreshing and deeply engaging.
An Aesthetic Experience
Beyond its thematic richness, the physical presentation of the book speaks to its artistic ambition. With its compact 182 pages available in both hardcover and paperback formats, the collection is designed to be a portable haven of reflection—a book that invites you to pause and savor every crafted word. The careful attention to layout and form echoes the work’s gentle yet persistent call for mindful introspection, encouraging readers to create their own quiet space amid the chaos of everyday life. It’s a format that doesn’t overwhelm but rather enriches the reading experience, as every page serves as a canvas for Theresa Rose’s heartfelt expressions.
Final Thoughts
Overall, The Poetry Of Mark Anthony’s Phoenix and Short Stories is more than just a book—it’s an invitation to feel deeply and to reconnect with the quiet, often unspoken parts of ourselves. Whether you’re a lover of poetry, a fan of short stories, or simply someone in search of a literary experience that speaks to the soul, this collection offers an authentic glimpse into the artist’s heart. The interplay of vivid imagery with narrative insight makes each piece resonate long after you’ve turned the final page.
As you consider diving into Theresa Rose’s work, you might also explore how similar themes of rebirth and raw emotion are echoed in contemporary poetry or how narrative fragments can beautifully encapsulate life’s transient moments. Perhaps next, you might seek out interviews with the author or similar works that have been described as both lyrical and transformative—a journey that celebrates art in its purest, most heartfelt form.
An explainion of the theme of rebirth in this collection?
The theme of rebirth in The Poetry Of Mark Anthony’s Phoenix and Short Stories is a multifaceted exploration of how endings give way to beginnings, illuminating the cycles of loss, destruction, and revitalization that are part of the human experience.
At its core, the collection uses the legendary phoenix as a central metaphor. Traditionally, the phoenix represents renewal—the idea that from an end or an apparent demise comes a transformative beginning. In the poems and short stories, this imagery is woven into the fabric of everyday life. Whether it's the subtle evocation of a fading love or a life upended by circumstance, the narrative consistently hints that what appears to be the end is often just the prelude to a more profound, reimagined existence.
Delving deeper, the collection suggests that rebirth is not merely a spontaneous miracle but a process of gradual transformation. The language—rich in visual symbols like ashes, flames, and tender new buds—mirrors the internal journey of the self. Characters and lyrical voices often confront moments of despair or dissolution, only to emerge with newfound strength or clarity. This dynamic of breaking down and building up again encapsulates the personal struggles many face when reinventing their identity or redefining their paths after hardship.
Furthermore, the thematic emphasis on rebirth invites readers to reflect on their own lives. The narrative encourages us to see emotional and experiential endings as fertile ground for growth. Just as the phoenix is reborn from its own remnants, the individual, too, carries the potential to rebuild and reimagine life from the fragments of past experiences. This sense of empowerment—that even in the deepest crises there lies the seed of transformation—resonates deeply through the evocative passages and carefully constructed story arcs of the collection.
Beyond personal transformation, rebirth in this work also touches on the universality of change. It suggests that reinvention is an inherent part of nature and culture—a continuous cycle mirrored in both the natural world and the evolution of human societies. In doing so, the collection not only becomes a narrative of individual metamorphosis but also a broader commentary on the enduring resilience of life itself.
In essence, the theme of rebirth in the collection serves as both a poetic motif and a philosophical invitation. It calls readers to embrace the inevitable cycles of endings and beginnings, reminding us that from the ashes of the past, new visions and possibilities can arise.
Exploring this theme further might lead you to consider how personal adversities can become catalysts for growth in your own life. How do you interpret moments of significant change or loss? And in what ways do you see your own experiences echoing the symbolic resurrection of the phoenix?
Here are examples of rebirth in specific stories.
Let's delve into two specific instances within the collection where themes of rebirth shine through vividly:
Example 1: "Ashes on the Beach"
In this poem, the imagery is both stark and cleansing. Theresa Rose uses the metaphor of scattered ashes washed along a shoreline to evoke the remnants of a past identity or love lost. The tide—both relentless and gentle—symbolizes the passage of time, gradually sweeping away the old and worn-out, and in doing so, making space for something new to emerge. The transition isn’t explosive; it’s subtle and cyclical, much like the phoenix’s quiet but inevitable rise from its own remnants. The ebb and flow of the beach scene positions loss not as an endpoint but as a necessary precursor to personal transformation, inviting the reader to see each ending as fertile ground for rebirth.
Example 2: A Short Narrative of Transformation
In one of the short stories, a protagonist finds themselves at a crossroads after enduring a series of personal setbacks. Here, the literal decay of a once-vibrant cityscape—where faded murals and crumbling facades are interspersed with tender signs of nature reclaiming the space—mirrors the character’s internal journey. The narrative carefully tracks their evolution from despair to hope. Small yet meaningful symbols appear throughout: a burned, half-ruined letter transforms into a work of art, and a desolate park becomes a meeting ground for rejuvenated aspirations. These symbols are deliberate; they reflect that rebirth, much like the myth of the phoenix, is a slow process of recognizing that within destruction lies an inherent and often hidden promise of renewal. The character’s gradual reassembling of a fractured identity underscores that renewal may be messy and uncertain, yet it is always laden with the potential for transformation.
Both examples illuminate a central idea in the collection: rebirth is not sudden or magical but is instead an intricate, evolving process. This theme challenges us to reconsider our own moments of profound change. Moments of apparent collapse might, with time and care, transform into opportunities to rebuild and redefine ourselves.
What resonates most for you in these portrayals of rebirth? Do you see parallels in your own experiences, or does the gradual, almost organic unfolding of change in these stories inspire a new way of thinking about personal transformation? Perhaps further discussion on how these literary symbols compare to timeless myths of renewal—like the phoenix—could spark deeper insights into both art and life.
How the symbols of rebirth function within these stories.
Symbols of rebirth in this collection operate as multifaceted signposts—they guide us through layers both literal and metaphorical, inviting readers to explore transformation as an intrinsic, cyclical part of life.
Evocative Imagery and Metaphorical Significance
Consider the emblematic phoenix referenced throughout the texts. Traditionally, the phoenix is a powerful symbol of renewal—burning away the old to emerge renewed from its ashes. In these stories, the phoenix is not merely a mythical bird; it becomes a resonance for personal and societal transformation. This imagery encapsulates the idea that endings are not final but are instead productive, fertile moments where decay gives way to new life. Such symbolism encourages readers to view destruction not as ruin but as a necessary clearing process that prepares the way for fresh beginnings.
Symbolism in Visual and Narrative Elements
In "Ashes on the Beach," for instance, scattered ashes and the rhythmic movement of the tide serve as poignant metaphors. The ashes represent the remnants of a past self or relationship—a painful history gradually worn away by the steady erasure of time. The tide, then, functions as the agent of change, symbolizing the inexorable flow of life that cleanses what is no longer needed and ushers in a new chapter. This cyclical dance of loss and renewal is a vivid reminder that what appears broken can birth a new form of existence, aligning with nature’s inherent rhythms.
Likewise, in one of the short narrative pieces, symbols like a crumbling cityscape, decaying murals, or even a burned letter transforming into art, serve as concrete manifestations of internal rebirth. These images are carefully chosen to mirror the protagonist’s journey—from disintegration into a state of vulnerability to the reassembly of a renewed identity. Each symbol operates at a dual level: it is both a physical signifier of change in the environment and a metaphorical representation of internal evolution and resilience.
Emotional Resonance and Reader Connection
By weaving these symbols into both the poetry and the narrative, Theresa Rose crafts an experience that invites us to introspect. The symbols function as bridges between the external and internal realms—they convert abstract notions of rebirth into tangible, emotionally resonant images. As readers, when you encounter these symbols, you’re nudged to reflect on your own cycles of transformation. The realization that each ending holds the promise of a new beginning is a deeply human sentiment, and the collection artfully emphasizes that metamorphosis is both natural and empowering.
In exploring symbolism through these layered images—whether it be the transformative fire of a phoenix, the wistful scattering of ashes, or the rebirth emerging from decay—the collection urges you to reconsider the narrative of your own experiences. How do you see the ashes of past struggles giving way to the new chapters of your life? Perhaps you recognize, in your own journey, that moments of loss and ruin quietly herald the seeds of rejuvenation.
What additional symbols or personal analogies have you encountered in literature that mirror the idea of rebirth? We could further explore how these literary devices compare to symbols in other cultural mythologies, such as the lotus in Eastern traditions, further enriching the conversation around renewal and transformation.
"Sea Cliff Heights" embodies the book's overarching theme of rebirth through its rich, natural imagery and its relentless meditation on time and memory. The poem’s persistent motifs—such as the repeated tapping, the rhythmic ebb of the tide, and the shadowed interplay of light and darkness—serve as constant reminders of life's cyclical nature. Here, time is not linear or final; rather, it is an ongoing process marked by both decay and renewal. The tapping, echoing like a heartbeat or a metronome, mirrors the steady pulse of transformation, suggesting that every moment—whether fraught with longing or steeped in quiet introspection—contributes to the eventual reemergence of hope and new beginnings.
The poem juxtaposes the desolation of the rocky cliffs and the solitary echoes against the tender allure of nature’s elements—the salty-sweet air, the gentle caress of the tide, and the luminous interplay of golden and silver strands. These vivid sensory details not only evoke memories of lost love and faded youth but also point to the potential for renewal. The frailty of "old tatters" and "relics of a heart" gives way to the possibility of rebirth, much like nature itself can reclaim and renew even the most desolate landscapes. In this sense, the physical environment becomes a metaphor for internal transformation: as the tide reclaims the shore, so too does the spirit find ways to reconstruct itself from remnants of the past.
Furthermore, the poem’s emotional landscape is imbued with both melancholy and a delicate promise of resurgence. Phrases like "I wait," "memories take to flight," and the solemn return of the rhythmic tapping invite the reader into a meditative space where longing coexists with the inexorable forward march of time. The act of waiting—despite the pervasive sense of solitude—suggests an underlying acceptance of life's cycles. There is an implicit understanding that every ending, every moment of solitude or loss, is not final but rather a precursor to a new beginning. This duality—loss interwoven with the hope of rebirth—is emblematic of the collection’s broader exploration of transformation.
In essence, "Sea Cliff Heights" captures the heart of the book’s theme by using nature’s eternal cycles as a mirror for personal renewal. The poem hints that even amid isolation and the wear of time, there is beauty in the rhythm of decay and recovery, in the delicate balance between remembrance and the promise of tomorrow.
I fed my whole book into the Gemini and ask it to write a book review;
How do you think it done?
My friendships
Turn to dust
As another date
I said offhand,
I failed to commit
To memory.

Trauma of the past
Has left remnant seeds
Of which I rely on
As a survival instinct
That has driven,
Like roots,
Uncontrollably through
Every friendship I gain.

I forget the most basic
Conversations and things
I’ve said,
But my past,
Made black in defense
Of my ability to move forward,
Shows plainly
That most of it I did not need;
Files have been deleted,
And only frames
Of each have been contrived
To make looking back easier to handle.

I often wish it was not this way,
And find myself apologizing
For a defense mechanism
That has rooted in the very fabric
Of every memory—
Will they ever forgive me?
Will I?—
I hope they don’t see the blank
Canvas that I see.

Will it ever be filled
With anything other than
The coffee stains
That have been left
From when I’ve decidedly
Put off trying
Not to forget?

Or will it be an everlasting
White, that juxtaposes
The darkness I see when I look back?—

It tantalizes me, truly.
52 lines, 325 days left.
Martin Rombach Dec 2015
In the moment, the clarity of the seconds where the self exists I am wallowing
The now is a draining flow of self disrespect
I take what little dopamine I can find from the stories we build in new interactive and technologically enhanced ways
Because I can't seem to let go of when I spoiled the party, showing the people an abstract cancer inside myself
Maybe its the remnants of wine and revelry that juxtaposes against it which gives me reason to indulge in the bitter
Maybe the alcohol and carcinogens are a physical drain I should take into account
Or maybe showing these people that I still am behind, am weak against my personal struggles, maybe its something that I'm ashamed of

This is shame I'm feeling after all
Over something so stupid, and forgettable, yet..
Symbolic of a burning desire that scares me
Anger, the need to fight, shout, scream and 'win', whatever that means
Would I lose it if I stood in shorts and gloves and made the other man fall?
Or does it represent what I think it does?
An emasculating realisation of time lost, friends no longer friends, a face in the mirror that still isn't good enough
As much as I try to love him

I don't know
But now some people I respect know how pathetic my anger can sound so..
You'll have to forgive the self consciousness
I'm thankful for knowledge, friendship and the direction I've manifested out of the madness
I think after giving my body a push, my equals a Hello, my crafts an hour and a bit of a shaping
I'll be fine

I just I don't like being angry
First you ply me with flirtatious smiles
Then you dry me with a towel
The mundane juxtaposes
With the profane quite nicely
Misguided tangents or misleading angels
Retrograde dancers hit the wall
As I fall at your feet for centuries
But you say you must leave me for the summer
I say come back and be my lawyer or my lover
It's all in the way we blame each other
For true hunger is always a holy rolling
Nobody knows.
Reality is so verbose
Full of unintended purpose

Who are we,
Nobody knows

Lives right across the undisclosed
With many living things so close

Who are
No body
We know ?

Fictions and dreams of bygone truth
The real world juxtaposes
Stepping inside the living booth
To experience blood and roses

Who are
The body
We know ?
Excuse me what are you doing here ??

— The End —