Hoppin' Round on One Foot

Hymn 42. - none of this poetry is mine

Thu, 15 Mar 2007 01:37:14 GMT

Hino 42 -
Dai-me amor, dai-me amor
Dai-me o pão do Criador
Dai-me amor, dai-me
Livrai-me de todo mal.
by Mestre Irineu

I just finished an essay...had to read a lot of poetry in portuguese...I didn't know portuguese before I started. Still don't. Hope I get a great mark!
I didn't even bother with the german book except for the pretty pictures...luckily I do know spanish enough to use the one book I found in that language, and the two in english were ridiculously bad, so I hope I don't lose marks for using them.

30 - Eu tomo esta bebida

Eu tomo esta bebida
Que tem poder inacreditável
Ela mostra todos nós
Aqui dentro da verdade

Subi, subi, subi
Subi foi com alegria
Quando eu cheguei nas alturas
Encontrei com o Pai eterno
E Jesus Cristo Redentor

Subi, subi, subi
Conforme os meus ensinos
Viva o Pai eterno
E viva todo Ser divino.

writer's block.

Sat, 24 Feb 2007 23:10:56 GMT

I've been compiling my poetry into a wiki.
I downloaded a program called wikidpad to help me do this.
I haven't been writing much new material lately, so I don't have much to post.
I haven't bothered updating the image gallery with higher-resolution, cooler looking pics yet, so don't bother looking for something new.

Here's some weird jibberish for you.

---Kann Talama Sit Blen---
Paloma jaralna liep kin daster marf,
Jin tadist mar kel namin pa fet daffen gershet nas.
Pes namen get,
Jin gosset fras nug berres nen,
Exilotsen.
Welkiop dih prohna sec raf,
Shan garsin dap kaltipar ka,
Peff nassit blat kann talama...
Kann talama sit blen.

Pretty Pulp

Tue, 16 Jan 2007 18:18:24 GMT

The forbidden fruit is still purple,
overripe.
It's rotten flesh still desirable,
pretty pulp.
My last taste was so long ago
and far too small a portion.
Already expiring, it left me
sick.
Seasons later, the forbidden fruit still
rumbles in my gut.
I consider climbing up to examine it
In it's high-flying treetop frame,
but lack the guts to pluck it from it's branch
and take another bite.
The purple skin may thicken
Season by season,
and the pretty pulp may be bitter to me now,
but I cannot curb the craving I get
(despite my crippling indigestion)
to plant it's tiny pit
and grow myself another rottenwood tree
have another taste of the spoils,
suck on the pretty pulp,
chew on the thick purple skin
and perhaps this time,
learn to vomit up the remains
of a poison I'll never have an immunity for.

New Gallery coming soon

Mon, 24 Apr 2006 20:52:37 GMT

I'm working on a series of self portraits inspired by Elizabeth Bathory. The preview can be found here.

Yes, this means I'm finally working on the CSL site again :P but don't get your panties in a bunch, it's still going to take a while.

Oceanfish

Wed, 22 Mar 2006 21:06:46 GMT

the anchor of reality dropped to your ocean floor
sends ripples and waves against you
breaking your stride.
you know you saw the boat coming
and can't wait for the rusty hooks
to guide you on your way.
when you're meat you mean something
the provider, the entertainment, the sport..
but when you're far away and hidden,
you're nothing but a folktale.
so you wait to see the apparatus
watch the bait dangle and tease you
and you let yourself be tempted, but hold fast
in the end, the nets are deployed against you
swim, swim away, it's far too late.

evolution of one small universe

Tue, 14 Feb 2006 04:39:00 GMT

Evolution Of One Small Universe

In the beginning there was peace,
The elements each in glorious unity
But time went on and harmony evolved
The elements embraced their independance

First by air, then land they moved on
Fire was last to turn away.
Though water held fast to it's origins
Now and again the elements congregated,
With love they celebrated and separated

Then the rocky ground shook for eons
Violent and constant, the war raged on
But mountains rose and fell together,
Valleys still plunged into the land
The dynamic of the universe electric
One moment energy, the next shock

And then the sky was separated from the land,
The seas rolled back from the shore,
Only wells and springs remained,
Occasionally spilling forth onto the plains.

And then all was dry, and there was a great anxiety.
Many days passed and a hush was on the land
The winds faded to a whisper of anticipation

In came the red rain to wash away the fear
The stormclouds roared with loud agony
The land was purged of its architecture
Rivers ran forth from the valleys,
Putting out the fires of creation

And the world shuddered in pain
And the world rejoiced in joy

rottenwood

Sat, 11 Feb 2006 23:11:47 GMT

One of these days I'm going to get around do doing something with the website... Totally am... *rolls eyes*
Uuntil then... here's a fantastic voyage plot.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Twas a doomed adventure
Into the haunted wood,
Steeped with creatures
Of woe and memory.
Each step backward
In space but not in time;
Pressing farther,
Not quite uncertain,
Deeper into the darkness.
Feral and sly, two wolves
Snap at a fresh kill,
Tear at each other,
Fierce and hungry.
They pause now and again
To lap at the still warm heart,
Suck blood from the greying muscle
And leave the husk to rot.
In the underbrush birds twitter,
Cackling, pecking at mountains
Of eyes and toes and lips;
Cheerfully mocking the whispers
That still come forth,
Savouring the moans and jellied tears.
From the belly of a cave
A terrible bellow roars
But still, they stumble on,
Blind and silent.
Its rotting stench so putrid,
Gone so sour so soon.
But it's time for a rest now,
In Rottenwood Forest.
Put down the shields and swords.
Sleep a bitter sleep,
Dream a hopeless dream.

new poetry

Mon, 30 Jan 2006 03:04:29 GMT

Yeah, I know... the short excuse is: I'm just too lazy.

Negligence

The abandoned deserter is smitten,
Restless but not moving on
Trapped in a riddle she's written,
Lost in a maze she's drawn
She's in love with a boy who doesn't exist
Days turn into weeks and months to years,
Filling out her days with emptiness,
On a quicksand path, escaping her fears.

Mon, 05 Dec 2005 15:10:45 GMT

should be about finished my essay in a few hours.. break time means angsty poetry :P

-Research-
my reality stretches out like hot plastic,
i know that all things are possible
i see myself through a video screen,
observing myself observing myself observing myself
philosophical feedback, lame insanity,
an awareness all too keen to keep me in check
i could spend the rest of my life just watching
waiting for something to come along and trip me
make me fall back into the real world...
as if there even is one.
So much emphasis on being successful,
the money, the fame, the glory, materialism
i don't want to marry, no children, no legacy
but how can i live for pleasure and selfishness?
i have ultimate freedom, and yet
our culture demands that i earn it.

Mon, 07 Nov 2005 11:57:16 GMT

I started working on the site again t he o ther day. i have some graphics prepared, and some ideas... i'm splitting the poetry into three sections, instead of listing the chronology.

it'll take me a long time to find the motivation to finish it... so until then, this is my new medium...as you've probably guessed by now.

i don't care how many missing m's and extra spaces are in my sentences... this keyboard is fucked.
<3 , Jacki

-Yes, of course.-

He's the boy who wasn't there
And I resent his every step
He's my only tie to a world beyond apathy
But it's one of hate.
He takes advantage of anything he needs
Taking breaks from smiling fingertips
For granted
I cheer him on in self-disgust
As friends behind his back
Show signs they're queasy; overstuffed.

Tue, 18 Oct 2005 05:05:57 GMT

I hurt. a lot. I've tried to ignore it, push it away, pretend it's irrational and therefore not real. I hate having teenaged angsty bullshit in my life. i hate talking about it... but most of all i hate that by not talking about it, i've built up this custom of not sharing my troubles with my friends and not having any friends to share my troubles with. only friends to escape with.

i can run all i want, but i can't hide... and yet, i'm not ready to face any of my fears. i'm still willing to be the martyr. i don't care what happens to me as long as i don't hurt you in the process.

Sometimes i wish movies like Eternal Sunshine had a basis in reality. it would make it so much easier for me to disappear.

Once a saviour,
Once a whore.
Teenaged freedom,
Sins explored.

Perfect, sexy,
evermore.
Words unspoken,
Heartbroke, poor.

two new

Mon, 22 Aug 2005 20:26:18 GMT

-Shoulder to Die On-

Promises, promises, error's a dye.
Forever unwanted, I'm hopeless, awry.
My cavern-faced portraits, colourful, lie.
Sweet shoulder to die on, come to me dry.

-Banks of the Lost-

In the cave of tormented affairs
A deep blue river twists and flows,
Washing a tide of hatred and longing
Onto the lovelorn banks of the lost.

In such a heap of rosy corpses
Lies one little candle, burning on.
Steadily the flame of hope retreats,
Not to be noticed, but lingering.

Clasped in the hand of a fresh loss,
Still twitching with despair,
The candle shivers impatiently.
One more whisper could be the end.

One word from the mouth of the cold cave
Could mean a freedom, though stony and dark.
And silence, a shadow creeping in,
Insulates the slavery it fortells.

The Ice Queen makes a return

Mon, 08 Aug 2005 22:27:34 GMT

I wrote this at work today, while I was supposed to be hanging new clothes up. Oh well, I got it all done... I was told never to refuse an audience with the Muse and I take that very seriously.

-Out with the Old-
The world is the sun's hot kingdom,
Baked in treason.
Full of people left to stew alone.
Drinking to times past
Behind a veil of mourning,
The ice queen prepares herself
For an early coronation.
The liberty bell in her chest
Tolls to the beat of freedom,
She nurses its crack like a hot coal,
Ready to set the world on fire.
But the world is ashen gray.
She tiptoes around the crown of truth,
Waits for the cold winds to blow her way
Casting their spell of frozen decay.

Time to go buy some M&Ms
-Jacki

blah

Sun, 24 Jul 2005 05:26:59 GMT

-Effigy-

Lumber tossed aside,
Lit aglow by aging embers
Past their peak.
Instant rapture,
Fuel up and race away.
Our cannon's packed with
Insecurities;
Leftover heartbeats
Scraped into the gutter,
Each throb a strike
Closer to midnight.

If you're sick of waiting for me to get off my lazy rear end and put the site back up, take a browse through the old format. It's still hanging around at- http://poetry.csliterature.cjb.net

Site's still down. Eat this.

Sun, 17 Apr 2005 07:54:02 GMT

Once upon a time I was Ophelia
But patience smiled upon me in my woe
I never did go swimming with the flowers
Though frail of mind, delirious and cold.

I woke one day to find my fate accepted,
A million grains of sand blew past my face...
The stream of tears all dried, the river cracking,
And parched, I tried to fill the holes with clay.

I crawled on hands and knees straight up the valley,
Then down again, not certain who had won.
The seasons changed, the journey never ending
'Til earth again revolved around the sun.

Now walking through the doors I closed behind me,
I welcomed in the sunlight through the glass,
Though burn it will, thought I, I'd rather chance it,
Then wallow solitary sans repast.

One evening tragic news collapsed before me,
A touchy tale of Error never slain,
And I, confused, still wonder if that snake
Will turn around and rear her head again.

But time passed on and still the world was spinning,
The fairer folk fell from the sky with snow,
Distracted, I crept out to play along...
The world an eerie white did smiles bestow.

I sauntered calmly into such temptation,
A ruby lock, an elevator smile,
And parch-ed still, I drank, enthusiastic
'Til feeling whole at last... or for a while.

Another bomb did drop upon my doormat,
A billet-doux from whence the river starts.
My comfort drowning with the rising tide,
And hope again gave faith to broken hearts.

Then patience blew away with springtime winds,
Her feathers paused to tickle hunger's whims,
So quietly we played, on angry violins
And melted into one again, happy for our sins.

Straight to the point

Mon, 04 Apr 2005 10:23:26 GMT

Since the site is down, I suppose the most logical thing to do is post here...I'm a lazy, lazy girl.

Children of the Moon

A trembling, ripe volcano
My chest erupts for you alone
As destruction, thick and hot
Washes over the world.

Old anger bubbles out
Into the garish morning,
And we're purple and red,
Living and dying,
Rubbing sugar into old wounds.

It's silent and humid,
We're alone in the universe,
And just for a moment
We belong to each other
In requited, solitary pain.

Hours go by, but
The lava hasn't cooled,
You won't let it sleep yet...
Ours is a bruised, elastic love.

oh yeah, about that...

Fri, 04 Mar 2005 06:37:49 GMT

So I've taken the site down for a while...uhh...you might have noticed.

Sorry for not posting about it sooner. It'll be back eventually.

thumping hearts and bite wounds,

Jacki

sways

Tue, 08 Feb 2005 03:14:13 GMT

Four more poems, only one of which was written today. Apparently I've just been lazy and hadn't posted the others.

Some of you may have noticed that when I wrote about the new guestbook, it wasn't actually on the site yet.

Well, it's still not. Sorry :P I did create it, transfered all of the entries over, and thus you were bombarded with thank-yous for ancient signatures...but that was not motivation enough to get me switching things, and I still haven't.

Replacement is this the soup of the day. Consider the others...hors d'oeuvres to the chef d'oeuvre.

guestbook changeover

Fri, 07 Jan 2005 19:27:00 GMT

Well, it appears that CJB will no longer be hosting my guestbook, so I'm switching over to Html Gear from Angelfire. I'm copying out the old entries and transferring them, but the original date will be posted at the bottom of the comment box.
Feel free to sign again if you feel an injustice has been done ;)

As for new work...I've written and lost three poems in the past week, I'm sure more will be on the way, but you'll have to be patient.

Meantime...candies for all!

sloppy kisses,
Jacki

Dinner time...w00t.

Mon, 06 Dec 2004 22:10:54 GMT

Alright, sorry about teasing you that last time ;) The new poem is up, you'll recognize it by the huge, garish "new" icon.

Check out my new forum, and leave me a comment, please. I just want to see how it works, before I add it to the site. http://forum.cjb.net/cgi-bin/forum.cgi?forum=csliterature

Life happens.

Sat, 04 Dec 2004 07:09:04 GMT

I've written more lately, but in all honesty I'm too lazy to post them on the site. That and busy with school stuff, and company.

Think fast. *PIEINTHEFACE*

Mon, 29 Nov 2004 06:23:13 GMT

Welp, there's another egg just got smashed on the floor at CSL. Check her out in the poetry section, she's called -Through the Cracks- .

Back to the slave-driver that is procrastinatory guilt.

Sloppy, perverted kisses for everyone :D

-Jacki

new short story

Wed, 24 Nov 2004 19:47:47 GMT

I fixed the problem with the flash bar on the site, forgot to move everything over, lol. It's working now.

Don't download anything from my site, (e.g. IEPlugin from some scoobydoo site?? wtf?) It's all pop-up related stuff that I can't get rid of. I hate that. I need to get my own domain name.

Anyway, I've written somthing of a short story just now, which you can access by finding the flash bar at the very bottom of the page. Scroll past all of the poem titles. You'll see it.

The story is called ^True Love^.

(My daydreams just keep getting weirder. I'd be a millionaire if I could burn the products of my imagination on DVD and sell them, words aren't always thorough enough, and when they are, something's lost anyway.)

Cheers.

Hush now, put your head on the pillow, everything will be better in the morning.

Wed, 24 Nov 2004 07:41:35 GMT

I began do dance around with the layout today, so the url leads you straight to the poetry section for now. You can still access the flash bar and it will whisk you away, wherever you would like to go.

One step at a time, darlings.

*passes out*

a rabbit's ears...seven black spots...clear

Sun, 21 Nov 2004 06:26:08 GMT

I think the candy tastes sweeter when the wrapper is still on, so I haven't removed the garish, flashing "new" signs from yesterday's poetry.

However, I've added two new territories to explore, with ^Prisms^ and ^Loup Hole^ as well as a swamp to wade through, ^Blast Away^ which can be found in the SONGS section of the site.

Sadly, I'm still illiterate when it comes to writing music, so you'll have to wait something of an eternity before you can discover what sweet sounds are dancing between my ears.

You'll find that I'm shifting gears lately, as some of my recent poetry, like Loup Hole, is written in...well, not my typical style of writing. It seems that I'm slipping into a (fancifully flawed) iambic pentameter mode, which has thrown off my variable rhythm of freestyle poetry, and it's almost difficult for me to read it after I've written it, so I hope it doesn't bother you, my careful observers.

Pack an extra pair of socks, you're bound to need them when you follow me out of it.