

a city i knowmorning sun in a corporate nowhere shines on buildings erect and skin-shielded and dripping white slime through the gutters. the mom-and-pop fuckshops in debt hunch over lay limp in the streets and moan.a city i know
from a house I emerge drenched in a red coat lips spread, thin open bullseye pointed at the air.
long since loose I smooth my tie straight down the slit and stare up at the sky, vulnerable.


OaTImbPAYou want to know why teenagers can't write good poetry?OaTImbPA
It's because all of our emotions are stunted. We get little snippets of what we're going to feel later in life. We don't know what hate really is. Or anger. Or even love. All of these are emotions that can transfer onto paper and sound beautiful if you're a decent writer, which is all well and good except teenagers don't feel them. We think we feel them, and those of us who attempt to write to convey our emotions will all fail to some degree until we've grown up and lived a little.
But there is on


Thiefkissed by / the city.Thief
maybe it's because the bottle spun and never fell, stuck in an endless twirl, shooting drips of vodka into the night.
the air was as slick with drunken fireworks as the streets were diluted with people:
maybe that's why your lips stole sparks from mine, and shot them away into the night.


an erotic massacremy face is stitchedan erotic massacre
in several places and that bitch is
screaming down the seams with a dullword hacksaw-
and her boyfriend? that hack saw my side of the story. He saw the seams split, spitting little quips of life
buthedoesn'tcare- that night she gave him head and he came in her hair (like all the other nights).
but I digress: were that a scene on my television scream I would screen my calls while I spilled these words
onto the page:
&
im pretty new to all of this but I noticed your work and I think its fantastic, if you dont mind me saying so!
Becky xxx
--
Love me like you loved the sun
Scorching the blood in my vampire heart.
Happiness, by
The Interview, by
Rusting Bridges of Suburbia, by
So, I did some peruzing, and earthed up these three pieces.
Happiness is beautiful in its own simplicity, and has a subtle kick to it that I find lacking in a lot of reading these days.
The Interview is an interesting little for-the-stage piece that I found myself cracking up over, all over the place. There's some great humor and dialogue going on here, as well as some great subtle toss-ins for the actors to experiment with. Something I would love to see performed.
While Rusting Bridges of Suburbia might be a little ho-hum subject-wise, the rhythm and control of meter that ~ honestbrutality has accomplished here is impeccable. It takes a lot of practice and a lot of control of vocabulary to get a good rhythm in a slam piece these days, and it's done beautifully here.
Get writing, fuckos. *jesusbite
--
many cry for the dolphin, trapped in fishing nets.
but who cries for the tuna?
To thank people for their support
and to wish them happy holidays,
I've decided to go to the pages of all 370 deviants
that are watching me, and wish you all a Merry Christmas,
Happy Hanukah or whatever it is you celebrate this time of year.
And may you all have a great New Year as well..
Make sure to make a list of new years resolutions,
and try to stick with them.
& Thank You for dev watching me,
and supporting me. You keep me going,
and help me be who I am.
~xoxo~
Love, Kandice Michelle Plain
--
my facebook!
` you can leave me on the corner where you found me,
i'm not for sale anymore.
--
__________________
|^^^^^^^^^^^\||____
|.The STFU Truck..|||'""|""\__,_
| __GoO 4ever __ l||__|__|__|)
|(@)@)"""""""**|(@)(@)**|(@)
--
Siedhr TM: The Utimate GOD brand. Handle with CARE.
cheers!
--
Siedhr TM: The Utimate GOD brand. Handle with CARE.
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