Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

there there dont weep
your petals have strecthed far and given birth to beautiful young men
as they tell you of the roses they have found in this world your sons
speak of the hidden love and secrets that have blossomed within
the women have told you tales from accross the seas of the mystery in the heart , the secrets of the soul
have left you naked velvet and lacy curtains unveil a rather brillant skin
shining in the light
penetrating the darkness
no stranger is the truth than those who you have loved
so deeply
it burned with a passionate fire, and scorched the surfaces, which peeling away layer after layer
revealed a natural tendency for frailty and defenseless, filled with surrender; had to
walk away for healing
finding once again that flame that touches so deeply
that the memory of any pain or bitterness is so quickly forgotten in the magnetic pleasure of throbbing souls-
the seas of many droplets of water squeeze the juices forward in a wave
which comes to shore on a beach
filled with sand and sunshine and clear blue turquoise waters
it is here that i take refuge
every muscle sore, stretched out and languid in the rays of the sun
perhaps it was because i was not touched enough when i was a child
the throat tightens with tension
when i sense that my voice is silienced
by the past, the moment that i feel this cord of old umbilical skin tied in a knot near my belly
quickly emerging
is the lost turmoil of a life that somehow was never my own
gifted and electric
i sense the distance between the past and the present
i rise; decent and whole and beautiful.... filled with intensity and forces i recognize as friendly
to seep an almost explosive erruption
of steam and lava and gases that color the skies
i hear your voice
and i have to laugh out loud
the kind of laugh that can be disturbing to the uncomfortable

it is one that builds up from the belly,the place of creation,the oven that smells of fresh baked bread, warm potatoes and delicate meat
again, it is hunger, a quiet little tickle,a small drum beat faint and consistant
a heart that calls you to be near
a private place
my vagina is clear

Enjoyed this writing!

I'm going to move it to the Creative Writing board.

Private vagina eh? Well, it's the best kind.

A really good read. Many great lines.

perhaps it was because i was not touched enough when i was a child
the throat tightens with tension
when i sense that my voice is silienced
by the past, the moment that i feel this cord of old umbilical skin tied in a knot

that definitely touches a cord!

the kind of laugh that can be disturbing to the uncomfortable

yes!

and your finishing lines are simply wonderful!

it is one that builds from the belly, the place of creation, the oven that smells of fresh baked bread, warm potatoes and delicate meat
again, it is hunger, a quiet little tickle, a small drum beat faint and consistant
a heart that calls you to be near
a private place
my vagina is clear

I must say though that that last line kinda makes me chuckle a little.

All in all a great read. I would like to see it formatted a little differently, perhaps line breaks used a bit more effectively. Not meant as a criticism because Lord knows I have trouble formatting my stuff and never seem to get it right. But yours is such a worthy piece that I just had to point out how much greater it would be to read if the setup were a bit more reader friendly, if you know what I mean.

(ps: there's an extra accidental i in silenced which I noticed when quoting.)

Thanks so much for sharing this.

Gee weez CS you making me feel like Oedius Rex,

"My Mother's Name Is Victory", BJS

And thinking about Rose's vagina in a vagina. Four pregnancies and three sons, she had her fith, a going a way present from Crazy Mike, she finally had a daughter.

And all she wanted was for her children to be happy that they were born. She lived long enough to see her sons happy, but not her daughter. Never to late to feel a mother's love.


Good writing Creative, very beautiful.