Frank Miller, your words are magnificent.

Watched Sin City and got something I wasn't expecting, I got poetry. The words flowed so beautifully together, as black and white with smudges of color depicted the stories being told. This movie was gorgeous, black and white with red blood and a yellow man chasing after John. John, Marv, and Dwight the three main men. This was a really well done film, well done because not only did you notice the art in the graphics to resemble a comic book, but the words were also poetic. This movie was worth watching and although violent actions were the main, so was truly caring about somebody enough to do anything to either save or avenge them. Sin City was definitely not a sin to watch and enjoy.

Silence; unspoken speech.

Silence, a wallpaper of lost echoes barred inside a mass of mind. Trapped within the unknowing truth upon lies. When will it ever escape? This iron curtain of rage, sometimes beautiful. Artwork telling stories, standing up for a cause, even just subtle words or petite ally graffiti. A mute, feeling life in a new direction of communication. When you can't easily tell somebody how you feel, your forced to show it. A courage many instantaneously lack. However, speechlessness can also inflict the deepest, and darkest of drowning pains. The lull of rejection, the hush of hatred, or the plain facts of how one can't hide a stare beyond a blackout. The dull decrease of actually caring for one another when you can't say affection nor have the true emotional standpoint to sight some piece of physical representation. An absence of sound, Silence.

Simply enjoy.

Valentines Day, the chocolates, flowers, and pin to enormous teddy bears. The girlfriends smiling and laughing as they get taken out to dinner and gifted with jewels. Men all dressed up, happy as armadillos in army tanks, holding the hand of the girl they worked to get. The girl they wanted to understand, the girl that actually means something to them on Valentines Day. Formal, the gazes upon gorgeous gowns and luxurious tuxedos slipping flowers to one another. Everybody, each girl hand in hand awaiting their escorts. Their dates, their main man, chaperon or even convoy depending on the get in the limo guest list. The Facebook status's illuminating the fear of going alone; without a date. Cliques of ladies and crowds of man, separated by white clothed tables and fancy dinner lit candles. Than the music starts, the ladies click their heels and the men stomp their toes. Moving to the dance floor, not separated no more. Dates don't matter, just the loudest song and the hardest beat. It's Formal. Soon enough the music begins to slow and the masses collide to choose one another for a special movement of the heart and soul. Fractions of time, it's only fractions does it matter if your attached at the hip with somebody, but it's only a dance. It's just a dinner, it's time to spend with friends and celebrate the upcoming adventurous times with others. It's not about who's hand your holding in a fancy dress, because it's your friends that will be constantly reaching out for it. Simply enjoy.

Idea for Writing,

Visual photo with little writing that means something, I might have something. I took this photograph myself and edited it. My stuffed animal wanting to be a lion who is in the right corner, and it's just basically taking a stand to the media because we always see what and how things could be better but taking for granted how flaws make us who we are.

The innocence multiplies from the simple stare of healing,

Extensive, round, black eyes just honestly floating among your stare. Unaware, unaware of the guilty vengeance on standby to be laid upon your four paws and two golden droopy ears. The affliction, agony, and over twenty outrageous anguishing inflictions. To be torn apart, piece by piece. Thrown into the box, clutched by the collar and snapped back out. Kicked, swatted, and dragged away as the yelps continued one by one until all the puppies were emptied out of the cold barred, steel cage. An inhumane sensation to salt the flesh and carve the backside to the bone. Puppies, to many people stand for this innocence claim to better somebody's emotional standpoint... to others, simply a defenseless product slopped around to make a profit. Puppies, blistered and battered to be forced to mate and corrupted inward bloodlines demolished. To be locked up and swept into a dark place to give birth and give birth again. Locked in a cold, barred cage of implemented sexual bruising. Puppy mills, something you support without even knowing it. Research before you make the mistake of bridging the gap between human innocence and inhuman torturous nightmares. Fight back, support the right breeder, not the profitable monster.

The adventurous mind wanders towards the highway without a destination.

So maybe one day i'll just disappear for awhile, drive the open road onto plains, beside oceans, and up strangely molded mountains as i look towards an oddly shaped cloud. Maybe i'll breathe from another atmosphere and quench the thirst of water when it's all evaporated around me. Maybe i'll simply take a long stroll with Brock and exit the vehicle beside a forest and roam around until i decide it's not as lonely when your completely alone rather than with people who choose not to see you there. Maybe, just maybe, i'll cross state lines and decide that Americans ain't so bad... or take the majestic journey to the glorious glimmering none existent shadows of what used to be ice sculptures and unseen specks of shrubbery. Maybe i'll find my comfort around the rocky, wet, fish scented pin prick on a map kinda town. Wash away my sorrows in the great big apple, a fruit might heal something, ya never know. Switch it up a bit and claim island after island as sea sickness is washed off the ferry with every splash of graceful fin cruising along the side to distract the cluttered mind. Everything, everything that could ever be. Everything stabbed into one place to pinch everything and cluster stress until you really would rather just jump. Everything, poisonous and fatal and each detailed conversation blurring the journey to happiness. Everything, simply wisped away in a time lap tire that could burn it out so far that you would have no choice but to get out there and find a new one... a place to belong once again. A place to feel like they could never just drive away from you. An enduring palace in the mind, to faintly, just be looked at as an equal.

Let’s be one tonight.

The ease of calm warming all around your naked silk figure, to extend upon your thighs in a tranquil blanket. The security among the feeling, the direct emotion of safety. The cruel film of want exceeding into your free thought and taking them over like the cancerous cells attacking each good deed in a dangerous tango without luxery. To seize this disease and attach a masterpiece of happiness, to light up this shadow and than turn off the lights and close your eyes to renew the feeling of warmth upon your gaze. So tender, so smooth. A guilty fancy. Delicious surrender at your lips as the gentle gasp escapes among the plump aspirations from desire. Devouring reality as if an illusion. Let’s just lay in the dark for awhile, let’s just sink into eachothers beat and follow the extended sighs and air exclaimation. Let’s draw the stars and light and the fireworks, let’s float upon our very own worthy trance. Let’s be one tonight.

Intension to share.

The toned mountains of muscle perched on your shoulders that race down your spine. The shelled out biceps that crunch up to hold my tender shadow, to lift my thighs around your waist and inhale life. Just to hold your neck in the palms of my hands, to rest my lips upon your soft skin and breathe. The scent of masculinaty against the action to steal the warmth for us to share. The sheer enjoyment of the moment that i’ll be spending with you, to view you from all angles and accept you in each minute of them. The diversity of the action that all replicate into one, simply accepting the idea of allowing you to hold me up, hold me high in each worldly manner.

"A wounded heart trapped in a corrupted world." -ML

Can it all seriously just slip away that easily ?

Like the simple cleansing in a shower, you step into it completely naked. Bearing all your scars and worries, and you lift your foot and you step into the secluded area. You turn on the water to how hot you want it to be and you shampoo your hair and create bubbles to cover your body…. The soap cleans all the dirt off of you and than you simply rinse it off. Although you see it as an everyday thing and it happens to everybody, what you don’t understand is that you never truly understand how much a shower can change a person unless you see the before and after. And it seems your meant to be more stunning in the after, so maybe, maybe the ending really is meant to last longer than the time in the rain.

"All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

My old blog =)

meginator.wordpress.com

Only a startling few minutes before, the heart pumped, indulging alongside a pulse.

Subtle, but corrupt. Awaiting the tear to be dragged down her cheek. A silver weight chained to her tear, conveying a sparkle. An angry little man, called Grief, attempted to pull it lower from the safety of her chin. Holding it back, unwilling to be the daughter incubated by sorrow.

The imagination creates so many escapes, through loop holes in your life it seems at some point each and every speck of detail could be greater.

It’s only the fragments of memory, that I wish I could sway my flesh anchored worth, directly inside. The push and pull of love and loss as the volcano bursts at the slightest thought of seclusion. The entity of desire to wisp my simply mortal frame deeply snug between a soft cloth and a warm breeze. Oceans maybe? Seas of current only applauding the dolphins after they had their noisy engagements. A worldly vision of happiness and diverse angels simply roaming the planet to better their soul. A safe haven to clasp the clouds in one hand and drink from the softest streams in the left, to pick only the ripest fruits from the tree and sink my teeth into fresh snow when the winter droplets were ready to pour. A Pocahontas forest to claim nothing but inhale the access of everything, to find where balance can stay as is and one simple body can thrive with the rest of them. All the same, beating hearts and caring faces. To find the peace inside, and create a free breathless experience upheld in the mind of the dreamer. To escape into a detailed palace that would sadly never exist again.

Poetry is the simple satisfaction of telling the ultimate truth.

Poetry is the wood,
waiting for you to light the flame.

Poetry is the welcoming stage,
inviting you to sing your first solo.

Poetry is the monster inside you,
giving you a pen to take away the fear.

Poetry is the beating heart,
allowing you to fill it with love.

Poetry is the safe haven for fallen soldiers,
allowing you to write them a song.