Shelley House

shelley house

On and on, the persistant wind, wails
I've been gone for days

On and on, he longs for days
On and on, and on and on, and on and on

and so forth;

Refrain, yeah, 1 2 3

Ever seen that sheen on a car, that's green on the
Guitar...

you bet I have, you don't have it - sorry, my bad
heels, highs, lows, all 4s.

just be lingual
just be lingual
just be lingual
REPEAT

That's so sweet, yeah sure whatever
that's so cool, yeah sure whatever
that's hot, so so sotever
you rock, yeah - whatever

Cactus- dupatta, on the lips, stings, ouch!
its what sells these days, and anything does,
you see the math in that? Kira and her red dress

Kira and her red dress
Kira and her red dress
Kira and her red dress

Kyra, Kyla, Kala kala mahol, mera Eshq...
Aur tumharee mot

They say I killed my Mom
the day I was born,
and so on, so on,
and so on, on and on
back & forth
back & forth

YES THAT GIRL IS MINE
yeah sure whatever
THAT GIRL IS GOOD
ahaan I don't get that good
That girl that girl that girl
well yeah, I live with her.

Good to go?
solid.
Gold.

SOLD.





(Better Luck Next Time)

Topics in Mental Art
Mental Physics
Mental Lives
How to approach the Mental
The Mental Plane
TOPICS IN PHILOSOPHY: THE MENTAL AND PHYSICAL PLANES

AS SUCH MENTAL AND PHYSICAL (THUS PHYSICS) REALITIES SEEM TO BE POLARITIES. (OPPOSITES)
SYLVIA PLATH IS A MENTAL PHYSICIST –
HOW? BECAUSE SHE IS A POET, CREATING MENTAL REALITIES ONTO THE PHYSICAL FORM OF PAPER.
AND SO, EMILY DICKINSON IS
A PHYSICAL POET, BECAUSE ONE OF HER MAJOR THEMES IS “NATURE & THE PRIEST WITHIN.”

Lipstick - Satanic

Lipstick - Satanic.

A sugar with a wanton color escapade. Parrot-green, fuchsia, sinister orange swooning to sleep. Lipsticks. Color this. Color that. Lipstick certain. Brains. Twelve or so perfect sticks. Neat, neat, neat. Clipped, rose-chipped. Chapstick. Dry-bronze, tissue-pink, skin color, overtones. Ten bites of perfect revenge. Lipstick orange. Taunting green. Parrot vice. Eye-green, eye-pencils. Woman. Dominique had a column with Gail Wynand. Thirty pieces of perfect chalk purple. Lipsticks by the sea-shore. Purple, by the sea, perfect. Quick take-out from a snake-green hides purse. Selling pink. Cost ghost-white eye-liners. Black mascara, red lips. Marker Red. Rational, business woman(bay ب), lipstick: brown, azure bronze, to the eye-pencil, gold. Fine drop, coins. Penny-crushed gold-bronze lipsticks.

All for Fatima.

Thanks Satan.

What's New?

There is a thin, narrow, long alley. I turn around and catch whispers. Around twenty-five things of air assemble out of the dawn - it was a mercy to have a friend as a critic - that way you know where you've gone wrong.

Just take the next road. RIGHT LEFT, and a little to the D,R rose.

Dr. Rose arrives at the scene, dressed fabulously in khaki brown coats, with long-stemmed roses drawn out of her collar, sowed in with needles, just in case of a fall out. The hair tumbles down, like lucifer's visit, only on her own faces now.

She has water, rosemary, and brown leaves, her hands are pale and brown - but they don't lack color, and neither do they waste away as if they don't exist, like they often do on women with thin, emaciated arms, she had a dis-proportionate friend like that once. Don't know where she disappeared. Perhaps left life after Political Science. Women lose their ethnic pride and thin arms to it. Here's a toast to fantastic things.

Yes, Orhan, so... when I was in grade 9, Father mentioned tea-cups that he could make. It was easy. There was nothing to it.

Art was destroyed.

- But remember, that there was something to it - otherwise it wouldn't have caught up with you, after all these years.

The thing about my new Art PortFolio, and its very many un-assorted papers, is just this: I love it.

Thank you for Everything.

Rose Everything; tea-cups.

petal, poor reds, unforgiven tear,
touching civil, right soft,
a nasha about it even now.

----------------------------------

Cactus MeiraJ. Fatima MeiraJ

There it is a little there like a care or a flaw honey-machine how I have wanted answers from your cruel responses. There is a lot of acumen in these taunts, Torah.
ha!

blind-ness. Your High-ness.



Brown-ness. That's the way it will be, ib-nal-a-ara-bi. Coming at ya.

Speed: lightning.
Assault: frightening. ON TIME.
Anal Haq of it: "To touch is to heal,
to hurt is to steal
if you wanna kiss the sky,
better learn how to kneel

On your knees, boy!" - lyrics.



POLICE NOTE: QUOTATIONS ARE A MUST FOR ANY IDEA THAT BELONGS TO ANOTHER HUMAN INDIVIDUAL. PLEASE NOTE: IN THE STATE OF EMERGENCY WE ARE IN, LAWS ARE CRUCIAL.
STATUS INACTIVITY IS DELAYED.
DON'T STEAL ANY LABOURER'S WAGES.


NAME: Given, not stated.
NAME: MEIRAJ

A bit over-used, abused.

A bit over-used, abused.

as it is I'm a bit used, raw, a bit abused. As it is
the apple is a flaw, black insect apple,
right as it is, its wrong.

I feel the green hue of snake-city again, anyway
they have cursed me: don't say SNAKE
though they say its KNEBIK (native snake)

I can't help it. Someone's going to send me to prison
for being a writer. yikes. I should have re-considered
Salman Rushdie, he is a famous writer, well of course,
I shudder.

Satanic Verses, were placed by my door, by his evil hand,
right now as he visited.

Kabir, he has visited.

I feel alive. Again.

Lets live it all again, Flambeau.

or was it 'capitals only'

A capital loss.

You should have tried it a little later, the grape is sour,
that's all.

Its still bittersweet.

cigerette isles.

cig and the fire after, its like this.

again'n'again over'n'over

its like this

over'n'over/ again'n'again

I'm over you

over'n'over/ again'n'again

she's got the heartbeat
I'll do as I please
she's got to be...at least 18 or so

at least, at least.

love dyed tremble
don't lie, assemble
jingle jangle

earring laughter
to be there, or not to be there

that is the question...

not to be, not to be, not to be

(try that, rich kids,
its the question
its THE question

jaantee ho...)

relapse.

real eclipse.

rationalism.

yes, yes, that's it - its it.

Its 'it.'

Laughter!

tobacco.

i traumatized. i trembled. i assembled -
broken bones - paraphernalia

schizophrenia, and

over'n'over/ again'n'again

he ran me over.

over'n'over over'n'over over'n'over' over'n'over

over'n'over

under acid.

under acid, the lip is cold, the vinegar is wanton, and the diabetes? Its foretold over'n'over/ again and again, I'll make it my logo: Over'n' Over..

again'n' again

"Crab, Cactus & Skull" -- part 2

Skull survived. Cactus lost his mind & Crab....lived and did not die, his name was Kabir I saw him when I was 8, we lived well in concentration camps, Cactus betrayed.

Skull was I, Kabir was 9, I was 8.

I was 15, she was 7 or so.

Kabir, I was 7? not 8?

You were 15 I was 8

No, no...I think it was...

Final, Perfect: "I was 15, she was 7 or so."

Single Unit, Monetary Strength. My best friend. Nicotine, my laughter.

My friend, Skull.

-------------------------

"Crab, Cactus & Skull"

Female, Truck-Drivɝ monologue in French. (lol)

Female, Truck-Driver. <---- joke.


Nicole:

I had every idea the truth was over. The "truth" was over. I thought of it again and again and again - till I became obsessed - it was a death chant.

It was over.

It felt like dynamite - running, racing in my mind - over and over, again and again, caressing my soul.

Denial? was an answer - I had to keep running and running and running. "Daniel," I whispered many times - till it was over.

Over, over, over.

It was over.

Damn it.


Roads are so blue. What's behind them, is true, real. Hurry.

Its over.

Its over, Its over - over, over, over, over, over, over, over, over, over.

Over and over again, the road was the same.

It was over, over, over, over, over.

I memorized it. I worship it.

Truth. Laughter. Diction.


Female Truck-Drivers shouldn't be writers. (wryly)

Damn it.

The darling white of white-veils. It is over.

Life, Death. Something white. Disappearing, missing.

It is over.

It is over.


[Crash, Twilight/ Turn-over]











-----------------------------------
It was over, for a hundred years. It was over. It was over. It was over. It was over. It was over. grey love,

God.

For Semantics Teacher - "Female, Truck-Driver" (Coming Shortly on Some...X...TRACK-tʌs)

PROLOGUE TO - Female, Truck-Driver

'Writers' - not artifacts.
'Sense' - not slaughter-house.
'Decorum' - not toads.


Perfect writing should not be disturbed, as a soul must not be - Angel 10

Then there was talk in our day...

of bread, butter & alcohol.

What is this?

Ruination, at least,

At least, its fun now.

Now that you're locked behind a door.