[x]

On Identity Doubled In the old days, which means when my identical twin and I lived in the same state, we were often asked, "What's it like to be a twin?" At age twelve, I got tired of that and answered the question with a question, "What's it like not to be a twin?"

Good question. My sister and I were born about six years after our one sibling, so I was the "baby" in our family by one minute. The age gap between our older sister and us also made us ever more a firm two-some than twins from larger and closer families. My twin and I were called "identical mirror twins," which means she's left-handed and

Name That Baby1) Audio Version Here and 2) New Audio Version here Scroll to "Read by SilverInkBlot," then find this title.

I'm gonna lay it on the table
Do the tell
Get the spelling right
Tight.
Got called "depressed"
Took it up to "manic"
Bipolar in the head
And they said --

"Make it longer,
Schizo-affective
Bipolar tendencies"
New dependency
On taking pills,
To flatten my hills
Knock out the frills,
I got double-damned.

'Cause a this shit --
Father dies in a pool
Mother dies too,
In love with a fool
Mother let days pass,
No food or water
How did she last?
I closed her eyes,
They felt alive,
Like little butterflies.

Hector also dies,
Left alone by

Three in Five MinutesDream one was a bright white flash
and sounds of things breaking
I opened my eyes and saw it all.

Now I think that it was me.

Dream two was my child yelling
"Where are you? Where are you?"
I opened my ears and heard it all.

Now I think that it was me.

Dream three was a sudden knocking
on the door in deepest dark.
I opened the door and saw nothing.

Now I think that it was me.

All Sewed Up It was a guy who introduced himself mainly as a Scorpio (with the added name of Simon) who inspired Helen's best art work. She wasn't much of an artist, really -- more of a reader, and not so hot at that either. Simon asked her to embroider a large scorpion on the back of his thin denim shirt, so that's what she did.

Helen used every shade of the many reds she had in her embroidery kit, shaping the scorpion, sculpting it. She separated the six strands of thread to make a piece of embroidery thread thin enough. She knew the more subtlety there was in a piece, the better it looked.

For this scorpion, she couldn't stop until it

Who gives this woman?No one can,
     for she was free and wild
          before she left my womb,
Said her mama.

No one can,
     for she was free and wild
          before she let go my hand,
Said her daddy.

No one can
     bind the wind that is her breath
     trap the water that is her blood
     cage the earth that is her bones
     capture the fire that is her heart
Said her granny.

No one may give wha

How Vast It IsI can't write a poem for you.
I can't sing a song for you.
I can't be you.

I once wished I could take your place and told you I would in a heartbeat.
You said "Yes, please do!" but we know I can't even do that.
I only say I'm sorry and envelope your pain with my own.

We both know you're strong and have weathered many things.
But some things won't change.
This disease you have now won't change. You'll change with it.

You sent a text message, "I felt a tiny feeling in my left foot! Woot!"
I sent one back to help you celebrate.
I wished again I had what you have. Such a small thing you felt against the looming.

I can't linger on wo

The Day After the FuneralHer Husky arises every few minutes,
in order to expose different parts of its mottled coat
to the flickering fire,
the dog turns in a lazy stop-start orbit
of fur and slurry-jawed yawns.

Beside the same dying flames,
a leather-bound Bible rests
on my Grandmothers lap,

an hour or so ago
the old rocking chair creak
fell silent,

now her head of silver hair
slouches to a side,
bifocals searching for escape
from the tip of her wrinkled nose,
the slow purr of her outward breath
makes a comforting sign
of late-evening life.

I should really venture out
to the dark dewy fields,
out to the open night stars,
to gather mo

Rushmore ReduxI had wanted to help with Ziolkowski's art
I had wanted to honor Crazy Horse
They only wanted dynamite experts
And heavy equipment operators

His maquette points to the Black Hills
An impolite usage of an index finger
Crazy Horse cannot protest,
But his great grand children can

Standing Bear went off the reservation
No council meetings or powwow
A surprise attack on the Black Hills
Rushmore redux of a Red Man

Custer's corpse with pierced ear drums
Still doesn't hear
Andrew Myrick said "Let them eat grass!"
His dead mouth stuffed with it

The crime, on going
American natives still feel steel
Conquistadores shed their armor for

A Winters Night in SpringWe listened to Cat Stevens
and wondered
what our names would be
If we changed them:
you chose Jennifer
and I took Ben.

Sitting in the window sill
we watched the shadows moving,
and not the objects
that cast them.

We extinguished the incense sticks
when realising
that wood smoke
and the breeze
was all that was needed.

With a street light as chandeliers
and the traffic
and territorial calls of animals
as music,
we waltzed
to Nights In White Satin.

Achromatic Dreamstoday, god gave me present.

-
i.

stilted windows, white bones
decaying lungs and my mind races
at the rate of a lone moth's jaded wings

we taste better alone

ii.

clemency is earned
by the damned, by the damned
arbitrary sacrifices

we belong to nobody

iii.

and she bowed with artless grace
kissed the sky, shed stardust tears
choked on angelic moonshine

we draw our own constellations
-

today, i gave god presence.

As I inaudibly crumbleThe first thing that I can assure you of is the fortitude of my soul: I am a pact so strong that even the hurricane which caused my house to tear apart couldn't budge me. So strong, that even the earthquake that cracked the face of my school building couldn't chip me. So strong, that no amount of tidal waves could crash and break into my walls, my being. I am a pact made of several precious trinkets, letters and colors bound fervently. My frame has become a watchtower and my spirit, its sentry; I fulfill set duty. I am a pact so strong that I crave for certain commotion over what it is that I am, I wear and bare my vanity. I am a thrill seeke

The GardenerMy flowers were dying.

I was told he could help
and found him in his greenhouse
with a water-gun,
soaking a row of African Violets.

The old man seemed to be expecting me,
we walked to a small campfire
that had spent the day
collecting shadows in a forest field
and now cast the darkness back at us
through the sparse trees
as long black ghosts.

We broke warm bread by firelight,
I could see his teeth
sat in shadows of their own
but his eyes laughed through both cycles of breath,
he squatted by the coals, looked at me:

flowers don't grow because you water them,
they grow, the

movingjust before the start of spring
whilst blue moonlight washed
my slightly sacred thing
i vacated
the left side of my brain

i moved out overnight
in a dream of sharp lines
as mad naked women
danced to thick phallic symbols
all covered in vine

i packed up in the darkness
(but for the blue)
placed my logic in a square trunk

DivorceLove me until I'm bored
So I can make a scene of it;
I want to be willing to throw
Plates and juxtaposed phrases
In your face
Into the face of
Your snuff-noose compassion.
Please
Smother yourself
With your reverse-spined spite
So I won't be able do it for us-
I would make too clean of a job of it

SOMETHINGWhat smoky poltergeist has lit out

across the dusty plains of my mind

and left no footprint?

A contrarian alchemist turning

my gold into lead and taking with it

all my illusions of clarity

Those wizards and sorcerers hawking

their false incantations and last right lies

I sense another curve in my future

Something just up ahead

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 1.2 KB more ▶

More from *xlntwtch

Janus She drove the switchbacks with joy and ferocity. It usually took an hour to reach the hovel after work, but she made it in half the time... If you're gonna quit, do it in style ...she thought, and opened the three locks at her small studio. The hovel was illegal because it had no shower, no tub, no heat, no closet and not even those locks protected her. But it was cheap. Ellen had books and clothes piled on wood-and-brick shelves, a futon, a few more items and a fat Siamese, Horace, to keep her warm.

Ellen tore open the carton of Marlboros she bought... Shit, I forgot to get a lighte

Pewter Language"What is Skype?
"A new sorta' tripe?
"And what is Twitter?
"A new kinda' critter?

"Can we have them here for dinner?"

"Nay!" they say,
"Those are keen,
"They talk a lot see,
"Not only to you
"And not only to me."

"What is Dancing
"With The Stars?
"Is it a chance
"For us to reach Mars?

"Can we land there in a rocket?"

"Nay!" they say,
"That is keen,
"That is Reality see,
"It's not planets
"Can't you let it be?"

"What is Wi-fi?
"Brand new questions?
"What is iPod?
"Last suggestions?

"Can we have them here for fun?"

"Yay!" they say,
"Those are keen,
"They're very fun most definitely!
"Full-time all-day fool-proof Now

A Puppeteer and Amoeba ArgueA new young woman entered the man's life, and she married him too.
His ex-wife knew and sliced the strings the man still spun to surround her.

The ex-wife told the man, "You call me daily. I'm no puppet for you. Your calls are untrue."
The man said, "But I love your voice. I can't give you up. Don't you know I love you?"

She said, "Don't call me. It's not fair to your wife. It's not kind and it causes strife."
He said, "She doesn't mind. She knows our history. It's longer than her little life."

The man said, "I think about you. I need to know where you are. How will I know you're fine?"
She replied, "I'm in my NOW. I know where I

Sister Mary, Quite Contrary Like most of them, she didn't really walk. It's true nuns seemed to use roller skates instead of feet. They snuck up behind students and often hit them on the head with a book if they wanted to. In those days such things didn't matter. Anyway, my folks paid a pretty penny for me to attend that school. They had no complaints, so I couldn't complain either.

Sister Mary taught English. She happened to teach me English two years in a row. Sister Mary was very big on diagramming sentences. Students had to write a sentence on the blackboard and use white chalk to put nouns, verbs and thei

Word War     Brian meant to lose the game, though he knew Dad wanted him to win. He often won, but he didn't want to now. Brian was twelve and tired of playing kids in his group, mostly girls. Tall, clear-eyed girls, awkward, and much more competitive than Brian. He won anyway.
     "Are you studying the OSPD?" Dad said.
     They were going to the auditorium.
     "Of course," Brian said.
     He lied.

     Though he held the book, he'd gutted the 'Official Scrabble Players Dictionary

Sassy Does It     A glitter arc of light of LSD showed me what happened.

     Acid helped me get along with my on-and-off (best?) friend. Her nickname's Sassy. I robbed my new name from Cher. I robbed Cher's long-black-hair look too. Sassy had natural beauty. Sometimes I was (sick-jealous) envious of her. Other times I stayed away and thought maybe Shirley (my real name) was (hmm...eh) okay. Everyone called me Cher at school so (I guessed) it was too late.

     Sassy's like her name. She ditched her real one ages ago. "Susan" (never) didn't work.

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

#theWrittenRevolution
The words are the spark.

#Word-Smiths

#WritersInk
What's your story?

#Poets-N-Prose

#SimplyGoodPoetry
Poetry is Key

#vicious-verse
we must integrate the shadow

#A-Fistful-Of-Pages

#Elocutionists
Artists of the Spoken Word

Details

Submitted: July 4, 2012
File Size: 1.2 KB

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 284
Favourites: 60 [who?]
Views: 2,102 (0 today)
Downloads: 7 (0 today)

License

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.

[x]

The Perversity of We

by *xlntwtch, Jul 4, 2012, 5:15:51 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

Sometimes on a quiet night
due to my perversity,
or perhaps my common nature,
I dream awake of what may happen
should my twin die before me.

I may be walking calm and laughing
down city street or red rock ridge
and she would reach me over the miles
reaching straight to all five senses
reaching intense with her actions
reaching deep inside me.

Stronger than telepathies
often had when we were kids
stronger than futile restlessness
unexplained 'til mail arrives,
stronger than what may surround me
I know how she would reach me.

I would see her clear as day,
clearer than the sights around me
and I'd know her way of going
and how she takes it
and what she knows if she goes.
It would bind, it would blind me,
it would choke me up completely.

I would stumble, likely fall,
and knowing all, be speechless
in the face of reachless
closeness sundered by her pall,
Whatever takes her liveliness
I couldn't stand it at all.

The Perversity of Weby *xlntwtch

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

_{Some of this poem was already published in the now defunct "WordWorks." Think of reading it at a poetry slam at a fairly fast clip -- mostly.
Edits: 12/21/12

for #theWrittenRevolution - [link]

1) Suggestions about rhythm are welcome: please read aloud.
2) So is 'lit crit' about content and a comment about possible delivery.
3) Hope you read it aloud for the entire experience and then comment. But it's up to you.
4) Are there loose ends I missed?
5) Can you picture me picturing this? I really am an identical twin. Is the description enough?

...without my permission...

#ScreamPrompts#WritersInkScout#Word-Smiths#Poets-N-Prose#Critique-It#GetWatchersMod
=DailyLitDeviationsProse#theWrittenRevolution#TheMysteryGuild#Unconventional-Story#1001Critiques#A-Fistful-Of-Pages}

Critique by =heronwolf Dec 26, 2012, 6:47:14 AM

First off I'd like to say I very much enjoyed the poem. I thought it was gripping the more I read and thought it very interesting as far as the twins thing goes.

Personally I'm not sure about the three reaching passages. I would use different words in place of three times reaching, but I can see why the way it is now seems nice too.

I thought the fourth stanza could be improved a little bit. The 'and how she takes it' part seems off. The last two sentences of the stanza however are very nice. The fifth stanza is my favourite, think it goes well with the whole poem and also has a nice flow.

As with many things, poetry is relative, so these are just my thoughts. Well done!

What do you think?

Fair Unfair

The Artist thought this was FAIR

2 out of 2 deviants thought this was fair.

1 Reply

Devious Rating

Vision

Originality

Technique

Impact