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About Literature / Student Simone ParkerFemale/United States Groups :iconpoetry-4ever: Poetry-4ever
 
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Deviant for 6 Years
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Literature
The Nature of Abandonment
The snow melted in the morning
and though the proof lay in our sodden shoes,
we began to wonder if it had ever snowed
at all.
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Literature
Thermodynamics
The 2nd Law of Thermodynamics says
that there is a tendency for disorder
to increase
Nature is not symmetric
Systems move from order to disorder
Heat flows from a hotter body to a colder body
There is a limit to efficiency
There will always be waste
It will never be perfect
3rd Law: Absolute zero is Utopia
No disorder
No destruction
Still, perfectly crystallized.
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Literature
30 Compressions 2 Breaths
The CPR I'd been administering for
three years (we learned in
health class, remember?)
finally broke my hands today
(your ribs gave in
long ago but
I wasn't giving up on your lungs).
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Literature
Collect Call From Chicago to Minneapolis
Dear I
am trying
to hold you from four hundred miles
away, but words only
travel so
far. I was just
hoping to make you some
sweet kind of happy or at least some
kind of
not sad anymore.
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Literature
Drafts
Listen, I hate you
or
I thought
Listen, I don't think a lot about
how my voice sounded on
your tongue but
Listen, I miss
you
Now I guess that's all there is
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Literature
To Be Read Between Kisses
We kiss like we're slow dancing
a quiet waltz--
one-two-three
beating out the syllables of our names,
light steps mimicking
the flickering
beneath our eyelids.
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Literature
Rachel, Who Always Answers the Phone
Gravel crunch beneath my bare
feet;  foot-breaking gravel, skin-splitting gravel.
I pulled out the old concrete
path in my backyard. Rachel
filled it with gravel;
toe-stabbing gravel, mind-wincing gravel.
Rachel shushes me; the phone is ringing
and she wants to hear it bleat.
What sounds like mechanics to me (I picture
digital cogs) sounds like
music to her and she dances
on the gravel; heart thumping gravel;
lip-chapping gravel.
I bite my lip; I bite her lip.
Make her bleed, rub the wound in the
gravel; cut-stinging gravel; kiss-ending gravel.
Stomp on her head ‘til she
can’t hear the phone ring; I
can’t hear the phone ring;
only the crunch of her ear in the
gravel; deafening gravel;
death-calling gravel.
Brrrring.
“Hello this is Rachel.”
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Mature content
Deja Vu :iconthe-virgin-suicide:The-Virgin-Suicide 2 1
Literature
Officiously
Drop the partition please.
New York Times reporters tell me I am pushing against a glass ceiling; I tell them
I am pushing against their publication.
Black ink newsprint rubbing off on my skin: I've been
fingerprinted.
Hold up my hands
you will see I have been branded.
I am searching for a space that is mine.
I sleep with my back to the wall, kiss the feet of my history professor,
bend my back to make the arch of a viaduct.
Beauty standards pinch. My skin,
wedged painfully between my sharp spine
and the hard floor.
Compliment? Hardly.
I break the fourth wall every time only to find
there's no one watching. Eliminating words
I do not need I
try to find a platform. Fall
when my foot rises higher than the ground I am preparing to step on.
And when I rise I
cannot see my audience, only my soapbox.
Long dividers between their fifth grade classroom and mine.
Death is liquid. The unrepresentation. The loss and lack.
You have to be your own mafia.
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Literature
Missing E
Tumblr: a whole new species. Watch, it becomes overridden with
anxiety and it’s doomsday in your room. Your useless content exceeds people who wore leggings as pants:
I’m smarter, I read, I’m watching you, I’m never leaving.
They take us to worlds and you’re left
pounding, teenage girls bumping into corners, stuck in the vending machine, hissing at sunlight. I am
cruel, tired.
I'm an adult. I always stay indoors. I
show up
and curse how uncool I am: the scariest thing when mature and
(trying to be) self-sufficient. My life is children’s
cartoons;
humor of humor;
ice cream out of the tub;
a whole inside joke;
the club like if there’s no food but leggings.
You’re grounded.
Everyone tries to do things: doesn’t do things.
Two arms two legs
their mass and child, their firstborn.
A man, genuinely sorry for the people, sometimes comments that
I am way too emotionally invested in Teen Mom 2.
If what I lack in attractiveness is the weirdest
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Literature
On Sluts
For now, they are sluts. They're other various body parts, meat
Hint: it's not basics, your ass in
Reaction unacceptable. If you, the one
we will do them perched on a piece
marinate and grill
dumb sluts, we've already
relegated to just not and sit perched on a piece of garlic toast
dress slutty, you show off the goods and eat it too, wave
better at sex We are
into. First
covered this. But the stupidity of their attack men currently live
oblivious, impersonate, don't marinate and
grill yourself on fake sexual revolution
you will pretend you show off the
outcry
Hint: it's not new or shocking to the
actual sluts, alas
going to stare at you pumped
full of lead and be
happy
go visit dealing boyfriends on a piece
get slutty and our face, we will do them.
Cause isn't knowing.
Remember that when you turn another. Of course,
for the reality that we're bigger dumb
(and) let's get to the sluts without actually wanting an easy way to be the one you want.
dealing boyfriends get you
down your catcal
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Literature
Leonard
Wrinkled old hands, weary
from the tiring decay, his skin worn
thin and papery, origami creases in his forehead.
My valleyed, smoothed, prairie skin holds contrast
against the rivulets and trenches of his
earthquake hands--
hasn't signed his named without shaking in
years and the last birthday card I have
is barely legible.
He is raspy, breath loud and slow across my face
doesn't sing his Yiddish folk songs
anymore
lungs too weak, voice too lost
he used to call out
TOAAASTEEED MALLOOOOOWS
sing us Dublin tales, spin us heartbreak
from the gates of a liberated concentration camp,
how his fellow Jews fell at his feet,
kissed his hands when they fashioned Hebrew letters
out of the human ash in the air.
He kisses them,
kisses me,
same lips, decades later, and I can still feel
there is smoke on my cheek,
blood and emaciation,
a giant ink spot spreading.
He is an old man in a hospital bed, thinner than I have ever seen him, he is
upright gentleman in business formal on a folding chair in Sedo
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Literature
Sunday Distractions
The carpet in the chapel is stained:
right corner, an inch from the wall, yellowish, like
dried out macaroni puke.
I noticed it yesterday and I’ve been
avoiding that spot ever since but my eyes
are drawn to it like
that McDonalds sign out the window on a long
road trip. I don’t know how it got there or why
no one bothered
cleaning it up. I can’t stop wondering though
is it sacrilege or is it
god’s will.
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Mature content
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Literature
On Washington: A Sestina
She told me to meet her on Washington
at 4. When I was 20 minutes
late she called again and asked
Where are you?—I was nearly on my way—
and I could hear her almost telling me not to
bother but she still loved me then.
I kissed her when I saw her, she wanted to then,
even with the agent—and the homeless—watching on Washington
and I loved her when she didn’t tell me not to.
We stood talking for five minutes
just trying not to talk about the way
she hates it when I’m late and I hate the way she asked—
a demand, and not a question—when she asked
me to meet her then.
The agent showed us the way
to the apartment we were trying to rent—on Washington,
because it was cheap—she said we only had thirty minutes
before we had to
make the decision to
rent it or not so we asked
the agent to leave us alone for a few minutes—
just to talk about it. She left then
and the second she was gone I kissed you there, on Washington
the way
I wan
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Literature
Sunday Afternoon, At Voodoo Doughnuts
You say you'll meet me
at the doughnut shop so I wait in line for
an hour, sweating, to get
one Froot Loop and one chocolate praline that I pay
too much for.
You meet me by the river. I give you a doughnut
you give me handhold. We kiss
in the Saturday market on a Sunday afternoon, at the heart of a city on the border.
We are close enough to Washington to smell the marijuana so
we take a road trip to the border, make love in the forest under
mischievous Puck's sweet spell. You press me against a pine, leave bark patterns
on the skin of my thighs and hands.
We climb rocks that don't look anything
like the faces of presidents--Washington is too scared
to mess with nature, to even make it illegal--and hold hands from either side
of a waterfall
the kind too high to jump from.
In Olympia we try discus throwing
on the lawn of a college campus with a couple kids
whose dreadlocks drip
with rain. We go to Seattle to see the Gas Works
and get lost in the fish market, stuck to a gum wall, climbing
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The-Virgin-Suicide
Simone Parker
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
Now I am quietly waiting for the catastrophe of my personality to seem beautiful again, and interesting, and modern. - Frank O'Hara
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:iconladdster:
laddster Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2014  Student General Artist
Hey there, I was wondering if you would join a contest.


It is for writing so anyone can join and the theme is pretty awesome if I say so myself =p

If you don't want to etc, etc. Then just ignore this message ^^;
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:iconneonsquiggle:
neonsquiggle Featured By Owner Aug 22, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks so much for the favorite!
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:icontoxic-nebulae:
toxic-nebulae Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2013  Student Writer
Happy birthday!
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:iconthe-virgin-suicide:
The-Virgin-Suicide Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you!
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:iconelemist4:
Elemist4 Featured By Owner Jun 11, 2013
I was supposed to sleep but sleep kissed me on the forehead and turned on a laptop. Goodnight~~~~~~~
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:iconthe-virgin-suicide:
The-Virgin-Suicide Featured By Owner Jun 16, 2013  Student Writer
That's a nice image. Goodnight. (she says at 4pm)
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:iconelemist4:
Elemist4 Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2013
I wish it was 4pm now so I could go to sleep. You're on a train in a faraway land and I'm just not sure how tomorrow is going to happen because I'm supposed to wake up at six and that's in like no minutes. For some unknown reason my sleep despairs bring me inexorably to your deviantart....
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:iconthe-virgin-suicide:
The-Virgin-Suicide Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2013  Student Writer
It's because it's so gooood.
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(1 Reply)
:iconpersonalgenius:
PersonalGenius Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2013  Professional Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fave! :)
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:iconpittoredavo:
PittoreDavo Featured By Owner Dec 24, 2012  Professional Traditional Artist
happy holidays!
:iconclop0: :iconfur14:
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