tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35592748501713020402024-03-07T22:41:33.560-08:00The Libertinathe meanderings of the weird girlCarissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-85737365238341749132011-06-12T21:39:00.001-07:002011-06-12T21:39:23.963-07:00Teenage Panic Attack<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Every young girl has a chip on their shoulder, thinking privacy is a God-given right. Invasion via stepmom is a major violation, anger is self-righteous. How dare you, crystal said to her stepmother when she found her snooping through her bedroom dresser. The one with all of the her things – plastic jewelry, love letters, and for ever – growing collection of bras. The one crystals now deceased mother painted a dusty pale pink color when she was getting the nursery together for crystals arrival-- the same pink of her now retired , stretched out, stained training bras. These bras are never seen by the boys she had slept with, the hooks never loosened by the quick and sweaty hands of immature playboys. Like Dylan who after weeks of being manager at Medusa’s Pizzeria found his way into her white Guess jeans, which she had purchased just for that evening. Before Dylan arrived she helped Evie her roommate get ready for her date , Crystal’s hidden dimples visible die to her inability to hide her shit-eating grin. Teasing emus fair she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror craning her neck for the anticipation of necking with Dylan. Crystal took the wraps Holcomb and rapidly brushed his thin blonde hair into a bouffant, a technique she had practice on a little girl she once babysat. "He's all right?" Asked Evie. Crystal made an enthusiastic “mm-hmm” while shielding Evie’s broad forehand with hand from the clouds of Aquanet<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she sprayed to hold the hair in place. </div><div class="MsoNormal">After Evie left for her date, the dimples on Crystal space relax as her mouth smoothed into a soft pout. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dylan arrived, he knocked on the door, the sound making her vibrate. The underwire bra she bought this fortnight felt right and tight as if it structured down to the moment, so her heart wouldn't fly out of her chest leaving behind a young beautiful shell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stood <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in that small between the front door and the kitchen, that dusty pale pink come over her. She felt soft inside like strawberry frozen yogurt in white paper cup, strawberry flavor spreading over her red wet tongue. Taking a step forward then standing on her tiptoes she looked through the peep hole. She could feel Dylan's cool cerulean blue energy but all she could see was the dark green shrubs surrounding the walkway. He focused squinting her left still nothing. Jolted by the sound of Dylan's pacing steps she looked harder. She could his face, wide and shiny face still handsome and clean looking even with the unflattering widening from the peephole lenses. Before unlocking the door, she could feel something inside of her, something approaching yet ancient , something smooth yet rough, piercing yet welcomed, a tender violation. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-43897277859801146102011-05-04T22:49:00.000-07:002011-05-04T22:49:54.117-07:00Instead of Disappearing...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">One day Willow read a book that told her that she was merely just watching her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like everything that happened to her was a television program or a motion picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then it clicked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every time she watched Ghost World , she felt<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a sadness when Enid Coleslaw got on the bus and left forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bitter feeling of loss stuck with her for days after watching the VHS she played every so often as she folded laundry. </div><div class="MsoNormal">If her life was merely something she watched , she longed to change the channel. She looked everywhere for the remote control. Under couch cushions, under the armoire, in the fridge. There was a little bit of anxiety here if not urgency .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then she started looking in weird places like in the backseat of the car of the guy she was fucking every once a week or so. He would wonder why she, naked with his oyster inside of her , needed to look for anything after he gave her his righteous animal sex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She started looking for it in the front yard as she pulled weeds by the roots. She felt such natural violence would make this remote appear. She looked in bottles of muscle relaxers. She felt the remote in her hands but she never quite wanted to grasp it at that point. </div><div class="MsoNormal">She became lazy and stopped looking for it. She thought about it from time to time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wondered why the guy she fucked never called her back and thought maybe she should talk to him again. He might have hidden this remote. He said he didn’t have it and thought she was one of the strangest girls that wouldn’t let him fuck her up the ass. He tried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next time she saw him he tried again. She said<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it hurt when he tried to stick his dick in her ass , he spit on his dick and stuck it in slowly and continued . She turned around and punched him. He smiled and then she got dressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He dropped her off and there was the remote glimmering on the bridge she lived next to. She could see it in the twilight of the moon . He speed off and she walked to the bridge, mesmerized by the device that would change the boredom of her own existence. </div><div class="MsoNormal">At the bridge time slowed down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Late night traffic created some sort of congratulatory whistle of success in finding the remote control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she got closer to the remote her many hearts fell into her stomach and then shifted around her lungs. She felt like she had pulled a muscle, she was so excited. As she bent down to retrieve the remote control it fell in the water. She jumped in after it , the water stung her skin. Her skull was crushed in sections and she searched for it blindly in the water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bones were broken and she gasped for air. Something hit her in the chest. It felt natural. Like it was herself collapsing from the inside out. She was fascinated with the feeling and everything changed, everything turned to static. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div></div>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-43098392323555441542011-03-10T20:19:00.000-08:002011-03-10T20:20:43.428-08:00Meeting Someone New<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Meeting someone new, walking inside his head is like finding yourself in a deserted apartment. All of the furniture scooted up against the wall. This is when you put on your loverface.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Loverface is hard to capture, once you get her , she is hard to get rid of. According to her parents, he’s a very nice guy. But she never met the person they are mentioning, who fucks girls in his barn and let his chickens watch . Sometimes the rooster pecks at a girl and she cries and leaves with little feathers in her hair. Loverface thinks this is in bad taste. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">But his loverface is the size of a dinner plate. Is there anything better than to compare it to something you can eat off of? A lady all bent up and chopped up in a suitcase. She is alive again. Revived through the thought of loverface. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Her ass is like no other ass and more of a platter than a plate. Slap it and she will call you “daddy”. Let’s take care of things here. No other chance or option than to get a little sweaty and let the aftertaste make all the wrong choices for you. This is when loverface is surprised to be around like she had come into something she just didn’t want. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Sometimes you find loverface in unusual places. A party where I find him in a wide hallway with his pants around his ankles. He has on his loverface. Teeth showing and hair grown out. He looks at loverface. She looks back not sure I have my loverface on. He is leaning on a china cabinet. The silver rattles inside when he shifts his weight, his bare ass pressed against the drywall. Loverface has never known of such a man to lean on a piece of furniture when there is fun to have for just a song. Yeah loverface might leave him and eat a bowl of rabbit stew. But I snoop through the china cabinet instead talking to him and his loverface. He says something and squeezes a handful of her ass leaving it red. Everyone leaves the party feeling wet and bruised, except this party in the hallway. Loveface, he says to pretend to acknowledge her as she slams all the drawers and cabinets shut. He pulls up his pants, as he zips he said “loverface”. He and everyone else know about it, not because you are talking about loverface but because everyone can see her glowing about. </span></div>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-88897900179652618082011-02-16T23:23:00.000-08:002011-02-16T23:23:05.054-08:00Pretty in OklahomaA freckle on the breast<br />
Cleavage to the double chin <br />
Bad posture <br />
A wicked smile<br />
A little voice <br />
Moaning back <br />
And forth <br />
She is no pixie<br />
But wants to carry the pollen <br />
On her gentle soft wings<br />
She is pretty in Oklahoma<br />
Her shoulders and boulders <br />
Stretching <br />
The fabric <br />
Of the costume<br />
She is low down<br />
She moves the heart<br />
And meat in heat <br />
Waiting for something <br />
Better<br />
Cause it’s not enough<br />
Pale and red headed<br />
Flat forehead <br />
In mosaic <br />
She can make <br />
You feel betterCarissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-45121499038598738432010-12-07T18:27:00.001-08:002010-12-07T18:27:55.921-08:00Jeffery’s Rubber TreeImagine a rubber tree starting its life in a large greenhouse in Louisiana. It started as merely a bulb in a long row of other rubber trees. It is tended by Helena Whitman, a woman who has worked at the greenhouse for thirteen years. The rubber tree grew enough to be placed in a temporary pot till it’s shipped to another facility in Indiana where it is permanently potted into a ceramic pot that is painted a deep cerulean blue. It is then shipped to an Ace Hardware in Cincinnati, Ohio. The quality top soil used at the facility in Indiana allowed the rubber tree to be slightly neglected. However, the plant started to wither and was put on sale. A young blond man bought it. When the blond man and the rubber tree arrive at his apartment, he places the rubber tree under a window on a decorative pedestal that looks like a short Roman column. The rubber tree flourished under the light and the blond man is very attentive to the rubber tree, watering it regularly and sprinkling a bit of nutrients in the top soil ever month or two. In that state the rubber tree became aware of his setting, it felt healthier. The rubber tree thrived in the thick air. Air that seems to carrying around particles of something decomposing. The rubber tree was annoyed by the copious amount of flies, but at ease when the flies die and fall in the tops soil. Their decomposing bodies nourished the rubber tree all the more.<br />
Imagine the rubber plant observing the blond man taking nude photos of young skinny black men on his sofa. Sometimes the plant was in the range of the camera and felt slightly self-conscious, hoping it is glossy and green enough to look good in the photos. Later the he noticed that these men that the blond man have on his couch are like the flies that decompose in its top soil. He wondered if the blond man is nourished by these men in a way similar to how the rubber tree is nourished, because the rubber tree sees theses men being consumed by the blond man. Soon these men are completely gone and metabolized by the blond man. There are so many that the rubber tree became jealous, the blond man didn’t sprinkle the pack of nutrients into his top soil this month. One of the men that the blond man brought over touched the rubber trees leafs. The rubber tree didn’t like it when one of the men stuck his long brown finger into its soil. The tree felt violated and didn’t warn him of the danger of the blond man.<br />
Imagine the back of a moving truck. The rubber tree sits for a few hours while men in white hazmat suits take things out of the apartment. The rubber tree felt sick to be out of its environment. It wasn’t been watered in a few days and misses the blond man . It hasn’t had the nutrient packet and doesn’t like the darkness of the moving truck. The rubber tree is moved into a box then is put outside in a pit along with other things that smell of the blond man and his apartment. It was very cold and dark, the rubber tree almost froze before a fat woman with thick glasses and a frizzy auburn hair takes the rubber tree. She huffed away as she ran with it, some of the soil fell out on the concrete sidewalks and asphalt parking lots. She placed the rubber tree near a window when she got to her house, all the rubber tree saw and felt was the darkness it was taken out of. She waters it and caresses it leafs. The rubber tree missed the blond man. Every person that looked at the rubber tree stuck their finger in the soil. “It was HIS plant, from HIS apartment” she says. The rubber tree got used to the finger poking and started to enjoy it. The woman sprinkles in the nutrient packet and waters it. She took photos of the rubber tree; it feels better and recovers from its longing for the blond man. It watches the woman consuming a lot of things while she watches the television, where the blond man is catatonic and unaware of the rubber tree. The rubber tree became bored with the woman; it began to stare out into the darkness of the night.Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-9987629543175265962010-07-18T16:38:00.001-07:002010-07-18T16:38:32.106-07:00I will never again go out with another person that tells me about how many abortions his ex had due to his distaste of condoms. I feel very sad for this girl and wish I could cuddle her at night so she doesn’t have to be haunted by this dude that we both idiotically shared. Lord knows it was a good choice on her behalf to scrape out his seed from her poor uterus , but his selfishness is on the evil slime bag side. I’ve always had a taste for the dark side but he pushed it to limits.Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-43806824425619310712010-07-15T18:08:00.000-07:002010-07-15T18:09:14.887-07:00Officially depressed ...againCarissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-24387714786859731452010-07-15T00:58:00.000-07:002010-07-15T01:04:47.301-07:00There is nothing betterThere is nothing better than a little bruise left from a lovebite. There is nothing better than a bearded lover that looks like something out of your meanderings of the ways things fit together. There is nothing better than a large mushroom growing quietly in a field of cotton . There is nothing better feeling a kimono that wraps around and inside you. There is nothing better than his black hair , dark and shocking as electric wire.Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-10001879026563351292010-06-14T21:40:00.000-07:002010-06-14T21:41:16.122-07:00Dinky the HunchbackIt’s like the past comes to bite you in the ass so hard. A past that wasn’t but a week ago. You think you’re over someone and blam , they pull you right back into their mess. Then when they’re done with you they eject you. How many times do I make up these sex rules for myself and them just break them. I’m feeling a little Holden Caulfield than anything these days . Slightly psychopathic in a very mild mannered way. It’s not that I want to hurt people. I just don’t want to be hurt. I think when it comes to love this is the mantra of the men I date. I feel like I’m holding onto these people like a somewhat empty tube of toothpaste. I’m just hoping to squeeze just a bit more love even though it seems like there is less and less every day. I keep squeezing, say a prayer , and get looks from people when I tell them about my beloved tube of toothpaste. <br />Freaks. I think these are the kinds of people that will love me. I’m so complicated and messed up that if what was on the inside was on the outside , I would be a carnie. Like seriously. Dinky the Hunchback. <br /><br />It sucks the all this pain a person has to endure in order to maintain their belief in love. How many times can a person have their hearts broken before they just say fuck it or they are so stingy with their love that it has to be pried out of them. Am I hanging on to bits just so I can feel the occasional rush of love when I’m with this person? History shows yes indeed. Stomp all over my heart, I’ll hate you for a little bit and then love you again in a matter of time. It sucks feeling so deeply while wanting to make others happy. It’s like learning tightrope walk. You’re always falling and hurting, but no matter what you want to make it to the other side without breaking something. I want to videotape my heart falling in and out of love , does change color like a mood ring. Just ever so slightly. Right now it would be that awkward brown that is like indifference mixed with hope, is that possible? I think so because that is how I feel. Not tonight, not 100%.Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-20348514759385546962010-05-28T02:24:00.000-07:002010-05-28T02:25:22.140-07:00<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">This is just to say that I crave Nirvana <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">No I'm not in need of hearing the lat and great Kurt Cobain screech about the injustices of the world. </span><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">I want Nirvana as it is define as being the wanting of nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">I want to not want <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">where does a person start with that ?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Is it pure Buddhist logic to think of things like this<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">I'm always wanting constantly<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">since I could remember I wanted things<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">I used to fantasize about having the prettiest pinkest puffiest dressed Barbie when I was a girl<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">now it's men and makeup and clothes<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">I love them all but she i didn't<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">I'm not merely speaking of buyer’s remorse<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">it's a lot more than that. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">It like I’ve put negative energy into the universe every time I don’t get these things<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Am I spoiled<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">I think I was <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">I have a lot <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Not as much as a lot of people <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">But definitely more that I need<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">And these decision I make buying and indulging these desires never manifest in satisfaction.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">May be every time I fall in love<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">May be every time I buy something I don’t need<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">I lose something of myself<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";color:black">Nirvana please grace me with your presence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-70758984675911889202009-05-08T20:08:00.000-07:002009-05-08T20:10:33.492-07:00Gray’s Anatomy<p><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;"></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;"><b>Organs of Special Senses</b></span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;">I see and hear the silence before he overfills the room with anger. I enjoy the seconds of quiet and ignore the stare that could cover me in rashes. In my face , I see and hear him , my ears ring with the repetition of “fuck you” , my eyes water and I retch , vomit on the hardwood floor. I see it, an orange brown puddle. I leave it there for him to slip on. </span><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;"><b>The Female Organs of Generation </b></span><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;">Inside it is soft as fleece; it could stay forever, as it might. The baby , that is born in my dreams . silent but alive in my arms. Fatherless and fearless we carry on together . Our utopia , we are pale beauties that look like creatures underwater. Perfect clear eyes stare and seek comfort and small hands clutch my hair as we journey through the capricious landscapes. I wrap the baby in a shawl of yellow satin and wool . It coos and pouts, I wake to empty arms and a longing that remains inside. </span><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;"><b>Embryology </b></span><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;">My father was gone during my gestation. He left my mom alone with her mother while he was strung out on coke and whiskey with his brothers. He lost his tractor repair business and filed bankruptcy while I grew inside my mother. Every dollar my father made was snorted up his nose as my mom decorated the insides of house with slate blue, brown, and brass fixtures. I was planned she told me. Not well enough I thought.<br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;">Written: </span><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;">March 26, 2009</span></p>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-23683194273785767652009-05-08T20:04:00.000-07:002009-05-08T20:08:38.969-07:00Harvest Goat<p><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;"></span><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;">Hoping for better weather, they slaughtered the goat but left the one-legged virgin alive, to forever wait for marriage. She saved herself convincing the elders that a goat is sturdier and more able bodied to climb the stones steps above where the gods of harvest stir and take only pitiful pleas and moans of desperation.<br /></span></p><p><br /></p><p align="right"><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;">Written: </span><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;">March 26, 2009</span></p>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-70621976170136615472009-05-08T20:03:00.000-07:002009-05-11T13:25:07.502-07:00Half a Mind<p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:180%;" ><b></b></span><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Waiting on a wizard to undo what is wrong </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >To split a spirit into two </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Logic and magic</span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >To be harmonious and amorous </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Without ground to do so </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Saying and praying akin to</span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >The bird on the branch that sings to soft air </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >With a potion to disrupt this rigid policy of living </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Unbind sins and mix with virtuous </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Can you spot a variation?</span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Stay stray and it might occur </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Matching spirits all of us </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Us, fighting and spotting the unusual </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >To watch this saintly spoil </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Is brutal </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Stitch our spirits back, a poor wizard is worn out </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Coming into and backing out of dark and light </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >A balance of insight in twilight </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >A rotation of truth </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >a solitary solution </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >As all turn to not just our natural world </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >But to the amorphous wisdom</span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >To fair this world </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Would transform man and woman </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >A will full of atoms </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Brain and brawn away </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Into what is always </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Magic and logic </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Wizard and witch </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Child and fairy </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >Animal and plant </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >pit and dirt </span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >All us and you </span></p> <span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >The obvious and<br /><br />The oblivious<br /></span><br />Written: <span style=";font-family:Cambria;font-size:100%;" >February 8, 2009</span>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-45406308932001207112009-05-07T12:56:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:57:11.807-07:00For my Valentine<!--- blog subject ---> <!--- blog body ---> <div id="pBlogBody_357868161" class="blogContent"> I feel like :<br /><br />Once a piece of my valentine heart flew from my chest<br />Landed in front of me<br />and grew<br />Into him<br />he is a redwood tree<br />strong and fragrant<br />a Smooth long branch<br />Glistening with dew<br />Towering so gently<br />wrapping me in warmth greater than the sun<br />The wind blows through<br />Leafs loosen and memories fall<br />I pick them up and make a bed for us<br />Lovers lying on the forest floor<br />Nesting birds chirp in delight to see love like that<br />They know he will always be there<br />A tree made of lost love and romance reanimated<br />Like no other<br />Together<br />We grow into eachother<br /><br /><br />Written: February 14, 2008 </div>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-84202398320049811902009-05-07T12:52:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:53:56.281-07:00no distance between<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Euphoric in the Name of you</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">I want you</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">You got me.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Feel magic</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Running my fingers </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Under your waistband</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Positive</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">And a little insecure</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">I see you...</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">In the future </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">You </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Me</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">And happiness </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">A welcome mat to </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Love </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">I feel the grit and the comfort of reaching home</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Only familiar in dreams</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Built on what I thought were lies</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Fables of greatness</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Musing of men </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">No truth in bashings.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Fights </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">I welcome</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Goodness never comes out</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Calmness</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Where passion is absent</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Put out</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Patootie to my cutie…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Your heads…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">The salt and sensation of both </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Carouse </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">I find all things erect in the presence of such </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Consumptions </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">No sugar added...</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">But still sweet as all hell and the heaven </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Where love rests.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Mourn both </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Bitter </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Sweet</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Thick and thin</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Eyebrows </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Dance </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">As they both watch in aye</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Friends </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Lovers</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Take me to a hidden place</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Where passion lies naked</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">And waiting </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Tension builds </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Lubing tight spots with</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Neck kisses and hickies that</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">The sensitive skin is grateful for.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">A journal of self and interest</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Rest in meows and barks</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">We. Products of</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">Domestic beasts </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">And nutriment</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;">To make our own.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#333333;"> Written: September 11, 2007 - Tuesday <br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br /></p>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-8426409850963739312009-05-07T12:50:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:52:09.903-07:00random but thoughtful<!--- blog subject ---><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#999999;">Withdrawal from</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#999999;">The smell of gold</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#999999;">And blood, bold red</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#999999;">To be invisible dust that settles</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#999999;">Disappear into</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#999999;">Teak of chopsticks</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#999999;">In cracks and splitters </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#999999;">I rest </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#999999;">To be the invisible</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#999999;">To the carousing</span></p> <span style="color:#999999;">And the erect<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>Written: June 6, 2007Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-50036186993235157602009-05-07T12:48:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:50:53.613-07:00mintou<span style="color:#3366ff;">There is a moral dilemma at hand<br />Always it seems<br />That dust turns to dirt<br />And I'm once again<br />Cleaning up after a mess<br />I feel I didn't make<br />Vague and misunderstood<br />Where did I meet you?<br />May be at the mall<br />Where teenage girls<br />Shop and sulk<br />Mystery and faintness<br />Collide here<br />Under all things I know<br />Its there<br />Waiting to be unwrapped<br />The only gift I feel I shake<br />Too often<br />Impatient and quiet<br />I feel I didn't make<br />The cut<br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Written: April 6, 2007</span><br /></span>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-64196431194464647402009-05-07T12:47:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:48:53.648-07:00random thought<!--- blog subject ---> <div class="blogSubject"> I remember how hard is to smile sometimes</div> <!--- blog body ---> <div id="pBlogBody_225529021" class="blogContent"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">And the only times I can is when I think of something really funny I witnessed</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">You never make me laugh hard on purpose and that worries me</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Yet , I still smile because I just feel like it. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">My eyes are happy to see you<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Written: February 3, 2007</p></div>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-2093112544490785142009-05-07T12:44:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:46:28.863-07:00Ideology of an idealist<div style="text-align: center;"> Variations of lovers<br />It's hard to change sweet habits.<br />Time doesn't heal as good<br />As another variation does.<br />It's so much eaiser to have<br />others lick your wounds<br />Scar tissue softens when wet<br />it's stings less , than when alone<br />unwrap the gaze and<br />face the sound<br />of the white noise of a dial tone<br />then growl of a sports car<br />and the swoosh of a revolving door<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Written: March 16, 2006</div></div><div> </div><div style="text-align: right;"> </div><div style="text-align: right;"> </div><div style="text-align: right;"> </div><div style="text-align: right;"> </div><div style="text-align: right;"> </div><div style="text-align: right;"> </div><div style="text-align: right;"> </div><div style="text-align: right;"> </div>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-68649769674583438282009-05-07T12:38:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:40:23.128-07:00The Prince of Shy<div id="pBlogBody_113862399" class="blogContent"> <h1 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;"></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">She walks across the room </span></h1> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">He watches and wonders</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">Somewhere </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">A piano is playing, a tune</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">To fall in love to<br />He hears the tune</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">Looks down</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">At his folded hands and then</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">Feels his closed mouth</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;color:#006600;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">She walks out of the room </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">And the piano stops</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">Playing somewhere</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">But continues to play </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">in his thoughts</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">The violins start and stop</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">As she enters the room </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">Again, he looks for eye</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">Contact. He craves </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">Only a Smile,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Courier New, Courier, mono;font-size:100%;color:#006600;">Even it's smug.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Written:April 24, 2006</span></p></div>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-57787498079895845702009-05-07T12:36:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:38:28.050-07:00the lonely smokers club<div class="blogTimeStamp"> June 10, 2006 - Saturday </div> <table class="blog" border="0" width="100%" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody><tr><td width="30"><br /></td> <td> <!--- blog subject ---> <div class="blogSubject"> In this vessel of life I have carried all of you inside me. </div> <!--- blog body ---> <div id="pBlogBody_131281595" class="blogContent"> <p>What makes the salt of your tears and the brain that imagines my end . </p> <p>You don;t know us very well </p> <p>My favorite color isn't yellow </p> <p>and I secertly hate flowers and nursery rhymes. </p> <p>He wanted to be cowboy but he settled to be a cotton farmer. </p> <p>We will watch you all and know you better someday.</p> <p>Some of you will fight and some of you will write </p> <p>either way your hearts will break</p> <p>even if you don;t know it. </p> <p>You will carry eachother in this year.</p> <p>As all I can do is lay now </p> <p>and watch the sunshine peak through the vertical blinds. </p> <p>My babies, your memories of me will nurture you</p> <p>and hold you when you can't hug me </p> <p>Remeber them, </p> <p>I didn't say that for nothing.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Written: June 10, 2006 </p></div></td></tr></tbody></table>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-79732084300760310782009-05-07T12:35:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:36:36.558-07:00beyond blood and guts<!--- blog subject ---> <!--- blog body ---> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#33ffff;">The sound of your heavy breathe I long to hear.</span> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#663300;">The sight of your hairy chest I long to see</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style=""></span> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#ffffcc;"><span style=""> </span>The tang of your salt I long to taste</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#ffcccc;"><span style=""> </span>The pulse of your smothest muscle I long to feel</span></p> <p><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span></span></p> <span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style=""> </span><span style="color:#ff6666;">Oh</span>,<span style="color:#ff9966;"> welcome </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">me</span><span style="color:#66ff99;"> to </span><span style="color:#33ffff;">your</span> <span style="color:#9999ff;">senses</span><span style="color:#ff99ff;"> too</span></span><br /><br /><br />written: March 15, 2006Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-71932414168672709932009-05-07T12:33:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:35:29.992-07:00NAME<!--- blog subject ---> <div class="blogSubject"> <span style="color:#99ffff;"><span style="background-color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><strong>C</strong>an't</span></span></div> <!--- blog body ---> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#99ffff;"><span style="background-color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><strong>A</strong>ct</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#99ffff;"><span style="background-color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><strong>R</strong>ational </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#99ffff;"><span style="background-color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><strong>I</strong>n</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#99ffff;"><span style="background-color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><strong>S</strong>uch</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#99ffff;"><span style="background-color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><strong>S</strong>essions of </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color:#99ffff;"><span style="background-color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><strong>A</strong>ffection</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">You know those little poems that you wrote in middle school/high school like this. What if you turned in a poem like this then? <span style=""> </span>Do you think your English teacher would be slightly seduced?</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">written: March 14, 2006</p>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-19152157431138090302009-05-07T12:32:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:33:49.127-07:00lost at home<span><span style="color:#000000;">Sitting in a room shaded from the sunlight. Champagne pink afternoon sunshine is projected on the wall. It looks and feels like art. I don’t want to shut the door as I listen to Mazzy Star. I wonder what you are doing right now; maybe you see the same square of sunshine on your wall. It’s better than stars— a sunrise .. or sunset, which I never see .<br /><br />Written: </span></span>December 16, 2005Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3559274850171302040.post-83169442972775990422009-05-07T12:29:00.000-07:002009-05-07T12:32:03.904-07:00Rant<div id="pBlogBody_39710034" class="blogContent"><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I find myself bored and used up . The stars are dull .. and my organs feel oily . I feel like I missed my flight….i get butterflies in my stomach that turn into nausea . All I want is closure… </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Yet I’m being kept<span style=""> </span>away from it… </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I’m in a glass case of emotion … </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Laughing is okay .. but not as real as it used to be … </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I hate when people tell<span style=""> </span>me to smile… like you’re automatically supposed to do it… </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Smiles don’t look good on me.. and apparently that’s a problem .. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">From my experience, most people aren’t as nice as they seem.. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">If someone is an asshole to you once.. they will most likely be an asshole to you again… </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I never want an accountant or a lawyer…. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Pouring your heart out only results in heartbreak.. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I want to leave my body…..</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I tried of looking away … </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I want to clean my room and stop lying.. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">What do people see when they look at me .. and why don’t they answer my questions.. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Why are teachers the only ones who seem to answer them … maybe because they’re <span style=""> </span>forced to </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Thoughts run through my head during the day, the foot-in- mouth treacherous gut feeling.. can be overwhelming.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Why do I feel like I need to write this</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">…..I want a beer</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">written: August 3, 2005 </p></div>Carissa Jane Mansfieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15463717701036108308noreply@blogger.com0