Comments Posted By Isa

Displaying 1 To 30 Of 267 Comments

fun

yoga is fun,dancing around to indie songs is fun,spending time withmy dogs is fun,caring for others is fun,doing my work at my own pace is fun.

» Posted By Isa On 12.06.2018 @ 12:30 am

yoga is fun,dancing around is fun,playing with my sister is fun,doing my homework at my own pace is fun,spending time with dogs and animals is fun,caring for others is fun.

» Posted By Isa On 12.06.2018 @ 12:26 am

shaken

Shaken is a word that causes me to feel shaken in the head, in my thoughts. It reminds me of waking up after a nightmare, of being in the middle of an earthquake, it reminds me of the moment you are told someone you love had just passed away. When something unexpected happens, you feel shaken, it is an inevitable feeling.

» Posted By isa On 03.01.2016 @ 8:09 am

workshop

This word reminds me of wood because we usually take workshop class in school, which is all about wood. However, workshop also means places where one goes to work, knitting workshop, painting workshop, etc. Why when it is bout wood the word “wood” is not necessary but when it is about something else, the subject is necessary?

» Posted By isa On 02.24.2016 @ 7:33 am

encounter

Encounter is a word that has a different significance for different people. It may mean good news or bad news. Your encounter a person you love or you may encounter a scary dictator that want to kill you. Encounter is what drives us to keep on living. Trying to cause encounters of avoid them at all possible costs.

» Posted By isa On 02.23.2016 @ 8:29 am

prove

People live their lives trying to prove everything, their actions, feelings, words, everything and anything they are part of. When really, what need is their to prove anything? Can’t people be just because? Without feeling the need to prove themselves.

» Posted By isa On 02.22.2016 @ 9:53 am

parasite

Aquel joven había sido como un parásito en su vida. Se había pegado a su piel y le había intentado absorber la vida. Fuera, fuera, le había repetido entre gritos y portazos. Entre peleas a las tantas de la madrugadas y los ojos llenos de las lágrimas que no conseguía contener.

» Posted By isa On 04.01.2015 @ 5:54 am

gazing

we seem to gaze
into the rippling surface of
the ocean
like two star-crossed lovers
gazing from
across the pond
it’s wonder that
keeps us rooted to the spot
it’s awe that keeps us from
jumping in
maybe we are star-crossed lovers
gazing into
a bottomless ocean
of bottomless ex-lovers
their mouths gaping
like angler fish
waiting to swallow up
our meager hearts
we gaze into the depths
and wonder what
we’re missing

» Posted By Isa On 08.03.2014 @ 4:52 am

we seem to gaze
into the rippling surface of
the ocean
like two star-crossed lovers
gazing from
across the pond
it’s wonder that
keeps us rooted to the spot
it’s awe that keeps us from
jumping in
maybe we are star-crossed lovers
gazing into
a bottomless ocean

» Posted By Isa On 08.03.2014 @ 4:50 am

frazzled

Flustered and clustered mind, words running and disconnected. I can’t bring myself to connect everything I feel and at the same time I can stop feeling. I wish I knew how to control when I’m feeling on the edge. Frazzled

» Posted By Isa On 07.14.2014 @ 10:46 pm

translucent

I’ve always read the word TRANSLUCENT on make up products and I’ve always wondered what the hell it meant. From what I remember, it’s supposed to make your skin glow to its best potential, hiding the blemishes and imperfections of the skin, yet showing off and blending to some of its best attributes.

How does a make up product even do that? I’ve remembered putting on powders and watching myself become a powdery yellow ghost in attempt to achieve flawlessness and I’ve always wondered about those radiant make up free models who don’t have to care about achieving a natural glow on a day to day basis whilst I have to trouble myself with products that help me lie to others to achieve something that is but natural for others.

Is it really fair? I stared at myself with the powder on my face, checking for uneven portions of my skin then wondering if I actually have the right skin tone at all or if its just a lack of skill in my hands to work with the product.

And no matter what I do, my dreaded oily nose will never stop flowing with its ugly, unattractive layer of shine. Which brings me to wonder why girls who apply moisturizer and have shine on their faces from the moisturizer look drastically different from girls whose faces are just shining from their NATURAL oil…..

OH the irony, the natural oil that makes you look ugly in exchange for the fake shine you get from a moisturizer product that gives your skin the NATURAL shine you can walk around the mall in with a proud, held-held-high look. Also, when I feel most beautiful, I try to consciously walk taller….

I feel if I walk taller, people stare more. Sometimes I wonder what they are really staring at.

» Posted By Isa On 07.11.2014 @ 8:58 pm

withered

withered, like the rose on the window seal. Withered like the flowers, neglected in the corner of the balcony stacked with dusty boxes. Withered like my thoughts right now. Withered.

» Posted By Isa On 04.15.2014 @ 10:07 pm

stealth

The beauty of cats is their way of walking around us quietly. They have this stealth of a predator that a human can’t even begin to understand. Us, with our loud steps, gestures and even breaths, are nothing compared to these hunters. You could own a cat for your entire life, and only see it a few days in a month. They are beautiful, they are silent, and they are deadly.

» Posted By Isa On 07.18.2013 @ 11:21 am

burrow

delilah, she–

–cut samson’s hair,
surrendered his strength and his eyes,
watched him bleed and burn,
was crushed under a different stone,
her hair stained,
and his gone.

–cut samson’s hair,
kept a lock for herself,
didn’t stay for the silver,
fled the city before he could wake,
lived a thousand miles away under a
different name,
was buried with a single long braid
clutched tight to her chest
for reasons no one knew.

–cut samson’s hair,
or at least thought about it,
put down the scissors,
slept beside him until morning,
made a curtain of his mane
to hide her eyes from the blinding sun,
smiled gently as she dreamed
of the pelts he would make
of their enemies.

» Posted By isa On 04.21.2013 @ 10:56 am

cliffs

i fell, that’s true,
but i wasn’t pushed.

i leapt.

» Posted By isa On 04.20.2013 @ 10:41 am

metro

we aren’t desolate,
war-torn, sunken-eyed,
buzzwords in an old paperback.

we aren’t joyful either,
no laughter like bullets
as we slammed axes into foreheads

of things that used to be alive.

i’m sucking on your fingers and the underside
of your cuticles still taste like
the last chocolate cake you ate
(filthily and hungrily, it had mould by then too,
cramped your stomach for days as you writhed
alone in an abandoned trailer,
but it was worth it)
the last time you touched yourself
(dryly, painfully, desperate for an
out of body experience, an
out of city experience, but what leaked out of you
were tears)
and the last time you held a dying friend
(before he turned and you shot him point-blank, 
then spent the rest of the day digging 
the shrapnel from his brain
and the grave you covered with kitty litter).

they’ve taken to ruling the earth,
but we still have its core,
the spine of things that trains once ran through

and oh, sometimes, sometimes,
the light in this tunnel gives off a semblance of life
and we miss the past so much that we forget

that we’re still here, it isn’t over yet.

» Posted By isa On 04.19.2013 @ 10:55 am

creature

Y’know, Big Guy,
at some point You gotta stop blaming the Devil
every time something screws up with Your Plan.

You raised that kid;
it just screams bad parenting.

everyone’s noticed
that coz You’re spending all Your time waiting 
for him to come home,
You’ve forgotten that You have
seven billion more 

loitering around, vandalising stuff
(blank walls, painted walls,
their bodies, other people’s bodies),

just seeking Your guidance
so they could make sense of this mess
You dumped on their plate
and left them all to deal with.

they’re hungry.
at some point You’re gonna have to admit
that war can’t feed everyone’s bellies.

and this sin thing.
i’ve seen You get angry a bunch of times, okay.
it wasn’t pretty.
it sure as hell wasn’t holy, or righteous, or any 
of those bullshit words
You keep telling your children to live up to.

You lie plenty.
You wiped out an entire city last week
coz none of the hymns their churches were singing
had Your name in them.

get it together,
grow up.
You’re older than eternity, for pete’s sake.
set Yourself straight.

You’re supposed to be perfect.
You’re supposed to be better than this,
though slowly, i’m realising,
that You’re just not.

i love You, Old Man, but You’re kind of a dick.

if You don’t want Your Leviathan to start eating
and setting fire to everything,
feed it once in a while, yeah?

don’t be a hypocrite, Dad.
walk Your talk.

» Posted By isa On 04.18.2013 @ 11:03 am

Human is a selfish creature, I wish we could change that. at the end of the day, we are selfish too. all of us. we cannot love selflessly.

» Posted By isa On 04.18.2013 @ 8:35 am

mumbling

say it.
say it louder.
say it clearer.
e-nun-ci-ate. don’t whisper.
give me a list of synonyms.
paraphrase.
write it in a letter. mail it.
don’t forget the stamp.
sing it, scream it.
tap it out in morse. blink.
use an explosion.
spray it on the walls.
tattoo it on your arms, on /my/ arms.
hire a f-cking blimp.
hijack a billboard, spell it out in cereal.

don’t look at me but
say it again.

granted, it’s not me you have to convince:
it’s my brain.
there are chemicals that want me dead
and god, are they good at their jobs.

(i think they’ll throw parties with the worms)

so say it
if you want to,
if you mean it,
if it’ll kill you if you didn’t,
but please remember:
it’s not your fault if you fail.

» Posted By isa On 04.17.2013 @ 11:11 am

leverage

long ago,
the children of babel
traded in the stars
to invent a thousand more words for love.

today, we’re
overflowing with books
and songs and flowers
in futile attempts to explain the phenomenon.

how can we top
choosing feeling over
heaven? how can
our species move on, how will we ever compare?

» Posted By isa On 04.16.2013 @ 9:46 am

geometric

there is a dead thing on the road.
it wasn’t there this morning.

it was closing its eyes to rest
as you opened yours, muttering ‘f-ck”
at the sunlight. maybe later,
if you had the time,
you’d buy thicker curtains.

you heard it dying as you stirred sugar
into your coffee.
it wasn’t any if your business.

now you’re out to walk your dog and you see
it lying in the middle of
an empty street, the wind stroking the fur on its chest
to resemble breath.
it used to be an animal.
it bled out on the concrete as you bit
into your slightly burnt toast.

it has no business being in your life at all.
taking pictures would be exploitative, and besides,
it wasn’t even beautiful the way taxidermy creations
are beautiful. terrifying-beautiful.
it was just sad. you still know what sad is, don’t you?

you don’t know how it died or how to decipher
inkblots. you’re not exactly numb,
maybe nauseated,
as you take the thing someplace grassy to bury it,
and its head won’t stop lolling.

stop it right now. this isn’t a metaphor for a love
that just ended. you didn’t wake up for anything
but burnt toast and bland coffee.
this isn’t a ghost that will haunt you
because you did wrong by it. don’t be so narcissisic.

chill out.
your next breakfast won’t taste like regret.

sometimes things just happen and they don’t
make you stronger.
you don’t grow or learn from them; you won’t
look back later all fond and grateful,
misty-eyed,
with a deeper understanding of the universe.

there is just a dead thing on the road.
it doesn’t tell you anything
you didn’t already know but

it breaks your heart, and you’d kill
to know why.

» Posted By isa On 04.15.2013 @ 8:12 am

attracted

some days i look at people and think
“you are beautiful

but only from far away”

i do not desire to touch them, or know them,
or have them touch me and know me

the opposite of loneliness
is not joy in company but joy
in being alone

as if everyone else has eaten each other
and all it stirs in me is a little hunger

so meet my lover, apathy,

an occasional bliss, the freedom from feeling
anything at all.

» Posted By isa On 04.14.2013 @ 10:12 am

branch

the flood never stopped rising.
the sky never gave up the sun.
the dove with the olive branch

probably tired itself
searching for impossible land
and drowned.

noah lay among the old bones
of his two-of-each-kind animals
and dreamt up a world that was

only three parts water,
where god mustered bravado
to start all over again.

» Posted By isa On 04.13.2013 @ 10:59 am

anchor

sure.
use me.
drop me in the sea.

forget everything we
ever were.
lap up champagne from your
floorboards,
kiss your pretty sirens,
look at the sunset and pretend
you own
the horizon.

when you get sick of the view,
when you find out your little
women have sharp teeth,
when there’s nothing
left to drink,

you’ll want to leave
and i won’t let you.
i’ll weight you down
(because i love you,
like a certain iceberg
loved a certain
ship).

» Posted By isa On 04.12.2013 @ 10:37 am

welfare

poetry shmoetry.
what the fuck am i gonna do with this?

if i take all the words in the world
and stack them,
there still won’t be enough
to put a roof over my head.

poetry doesn’t pay the mortgage.
poetry doesn’t buy a car
so i won’t have to walk the streets
at 10 pm
and spend the rest of the way
fantasizing about being a dead body.

fuck that,
poetry doesn’t even teach me how to drive.

you ever tried eating paper?
poetry tastes worst because there’s the added
feeling, and it all turns to acid
given enough time.

give me poetry that fills the belly.
poetry like thick hot soup on a rainy day,
poetry like melting popsicles when the sun
is particularly nasty

and the fan’s broken.

can poetry clothe me?
can i slide words over my body, strap them
over my shoulders
can i fasten them with a zipper?
can they tell the world leave me alone
like an oversized sweatshirt
or look at me
like a low-cut sequined number?
so why do i bother?

poetry cannot keep me warm.
poetry enriches only the heart
and i’ve pawned mine

for secondhand jeans
and something good to eat.

» Posted By isa On 04.11.2013 @ 10:15 am

dashboard

i am not a bird.
i don’t have wings.

i am not an angel
in human form;
i am not a queen
wronged,
reincarnated.

i am not touched
by god
(at least, not more
than anyone else.)

my monstrosities
do not have
some inherent
beauty.

i am not divine –
not a prophet,
not a high priestess,
unpossessed.

i am not your saving
grace;
i am not the end of
everything.

i am not the moon or
the sun. my dimples
aren’t stars. freckles
aren’t constellations.

my lipstick isn’t coded
red
for blood, and my high
heels aren’t secretly
knives.

i am not a token story.
my girlhood
is mundane.

sometimes special,
occasionally boring.

i am not better than you.
the dirt under
my toenails speak to me
more than
these warrior women.

i have no higher purpose
and my only struggle
is staying alive.

i have courage, but only
enough to be
normal, and still
i am worth as much
as the chosen ones.

i am real.
i am not going anywhere.

» Posted By isa On 04.10.2013 @ 8:35 am

trench

our kisses aren’t bullets
and our f-cking isn’t
gunfire.

the sheets aren’t white flags
and drawing blood isn’t
a patriotic act.

it’s only our bodies on the line
and history has no time
for real emotion.

it’s not a war
until someone loses.

it’s not love
if you have to surrender.

(though i suppose your moans
are an anthem
since they move me to tears.)

» Posted By isa On 04.09.2013 @ 10:50 am

punished

{flour/punished}

my family is hungry.
i steal bread.

this isn’t a f-cking les mis joke.
victor hugo was a douchebag,
but it won’t make a catchy song.

the revolution is here, and now.
it’s not in your books.

» Posted By isa On 04.08.2013 @ 10:56 am

vines

there was a massacre in the orchard today. i ate some bloodied grapes and saved my soul. the wineries will rejoice at the taste and sell out their stock; nothing tastes sweeter than a story, nothing more intoxicating than the word.

i lifted a disembodied hand and from under it,
licked spilled juice on the ground.

now if only it were as easy as that.

» Posted By isa On 04.05.2013 @ 11:03 am

bagel

i’ve seen that kind
of look before

you think i won’t erase your number
after we’re through

you think we’ll sit in a kitschy cafe
little over a week from now

you think i’ll know the intricacies
of your coffee order

i won’t even learn
your name.

» Posted By isa On 04.04.2013 @ 10:50 am

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