The wind rolled past the plant. In my head only though. I saw the face of a Western deity. I wondered, as I wandered the depths, mining: am I home, alone, like a mind undone or on a road paved more in ashes than in stone or gold or the dry textures of a passing wind?
Throughout the flaming heat and the scorching dry air, a single lone survivor stands as a worshipper of satan with her hands in the air, signs fiercely displaying her rebellion to the world of the followers of christ. Her ideals stand staunch and erect against the churches jaded sway.
The cactus stands, openly displaying her barbs to all the worlds to see. Her rebellion is there for her open dissent of the corporation s displays of power alone. All alone and left for dead.
prickly sticky hot dry found in teh desert spiny sone have flowers, full of water, would hurt to sit on three branches, greem brown, roadrunners like them, needs ,ittle water, cheap housplant, some are furry, grow in sand,
cactus. noun. definition: misery. once i was on a trip in which we had to dig up cacti. that’s right, cacti. the plural of cactus. it was a terrible job to have to do. we thought it was hard, miserable work in the 90 degree blazing sun. then it got worse. the rain started and our jeans stuck to our legs. we chafed, we sweated, we got pricked. not fun. cactus. noun. definition: misery.
This was the part of the desert where no cactus even dare lay claim to the dust and sand and brown. Here it was burnt, dry, cracked, like a bleached skull laid in the sun too long. The heat was oppressive, because there was nothing else. Except burnt, dry, scaly reptiles looking at you with beady eyes, challenging you to beat them at their own game.
a terrible plant that is covered in prickles, although is an excellent source of water in the desert
reminds me of mexico, tequila and sombreros
i don’t li
She is like a cactus,
Unable to reach to her,
Without being hurt,
Without reaching the pricks that she builds,
The walls that are made to push,
Push out,
But maybe,
Maybe,
If you retreat, only to come back again,
You will be able to reach something else,
Reach a core,
And maybe, if you stay,
She won’t have to have these walls, they don’t have to remain.
the cactus is green and sharp. by sharp, i mean pokey needles. it usually lives in the desert because it does not need steady water supply. it can store water inside of it so that it can live a long time. you can buy baby cacti in store and keep them in your house instead of a regular plant.
There was beginning to be something of a storm out on the dunes. The wind blew the little grains of sand wherever it pleased, made them look like massive swarms of the littlest bugs against the bright blue sky.
He twirled, balancing the pen on his fingers absently. With a cling and a clang, he reached down without sneaking a glance and felt around for his pen- He stared at the red liquid oozing from his fingers, saw the cactus before him, but he could no longer feel any pain.
The green, spiked form in the center of her house scared me. It represented a side of the woman that I had not yet uncovered. I knew about her past, although she doesn’t know I knew. So I just told her I though it looked good.
The humming in my head
plays the quietest tune,
a tune of content warming,
sun shining in the afternoon.
I wonder what you’re doing
but I’m happy wondering,
wondering where you are.
And all this time
I wonder what life is looking like.
Sunshine is all I see,
my music in my head,
a light breeze.
Just you and me.
She traveled for days through the forsaken dessert. After her long trek she had no choice but to collapse by a cactus where she immediately cut it open and drank its nectar. Soon after she did she began to feel a strange churning in her stomach. Poison!
He’s prickly. He might even be a prick. It’s hard to tell. He won’t let you close enough. I don’t want to be stuck. I will be. His cactus gram heart will pull me in, and keep me there.
I took a step back, not believing what just happened. Had my friend just said that to me? Did she really wish he had never met? I shook my head, hoping the tears wouldn’t fall. I thought she was nice. I thought she cared, but she was really a cactus from afar. She looked like salvation while I was wandering alone, but when I got closer she was armed for whoever tried to get near.
She sighs. She has not idea how long she’s been in this desert wasteland, in this so called Valley of the Sun, but she knows there’s nothing here for her anymore. it’s time to move on. She’s found nothing good in the way of love, gotten herself in to some strange line of sex work, and has all in all grown tired of the palm trees everywhere, promising the sea but not delivering. As she picks her way down the dark streets this night, she thinks of the family of tourinsts she saw earlier this day, photographing the cacti. That’s all this place has to offer, she thinks. Desert rocks, desert sand, desert mountains, desert cacti.
I wonder if they really think they’re protected. If they think that cruel intentions can’t slip between their defenses and get at their core. I wonder if they think that no one really knows how soft and flimsy they are inside. I wonder if they’re waiting to be ripped apart, if only to show what they truly are inside.
i don’t remember living
in a place
with cactus
i was born in rocks
rivers near
different state of mind
i blow away the sense of pricks
and pricks blow away the image of me
we are all full of silly stories
that prick us like a cactus
Staring up at the sun I felt an unusual sense of calm; the sky’s blue was shining down on me like the sun was only for me. I remember getting the plant and thinking ‘I can do this. I can do this, I can keep it alive’. I was waiting for the purple flowers to blossom, and I was going to give it to you, to remind you of me. The girl with the purple hair and the blue eyes and the prickly disposition; but we both drowned – it drowned in water and I drowned under the weight of loving you.
the tumble weeds blew past me. and i thought to myself “i feel this empty inside” and before me was a vast expance of sand and hills and one lonely cactus standing in the middle of it all. it was a reflection of myself.
So I was looking at this rather small cactus. It stood in the shade of a nearby hill. The shade would not last for long, as the constant movement of the earth, and the sun for that matter, proved to supply and guarantee one side of a long life to this sturdy plant. Waiting yet for another day for rain…
The desert sun burnt my fingertips, and dragged it’s own long spiny fingers down the length of my back. We touched, once, maybe twice. We danced, all mourning and all through the night. We sang the song of the cactus.
the tumble weeds blew past me. and i thought to myself “i feel this empty inside” and before me was a vast expance of sand and hills and one lonely cactus standing in the middle of it all. it was a reflection of myself.
I almost sat down on that cactus. You know the one. The old friend who was toxic over and over again, but who now wants to barge back into your life with platitudes of regret and loving promises. A cactus is a cactus is a cactus. I prefer roses.
Ahh, don’t touch me, lest you want blood on your fingers! I am alluring but still the very flesh of my skin does not welcome everyone to just grab me. How free it feels to simply glow in the sunshine………….
The cactus plants are lovely. Where did you get them? The dessert is full of cactus plants I remember seeing them as a young child on our trip to Los Vegas. I wasn’t even allowed in the casions.
When I walked through the aisles of the produce department, I saw something amazing! It was a piece of exotic fruit that looked just like a big cactus. My friend said, “Don’t let the appearance fool you, the fruit inside is sweet…not prickly.”
I breathed in. There was so much more than this place, this town that sucked me dry and left no water for me to drink. There was nothing for me to grow from and bloom into something more. It had left me dry and shriveled, protecting myself with spiky thorns, my only defense. I let in no one and let nothing out. It had always been that way; I knew of no other way to live.
The wind rolled past the plant. In my head only though. I saw the face of a Western deity. I wondered, as I wandered the depths, mining: am I home, alone, like a mind undone or on a road paved more in ashes than in stone or gold or the dry textures of a passing wind?
Throughout the flaming heat and the scorching dry air, a single lone survivor stands as a worshipper of satan with her hands in the air, signs fiercely displaying her rebellion to the world of the followers of christ. Her ideals stand staunch and erect against the churches jaded sway.
The cactus stands, openly displaying her barbs to all the worlds to see. Her rebellion is there for her open dissent of the corporation s displays of power alone. All alone and left for dead.
prickly sticky hot dry found in teh desert spiny sone have flowers, full of water, would hurt to sit on three branches, greem brown, roadrunners like them, needs ,ittle water, cheap housplant, some are furry, grow in sand,
cactus. noun. definition: misery. once i was on a trip in which we had to dig up cacti. that’s right, cacti. the plural of cactus. it was a terrible job to have to do. we thought it was hard, miserable work in the 90 degree blazing sun. then it got worse. the rain started and our jeans stuck to our legs. we chafed, we sweated, we got pricked. not fun. cactus. noun. definition: misery.
This was the part of the desert where no cactus even dare lay claim to the dust and sand and brown. Here it was burnt, dry, cracked, like a bleached skull laid in the sun too long. The heat was oppressive, because there was nothing else. Except burnt, dry, scaly reptiles looking at you with beady eyes, challenging you to beat them at their own game.
a terrible plant that is covered in prickles, although is an excellent source of water in the desert
reminds me of mexico, tequila and sombreros
i don’t li
She is like a cactus,
Unable to reach to her,
Without being hurt,
Without reaching the pricks that she builds,
The walls that are made to push,
Push out,
But maybe,
Maybe,
If you retreat, only to come back again,
You will be able to reach something else,
Reach a core,
And maybe, if you stay,
She won’t have to have these walls, they don’t have to remain.
the cactus is green and sharp. by sharp, i mean pokey needles. it usually lives in the desert because it does not need steady water supply. it can store water inside of it so that it can live a long time. you can buy baby cacti in store and keep them in your house instead of a regular plant.
The tumbleweed rolled passed the cactus on a warm breeze, while the stars above glowed in a ebony sky.
There was beginning to be something of a storm out on the dunes. The wind blew the little grains of sand wherever it pleased, made them look like massive swarms of the littlest bugs against the bright blue sky.
He twirled, balancing the pen on his fingers absently. With a cling and a clang, he reached down without sneaking a glance and felt around for his pen- He stared at the red liquid oozing from his fingers, saw the cactus before him, but he could no longer feel any pain.
The green, spiked form in the center of her house scared me. It represented a side of the woman that I had not yet uncovered. I knew about her past, although she doesn’t know I knew. So I just told her I though it looked good.
fruit trees give great fruit apples,plums.cactus fruit can be sweet,sour or gross…but one thing I know, the LORD made them both.
The humming in my head
plays the quietest tune,
a tune of content warming,
sun shining in the afternoon.
I wonder what you’re doing
but I’m happy wondering,
wondering where you are.
And all this time
I wonder what life is looking like.
Sunshine is all I see,
my music in my head,
a light breeze.
Just you and me.
I’ve made love
Once in your arms
Forever you’rs
top till my tongue
She traveled for days through the forsaken dessert. After her long trek she had no choice but to collapse by a cactus where she immediately cut it open and drank its nectar. Soon after she did she began to feel a strange churning in her stomach. Poison!
He’s prickly. He might even be a prick. It’s hard to tell. He won’t let you close enough. I don’t want to be stuck. I will be. His cactus gram heart will pull me in, and keep me there.
Wearing a thong was like sitting ever-so-gently on a cactus, all day long.
hehe this word makes me laugh.
Cactus’s are wonderful :)
Cactus
The simplest shape of Christmas tree ever.
Just be careful adding lights to the spines.
Yowch!
“prickly little cactus, how will your flowers ever grow if you refuse to see the sun?”
a green beauty the god created i love the cactus its spikiness and the way it looks so new and fresh against the dry dessert.
His fingernails pressed into my back –
like miniature cacti in the desert –
that’s where they belongs, right?
He hurts me,
and I love him.
And he hurts me,
and I still love him.
I took a step back, not believing what just happened. Had my friend just said that to me? Did she really wish he had never met? I shook my head, hoping the tears wouldn’t fall. I thought she was nice. I thought she cared, but she was really a cactus from afar. She looked like salvation while I was wandering alone, but when I got closer she was armed for whoever tried to get near.
She sighs. She has not idea how long she’s been in this desert wasteland, in this so called Valley of the Sun, but she knows there’s nothing here for her anymore. it’s time to move on. She’s found nothing good in the way of love, gotten herself in to some strange line of sex work, and has all in all grown tired of the palm trees everywhere, promising the sea but not delivering. As she picks her way down the dark streets this night, she thinks of the family of tourinsts she saw earlier this day, photographing the cacti. That’s all this place has to offer, she thinks. Desert rocks, desert sand, desert mountains, desert cacti.
I wonder if they really think they’re protected. If they think that cruel intentions can’t slip between their defenses and get at their core. I wonder if they think that no one really knows how soft and flimsy they are inside. I wonder if they’re waiting to be ripped apart, if only to show what they truly are inside.
i don’t remember living
in a place
with cactus
i was born in rocks
rivers near
different state of mind
i blow away the sense of pricks
and pricks blow away the image of me
we are all full of silly stories
that prick us like a cactus
Staring up at the sun I felt an unusual sense of calm; the sky’s blue was shining down on me like the sun was only for me. I remember getting the plant and thinking ‘I can do this. I can do this, I can keep it alive’. I was waiting for the purple flowers to blossom, and I was going to give it to you, to remind you of me. The girl with the purple hair and the blue eyes and the prickly disposition; but we both drowned – it drowned in water and I drowned under the weight of loving you.
the tumble weeds blew past me. and i thought to myself “i feel this empty inside” and before me was a vast expance of sand and hills and one lonely cactus standing in the middle of it all. it was a reflection of myself.
in the desert blooming so infrequently, prickly but beautiful. Sentinels, guardians of ancient secrets, soldiers of the sand.
So I was looking at this rather small cactus. It stood in the shade of a nearby hill. The shade would not last for long, as the constant movement of the earth, and the sun for that matter, proved to supply and guarantee one side of a long life to this sturdy plant. Waiting yet for another day for rain…
Reminds me of the desert. Also makes me think of cactus cooler. Which I don’t really like in the first place… yep.
The desert sun burnt my fingertips, and dragged it’s own long spiny fingers down the length of my back. We touched, once, maybe twice. We danced, all mourning and all through the night. We sang the song of the cactus.
the tumble weeds blew past me. and i thought to myself “i feel this empty inside” and before me was a vast expance of sand and hills and one lonely cactus standing in the middle of it all. it was a reflection of myself.
I almost sat down on that cactus. You know the one. The old friend who was toxic over and over again, but who now wants to barge back into your life with platitudes of regret and loving promises. A cactus is a cactus is a cactus. I prefer roses.
Like the words you say. It finds ita way in under my skin and hurts for a long, long time. Your lies feels like a cactus. A thousand cactus’
Ahh, don’t touch me, lest you want blood on your fingers! I am alluring but still the very flesh of my skin does not welcome everyone to just grab me. How free it feels to simply glow in the sunshine………….
The cactus plants are lovely. Where did you get them? The dessert is full of cactus plants I remember seeing them as a young child on our trip to Los Vegas. I wasn’t even allowed in the casions.
When I walked through the aisles of the produce department, I saw something amazing! It was a piece of exotic fruit that looked just like a big cactus. My friend said, “Don’t let the appearance fool you, the fruit inside is sweet…not prickly.”
I breathed in. There was so much more than this place, this town that sucked me dry and left no water for me to drink. There was nothing for me to grow from and bloom into something more. It had left me dry and shriveled, protecting myself with spiky thorns, my only defense. I let in no one and let nothing out. It had always been that way; I knew of no other way to live.