Honey Salt Flesh
A spell is spun in the eleventh hour.
In lovers breaths illusion flowers.
We press our hearts together.
We let our lips make feathers.
In lovers breaths illusion flowers.
We press our hearts together.
We let our lips make feathers.
Of night you professed secretly
in my ear with hot breath.
Between graces of salt honey flesh,
doubt will infest the sweet you left.
in my ear with hot breath.
Between graces of salt honey flesh,
doubt will infest the sweet you left.
Erosion voodoo morning brought
sense in magic I sought not
but water clean and cool of though
ttook stone to dream and this to rot.
sense in magic I sought not
but water clean and cool of though
ttook stone to dream and this to rot.
The virtue of our carpe noctem
turned to vice when logic played
quick the turn from summer to autumn
quick the pace of spell's decay.
turned to vice when logic played
quick the turn from summer to autumn
quick the pace of spell's decay.
Indescribable 1
Sickeningly sweet
A calling I shouldn´t heed
But must!
Must as I must breath
You, undeniable need
Call to me
In all weak and lonely hours
You, flower of mean
blooms and bursts with fumes to send a-buzzing
Creatures of poor will
A calling I shouldn´t heed
But must!
Must as I must breath
You, undeniable need
Call to me
In all weak and lonely hours
You, flower of mean
blooms and bursts with fumes to send a-buzzing
Creatures of poor will
A cliff once stood upon
A presipece of echoes to follow
Through the passing of time
A high never to be reached again
Howling through memories
To become a chorus
Of Echoes Enveloping
In cancerous consumption
A presipece of echoes to follow
Through the passing of time
A high never to be reached again
Howling through memories
To become a chorus
Of Echoes Enveloping
In cancerous consumption
Renounced will be sacred vices
When the enthralled cannot withstand
But to submit to death
In the ecstasy of chasing satisfaction
When the enthralled cannot withstand
But to submit to death
In the ecstasy of chasing satisfaction
Flowing
I am pounding the pavement with my thoughtsas
I would your soul with my words
artists pound notes into my head
at the rate of my heart beat
ever accelerating
lacerating sense for sensations sake
I would your soul with my words
artists pound notes into my head
at the rate of my heart beat
ever accelerating
lacerating sense for sensations sake
I have no sympathy
I have no memorymy
inhibitions are released
in unstoppable rhythm
I have no memorymy
inhibitions are released
in unstoppable rhythm
I am tired of being sorry
I am tired of tom foolerybut
I am eager to walk the street
and sing and dance to those who understand me
without knowing me
I am tired of tom foolerybut
I am eager to walk the street
and sing and dance to those who understand me
without knowing me
sing and dance with me
but don't speak
just listen
and move as you would aloney
but don't speak
just listen
and move as you would aloney
-----
Anya VerKamp.- Nací en Indiana, un estado poco escuchado de Estados Unidos, en 1993. Viví ahí hasta los 12 años cuando me mude al Perú con mi papá, todos nos preguntaban por qué nos mudamos. Pues somos nómadas, personas que no se sienten totalmente en casa, en ningún lugar, porque son ciudadanos del mundo. Ahora estudio Francés en Trujillo y online de una universidad estadounidense, trabajo como animadora de fiestas infantiles de vez en cuando, me gusta porque es una oportunidad para ejercer mi capacidad para actuar.
Web: http://avey13.deviantart.com/gallery/25971594
No tengo premios ni he publicado nada todavía, pero es uno de mis sueños algún día ser escritora publicada. La imagen del post de este blog titulado “Convocatoria a todas las poetas”" tiene una imagen que dice "I LOVE WRITING". Lo leí y me dije, "Me encanta escribir? No, la verdad." No es que me encanta escribir, es más como algo que no puedo evitar, algo que me sale tan natural y me es tan necesario como el respirar.
Web: http://avey13.deviantart.com/gallery/25971594
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