Wednesday, December 17, 2014

A Real Love Poem For Once after all I guess...it seems that way at least




Maybe there is not a poem about this. Maybe there never was suppose to be a poem about this. Maybe if I just write forever there will not be a poem about this. At this poet this is not even a poem about this.


Writers say it all because it has to be said
for what really
this is not even a poem
so much is left unsaid because it does not need voice
so much is spoken no one really wants to hear
or can understand
it's blackness for nothing
sadness to a point
yet there is a smile is there not
there is love can you not see
so we fell in love through books and documentaries
and yeah the math and engineering is to die for
but we are living beings are we not
yes you fell in love over art and rainbows
fucking unicorns I guess
deadly assaisins have your heart
when even a poem feels like a lie
I really loved you all but this war is a bit much
when even warmth feels like handcuffs
I've almost talked myself out of the tears I cry for it all and nothing really
on this day I could see so clearly it felt like I should have died
What do you miss the most
The Beatles
what do you miss the most
really The Beatles
what will you remember when it is all gone
that I never believed you all in the first place
what will you regret
the tears for nothing and the isolation I kept going on about
what will you be when you are gone
a girl in a hot shower writing post apocalyptic love poems
in the end I will see I worried too much
for all of them and expressed myself through anger
this makes the angels come to your side
I close my eyes as they sit beside me in silence
see after all this is
a real love poem


This is Josaisa, Live from Planet Girl On a Diet.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Contemplating Dying Gods and Their Children

He saved me with a kiss he'd come to kill me with
life unfolds like this from time to time
the ones who wake you from a dream you thought was life
I wanted to be innocent
no not really
I wanted to be pure 
like snow or summer leaves or the ocean in the more peaceful parts on the world
I wanted to be evil
no not really
just dark like they say we can never be
I tried to set myself on fire
However I dress really well and few people will stand for that
A girl in a pretty dress covered in kerosene 
He would not let it be
I tired to go crazy but I remember everything and in madness it helps to forget
He would not let me close my eyes
Maybe he thought it would be a waste
or at the very least an act of disrespect 
why let whiter and die what is is useful 
He turned the dial on the world just a bit differently 
now it does not seem so bad and we all seem less lost
the ones who are not with us are still here
It's just I don't have to be with them when I see them
No sympathy for the enemy dying
All hearts and minds to the victors trying and surviving 
These thoughts call me from my sleep
I am to make heads or tails of it all
Maybe just let it sit here for a while
I was hard and now I am soft
I was woman and now I am a pure animal 
wild like the tides and the moon
freed by a kiss from a charged knight
who no longer goes by that title at all 
unless one has eyes to see
and any useful inquiries

I am Josalisa, and this is some form of a RiOt.


Thursday, July 24, 2014

I saw but Wasn't Looking



This is not even crying or feeling anything
this is just an expression
I like to experiment
with poetry and art
my mind my heart
it is all part of it
So it's a love poem
because someone writes love poems about them
and the empty they empty more
or the dead they awaken to kick
bored fucking never dared to pay for it
we share the world with them
they try to drown us in deserts
we try to breathe in fire
touch what is untouchable
to feel what
nothing 
how does nothing feel
how does it breathe 
how does it survive
in this time of the living and the dead
I sang all the songs in my head
I was never that thing you tired to kill
yet it died anyway
sacra vivere 
ita et in peccatum

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

DSM code F 52.7: The Subject



There are those who know better than this
to you I say enjoy the freedom
there are experiments one can undergo 
oh do we volunteer
at first I guess yes
later on you see it was all a forced draft program
one never really signed up but was summoned
by forces greater than ones own abilities
dominate thoughts always lead to subjectivity
one should always give in to these thoughts
best for all involved really
except for the girl who is oh so silly
so many signs and symbols
so many black and white documentaries
everyday is a night
every knight is a son
every boy on the run
deep inside has a gun
a sword on which to kill you
sex is death
and bondage love
longing is destiny
heartbreak fits like a glove
want the thing that breaks you
cry for a dying dove



Wednesday, July 16, 2014

DSM code F 52.7: The Math Tutor



The Math Tutor was a delightful hippie boy that well, was not a fucking hippie at all. I saw him once before our initial meeting working on his math homework in the library. I spend a lot of time around books and I'm never on the prowl while I am around words in mass. But there was something about this boy. I walked past him to get a closer look at his work. I wanted to see his letters and the way he wrote his numbers. Only he was not writing any letters, just numbers. In perfect sequence in the neatest script one can imagine. My first thought was he writes like a Good German. How did he find the patience. His energy was that of serious contemplation and slight irritation. I began to feel a warm sensation in my stockings. There was really nothing to say, so I just continued on my way. I never really let that image go. This was the kind of guy that sat alone and read, one whose mind may be inclined with the men who sent rockets into space. Sitting here, among the living. I always imagine men of any real interest being shown in black and white. Why, I'm sure the answer will come easy, but I will not bother with such inquires at this time. I wondered if the general lack of intelligence he must witness bothers him? However like I said, I just went on my way.

Many thoughts and dreams later I decided as an Anthropological  study to go out and sit in the sun for a bit. I had a dream or vision to begin reading about Lucifer again. After I finished a fine book on the Angel I remembered our relationship had been somewhat sexual for a bit. Him being my one true love after all. I began writing him love letters. What's a girl suppose to do with love letters to Lucifer, one may ask? The answer is simple. Give him his letters when he shows up. So I sat and waited. Would he show up? Would he be tall, dark and handsome? Or a boy who looks like a Mormon with a satanic sigil tattooed on his arm? Well no one showed up and I did not care. But I did like waiting so I waited, for whatever, whoever to show up. And just like a Satanic angel out of the blue up comes The Math Tutor. With all of his calm and casual demeanor. What does one really say to a man anyway? So I just randomly said everything which is nothing and listened to his bizarre, yet perfectly normal point of view. You know things you do while you wait. Except it wasn't just a casual conversation, it was a full on discussion and well, he was a bit cleaver now wasn't he? Maybe too cleaver and a bit too gentle. I may also be a bit too cleaver and gentle, but I try not to let men know it. Well only if that man I am speaking to is a hippie. Which this sweet guy on the opposite bench most assuredly was. Anti GMO...hippie. Anti pornography...hippie...Anti American...hippie. Beard...fucking hippie. 

So you know, when the nice hippie guy asked me to go for a walk with him in the botanical garden, I was like. Total hippie, nice. Except when we got over to the no doubt beautiful and all and out majestic botanical garden. He revels to me he is not a hippie at all. In fact he is the only other type of able bodied non-intoxicated adult white male. And as we all must know my darlings, that shit ain't no fucking hippie. He was as one may say, a Good German. Oh, the Ze Germans. This is what our friends across the pound would call being proper fucked. Or so it would seem from my antifascist  black lesbian feminist point of view. Which is a point of view I find suitable to explain my love of fascism. To myself, in my own heart. Yet lets save that for a rainy day. One of which this is not.

I almost immediately begin to retract all of my former statements. Of course he thought that was funny because he was not the type to allow for any bullshit. I was not as cleaver as he was and we both knew that. "I was just kidding about all of that from before." I said. "Yeah, but you know too much." He answered. "I read it in a magazine." I lied. "Oh, but you know how it all fits together." As he said that he looked me in the eyes in a way that let me know he was going to punish me for the last part. There really was nothing I could do. Other than scream, which was clearly not an option. I sometimes wonder what would have really happened if I would have screamed. I'm sure he would have been extremely violent. I could see the violence in his eyes and feel it...I don't know in the air. In his soul? There was no choice really. "What are you really?" He answered while kissing me. "You know." I kissed him back. Why because I was scared? It was because I knew what he was, and I loved him for it. "Say it" What is this, Gastapo Twlight? "I can't say it" He pulled me closer and kissed me harder. I was pushed into a very tight corner and he was going to have his way. I was caught in a very specific net. This was not his first catch and there was no chance to turn back time. "I know you want to." The Good German whispered into my ear. Ever so sweet and psychotic. "Say it" I turned my head. When he takes my head in his hands I can feel the pressure he puts on my skull. I know he can break my neck or pulls my hair out.

He does neither of these. Even though there is no way he is letting me go until he is finished with me, I know he will not hurt me if I answer him. So I kiss him harder with  my eyes closed. put my head down so I am no longer face to face with his beautiful blue eyes. "White power" trying to make it sound like a question. As it comes out as a request. "Good girl. Now open up your legs." Why did I open my legs? It needed to happen. Not just because it was what he wanted and he had established that as the most important thing for right now. I did it because I was afraid, for the first time in a long time I felt fear. A real emotion and I wanted to go with it. Open your legs and your wish is my command, no one ever said. So yeah I opened my legs. I learned how to give in. He was generous down there in my secret spot. I like having my body displayed in public.

After he was done with me. A simple yet terrifyingly aggressive sexual encounter, he asked me for my number. I couldn't even handle reality so I just gave him my phone. He took down my number, asked me if I was going back to library (the answer was yes) and walked away. I wanted to sit there and cry. Or run after him. I wanted him to not treat me so casual after taking me in that way. Have you ever just finished something you wish had never happened? Because you know you can't be the same again. He strolled off like it was his job and he had finished a good days work. I wanted to cry, so I fell in love. 

DSM code F 52.7: The Math Tutor: Deux



You would have to be a blind person to not see what happened to me. I was changed. He took something or replaced something with this new unknowable thing. I knew I would see him again and I was not sure how I would react. He messaged me the next day while I was in lecture. Inquired about my schedule and when I would be out of my current lecture. He wanted to see me again. We meet up right after my class. He was sitting on a bench waiting for me. So tall blonde and gorgeous. A really beautiful fucking Aryan man and I was probably in trouble. Maybe we could just be friends, I thought. We sat and talked for a while then he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. The way he presents these walks they always seem so innocent. Older men have taught him how to be very nonthreatening in a public place.

After walking for awhile around the more private parts of campus he took me to a really secluded place I had never been before. Once he got me there I can tell he was going to fuck me. Like leading sheep to the slaughter. What a naive little girl I can be sometimes. When he started to kiss me I knew I was going to let him do anything he wanted to me. He said we needed to go to an even more private place for what he had in mind. I looked around and could not even hear a sound. How private was his private place? We got up and walked further away from the main campus. We were like in the woods, as far as I was concerned. He took me deep into the thick bushes and told me to take off my clothes. To my surprise I did so immediately. Without giving it much thought. Like it was something I just do everyday. I can not say why. The way he treated it. Walk over here with me. Get into those dirty bushes and take off all of your clothes.

He had me stand there naked for a while. So he could examine me I guess. He kept all of his clothes on and he started to touch and kiss me. He felt like he had just really fallen in love with me and could not help himself. Having his way with me in the bushes was all he could do to not go mad with lust. I wanted to fulfill his every desire. He kissed me deeply on my neck. "56 % of Black Women can't take care of themselves. Most of them have children who they need to support and can't get an education.." He kisses me on my checks. I close my eyes. "Well I'm not like all of them." I say for no good reason really. "I don't want you to be like all of them. They don't know how to protect themselves. To say no to things that might be dangerous for them" He says as his begins kissing me on my lips. "Get down on your knees." he tells me. I do as instructed. He then takes out his...will you know and I...well you know. He has me suck it until I begin to vomit it is so deep in my throat. "Doesn't that hurt you?" he inquires as I am still on my knees with him in my mouth. I look up at him and say "yes". He pushes it in deeper as he holds my head perfectly still. "But you like it don't you?" he asks/tells me as he holds my head much harder than before. I look up at him with tears running down my face, "yes" I answer.

He has me get up and turn around to face away from him. "bend over." I do as I am told. "mmm, look at you" He began to push his way inside of me. "A white girl would never let herself get degraded like this" he utters in disgust. A harsh reminder that the encounter is for degradation purposes. After he is done with me and looks at me like I am an animal and he just finished shitting next to it. "put your clothes back on. Hurry I need to be somewhere else soon" He begins to walk away as I get dressed fast. I don't want him to leave me here. I don't know where I am exactly or how to get out and I am nervous and well he just brutally raped fucked me so I was a bit out of my wits at the time. As soon as I get dressed I run to catch up with him. "Why are you following me like that?" It was a question but it felt like a dagger. "Because of what just happened?" I tried to explain. "Did you think anything like that would ever happen to you?" I shook my head no."Do you know why that just happened?" he asked me. I could not think of a response. So I just shook my head no again. "Because I like to conquer things. In war it is how you show you are winning" He told me. "But we are not in war." That was the plain truth as far as I could tell. "Of course we are. It is a cold war and it has been going on a  long time" The Math Tutor kindly let me know. "What just happened with us is going to keep happening until I knock you up. Then I am am going to never talk to you again and you will have to raise the baby alone." Code fucking red this is no shook coming from a good German but yeah. Very romantic are not the two words that come to mind. "You are going to become a statistic like the girls I told you about." Thanks. as you can see he was a real dream come true. The entire statement just took me for a loop and I stopped walking. He kept going like this was all party line and nothing to be surprised by. Once he was a few feet ahead of me he looked back and said, in his calm casual tone, "are you coming?" I wanted to walk away. Yet we both knew I was not going to do that. This is the way certain men tame radical feminists, one which I certainly was no more. I walked faster to catch up with him. We walked back across campus, him with his usual casual stroll. Me covered in his cum and walking slightly behind him, completely conquered and tamed. I saw some of the girls I knew from class. I would usually call out to them a wild hello. Today I just walked past them with my head down two steps behind the taller more power Math Tutor. After all. I belonged to him now.

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Люцифер Makes Me Wait



...and then I was like, I'll wait.
 I'll wait like a patient ballerina dancing on the tip of a razor blade. 
Like the girl you put into a cage in your heart. 
A cage with the smallest window and the most beautiful view. 
She sat and cried.
 You know, because we all know it's better that way
Learning to love it all because patience is what is needed
I have to learn that I can't have everything
But really why not
My legs are crossed, my hands in my lap
My back is ever so straight
I remember all the things you have taught me so far
Watch for the symbols
Wait for the call
Never teach them what you have taught me
Most importantly this is all just an experiment
Ending or beginning at any point in time
...now to exit my mind
Люцифер вчить мене чекати