adahplatha

Anais Ninja

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The Walrus by adahplatha, literature

Literature

The Walrus

When you think about it – don’t think about it. I think about these things, babushka, but don’t forget the walrus eats the fish. O the mind’s eye knows them, the hound-basset snout mouth, those fanger-bangers, turdy flubs a-blub and with passions unknown, if you’re lucky. And who are we to judge. Fleshy spools, pink and brown and blue, Containing within multitude. Neurons stretch electric fingers to fugue And you, too -

Toe in Water by adahplatha, literature

Literature

Toe in Water

words that i have learned writing this book: ontogeny: the evolution of an organism phylogeny: the historical relatedness evolution of organisms heuristic: refers to experience-based techniques for problem solving, learning, and discovery. Heuristic methods are used to speed up the process of finding a good enough solution, where an exhaustive search is impractical. Examples of this method include using a "rule of thumb", an educated guess, an intuitive judgment, or common sense. stochastic model- a mathematical model involving random variables in order to estimate probability distribution of potential outcomes. (This is the sort of mod

Anatomy of Self Indulgence by adahplatha, literature

Condiments by adahplatha, literature

Literature

Condiments

A horse snorting wildly at the slightest slither; we are natural enemies, ankle-biting snake against fetishized freedom, all hair. You pepper-eating poets seduce me every time. Against my character, might I add: My nostrils are as dilated as they've ever been, to detect the slightest hint of movement from you, a stirring and then the anatomy of the thing will emerge. Laundry List: Please buy Tide, the catalogue of the human soul, self-cutting. You might crumple up the writing and swallow it like a spy, but burning toast is no career, my friend. Perhaps that bitch poetry is a necrophiliac, never letting dead archetypes sleep.

him by adahplatha, literature

Literature

him

Before I lose my life in this town, I'm looking for a pebble that smells like anything - the ocean, soil, you - that shit. Symptoms include an obsession with clocks and a dismissive anything towards her, the bleak old buzzard who watches with gauze-eyed cataracts as we walk by, - -we- menacing in white sneakers and suntan lotion - - she - has been so long above it all that there is no longer any difference between the declaration of independence and a newspaper article that goes: Everything was terrible and the people died, but really she was just having a bad dream. Really she's okay. And it was all just make-believe, and you fe

sun-splashed trailer trash by adahplatha, literature

Unrequited Requiem by adahplatha, literature

Literature

Unrequited Requiem

Unrequited Requiem The first thing you knew about me was the time I kicked tom out of the house for wearing an orange shirt, that something's been wrong and anyway, I have that old photograph of you. Yes, the surreal one that shows just how many piercings you paid for by the mouthful of ouch. But you see, in this kingdom of squalor, I have remained, as always, devout. And if you were to rot, pushing up daisies, I would get tenser, like a muscle, but until I ascend to the kingdom of - Oh, I don't remember, and there's no need for you (to ask.) I have learned to do without

None, Zip, Sink by adahplatha, literature

Literature

None, Zip, Sink

On breathless heights where trees, having been so long above it all, begin to eat their own my sun-scorched face, once red, gives up the ghost and, without affect, I press my nose against the mirror until I only have one eye. This shit is beautiful, I'm telling you - but you can't take it with you. Not onto a plane, and I eat some more paper to get through the day with a great hiss of steam, my pupils grow bigger. Now, now, now, it will grow dark enough to see, thicker and thicker, the plot is congealing, and I have told you this to make you grieve.

Dextromethorphan by adahplatha, literature

Literature

Dextromethorphan

Dex It has been three days, and still I cannot bear to change it. The water is turning a queer jaundice, and the fishy corpse is bobbing like an upside-down moon in that thumb-hazed sky. I threw food in the first day, before I noticed the stillness of the red-finned thing, which I bought at Petco in a bag of plastic glass. I put him in the blender with the blades taken out, and named him nothing, genderless queer little floater. He ate bloodworms, and I kept a log for awhile, to mark the days. I was supposed to get a plant first, but their creeping vines and lack of eyes gave me the horrors. A cactus. The bloodworms are still flo

Self Reliant by adahplatha, literature

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The Walrus by adahplatha, literature

Literature

The Walrus

Toe in Water by adahplatha, literature

Literature

Toe in Water

Sated by adahplatha, literature

Literature

Sated

Sated, she said, and bowed to the grave nodding her lips to the thin of the wind "Now it is june. She is tired of being brave." Always there, something of missing and him. Aubades on morning like nebula sighs clash with the porn star handshakes and slick lips. Names of the angels so quick fall to rise. Nothing to know her but broken fingertips. She nods to the smile and turns eyes so austere. But the rhyming part of this poem ends here. run run she said to the boy. run, run, auld songs, old songs. take your helmet, take y

A Guide to Hiking by adahplatha, literature

Literature

A Guide to Hiking

A Guide To Hiking (for beautiful neighbors) Creaking and groaning like tin-can rhetoric of airplanes and trailers, two tires gone, leaning to the left side of light. It dozes. Windshield wipers quiver and smear the dirt in soft arcs. "You're tired from the ride?" you gestured wildly, like you were throwing rocks at that bombastic sky, exploding with pastels and sun, fingerpainting fall colors all over the roof. This latitude your axels straddle bakes me as I dry. Nothing's decomposing, though, and that makes all the difference. Suppose we were to slide down after the fall and the flowers in the dirt and sand at the

Fuck Force Feeding by adahplatha, literature

Literature

Fuck Force Feeding

"please sit down, and when you do remember the caliginous skies of emptiness, that dare accrue reflections apartheid." You're welcome and I'm sitting now looking up though glass. The metal in my neck allows no revelations past. We're thin. You're in. How lovely, then. Blue plates dare serve the air. I bow in bathrooms, disallow the weight to settle in. "please sit down, and when you do remember the caliginous skies so write in pencil. Overdue, your words are so contrived." Shrines and waste of porcelain. Teeth are chalk from bile. So slender, and remember when rot didn't make you smile? "please sit down,

StrawberryFlavoredOriginalSin by adahplatha, literature

Literature

StrawberryFlavoredOriginalSin

I don't know if I've mentioned it before- I'm a whore, and from this angle I could mow your lawn with my eyelashes. Talk about breathing. My trachea feels like something from Olduvai gorge, feel it rise inside. Though I watch you through my retinas, through air and (nitrogen collating like they mentioned in that film, white men named after streets talking in lab coats) through all that air smoke bile I watch. "Don't turn on the sprinklers." Somewhere there's a fire.

Let him have her by adahplatha, literature

Literature

Let him have her

L O V E Living in chains and consciousness rearranged (rhyme like a stutter and) by an early surety, maturity arranged to remain as insight is punishment, knuckled by daze of the strange translations of love that always seem to refrain page ......by ...........page. You can laugh but I'd like to knock her bullets and cries to the side we all need rest from the queasy-mad ride, to decide and abide by rules as fair as apartheid t

Anniversary Drive by adahplatha, literature

Literature

Anniversary Drive

Anniversary Drive You resisted, out of bed and heavy-eyed, sleeping like something both rebellious and dead. I pulled and prodded as the sun peeked dawn, dragging you through pants, breakfast, and all those motions that used to be so easy. Twelve years today since we tied the knot. You didn't wear your wedding ring, though I wore mine (yours, too, around my pinkie finger, that's another story-) and I spoke and you answered to the lyrics of the radio, saying promises me made today have retroactive gangrene rot. Your side of the car - the heater is on (riverrun eden) and the heater lets the rain through, fall. You are cryin

Mare Crisium by adahplatha, literature

Literature

Mare Crisium

The moon doesn't usually talk to me, unless the circumstances are pretty extenuating. So you can imagine what stress the poor moon must have been under when it first spoke to me, before all of this happened. It scared me to death, I can tell you that! But I was kind of ready for something strange to happen to me, if I want to be totally honest here. Which I do. Anyway, that day- the day that the moon spoke to me- there were three words spoken in our house. "Pass the salt," said my father. We used to talk a lot more before all of this happened. My dad used to say that as soon as my mom stopped being sick we could move to Italy on sabb

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High School Sweethearts by adahplatha, literature

Literature

High School Sweethearts

High School Sweethearts I am sorry to report that I have become that wicked poltergeist from whom you hide the knives, with their long cat pupils blank and staring. I tuck that within my ectoplasm, going north for the winter, the money and my own best time. Ten o' clock, what's the news? My vacant-eyed pen chewer, the advertising agents were thinking of you. My hands on your football shoulders, like a scene from that movie, leave red round marks. A hickey from the plague, your new eyes blink and bruise, fading and blooming in the gloomy blue light. And at that ten-year high school reunion, a spot

the likelihood of Losing sleep by somedrunkblackspoon, literature

Literature

the likelihood of Losing sleep

______________________________ She has become one remarkable appendage. Among the slop of barstools we were introduced; had her pulse, perhaps, become any sadder I'd have thought her a reptile. "But this is about mammals," slunk from me, suppressed by the stature of my sweating tumbler; and I boiled to beat my extinction out the door, then very swaggered, watched a swallowtail swirl on the landing of an arid alleyway to tatter its wings, so pasted to a piece of warm gum. "A correct assessment, butterfly." "But this is about mammals." * Though I wish, I am not exempt from interaction. I've been writing about her for mo

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Mr. Sunshine RU 486 by adahplatha, literature

Literature

Mr. Sunshine RU 486

In my dream there are marriages and a leaf and my third grade teacher, how Freudian that she is smoking a cigar. And goldfish live in vodka - a terrible accident! Even with the too-tight dog collar that you're holding tenderly with your teeth, goldfish mr. sunshine would slip by and live in my stomach and I would never be alone but the tickle inside my ribs would make me open my mouth wide for a big belly laugh and out would come mr. sunshine, with the cornbread & ninety proof & cigarette butts that I swallowed like a spy mr. sunshine's vestigial fins wave a calm goodbye to my strange mouth, and when people ask h

Mr. Sunshine RU 486

adahplatha

About adahplatha

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Kyrgyzstan
Deviant for 20 years

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adahplatha

Aug 1, 2011

a poem from a woman who is, like me, not dead

0 min read

carolyn kinzer  'singing aloud'        We all have our faults. Mine is trying to write poems.        New scenery, someone I like, anything sets me off!        I hear my own voice going on, like a god or an oracle,        That cello-tone, intuition. That bell-note of wisdom!        And I can't get rid of the tempting tic of pentameter,        Of the urge to impose a form on what I don't understand,        Or that which I have to transform because it's too grim as it is.        But age is improving me: Now, when I finish a poem        I no longer rush out to impose it on friendly colleagues.        I climb through the park t

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adahplatha

Mar 22, 2006

Untitled

0 min read

I've lost it I really have and you're probably crazy too, stop lying.

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adahplatha

Feb 11, 2006

1 year anniversary

0 min read

I've been writing absurd amounts of poetry because I'm now in poetry classes instead of taking a schedule that was silly in every way and had things like sociology and economics and honestly they cannot compare to poetry. Foucalt said that every man was born in the wrong time, under the wrong set of circumstances.  I like that, I guess. College is just ridiculous all the time - everyone has an asymetrical haircut, liberal views, complicated relationships, poetry readings, torn-up jeans and a romanticized view of the working class. Something whimisical: there's a japanese deep-sea lily that releases its sex cells with the cycle of the moon'

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Profile Comments 278

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Dis-Finite

Sep 5, 2011

Thank you for the watch, and the favourite too!

Zombie-like

Jan 17, 2011

Hey you. It's Nuno. I remember you as one of my favorite people, and I'm sad that I have no way of getting in touch with you anymore. Fix it.

justb

Jul 5, 2010

hey! if you're around, get in touch with me so i can introduce you to my novella!!!!! screwluse@gmail.com

c'mon.. you know you wanna...

Niccilo

Sep 11, 2009

I know this is going to sound very strange, but i found a piece of your poetry that i had saved onto my computer a very long time ago so i could read it whenever i wanted to.

This was way before i had a Deviantart account.

And i must say that i am so excited to find your poetry again that i could almost cry.

PLEASE continue to write.

mode-de-vie

Aug 20, 2009

Congratulations on your Daily Deviation!

I've placed a link to it in the sidebar of my journal page.

breatheinspiration

Aug 18, 2009

Wow, you relly know how to write. You're going on my watchlist, keep the good stuff coming

Of-Remembrance

Aug 18, 2009

You are the new incarnation of Poppy Z. Brite!
Read 'Wormwood' if you get the chance, a great collection of short horror bits from Brite, also a native of New Orleans.!!

Sincerely,
Nathan