# Monroee's Artwork



## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Poetry

The Oysters

Grinding, clanging, banging, and screaming.

The truck lunges down the highway -

Full of metal - a monster of metal -

Metal and flesh fused into one - as it heads my way -

As we lunge off the cliff into the deep black sea

Down where the oysters are waiting for me.

Streaming, flowing, emptying, and screaming.

The blood exits the frozen veins -

Hitting air - Changing red -

Blood in the bathtub mixed into one - as it leaves me -

As we sink into the deep black sea

Down where the oysters are waiting for me.

Thrashing, drowning, suffocating, and screaming.

The water enters the yelling lungs -

Sucking in - full and tight -

Too much life got in the lungs - as it enters -

As I fall into the deep black sea

Down where the oysters are waiting for me.

Tallest Oak

Shall I compare thee to the tallest oak?

Thou art more deeply rooted and more solid.

Willows do indeed bow to thy feet,

And expectant eyes rove thy swaying branches.

Sometimes the leaves fall and reveal thy soul,

But often does the foliage come again.

Time and time again thy trunk holds the earth in place,

And of this act, thy admirers expect no less.

But I dare thee to climb a mountain,

To dig out thy roots and dive in the lake.

Shield thyself from the winds that pull thy limbs,

It was but an illusion that thou could move.

For, the day ends, and thou art in the dirt, bound,

And I, so far below, am free upon the ground.

The Heretic In You

It was unendurable, it was painless, it was unnatural, 
but lingered as a gifted disease. 
Was it the suffering I loved in you?
Was the visual too grand for me to look away?
The blood too red, the tears too fresh, the skin too transparent? 
Was it the heretic in you?

I longed to understand, longed to study, longed to cure, 
yet I parted with sweet sorrow from your case. 
I let it live on. 
Was it the need to see a circus freak?
The need to see an asylum inmate? A lunatic? 
The need to love madness?
It festered, both you and me, into a living, breathing bond. 
But, was it the heretic in you?

So far gone, you and your world. 
One of you didn't exist. 
Do I exist? 
Your lover?
If you're deep in a nightmare, 
am I the devil chasing you?
Keeping you in chains?
But what addicted me? 
The heretic in you.

Scratch, pull, scream, curse, struggle. 
Your bonds won't break. 
Take a sip of the cure. 
Keep trying. 
But know this, 
I will never let you go. 
I need the heretic in you.

The Elusive Tree

O, Muse, my Muse, sing down to me, as done in ancient times,

Sing of the Chase, the Flight and th'Unrequited Love,

But Love it shall not be called, for 'tis but ardent Lust

That drove the Sun God mad.

Her rose-petal lips, her rounded breasts, the paleness of her skin,

All of this Daphne possessed, along with an elusiveness,

For no man ever touched her moon-lit flesh,

Not while she danced in the woods at night,

a Dryad, a Virgin, a purified sight.

O, Muse, my Muse, sing down to me, of the pulse of this Lust,

Was it the Beauty, was she his Aphrodisiac?

Surely this Desire did not stem from Beauty alone, but the Unattainable,

That drove the Archer mad.

But, alas, the Chase began and so fled the desperate Virgin,

Fled the God who pursued her, fled the ravage, fled the rape,

Her pleading Voice rose up to the Heavens,

Up to her Goddess, the unmerciful Diana.

O, Muse, my Muse, sing down to me, of the tragic end,

Daphne and her pale flesh transformed into bark and leaves,

Encased in a Tree she was, elusive, unattainable,

That drove the Sun God mad.

Under My Stockings

Alas!, terrible is the torture I endure when being thus far away.

I saw thou with thy blonde tresses and yellow cap today.

Thy dress bubbled up in the snickering wind,

My mouth opened with moistening lips.

I felt my heart tremor under my chest, 'tis shocking.

But I hid that feeling, under my stockings.

I courted thee in disguise.

My thoughts, my feelings, fell into lies.

Thy demeanor played upon my obsessions,

Thy voice made quiver my fingers.

I feared thee knew, that thy eyes were mocking.

So I hid my love letters, under my stockings.

For what am I but a love-slain lunatic?

Jealous, envious, mad and demonic?

I painted thee gold, and thy gave me black.

My painting became meddled with colours grotesque.

Thy rejection was blunt, chaotic and shocking,

So I hid my bloodletting, under my stockings.​


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## LALoner (Dec 3, 2008)

I liked the Oak one.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Thanks LA. That was actually the first one I wrote from that bunch.


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## SilentWitness (Dec 27, 2009)

Great work. 

I like the 8th picture, shadows and obscure type. Also, the speckled rose against the speckled wall. Very interesting. 

Your poetry is lovely and imaginative. My favourites - The Oysters and Under My Stockings.


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## Medicine Man X (Feb 3, 2011)

That is a impressive collection of art and poetry. You are very talented Monroee. I would love to see more. Keep it up!


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## Canadian Brotha (Jan 23, 2009)

_Photography:_
- I particularly like the shot of the posing woman light cover & the flower, great shots they are

_Poetry:_
- I absolutely love all the poems, you've got a way with words that is inspiring for a poet such as myself


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## layitontheline (Aug 19, 2009)

I really like the airplane & rose photos.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Thanks guys! The compliments mean a lot. 

My camera has been out of batteries for weeks now. I'm going insane not being able to take photos.

I'm also having writers block. Grr.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

.


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## Crystalline (Dec 1, 2008)

Hey, what camera do you use?

These are lovely.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Crystalline said:


> Hey, what camera do you use?
> 
> These are lovely.


I'm not sure what kind of camera it is. I really just grabbed the one I got for my mom for christmas and started using it. It's a Canon, thats all I know.

And thank you so much.


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## Imp (Mar 26, 2011)

I like the picture of the doll, I've always loved dolls. Even though now I am far to old to 'play' with them. (haha)


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## Neptunus (Oct 29, 2007)

> The Elusive Tree
> 
> O, Muse, my Muse, sing down to me, as done in ancient times,
> 
> ...


This is REALLY GOOD!

And good for you for knowing your Greek mythology! :b


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Neptunus said:


> This is REALLY GOOD!
> 
> And good for you for knowing your Greek mythology! :b


Thank you! I'm so glad someone noticed that one. That's my favorite poem and I'm pretty proud of it.

And yes, I'm quite well-versed on my Greek mythology. Being obsessed with it a while back.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

New poem!!!

She Sings

Red-Haired Siren -

She screams - She sings -

Body of boundless praise -

She screams - She sings -

Swapping my sanity for a wicked craze -

Into the sea, my ship is thrown, she slings.

Red-Haired Siren -

She screams - She sings -

Tones of effortless control -

She screams - She sings -

Taking my life with one ring of the toll -

Into the sea, my ship is thrown, she slings.

Red-Haired Siren -

She screams - She sings -

Standing with divine composure -

She screams - she sings -

She embraces me, traps me in her enclosure -

Into the sea, my ship is thrown, she slings.

Into the sea, my ship is thrown.​


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## Canadian Brotha (Jan 23, 2009)

Nice poem!


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## Citrine (Oct 19, 2010)

Nice work on all of them!


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Please check out my old novel, now published! I am very proud of it. It's my best work.

Love's Heretic


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## ohgodits2014 (Mar 18, 2011)

All of this by the age of 20?

Obviously, you didn't just sit around watching paint dry like I did (and still do). Congrats.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

rednosereindeer said:


> All of this by the age of 20?
> 
> Obviously, you didn't just sit around watching paint dry like I did (and still do). Congrats.


Having SA and being a loner, I had a lot of time on my hands and still do. LOL. But thank you. <3


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Two new poems! Enjoy.

Pomegranate 

Dragged by my black steeds -

Drawn against my will - I swear -

I only wanted a queen, you see -

When I saw youthful Persephone -

picking flowers of flawlessness -

And pulled her to the dark abyss.

Down to Tartarus I fled -

Drawn against my will - I swear -

I only wanted a queen, you see -

Her mother tried to steal her back -

Pleading to the gods, on her knees -

But Persephone felt the deathly breeze.

I kept my love, down below -

Drawn against my will - I swear -

I only wanted a queen, you see -

But, alas, she cannot leave me -

A fateful fruit she tasted of -

Alas, forever shall you be my queen, love.

Painted Gold

She was to be sacrificed. Poor, poor Thesalia. 
They laced her with silk. They painted her gold. 
They wrapped her black tendrils in stick-silver pins. 
The greatest of honours, from the start she was told.

Drowning in the labyrinth. Poor, poor Thesalia. 
Extinguished the torch, dark went her painted gold. 
Awaiting her doom, her honour, her death. 
She gasped when she laid eyes on the one she was sold.

Away she was dragged. Poor, poor Thesalia. 
Slave to the Minotaur, owned was her painted gold. 
Ravaged and raped and taken for wife. 
She lived away her days. Taking shape to his every mold.

She fell in love. Poor, poor Thesalia. 
Grown affection for the beast, his touch on her painted gold. 
Given consent to his beastly ways. 
Down in the darkness, but she felt not the cold.

O, how she dreaded the day. Poor, poor Thesalia. 
When Theseus came to save the day, bring up to the light her painted gold.
Away she was dragged, away she was dragged. 
Hear her screams of despair, hear her screams, behold.​


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## Neptunus (Oct 29, 2007)

^ Girl, you've got talent! :yes 

You should post these on ecauldron or some of the Hellenic boards!


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## trendyfool (Apr 11, 2010)

these are so good! I love the drama and the mythic quality.


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## Zappa (Apr 15, 2010)

Love it all <3


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

New poem! This one was so addicting to write, I didn't know when to stop myself. But I eventually wrapped it up with the last verse. :b

My Darling
You set your witless eyes on me - 
you took the pity right out - you see - 
Taking you by your famished hands - put you in your place - 
I painted your daffodil-mocking face - 
upon my sculptured somber plate.

You murmured your dulcet undertone to me - 
You spoke of how your Maker molded you to be -
Enthralling me - I ravished you - 
And the raindrops fell from the firmament - too - 
I painted your daffodil-mocking face - 
upon my yellow-flowered lace.

Which I wrapped myself in - tried to choke out your timbre tones - 
Drowned myself in compassion for your lovely collarbones - 
I saw a blatant hallucination - 
Of your hide - your skin - a false flirtation - 
I painted your daffodil-mocking face - 
On the henna-inked coating - the misplace.

The marking faded from my husk - I longed for you to hold - 
I longed - my dearest - to have you to mold - 
Mold into my untainted phantasy - 
To fly me away from this torturous agony - 
So, I painted your daffodil-mocking face - 
On my walls, yea, on my walls - to retrace.

I drew upon my cage your coral hair - 
A demon - I begged you me to spare - 
On my knees - worshiping - beseeching - 
With closed arms I'm reaching - 
Alas, I painted your daffodil-mocking face - 
Across my Schizophrenic encase - _ment_.

Your grin ripped off my skin - 
And sent me into a psychopath's confession for a baseless sin - 
You mentioned not your affection for me - 
But my love for you was as boundless as the sea - 
I painted your daffodil-mocking face - 
Along my wave-length & public disgrace.

I sold my soul for a glimpse of your wildflowers - 
Up on the shelf - looking down at me like so many towers - 
You scorned me - envious, mad & demonic - 
Then you smiled & rendered me catatonic - 
So, I painted your daffodil-mocking face - 
In spirals - in circles - upon my silk vase.

You rendered me clinically insane - my darling - 
I will - I _will_ imprison you - for abusing - 
My bittersweet reason - 
Inflicting my judgment with horrid lesions - 
Alas, I painted your daffodil-mocking face - 
Upon my soul which you de_base_d.

&#8230; My darling.​


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## Rest or Real? (Apr 1, 2011)

My Darling equals class. The ways to which I can relate; enthralling. Righteous.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Tenebrous said:


> My Darling equals class.


That's what I'm talkin' bout, yo.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

New poem! It's not as absolutely enthralling as My Darling. But still quite good. I haven't a title for it yet.

White willow, white willow - 
Drop your branches down - 
Shh - Don't make a sound - 
Here she comes in her gold gown - 
As I lay here facedown - 
in saffron daffodils.

White willow, white willow - 
Let your branches fall - 
Shh - upon the ground I crawl - 
She picks the petals - 
I feel the nettles - 
in saffron daffodils.

White willow, white willow - 
Hold still your leaves - 
Shh - silently I grieve - 
While she clearly conceives - 
During the midsummer eve - 
in saffron daffodils.

White willow, white willow - 
Shiver your limbs not - 
Shh - grotesque & stay - with me rot - 
She won't see us - in her blind spot - 
As she puts her crimson hair in a knot - 
in saffron daffodils.​


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## Rest or Real? (Apr 1, 2011)

I am a fan of your words. People seldom pull compliments past my teeth. The imagery you conjure, the mood, the melodramatic melancholy...Superb. While not as evoking in emotion as MD, it performs well, nonetheless. My two cents, American currency.


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## kesker (Mar 29, 2011)

Loved the photos. And the poem _Under my Stockings_. What a work ethic you must have to see all this through. It's motivating.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Tenebrous said:


> I am a fan of your words. People seldom pull compliments past my teeth. The imagery you conjure, the mood, the melodramatic melancholy...Superb. While not as evoking in emotion as MD, it performs well, nonetheless. My two cents, American currency.


I really appreciate having you as a fan.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

I love when one sits down to write with a certain idea, & it comes out completely different than one planned. Anyone experience that? I sat down to write about a truck, and I ended up writing about a Southern gal musing about suicide. :roll

A Pair O' Daffodils

I'm walkin' by the wayside, with my pair o' daffodils, 
mockin' the bottle of arsenide, in my hands. 
But I won't drink it, no, dear lord, I won't drink it. 
For it wouldn't be befittin', for a woman to be drinkin'.

I'm walkin' by the wayside, with my pair o' daffodils,
laughin' at the trains, choo chooin' by my face. 
O, darlin' Anna, was you laughin' as you jumped?
But I won't step in front, no, dear lord, I won't step in front. 
For it wouldn't be tasteful, for a woman to be so wasteful.

I'm walkin' by the wayside, with my pair o' daffodils, 
musin' at the sluggish ponds, still in my periphery. 
O, darlin' Ofelia, was you singin' as you drowned?
But I won't slip under, no, dear lord, I won't slip under. 
For it wouldn't be becomin', for a woman so stiff & numbin'.

So, I'm walkin' by the wayside, with my pair o' daffodils, 
smilin' at Death, whose cocktail party I'm attendin'. 
O, Lucifer, will my flowers wilt before I get there?
But I won't come so soon, no, dear lord, not so soon.
For it wouldn't be sublime, O darlin's, for me to leave before my time.​


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Uh oh. Did the Southern Gal commit suicide? Hmmm...

Southern Gal

Southern gal: Where'd your flirtin' flowers go?
Did ya drop them, holdin' down your skirts as the winds blow? 
Ya seem so dauntin' without your flirtin' flowers. 
But, alas, I haven't seen ya for hours.

Southern gal: How'd your crimson tendrils come undone?
When I saw ya, this mornin', was your journey just begun?
Pass the fields of cattle & daffodils, you was walkin'. 
Down along the green barn-house, I spied ya, stalkin'.

Southern gal: How was your skin becomin' so stiff?
Was you bending to tie your laces, as ya fell over the cliff?
I was on'y walkin' me greyhound, when I saw ya sprawled. 
Your face was still as porcelain, mine is still appalled.

Southern gal: Are ya in the bless'd company of God?
Should I have given, when the Pastor ask'd, a nod?
They wouldn't let ya be buried, without a bundle of strife. 
They said, me darlin', that ya took your own life.

Southern gal: I buried ya meself, wit the labour of a slave. 
& Strew a batch o' wild daffodils across ya grave.​


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## roxslide (Apr 12, 2011)

I like your photography! I think you have a nice sense of composition and a keen sense for the interesting.

I also wanted to say that I have the same teapot from the first photo you posted haha, Teavana, right?


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

roxslide said:


> I also wanted to say that I have the same teapot from the first photo you posted haha, Teavana, right?


Haha yes! I love the teapots at Teavana. They are so creative.


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## cgj93 (Dec 13, 2010)

i like that line of F-14s there, looks like a dusty aircraft carrier :lol

and is that the teapot you drank coffee out of?


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

skywatcher said:


> I do indeed experience that. That is actually the hardest part of the creative process for me - my mind gets so insistent on writing what it intended consciously to write about, and not what it _really_ wanted to write, that I usually end up with just a blank page. I'd be a prolific writer if I could get past that hurdle.


I'd say, just try to let loose, & whatever comes to mind. Write about that.  I think its too hard to write about what we "want" to write about haha. Since our creative mind has different ideas.



> The two "southern" poems are great, by the way - interesting contrast with your Greek-themed poems. Americana vs. classic myth.


I like to try different voices out for size sometimes. I think it has to do a little bit with my Bipolar, also. The fact that I'm inconsistent with identities. Don't even have a poetic identity, I keep flippin all over the place. 



LostIdentity said:


> i like that line of F-14s there, looks like a dusty aircraft carrier :lol


It's my brothers. 



> and is that the teapot you drank coffee out of?


Man, I really can't get used to people actually remembering my posts.


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## cgj93 (Dec 13, 2010)

haha! i remembered it because it was kinda odd... which is a good thing. you're quite a poet monroee, keep doing it


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

New poem. Decided to turn on "my darling". Not my best work, but I was bored today & wanted to try out a different theme.

The Hunt

I look at you behind my black veil. 
Blow my cigarette smoke & inhale.
I ravaged your daffodil-mocking dress askew. 
Run, my darling, for I'm hunting you.

I look at you behind my black veil. 
Your dead body in my hands: the Holy Grail. 
I broke your daffodil-mocking face in two. 
Run, my darling, for I'm hunting you.

I look at you behind my oh-so-black veil.
Your blood on my hands & I exhale. 
Your daffodils are expired, wilted, misconstrued. 
Run, oh run, my darling, for I'm hunting you.​


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## LALoner (Dec 3, 2008)

Monroee said:


> New poem! This one was so addicting to write, I didn't know when to stop myself. But I eventually wrapped it up with the last verse. :b
> 
> My Darling
> You set your witless eyes on me -
> ...


You wrote a poem about me!


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

LALoner said:


> You wrote a poem about me!


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## Rest or Real? (Apr 1, 2011)

I may be inspired. It's been many rotations of the sky's two monumental monitors. Monroee has paved way for an impulse of incentive. May even post something. Continue tapping into the void, scribe the words as flow finds you. 

Ps. How does your novel compare with what you've given here?


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Tenebrous said:


> Ps. How does your novel compare with what you've given here?


I'm glad you're inspired. 

I always held the opinion that my novel is better than any other work I've completed.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Lotus Flower

Yoga girl, crush your toes into your mat. 
Breathe in the dead air, breathe out the muteness. 
Be still, be elegant, like the lotus flower. 
Lose yourself in the Buddha's abyss.

Yoga girl, pull your limbs back towards terra firma. 
Breathe in the iron curtain, breathe out the lull. 
Be hushed, be majestic, like the lotus flower.
Encase yourself in the cry of the seagull.

Yoga girl, hold undistorted your spine. 
Breathe in the quietude, breathe out the sullenness. 
Be unruffled, be soundless, like the lotus flower.
Lose yourself, dear, lose yourself, in the Buddha's abyss.​


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

.


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## Canadian Brotha (Jan 23, 2009)

Lots of great work here Monroee! I've read a bunch of the poems outloud & enjoyed doing so. The photography is solid too


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Thanks Canadian Brotha! I do write my poems while saying them out loud, so I'm flattered you did so!  Here's another that was inspired by ---. The source of my OCD:

Repentant Narcissist

My Darling, I took your smile. 
Defiled it, muddied it & hung it to dry. 
I took your soul & made it mine. 
I killed us like an abortionist.
I'm sorry, my darling, is that all you need?
A repentant narcissist?

My Darling, I took your hair. 
Tore it, stranded it & hung it to dry. 
I took your coral colour & made it mine. 
I raped you like an alarmist. 
I'm sorry, my darling, is that all you need?
A repentant narcissist?

My Darling, I took your bones. 
Crushed them, snorted them & hung them to dry. 
I took your skin & made it mine. 
& I mixed it all together like an alchemist. 
I'm sorry, my darling, is that all you need?
A repentant narcissist?​


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Gun

hello - girl with the chinese butterfly tattoo - 
you linger in my memory - as the ink drips down - 
just like - coloured raindrops down satin skin - 
to settle down in the palm of hands.

hello - girl with the chinese butterfly tattoo - 
unlace your dress - withdraw the cotton - 
show me that pen once more - 
show me how you mutilated your shoulder-blades.

hello - girl with the chinese butterfly tattoo - 
surrender yourself unto my gun - 
I draw my art bound into your flesh - 
you're mine, my love - 
surrender - 
surrender yourself unto my gun.​


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## LALoner (Dec 3, 2008)

Monroee said:


> Gun
> 
> hello - girl with the chinese butterfly tattoo -
> you linger in my memory - as the ink drips down -
> ...


That was really good.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Salt from Lithuania

Annabella - my Bipolar Beauty - 
infect me with your mania - 
I'll take the salt from Lithuania - 
I will paint your deadly eyelid - 
which prompts me to forbid - 
you - from running amok down the lane - 
from jumping in front of a train - 
I'll restrain you like the lunatic you are - 
I'll trap you underneath the bell jar - 
where you will scream & screech - 
the doctor will have to leech - 
you - my darling - 
my coming-to-light starling - 
for your moods will move - 
will disapprove - 
of me & my straight jacket - 
which would you enclose in bracket - 
your flying insanity - 
your lack of humanity - 
Annabella - my Bipolar Beauty - 
infect me with your mania - 
I'll take the salt from Lithuania - 
I'll drink your arsenic - 
render me catatonic - 
you'll have fallen in the deep - 
in the unawakened sleep - 
I will shake you - rape you - 
but your lips turn blue - 
damn you! - 
you & your lovely collarbones - 
pelt me with stones - 
as I try to kiss you - 
while your hair flies askew - 
as you decline in your decrepit - 
bones in a basket - 
Annabella - my Bipolar Beauty - 
infect me with your mania - 
I'll take your salt from Lithuania - 
the racing thoughts that swim - 
nay - skim - 
across your mind - 
across the sanity you refined - 
madness can longer be defined - 
for by your hand it was designed - 
with a pencil of coal - 
while we both took a stroll - 
along the track of the moon - 
me with a lune - 
but suddenly, without a blink - 
swim or sink - 
you leaped into the lake - 
forcing the world to wake - 
in a rapid jolt - 
while you led the revolt - 
in the asylum - 
screaming of bedlam - 
that followed your train - 
that proved your vain - 
idea of infamous - 
craving for ubiquitous - 
omniscience - 
while your abscondence - 
from the scene - 
declared you a criminal queen - 
then all of a heartbeat - 
my darling sweet - 
fell into a melancholia - 
while I fell in necrophilia - 
for what is she but a corpse? 
That warps - 
my thoughts of her being - 
as her rosy cheeks are fleeing - 
being covered with sweet, sweet death - 
I made a bouquet of baby's breath - 
to cheer her spirit from its torpor - 
before it dissipates in vapor - 
Annabella - my Bipolar Beauty - 
infect me with your mania - 
I'll take the salt from Lithuania - 
awake, awake from your coma! 
Elicit once more your sweet aroma - 
Although I know - yes, I know - 
once more your eyes will aglow - 
with a shine of yellow - 
forgone the mellow - 
replace as such with a vibrant red - 
once again you'll behead - 
me - as you bleed from your eyes - 
your fancies that are unwise - 
Annabella - my Bipolar Beauty - 
infect me with your mania - 
I'll take the salt from Lithuania.​


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## MojoCrunch (Mar 25, 2011)

Your work keeps getting better and better Monroee. Especially those photos. I love exotic intricate stuff like that. Wish I had half the talent some of you guys have.


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## beanut (Jul 10, 2011)

beautiful work, do you have a website or blog?


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## Lachlan (Jul 3, 2008)

i like the choice of colours tones and shapes


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Coral

I've never felt a passion quite like this - 
I never foresaw this oceanic abyss - 
this rotting bliss - 
&#8230; this evanescent kiss. 
Please tell me you weren't an illusion - 
that this was no accidental collision - 
pray, you meant to inflict me with this confusion - 
that my poisoned suicide was supposed to be the conclusion. 
Did I see you that one time in the flesh?
Or did I simply cross the thresh- hold - 
of sanity? To see you afresh? 
So that in my mind we could together enmesh. 
May I, perhaps, have imagined your coral-self?
Surely, not a phantasy - were your wildflowers on the shelf - 
Nor your prancing - as a pixie, as an elf?
Oh - how I wish I could bury myself with thyself. 
I invented your death - 
mirroring Lady Macbeth - 
my dear - hold your breath - 
for I drowned you in a birdbath. 
Suicidal - pretty & clean - 
a cease of life like none have ever seen - 
I had written you an imperishable queen - 
in my mind as a tarnished machine. 
You, in all your horrid state, are haunting me - 
strapping me down on a gurney, you see - 
so tight that I may never flee - 
But do I really want to leave?

Siren

Red-Haired Siren - 
How dare you sing to me?
Sink back into your waves - 
drown in your own coral sea - 
Red-Haired Siren - 
How dare you climb aboard my ship?
I'll hang you for this, I swear - 
I offer no dear friendship - 
Red-Haired Siren - 
How dare you tempt me upon the rocks?
I'll have your head for this - 
Do you really think I'd open this Pandora's Box?
Red-Haired Siren -
I'm flattered at your attempt - 
But I'd rape you - not you me - 
Because I hold you in utter contempt.​


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## lonely metalhead (Apr 22, 2011)

^said it once I'll say it again I love your writing
I wish I could write like that


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Thank you so much. :blush


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## Ventura (May 5, 2009)

Good work !


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

I just wrote 15 sonnets & more pending for a collection called "Ofelia's Comedy". These are the first 3 sonnets. I'll post more later. I just don't want to post 15 all in one post. So, I'll post in threesomes. (& Yes - it is supposed to posted to the right.)

Ofelia's Comedy

Sonnet 1

I lie amidst the lily-pads & the leeches now. 
Drowning in murky grime. 
I had collapsed into this pond from a rickety bough.
My hands full of willow leaves & thyme.
I sang sweet lullabies & les berceuses de la bourgeoisie.
As I drift upon the gross surface of the water.
Papa - I pray I won't be late to tea.
For you know I always strove to be the doting daughter.
I overflowed the pond, beware the flash flood.
For I'm not the only body encased in this mud.

Sonnet 2

The manifestation of Hamlet & all my trifling troubles.
All in Lucifer's Hell murdered me.
& Now I suck in fluid & blow out bubbles.
But, papa, mine was the worst, you see.
I can't blame, scream & screech at Hamlet alone.
My own blood betrayed my dream.
But, I admit, to all this I was sadly prone.
Against my will, my end became the theme.
My heart was on my cheek, painted scarlet.
All my sanity came crashing down, down below Hamlet.

Sonnet 3

Dear my love, why are you feigning madness?
Can't you visualize mine is true?
Your name would become ageless.
But I, I am the only one to bid you "adieu".
You spoke your nonsense, you played your riddles.
But did you not see my too real melancholia?
While you laughed at your daft imbeciles.
You failed to notice I suffered from worse than catatonia.
I took your love letters. Crushed them, snorted them.
& Hung them for mayhem.​


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## Rest or Real? (Apr 1, 2011)

intrigued, more now please.


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## TheOutsider (Mar 4, 2010)

Wow. You're amazing!


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Thanks! ^

I think I'll try my hand at drawing. This should be very interesting.. & Probably a downer. Hahaha. I'll let you guys know how horrible I turn out to be.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

The Bugs at the Coffee Shop

soft swirls of heat are in the air - 
they click away on their metal machines - 
whirring fans of mechanical intelligence - 
waiting for a malfunction to blow all to smithereens.
But nothing compares to the fluttering - 
of their insect wings - 
buoyant - 
such vile, vulgar little things. 
They drift to the counter - 
to claim their coffees - 
pick up their triple-shot low-fat milk cinnamon dolce coconut skim mocha lattes - 
swarming the scent of such like little honeybees. 
Bugs in their top hats & tuxedos - 
I sit here overwhelmed by the swarms of tornadoes - 
tornadoes of bugs in the coffee shop. 
Bugs in the coffee shop.​


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## lonely metalhead (Apr 22, 2011)

EarlGreyDregs said:


> The Bugs at the Coffee Shop
> 
> soft swirls of heat are in the air -
> they click away on their metal machines -
> ...


Yet another awesome poem keep it up you got real talent here


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## Bloody Pit Of Horror (Aug 15, 2011)

Nice photography and I am flabbergasted by your poetic voice. 

Wow keep that innerspring flowing. You're amazing. :yes

I look forward to reading your historical novel, ARN.


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

.............................................


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## lonely metalhead (Apr 22, 2011)

EarlGreyDregs said:


> Hey guys -
> 
> So - I put my poetry & a short story into an ebook/download if any one is interested in supporting me.  It's 1.99. Most of it is poetry you've already seen, but you also get the rest of the sonnets of Ofelia's Comedy which you saw on the last page - & you also get a short story that I swore I was gonna keep private... Based on my delusions when I was in the mental hospital about my roommate... Haha. Anyways - here it is..
> 
> ...


Well more your your awesome poetry I'm all over that. I'm gonna check it out, I'd love to read more. Keep it up


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Thank you! Wow - you're like my biggest fan. :boogie


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## Monroee (Aug 26, 2009)

Well - I received my first rejection from a literary agent this morning. I only sent out one query so far. I did one & then I lost confidence. The rejection was really nicely put however, it wasn't harsh. So I'm not upset about it or anything. I expected it. My work is rather unique. I need to find someone willing to take a risk.


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## Rest or Real? (Apr 1, 2011)

the fact that you put yourself out there says loads of positivity about you.


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## Help please (Dec 9, 2011)

I love photography and art... I'm at college doing the latter, but may opt in to a photo course too...


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## offbyone (May 5, 2010)

You are seriously talented! I wish I did such productive things with my free time.


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## lonelyjew (Jan 20, 2010)

You have solid composition, but consider moving onto more interesting subjects. A solid composition of a boring every day object unfortunately makes for a boring photo. Don't get me wrong, you clearly have a good eye, just that if you put that eye to use with non household objects, you might get some amazing photos.


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