June 7, 2013 / 2:18PM 2 notes

New Orleans Circus Romance

There’s a special place for you here,

with the one eyed men, the angry drunk clowns,

the gypsies and their folk songs, where people fall in love,

like a sword swallower musician and a classic beauty young lady,

the back alley deals of their devious behavior,

the smile, not sure if it’s evil or really that happy..

the music begins to play, accordion in the distance

almost stirring up spirits,

voodoo magik being stirred up, like a martini

fast, faster, taking you up

to the swamp of Bourbon Street.

Where all the nosy guests who’ve done wrong are sent to exile. With hurricanes in their hands,

as the wind howls,

as the banjos of the bayou play,

hearing old men tell their stories, their superstitions,

and lessons of old, of a different time, a different place.

The circus welcomes you!

Come see the wonderment!

The Ringleader will lead you to each illusion and to the amazing sideshow attractions,

Among all this oddity,

there is oohing and aahhhing, a few gasps here and there

with the exception of anyone noticing of a young girl’s last breath

who knew young love and wanderlust could lead to this?

An old pasttime is now a place for murder?

She was either succumbed to the traveling troupe or the mystery of the voodoo spells?

The crystal ball isn’t of any aid.

The little people, the Siamese twins, the bearded lady are all living as normal.

The tent rolls up, trucks loaded, it leaves to the next town,

unknowing of the young death…

(Source: moviesmusicart)

late night writingpersonaldear diarymy writingpoetryspilled ink

Text post
January 18, 2013 / 4:04PM 7 notes

Click. Tweet. Refresh.

Always plugged in, online, connected.
Looking at a screen. Constantly!
What happened to handwritten letters?
What happened to using our phones— AS PHONES?
When the world wasn’t abbreviated?
Where clicking refresh. Refresh. Refresh.
Buttons clicking, mouses dragging. Right click. Double click.
Online now. MySpace photos.
Fit a thought in less than 140 characters.
Tweet. Tweet. Tweet.
Change profile picture.
Will that express who I am to the world wide web?
Status update.
How am I feeling?
None of your goddamn business.
Tag friend. Instead of actually seeing them.
When did clicking a thumbs up mean support?
500 friends and only 5 you can count on.
When being off the grid is a craving
I can’t deny,
When we rely
On these devices for basic function. 

(Source: moviesmusicart)

poetrymy wordsfrom the slamslam poetryspilled ink

Text post
January 1, 2013 / 3:07PM 17 notes

The Worst & Best


You will take the best
I will take the worst of you
So it always goes

(via hanlonwrites-deactivated2013102)

poetryhaikuspilled ink

Text post
October 11, 2012 / 10:07PM 4 notes


No matter where I go
You can see me smiling
It’s the people in my life
That keep me driving.
My motivation is something
That only belongs to me.

(Source: healingfeeling)

poetryspilled ink

Text post
August 26, 2012 / 9:43PM 32 notes

The Blank


I stay up late
and I don’t know why.

I wake up early
and I don’t know why.

The blank in between
is where I see your face.

The blank between
the lines is where I waste

All the time I have
thinking of you.

All the time I had

I thought of you.

(via hanlonwrites-deactivated2013102)

PoetryYouSpilled ink

Text post
August 24, 2012 / 10:47AM 6 notes

the kind of design


inside of a mind

full up to the brim

with echos of old

and dreams yet to spin

but each night is cold

despite all the sugar 

she adds on her own.

poemmerisongbirdspilled ink

Text post
August 11, 2012 / 4:20AM 37 notes


When time does not exist
and there’s nothing to wear
on your wrist
and new memories cannot be made,

live in the present

and make the best of every moment
because it is your first and your last.
You have a past
but no future,
all is happening at the same time
and I can’t suture the wound
in your…

(via hanlonwrites-deactivated2013102)

PoetrySpilled ink

Link post
June 26, 2012 / 6:24PM 6 notes


Each fiber
       from shoulder
          to shoulder
          each whisper
          of muscle
          and both
          when lead
          is carried
          in my veins
Each step
          yet another
          yet another
          dawn breaks. 

(Source: sheddinpetals)

poetryspilled ink

Text post
June 21, 2012 / 5:25AM 25 notes

Seek to Survive


The beating
of hideous hearts
is all I hear
repeating in my ears
and the gloom has closed
around my smoky room.
No amount of cigarettes
will slow my pulse,
skin crawls
and revulsion
at my very self
has infected me.
I’m one of them,
not dead and not alive;
a zombie and now
I just seek to survive.

(via hanlonwrites-deactivated2013102)

PoetrySpilled ink

Text post
May 6, 2012 / 2:11AM 34 notes


One day we woke up so many years ago with no novelty left, and that was the final straw for our so-called love. We bottled it up and tossed it to sea, never once turning to wave goodbye as it sailed through the tumultuous storm brewing, forming just for us and our discarded…

prosewritingspilled inkpast

Link post