Ishtar• Show poetry

Sometimes we write because our mouth fail us and sometimes we write because our mouth didn't fail us when we needed it to fail us. We spoke until we had nothing to speak of except to speak of speaking and so it tired out. Died, if you will. Thus, leaving the dirty work to our brains, 'cept our brains tire out too with all that imagination and mind paint and canvas, so it vomits all over paper. It vomits very eloquently sometimes (and not so eloquently other times, which is the case most of the time here on AP).

Below, you'll taste a bit of my vomit because my mouth never shuts up when theres nothing good to say and it tires out quickly and becomes mute when there is something good to say (effects of natural blondeism, maybe?), so my imagination and true feelings are shown in bits of poetry and prose and sometimes just writings of nonsense here in this virtual poetry book. I hope you enjoy.



Oh, and side note: My name is Renelle. I am English born, living in Canada, enjoying the moonlight from my roof on breezy summer nights; attending university for Molecular Biology and Genetics and running around the city to vent stress. I play the piano, pet my dogs, paint like my life depends on it and I manage to sit down and sing Oh McDonald's Had a Farm every now and then. That's all, I think. Have a good browse.










Update: I have written several pieces of vomit that I can't seem to find the time to edit and post! I deserve a kick and half but I am getting there, Ok? OK!