Weather Balloon

This is the writing lab of a girl who is decidedly not a writer.

[weatherballoon-blog]

Nyx & Hel

Come on, come on she said we'll be queens of darkness she said with a hand in my hair and her mouth on my neck

The men won’t want us she said they’ll be no prayers no temples, and no tears but that’s not how worship works she said they’ll need us she said blood needs veins gold needs greed light needs shadow she said that’s not how worship works

Come on, come on she said we’ll slip off into the night I’ll take the stars and you take their souls and no one will see your rotten side or the white white bones below your thighs she said give me this, I swear I’ll worship you myself she said come on, come on

[weatherballoon-blog]

Two by Two

  Rain is coming, Noah.

So build your boat and sail away,

Take your tigers and your dreams

And build a new world.

  Storm is coming, Noah.

So board your boat and sail away,

Take your demons and your doves

And build a new world.

  Flood is coming, Noah.

In droplets, two by two

Take your olive branch

And build a new world. 

[gaksdesigns]

Tumblr artist Sorie Kim

[weatherballoon-blog]

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Reunions (poem)

Small town dreams fading sunsets parked cars broken cassettes  memories you could never forget burning in the glow of your cigarette Twilight

"I used to be in a rock band," she said.

"I used to have my whole life planned," he said.

"Then I moved out here where the winter gets cold."

"Then I moved out here where the people get old."

Tell me stories while we look at the stars above the haze of the neon bars the underworld doesn't seem very far in the glow of your cigar Midnight

"I thought that you would understand," she said.

"But I am such a simple man," he said.

"Then I moved out here where the winters get cold."

"Then I moved out here where the people get old."

And the limelight blocks out the starlight and this role doesn't feel right so drop the walls and hold them tight for the morning won't bring Daylight

"I used to be in a rock band," she said.

"I used to have my whole life planned," he said.

"Then I moved out here where the winter gets cold."

"Then I moved out here where the people get old."

[weatherballoon-blog]

Something (poem)

Cat’s eye immortality nine lives to bleed and to blur And I I never found that boy in white who said he’d take me for a ride to a quiet casino Though I asked him what’s inside.

An unlucky black cat you like the way my spine curves The glitter and the glamour and the way I t  r   i    p over my words But, Angel, all I’ve got is cordial cheeks and a landmine history And, demon Daddy, I swear it ain’t like that I’ve just never seen true blue before.

Lucifer’s falling star landed in the desert sand But all we all we all we are is rotting clay and rotting man Another day, another dollar another mother, another daughter nine lives and nine hour shifts I’ve just never felt cold like that before.

Las Vegas or London you lose it, you’ve won it and it’s scattered by the breeze But oh, oh no Where do we go? A flash, a flicker, a fade Old bones, alone I’ll die on my own Time well time can have you. But there in your face, your youth, the truth, I found something akin to grace.

[weatherballoon-blog]

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[weatherballoon-blog]

Wild Violets (poem)

Wild Violets

How does the countryside of France look through different colored glass?

Your satin shoes and linen dress are getting soaked in the rain sliding wet and heavy across your skin sucking on your rib cage and wrapped around your legs with your hem drinking up the mud and the dark, dark dirt

His brown eyes and brown house are stifling your breath, coughing wet and heavy from your lungs raindrops slip sliding down your palm pressed to the window glass looking out over the mud and your dark, dark dreams Your fragile frame and naïve hopes are tossed in the turbulent storm like wild violets oppressed wet and heavy by the rain destroyed on their own hills by the slide of the mud and the dark, dark earth

[weatherballoon-blog]

Cutting Room Floor: Raspberries (poem)

Raspberries

Summer Summer of my sixteenth year that sticky sweet season He grew raspberries - on dirty garden knees, and quietly I peeked   through those curtains.

Summer   Summer of my solace pink lipped innocence his momma baked pies and cakes and obsessively I’d wait behind those curtains.

Summer  Summer of sweetest sighs I dreamed of raspberry eyes and dirty hands and summer smiles and “see you in a while” wind blew open the curtains.

Summer Summer such a dream He tasted of raspberries - of fruit and thorns and sun and scorn I opened my curtains. 

Summer Summer of my sixteenth year that sticky sweet season He grew raspberries - on dirty garden knees, and quietly He drew closed the curtains. 

[weatherballoon-blog]

[weatherballoon-blog]

Marble Jar #1: Story Ideas That Just Won't Quit

Five ghosts find one another in a calm, provincial yet dystopian afterlife landscape (think Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go). The ghosts are completely invisible to humanity, and are all unnerved by this. They know they are dead, but have no memories of how they died or who they were in life. They instinctively (unexplainedly) know that in order to "pass on" they must uncover what happened to them when they were alive. They travel the countryside (only venturing into cities when absolutely necessary) hunting for "triggers" to their pasts. The rather naive and unassuming ghosts are fast friends and share some witty dialogue, especially with a hairbrained Irish medium with whom they occasionally communicate. 

     However, the first ghost (male) eventually discovers that he died in a fire trying to save his wife and daughter (who were also killed). The second ghost (male) discovers he was placed in a nursing home by the state to die alone from cancer. The third ghost (female) discovers she was a suicide. None of these three ghosts pass on, as they planned, because they can't reconcile this information with "who" they've become as ghosts. The fourth and fifth ghosts (one male, one female who have been growing closer...well, as close as two ghosts can grow) are now wary of unearthing their pasts as well. The fourth ghost (male) discovers he died in the car crash that also killed his best friends. He was also a devout Hindu before his death, and now suddenly doesn't understand why he was not reincarnated. The four ghosts become angry, and their group begins to fight and disband. The fifth ghost (also the narrator) ends the book explaining that her friends have become restless spirits/poltergeists who haunt the areas they have traveled through. The story ends inconclusively with the fifth ghost still searching for who she was. 

Themes/Ideas = self-perception vs. external perception, actions vs. words, importance of history/knowledge when shaping self-image, is there a "true" essence of a person or is everything shaped by our life experiences/choices we make?