Ginsberg

I took your request, Cerasi, for the last one.  However, I thought making a series from Howl would be most fun.  It was!  Enjoy!

I.

II.

Footnote

Douglas Adams

Clearly I need to read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy now.
Enjoy, Cerasi!

And do not fear!  There shall be more to come...

Bits of Authorial Wisdom

I made this at the request of Ada.

She continued to send me quotes.  She did say not to make any more designs with them. 

But I don't always listen...

So send me your quotes, if you want a design to accompany them!

Where I'm From

~ places I've called home ~

For Once

I'm really getting into designing random things now...  Any requests?

More ZK

Read the previous post first, if you haven't already done so. This poem is a little creepy. Enjoy.

_______________________________________________________________________

Huntress Returns

Knife dripping,

High-heeled boots up on the table,

Faux diamond studded wrist bands covering

defensive wounds.

ZK comes fresh from a kill.

He struggled mightily,

Trying to resist that low cut

                blouse those

                high cut leggings her

                high brow, low brow wit, wet with

                sin, her eyes with the promise that

                no one you have ever met was

                anything like this.

It was her wrist,

                The way she flicked the ash from the cigar

                She smoked it in full while playing Skee-Ball

                and humming Beethoven’s Fifth.

That was right before she got him to cry

                and tell her about his deadbeat father before

                eating her out.

The knife on the table is still warm from him.

Sacrificed on its edge,

He saw paradise for a small fee.

She saw it too.

Alter Egos

Hello, lovely POW ladies (and Tyrion who NEVER EVER READS),

I thought I'd follow up my ridiculously long previous post with this creative one. I've been thinking about alter egos a lot lately. Obviously super heroes have mild mannered alter egos and normal people can have violent ones vis-a-vis Tyler Durden from Fight Club, but I think alter egos can also be a way of thinking about and conceptualizing a part of yourself that is hard to deal with. Lately, I've been realizing that self love is a big struggle for me and I need to find a way I can embrace and deal with even the parts of me that may not be as pretty. I know Ada has spent a lot of time conceptualizing her own muses with the Woman in White and Woman in Black, and this feels like sort of a similar creative/emotional exercise for me.

That brings me to this creative endeavor. I made up an alter ego called ZK. She's a hyper-violent, hyper-sexual, quasi goth/punk, smoking/drinking debaucherous woman. Though a lot of her tendencies are self-destructive or violent, there is also a part of her that is protective toward the innocent. Ultimately, even though a lot of parts of her are crazy, she is not all bad. She's sort of my id.

I've been writing sort of narrative poetry (is that a thing) and short stories about her that are all in one document on my computer. Whether or not they're going to go anywhere, I'd like to share a couple of poems with you here.

Without further ado, introducing the lovely ZK.

                                                                                                              

A Declaration from the Lady Herself

Ladies,

Penis-Havers,

Those with Genitalia of Other Varieties or Names,

I wish to address you today, as your new goddess.

Yes, this does mean you’ll have to give up

                your milquetoast deities.

Lords of fund management and fiscal responsibility,

Idols of kept seconds, stored for hard times,

And lesser cherubs of tepid love and measured euphoria.

Rough, man,

                It’s hard to give up mediocrity I know.

But I promise, in its place you will find,

                The life of lust licked lips and vibrating rosaries,

                A renewed commitment to taking illicit substances from strangers

                                and empty calories from exuberant (but largely alien) lovers,

                And a world of promise

                                And dangers,

                                And terrible, lip-biting surrender,

                To that thing you haven’t even admitted you want yet.

All hail ZK.

Goddess in chief.

Haver of subjects and worshippers.

Bringer of hedonistic revival to the boredom scorched

night scene.

True

It wasn’t love,

                that drove her to it.

Writing crazy notes and leaving them on the top of his

water heater.

Buying him little trinkets,

like that locket from his dead mother,

and burying them

in his house plants.

It wasn’t love, exactly,

                that made her follow him.

Through the streets of his neighborhood,

Sitting on his porch at midnight, smoking a blunt,

Carving love songs into the wood of his door frame.

Something darker drove those urges.

But that night when she was breaking into his basement,

                and fell through that skylight

                to discover his little sister crying in the cellar.

Sixteen-years-confused and heart a wreck,

Self esteem flowing out of little sister’s eyes,

Skewed vision of beauty showing in the borrowed eye shadow and the

                cuts on the inside of her too-skinny arms.

ZK got up and brushed off the glass.

She leaned over and took the girl’s face in her hand,

And squished it hard.

“It’s such a shame that they’ll all have to go through life

                never realizing,

                how beautiful you are.”

ZK then got up,

declared her intention to ransack the boy’s underthings,

kissed the girl on the cheek,

and left.

That.

That was love.

The hardest and best kind,

Love of a stranger to the needy,

Love of other.

Love of self.

More Design!

This also comes from a quote from a Janet Evanovich book.