|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Marymount ManhattanI told Joey I want to go to Marymount Manhattan
He looked quite shocked, so I questioned him
He said, “No, I just thought you’d stay in town”
And suddenly I felt compelled to admit something
Something I’ve never admitted aloud to anyone
He’s like family to me, so I could be completely candid
I said, “As difficult as Columbia was
I learned a lot about myself, and I feel like,
If I stay, I’ll stay here and stagnant forever
So I have to go elsewhere, and see what comes of it”
I looked him right in the eyes as I spoke
My adoptive family members are eye-contact masters
He then said, “Good, I’m proud"
Spring Semester 2014Typing up old poems is always so weird
Since within a month or two
It seems my entire inner reality has changed
Meaning the poems change to me
Yet I have to try to insure the original meaning
Though now I may have it figured it out
Or now I might be struggling more
But I type them up and submit
And feel the need to add a disclaimer
“Views expressed in this poem
May not be endorsed by the author
At this time of posting
Though I am the soul who wrote it
So once it was my truth"
Watermelon Gum After CoffeeWatermelon gum after coffee tastes so nice
It reminds me of Freshmen year
The first one-
The good one-
The SPCPA one-
And nowadays anything that reminds me of fond memories-
No matter how old or small
Is welcomed with open arms
More Than A Woman Or A ManI don’t like that I tend to refer to Hedwig by male pronouns-
I know it’s fairly ambitious and I know xe is fictional
but I feel like I’m betraying some vast something when I do-
I feel like calling a character I identify as a lyrical savior “He" and “Him”
only goes to show my stereotypical helplessness
I know it’s silly but I don’t want to contribute to statistics that say
people see neutral and human as male
Hedwig is worth more than that to me
Bus Stop Creep #8543051I hate that “no”
is not enough
for miserable souls who, when I ignore them
approach and corner me, and say
with utmost and erroneous belief
that they must be the first
on this entire planet
to call me pretty
and then have the audacity to, in the next breath
proclaim “you’re too young for me”
as if I were in any way “for them”
and even that doesn’t stop them, though
I’ve grown snark, like a crystalline defense mechanism
but then they say
they like that I’m feisty
and I have to stop myself
since I’m not brave enough to scream at them
since I fear potential violence
yet I am told
I still haven’t learned my lesson
as if it were mine to have to learn
want to rip my heart out
“Here, have this”
but I at least now know
who are the souls
to offer it up to
Fictionally Falling In LoveAfter I saw
John Cameron Mitchell
I swooned so much
and kept singing in my brain
“So in love
So in love
So in love with you, my love, am I”
which is from Kiss Me Kate
so I’m kinda glad
that Hedwig isn’t real
because I would be a groupie
and I'd fall in love
but since Hedwig is fictional
I don’t have to worry
since being in love with someone fictional
at least seems safe
Lullaby of BroadwayI told my mum
that I would love to go to NYC
for the sheer knowledge
that broadway exists there
meaning I’ll likely come across other MT dorks
meaning they’ll get my Musical Theatre references
I remember at Columbia
amidst my difficult fifteen weeks
I got so upset in an acting class
not due to the usual jerk stuff
but because literally no one understood my references
to Chicago (ironic as all hell)
to The Producers (my scene partners were named Max and Leo)
no one even got a HAMLET reference
yet people who’ve never seen or read it know it decently
but it doesn’t seem like that big of a thing
but if the people
who claim to be all over something
seem to avoid any pop culture related to it
it feels like a warning sign
or at least an oddity
so I should hope
if I roam the streets of NYC
stalking Hedwig’s eyes outside of the Belasco
I’ll at least overhear some conversations
about how fabulous Alan Cumming is
or a joke by tourists from Santa Fe ab
Posted 41 Minutes AgoI adore
being obsessed with musicals
and having one to cling to
when I felt as though I lost everything
when all I had to lose
was imagined middle school “status”
my “you don’t need to crumble"
was 'Sweeney Todd'
when my grandaddy died
and I saw my tutu
age more in one year
than her prior seven decades
my “this can be your mourning"
when what I thought was certainty shattered
and brought my sanity with it
to the point
where my certain sadness
seems like an unwelcome soulmate
‘Hedwig and the Angry Inch’
is my “You are not to blame
The world’s a vicious place”
Neil Patrick Harris said
"the show is an important piece of work
for “people who don’t feel heard,”"
and that’s how I felt when I found it
I no longer have to deal
with that precise cause
once that ball is in motion
it’s pretty hard to stop
But because of Hedwig
I have reassessed myself
to the point where
at the very least
I know what&
How to be Populardon’t talk
go to parties
listen to friends
go with the flow
drink some more
don’t let them see the tears
as you cry yourself to sleep
for the most important thing
is to be popular
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
The sound of silenceThe sound of silence,
Is so deafening,
That it makes my ears ring,
With the cacophony of my own insanity.
Being afraid to speakThe unpleasantries of past events
Were driven by the voices of contempt
Leaving me breathless
To that effect, I was left senseless
And when I laid under the covers
As I tried to warm myself from the cold stares
I shiver, as my skin turned white
By the solace of silence
But, as I overcame their sadness
I learned to embrace the cold
Until I was able to give warmth to others
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
I was so mean, my god was I mean, and you were the innocent archetype. You were never that open, or naive after that year. I feel like I broke you, but it took me so long to realize, and now I cannot apologize since, I'm sure, you don't remember. Many of the people I hurt don't remember me, but my words shaped their souls and I wish I could take all that back. It's true, you know, those that are hurt tend to hurt others, but you are anomalistically kind, and I wish I could be as devoted to anything in life as you were to everything. You'll make it I swear, even while I am stuck. I'll be your Renfield, perhaps then I'll earn your forgiveness.
Keep in Touch!
Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More