Poetry: Marlon Brando

He had so much love for me

That it often made him crazy

Yelling from the streets

Like Marlon Brando

Shouting, “Stella!”

He had so much love for me

That he wasn’t sure how to suffocate it

Often his mannerisms were crude

Thinking that I owed him

Affection, thinking he were

Marlon Brando and who always

Got the girl

He had so much love for me

That it poisoned him from the inside

Because rejection was seen as disdain

But pity has no place for passion

Nor can a friendship be forced

Into a relationship

Because he wasn’t Marlon Brando

And the script I wrote

Didn’t cast him as the hero

He merely had a supporting role

I didn’t want him at my premiere

Nor did I want him shouting

Beneath my window, “Stella!”

Thinking he were Marlon Brando.

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Poetry: Insomniac

Some nights I wish I could simply sleep soundly

Clutching nothing but your photo

But some nights

The fact that you’re only a photograph for me

Now

Is enough to keep me up all night.

Did you enjoy this poem? You can find this poem and many others in Lost Girls Go Everywhere: Poetry & Prose on Amazon!

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Poetry: Supernova

Summers spent with sticky fingers

And cotton candy kisses

The Luna Park was our campground

Of our young love

Dancing to terrible music on repeat

Drinking rum and coke

You were the patron saint of vice

Blowing smoke rings and

Your hand in my hair

Whenever I’d suck your cock

Trying to be edgy

Wearing a torn I Love LA top

My lipstick smeared like Harley Quinn

Flying in the night on your motorcycle

The wind in my hair

Feeling free

Stars flowing from our wrists

Instead of blood

We were magical

We were invincible

We were one.

***

Did you enjoy this poem? You can find this poem and many others in Lost Girls Go Everywhere: Poetry & Prose on Amazon!

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Poetry: First Cuts Kill

broken-heart-candy

I should’ve known I was set up for heartbreak

The moment my eyes settled upon you

You were a modern Mozart

Wild hair and hands that could create

The most beautiful music

I yearned to be your piano

I wanted to be your favorite song

Maybe if I hadn’t been so young

I would’ve known that you were

A beautiful disaster

I had so much love for you

Just bursting at the seams with affection

I would’ve given anything to be your girl

But I didn’t know what to do

My teenage days were filled with a

Poe-ridden depression

Because I kept trying to make you mine

Always chasing your love

Not knowing that your heart

Was never something I could steal

Facing the world like I had been locked

In Mr. Rochester’s attic

Screaming at the injustice

Of being unloved

Not knowing that only some of us

Are meant to be the heroines

While the rest of us are forced to be

The villains

When I finally vomited my heart

Leaving it on your doorstep

You pitied my frailty

Wishing me good luck

But had I been lucky

I never would’ve met you.

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Short Story: I’m Coming

photo of couple kissing in hallway

Photo by Flora Westbrook on Pexels.com

….and it’s over before I know it. A brief instant of ecstasy that fills me up to the brim.

Creating rainbow-colored clouds beneath my feet lifting me up to momentary heaven.

I am standing below the stage looking up at you. You stand over me with a regal posture. You own the universe. Your vibrant voice rings in my ears; it slides beneath every single pore to become a part of me. To become one with my essence.

Your eyes dive into mine. I can feel you swimming in my veins. You offer me a smile. I return it. You begin to walk down the stage stairs. The lights following every single minimal move you make.

The air is balmy inside the venue. My black lace top clings to my dewy skin. I try not to pay attention to the pain that shoots up and down my legs like miniature electric bolts. Five hours of standing on eight-inch heels make me realize that I hadn’t thought about the possible torture that I was going to subject myself to when I had pulled my knee-high leather boots over my feet.

You pass by the shouting girls. They are dying for your attention. But your eyes are locked on mine. I don’t look away. I fall into your gaze. I am going down a one-way spiral, and at the end of it, there is only you. I am taken into another realm…

Our bodies compress in a sweaty haze. You cling to my lips, sucking on them. Not wanting to let me go. Brown curls fell carelessly over your eyes. My hand reaches up to move them away. I am breathless. I want to savor the moment, as it was my last.

Breath against breath, lips against lips, naked flesh against naked flesh…

“Don’t forget to keep me alive in your mind,” you sing to me as I jump out of my daydream.

Your movements are graceful, feline. I can only plead that you will come nearer.

“Remember me whenever you feel obscene.”
Your eyes are burning tiny crevices in the center of my irises. My body is all giving. As well as all receiving.

And then you touch me….

That voice…those eyes…my hand traveling down the contours of my body. It runs over my plump breasts, my thumbnail grazing over my nipples. It shifts down to my navel and passes it, lowering itself down a little further. My hand is greeted by softness. My two fingers probe at its entrance that is enveloped in musky wetness.

There’s no need for knocking, a simple push and the door is opened. The two fingers cruise down a dark and humid corridor, a thrilling chill tingles throughout my body. I smile at you.

“Remember me whenever you feel obscene.”

Suddenly I can’t control my fingers anymore. They have a life of their own as they break into a frenzied rhythm. Faster…faster…faster…

I hear a shrill in my ears and my breath gets caught in my lungs but my fingers don’t stop. Faster…faster…faster…

My body is burning. Sweat slithers down like a sensuous snake. I feel a pounding in my head as though my membrane is being nailed to my skull.

I see you. I hear you.

And my body abandons itself to the senses. The wetness around my fingers contracts, tightening its grip on them. The wetness increases. It swells up like water in a dam until the dam is broken and there’s no turning back. Shocks race up and down my body. My vision blurs. Your face becomes a tapestry of vibrant colors. And then it fades to the bleakest black. The wetness releases its iron grip on my fingers. Liberating them in a yielding manner. They slide out of the murky tunnel restless and defeated.

I bring my hand up to my lips. My tongue flickers at the opaque whiteness coated on my fingers. You smile at me. I smile back.

Your hand loosens its grasp on my shoulder. You walk away. I am breathless. My knees feel weak as though they’re going to give in. I see you walking back up towards the stage. You look down at me and smile. I smile back at you, my body pricking from the aftershocks. My breath comes back to me. I am able to breathe again. My heart slows down to a normal sequence. My fingers are coated with your glitter. My tongue flutters at the tiny red specs of luminance. You smile down at me. I smile back. The pain in my feet makes itself be heard again. I look down.

“See you next time!” you shout.

I look up in time to see you smile at me one last time. I smile back and blow you a kiss that you pay no attention to.

My senses go dormant and it’s over before I know it.

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Poetry: California Wildfire

fire

Our first kiss was in the depths of a

Fetish Room

It was summer, the time of year

For love to blossom like wild daisies

We burned bright and dangerous

A forest fire gone rogue

Suddenly, I felt more daring

Not thinking about tomorrow

The killer of passion

All I wanted to think about

Was how your kisses

Ignited fireworks in me

Exploding into the brightest colors

Whenever we were in the same room

We transformed into a danger zone

Our flames devouring the walls

And although our hearts had

No fire escape to lead us out

We kept on playing Russian roulette

Loading our guns with six bullets

Because death by love

Was ultimately better than

A slow, tedious death.

***

Did you enjoy this poem? You can find this poem and many others in Bleed Like Me: Poems for the Broken

Celebrate National Poetry Month!

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Love or Hype? Bridge Jones’ Diary Movie

bridget

I’ll admit that I’m not a huge fan of the rom-com genre. Mostly because it always creates unrealistic expectations of relationships and also of love. Real life is much more brutal, and I know many girls love watching this genre as a form of escapism. Having said that, I decided that I was going to check out a very famous rom-com from 2001, Bridge Jones’ Diary. For years I’ve heard how amazingly funny this movie is and how relatable the protagonist Bridget is. Ultimately, I decided to check it out and thought that if I wouldn’t enjoy it, at least I got to see London (my favourite city ever) for an hour and a half.

bridget2

Bridget (Renée Zellweger) is 32, and somehow in 2001 that meant she was old and heading towards spinster-ville. This thought horrified me, but I guess maybe it’s something that’s still happening now and I’ve just never worried about getting married by a certain age. Bridget is a fun character and very relatable. She’s pretty but slightly overweight (for early aughts standards), doesn’t feel appreciated at her job, and has still not managed to snag the man of her dreams, Daniel (played by a very charismatic Hugh Grant).

bridget3

However, life takes a turn for the better for Bridget and she begins to date Daniel. All seems amazingly awesome, a little too awesome till her life starts to derail yet again. I really loved the fact that Bridget, although she really yearned for a stable relationship and was head over heels in love with Daniel she still had enough self-respect to know that she deserved more than his cheating lousy ass ways.

bridget4

Renée Zellweger’s performance as Bridget Jones’ was flawless despite an initial controversy that an American actress would embody such a quintessential British heroine. Needless to say, she was nominated for an Academy Award for her performance (although she didn’t win that year).

Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to enjoy the movie as much as I did and I can say without a doubt that this movie is well worth the hype. If you haven’t seen it yet, do yourself a favor and check it out. It’s by far one of the best rom-coms out there.

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Book Review: Jack Kerouac is Dead to Me by Gae Polisner

jack

“I lie back on his pillow, my head spinning, and for one split second, I think how crazy it will be when I get home and tell Aubrey everything. But that’s wrong: that won’t happen. She and I are barely friends anymore.”

Release Date: April 7, 2020

Pre-order on Amazon!

Publisher: Wednesday Books

Price: $18.99 (hardcover)

Plot Summary:

Fifteen-year-old JL Markham’s life used to be filled with carnival nights and hot summer days spent giggling with her forever best friend Aubrey about their families and boys. Together, they were unstoppable. But they aren’t the friends they once were.
With JL’s father gone on long term business, and her mother struggling with her mental illness, JL takes solace in the tropical butterflies she raises, and in her new, older boyfriend, Max Gordon. Max may be rough on the outside, but he has the soul of a poet (something Aubrey will never understand). Only, Max is about to graduate, and he’s going to hit the road – with or without JL.

JL can’t bear being left behind again. But what if devoting herself to Max not only means betraying her parents, but permanently losing the love of her best friend? What becomes of loyalty, when no one is loyal to you?

Gae Polisner’s Jack Kerouac is Dead to Me is a story about the fragility of female friendship, of falling in love and wondering if you are ready for more, and of the glimmers of hope we find by taking stock in ourselves.

Grade: B+

Review:

This novel was a well-written contemporary YA that is full of heart and emotions by the bucket loads. The entire book is written in epistolary mode, as JL writing a letter to her childhood friend Aubrey that she’s no longer close to anymore (and that’s killing her inside).

JL is dealing with a lot of issues for just being a teen: her dad has left for an undetermined amount of time for California, which means that she has to deal with her mother’s depression/dissociative disorder on her own. Although she does have her grandmother check in on her and her mom (but her grandmother prefers to remain in denial about her mother’s true condition rather than face the bleak truth). JL spends her days taking care of her mother, raising butterflies, and hanging out with her 19-years old boyfriend.

This book doesn’t hold back any punches. It’s easy for the reader to become easily invested in JL’s struggles and wanting to root for this girl. This novel is raw and gritty and maybe a bit too realistic if you’re looking for any escapism, but it’s emotionally gripping from the very beginning till the very end. You won’t regret delving into this book if you’re looking for something with more heart and less fluff with a dash of darkness.

*Thank you so much to NetGalley and Wednesday Books for the digital copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!

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Poetry: Bad Habit

I’m like a smoker

In need of a cigarette

I need you, even if

I know you’re detrimental

To my health

But the rush you give me

Is worth more

Than saving myself.

smoke

Did you enjoy this poem? You can find this poem and many others in Bleed Like Me: Poems for the Broken

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Book Review & Author Interview: The Sun Under A Night Sky by Vontress Renae

SUN1

Exclusive collab with: VoyageLA(large inverted)

You are the sun and the center of your universe.

Order on Amazon & Paperback

Plot Summary:

In this collection of untitled thoughts, poetry, and affirmations; Vontress plants her powerful feminine energy and wisdom like a seed. Showing growth through struggle, and sharing stories of blooming into a flower. She shines her light like the sun into the darkest parts of her soul.

Grade: A-

Review:

The poems in this collection are often dark, but even in the darkest moments, there is a tiny light that glimmers with hope. And this is what makes this collection stand out from other poems that tackle similar topics like love and heartbreak. The message Renae seems to want to give with these poems is that happiness isn’t something you should search in someone else, or depend on someone else for your own happiness, but rather that happiness lies inside us all if we have self-love and that’s an essential and potent message to give. I recommend this book if you’re into poetry that explores life’s dark moments but that has an uplifting message in the end.

vontress

Short Q & A with the Author:

What has inspired your writing?

The inspiration for my writing comes from day to day life. I wonder what people think and put it on paper, my own stories and sometimes the stories of those around me.

When did you first start writing?

I have always written things for as long as I remember, but it was not until recently that I felt comfortable enough to share it with others.

What tips would you give a novice writer?

My advice would be to remove all distractions. There are times that I sign out of social media and take a bit of a hiatus in order to gather my thoughts and get them down clearly.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve been given?

The best advice I was given would be to do what makes me happy. I feel that my writing can take me all the places I want to go in this world I just have to trust myself and believe in what I’m saying on my pages.

What are you currently reading or looking forward to reading?

I am currently reading ” The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F” by Mark Manson. It has definitely been a page-turner and I plan to take a view of the tips that I have learned while reading.

RENAE ON THE WEB:
Website: https://vontressrortega.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/writtenbyvontress
Twitter: https://twitter.com/byvontress
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/writtenbyvontress/

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