a haiku

a light wind turns harsh
weathered by an endless storm
all is well again

Shakespearean sonnet

Fireworks



If mirrors could cry you would drown.

I hold onto that precarious hand

that isn’t mine anymore, since the last time you got around.

And this is the last time you’ll hear from me, Maryland.



Call me whatever you care to say, call me a fag, call me gay.

If I were less of a man I’d call you a cunt or a whore or

whatever you want my dear, do you remember your negligee?

And how it was too small but you wore it regardless. You fucked me like a chore.



This time I’m stealing from you.

I’m taking your worthless gold since you don’t have a heart anymore.

And I’ll kiss your chapped lips and whisper adieu.

I’ll wipe my eyes clear and walk away, gently closing the door.



My heart is all ashes.

And there’s a lighter in my pocket full of fluid and your curled eye lashes.

Flamingo

Flamingo
1/12/10

For Love
I’ll run to you
scrape the pavement from my teeth
drink ink until I die
from far too much life.
A helix in a vase,
a monkey who found God under his fingernails,
took a pen
and drew out all of the beautiful complexities
uprisings from the oceans;
wings and vocal chords,
map makers making map makers
with death slouching sadly against the wall.

Poem

Our short days come one by one
but if you die with me
I'll hold your hand.

a verse

A testament to the weakness of words.

Poem

Tents and Tables

Scarred but not scared,
the mark of a true masochist.
Burnt away the sacred flesh,
blessed in black and white.
Dressed in folded gauze
for the rubber neck world to see;
the lonely ones, locked away.
The matching ones,
oh fucked up day.
Jesus Christ in stone so high
I clean the sewage lined streets with you.
You fucking character
you character in a paper book.
I'll write myself just like you.

Done

I Ryan St. George on this fifth day of January 2010 declare that I will remain free of illicit substances and alcohol. To be blunt, the shit makes me crazy and fucks with my brain in a way that normal people would never experience. I feel like I need the help of the district in order to do this since most of my indulgences have been in the company of the occupants. I needs your help, my friends. I do think that I'm strong enough to do this alone. I have done it before for literally years on end. But you all know how impulsive I am and how I am willing to throw things away at the strike of a match. Please don't let me even have a beer, don't offer me anything except the occasional cigarette. And when we go out I have no problem being the all time driver. I never really enjoyed the effects of alcohol with my mixture that much anyways. It just fucks up my thinking and motor skills. I just like the self destructive aspect of drinking, the idea of it mostly and the feeling of having a beer in my hand.


So that's it. I don't regret anything. I'm glad I did everything but I am well now and if I were to continue down this road I would most certainly be unwell in the very near future.


And do you really want to visit me in a hospital?

And do you really want to see my brain on Zyprexa or some other Dopamine blocker that will essentially kill me and all of my creative and expressive talents and powers?

So help me out guys and I'll do my best to stay true.

with love,

-Ryan 1/1/10 11:13am

The Eighty Ninth District

This will always be home and it will never be advertised. The district is its own separate entity, shut off from a world that would never understand it and only try to fix it. The district is in need of repair, but the only ones who can repair it are its occupants, its lyfers. Certain things have to kept out if progress is to be made. Certain people must be shut out if anything is to be done at all. This is our home, as I said, and even when we leave it will be with us forever- we could never part ways. But let's make lyfe something beautiful because we can do that, I have proven it time and time again in this week alone, the first fucking week of a new year. Get to know people's souls, find God wherever you can, and don't be afraid to fuck convention.

Don't listen to other people. They're wrong to say you're wrong. Show your love because you have it and it is so beautiful when it just pours out in the middle of nowhere at no time at all. We can make this lyfe something worth hanging onto. We can write it ourselves, we are artists, we can create lyfe, our own, instead of living life, something we used to strive for. It isn't for us at all, it never was. But we do belong here because God put us here. Not for a fucking reason at all. God just put us here and who are they to say we need to leave?

You're never alone when you have a home and our home is the Eighty Ninth District. So let's plant some fucking flowers, write some fucking poems, strengthen its foundation. And live for ourselves, knowing that what we are doing is right because it is right for us. We may have not made it in life, but lyfe can be something else than what it has been known for previously.

We can wallow in it or we can take advantage of the opportunity and build something great together. And we can't ever fail because there are no standards.

We can't ever fail despite what happens to us.

This is the dawn of a new era

all is well