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About Literature / Student Emily May23/Female/United Kingdom Recent Activity
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I looked back; the city stretched and
pulled me under. I’ve lost my mind
in its jewellery stores and rat-holes,
eyes rolled seasick across its floors.

Angels and murderers ride the trains
mutely and cough when they cover
their mouths, flash their knives,
bare their teeth.

I’ll still walk a broken tunnel
long after I am gone

when the place has been picked clean
and the sun has passed out in her party
dress, the fairs all rolled away and
electric lights dying –

when I’ve made it to the edges
    crying and muddy on the banks of the river
    where God and the water meet

she’ll still be spread there, the sleeping
body of Ra, drunk cheeks for the
earth to warm its hands upon,

between the cold flowers
      of the morning after.
Cold Flowers
still working in progress


emilygolightly's Profile Picture
Emily May
Artist | Student | Literature
United Kingdom
“Woman’s role in creation should be parallel to her role in life. I don’t mean the good earth. I mean the bad earth too, the demon, the instincts, the storms of nature. Tragedies, conflicts, mysteries are personal. Man fabricated a detachment which became fatal. Woman must not fabricate. She must descend into the real womb and expose its secrets and its labyrinths. She must describe it as the city of Fez, with its Arabian Nights gentleness, tranquility and mystery. She must describe the voracious moods, the desires, the worlds contained in each cell of it. For the womb has dreams. It is not as simple as the good earth. I believe at times that man created art out of fear of exploring woman. I believe woman stuttered about herself out of fear of what she had to say. She covered herself with taboos and veils. Man invented a woman to suit his needs. He disposed of her by identifying her with nature and then paraded his contemptuous domination of nature. But woman is not nature only. She is the mermaid with her fish-tail dipped in the unconscious.”

-Anaïs Nin

She who makes a beast of herself gets rid of the pain of being a woman.
"Every day I say I cannot love him more, and every day I find more love in me for him.

Heinrich, another beautiful day with you is finished, always too early. And I am not empty of love yet. I loved you as you sat yesterday with the light on your gray-blond hair, the warm blood showing through your Nordic skin. Your mouth open, so sensual. Your shirt open. In your stocky hands you held your father's letter. I think of your childhood in the streets, your serious adolescence - but always sensual - many books. You know how tailors sit like Arabs over their work. You learned to cut out a pair of pants when you were five years old. You wrote your first book during a two weeks' vacation. You played jazz on the piano for the grownups to dance to. You were sometimes sent to your father, who was drinking in a bar. You could slip under the swinging doors, you were so small. You tugged at his coat. You drank beer.

You abhor kissing a woman's hand. You laugh at it. You look so fine in all your cast-off suits, shabby clothes. I know your body now. I know what devilries you are capable of. You are something to me that I never read in your writings or heard about from June or your friends. Everybody thinks of the noise and the power of you. There are words in other tongues I must use when I talk about you. In my own, I think of: ardiente, salvaje, hombre.

I want to be there wherever you are. Lying next to you even if you are asleep. Henry, kiss my eyelashes, put your fingers on my eyelids. Bite my ear. Push back my hair. I have learned to unbutton you so swiftly. All, in my mouth, sucking. Your fingers. The hotness. The frenzy. Our cries of satisfaction. One for each impact of your body against mine. Each blow a sting of joy. Driving in a spiral. The core touched. The womb sucks, back and forth, open, closed. Lips flicking, snake tongues flicking. Ah, the rupture - a blood cell burst with joy. Dissolution."

- Anais Nin, Henry and June.

I don't understand how anyone can place their words so finely and articulately as Anais. She was a queen. I've read this book countless times and it makes me drunk. The Bible of Woman.
  • Mood: Adoration
  • Listening to: scout nibblett
  • Reading: henry and june

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WilliamDallwitz Featured By Owner Dec 24, 2014  Student General Artist
Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, trembling with cold and hunger - a very picture of sorrow. The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. "Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.
BreeBree135 Featured By Owner May 9, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday!! :hug: :cake:
tonepainter Featured By Owner May 9, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy Birthday! :D
TotallyUncreativeMe Featured By Owner May 9, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Very happy birthday! :)
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner May 9, 2014   General Artist
happy birthday, hon! :heart:
WilliamDallwitz Featured By Owner May 9, 2014  Student General Artist
A most happy birthday I wish, my friend! :)
vespera Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Baby, Will You Help Me

zip this dress; will you not
get drunk tonight and will you
please just hold my hand?
Tomorrow I'm flying home, so

instead of going out with you I'll
be hiding meat in my napkin at
a welcome-back party. I'm
excited, I promise, so happy
to be here. But it seems I'm

- Nina Bahadur
vespera Featured By Owner Feb 26, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Baby, Will You Help Me

zip this dress; will you not
get drunk tonight and will you
please just hold my hand?
Tomorrow I'm flying home, so

instead of going out with you I'll
be hiding meat in my napkin at
a welcome-back party. I'm
excited, I promise, so happy
to be here. But it seems I'm

not grown-up yet, it seems
that I drink keg beer
and use vulgar American
words. I'm too fresh,
and the way I say just what
I mean is all of a sudden
offensive in my
rhotic pronunciation, my
up-and-down intonation.

And, you're right, I've known them
all for years. I grew up in their
houses, I played in their gardens,
I could take it or leave it.
I wouldn't mind if they stared, but -

I'll be far from you. Your voice
will sound wrong on the phone, and
I won't see that first morning look -

today, your eyes opened like you'd been
falling face-first.
emilygolightly Featured By Owner Mar 19, 2014  Student Writer
i'm so sorry i forgot to reply this, i have been so scatterbrained and dizzy with third year studies. this is beautiful, thank you for sharing this with me.

(this is also v. easy to relate to as someone in love with an american guy. in three days i'm gonna be on your turf! :heart:)
vespera Featured By Owner Mar 19, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
I thought you might like that, she's a good debut poet.

(ooooh! exciting! where & how long do you get to stay?)
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