Salutations oh beautiful ones. Here is a story written in verse that comes in HSC-friendly bitesized installments. It is all somehow related to a certain alcoholic drink that was drunk by many bohemians in bohemian type times. It is green and it's name is Absinthe, also known as la Fée Verte, the Green Fairy. So, kind of bohemian, kind of strange, kind of escapist. Inspired by Jinx by Margaret Wild, and ee cummings, and some other people.

Everyone's going to be in it eventually.

It's got alcohol use, I'm guessing, and possible sexual allusions and violence, I don't know, so cover your eyes children.

Here is the initial thing.

Kit Vivivan Scara: The Teetotaller

It burns bitter and hot in her mouth,
like seawater over a volcano, lava tainted,
and her skin numb-freezes like the south
frost she abandoned. Our strumpet painted
sits on the stair
torn worn leather laced legs
angular and debonair,
the elixir's body sculled, she scrys the dregs.
By her foot,
[the foot which is perched,
out of habit,
on its toe, and licked by soot]
it is, a searched-
for escape, green absinthe divine, Alice's rabbit,

though she'll never have it

So she daydreams the dream she'll never betray
to bitter reality's bloom
and decay
while draped on the dust of a dead smoker's fume
And think of the burn
her throat will
never learn
so the illusion will keep her afloat. Pill
and needle,
drink and lover
lose not her amorous longing's first light
[a starving man's taste-memories satiate more than the feed will]
And she sits while the sky takes the hue of a wounded plover
And is stolen away by the night.

Ooohh! *is very intrigued*

Its nice to see that this is in poem, instead of prose. A bit refreshing. And the style, rhyme, the imagery! I love it! It gives us just a bit of insight to this girl and her life. If I was cool enough, I'd put this into poem, but sadly, tis false. -_- I'll just leave that wonderful creativity to you. :)

Wonderful. And, I love the name. Le Fe'e Verte... kinda draws you in, ya know?

Post more of this soon, Han!

:heartbeat:
Samma

Post. more. now.

:heartbeat: Pat

Thanks Sammi oh fair one who blesses my story with her readingness. I am proud to have intriqued you with my insanity. May I have your permission to weave a character inspired by you into this mess?


Spudkin, your wish is my command, oh angel one.

This story's kind of a little sad at the moment, yes, but it gets happier. Just at the beginning everyone's kind of displaced

******************************************

Kit: Explanations: This Guy I Married

My name is Kit, well,
it isn't, but whose counting. I have a lot
of names, I keep a list by the door so I can tell
who I'm supposed to answer as. I'm not
a spy, I just don't like, well, who ever it was who had
that name I left behind, whatever that was. The changes,
the characters, they help. Mad
as that sounds, well, okay, it is madness, but the madness ranges
from character to character.
But my point is, I some how accidentally got on the invite
list of this party, I don't know anyone, probably all-
this guy, I kind of married him,once-but his friends. By the way, I'm an actor
a singer, an artist, a writer, a muso, a jeweller, like I said, I'm a lot of people. But tonight-
-oh, and I'm really really tall-

But tonight here I am in this room full of people I don't know,
I didn't want to come, but I need to sell myself a bit,
-the guy I married, he took my musical company which was quite a blow
because I took forever to come up with a name for it-

"You don't like parties do you."
He's laughing in his eyes, this random man,
"I don't drink." I say,-not mentioning the other thing- "Do you want to-?"
"Escape? That's the plan."
He takes the small of my back,
as is the fashion, and leads me, gliding out,
and the back of my mind should be saying, if you come under attack,
he tries something, you shout.
He scrutinises me, "You're not a prostitute are you? I mean, not that you'd seem anything-"
I arch my eyebrows and give him a sideways glance
"I just, I- Can I rephrase the question? What do you do?"
I pick one, "I sort of sing."
"Nice. Writer. Sort of, also." He hooks his thumbs into the belt loops on his pants
We climb to some roof or other and let the view

just kind of blur. A harmonic still.

I can think again, speak again, out here.

"It makes me ache..."
He says, breaks the distance, the silence. I look up, "You okay?"
"Yeah. Yes. Of course. I just... it makes me ache this place." He offers a hand I take
without thinking. I feel it in his hand, "I know," I say.

He takes me, against the chill.

And his fingers steal back my precautionary fear.

Katherine Aliah: The bartender

Katie'd left the window open, and the rain consumed
the old-friends-come-new-strangers on the window sill
now painted sepia from the rain and blown dirt from the window box nasturtium that never bloomed
and never will.
She serenades them and the city shrouded moon.
This time, three to four, is the time she stole back
from bills, from jobs, from lepers and saints. Soon
the stolen liberty would slip through the divaricated crack
of her palm,
yet she sits,
yet she sings
with the calm
of her wits,
and weathers time's stings.

Punch in, punch out. Punch up, depending on which shift.

She stares at the lines of the marinated counter
her little finger tracing a path for one drop of spilt absinthe, and wraps
the music tight about her.
The clown-red-nosed man slaps
a twenty before her and mutters an order in belligerent slurs
And her ear knows the language and her free hand appeases
and mixes and stirs
the elixirs of sleazes.
Her thoughts meander through lyrical scores
tripping on strings,
purring impassioned melisma.
She floats above bars, flats, garish lit stores,
and bursts the air with her melodic wings
with daring charisma.

Another three to four, she's asleep on the shoulder
of her acoustic, the sound of her breathing alive in the use-polished torso. Soft
is the moon, and the photographs grin through the chagrin. Colder
the days, and light is the tides of the winds far aloft.

I loved messes. And, I'd be honored, your graciousness Han, dear. What would you need from me, if anything?

As for the update... this was my favorite part I think...:

I know poetry knows no bounds, but I'd never thought someone could make filling an order behind a bar so.. lyrical. :hug: And her getting lost in the music. :heartbeat:

Samma

I would need, hmm, let me think now, a profession probably, your attitude to drinking, to guys, girls, to food and anything you want in particular, if that is okay with you.

Well tis inspired by our Miss Chloe, and she is a rather lyrical subject, she takes the music with her.

****************************

Katie: Enough

People would ask me,
What do you want to do?
What do you want to be?
What do you...
These questions about this
person whose shoes would always eclipse my feet,
anticipating my messianic metamorphosis
to butterfly and Cinderella. But soft, sweet,
The word returns
Through the mire
Through the armour of lacking, lachrymose,
Fire on my tongue burns
poignant passion and too long quelled desire.
Enough. The birth and close.

I want to do enough, to be enough, to feel enough
I want to be satisfied
No belief in regret
Nobody's expectation or disappointment
I want to hunger
I want to fight
I want to have no home
but the latent touch of night
I want to be independent and alone
I want someone to make sure
there's no monsters by my window
No one to own or own me
And I want too contradictory,
Elusive enough eternally.
***************************************************

So many relatable ambitions. To be free, and not worry about potential ties. To not be owned, and not worry about taking care of others... ah, bliss.

Okay, so -

Profession: 1) English teacher, 2) student majoring in languages

Drinking: Personally, I don't drink. Probably because my friends don't and I'm home with my family all the time. But then again, I'm sixteen. If I were older, it'd still be kinda iffy, because I'd hate waking up and knowing (or not knowing) I did something I wouldn't have otherwise - the control thing. Maybe she drinks a little, but is typically the designated sober.

Guys: I love them as friends, and I am straight. Like, I'd rather be friends with guys than girls (hate high maintenance girls!), but am also painfully afraid of more heartbreak. So whenever I feel the beginnings of a crush, I try to repress it basically by putting myself down. Usually, it works, but sometimes it doesn't and that's even scarier, because I'm really putting myself out there. Maybe the worst part is that I get passionate easily and almost always fall for guys I'm close to. Pooh.

Girls: I prefer guyfriends to girls, but I admit a couple close girlfriends is necessary. I'm slightly bi-curious, and so wouldn't say no to pecks in Spin-the-Bottle. I need girlfriends like me, that are more down-to-earth. I can handle those girls who are totally boy-crazy all the time only in small doses. It just seems excessive and unnecessary to me. I guess the reason I repress feelings for guys is that sometimes you know its not going to happen and its pointless.

Food: :bow: <---pretty much sums it up. I am a carnivore and will eat pretty much anything. (BTW - both alligator and crocodile :yum: ) I love BBQ and ham and pepperoni, but love eating lunch meat out of packages. Home-cooked meals are amazing. However, I have this thing where I eat all of one thing on a plate at a time. For example, if there're green beans, potatoes and steak, i'll eat all the potatoes then all the green beans THEN the steak, and by then I'll probably be almost full anyway. Also - I eat little at a time, but nibble all day. I love carby food like pretzels - they're feel good food.

Umm... other than that... I have red hair and hazel eyes that turn from green to blue, rather than brown. Am a Christian. Love British classics. Love rain and snow and most precipitation. Don't tan, so I don't really like weather that's constantly hot. Love Scotland and the history and heritage of it... that's all I can think of right now.

:heartbeat:
Samma

I need more of this, please, oh please. I won't tell you you write wonderfully or which parts I adore because DUH, you already know what I think of your writing and yes, hi, I love you. :*