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Tales from A "Shit-Sucking Spawn of Satan" (An excerpt from my Book: "Of Gold, Circumstance and Mud")

Posted by TashaAllen on March 1, 2009 at 2:38 PM Comments comments (3)

A lot of people have no idea what it is like to be unwittingly raised within the confines of a religious cult. There are a lot of people who do know what it is like. It is especially difficult to be raised in a bind and fetter situation if you have been blessed with a strong will, and a curious mind of your own. Unfortunately, I was indoctrinated into the Mormon Church, according to them, befor...

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There Are No Flowers, Just Bums

Posted by TashaAllen on February 27, 2009 at 2:13 PM Comments comments (5)

There are no flowers,

there are no trees

in this concrete slab


Just bums that sleepwalk

like strangers walking

strange streets,

lonely and floating.

The only difference between them

and me


that I have four walls around


to keep me from walking

too far.

TCA 2006

In This Dream, Love Dies in Twos.

Posted by TashaAllen on February 27, 2009 at 1:39 PM Comments comments (2)

[to the man who haunted last night's dream]

In that impregnable, surrealistic dizziness

I pieced together your

torn letter

under the light;

And read all misspelled words

as if there were no mistakes.

I knew your name,

and sat with you among volumes of books.

I reached you

through interwoven sonnets of tragic

Lovers-- whose death, like ours,

occurred directly upon Awakening.

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The Exiled Sergeant in the Looking Glass.

Posted by TashaAllen on February 27, 2009 at 1:29 PM Comments comments (2)
It was a blustery, clear night under the full, blood red vampire moon...

hoards of slick, teenage vampires and dignified long-haired men pass by my crouching, earthbound form. I glance up from underneath the bay window of a locally-owned arcade, basking in the illumination which poured past me onto the street. I take a puff from my extra-long, hand rolled doobie, and wait...

Just waiting. I knew something was on its w...
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The Issues. The Issues. The Issues of Blood.

Posted by TashaAllen on February 27, 2009 at 1:25 PM Comments comments (2)

Yes. I have a diminished capacity for making and keeping human connections...

Forming Bonds.

does also.

Both traumatized. beaten. soul-raped...

by the very people that we were supposed to trust--the people that were raising us. and in my case numerous others.

We'd recognized each other, instantly...

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Lie Down Anywhere, A Poem About Things.

Posted by TashaAllen on February 27, 2009 at 1:21 PM Comments comments (2)
Lie Down Anywhere, A Poem About Things

Lie down anywhere
on this wet rock
at night
and stare into
the furious tantrum of stars
and feel
how this planet tries
to fling you
how it tries to recede
from the touch of your body
like a lover
who's grown sick of you.
Try to say where this place is
(as if a chart meant anything,
as if location meant ...
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As You Breathe Out

Posted by TashaAllen on February 27, 2009 at 12:15 PM Comments comments (3)
Exhaling what you consider as excess:
recruited, gathered and drained,
That which you've never accounted for;
nor considered to be pained

Are reoccurring sunsets;
Minutiae of the soul's inlets:
Images which you draw obsessively
on canvas,

Images which dance; witnesses to your silence.

Nothing can be considered after this.
Only the massive paint-by-numbers backdrop,
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Letter to the Dean

Posted by TashaAllen on February 27, 2009 at 12:12 PM Comments comments (3)

Please excuse the recalcitrance,
as you sip your good coffee or English tea--
I've retreated, drowned, in that Narcissus pool
Unable to comment, until my next petition.

Beyond the slight-of-hand tricks, roasted almond stands,and heavy traffic--
is the blurred vision of a figure; fiercely unmoved by

the perfunc...
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