Kamikaze White Noise
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About this ebook
About the Book
Kamikaze White Noise is a collection of three books by Nicole I. Nesca, The Sexual Repression Collection, Kink and Canned. Though not a formal trilogy, the books were written as companion pieces and follow the themes of sexual freedom, emotional frankness and street-carnival logic, all written with Nicole Nesca’s usual free-flowing sardonic wit. Kamikaze White Noise is prose and poetry that assaults the senses, liberates the mind and celebrates life on the edge like a perfect quarter-mile drag race.
About the Author
Nicole Nesca was born in Youngstown, Ohio in 1973. She developed a love of music, painting and writing early on and continued that love throughout her adult life. While living in Canada, she completed three works of poetry and prose collected in the anthology piece, KAMIKAZE WHITE NOISE, and another two books of poetry and prose. She has been published in several E-Zines and has been a part of two anthologies.
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Kamikaze White Noise - Nicole I-Nesca
KAMIKAZE
WHITE
NOISE
NICOLE I-NESCA
Ukiyoto Publishing
[Scan the QR Code and let the Author see your View]
All global publishing rights are held by
Ukiyoto Publishing
Published in 2011
Content Copyright © Nicole I-Nesca
Reserved rights by Screamin’ Skull Press
www.screaminskullpress.com
Original Cover Art by Nicole I-Nesca
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher
The moral right of the author has been asserted
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.
collection
the
sexual
repression
collection
©2008
labeled
make me high with the notion of One boxed in reality pinned down by wet dreams, drunken fantasies and malfunct thought schemes lay claim shackle me to your illusion, my delusion worship at the temple, walk through the garden and call it Eden eat from the fruit disguised as truth; the cruelty is in the innocence people and worlds collide blinded by the hypocrisy of the heart left with four other senses and still disabled
the violence is in the silence, the venom of compliance lay blame, point fingers and give names –
label me Magdalene
sacrilege
drunk on wine from your lips of truth
stole the sacrament from the church of you pawned it in the house of thieves threw the change at your feet--atoned
freedom has never tasted so good
table for two
saints disguised as sinners seeking false absolution carousing on ambrosia from a paper cup and feasting on manna seasoned in allspice; leaving a gratuity for what was meant as a gift you said it was in the afters; liar
love, thy name is hypocrisy
we crossed the line when it was blurred hanging on to watch where you'll go from where you've been giving anything and everything if asked in your hands my heart is clasped and ready keep throwing objects to try and make unsteady greasing, straddling the line and dodging reality roadblocks to keep ourselves in our respective place effective introspective perspective, my pace limbo, holding patterns of hope where wings don't exist only the lies, fantasies and myths of the heart mystifying and charming have become your art sorting through the ruins of the past skeletal remains, proof of what love did endure waiting for some savior to rescue raise the dead with a word or two, of promise that will never come and hold to fruition staggering through the daylight, clinging to the ghost of profundity continue conceiving, receiving and believing the abstract as unstable as the atmosphere, playing the fool i look at myself and laugh
put your finger to my lips to stop the truth from spilling out is it fear or desire that holds me, so strongly, to you?
i never understood
the original sin that was gifted was the traveling companion, tour guide to life living on knees cracked and swollen praying for reprieve from the latest lesson crawling across the pristine floors in amazement of the hallowed halls hypnotised by beautifully sad romanticised images waiting for the halo to surface beloved prize baptised in fear guilt and shame suffering into saint-hood making gains becoming the blame for indiscretions transgressions unheard confessions love was never part of the equation nothing more is deserved desired or required receiving the gifts of my father created to never fly weighted with the lies unanswered prayers and cries religious quest that understanding gives life to agonise is divine to feel peace is to die
ethereal
...gaze slips away
recognise my soul
as something
you already know
sense my spirit
intertwined
with yours
i am near
still haunting
after i've gone
Spectre created
just for you
remember
rhythm
of my heart
imagine
head upon my chest
feel me pulse
through your veins
with each breath
old familiar song
learn my face
study it
engrave
to your minds eye
allow the memories
to forever make aware
there will eternally
exist a space
reserved for you
tattooed
'your name' here
for this is not
our time or place
created by destiny
in dreams
one
her cruel hand
painted
on tomorrows canvas
fates
decided long before
we ever knew
know now
at your very core
next life...
you
will be the first i search for
threads
look into my eyes beautiful veneration meditation release aching spirits profound seeking tactile learning truth synergistic marching peaceful demonstration of communication thoughts arch back ancient wisdoms slide--dolita--lotus tremble feeding sacred vedic fix kama higher planes rising--sutra--ananda kissed
whispers consciousness
sepia
through the chatoyancy haze
toned dreams
i scream
citrine tears glisten
against jaundiced skin
as tiger eyed glare
attempts
to wring the reality
from my mind
submit
old-fashioned portrait
my life
colour
bright bleed
poppy stands
posed, still in defence
ruby red pouting
my lip
let me in
let me in... hours where the polite sleep comforted in their safe dreams unnatural beliefs medically induced peace and false securities all is well and good, harm only comes to those who look for it...zombies circus-freaks and druggies walking the tight-rope of sanity teetering on the edge of frailty jealous of the ability to stop the possibility of tangential thought ignorance is bliss hands in the pants arm-chair confessional bar tender has-been clichéd bullshit logic with-out tight dogma bound only to the explainable nothing else exist to the chosen few armoured with their higher stream of consciousness crosses and water just another fractured mind to deal with; wrapped in the arms of the