Calista 4 p®esidenT profile picture

Calista 4 p®esidenT

I am here for Friends

About Me



WUT YOU KNOW ABOUT ME ♥

i am not a lesbian
i am not retarded

My Interests



I'd like to meet:



THE WOODS ARE LOVELY, DARK AND DEEP
and i've got promises to keep
and miles to go before i sleep
DID YOU HEAR THAT BUTTERFLY?
miles to go before you sleep.

Music:



Movies:


Annabelle Lee
by Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabelle Lee;
And this Maiden lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabelle Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabelle Lee;
so that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me
To shut her up in sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that is the reason
(as all men know, in this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabelle Lee.
But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in Heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee;
And so, all the night tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
The Second Coming
by William Butler Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer,
Things fall apart; The centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the second coming is at hand.
The second coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and head of a man;
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now i know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?
We are Seven
by William Wordsworth
--A Simple Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage Girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
--Her beauty made me glad.
"Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said
And wondering looked at me.
"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
"Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage,I
Dwell near them with my mother."
"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven!--I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be."
Then did the little Maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."
"You run above, my little Maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five."
"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little Maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side.
"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.
"And often after sun-set, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.
"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.
"So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.
"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."
"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little Maid's reply,
"O Master! we are seven."
"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven!"

I Carry Your Heart With Me
by EE Cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Books:

Disappointed Souls
by calista hugo
Disappointed souls rise from the sea,
Disappointed souls, what could it be?
Gone are the masks they once had to wear
And here to stay is their mournful tale of despair.
Buddha meditates beneath the weeping willow
While Jesus combs his hair.
Disappointed souls, nowhere to go,
Disappointed souls, nothing to show.
No need to ask directions,
You're not going anywhere.
Here is your almighty heir:
Buddha meditates beneath the weeping willow while Jesus combs his hair.
So be gone all ye self righteous
There is nothing left to say.
Be gone all ye faithful hypocrites
For you there is no way.
Seek and you shall find,
Maybe someone will care.
Buddha meditates beneath the weeping willow while Jesus combs his hair.
My Bouncy Ball
by calista hugo
I am ecstatic.
Birds are chirping in my head,
Rainbows are forming in my eyes,
Humming birds are gathering the nectar from the flowers which are blooming in my stomach
And the nectar is
ecstatic.
Melodramatic.
Nobody loves me.
No one sees my good deeds.
I am depressed,
Full of loneliness.
They only see me when I am on my knees
From falling
Into this puddle called
Melodramatic.
Shameful.
Use this wool to darken my eyes
Or your eyes.
Use this blanket of wool to cover what has been hiding for so many years.
Use it to cover this dark spot of
Shameful.
Joyful.
Clouds are my socks.
Butterflies are my sleeves.
Almost like having wings.
The world is my ball
For bouncing.
My ball for bouncing all of this
Joyful.
Prideful.
I am high on the mountain top.
Don't try to climb up.
My mind is righteous.
Even my fingers wear crowns.
I am walking the tight rope.
No one can knock me down.
I am walking the tight rope of
Prideful.
Peaceful.
The ocean is calm.
no waves,
The trees gently sway in the soft cool breeze.
Silence.
Nobody sees
This overwhelming
Peaceful.
Angry.
Fiery eyes,
Burning through.
Burn,
Burn like the sun.
The rams are mine for bashing.
Their heads are mine for bashing.
Bashing of my
Angry.
Uneasy.
My mind is in the dark.
My mind is full of dark.
Shuttering at the sounds,
Creaking,
Screeching,
Creepy.
Suffering at the sounds.
Sounds of
Uneasy.
Jealousy.
Cleanliness of the color,
Crispness of the presence,
Confidence in the air
Lack of care.
The ocean is yours for swimming,
As i drown in my pool.
My pool of
Jealousy.
I am ecstatic, melodramatic,
I am Shameful, Joyful.
I am Prideful, Peaceful.
I am angry, uneasy, full of jealousy.
The world is my ball for bouncing.
The cost of my desire
by calista hugo
I want to stab you.
And then after I stab you I want to grab you by the neck and drown you in your own blood.
I want you to be overtaken by this hole in my heart that you created.
I want to shake you until your ribs brake,
At least three.
I want to hold on to your head and squeeze until the only thing that is left of your skull is dust that floats in the wind when I clap my bare hands.
I want to give you an out-of-body experience so you can actually see what it is like to die at the hands of another person.
I want to kill you, bring you back to life, and kill you again.
I want you to suffer.
I want you to hate yourself until your life means nothing more to you than the grass you sit on.
I want to give you a miracle and take it away.
I want to rip your eyes from your sockets, hoping it will enhance your hearing, so that maybe you can actually hear the sound of the suffering and depression you have caused.
I want to rejoice in the mere thought of your pain.
I want you to die,
But only on the inside,
So that maybe you can actually rot from the inside out.
I want your thoughts to kill you.
I want you to lay awake at night and wonder
How did this happen to me?
Why did this happen to me?
I want you to wonder the way I wonder.
I want you to suffer the way I suffer.
I want you to hurt the way I hurt.
I want you to live the way I've lived.
I want to kill you the way you killed.
Untitled
by calista hugo
I could be a poet If I had someone else's mind,
But being at a loss of words seems so much more divine.
I could probably be a singer if I had someone else's voice
But being raspy is what I'd choose if I could have my choice.
I could be a winner if I had someone else's talent,
But failure has always seemed more appealing,
So much more valiant.
I could woo you with my creativity and my bucketfull of charm,
But being dull and boring seems to cause much less harm.
And as i leave I could do a dance if I had someone else's shoes,
But winning's always seemed much greater once you've had to lose.
Trippin'
by calista hugo
Words cannot describe how I feel.
My state of being is far too deep for this poem to unveil.
If I'm trippin, I don't want to fall,
And what I'm saying is,
Well,
Your arms are long.
I hope this is real.
I don't like to pretend.
I can feel my mind trying to bend.
And somehow it seems
That when you are gone
My bed is too big and my hands are too small.
Your arms are long.
Please catch me before I fall.
Mixed Feelings
by calista hugo
Mixed Feelings
About you,
Intuition Failing,
What should I do?
To hate or to love?
There is a fine line.
Do I cross it and let my true emotions shine?
Or do I stay here,
Cowering in the shadow,
And never let my feelings show?
I want to love you,
But I have no reason to.
I should hate you,
But I don't want to.
Undecided
Indecisive
I've never felt this way.
And I have a feeling these feelings will always stay,
and never go away.
How can one person change my life in a single day?
This is insane.
I can't stop thinking of you.
You're causing me so much pain.
And there's not much I can do
Until I sort this out.
I will have to settle for mixed feelings.
Best Friends
by calista hugo
Here I am again
This is me
Stuck between
Shoved beneath
You.
There you go again
Belittling me
Degrading me
Betraying me
But that's just how you
Are.
Me and you again
Best friends til the end
So very close, but oh so far
Apart.
Here we are again
You destroy me again
I forgive you again
You befriend me once
Again
Here I am again
Suffering
Struggling
Questioning
This whole thing.
Here I am again
Stuck between
Shoved beneath
You.

Heroes:

duh my mom.
;)

My Blog

yeaya

ok so i want to take this time to thank whoever....for music...and sound in general. i have come to the realization that if i were deaf...i would kill myself. i saw this movie the other day that had t...
Posted by Calista 4 p®esidenT on Thu, 24 Apr 2008 03:55:00 PST

this was one of my very first poems...so its kinda rough...

I could be a poet if I had someone else's mind,But being at a loss of words seems so much more devine.I could probably be a singer if I had someone else's voice,But being rhaspy is what I'd choose if ...
Posted by Calista 4 p®esidenT on Sun, 09 Sep 2007 06:06:00 PST

my latest poem...you know who you are

The cost of my desire by calista hugo I want to stab you. Then after I stab you I want to grab you by the neck and drown you in your own blood. I want you to be overtaken by this hole in my heart tha...
Posted by Calista 4 p®esidenT on Mon, 30 Jul 2007 08:25:00 PST

so effin sick...and dats da truf

I am so sick. And  tired.I mean this figuratively,of course.-I am sick of the following things:being hated on, not being able to be my self.-Not being allowed to growlacking FREEDOM, living in th...
Posted by Calista 4 p®esidenT on Tue, 22 May 2007 01:09:00 PST

my bouncy ball

i am ecstatic. birds are chirping in my head rainbows are forming in my eyes humming birds are gathering the nectar from the flowers which are growing in my stomach and the nectar is ecstatic. melod...
Posted by Calista 4 p®esidenT on Fri, 16 Mar 2007 11:30:00 PST

one of my poemas

Disapointed Souls By Calista Hugo Disapointed souls, rise from the sea. Disapointed souls, what could it be? Gone are the masks they once had to wear, And here to stay is their mournful tale of despa...
Posted by Calista 4 p®esidenT on Thu, 15 Mar 2007 10:53:00 PST