Biography of Ronnie Heaven
Ronnie Heaven is a 24 year old writer, poet and musician who hails from L.A. and currently resides in vibrant San Francisco. Drawing inspiration from such diverse sources as Edgar Allan Poe, Aleister Crowley, Jim Morrison and Chevy Chase, Ronnie writes poetry, reviews and is working on her first novel, which is set in the Old West. Ronnie seeks to find the sharp edge of the blade, the hilarity in the darkest of circumstances and to imbue the reader with a renewed sense of wonder in the glorious insanity of life.
Ronnie Heaven's Works:
Dactyl Poetry Anthology
Ronnie Heaven Poems
Medusa Of The Stupor
The opium serpent slithers into my line of sight, Casually distorts my focus and resolutely occupies the base of my spine She’s colorless and odorless And she takes for granted my frantic embrace
Sing With Me
My tongue comes slowly out of my mouth like a dog's dick Lapping up the fresh scent of day This joy is so acute, it hurts. Fucking painful
Rolling Like A Freight Train
Whiskey, nicotine, weed, meth, Vicodin, klonipin All begrudgingly combined to create a monster, An adventurous zombie, Losing motor skills faster that the orbit of mercury
All The Worlds A Rage
Enraged baby authoritarians Take a much need break from manufacturing outrage To deliver death threats, fresh outta the oven (No, not those ovens)
Here I sit on this subway Rocking, swaying, hurtling towards everything And nothing much This city is arrayed like a high priestess
All Of The Above
I will write until I'm hollowed out, until the well is empty and I can fill it up with… What? For the first time in my adult life I am a blank page. And I don't resent it. So who am I? Tragic hero?
I Needed Today
I needed today Not like a hole in the head But like fresh water after the Gobi Like just-released-from-prison sex
Winter eve, the slightest sound Crackles like ice in a glass of scotch Like flames lapping at defeated wood My mechanical heart in key with my watch
What Do I Want?
What do I want out of life? That's a good question. Perhaps this feeling of dread, sitting pretty on my chest like a sack of bricks, is a boon rather than a bane. I am doing my best to strip my old expectations and deeply held beliefs like so much old paint, but it's a lengthy process. More than anything, I want to be loved. Simple, almost cliche, yet true across the board for everyone. We need others to properly define us, in the spectrum of everyday life at least. If I was alone in a cabin on a high peak, with only eagles and mountain goats for company, I could find an infinite amount of reasons to exist (namely existence itself) because nature and peaceful solitude, coupled with complete responsibility and autonomy are inherently definitive- we are alive to be alive. Out in the concrete jungle I feel unmoored. The woman I wanted is out of reach, the love I seek is abstract and increasingly suffocating in it's elitism. Is love elitist, or merely a compulsive gambler? How do I get on her good side? I'm content, but it's not enough. I am not content with contentment. I want leverage in this see-saw world, I want a bird's eye view of the mayhem and frivolity, whilst safely ensconced in my own private Idaho, er California. A good woman escapes me.
Deer skull crown For a backwoods King Hidden in the dark Waiting for the spring
A smile on legs. A smile on legs is sashaying down the narrow sidewalk, guiding two befuddled Caucasians wearing the word “gringo” like a badge of honor. “Coffee? Yes come here. You don’t want anything else? ” He’s leading em on a merry chase, he is
Medusa Of The Stupor
The opium serpent slithers into my line of sight,
Casually distorts my focus and resolutely occupies the base of my spine
She’s colorless and odorless
And she takes for granted my frantic embrace
Smiles knowingly at the desperate abandon in my eyes, before desecrating my will with a flick of her undulating tongue
Leaves me with a mouth full of dry shit and a head brimming with dastardly echos
My throbbing groin drowns out the voices in the other room, and only now do I notice the bars of