Is it sick that I get my pleasure
From holding her while she cries
Over her boyfriend choosing another girl?
Seeing the tears spill over
I can only think how pretty she is
And what she would say
If she knew how much
I treasure moments like these.
Happened yesterday, at the football game. Unrequited love, oh sigh.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Untitled [10/18/09 @ 5:43 PM]
Lips and hands are clear as day
Warming the birds back to life in your bed.
The mattress rips open
And one hundred geese fling their feathers
Far and wide.
We fly.
Written in thirty seconds, after hearing the idiom 'burning the midnight oil.'
Warming the birds back to life in your bed.
The mattress rips open
And one hundred geese fling their feathers
Far and wide.
We fly.
Written in thirty seconds, after hearing the idiom 'burning the midnight oil.'
I had these girlfriends [10/6/09]
I had this girlfriend—a friend who was a girl—who had all these books. She had parents too. She loved the books; she loved her parents. One day, her parents got real sick. She kept the old books, but got new parents. This girlfriend's parents would take away a row of books every time she left her room dirty. All those books sat inside a dusty closet for years, with no one who would read them. I had this other girlfriend—another friend who was a girl—who had epilepsy. She had parents too. She loved her parents; she hated books. She never got rid of the old parents, but she did get new books. This girlfriend's parents would give her a row of books every time she had a seizure. All those books sat on a dusty shelf for years, with no one who would read them. Maybe I should've introduced them, maybe not.
Written as a warm up for English project. Based off of two good friends.
Written as a warm up for English project. Based off of two good friends.
Rocket-paper-ship [10/6/09]
This paper, executed skillfully and with an artistic flair, would take off like a rocket ship, the words acting as an impetus, sending it past Earth's orbit. Extolled by the stars and impervious to jeopardy, the rocket-ship-paper would move on to the malicious Sun. Scrutinized and abused by him, the rocket-ship-paper would settle on its rusted and dreaming haunches made of gears, and retrogress to Earth where it would be safe and comfortably trapped.
A project for my Honors English class.
A project for my Honors English class.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Untitled [9/22/09 @ 9:58 PM]
At many points in my life,
I expect to be delirious, devestateed, and disappointed.
In July, the girl I loved so,
The girl I snuck peeks at during costume changes
The girl I held hands with
The girl who held me when I watched RENT for the first time
and cried like a baby (I cried, not she)
In July, she told me how her body would foster anothers
Another tiny human, growing inside of her
And God, does she love her boyfriend.
Then, I was delirious.
For a month, I walked around in a haze
Not seeing, hearing, feeling anything
But the cold wind that slips through the cracks of my window pane.
On Wednesday, I felt the Sun.
On Thursday, my mother called me and told me my grandmother
My grandmother who I shoveled a driveway for
My grandmother who fed me nothing but root beer and ice cream sandwiches in the summer
My grandmother who cried out "That's my granddaughter!" when I sang the solo at my chorus concert in fourh grade
My grandmother who I watched leave with a sad look in her eyes, not to see for as years
My grandmother had died in the hospital.
Then, I was devestated.
Taken off the tube,
Told she was free
But as a butterfly's wings fold, my grandmother's heart stopped
It's ancient wizened beat
Leaving me to feel nothing but the snow flying through the cracks of my window pane.
On Monday, I felt the Sun.
On Tuesday, I prepped myself for disaster when would ask Him out,
He who I have known for one, two, three years
He who is kind and gentle and amazing
He who doesn't laugh at his bandmates perverted jokes
He who is the first guy I've liked in year
He will surely say no, because who the hell am I anyway?
But he says yes, we'll hang out at the football game, ca it a date
And God, the Sun is so strong I could burst.
Twenty minutes afterward, He
He who I trusted
He who held my heart in his hands
He, simply, squeezed.
"My giirlfriend will be there too."
And I'm still grinning like I expect him to kiss me or hold my hand or at least not take my heart and
SQUEEZE
But he does and all I can feel is the rain pelting my window pane.
I have been devastated, delirious, and now I have been disappointed.
When will the Sun come this time?
I expect to be delirious, devestateed, and disappointed.
In July, the girl I loved so,
The girl I snuck peeks at during costume changes
The girl I held hands with
The girl who held me when I watched RENT for the first time
and cried like a baby (I cried, not she)
In July, she told me how her body would foster anothers
Another tiny human, growing inside of her
And God, does she love her boyfriend.
Then, I was delirious.
For a month, I walked around in a haze
Not seeing, hearing, feeling anything
But the cold wind that slips through the cracks of my window pane.
On Wednesday, I felt the Sun.
On Thursday, my mother called me and told me my grandmother
My grandmother who I shoveled a driveway for
My grandmother who fed me nothing but root beer and ice cream sandwiches in the summer
My grandmother who cried out "That's my granddaughter!" when I sang the solo at my chorus concert in fourh grade
My grandmother who I watched leave with a sad look in her eyes, not to see for as years
My grandmother had died in the hospital.
Then, I was devestated.
Taken off the tube,
Told she was free
But as a butterfly's wings fold, my grandmother's heart stopped
It's ancient wizened beat
Leaving me to feel nothing but the snow flying through the cracks of my window pane.
On Monday, I felt the Sun.
On Tuesday, I prepped myself for disaster when would ask Him out,
He who I have known for one, two, three years
He who is kind and gentle and amazing
He who doesn't laugh at his bandmates perverted jokes
He who is the first guy I've liked in year
He will surely say no, because who the hell am I anyway?
But he says yes, we'll hang out at the football game, ca it a date
And God, the Sun is so strong I could burst.
Twenty minutes afterward, He
He who I trusted
He who held my heart in his hands
He, simply, squeezed.
"My giirlfriend will be there too."
And I'm still grinning like I expect him to kiss me or hold my hand or at least not take my heart and
SQUEEZE
But he does and all I can feel is the rain pelting my window pane.
I have been devastated, delirious, and now I have been disappointed.
When will the Sun come this time?
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Untitled [9/26/09 @ 10:02 PM]
Tomorrow I will leave this place
But not for where I intended,
Not where I intended to go.
I will fly with metal wings
And a hundred other strangers
To the desert of my heritage
To watch history,
Bloated and full of tubes,
die.
In one hour, I leave to see my dying grandmother in Nevada. Please be with me, even if my words are scarce for a week or so.
But not for where I intended,
Not where I intended to go.
I will fly with metal wings
And a hundred other strangers
To the desert of my heritage
To watch history,
Bloated and full of tubes,
die.
In one hour, I leave to see my dying grandmother in Nevada. Please be with me, even if my words are scarce for a week or so.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
I want to know so many things (alternate) [9/22/09 @ 4:09 PM]
Does the sky lay dormant
Stewing in its own blue
When no one's looking out the window?
There are too many people
Looking out the window
For the world to ever know.
Do the beds in hotels
Leap up and dance
When no one is snoring in their quilts?
Too many people are not at home
For the world to ever know.
Do the people here abandon politics and kiss
When they set aside their spite?
The people in this town are too full of hate
For them to ever know.
Does my mother sit down and cry at night
When she begs God to save my soul?
The walls are too thick between my mother and I
So I will never know.
This is the first version. The current one is happier, and worded better. I still like the last verse, even if it is depressing...
Stewing in its own blue
When no one's looking out the window?
There are too many people
Looking out the window
For the world to ever know.
Do the beds in hotels
Leap up and dance
When no one is snoring in their quilts?
Too many people are not at home
For the world to ever know.
Do the people here abandon politics and kiss
When they set aside their spite?
The people in this town are too full of hate
For them to ever know.
Does my mother sit down and cry at night
When she begs God to save my soul?
The walls are too thick between my mother and I
So I will never know.
This is the first version. The current one is happier, and worded better. I still like the last verse, even if it is depressing...
I want to know so many things [9/22/09 @ 4:34 PM]
Does the sky lay dormant
Stewing in its own blue
When no one's looking out the window?
There are too many people looking out the window
For the world to ever know.
Do the beds in hotel rooms
Leap up and dance
When no one is dreaming in their quilts?
Too many people are not at home
For the world to ever know.
Do the bears and the birds
Make love in the trees
When the T.V.'s don't tell them who to love?
National Geographic screams too loud
For the world to ever know.
Do the people here
Abandon politics and kiss
When they set their spite aside?
The people in this town are too full of hate
For the world to ever know.
What?! A titled poem?! Blasphemy!
In any case, this is my favorite that I've ever written... Hotel rooms are good for the writer, I guess... Something to do with taking me out of my comfort zone? Or maybe just insomnia from sharing a room with a snoring stepfather.
Stewing in its own blue
When no one's looking out the window?
There are too many people looking out the window
For the world to ever know.
Do the beds in hotel rooms
Leap up and dance
When no one is dreaming in their quilts?
Too many people are not at home
For the world to ever know.
Do the bears and the birds
Make love in the trees
When the T.V.'s don't tell them who to love?
National Geographic screams too loud
For the world to ever know.
Do the people here
Abandon politics and kiss
When they set their spite aside?
The people in this town are too full of hate
For the world to ever know.
What?! A titled poem?! Blasphemy!
In any case, this is my favorite that I've ever written... Hotel rooms are good for the writer, I guess... Something to do with taking me out of my comfort zone? Or maybe just insomnia from sharing a room with a snoring stepfather.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Untitled [6/18/09 @ 10:06 AM]
Shaky hands
Nervous feet
Jumping legs,
All the symptoms
But no cause
Except for him
And my heart joins the dance
As he pretends to stretch,
Looks back at me,
And begins tapping his feet.
How embarassing. Ah well. It was a part of my life.
There were two little hearts, one at the top, one at the bottom... Disgusting. xD
Nervous feet
Jumping legs,
All the symptoms
But no cause
Except for him
And my heart joins the dance
As he pretends to stretch,
Looks back at me,
And begins tapping his feet.
How embarassing. Ah well. It was a part of my life.
There were two little hearts, one at the top, one at the bottom... Disgusting. xD
Untitled [6/17/09 @ 8:58 PM]
The first time I ate sushi
It tasted sweet
Then it occured to me what I was eating.
The first time I ate a lie
It tasted sweet
Then it occured to me what I had just swallowed.
This one's old, and short. Profound? You tell me.
It tasted sweet
Then it occured to me what I was eating.
The first time I ate a lie
It tasted sweet
Then it occured to me what I had just swallowed.
This one's old, and short. Profound? You tell me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)