that gravitational pull, rolling in the whelming flood, that feeling when the water pulls away at the sands around your feet, the salt and the peace and the weight, so inescapable. and there’s always a place for me in its power. I’m always home, I always belong and it always weathers me. the green, glassy sunlight, those white-tipped whispers, that ever-changing, always...
people never change ?
people are always going to love you, and you’re not really ever going to get it. so I guess, if you do one day, instead of being angry and hurt that it worked with someone else I think I’ll hope to be happy…
it comes in gusts: hatred, hope, forgiveness. you are dead, dead. dead to me now. you can be who you want, do what you feel, if anything. no, my influence wasn’t an illusion. but it’s all over now. here’s to you, and the dreams I left behind: once I said we were like puzzle pieces but not meant to go together - just rest side by side. I didn’t listen to...
just can't shake it
I’m still in love with the thought of you. reality’s hard pressed to keep up.
maybe I'll join the masses one day
there are some in this world who aren’t stabbed when they see you smile, who don’t smell your musky, sun-dried laundry warmth when they hear you sing; they can listen to Eminem and Relient K without envisioning your dark street, late at night, lit only by car headlights. our memories aren’t chains anymore. I’m free, but I’ll never forget.
all that innocence just fades
and fades and fades and fades… windy, rainy nights in the middle of the sea, when my heart was broken in a different way and my variety of loneliness was different, too. will there come a day when it comes full circle? you know what I’m counting on: that one day we’ll see each other in redemption and be part of that Body that is so much fuller and bigger and better than...
I don’t hate you. I can’t hate you, He loves you.
angry, for once
mmmmm, sorry, this is pretty ugly. I just…yeah…well, you’ll see: you took everything from me, and you’re not cold hearted, but you are silent. and that’s just as bad because it’s like you don’t care, and you never did. I don’t know anything about you. I hate that I wasted my time with you, I hate that I cared I hate that I sacrificed I hate...
ou es tu?
dear everything I hope and love, come back to me please. I am tired of feeling empty I am tired of feeling desperate I am tired of being dissatisfied. sincerely, the strangest, most awkward person I know.
I apologize that everything is approximately 2 lines long. I am writing a book for NaNoWriMo (challenge = 50 000 words written in the month of November!!!) www.nanowrimo.org so all of my thoughts and good words are being put towards that end, and by the time I get to this there isn’t much left. ;)
if you were wondering...
life does go on.
I have all these lovely, beautiful aspirations of who I could be, who I hope and believe I will be. but there is actually so much work and distance between here and there.
the quality of life is...very strained.
you are slowly slipping out of the quality of life; it’s no duller, nor more brilliant without you. the fact that there is still a quality of life, that I am still here - that is what’s impressive.
it's bloody freezing out,
and the weather has influenced my heart.
the snow makes everything beautiful, even our history.
wordsandsnow, lossandbeauty, lifeandblood, witandlonely, meandonlyme.
smiles in the rain. there will be a day when I am happy again.
this day =
the good, the bad, and the ugly. I think every day now is just a nice, fat package with samplings of just about everything this world has to offer; at some point I am bitter, I laugh really hard, I eat too much chocolate, I receive a pocket call from someone flushing the toilet, there is good music in the collegium, I almost fall asleep at school, I do something awkward, I think on things...
there’s the battle between reason and desire, and it’s worth questioning why and seeking out answers, but at the end of the day I still get a surge of joy at seeing your face, however ostracized the owner of it is from me, and a chilly sun on frosted grass still gives me peace.
conflict of interest
all the time: I want to live, but I want what kills me.
laid to rest/waste
to love someone is to build a city, and the bricks are time and the mortar is blood. to break up with someone is to demolish that city, but you can’t take back your tears, your sweat and your blood. you may only watch them go up in flames.
the elephant in the room
how could you have taken up so much room in my heart when your personality is so small and mine so big? my thoughts felt fat when I was with you, because I seemed to have so many and you so few. the giant that loved the who, and I shrank to be with you. but I never truly fit in your world. I make a better Horton.
you will never think on me and my family as I...
I love you in a way you cannot understand, because every soul is a delight to me. the world is comprised of glittering eyes and the stories that mouths re-make. you were to be the greatest of these, but you could not give - only take. but I wrong you and myself: that is a lie. you did give, and you gave with great grace. but there is a time for both grieving and chimes and neither you knew in its...
imagine me screaming this (IN CAPS)
people of Life, go for the Prize He became blind for the freedom in your eyes. people of Hope, hate yourselves no more a mirror reflects and it’s an open door.
hope on a night when the sun has set early
and out of the frozen ground, there dances a single, graceful stem, all at once fragile and impenetrable. the day begins, the day ends. winter kisses with snowflakes, winter spits with rain. the summer scorches, the summer glows. but always the reflection grows.
an equation: every memory has a full circle, and I have tried to cheat time with a hypotenuse, but I can’t, cos sin won’t let me. bahahaha, okay, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. they aren’t even good math puns. what I ACTUALLY wrote for today is above. :P
READY TO RIP SOMETHING IN TWO
honest to God, will my sadness never go away? does this melancholy have no end? I swear, sometimes I care just for the sake of caring. my heart is adrift and the fire in my eyes has burned out. why my passion cannot follow suit, I don’t know.
from commencement to conclusion, I was slowly dying; burning, to be an example of all things chaotic and lost in this world. thinking I loved the fire, and believing in its light alone. blind as a bat, charred as the ashes. I hope one day I may rebuild my home.
sleep drags me down, the walls around are a blanket of sweet, soft rest. I seek to leave this place aggrieved, but my Lord thinks not, and best. In all good time, I hope I’ll find that in staying I have blessed.
I could handle that.
sunlight on plaid, people chuckling to themselves, harmony and .5 a mark off on my midterm. _______________ this is a list, not a poem. I’ve been listening to Coldplay all day, and the only beautiful words in the world are the ones made by Chris Martin’s spectacular vocal chords.
night and mourning in the afternoon
when the rain kisses the sun, the delicate beams of dusk caressing the road, polka-dotted from hail, I believe in tomorrow. heavy black and lightest blue, it’s a dance and a fight and a promise that beauty has not forsaken me. threefold, the most unpleasant of pleasant surprises: your blue, bouncing gait; that sweet, bitter smell of knowing it will never be the same again and a...
all that can be said:
one down, a lifetime to go. one day at a time.
the unwilling historian
the dream burns, but reality is far more beautiful. I mustn’t forget. I don’t want this history without you, I don’t want this history at all. all that glitters is…obnoxiously similar to you. I was unsuspecting, but your hands, the golden, unwitting thieves, have dug their fingers in and emerged with nothing I can’t live without. - but it’s enough.
when I have fears that my words never really...
terror squeaks out between the lines, my heart pulls away every time. the power of words: the power to kill. the power to heal, the power to thrill. and I can’t help but think it ugly to see such potency housed in me. and the strongest of all: to dismantle the soul. what if it is, that unseeming, unjust, my heart reveals itself and crumples to dust?
there once was a girl named Anna she liked to give candy to children in costumes of bananas sometimes she acted like them a child at heart, until she entered the sleep of REM
emerging from the deep...to give you a list of...
there comes a time (every two pages of essay) when one must blast a little pop culture to remain sane. under the banner of this three-hour writing endeavor, it’s been a day of scarves with buns, spur-of-the-moment sushi, some reconnecting over tea and realizing that I have a 15-page paper due in 2 days. fuck the what! _________ this is not a poem, sorry. all artistic endeavors going...
maid de la mer
my home is a boat on the water, my heart is a fish in the sea. the lull of the waves is my comfort, when late hours and full days can’t sleep. my dreams taste of salt and inside my eye is a seafoam-green. where the tide goes, the drift-line shows, but it always comes back to me. a message in a bottle, a gull of the deep - at the end of the day, I’m my own company.
rinse, soil, repeat.
coffee and pineapple and Clair de Lune. I always miss you on Fridays. but pain is fresher for some today, so I remember instead standing underneath the yellow blanket of highlighter leaves, in the deluge and grinning at the prevalence of freedom in my soul. as raindrops fell like crystal kisses off the end of my nose, and you were a million miles away, even from my mind.
the silent moment with soup and giggling red trees
oh me, that I should be one to see Your face everywhere. yellow is a beautiful color, and melting butter on fresh, hot pumpkin cake is delicious and words are the greatest thing of all. the future is before me, the future is before us, me and my kin. and do not doubt: all the world is heir to this greatness and the beauty I have tasted.
there is a house by the sea
the thin spider’s web that our grace rests upon whips in the wind. it has withstood the gusts of my frantic heart, and the tumult quiets, it rings in the calm. it is a whisper, a tiny stream of truth. something I’ve done right, amidst the black mire of my volition. it is, by Grace, a light, spun from my aging prayers and your first tears. there is nothing that shines so...
no muse, no promises, but all the world’s a glimmer in my smiling eye. it’s a day to dream of rolling in the marshy-green hydro-seed and reaching my soul and limbs gracefully, solitarily, to touch and take of everything and everyone, all the days of my life. I’ve never doubted that love is the greatest thing we have to know.
this is closure:
a shared smile that admits the goodness of the future, alone.
hear none, speak none, see none
**** I happened to write two poems today, so this can kinda-ish just count for one of the ones I forgot to write this weekend ;) ***** Lift my soul as a breath in a tempest. I am a mire, so thick, so foul, I wish to cease, to be no more and be cleansed. But You ask me to sit, rank stir after rank stir, no whisper of freshness, of purity on the winds of change. I am rotten, to the very...
the philosophy of cleanliness:
everything has a place, and everything in its place. there’s a time to dive in, a time to say goodbye, a time to mourn, a time to be angry, a time to regret and a time for most everything to really, truly be okay. my room’s a mess, my heart’s a mess, my homework’s a pile, my future’s uncertain, my worldview is twisted … and really, truly, I am...
I missed 2 days of poems =/ oops.
and these three remain: ambition, memory and prejudice. power is the doppler-orange of street lamps on a long, straight back road and you’re all alone and the beat matches in your heart and the stereo. goodness is knowing you don’t have to forget to move on. and forgiveness is having grace for a person you’ll never be again, and for all the people that helped you be that...
the river of the soul is gold
He knows exactly what victory tastes like. but so do I; it’s that edge of the melting yellow in the leaves dancing with the pure blue of the gigantic eye and giggling again. and being happy for no reason, none at all minus the fact that the world is beautiful.
please, please, please, please give me what I want
and just take me away from this place. I don’t want consciousness anymore. to think is to die, a thousand times, every day.
the telephone rang, deep in the night. your voice is the sound of my first car rides alone, the silence more full than all our talks. and the scrape of crows’ feet on a railroad X, it calls to those future dreams that I’m becoming as we speak. thank you for making my last year of high school bearable, for showing me I never need to apologize for who I am and for saying “I love you” first. ...