writing

Man...haven't done one of these in a while. I was just rather inspired today. anyways, here goes.

Prepare for (kill all the) lice children - Tomorrow I go to the grade school, for some sort of all-day-long "festival". And by "festival", I mean "the school makes us do work all day". Apparently there's an epidemic of lice running around the grade school, thanks to some asshole little kids. So I'm bringing in a can of "Raid", and wearing a paper bag with a face drawn on it and eyeholes cut out. When I'm approached by little kids, I will draw my "Raid" and spray them in the eyes, later explained to be "in self-defense". No thanks, kids, but I'm not going to be able to pull off a Micheal Stipe.

Raffi - I really just can't get over about how awesome it would be if all of a sudden Raffi started a hardcore punk band. "RING! RING!! RING!!! BANANARCHY!!!" I enjoy screaming this whenever I can.

I'm amazed
At myself
At how much
I've written

A little over
Two weeks
And I'm
A freakin' poet

I can't stop
Poetizing everything
That comes to mind

That I think
That I feel
That I see

I'm an artist

My paintbrush
A blue ballpoint

My canvas
100 sheets of
Lined paper
In a spiral notebook

I'm a musician

Playing notes
With my keyboard
Keeping in time
With my heart

Screw the conductor
This is all improv
I don't need boundaries

They're restrictive
They're for starters
They're not for me

I like who I've become
I like who I'm becoming
I like who I am

I may not inspire others
Just by writing
But I'm inspiring myself
And trust me

That's the hardest of all

The Journal
Aliza Amsden

July 24, 1982
I was sitting at my desk listening to the rain steadily tap on the roof. We had a big house but because of the amount of people in the house I had to stay on the “top floor.” That is what my mom called it to try and make me feel better but we all knew it was the attic. I hated the attic with all its spider webs and bugs. But on a day like today in a week like this week the attic was my favorite room. It was cozy when it is raining because it is such a small place, and also a place where I can get away from my crazy family members.
Jessica

Hi my name is Jessica and all I would like to say is…
“Jess get down here right now,” my mom screamed up the stairs. “Your family came to visit you and what do you do? Go hide in your room. Jessica Anne Isabel Landth come down here right now.
“Mom please stop yelling at me I’m coming”
“I don’t hear footsteps up there.”
My mother was the kind of person who was very and I mean very strict but still had the average snotty teenager in her. She had to have everything in order but was definitely a brat. She liked talking back to me and my brothers and sisters when she knew that we were mad at her but were trying to be nice.
“Jess, why are you up in your room again? Your family loves you and wants to spend time with you. Besides you never get to see them so it is nice to have them here.”
“I know mom but cousin Laura Jean made me mad, and I needed time to calm down and write in my journal.”
This seemed to satisfy my mom probably because she was a writer. She started making me keep a journal when I first learned how to write but now I enjoy writing in it.
“Okay, well then I understand but you really should come and visit with your family.”
“Fine I will come down but we all need to find away to stop fighting because it really gets on my nerves when my cousins yell at me.

***

Writing the same word
(name
Again
Again

Every day
the same five
letter
are traced into
the sand
across the beach

I'm asked what they mean
But I can't say
at least exactly

they confuse me
those letters
on the beach.

Look up in the sky!- During art history today, we were looking at religious art from the middle ages. There was one painting that was part of the story of St. Francis of Assisi, and it showed all of these people looking at Francis. Then, I noticed something. In the sky was a hand. Seriously, a human hand was just floating there, in the sky of that painting.

There are three girls in the bathroom already.
Occupying all three sinks
with their makeup bags,
laying it on thick,
staining their eyes.

I want
to go right up
and tell them
that their foundation is tested on animals,
but I don't.
They don't even glance to see
who had creaked open the door,
because everyone they would want to associate with
is either there already
or a boy.

I think about how
they do have stained eyes,
and minds.
Tainted from images of
‘Beautiful’ girls
‘Skinny’ girls
‘Perfect’ girls
Everywhere around us.
I really feel sorry for them.
Even though they may feel
they should feel sorry for me,
because through their eyes,
I am not those things.

But who decided that those things
Even exist?

I couldn't help it, it's too fun.

When we write,
do our
voices
become
confined

to that empty
space
of white,
each black slash
marking
making
mixing
an emotion

what is it
that tells us what we
can
and cannot
say?

ourselves.
Ourselves

we are
our own

censorship.

arm the fourth.

Tessie- The official song of the Boston Red Sox (well, the other official one) by the Dropkick Murphys; a.k.a: best song ever.

Heavy Backpack- My backpack is continually full of crap. Clothes, 3 novels, a textbook, and two folders. It probably weighs close to 20 pounds. Imagine walking that a mile uphill. I didn't have to imagine that. I did it today.

The third installment.

The second in the series.

Bone Marrow- Randomly, some girl in my class said that wasn't bone marrow bad for you, couldn't it do bad things to your body? I laughed inwardly, because it was off-topic and pointless, and that i had read otherwise elsewhere. But I didn't say anything, cause then people would have yelled at me for having an alternate opinion.

Everyone else is watching TV now,
All in the same room,
A show that I could care less about,
So once again,
I am writing,
Except this time,
I am writing by the light of his computer.
Unlike the others,
He is surfing the web,
Unaware I am writing,
Especially about him.
I’m glad he came back from swimming.
His hair is glistening from the water,

These four walls that I’m trapped in,
getting smaller and smaller every day
as I enter in, it’s just all routine.

I look and see the world outside,
it’s just the same view, but changes
every time I wonder in the frontier.

As I think, the possibilities and opportunities
grow more and more desired by the void
that lies below my overclouded mind.