She walks in the shadow of the night.
With flourescent eyes that glare with light.
Encased in the iron she breathes,
This girl is bursting at the seams.
Child's sitting pretty on a shelf.
She's dirt, she's hope.
She's an iron soldier,
In all its wealth.
She opens her arms to silver rain.
She opens her heart to no mans name.
Her hands, like the hope of a lightless dawn,
Her smile, with God's own pencil drawn.
She's waiting for the knife that bursts the seams.
To free iron, watch an angel's dreams.
Falling from the sky is a golden rain,
Calling to her heart is hope's own name.
Pain in shadows, moonlit tears,
Sings of sorrow, but no one hears.
Cold and broken, where the soulless came,
Can't remember, how glory reigned.
Healing water, running dry.
Waits for rainstorms, to quench its cry.
Dying faces, and spirits gone,
Wilted roses, forgotten songs.
Holding hands, with fate and death,
Watching freedom's final breath.
Seeing now, when rust controls,
Chains won't break, only souls.
But sunshine follows, knows its cost,
Will always find them, if they're lost.
The sun is rising, in the east,
To spread its glory, on fatal beasts.
I swore once that I would never leave any piece untitled. However, I have already recited this poem for a large crowd. After that it doesn't feel right to go back and name it.
I performed this on the Wednesday the13th at my school.
If you want to know the best feeling ever, it is when the person you write for doesn't pry and try to figure out if something they said caused you to write something. They give you full credit for it.
I keep the names of people that you love in my pocket,
Along with a list of things you cannot live without,
Because I hope that someday
I can be one of them.
There are too many apologies floating around in my head
and they remind me of you,
because you’ve always wanted me
to drape my world in shades of freedom.
I like to imagine you painting;
Dipping your fingers in creation,
Smearing ugly blobs onto the pages of my reality,
And generating characters that could set world-wide examples.
I write your words on my hands in my free time,
Wear them like the art that they deserve to be.
Because I hope to God that if I can decode them someday,
They will teach me how to love.
There are plenty of great things to live for, to enjoy, to savor. Art, music, literature, nature; beauty in all its forms. However, one must be ready to pursue happiness in order to accept and appreciate beauty. Humanity’s greatest struggle and highest calling is the pursuit of happiness and personal development, and that journey starts with the decision to begin it. The struggle towards personal acceptance and love, the challenge of expressing and responding to emotion and desire, and the adversity brought forth by yourself and others is a result of the freedom with which we are blessed.
The freedom to engage in one’s development of his own volition, and success in spite of adversity is the very essence of beauty. Greater than this is the choice to pursue this struggle. However, this choice cannot exist without the freedom to make it; life would be a dreary slog towards a forgone conclusion, lacking involvement, trial, and fear of failure. Read more »
Freedom is to stand out from behind shielded bars of cold metal. To be free is to act, wait in waiting no longer. I am waiting, in captivity, until my time comes. I fear to not be free. I fear metal and darkness, afraid that what joy and peace is left here will be gone. I fear to be seen through hatred eyes, that who I am is not seen with true light. But when I can speak, and be heard, when my voice is risen above others, then am I free.
I have wings on the back of my shirt
They remind me of angel wings
They're the kind of wings
I'd tattoo on my back
If I didn't want to act
And wasn't worried about
The repercussions of an angel wings tattoo
Sometimes when I wear the shirt
I kid myself that I can feel the wings on my back
Would I fly?
What would I do
If I did fly?
I'm a bit of a dork
So I'd probably hover high over my neighborhood Read more »
Have you ever walked through the forest Read more »
A school assigment, I modeled this poem after Wallace Stevens 'Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird'. Hope you enjoy it
Thirteen Ways of Looking at Freedom
Among placid and static water
The only thing flowing Read more »
The air hangs heavy
Each word rises through the air
Parting the molecules
On its path
To a better place
Stuck to the ground
Unable to fly upwards
Because they froze to the ground
Long, long ago.
One of the times I felt like I was free was when I was on vacation in Cape Cod. I had (or rather, my parents) just bought a new dual-line kite. It was 48 inches wide, rainbow-colored nylon stretched across fiberglass struts. The kite was purchased from a tent near a huge field, kites flying everywhere. There was every kite, from the paper one-string craft book cutouts to a realistic two-seat sport plane to a trio of eighty-inch kites trailing fifty-foot rainbow-colored ribbons. Read more »
Why do I have to have this addiction,
razor blades shining sharp & silver,
glinting in the faint moonlight
& promising a relief from this pain.
(& some days I just don't think
I can go any longer on my own)
Every strong emotion,
stress & anger & embarrassment & sadness,
leave me lusting for those steel-metal blades
that leave such perfect red lines
on my pale Irish skin.
(The natural high makes me want to scream
out my momentary happiness
& the stress that comes with this addiction)
& the secrecy & lies
just make an honest girl
feel like such a stranger to her friends Read more »
Every summer, late in August, I spend a week in Maine with a good friend. There are two reasons why that week is my favorite of the year: the time spent with Ellie and the unchanging town. For four years I've gone back to the same sandwich shop every other day for lunch, ordered the same sandwich and gotten the same peppermint stick ice cream cone afterward. There remains the comfort of walking barefoot down sandy, sunny streets, and the lazy, warm days smattered with jumps into the still-ice-cold water of the Atlantic. Read more »
A Broken System
Run, running, ran,
from the top- The big shots.
In. Out- Huff. Puff.
Breathing only at safe spots.
At night, like the villian,
thinking out schemes and plots.
See, seeing, saw,
the tall, grown wheat
from the field of freedom,
and sticking feet
in the stream of serenity,
pushing on to keep the beat.
Break, breaking, broke,
the system that kept us in.
All this while losing.
Here's my comeback- My win.
But I'm not coming back.
I'm out where we should have been
if we kept on track.
Go, going, gone.
But what to do? Read more »
Lets take one foot, then the other
Into the forgotten world
But we are born to be free
Even when bodys lay motionless & hearts still beat
Revive our comrads & retrive our National flag
Take my hand & we'll step into freedom together
Your on your own now my friend, keep your head held high
Sit here, still as the thinker, quite surrounds
An island under the blistering sun.
Sometimes, you wish you could get up and run.
No matter how you see it life confounds,
For every scrap of love, greater hate abounds.
No one guaranteed this life would be fun,
At this moment it is coming undone.
You try to speak but can’t make any sounds,
cry out for help, only hell answers back,
false promises and smiles, say “fly to me”
“I’ll give you it all, the shirt off my back!”
“Never a slave, you shall always be free,”
Ignore all the lies, his heart is coal black. Read more »
I wish to fly up, away from this
Profane reality. I want to dance around
Mountain peaks, glide just above the
Glistening sea. A glorious existence.
I shall kiss the sun, and navigate the
Moon across an amorphous ethereal
Cloudscape. If I could fly I would seek
Council with the gods, high above the
Overpopulation, people, death, smog
And willful profound ignorance.
I can fly, in my mind I am
faster than any hawk, wiser than
the owl, fiercer than an eagle protecting
her eggs. And yet I know nothing of my
purpose, or reason for being here. Read more »
I’ve always wanted to live in a houseful of cards
Sleep, surrounded by king and jack guards
But I know it would fall, come tumbling down
Crumble round my head, like a false king’s crown
But if you don’t dream, you will never be free
So a house made of cards, it’ll always be for me.
In our senior year, we're asked to write a memoir- a piece describing our four years. I thought I should post mine- perhaps an incentive for others to post short stories. It does have a few difficult subjects, as well as a couple of reposts- but overall, I think it's a decent piece. any suggestions would be welcomed as well.
[No character ever wins- no matter what life they lead.]
He told me:
“You’re working from something that you can’t have experienced. Try something easier.”
She asked me to:
“Either choose a topic that you can understand and explain, or I’ll be forced to choose for you.
They told me:
“You’ve got amazing word choice- now just make me believe this isn’t just some dumb character that I’m supposed to care about.
I told them: “I’ll make her real.”
:FRESHMAN YEAR: Read more »
Freedom is mine
What freedom is, is not a question,
But a thing. Freedom?
Freedom is out in the free air
Where all can do as they please. Freedom?
Singing, dancing, doing your own thing.
The birds chirping going throw the air
Seeing every thing in their way.
When nature combines with us we see,
We see all that can be done.
Freedom, life is not endless but a gift.
A gift. Freedom. A gift. Freedom.
We all can show this with a blink of an n eye
And then it all is gone.
Have you ever wondered how lucky we are to live in a free country? We are extremely lucky to have this amount of freedom in our every day lives. Freedom means equality. If you weren’t treated equally you wouldn’t have freedom. You wouldn’t be living the full American dream and life.
Another reason to give people freedom is the importance of will power. You wouldn’t have enough will power to make decisions for your self, you couldn’t choose between right and wrong. Giving people freedom is important. If you didn’t well…… that’s dictatorship. Will power is connected to freedom, so if there is no freedom then there is no will power. Read more »
She’s free and she knows
She’ll never have to go
Through the pain he once caused in her
Without his impairing
Complete lack of caring
Her soul, it is soapy and new
Cause now she’s alive
And she’s able to strive
For the woman she’s destined to be
Once caught up in love,
Then push came to shove
It’s a miracle she came out so clean
Bullets are tearing through the air
I hear your sword clanging in the distance
Defending yourself against hundreds of men
And trying not to lose your stance
There are screams carried by the wind
Yours are among them, crying out in pain
But I only hear everything faintly
Due to my state, trapped in my own brain
Slowly, I begin to break free of my trance
I realize the distant sounds have ceased
Carefully, I force myself to my knees
And crawl towards the hell that was released
The rain falls as if the heavens are crying
Everything is silent, in an unnatural way
I see you ahead and drag myself forward
Through the blood of the enemy you had to slay
Lying there, coated in your own blood,
Your eyes are staring off into space
Your sword hangs limp in your hand
A look of death lingers on your face
I pull myself close and hover over you
And as I look down into your eyes
You suddenly make a noise of agony
You look up at me, smiling despite your demise
You tell me that I have to keep on living
And give me your dreams and honor to keep
Then, still smiling, you close your eyes
And drift off into an eternal sleep
At first, my brain doesn’t register what’s happened
And then it begins to dawn on me
I raise my head to the sky, tears pooling in my eyes,
And scream out in pain and misery
This whole thing isn’t fair at all
All we had wanted was to be free
To escape that horrible place
But they refused to let us flee
You sacrificed yourself, gave your life for me
I slowly stand up, trying not to collapse in a heap
I look back at you one last time and realize:
The price of freedom is most definitely steep
I'm flying high
Way above the clouds.
I see all of the birds fly by
On their way back to the ground.
They are so wild and free,
Just like I wish I could be.
What I would give,
To see life through their eyes.
Who is this stranger sitting on my bed side table?
His blue-green eyes fixed on me.
His arm stretched around a young lady,
all kept inside four wooden walls.
He is a figment of my memory.
Someone who I would laugh and dance with.
Someone who would lend me a shoulder to cry on.
Give me a kiss in the deep depths of secrecy.
Whispers fill my head, his head.
All lies, all lies! Read more »