poetry

Work in progress, feedback appreciated! :)

Queen always on her color

That's the starting law

Sitting on a perfect throne

That no other piece gets to own

The King has his lands

The pawns their places

A neighbor just across the field

A perfect balance, a perfect harmony

Black and White standing strong 

Until greed sets in - just one square here

Another space forwards, send two more pawns

No damage done yet by the bloody white king

Stretching forwards, dividing the board

And the black king takes his turn

Retaliating, rebelling

Leading a revolution against the "light"

He sends his soilders to reclaim the lands

To liberate them from the unjust rule 

But it only takes a pinpoint of light

To taint the dark

And he too

Moves his pawns

His friends

Even his Queen, his everloving wife

From her throne

To protect the lands he has sacrificed so much to claim

To protect himself from the onslaught of his former friend

Now turned rival

In the end, the chessboard's only big enough for one man's greed

And who wins is often the luck of the draw

One manuever out of place

One more clever trap than the opponent

Before the king is cornered

His queen beheaded

His armies lost

And he is taken captive

you learned
from a young age
that beauty
is measured
in three digit numbers.

baby,
let me teach you
Read more »

The way that you gripped the steering wheel, I imagined maybe it was my thigh.  Your hand lightly embracing the surface of my skin. Gently cupped under the back of my knee. But I brushed that thought aside, no use getting swept away now. I keep trying to forget the cruel knowledge that I cannot spend all my time with you, also that the time I have will not last. What cruel knowledge that is.

i have lost the ability

to distinguish

between

the physical inability

and my own unwillingness Read more »

i.

i’ve been working on

breaking down the walls

that i spent

so long Read more »

Your voice is like the

Key

To my memories of

Younger years,

When my life was not yet fleeting.

And it is hoarse,

Coated with flaking maroon rust

From salty tears

Which corroded away the real reasons

For crying.

You were carried away from me

On waves that crashed

On the rocks of my cheek bones,

And beauty shaded by clouds of red

In the whites of my eyes.

And I carried my baggage by the

Black water lines

Of my eyes.

My throat leaps for keys

To unlock it’s cage of

Finely sewn chains.

But it’s hard to cry for help loudly,

Yet so painfully easy to let silence slip through

Gaps between the links.

And no amount of tearing will

Dislodge the chains;

Though paper rips so easily

When expanding and contracting

So rapidly

As you turn the keys to my memories.

Last week, or was it the week before that, to clear things up, it was June 7, 2013, a friday.  I went to school, I was happy, and I was optimisitc about the on-coming summer, and the on-comming celebration of going from one grade, to the next. Finally I was going to be a Junior. Everything was going my way. School was going fine, but it was quite, the news came around 9:00, the news that would tear my heart to pieces and maybe change me for ever. They found her suddenly dead, hanging in her closest. My best friend, my only, true, human of a friend. The one I told everything too.. and this, this is for her.

Angel, 

Child,

Whoever is up there.

Destoryer of life, and heaven and everything

in between. 

Darkness, and light

and the mist in the clearing.

Drifted away, without a final good-bye.

Or an ounce of hope left in your very still, already cool,

body.

Your last breath left shortly after signing your name to the letter,

the letter that would not describe why you did it,

but just,

that you hoped my cat came back. 

That was kind of you thank you, truley,

But rather you, then he. 

To the images in my head, 

flashing pictures of things,

that happened once again,

so long, so far away. 

Images of you, of me, 

of happy times and mellow thoughts.

Of singing, of laughing, of common courtesy,

It's final. 

What you did.

It's final, this feeling... Read more »

Last week, or was it the week before that, to clear things up, it was June 7, 2013, a friday.  I went to school, I was happy, and I was optimisitc about the on-coming summer, and the on-comming celebration of going from one grade, to the next. Finally I was going to be a Junior. Everything was going my way. School was going fine, but it was quite, the news came around 9:00, the news that would tear my heart to pieces and maybe change me for ever. They found her suddenly dead, hanging in her closest. My best friend, my only, true, human of a friend. The one I told everything too.. and this, this is for her.

Angel, 

Child,

Whoever is up there.

Destoryer of life, and heaven and everything

in between. 

Darkness, and light

and the mist in the clearing.

Drifted away, without a final good-bye.

Or an ounce of hope left in your very still, already cool,

body.

Your last breath left shortly after signing your name to the letter,

the letter that would not describe why you did it,

but just,

that you hoped my cat came back. 

That was kind of you thank you, truley,

But rather you, then he. 

To the images in my head, 

flashing pictures of things,

that happened once again,

so long, so far away. 

Images of you, of me, 

of happy times and mellow thoughts.

Of singing, of laughing, of common courtesy,

It's final. 

What you did.

It's final, this feeling... Read more »

I didn’t want to change anymore

Or to say goodbye again

But time marches on

We have come to a gentle end Read more »

For a while, I may sit and write of all the things that are known

But when I sit and think long enough even the known becomes mysterious

Could it be, that humanity only scrathes the surface of everything out there?

That what we think are great discoveries are really just basic facts

And maybe, the great theories we are still working on, will not eve help our greater problems.

However, if those mysteries that seem to be immense are only miniscule,

does that mean that the issues that threaten our daily life are just as small in scale?

And, to that, I say to you, no.

If a breathe of fresh air seems important to you now,

Do everything you can to get that air.

If a clean beach with no litter is necessary for your happiness,

pick up the trash you see and feel the sand in your toes.

You only have one life to live.

So I say to you, no,  and repeat

 You  only have one life to live.

Be proud of what you do.

If you feel sucessful you are. You cant go to the past and you cant go to the future.

Any stone you jump over could be life's greatest hurdle

Or it could just be a stone

So take those stones an jump because you can only go as far as you try.

I watch the  hill

Nothing is moving everything is completely still

No cars

Not a bubble forming on the fresh tar 

I can hear the birds

But the worms stay unheard

My bags sprawled on the floor

The occasional creak of wind hitting the door

The playground swings are gently swaying

I search for the car, but the blank parking lot confirms to me that I'm staying

Everything is awkwardly still

As I wait for the car to come over the hill.

My heart is a broken piano key

It is torn apart on the walls

For everyone to see

The wallowing time

Has only just started Read more »

I wake up every morning to a cup of tea

with my dad at the charcoal-granite island--

1.5 tbsp of sugar, caffeinated;

1 tbsp and decaf if I’m feeling particularly 

healthy.  

Every night,

I scribble thoughts in my notebook--

sometimes rambles, sometimes

coherent words that translate into

blog posts,

often pictures that temporarily

alleviate my symptoms.  Read more »

Let the warmth fill you

Through and through, 

And feel the chains that bound you

Bend, break,

And set you free.

Let yourself soar endlessly

Through poppy-scented skies

 And feel the stars shine

In to every crevice of your skin.

Now,

Do you remember why

You fell in love

With the words of the syringe?

Please,

Listen,

You are not broken.

This  world, Read more »

Ever since the age of two and a half,

John Hopper developed a curse

Every each word that he uttered since then

Had been in a strict rhyming verse.

Oh, scientists raved at the boy’s rhyming speech

Some called him a madman; insane

But when they looked closer it was a surprise

That nothing was wrong with his brain.

Then why did he rhyme? Was it some sort of trick?

A cruel and unusual joke?

Upon hearing this John broke out in a speech-

As always, he rhymed as he spoke.

“This was not my doing- I swear to the lord!

I’d stop rhyming now if I could

But it’s natural, see- I can’t stop making verse!

It seems I’ll be rhyming for good!”

His parents were saddened by this whole ordeal;

The fact that their son spoke in rhymes Read more »

Screaming and laughing,  Read more »

As you lay back on the forest floor

You are graced

By a dim light

That glows through your blonde hairs,

Like a halo all around you.

You are an angel to me.

When you exhale,

A trail of smoke rises from your cracked lips

And dances through the trees,

Celebrating it's freedom from 

Your windy, resin-coated lungs.

You watch it fade out,

It's bittersweet scent 

Still clinging to the air.

This...this isn't a sin.

This is heaven itself.

I find purpose

In the way your chest 

Rises slower than it falls

And I find peace

Halfway past this moment and

An arms-length from the sun.

May I take a moment of your time

To be unnaturally honest

And blatantly obvious?

May I say that my expectations

Have become unreachable

And unfathomable?

I’m always after a little more

Than what I deserve

And I feel like I’m taking more

Than what I’m worth

My life has become a loan

That I’ll never pay off

 So put your hands in the air

And give a cheer for your heroes

That I’m always dreaming to be like

But I always pale in comparison to

I would aspire to be them

But it’s more than I’m able

I desire to become them

And it’s too much to handle

And if I could then I would be

Something great for you to see

But I am just ugly

Broken and weary

Some nights I just break down

Sometimes I hate this town

Sick of the same sound

And starting to drown

And I don’t want to be your burden

But I want to be worth the world

And I don’t want to feel that way

If it isn’t true

And if you could relate to this

If you ever felt worthless

I’ll be here to remind you

That it isn’t true

(Okay, so this looks really long, but I REALLY appreciate anone who takes the time to read it all! Thanks! )

One hundred and twenty two steps

Is the distance from my porch to the

Vacant house.

I used to romp through those saplings,

Which are wider that I am now,

Worrying about ticks and spiders

And any other crawling things

That could cling to my dress

Which I had been instructed to keep clean.

His hands were pudgy,

Yet, so were mine.

I guess we hadn’t grown up;

At that point, we had only grown out.

My little brother used to follow us;

Frederick.

He hated being Fred, and he hated the rick.

I guess his name was just a lost cause.

To escape the rick,

I had snuck out before the sun had time

To shimmer on blades of grass.

I guess the Fred in his name immunized

Him from the cold of the summer night;

However, he was petrified of night as black as tar

Ever since that car hit our tabby cat.

And so with success,

I had snuck away to see

The boy with the pudgy hands.

And we walked through the woods,

Dragging our feet through the mud

As we dared ourselves to take one more step.

One hundred and twenty two steps;

I remember counting between gasps.

Between maple leaves,

A golden window floated in the darkness.

We ran.

Hands on our knees, panting by my porch, Read more »

Just Me Again Down Here

It’s just me again down here,

you see, no one cares about me. Read more »

I have seen all of your faces, but only in the moonlight.

They sing different songs

with language strewn across their lips 

like mounds of rubble that piled up quickly.

Each mouth sings, asking me to bless their vowels

and strangle their consonants

because consonants are viewed as too solitary, where their from.

Strings have been strung over the window in your cell

like the birds that were stretched across the sky.

Music is too pretty, scream your faces as they each ask your hands to do different things.

They hurl shards of letters and punctuation and scribbles and spaces,

 Real words, on occasion.

I watch from my perch, blocking the moonlight

until the gap between your teeth fills with doubt and each face is hung and shadowed.

Only now you realize that your songs are only mumbles. 

Stunted, and easily hushed into wreckage.

I sunk into my chair

And tucked my head feeling the dampness of my hair

I feared the morning

For it's 10:00 at night

My face was wet and my nose was runny

And at this point nothing is funny

The fabric from the chair is scratching my legs

And my nerves are sweating out in loose threads

When I hear the phone ding

My eyes start to sting

The txt

That I get 

Hurst more 

And more

Each time I read it

"You're ugly, and stupid go cover your face."

Sour, distaste

The stinging stops

My heart beat drops 

I don't want to cry but this bullying won't stop.

There was this one day,

that I decided to play,

but then that day,

I thought I heard a stray,

I looked all around,

but no cat to be found,

It was a little girl,

sleeping in a quite comfy curl,

I asked her to play,

but instead she hissed me away,

but to this day,

she is not a stray,

a human, yes indeed, 

she now has fingers, toes, and knees, 

she still may not be normal,

but she doesn't act like a carnivorous mammal

 Far away a lone flower blooms.

Alive only by the soft light of the moon.

In a dream she catches the whisper of a tune.

The song of the lost and lonesome loon.

Hear the melody it is destined to croon.

Rich petals burst from the bud.

In every direction their color floods.

Delicate thorns on the stem like studs.

Earth beams up at the work of her flesh and blood.

Regrow with the moon and out of the mud.

 Here is my shoulder,

on which to cry when days get colder.

I offer my chest,

lay down your weary head and rest.

My arms are open wide,

they will give you somewhere to hide.

With feet on the ground,

I can lead you through the storm safe and sound.

With legs strong and sure,

there is no evil I wont endure. Read more »

When you go,

will you go slow?

Or maybe fast,

rushing so you won't be last.

Perhaps you don't care,

your only thought is of getting there.

Do you need to be led,

or do you know the direction in which you head?

Will you wander left and right,

or are you one with blessed flight?

It doesn't matter how,

nor does it matter if others allow.

Just do what you know,

and go go go.