Words flow from your mind
to your hands
to the screen
And only the best
minds can see
what they mean
Minds that are trained
years and years
just to find
The meaning of life
in a single
She sat across from him, picking her lip, staring into his eyes. He, also seated, was looking at his untouched burger, (He stared back at her, stared at her lips, etc) then he looked away. Slowly, the girl grabbed her knife, and slid it under the table, and stabbed him in the leg. He gave her a look.
“I just wanted to try it,” she said.
He rolled his eyes, got up, and left her forever.
The eeriness of a murder's home,
But this is the home of souls.
That no longer deserve to be forgotten.
The air is thick of not death,
But of decay.
The decay of memories.
These are memories of children,
Children in each and everyone of them
As they were slaughtered by the cat,
By the man with the threatening voice
And bitter beliefs.
Didn't see the next day,
The new day.
We gaze upon this memoir,
The pieces of scrap fabric,
This assortment of foot wear.
All different sizes and shapes,
Yet these soles have one thing in common,
Their owners did not deserve to die.
The café at which I sit is humming with anticipation.
The table looks like it hasn’t been cleaned since 1984.
That’s a great book…
I order my usual
Burger and fries.
The memories of you, still engraved in my guilty conscience,
keep me quiet as the waitress walks by.
My fries come in their usual little plastic bin.
With the white and red plaid paper.
Soaked in a horrendous amount of grease.
Hell, they say this is the American meal.
The ideal imagery.
Almost a too perfect painted picture
to represent a society living in a moribund way of life.
After being lied to for so long,
your short skirt and leather jacket
act as a barricade for a border I don’t have a passport for.
The desert sands blowing a tornado up into the deep blue sky, almost artistically.
However, the morning brings a blood red sunrise. Read more »
I wish to bring forth a humble concern of mine.
For countless moon risings your powerfull blow,
Has been wilting my fragile petals,
Which; by now have mostly fallen to the musty earth,
To watch them float away in your arms,
Without the chance to way good-bye,
Hurts my ghost which is now more or less,
At peace with the possibility that my stalk,
Might no longer support me.
My request is in the will of my helpless seeds,
Pleas Mr.Northwind; don't tear them away from the earth while they are too young, before they grow.
Before they got the chance; the only one they had.
To bloom and floorish and bring beauty and light into this sombre world.
Excuse me, is this your cell phone? It just dropped and I think it may have broken...
My cell phone? It broke?
My cell phone broke?
Are you serious?
Are you sure?
OMG! OMG! OMG!
My social life is tots ruined!
What am I going to do all day?
Does this mean I have to actually pay attention in class?
Do my hw?
How am I going to chat with all those friends that need me?
How will I tell my 500 twitter followers exactly what I'm doing every sec of my life?
What if the boys I gave my number to finally call?
How will I get word out about the party 2morrow?
What if my BFF has a fashion emergency and needs to call me?
What if I need Mommy to drive me to the mall?
How will I tell that boy that his joke made me LOL?
Wait a sec.
Back up a bit.
I don't even have a cell phone.
Just for one night, we'll pretend it's love.
You smell sweet and safe
And herbal tea.
I feel as empty as the sea, so
Fill me with words that
Won't mean much in the morning
But tonight Read more »
“So i was like talking to her, and all the sudden Mia walks up behind me, and she’s like, ‘take this you idiot,’ and she slaps me, and i’m all, ‘what the heck?’ but she just like walks away, and”…. My text conversation goes on and on, blissfully pointless, but strangely satisfying. I always say that friends are better through a phone, and I live like it. I hardly ever see my best friend anymore, because I don’t need to. She’s right there in my pocket. Today my mom said I should get outside, so now I’m walking around downtown, with my eyes glued to the mesmerizing glow of my phone, which I hold reverently, like it’s a holy artifact. My thumbs hammer away, sending every little thought I have out to my bff. Actually, I can’t even quite remember what she looks like. I think she’s blond… no, wait; maybe she has brown hair…whatever. I don’t really care. As long as she keeps up the texts, it doesn’t matter. I find myself wandering up Main Street, and crossing it without looking up. In the background, I hear some honking and the screech of tires. Whatever. I walk into the mall, and wander through the crowds. Read more »
Anyone notice how hopelessly broken
Our TV screens seem to be?
We’ve been raised on it since we were children
But now the cracks are all I see.
The news divides the nation,
A place where suicide is advertised,
We’ve destroyed this generation
With all we’ve monopolized,
Fear and makeup is all I see,
War is painted on the screens,
And death is served with morning coffee,
Replacing our lingering sweet dreams, Read more »
Peirce my soul,
Seep into my being,
Like a thousand lightining bolts.
Break my heart forever,
With your eternal beauty.
Your spirit is like a storming tornado,
Thrusting my body forth.
Into your waiting arms.
Your peircing light
Which tempted my love
Pounds at my door; waiting
My heart aches for you.
I turn away
Leaving your soul to rest
In the paradise you came.
Leaving me; Leaving me for not too long,
Though I cry.
Kneeling before your grave.
I would join you in paradise now,
If only you were there to guide me back.
Shame; How could I even think of leaving them behind.
Now is too soon,
So I pray you watch over me.
Still in my frail physical body,
Until soon our spirits reunite.
And create again that storming tornado,
Now as one.
We are now one,
And I remember,
This is not the first time.
We were always together,
Though death has always binded us closer.
Remember; In the next thousand years to come.
We shall never be as we where never seperated,
For I love you with all my heart,
And my feelings for you are eternal.
As eternal as the crashing waves of the mystic oceans.
Forever one with life as much as death.
I have something urgent to tell you
And there isn't a doubt that I should
But my phone- well, I dropped it- it's broken in two.
Believe me, I'd call if I could.
The message I have is important
And by saying that there's no mistake
It needs to get straight to you, ASAP
I won't lie- the world is at stake!
Without my cell phone I am nothing.
I feel like a part of me's died.
I'm locked in a cell without anyone else
or any links to the outside.
I sent the phone in- it has warranty Read more »
Traveled by day,
Sleeping the night.
The colors lightened,
And the road whitened.
She sleeps in her nook,
Small and damp with age; shivers
Hidden; like a fly covered by the spiders shiny webs,
You forgot about her,
The clover blooming at her side
But on the side of the path she still awaits,
And Every dusk she sits and shivers,
Knowing you will come.
The moon and stars will grow old,
And her skin will whiten like the road did on that sunny day, Read more »
High notes carried through a speechless wind,
Feelings so strong, yet carried so thin.
In Twirls and Swirls they laugh at me,
Whom composed this wind of thoughtless emotions?
I will not live to be assured.
Maybe they laugh at you too,
Sometimes, in my dreams,
They appear as a wise sea horse or,
Maybe a drifting butterfly,
A lonesome castle on a dark ocean cliff.
I don’t know.
This poem seems senseless,
And I try to describe something even I don’t understand,
The only way you might know what I feel,
Is if you ever had,
The feeling you just woke up in paradise.
This moment is perfect, living as it does
with unfettered bones
but splintered skin.
The grasses are metallic: hissing, rippling
in the singing storm overhead.
The bark of the thin-wanded trees
gapes open and life froths forth,
white and tender. Here
are my hands
I offer them to you and your silver-whip blades.
Paint them clean in the rain,
darkness has been staining my knuckles
and it won't come off.
My vertebrae filled with lead, slowly, Read more »
Mama fell in love with a hobo man.
She put her pretty ring in his old tin can.
And when her baby offered heaven, said,"your a real nice man."
But she let the pennies fall through his ghostly hand.
Rainey was the sky where the corn fields met.
Wove into each other like a fishing net.
Wrapped around the ankles of a boy in his bullet,
all singing to a lord, "Not done growing yet."
All singing, "let me love with the life of me."
"My bones hate to share their roots with reality." Read more »
You were my vision of strength.
You were my safety in pain and
my greatest hallucination.
We knew how hunger felt.
Hunger not only for nourishment but
for the nirvana of being understood
and I could have fed you
but I was too busy
I felt your aching confusion
pulse through my veins
as if it were my own.
I felt your suffering through Read more »
My young heart still feels every moment we had together.
My stomach still flutters thinking of our first kiss.
I can close my eyes and see your blue eyes shinning down as you stare back down at me.
We had everything, young love packaged in a perfect relationship.
When it broke I was shaken out of my dazed happinies and welcomed back to harsh reality.
You broke me, every piece of me. I shattered like glass and tears wouldn't even come out of my eyes. I was a storm with no rain, no purpose anymore.
You built me up and broke me down. You pushed me down before I even had the chance to fight back.
I still wonder what we could have had.
I still miss your sweet melody of saying I love you.
I still miss what we had. And maybe that's because I know you can never forget your first love, and how I live by this saying.
You are wrapped deep in my heart and I still feel every moment we had together.
Those words we can't take back, those songs that can't be unsung, the kisses forever on my lips, all are stuck with me.
I bet you forget all about everything.
I guess that's how first love is, but I still wonder what we could have had, if we kept us together.
Say no to drugs, and boys.
70 times I look at my face in the mirror
I smile at myself to make myself feel better
then feel stupid and turn away
not wanting to be one of those girls who practices looking pretty in the mirror.
When I want to cry
I laugh and pretend I’m in a movie
I imagine the cellos swelling up in an uplifting tune
and sun shining like reflective plastic through a window
glittering on the black circles under my eyes.
In a movie I don't need all that concealer Read more »
This afternoon, I decided to have a love affair with watercolors.
They’re perfectly transparent
and they wash each other
This afternoon, I weathered the dust and must of the basement storage room and took up a set of old, forgotten paints.
Dilute, runny mediums Read more »
Swish, gurgle, splash!
These endless drops of water,
down, to who knows where?
A never ending pattern,
as the vapor goes up to the clouds,
who glide back to the top of the mountain,
and cry these little tear drops back into,
this little town's brook.
These individual raindrops,
falling down to the stream,
like we, as humans,
eventually fall down to our deaths.
We are not different,
than these little drops of water.
and when we land;
The end of the drop's fall,
like the end of our life
we merge with the unknown,
we are suddenly part of a whole,
or a brook.
is a drop a drop if it's in a brook?
The grey clouds,
move slowly above me.
casting vague shadows,
like little devils dancing neath the trees,
dancing to the dry sound of leaves,
that crackles underneath my two swift feet.
This forest is,
but a meadow,
of tall wooden grass,
too coarse for the bear feet of giants,
yet too small for the eye of the universe to see from afar.
But I'd like to go back,
To this Stannard Brook,
And be thankful to the clouds,
and every single little drops of water,
that make it,
This piece is dedicated to those who were affected by the bombing at the Boston Marathon. I had to write to get this off my chest.
The cobblestone streets that are worn by the winds of violence
Combing the history books for an epicenter that would suffice,
to send shockwaves across the world.
So it chooses, the old city of Boston.
Laden with the difficult history of entertaining,
the beginnings of the American Revolution.
When tea was tossed in revolt,
and civilians massacred in the streets.
It chose the old city of Boston.
And finally, after 2 hours of pain to reach the finish line,
like the ancient Greeks once attempted, and did well.
The athletes endure agony to reach the finish line,
and when they got there, all they found was hell,
In the eyes of every man and woman.
Boy and girl.
As the phone lines die down for the night.
And the lights flicker out. Read more »
Know what to do
Because nothing ever changes
No matter the tragedies all over the world
To my very core
Knowing these people have died
And for what? What is it that has caused this?
Could possibly be worth this?
A parent who doesn’t have a child to cheer on,
A student waiting for a friend that will never finish the race Read more »
I spent today falling
-down the stairs
-over my feet
the state of mind in which
I grow to miss
the way things used to be.
I’ve found myself
for old connections - bridges
that have long since
burned themselves out - and
my heart can’t seem to understand
there are so many gaps
that can’t be crossed.
There is a family of people
out there, not held together Read more »
A small figure ran through the dark maze. She was lost, yet on the right trail. Shadows snagged at her, dragging her down.
She didn't scream as the cold snaked up her legs. Who would hear? She was alone, in the dark. Smothered by an unseeable force. Unseen, but named. Terror. She rounded a bend and a voice called out; called out from a faraway land.
"Ash!" Her eyes widened, but she continued running. She couldn't ever slow.
"Help me," She whispered pitifully.
She rounded another bend and stopped at a dead end. Stopped to a knife in her back. She crumpled, pain rippling through her body, moans escaping her lips. A scream tore through the quiet night. A slender frame was crushed in a warm embrace, steadying the shaking.
"Ash, it was another dream. You're ok now."
"Always... So... Terrible. Why are they always... about death?"
"I think you dream for all of us. You hold our memories. Us, the other lost souls. We forgot. We let our memories float away, and you caught them." Ash drew in on herself, hugging Eric tightly.
"It was do dark. So dark and so cold..." She clutched his shirt in her fists, as if to hold off the darkness. Read more »
Pain in shadows, moonlit tears,
Sings of sorrow, but no one hears.
Cold and broken, where it 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’ve decided that a family farm is a lot like a barbed wire fence; running smooth for a little while, and then running into a twist or barb that slows things down. My last year and a half has been spent working on my grandparents’ farm. Each day has been a new adventure, and I often catch myself looking back and saying, “remember the day…”
I like summer on the farm the most; the weather has warmed so the barn can be left open and I can hear the jingling of chains as the cows turn their heads to look when I come in. Summer on the farm means haying, fencing, cleaning up the winter’s mess, and letting the cows outside to stretch their long legs. Kittens and calves