April 25, 2011

Speaking of Sex - a bit of a story I was writing.

We just slept after that. Nothing happened, and I am pretty happy nothing happened, because, honestly, I was not ready. Then again how do you know when you are “ready?” Does your vagina wake up one day and then suddenly it tells you that it is “ready?” Or do you just know? Or do people mean that they are so horny that they finally just want to fucking get it over with?
Maybe it’s something simpler. Like one day you look at the guy you're with and just know that he will take of you and won’t be a mistake. Then again that is not very simple. Quite complicated actually.

April 09, 2011

Panic! At The Disco's "Vices and Virtues"

I used to be an incredibly large Panic! At The Disco fan. Completely devoted to the words they sung, but this album just killed it for me. I am not going to say it's horrible, because it has good moments. But I can't listen to it all the way through. I skip along and/or just hate myself for not enjoying it. It really does have moments. Like the beginning of "The Ballad of Mona Lisa," which has such a great beat that it gives me hope, but as the song goes on that hope disappears. It's those "woah"s that help it disappear. It reminds me of thousands of other pop rock songs. It irks me to not like it, because I want to like it. I want to love it. Scream with utter fucking joy at it's brilliance, but I can't do that. Like I said before, it does have many great moments. The song "Sarah Smiles" kind of sorta reminds me of "Pretty. Odd." , but it still can't not beat a single song from that CD. "Vice and Virtues" breaks my heart.

Standing

There

Alone

In a

Lonely

Alley way

Thinking about

You

Thinking about

Life

Here it comes

Here

It

Goes

A moment of clarity

March 24, 2011

The Woman Who Saw Everything As It Was

The young woman was always gloomy

“But it’s okay”

Her therapist would say

“Everyone has bad weeks”

But she had bad months

No, she had a bad life

But things were okay in the end

She had books to help her hide

She had friends that pretended to care

She had that one hat with the feather

And an amazing sense of realism

That she knew not everyone had

Yet there was still something missing

Some piece to her that was just empty

About The Girl Who Never Wanted To Grow Up

I don’t want to grow up

I want to stay little forever

Stay a kid ‘till the end of time

Forget the future

Forget college


It’s all about the now

Ir’s all about the past

All about barbies

Unicorns and kittens


Leave me in my room

For the rest of my life

Never allow me to depart

I would not make a fus

I am great at being invisible


Now leave me be

Let my head take trips to the past

Imagine those days as a kid

Where everything was nice

Where everyone was innocent


Don’t let me go outside

Don’t let me see the truth

The loss of innocence

The hatred in their eyes

Just leave me here


Forever


About The Girl Who Had To Grow Up


So it’s time, you say

To finally become a big kid

To finally leave and be free

But what if I still don’t want to be free?

What if I want to stay here?

If the outside world brings me nightmares

What if I know I would be safer here?


About The Woman The Girl Became


I never leave the house

I sit here with my collections


I dream of the past

I dream of childhood


I never gave in to love

It was too grown up for me

But at least my cats love me


Gingerspip and Buttercup

Hello Kity and Hearty

They are my best friends


The only ones that understand

I wish I could understand them

I wish I could have changed something


But I

But I never gave in to the future

March 13, 2011

Dictionary

The grown man never cries

Instead he quaintly whimpers

Until he is cockeyed

But at least he is a healthy fellow

Starting a revolution in his own body

Coquetting the night away

In his medieval style

His life is like an episode

Of consequence that is considerable

Always on the breach of something

That is not about redemption

But like his brother in law always says

“Review the reverie! Review the reverie!”

Instead he forgets it, and keeps on living

Study Break Sonnet

A simple message from you drives me mad

Since I don’t know how to talk to you

But I want to talk

I want to know everything about you

I want to become a cliché with you

Hold hands in the park

Watch movies and have dinner

Have a perfect romance

A movie romance

Something that may never happen

I want to know you intimately

I want to know you personally

I want to believe that can we be something

But first I must learn how to speak

During Shakespeare Sonnet

Wishing I could get a cookie

Just because my head is light

Sleep is taunting me again

Though I had hours of it

I don’t understand my head

Why does it not leave me be?

I want to rest, and be rested

But no, I’m screwed to be tired

And sleeping on BART is not a choice

It is a fear that leaves me goose bumps

But this tired is taking over

It is making me no sense

If only I could sleep some more

But no time, no time at all

March 07, 2011

About the sonnets

Well for my Poetry Class I have to write a poem everyday, but I don't have enough time to do that. So I got a bit carried away, and wrote 4 write now.

Lifted Or The Sonnet Is In The Soil Keep Your Ear To The Ground is kind of a found poem, because I took lines from almost every song from Lifted Or The Story Is In The Soil Keep Your Ear To The Ground by Bright Eyes. Of course I added things my self, and made it make a tad of sense.

Dejala was created by putting my itunes on shuffle and putting titles of songs into a poem.

123 is also like a found poem, because half the lines were derived from lines from 7 different books, while the other half were from my head.

234 is a collage poem that came out of this poem that I wrote, but did not like:

When the sun dances high

Burning my fucking eye

Block the rays with my arms

But failure brings me harm

Block the rays with some shades

But only little does it fade

So I give up, and keep strutting along

Thinking about some random song

Wondering how horrible this day will go

Because this poem does not even know

How horrible of days I’ve had before

How my life is such a big bore

But it’s okay in the end

Totally godsend

Because things have to get better

Maybe I’ll find a nice sweater

Right, life just has to get swell

But for now all I know is farewell


Yep, that's where those came from.

234

When the sun dances high

Totally godsend

Burning my fucking eye

But it’s okay in the end

Block the rays with my arms

How my life is such a big bore

But failure brings me harm

How horrible of days I’ve had before

Block the rays with some shades

Because this poem does not even know

But only little does it fade

Wondering how horrible this day will go

Thinking about some random song

I give up, and keep strutting along

123

The old woman was a cunning dame

And a Storyteller of sorts

Until the day it returns, continuing

Speaking a never ending story

That Raymond was only half listening to

Because he never listens to the world

“It’s a shame, a shame”

Her ex-lover would say

But decisively in just that way

He would show off vintage photos

“She doesn’t look like a beast there”

She doesn’t look like a beast here

Nethertheless, there is always something horrifying

About the past, that still waits

Dejala

Don’t Fall Apart On Me Tonight

You are the Nicest Thing I know

And I don’t want to say Bye and Bye

So I hide myself in a Cocoon of lies

Pretending to be an Actor Out Of Work

But your Desire to leave never withdrawals

But I pretend I have a Heart Of A Lion

Creating a stronger Version of myself

But I Should Have Known Better

It’s Cool, We Can Still Be Friends

Forget the Cigarettes Wedding Bands

Making this sonnet About A Girl

Who keeps me on of the edge of Survival

That one girl I met at The Market

Lifted Or The Sonnet Is In The Soil Keep Your Ear To The Ground

Well the future got me thinking such awful thoughts

Animals laughing from the dark of the wilderness

Missing the frowns you never used to give

Please return, return to the person that you were

You wrote such pretty words that

Washed away the rumors and left the concrete truth

I know that I completed you

But men with purple hearts carry silver guns

You used to cut my nightmares out of paper

Created a book that sunk into the sand

Now you don’t even bother

To give a therapeutic smile

Please return, return to what you were

February 22, 2011

Sleeping Pills

And that is why I am tired

Because I don’t get enough sleep at night

Because I think way too much about things that don’t matter

Because there is so many other interesting things to do

Like read, write, fall in love, and maybe even break a heart

Because sleep is generally a waste of time

Because sleeping pills no longer work for me

Because that one show no longer airs in the day

Though it ruled the 90s and my childhood

Because the man on the moon is much happier than man on the sun

Because I drink far too much coffee just to keep me awake in class

Because at night the freaks come out

And the freaks are much more enjoyable than the squares

Because there is people out there dying for nothing

Because my pet rooster tends to forget what time the day begins

Because my mind twists and turns like rollercoasters

And I am deadly afraid of rollercoasters

Because it’s always daytime somewhere

Because there is something wrong with me

Because Sleep no longer desires my company

Although it lusts after me in the day time

Because there is people out there living for nothing

Because sleep seems far too similar to the end

Because I am full of contradictions

That never seem to leave me be

February 19, 2011

About "I Need A Mute Button."

Well I was supposed to write about a memory as though it was happening to me now. So I wrote about a memory of me being embarrassed and feeling like an idiot.

I Need A Mute Button

I should stop talking

Become a mute

Just sit here

Doodling

Cats and Dogs

Watching the Squirrels pass

Catching him in the corner

Of my eye


I should stop talking

Stick to writing

Just look at the pages

Laugh at his comments

Laugh at her comments

Laugh, laugh, and laugh

Become a perfect example

Of what all idiots should do

And never speak another word


I should stop talking

February 13, 2011

Poem of my week:

from If Not, Winter, Sappho translated by Anne Carson

I don't know what this is.

I am a cynic

But I need someone

Something

I am depressed

But I need happiness

Smiles

I am a mess

But I need order

February 12, 2011

+

Oh, apparently my poetry teacher really likes my poems, because she wants me to submit ALL OF THEM to the college's magazine. She also told me to wait 'till the last minute to turn them in, because the class is on Monday (which coincidentally is also the last day to submit things). I hate turning things in on the last minute. I like turning things in on the last FEW minutes.

About 4 Balloons

I pretty much had to go for a walk, and then write a poem about it.