Saturday, April 30, 2011

April 2011 Poetry - Week 4

Warning: you might not want to read the first one. It has profanity and certain things that you probably don't want to see. So please, do not feel inclined to read it by any means. 

Extended Warning: Well, pretty much all the poems in this post are shady. I pretty much threw out censorship this week and wrote exactly what I was feeling and what came to mind. So, read with caution.

Of Two And Parallel - April 25th 

By my hand. By my own fucking hand.
Be calm, it will pass. Keep breathing, it will pass.
I know I'm capable of it. The possibility.
My love is too great. My love is too great.
Nobody is watching me.
They have me reassured.
But if it were to happen,
by accident, by chance,
how much greater their love would be.
And how selfish that would make me.
The hell it would! I have the right.
I hold nothing that's out of God's sight.

 My god, I'm thirsty.
Water. I need water.
Where the hell is the water?
Find a pen, right it down. Find a pen, get it out.
Can't have anything else. Not skinny enough.
Don't think, just write. Write it down. Get it out.


How are you?

 I'm too close.
I'm alright.
And I smile like a fucking retard.
I'm just tired.
I can't stop staring; I'm in love.
Why do you have to put me here?
I can't get the damn words off my tongue.
I'm not listening anymore. Not listening.
There's so much to say,
but I can't. I can't.
If you knew, I'd lose you.
If you knew, you'd see that I'm a mess.
And you're the only thing keeping me alive.
I couldn't stand to lose someone else.
I don't want to be here anymore.
That's what he said, and I was there,
but no one would be there for me.
It's a lie. That's a lie. And you know the truth.
I'm never the one that's wanted.
I'm never good enough.
I'll never be enough.
I'm not who I should be.
And those words won't be enough,
his words are meant for someone else.
Those weren't weren't meant for me.
That's okay, that's okay.
I have nothing left to live for.
I can't put my trust in people.
But it's all my fault. I did this.
I'm the one who went too far.
I've found a cut, now I see blood,
it spills onto my hands. This was me.
But god, I'm a saint. I swear I'm a saint.
My Lord, I'm a sinner.
Help me.
Help me.


Shadows - April 26th
I had a word with my eye today,
and him and I were wondering
how you define a shadow?
You know, just like the clouds
that hang in the sky, dangle there,
and throw back from their bellies
streaks of darkness across our land.
We were just wondering, that is all.


Graduation - April 27th
They call today the best of our lives.
But some with empty stomachs, others now full,
and friendship dissolved into money,
what the hell are they talking about?

Those bonds are slowly, slowly loosening.
This is what we are becoming: hollow.
There is emptiness eating us from the inside out,
like an internal black hole.

And you, my friend, truly
are the salt of the earth. Now I mean that.
Here’s to you, and you, and you,
I raise my glass to your overwhelming accomplishments.
Good job, great job,
and I guess you’ll be moving on to better things now.

Oh God, I do hope so,
because this just isn’t fair.
This year has killed us all.


Untitled - April 27th
You have seen me here before,
But one objection might I say:
I may see you as something more
If we continue like this every day.


Allies - April 27th
We overcome, we fight, we fare
well in the face of thought.
Think on this, clever one:
This battle should not be fought.
You would not win, that’s not enough—
complexity; infinity—
but we can define it along the way
and teach a little immortality.
It’s tricky business, I believe
and that makes perfect sense.
Like my soul, and I’ll agree
we’re all foes and fighters, hence

The am’s and are’s and atmosphere
of love not loved and peace not near.
The rage and rustle of followers—
words shot at you; you borrow hers.
You both need work to walk the way
towards wrong and right and what to say.


Allowed to Write – April 29th
I’ve got two minutes to write this down,
and what to say with that?
With all this stillness of my thoughts,
There’s much to take a look at.

I know you haven’t got the time
For me to ramble on, and on,
But I have this moment, this for me,
For soon I shall be gone.

I hope you know the things you told
me would happen—they did.
My own mind can’t fix upon
thoughts it must forbid.

For there are many, there are some
that hide within the sighs,
but those you hear, they can’t escape
without words you recognize.

Not words, really, but mumblings
of a heart hurt and sorrowful,
but with your kindness and gentle hand,
This aching might be temporal.

I wasn’t allowed to write last night
Because my friend said I must think.
So true, but stubborn must I be;
my thoughts and actions aren’t in sync.

But I promise, I promise I’ll improve
and face my future once again.
I’ll find a way to face the day
and be content in my own skin.

I fear I’ve been here far too long.
Now, I must depart.
I’m glad you shared this moment with me
and my not-quite work of art.


Horizon – April 29th
Where we grew when we knew not,
like friendship sold and family bought,
has stemmed from six and the neighborly.
Now, this was not done properly—
though if I fail, oh if one dies—
the inner soul of the other cries.
But hey, we’ve got this, and we know
that being normal is just for show.
And here we stand in history,
who we’ll be is a mystery,
but things never seem to go as planned
when I try to sign with my own hand.
We will come back to this place,
and though we may have a new face,
we'll always be welcomed and shown love
by those still here and One above.


Silent Ones - April 30th
I'm not fighting to be real,
or cool, or in his eyes.
I'm saying that I worked today
and discovered a surprise.

And there I am, just about
where you think you are.
We may seem close, side by side,
but our paths are pretty far.

He says these things, he thinks out loud,
for those who know their ears.
And if they remain the silent ones,
they amount to his worst fears.

If one more person calls me great,
I might just spit on them,
because instead they need to look
at those voices they condemn.

But this, a contest of fortunate
beings and cash and cost,
and she, my friend, will not be there;
in the end, she will be lost.

I know that's torturous and difficult
and you cannot bear the thought;
for weeks or months it sinks on you
and forsakes all that you've fought

to be the worst time of your life
for that future is left on hope,
and really, what good can come from faith
when dangling from a tightrope?

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Feeling Foggy

These are from a few days ago, sometime over the weekend. I was going to post them yesterday, but I just got so excited about my rain pictures. Anyway, I live on the top of a hill, and so it gets pretty foggy sometimes. I kind of love it.

I find it really hard to capture it the way I want, though. But I think they came out pretty good.

Monday, April 25, 2011

April Showers Photo Hunt

I have, for years, wanted to take a pictures of drops of water dangling off of a flower or leaf. Today, I only had to go to school for a half day. It was pouring down rain (which I hate to drive in!) but I made it home fine and everything. I got into the driveway, turned off the car and was jamming to Misery Business by Paramore while the rain patted on my windshield. Then, I really liked the way the drops looked on the windshield, so I ran into the house.

I found Romeo.
 Then I grabbed Wal-Mart bag, just in case I decided to get a little daring, wrapped up my camera and poked a hole for the lens, and went on a photo hunt.

First stop: Windshield.

Next, waterlogged plants along our sidewalk: 

Please note: I love the lighting in this picture.

Then, I stopped for some close ups of really bright, pink flowers that I preferred to turn purple:

And then, wearing shorts and flip-flops, freezing and soaking, I was able to get the picture that I've always wanted to take:

And you guys, it was all worth it.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

He Is Risen

We cannot separate. You are part of me.
And though you're invisible, I'll trust the unseen.
I cried out with no reply, and
I can't feel you by my side, so
I'll hold tight to what I know:
You're here, and I'm never alone.

Happy Easter, everyone.
And remember that we are alive because Jesus died. Now, if we believe him, the Holy Spirit comes and lives within us. Have you ever really thought about how marvelous that is? Now, if we sin, it has been paid for and forgiven. We are free.

And when we die, we will  live with our God in heaven.

If you do not know Jesus, you need to. You can talk to me, message me, flag me down in the streets, and we'll talk about it. If you don't believe, I'd still like to talk to you about it, to hear your thoughts. I will not force you to become a Christian, because that isn't possible. It's is a choice that everyone must make for themselves. If I could save all the ones I love from sin, I would have one that a long time ago. It's between you and God.

He died for you, though. He died for you.
And today, He Is Risen!

May God's peace and love be with you always,

Saturday, April 23, 2011

April 2011 Poetry - Week 3

Those That Think - April 19th
I used a word today because
that was exactly what I meant.
And too soon, too often
do we think and not speak.
We say the same things, repeat--repeat;
And say the same things; say the same.
Oh, it humorous. That's the honey.
But now take this--[corrective.]
Teaching textbooks in size twelve;
Problems hidden under drops of ink.
How does that work? It's an Easter egg hunt.
And we need a translator to decipher it.
Like hieroglyphics--and we are blind.
We need other people to hand us our minds.
If we lose or hearing, oh God, we need help.
That's not how things happen.
Do I exaggerate? it's just a word.
One little word, may it harm the world?
That's the point--it harms, then helps,
and happens to the heart of those that think.


Struggling - April 20th
Exhausting all our resources
and trying to stay on track,
Trembling over fault lines,
we fail to make a comeback.


And Dead. - April 22nd
I'm faced with tortured reality;
Broken hearts, and now I see
your tragic flaw: mortality.

And when you're dead, you can't be seen;
An ambulance, a pulse--routine;
and you--my friend--just seventeen.

Sorrows posted via internet--
RIPs and I'll never forget;
Fading in your silhouette.

But dead. You're dead. Such a thought
that goes beyond what we've been taught
and surpasses our records of most distraught.

One last date; all dressed well
and crying, walking; we fight like hell
to work ourselves up to that final farewell.

But when our mouths open, we choke; we fail
to say goodbye. Instead, exhale.
And try to move no avail.

Now, we fight for every detail.


Maturity - April 23rd
This, I cannot understand. And might you?
I promise I'll lend you my ear, for just the time.
Of course, it might not suit you, if you're used
to feeling old, or near, or ugly, or gold,
or two times smaller than those bought, then sold.
I'd hate to do this to you, darling; love;
and you might travel this way, all the way out,
and yawn, droopy-eyed, but insist
that it's no trouble. It's on the way.
My point is, I had one goal: colors. I wanted them.
But the spazzing, the unidentified, made it go
differently. You'll see smokes and cigarettes
and ducks on your way through the door.
The scene may change and you fall subject to music.
Blasting through your eardrums, and what is wrong?
You wouldn't tell me, and that's all very good,
but it still lingers between us both. A flood.
Water might cool the smoke, the steam,
but drown both of us in the meantime;
in the springtime.
And show me the leash; the collar; the shock
of electricity that keeps me in. Holds me in.
And I bite.
Oh, god, my ear is gone. Have you found?
And walking, walking, down the detour.

Monday, April 18, 2011

a letter to the boy that ages.

To my best friend,

Today is your birthday, and while you might have awoken this morning feeling like you do any other day, I'm here to say that it's not. Because today is in celebration of you, and you deserve that more than any other person I know. And while you might not think you're important to anyone else, or that nobody else cares about you at all, today I'm stressing to you that all of that is false. You mean something more to me than I could put into words, friend.

I was going to compare our friendships to that seen in movies, because it was the only thing that I could think of, but then I realized that it's not like that at all. Not only because it's real, but because it's just so genuine. You are you, and I am me, and we don't compromise ourselves for each other or try to hide anything. And yes, we may be odd, but we're us, and there doesn't have to be any comparison of our friendship to others, because I doubt there has ever been any two people quite like us.

And I never want you to leave. I never want to get to the point to where we get tired of each other, not that I think we'll ever get to that point because each day is so new and I think we've come to the point to where we rely on each other. Because I know that my day starts off the right way when you text me good morning, and ends on a good note with our late night talks. I can go into a conversation feeling absolutely horrible but by the time we say our farewells, everything feels so right again. I'm not sure how you do it, but I never want this to end.

A true friend is one that will leave an orange soda waiting for you outside of your car whenever you get off of work. =)

I know this is kind of everywhere because I'm writing this for me just as much as I am for you, trying to get everything down. And I know you see today as just one birthday, one day that comes around every year, but I don't. Because I've only really known you for ten months, but I feel like I've known you my whole life. You are my family just as much as my relatives are. And I'm not sure how all of this happened or developed, but I'm sure glad that we are where we are because otherwise, I'm not quite sure who or where I would be.

When I turned 17, I didn't know it was going to be the hardest year of my life. I didn't know that the weird boy named Deacon would become my friend. But you did, and you were there for me at every single point of the past year. Whenever I needed you, you came. And I hope I can be there for you like that in the next year.

People love you, sir. Truly.
And I hate that moments go by that you don't feel that.

September 2010

March 2011

Hey, make this year great.  

Friday, April 15, 2011

April 2011 Poetry - Week 2

I was unable to write as much poetry this week as I would have liked to, but I hope you still enjoy what's there.

Inventing One - April 13th
Good side; dark; historically
in a battle. And I've never met
a medium--a comfortable compromise.
The world is conflicted; likewise, we.
I hear a universal "Yes!"
ringing through the hills,
but those I thought would speak
loudest have fallen silent.
Let it be--silently. Silently.
Then small voices say, "World,
this is what I think."
And then criticized, ignorant child,
and struck down.
Because they know; are friends
with purity before the world.
Now, they see the cruelty
and their innocence dies.


God in Mind - April 14th
You need to have your God in mind
and know where you stand; know the kind
of life to live and what to give,
and plainly see what is there to find.


Perfect Sacrifice - April 14th
There runs a river, a river of blood
down in the valley--a crimson red flood.
The grief of sinners poured out like rain
by sacrifice of the lamb that was slain.
He walked by moonlight, saw the red
that ran through the river; sins had been shed.
Took his best friends, said, "Pray for me."
And alone, went forward, fell to his knees.
He cried to his Father, "Take this hour!"
Help Him through this--give Him the power.
Still sweating blood, like the dead sheep,
he walked back to his friends--found them asleep.
At that time he knew he was betrayed;
The Son for silver--oh, a fair trade.
They came with torches, clubs, and swords
and asked who he was. He replied, "The LORD."
Betrayed by a kiss; "Teacher;" "Friend;"
Then one jumped up, ready to defend.
"Put your sword away," He said in command,
and touched the guard with a healing hand.
They bound him after the fighting had ceased,
and led him to be questioned before the high priest.
During that time, Peter denied
three times he knew Jesus--afterwards, cried.
For straight through the crowd, their eyes had locked,
then the rooster crowed and Peter was shocked.
Then they took Him, they mocked, and sentenced to die;
to hang on a cross; they shouted, "Cruicify!"
They casted lots for his clothing, nailed to the cross,
and left him to die, for they knew not the loss.
But he knew the whole time what he had to fulfill,
and he died on that cross by his free will,
for he could have gotten down and walked away.
So why is it that he died that day?
For you, for me, to save us from sin,
so that when we die, we will live again.
Jesus conquered death; his life, he gave,
and three days later, he rose from the grave.
He lived once again, and then rose above,
and now forgives us our sins with mercy and love.

Boxes and Words - April 15th
There are words in my heart
that you may find
if you know how to get there;
if you know just the kind.

If you now how to travel
through arteries and veins
and fight through the fragments
of past growing pains.

Hitch a ride on the river--
a river of blood
an become thicker than water,
thicker than mud.

If you climb to the organ,
and unpocket your key
turn the lock twice,
you'll open to see

an abyss of commas;
lost words that were hidden
in the cracks and the corners;
confessions forbidden.

You'll see the "I love you's,"
of course--typical.
and emotion rings out,
almost musical.

And then the "I miss you's"
will emerge after that
and fill the stale air
with reluctant combat.

Then low at the bottom
kept in a box,
you'll see just one more,
heavy with locks.

And you have each key,
Because you know me
more than the first
and everybody.

You know the password
and you know the way
for I have revealed it
to you everyday.

But instead of unlocking,
you opened no doors;
You put the box in your heart--
right next to yours.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

My mind is a mess.

There was never a time when I would have traded you with anyone else. I feel blessed every day knowing that you are real, present in every corner of my life, helping me stay sane and live my life. And when you extend a hand to comfort me, because you know how much that means to me, I know I would never want to be anywhere else than you and I right here and now.

You're loved, you're needed. And by some grace of God you appeared in my life and I don't think I've come into contact with anything as good, not just because you are my best friend but because you're so much more, a magnificent human being that I get the pleasure to know, really know, and what more life do I have to experience now? How does anything get better than this?


And I am fooled by your kindness because I'm so accustomed to it being a mask. I'm also skeptical about your openness, you're rash decisions to make contact with me after so long. It happens, I know, from time to time, and every time I end up confused.

Because you were all I had to live for, you were the one that I had found, and loved, an planned forever with. I was finished. And then somehow, all that ended, and I never grew up after that. I remained stuck in that state of mind, hoping for you to return, and then you stopped talking to me altogether. And maybe I was in over my head from the start, but you don't get that infatuated with someone and come up without struggle. The weight holds you under, until you either drown or wish you had.


I'm sorry, I wish I felt the same way, because you're a really great person and there is nothing wrong and I don't know what my freaking problem is because I've tried and tried and I've went through my mind trying to sort everything out but there really isn't any explanation as to why I don't feel the same way except for the fact that I'm a loser and I am obviously programmed to not like someone who likes me until they decide they don't like me anymore. That's what history says, anyway. And I wish I did, believe me I do, because that would save me heart ache and loss and lies and pain and regret and jealousy and all those other things that I experience short-term and long-term based on my current situations and/or situations of past and/or to come.

With you, it would be easy. And I would love for that to be the case. But something is severely wrong with me and I just don't think of you that way.


I appreciate everything you do for me, even though I make jokes and say stupid things behind your back and act like your compassion is the worst thing I could ever receive in the entire world. They call me a saint. A saint. And you want to know the truth? I'm a glorious sinner. And I say things about you, and everyone, and everything, that I shouldn't and that I regret or that I should regret and don't.

But you are, and remain, my friend. Though I don't seem to put as much effort into it as you do. Because you are always, always there for me no matter what time or place it is, and I really, honestly love you for that.


Stop leading me on.


They all like you more than me, and I guess in a way I can see why, because you possess something about you that I know I lack. And I am jealous. I don't want to be, but you have them. Them. And that's where I always wanted to be, or have been before, but now? I'm not sure of anything anymore, except for the fact that you are preferable.

And I'm just a loser because I write crap like this about people I love and hate and I can't seem to get my life or anything in order. I'm just a mess.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Missouri Weather

Missouri weather has been crazy lately, but Spring finally seems to be here. Here's a picture of some tulips that just popped up in my front yard.

This, in contrast with a frosty morning a few weeks ago. I took this picture while rushing out the door to get to school on March 27th:

Friday, April 8, 2011

April 2011 Poetry - Week 1

I've really focused this week on trying to write a little bit of poetry every day whenever I can get the chance, in honor of National Poetry Month. So this is what I've got from week one. Please note that there has been a post prior to this of a poem written the first two days of the month. Enjoy.

A Surrender - April 3rd
Twenty-four hours ago,
my fingers couldn't let you go.
And now I sit, empty hands;
lingering still of different time spans.

I was always waiting for that time,
when you could see my sorrow climb,
and forfeit words, instead, extend
a surrender in behalf of a friend.


I Was Eleven - April 6th
The hourglass has proved me
wrong; yet again, I say--
And there are whispers of means,
of the average, and art--
a contribution to the scholarly
and projections into the expected.
The expected? So it's said
that one can determine the has not,
the progression of the happening,
and place their soul among it.
That the earth, the soil, exists
but as you walk, it is not there,
for perception of one may be skewed
in the definition of structural present.
Who is the one that plans ahead?--
counts the grains of sand, and
knows the confines within the hourglass
and when it runs out, multiples--
and makes accommodations for the unlimited.
But I was never one of them;
could never rely on calculation.
I know the art of coming back
and the soil's irritation,
but I will never reach the future.


When I Fall – April 7th
Running late, that’s nothing new,
But as I climbed the stairs,
While rushing, rushing to the top,
I fell and landed there.

Laugh might you, but to me,
I was deeply caught off guard.
A moment stopped; I looked to God,
Who I had learned to disregard.

Slow down, He said while I sat still,
And I to Him, “Too much.
If I run, I fall, but I cannot sit
and try to keep in touch.”

We both sighed and apologized,
And Him to me, Remember
That if your cause is for Me,
 I shall be your Defender.

My God, my Savior, on my side,
Though I fell distracted.
For Him, I was there, but somehow I
Took my faith and had subtracted.

So I readied myself, inhaled, set,
While arising from the floor.
Focused, holding hands with God,
And we continued towards the door.


Requests - April 8th
I don't want to be outside these walls
or be one out of four.
I never want to watch them wait
for false hope anymore.

[Compromising necessities,
and how we should belong,]
You refuse to turn your back,
but you, my friend, are wrong.

Little monsters and a prince,
and what distinguishes them?
You'll think you know, it may seem so,
but that light is appropriately dim.

And I never wanted to see the day
that of this, you put on me
the regret of the unfortunate,
and raging apathy.

Phenomenal in likeness,
but you can't seem to know
how much of this effects me,
and how it hurts me so.

As you leave, I notice you,
but you don't notice me.
You walk away, and then I see,
You're not all you could be.

And I don't want to be that way,
And if you are, I swear
that things won't stay the way they are
and I won't even care.

You have to learn to take a stand
against opposing lines.
Face the hurt, what you might lose,
but what pain is yours is mine.

I want to be the one for you--
built with you in mind.
Not lovers, no; comforters;
a face that you can find.
Instead of one that spits out lies,
You know, I know, and she
does not care it hurts your heart
because she holds the key.
I want to catch you before the fall,
and keep you by the hand.
Before you go, I'll let you know,
I have but one command:

If I see you now, and then,
let yourself be the same.
Go forward in time, but yet untouched;
as constant as your name.

I want to see happiness
and a life you love to live.
I want for you to take from me
all that I can give.

And I forgive, I forgive--
I hope you can me, too.
For I find peace and love and heart
in none else but of you. 

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Acceptable Anger

You can be angry, that's all right.
I am granting you permission,
although I don't hold that authority.
But if it makes you feel like more
of a stronghold, if it's what you need,
then I want you to know that it's okay.

And if you really knew me, you'd know
that I love that music. It moves my soul.
I think you might, for I know you,
at least, I believe I do.
I am a part of your world, I know.
When you assure me, it brings tears.
Because never have I had something like this,
Never have things been so beautiful
not perfect, not easy, but lovely.
Worth it. Yeah, it's all worth it.

That's where we are,
and though I'm not, it's okay
for you to be angry.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

"Why'd you come?--Intuition."

As you may or may not be aware, April is National Poetry Month. Which is super exciting if you're someone like me. =)

I'm planning on celebrating this month by reading a combined amount of poetry from my books of Emily Dickinson, Sylvia Plath, Robert Frost, Edgar Allan Poe, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Among others.

Also, my goal is to write some kind of poetry every day. The first two days I worked on the following:

But since that lie exists today,
and jealousy is fair,
I'll do as I want, for otherwise,
the truth is much to bear.


The truth? Okay,
let's go from there.
Listen well, and
try to care.
I'm breaking rules now,

Lean a bit closer--if you dare.

I'm moving now
fairly quick,
and this motion often
makes me sick.
Then, I hit
a wall of brick.

The clock--ticks.

Crack a joke, sure,
take a hit.
Do whatever
you see fit.
Though now my soul
is dimly lit.

I'm scared--a little bit.

Slowly, softly,
by my hand.
Touch you--once,
I understand.
Hair through fingers
like fists of sand.

Late night comfort--different land.

All I wanted--
Seeking me on
your own volition;
Without words like
"One condition."

Why'd you come?--Intuition.

Running barefoot;
yawning night.
And my eyes see,
with great delight,
you, not far, in my
line of sight.

You are here--I'll be alright.

Because you and I?
We are quite
Two souls the other
could recite.
And we are here;
we, despite
our utmost knowledge
of black and white.
We defend the other;
we pray, we fight,
so that in the early
morning light
we see each other
shining bright.

Our souls--ignite.