let me tell you a secret; poetry.
i figured that as it's a icy/rainy day and i'm in a poetry sort of mood anyway, that i would post all my 2008 poetry. it's mostly untitled and all really shitty, having been unedited for the most part, or edited very little. i just want it out there so i don't feel like it's clogging my hard drive. plus you guys may need a good laugh, hell i don't know.
i'm going to split them up into what i had on two separate .rtf files and the one with most of my poetry in a word document.
1.
you fall
fall
gracefully
or will the wind yet
carry you far
?
drop down spread your arms out
so as to not
break
make a cross
so on a crag or cliff you might
catch yourself
dont fall again.
catch yourself
red skin and veins.
let me take you in, while the schoolkids still curse your signs
i might yet love you,
worship your beauty.
2.
pretty little legs,
hiding pretty little dregs,
pretty little dregs in those pretty little legs,
hiding useless things,
are you wearing your rings?
keep them useless, useless things,
don't keep your dreams,
throw away what-may-seem,
throw away your dreams,
keep those useless, useless things
in between pretty little legs
as dregs in the sea of legs
and useless, useless things.
3.
this is so
this is so boring.
to sit -- sit
in life
like mannequins
or ants on a polluted blueberry.
but probably the latter --
because we are nothing,
nothing
just icaruses waiting to die.
i.
Bare-footed girls
Dancing in skirts
In the grass.
Bare-footed boys
Playing games
In the street.
A girl stumbles and falls,
A boy breaks a window.
Mothers and fathers call them in,
And it rains.
ii.
Blind faces stare out from history textbook pages,
Beckoning sympathy,
Begging us to listen to their stories
Of woe and pride.
But they are so blind that they cannot see
Us making the same mistakes
And laughing.
iii.
Her eyes were screwed so tightly shut
That when she pulled the trigger a thousand times,
And opened her eyes,
She knew not whether the man standing in front of her
Was a redcoat or her victim.
iv.
We fly better
When it isn’t raining.
v.
The blue sun made you sit on eggshells
To earn your fortune.
Have you delicious foods?
No, only eggs.
vi.
The gods in the skies
Were cutting their hair.
Locks fell onto the darkly-colored clouds,
Down to the ground,
Locking the people in.
So that they couldn’t escape,
Couldn’t recognize their gods
And were lost.
vii.
Such a delicate flower
With so dark a bruise on
So delicate a wrist.
And they say it was from
Love.
viii.
The ink on her fingers
Bled through her skin,
And into her heart
So that it came out of her mouth
Into the ears of others,
And they said, “How beautiful.”
ix.
The girl saw the bird right before her
And cried,
Seeing that it had
The gift of flight,
Of beauty,
Of seeing all the world beneath its feet as if dust,
And knowing she would never know these things.
x.
Which is a better way to die:
The gallows or the guillotine?
Surely the gallows;
For when you die by the guillotine,
You stare at the low, low earth.
But when you die by the gallows,
You stare in the face of your accusers,
And show them your faith.
xi.
She sat in the grass;
And the grass,
And the weeds,
And the flowers
Grew so high, up her limbs and in her hair,
That one could no longer see her,
No longer knew she was there.
But she was,
She was part of the earth.
xii.
The gods created winds
To push the trees down,
Bowing.
The wind through the trees
Moaned in protest;
But never ceased,
For the gods were so
Powerful,
They demanded slaves.
xiii.
The children of poverty
Gathered around the golden light
Like sheep to the shepherd.
xiv.
Our eyes were open
To things they’d never seen
In these death camps,
These houses of horror.
xv.
Those graceful violet trees
With their limbs, their fingers like tendrils
Stretching, reaching all the way to the heavens
In prayer or disgrace at the gods.
xvi.
She imagined a foot
Stomping down in China
And sending a thousand waves every second,
Waves of air,
Embracing the globe in their strength.
xvii.
A giant’s child
In space
Came across a
Blueberry
Called Earth.
It was ripened by age,
Yet tasted sour,
So the child cringed and spat it out.
xviii.
God made man and said to him,
“Here thou art a book;
Here you may write of your
Revelations, loves, wisdom,
And pass it to future generations
For their consumption.”
Man raised his eyes and asked,
“But what of the imagination?
May I use that in my Book?”
God nodded, and said, “Yes, son,
You may; for past imagination
Brings light to future imagination.”
ixx.
He wrote a love note on the back of her hand
And she watched
As the ink spread through the grooves in her skin
Like needles poking out
And blurred,
The edges were fuzzy.
(“I never loved you and I never will.”)
"Peter"
You sit under the sun
And think about sweet eternity
Never to part for the gift
Of death.
But we all must meet
The moon.
you can tell a lot of those in the second block were written when i was questioning my faith. and x, xiii, and xiv are representative of my holocaust studies class (when i know they were all written). and xvi refers to the earthquake in china.
o, monday; and how was your day?
i'm going to split them up into what i had on two separate .rtf files and the one with most of my poetry in a word document.
1.
you fall
fall
gracefully
or will the wind yet
carry you far
?
drop down spread your arms out
so as to not
break
make a cross
so on a crag or cliff you might
catch yourself
dont fall again.
catch yourself
red skin and veins.
let me take you in, while the schoolkids still curse your signs
i might yet love you,
worship your beauty.
2.
pretty little legs,
hiding pretty little dregs,
pretty little dregs in those pretty little legs,
hiding useless things,
are you wearing your rings?
keep them useless, useless things,
don't keep your dreams,
throw away what-may-seem,
throw away your dreams,
keep those useless, useless things
in between pretty little legs
as dregs in the sea of legs
and useless, useless things.
3.
this is so
this is so boring.
to sit -- sit
in life
like mannequins
or ants on a polluted blueberry.
but probably the latter --
because we are nothing,
nothing
just icaruses waiting to die.
i.
Bare-footed girls
Dancing in skirts
In the grass.
Bare-footed boys
Playing games
In the street.
A girl stumbles and falls,
A boy breaks a window.
Mothers and fathers call them in,
And it rains.
ii.
Blind faces stare out from history textbook pages,
Beckoning sympathy,
Begging us to listen to their stories
Of woe and pride.
But they are so blind that they cannot see
Us making the same mistakes
And laughing.
iii.
Her eyes were screwed so tightly shut
That when she pulled the trigger a thousand times,
And opened her eyes,
She knew not whether the man standing in front of her
Was a redcoat or her victim.
iv.
We fly better
When it isn’t raining.
v.
The blue sun made you sit on eggshells
To earn your fortune.
Have you delicious foods?
No, only eggs.
vi.
The gods in the skies
Were cutting their hair.
Locks fell onto the darkly-colored clouds,
Down to the ground,
Locking the people in.
So that they couldn’t escape,
Couldn’t recognize their gods
And were lost.
vii.
Such a delicate flower
With so dark a bruise on
So delicate a wrist.
And they say it was from
Love.
viii.
The ink on her fingers
Bled through her skin,
And into her heart
So that it came out of her mouth
Into the ears of others,
And they said, “How beautiful.”
ix.
The girl saw the bird right before her
And cried,
Seeing that it had
The gift of flight,
Of beauty,
Of seeing all the world beneath its feet as if dust,
And knowing she would never know these things.
x.
Which is a better way to die:
The gallows or the guillotine?
Surely the gallows;
For when you die by the guillotine,
You stare at the low, low earth.
But when you die by the gallows,
You stare in the face of your accusers,
And show them your faith.
xi.
She sat in the grass;
And the grass,
And the weeds,
And the flowers
Grew so high, up her limbs and in her hair,
That one could no longer see her,
No longer knew she was there.
But she was,
She was part of the earth.
xii.
The gods created winds
To push the trees down,
Bowing.
The wind through the trees
Moaned in protest;
But never ceased,
For the gods were so
Powerful,
They demanded slaves.
xiii.
The children of poverty
Gathered around the golden light
Like sheep to the shepherd.
xiv.
Our eyes were open
To things they’d never seen
In these death camps,
These houses of horror.
xv.
Those graceful violet trees
With their limbs, their fingers like tendrils
Stretching, reaching all the way to the heavens
In prayer or disgrace at the gods.
xvi.
She imagined a foot
Stomping down in China
And sending a thousand waves every second,
Waves of air,
Embracing the globe in their strength.
xvii.
A giant’s child
In space
Came across a
Blueberry
Called Earth.
It was ripened by age,
Yet tasted sour,
So the child cringed and spat it out.
xviii.
God made man and said to him,
“Here thou art a book;
Here you may write of your
Revelations, loves, wisdom,
And pass it to future generations
For their consumption.”
Man raised his eyes and asked,
“But what of the imagination?
May I use that in my Book?”
God nodded, and said, “Yes, son,
You may; for past imagination
Brings light to future imagination.”
ixx.
He wrote a love note on the back of her hand
And she watched
As the ink spread through the grooves in her skin
Like needles poking out
And blurred,
The edges were fuzzy.
(“I never loved you and I never will.”)
"Peter"
You sit under the sun
And think about sweet eternity
Never to part for the gift
Of death.
But we all must meet
The moon.
you can tell a lot of those in the second block were written when i was questioning my faith. and x, xiii, and xiv are representative of my holocaust studies class (when i know they were all written). and xvi refers to the earthquake in china.
o, monday; and how was your day?