here's some stuff i've been writing.....
i'm gonna put some stuff in here that i've been writing for my creative writing class. i am not just posting favorites of the ones that i think are the best......i'm posting all of them. and i'm including a disclaimer that i also had to give my prof. : i am not a sucidial person who is constantly miserable. this stuff is FICTION! not a retelling of my life or the things that are going on in it right now. that said, here you go. sorry if some of them seem too depressingly cliche, but i find no poetry in happiness or love or that crap.....
2 sept 05
The Sun may be King,
and we may love to dance
and play
and sing in his presence,
But it is only in his reflection,
his light projected
through the heart of our Queen the Moon,
hat we may find peace,
and love,
and dreams.
2 sept 05
The bricks were uneven.
My life is ruled with an iron fist
so that i never have to deal with imperfections.
Calculated risks,
strict schedules,
watched steps.
Everything had a time and place.
But still i sat,
staring,
mesmerized by these four bumpy stones.
No risk tabulations,
no day planners,
no fumbled strides.
They simply were.
And i wept, not because i couldn't tolerate their flaws,
but because the uneven bricks had found
more comfort and beauty in their mistakes
than i ever found
in my perfections.
Breaking Through Walls - 12 sept 05
There are screams
that sink so deep into your bones,
that they vibrate your marrow.
There are cries that reach out in all directions
so profound,
that even the skies weep.
There are limbs that lash out and strike
with the indiscriminate violence of lightning bolts.
Destroy, smash, incinerate.
Slashing, wailing, gnashing.
This is the business of breaking through
[political]
[cultural]
[personal]
walls.
25 sept. 05
Some wounds never really heal.
It's been almost two years,
and the wound still feels as fresh as ever.
Days can go by,
several in a row,
without a word or thought about it.
But whenever an image is stirred or it's brought up,
it's the same cold, angry, empty, violent feelings again.
People say that if you talk about it,
it won't hurt as bad.
If you share or express your wounds,
they will begin to heal.
It's been almost two years,
and the wound still feels as fresh as ever.
And i've shared.
I've expressed.
I've cried and screamed and pleaded and fought.
But it doesn't hurt any less.
And writing this doesn't make me feel any better.
It just reminds me that some wounds never really heal.
26 sept 05
And i ran.
i ran from the emotions i couldn't deal with,
from the people i didn't like,
and from the thoughts i couldn't make sense of.
Alone, i ran on.
i ran past the issues in my life.
rather than seek out discussions,
i opted for aviodance.
ignoring the call of friends because i couldn't find words that conveyed my insides.
Empty, i ran on.
i ran into recesses of my mind where no one else coud follow.
i squeezed all consious thought into a grey,
sterile area of numbness.
Scared, i ran on.
i ran through a time where i was a mother to my own parents,
not knowing if or how long i'd last.
but i had to.
So i ran on.
i ran until my feet were blistered,
my legs exhausted,
and my heart fiercely pumped.
Everything i had been running from was still right behind me,
a relentless shadow that the fastest sprint couldn't beat.
But i was ready to tackle those demonic shadows.
Even with blistered feet and tired legs,
my heart was ready to feel and function,
instead of pulsing and pumping.
And i ran no more.
there are pieces of fiction too, but my comp. is being dumb and won't let me transfer, and i'm not typing them all out, so they'll have to wait. and i'm done for today...........
2 sept 05
The Sun may be King,
and we may love to dance
and play
and sing in his presence,
But it is only in his reflection,
his light projected
through the heart of our Queen the Moon,
hat we may find peace,
and love,
and dreams.
2 sept 05
The bricks were uneven.
My life is ruled with an iron fist
so that i never have to deal with imperfections.
Calculated risks,
strict schedules,
watched steps.
Everything had a time and place.
But still i sat,
staring,
mesmerized by these four bumpy stones.
No risk tabulations,
no day planners,
no fumbled strides.
They simply were.
And i wept, not because i couldn't tolerate their flaws,
but because the uneven bricks had found
more comfort and beauty in their mistakes
than i ever found
in my perfections.
Breaking Through Walls - 12 sept 05
There are screams
that sink so deep into your bones,
that they vibrate your marrow.
There are cries that reach out in all directions
so profound,
that even the skies weep.
There are limbs that lash out and strike
with the indiscriminate violence of lightning bolts.
Destroy, smash, incinerate.
Slashing, wailing, gnashing.
This is the business of breaking through
[political]
[cultural]
[personal]
walls.
25 sept. 05
Some wounds never really heal.
It's been almost two years,
and the wound still feels as fresh as ever.
Days can go by,
several in a row,
without a word or thought about it.
But whenever an image is stirred or it's brought up,
it's the same cold, angry, empty, violent feelings again.
People say that if you talk about it,
it won't hurt as bad.
If you share or express your wounds,
they will begin to heal.
It's been almost two years,
and the wound still feels as fresh as ever.
And i've shared.
I've expressed.
I've cried and screamed and pleaded and fought.
But it doesn't hurt any less.
And writing this doesn't make me feel any better.
It just reminds me that some wounds never really heal.
26 sept 05
And i ran.
i ran from the emotions i couldn't deal with,
from the people i didn't like,
and from the thoughts i couldn't make sense of.
Alone, i ran on.
i ran past the issues in my life.
rather than seek out discussions,
i opted for aviodance.
ignoring the call of friends because i couldn't find words that conveyed my insides.
Empty, i ran on.
i ran into recesses of my mind where no one else coud follow.
i squeezed all consious thought into a grey,
sterile area of numbness.
Scared, i ran on.
i ran through a time where i was a mother to my own parents,
not knowing if or how long i'd last.
but i had to.
So i ran on.
i ran until my feet were blistered,
my legs exhausted,
and my heart fiercely pumped.
Everything i had been running from was still right behind me,
a relentless shadow that the fastest sprint couldn't beat.
But i was ready to tackle those demonic shadows.
Even with blistered feet and tired legs,
my heart was ready to feel and function,
instead of pulsing and pumping.
And i ran no more.
there are pieces of fiction too, but my comp. is being dumb and won't let me transfer, and i'm not typing them all out, so they'll have to wait. and i'm done for today...........