i don't want to write.
but i do.

i want to write
what i want
not what you want
not what they want

i want to write
what the words tell me
not tell the words
what i want to write

the power play
is over
between me and the world

i'd surrender
but i can't

in surrender is acceptance
and humility.
two attributes
i find unlikely
to exist

so instead i say nothing
a petulant child
who knows
her stubborn
nature
will break

old poems

old poems from last years planner...

when you fall,
there’s nothing around you but
rushing air
blocking your ears
we ball ourselves up
making smaller better
trying to
compress enough
so we can
disappear
and
not fall
anymore
-------

smiling is a loud way to fake you’re okay,

silence is a quiet method of acceptance

--------

we should separate ourselves

from the world, ignoring

the fake drama of today

that disappears

slipping off

us,

retract into

our own

peace,

where we

are alone

with our minds

and the words and

bustle of others

seem like a dream

or movie

and what is important

is real

The sky
flies over me
as i hover
above the clouds,
the moon is my savior
amid the darkness of the night.

the deathly silence
that blockades my ears
with sound

Unnamed

take off your shoes
and run down the sidewalk
sock-footed
in the fluorescent lights
illumination in the night

i wrestle with my
self
am i that type of person?
am i
that
adventurous?

i want to be.

reach down
then hesitate

look around

see the strangers
walking down behind

i do not want to be
trapped
in a prison
of false judgements

dont let them shackle you
before you
chain them

wait a few seconds
until they disappear
wait a few seconds till
you are alone

rip off your shoes
laces
unraveled
converse in hand
and run

cold biting
thread
breath in your
body
run

slow to a stop
jump
up
the stairs

open the door
quietly

place your shoes down
silently

walk down the hall
loudly

the tension within you released.

For...

For what would I walk a million miles
until my shoes were
mere scraps
of leather,
beaten tirelessly by the hammers of the sun?

for who would I brave the sunburn
engrained into skin,
the burning fiery
rejection of heat
that would become a part of me?

for when would I choose to
surrender my eyes
to the
encircling
of sand?
to drown alone in
seas of land?

for where would
it be appropriate
to give up my now
to walk
to step
to burn.

for how could i commit
myself
to such an arduous
task?
how could
i put
one
foot after the next
so many times
in
    sequence

for why am i thinking
of the dunes?
of a land
that i will never know?
of a dream
with no power
than that which
i breathe?

In Passing Of Minutes

The procrastination of the mind, is it comprehensible
how so many precious minutes can be wasted
in mindless deeds
how so many precious hours can be wasted
in thoughtful trash
how so many precious years can be wasted
for useless tasks

and who is it that wastes
in what we all want?
and who is it that determines
what the waste we want is?
and who is it that defines
whether something is worth time?

time is not money
though the two are often confused.

money is not time
though the two are sometimes alike.

truth is not fiction
fiction not truth

thoughtful not useful
useful not thoughtful

precious not powerful
powerful not precious

wasted not broken
broken not wasted

think.

The Wall

This is how my brain writes when challenged to come up with a poem at 11:45 on a saturday night.

I'd share my wisdom,
if it would fall upon ears that listened.
that comprehended its meaning in its entirety.
but the ears are blocked
rendered deaf by the bumbling of words,
that I strain to block out.

This impenetrable wall,
neither one of us moves to break.
so it stands above all,
its wisdom reigning in the dominance of its pure strength.

Elections

One of my worst poems, but I needed to express my political angst in some way! Hope you enjoyed it slightly or at least giggled at its horrible-ness...

It's the day of elections
I'm begging,
can obama just win
can obama just win

the votes being tallied on blaring tvs
can obama just win
can obama just win

i'll wake up tomorrow the news set in stone
can obama just win
can obama just win

Please help me dear voters let democrats have shone
can obama just win
please obama just win

From My Agenda Book

Just a note, these are all completely unedited jotted down, wanders of my mind scribbled in pencil in the margins of my planner. when you see '----' it means a new poem is beginning. Sorry like none of them have names, but I told you they were scribbles!
----
Inevitability
sinks its teeth
into your life
and when you pull up
it will not come out
and when you pry up
it will not come out
and when you cry down
a thousand tears
it will not come out
it's done.

 ----

E.X.P.L.O.D.E.

my mind 

and 

gather the 

pieces 

so I can 

start again

----

I thought 

when i left

the writing

would stop,

yet it

always

returns 

with the boredom 

of my

writing

mind

----

succinctly

i walk

on moons untold

in stories

never spoken

with ruby

red lips

----

in the orchard

and orange falls

floating above

the earthy ground

it does not 

land,

it does not want

to land

and 

combine,

orange+brown

murky

reds

the crisp

words

of 

a sharp 

tongue
----

Math Class
If I jumped up and screamed, would it change anything

make any dent in the monotonous sounds 

   of words, that cease to matter

   just anger, just annoy

 irking.

                                    help me before I boil over.

these words climb up, 

                                  crawl under my skin,

--while I wonder how I will make it through the year. 

----

its not the silly mistakes

that should matter its

the content that

should override

stupidity's shouts

with merciful proof

----

(poem written using only 

words my physics teacher 

said in class)

Essentially

burning nearby

light stars

sun dust

we all just sizzle

hypothesizing claims

of if and said

were and things
in the ground

extremely easy to see

in air

maybe

we will fall

out

and it will be over

not outside but in

or both
----

Unnamed

i live among the birds above
my breath as silent as the dove
that sleeps beneath the yonder tree
its eyes shut tight, it cannot see-

the world that whirls its wings around
the bustle streets, the heavy sound
the dirt, the black, of down below
the seeds of hate it will not sow-

in planted fields we all have made
in people waiting to be paid
in grey faced hunger sitting pale
who knows whats waiting to prevail

i live among the birds above
my breath as silent as the dove
that sleeps beneath the yonder tree
i will not wake, don't want to see.

Inspired

inspired by my best friend emma. i love her to death. and so it begins...