I look at you.
I look at my notebook.
I look at you again.
I look at my notebook.
I look at the board.
That shit is not interesting or understandable.
You are.
I look at the teacher.
He’s pretty cool.
He let me go to sleep cause I was bored 25 minutes ago.
I look at my Ipod.
I remember you said you liked this one song.
well you didn’t say you liked it.
You sang it out loud.
and I joined in on the fun.
you smiled at me.
I think you’re awesome.
I look at my notebook.
Not one damn note on it.
I doodle.
I hope you look over my shoulder and ask me what I’m drawing.
You didn’t.
I’m sleepy.
See you when I wake up.
I wanted to try something new, so I wrote a piece called “Fairytale Endings”. It’s about the classic novel “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland/ Alice in Wonderland” and I put an eerie twist in it. Enjoy!
Fairytale Endings (2011)
The rabbit, poked with needles of ruggedness, scavenged for the jewel s that ripped the bridge of time.
He scurried across a path that was halted by the footprints of metal booted doors
Doors with emboweled lips and bolted tongues could not give answers.
The rabbit was tired; He was wrinkled with weariness like his bow tie
On ripe canvases he was sketched with pepper freckles that age drew like the guns of rabbit lovers
Age licked his fingernails with razors until his talons were sharper than the creases carved into his suits
With knives of precision, the rabbit aggravated the glues of the earth.
Shortly thereafter, when the sun was blown away by the breaths of dandelions, Alice found that hole.
She dragged her lanky body, thin with dehydration down the hole
She scraped her ribs against the lifeless soil
Her cheeks were kissed with twigs and the ridges of dirt tickled her pink with irritation
Gravity fondled with her foot; she began to fall.
She raked at the mountains of dirt, only creating crumbs to create avalanches
She was stripped of choices and her preferences
Bare with disgust, she was trapped until her bones were eaten by the thirst of death
So, I wrote this poem for this contest a long time ago and the I had to write a poem about all four of the seasons and so I decided it would be the coolest to write is as if while I was walking to school, the seasons were changing. Since I live in Chicago, and the weather is always all over the place, I thought it was the perfect idea. If this is something that interests you, the Poem is right below.
I woke up before dawn let her daughter May sprout
Like the leaves of spring’s hair
I showered in the elixir of cleanliness, and proceeded to go a new train of thought
Once I walked out the door, I noticed the breeze that held wind with a mothers embrace
This wind drew a reaction from me like the pens of calligraphers
Grass had grew from life stirred in the bowl of clouds
Life had creeped into my neighborhood
I trotted through danger disguised in its quickness through the early morning darkness
Summer crawled from that darkness with her son
She presented me with a bright future
My thought processed boiled under her bosom
She sang in the backgrounds of songs that whispered into my headphones
I was listening to the voices of hip-hop philosophers
When all of a sudden I tripped over their words and fell out of consciousness
When I awoke, I was showered with the seasoning of autumn
Life was sucked up from mouths sewn in the threads of the sky
I was stumbling, still dizzy from the fall
I was too slow to catch the train
The chains of procrastination held me behind
Until a chill kissed me, causing goose bumps to inflate, making incisions into all that was comfortable
Winter blew Autumn past me
I recovered and began to walk
Ice glided underneath the treads of my shoes until I met the clouds of snow
Salt neglected this snow because the platform was not as important as the one that held the buildings of tourist attractions
My boots, buff with leather, decided to crush the ego of this snow
They forced me to trample over it
Down the street, Slaves stood around
They dealt crystals, coated in the coldness of white
White, like the colors their eyes used to be or the color of shoes they buy to feed their desperation
The crystals were supplied by desperation, in trade for their common sense
The sky was dim like their futures
I snuck past them with my grades and the gift of opportunity
Finally, I transferred to a new train of thought
I glided into the door of this train and spilled into my seat
Happy with hopes that today I might have a good day
—-end——
Any Comments?
Just a couple of hours ago, I told my crush that I liked her and I asked her if she felt the same way. I just got a text back. So, before I read it and my feelings get hurt or I get really happy, I’d like to disclose a poem about all my previous experience with crushes.
Crushes (2010)
Why do i like them?
Do I have a chance with them?
What do I have to do to get them to notice me in that way?
Crushes are more than a yes or no
Crushes are more than the smile that is molded by seeing her face and body everyday
Crushes are whispers in the air with the hope that you hear the subtle cries of the heart
Crushes are more than those unheard speeches that start with “I like you as a friend” and end with stale faces and a artificial agreement
Crushes are being the guy that tell you that you are beautiful when you are self conscious
Crushes are more than premeditated words, that we refer as “game”, its being nervous about even saying hi
Crushes are listening to a song and playing it out in your mind as if it was made just for her.
Crushes are hearing the dial tone as you are nervous about calling her.
Crushes are writing poems with the hopes that a girl will fall in like with you, making them your first kiss, your first girlfriend.
Crushes are making a whole new meaning for chivalry.
Crushes are disappointing.
Crushes are only receiving compliments about those very poems.
Crushes are hating your frame that expands, but wanting to be comfortable with it.
Crushes are feeling like an idiot when you cant bring up a conversation.
Crushes are failed attempts at getting her to like you.
Crushes are looking at other crushes bloom.
Crushes are feeling inadequate.
Crushes are trying to be your best and failing.
Crushes are being lead on.
Crushes are being told that she cant be your friend anymore on your birthday.
Crushes are staring at her with teary eyes and anguish.
Crushes are getting over 3 years of being lead on so you can be friends with her.
Crushes are wanting to get to know a girl just because she has a cool tongue piercing.
Crushes are finding out that she is like one of the guys.
Crushes are not being what that girl usually goes for.
Crushes are expecting her to break up with her ungrateful boyfriend for you.
Crushes are Facebook relationships meaning the world to you.
Crushes are hating someone and the next moment caring about her drinking water after hospital visits.
Crushes are wishing her standards were lower.
Crushes are feeling so happy that she sees you as more than a creepy lame anymore.
Crushes are the guys that run out of ammo, shooting for the stars.
Crushes are “I should have fucking known” playing in your mind like your favorite song.
Crushes never evolve… at least not for me.
Junior year in HS, I was going through alot. I was kind of contemplating the thought of suicide. I mean I was overwhelmed in school because I had 10 classes, two of which were AP, people hated me, and I would come home and cry because I missed my mom and sister who were in the hospital for a month, and I was living by myself initially and/or sleeping at my uncle’s house or in the hospital. My emotions were all over the place. Fortunately, I had ways to express myself so I got over alot. I mean, after all the bad, and the *idea that I had no one to talk to, I still had my art…and my words.
*I actually had people to talk to, I just didn’t ask. I thought that a person would just ask and see what was wrong, and if they didn’t ask that they didn’t care. And those who did ask, I told that I was okay and nothing was wrong.
Heres a poem a wrote about my feelings then:
My Apocalypse (2009)
My apocalyptic words are nothing but thoughts devastate the core of my inner being,
They could be acted upon, but through my eyes is the road to a soft hearted soul that can’t stop loving.
Streams of unholy blood surge through my narrowing veins,
A body that malicously swallows my rage.
Trapped in my mind are my hellacious thoughts that can ignite a fury of pain in your heart,
They are constantly being shadowed by my intelligence and common sense until it is the stronger force.
My evil is becoming stronger through more evil that is inflicted upon me,
A sweet person is turning grossly bitter.
catashrophic illusions of the nearing end of the folding earth along with I,
reincarnated as hell’s angel, heaven’s burden, or earth’s beckoned purge.
Through us humans lies so much power, but we choose to waste it,
We are blinded by the love of power, instead of finding the power of love.
I swallow the treacherous collaboration of my inner rage and pain,
I swallow it because of my fear. The fear of dancing with the devil…the fear of god, and most of all… the fear of my intentions.
My heart is as graceful and caring as the warmth-generating hugs from love,
Thats why my evil is not a factor in any of my decisions.
Evil converts to grace, unholy streams of blood turn to liqufied rivers of indigo heaven.
The bitterness becomes as sweet as she.
“She” is more than one person, I heard that “she” is more than just a girl.
“She” is faith, hope, and companionship. Destiny rules over her though.
“She” gives you lip numbing, heart swelling, soul emancipating love; a cheek warmthening, eloquent-filled, charm livening touch, and sythesizes the term of an cold-heart, but the feeling is as incredible as the inferno of passion that usually takes its place.
I have power, but then again i have love too, so my apocalyse is at sudden stop, and my heart is a rapid beat,
and again i am happy because an evil army lost to a love-filled fleet.
