Saturday, November 20, 2010
/sigh
The past couple days have really, really sucked mucho. Thursday night, my computer decides to get itself fried, and now I'm stuck with my craptop :( Also, on Friday, I had called my dad, only to find out he was on the way to the vet, because it was time for the family dog to be put down. I mean, at least we still have the other dogs around, but when you realize a dog that has been around for 12 years of your life, is no longer around, it just dims the mood. What makes it all better, is my vast amount of papers due on Monday/Tuesday, at least the quarter is just about over, which means I'm closer and closer to being at home. I guess I just have to sit back and hope the days pass quickly.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Excited about the silly little things.
So all of this morning, my "weather channel" app on my phone kept going of, warning me of the impending doom that is HEAVY WINDS! I don't quite know why, but I was SO fascinated by this that I felt inclined to text not one, but TWO people about it. Lame, right?
As I'm working on finishing up all these critiques I have to write on short stories submitted by classmates, I'm realizing someone in my group still hasn't posted a story, and the due date for that was Thursday of last week. My question is, what are they planning on doing? Bringing it to class tomorrow and saying "Sorry, blackboard was down?" Yeaaaah...K! Although, I suppose I should be happy, its technically less work for me to deal with, which I'm quite okay with, so I guess unless it ends up adversely affecting my life, I shouldn't bitch too much about it.
I'm somewhat excited to see what happens with snow this year. Personally a ton of snow would be AWESOME, except I walk to school... and I need to make back home at some point next month, so I'm hoping for a little generosity from the powers in control of snow...HINT HINT!
Anyways, enough of this procrastination, I has work to do.
As I'm working on finishing up all these critiques I have to write on short stories submitted by classmates, I'm realizing someone in my group still hasn't posted a story, and the due date for that was Thursday of last week. My question is, what are they planning on doing? Bringing it to class tomorrow and saying "Sorry, blackboard was down?" Yeaaaah...K! Although, I suppose I should be happy, its technically less work for me to deal with, which I'm quite okay with, so I guess unless it ends up adversely affecting my life, I shouldn't bitch too much about it.
I'm somewhat excited to see what happens with snow this year. Personally a ton of snow would be AWESOME, except I walk to school... and I need to make back home at some point next month, so I'm hoping for a little generosity from the powers in control of snow...HINT HINT!
Anyways, enough of this procrastination, I has work to do.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Dust
From where we begin,
surrounded by dust,
and where we end,
enveloped by dust.
Dust, that gave life.
Dust, that gave thought.
Dust, that joins us.
Dust, that assimilates.
Dust, that breaks us.
Dust, that ends us.
From where we begin,
we also must end.
Among all the others.
Alone, in the dust.
surrounded by dust,
and where we end,
enveloped by dust.
Dust, that gave life.
Dust, that gave thought.
Dust, that joins us.
Dust, that assimilates.
Dust, that breaks us.
Dust, that ends us.
From where we begin,
we also must end.
Among all the others.
Alone, in the dust.
Purpose
Why are you here?
What makes you
more deserving than most?
Your expectations,
exceed your capabilities.
Why do you try?
Is your prowess
as great as your
Napoleonic ego?
Ask yourself,
do you deserve
what you are
striving for,
or are you
just another overzealous
person, wanting to be known?
What makes you
more deserving than most?
Your expectations,
exceed your capabilities.
Why do you try?
Is your prowess
as great as your
Napoleonic ego?
Ask yourself,
do you deserve
what you are
striving for,
or are you
just another overzealous
person, wanting to be known?
Final Walk
Unaware, you walk
along a dark street.
Sign unfamiliar,
flashing your dreams.
A beautiful mural
beside and empty lot,
stops you in awe.
A faint shuffling,
a warm grip.
A cool feeling,
pressed to your neck,
freezing you solid,
like an iceberg
in a stormy sea.
along a dark street.
Sign unfamiliar,
flashing your dreams.
A beautiful mural
beside and empty lot,
stops you in awe.
A faint shuffling,
a warm grip.
A cool feeling,
pressed to your neck,
freezing you solid,
like an iceberg
in a stormy sea.
December
December, December,
somber and gray.
How shall I remember,
this bleak white day?
Stocked full of spirit.
Morale rising high,
even though we fear it.
Our end is nigh.
The ancients have told us,
so beautifully carved.
Yet some are oblivious,
while others are marred.
December, December,
somber and gray.
thought of forever
as our final day.
Skeptics and scholars,
decide what to say.
None of them bother
about new years day.
life powers through.
At least for now.
No one knows what to do,
all clinging to what they vow.
December, December,
somber and gray.
let us be together,
and together we pray.
somber and gray.
How shall I remember,
this bleak white day?
Stocked full of spirit.
Morale rising high,
even though we fear it.
Our end is nigh.
The ancients have told us,
so beautifully carved.
Yet some are oblivious,
while others are marred.
December, December,
somber and gray.
thought of forever
as our final day.
Skeptics and scholars,
decide what to say.
None of them bother
about new years day.
life powers through.
At least for now.
No one knows what to do,
all clinging to what they vow.
December, December,
somber and gray.
let us be together,
and together we pray.
My Room
A soft fluorescent glow,
backed by a stereo blare.
The safe place I always go.
Comforted by an LCD glare
The walls, plain and simple.
A miniature fridge on the floor.
An empty bag of chips crinkle.
All within a closed white door.
This is my sanctum,
my temple, my home.
A place I'm always welcome.
A haven with my throne.
Welcome and inviting,
to all those I hold dear.
Keeping my enemies distant,
and my friends ever near.
backed by a stereo blare.
The safe place I always go.
Comforted by an LCD glare
The walls, plain and simple.
A miniature fridge on the floor.
An empty bag of chips crinkle.
All within a closed white door.
This is my sanctum,
my temple, my home.
A place I'm always welcome.
A haven with my throne.
Welcome and inviting,
to all those I hold dear.
Keeping my enemies distant,
and my friends ever near.
An Unseen Cry
If only you knew,
by looking in those eyes.
The despair they contain,
from hope and longing.
They have but one desire,
that deus ex machina
you call your love,
and the hope it brings.
But you couldn't tell.
You sat and stared,
those eyes telling the story,
a deafening cry.
The cry falls short,
never reaching your eyes
as you look right through.
If only you knew.
by looking in those eyes.
The despair they contain,
from hope and longing.
They have but one desire,
that deus ex machina
you call your love,
and the hope it brings.
But you couldn't tell.
You sat and stared,
those eyes telling the story,
a deafening cry.
The cry falls short,
never reaching your eyes
as you look right through.
If only you knew.
Fire and Ice
Words burn inside of my weak, weary lungs.
My cold, steel lips keep them trapped below.
It is because of you,
the way you smile,
the way you speak
that ignites the fire within me,
but my frozen exterior holds it all back.
The flames heating my blood,
boiling it as my strained heart
pumps the molten fluid through my veins.
A dirty mixture of steam and sweat
burst from my pores,
filling my nostrils with the smell
of my own charred flesh,
clouding my mind
with thoughts of you.
My fingers break
with each letter I write.
My words becoming as twisted
as the crumpled appendages,
that I once called my hands.
My written words are only a facade,
a pathetic attempt at conversation.
You'll never truly know my words,
unless you turn me inside out,
but my body has no zipper,
no buttons or clasps,
and my steel exterior,
impossible to tear.
For now, I shall remain,
with fire in my lungs,
and ice in my skin.
I am the first and last example
of spontaneous combustion,
but you'll never see it,
you will never know.
To you I am nothing more,
than a cold, quiet body,
keeping a proximity to you,
ever so safe, ever so far.
Straining to break the bonds,
that will hold me back for a lifetime.
My cold, steel lips keep them trapped below.
It is because of you,
the way you smile,
the way you speak
that ignites the fire within me,
but my frozen exterior holds it all back.
The flames heating my blood,
boiling it as my strained heart
pumps the molten fluid through my veins.
A dirty mixture of steam and sweat
burst from my pores,
filling my nostrils with the smell
of my own charred flesh,
clouding my mind
with thoughts of you.
My fingers break
with each letter I write.
My words becoming as twisted
as the crumpled appendages,
that I once called my hands.
My written words are only a facade,
a pathetic attempt at conversation.
You'll never truly know my words,
unless you turn me inside out,
but my body has no zipper,
no buttons or clasps,
and my steel exterior,
impossible to tear.
For now, I shall remain,
with fire in my lungs,
and ice in my skin.
I am the first and last example
of spontaneous combustion,
but you'll never see it,
you will never know.
To you I am nothing more,
than a cold, quiet body,
keeping a proximity to you,
ever so safe, ever so far.
Straining to break the bonds,
that will hold me back for a lifetime.
Autobigraphical
Nineteen Ninety:
On a May day
I am born
into this world.
Nineteen Ninety-Five:
An accident brings
change to my life.
Glasses become identity.
Nineteen Ninety-Eight:
A new town.
A new school.
Many new problems.
Two-Thousand and One:
Shock to my system.
An unfamiliar school.
A life-changing experience.
Two-Thousand and Four:
High-School begins.
Back to the norm.
Nervousness kicks in.
Two-Thousand and Eight:
I finally made it.
My sanity intact.
What happens next?
Two-Thousand and Ten:
A new town.
A new school.
Same old me.
On a May day
I am born
into this world.
Nineteen Ninety-Five:
An accident brings
change to my life.
Glasses become identity.
Nineteen Ninety-Eight:
A new town.
A new school.
Many new problems.
Two-Thousand and One:
Shock to my system.
An unfamiliar school.
A life-changing experience.
Two-Thousand and Four:
High-School begins.
Back to the norm.
Nervousness kicks in.
Two-Thousand and Eight:
I finally made it.
My sanity intact.
What happens next?
Two-Thousand and Ten:
A new town.
A new school.
Same old me.
Welcome! Welcome!
So my goal for this blog is to help get the things that I write a little more visible. Mostly I write poetry, but I have been known to dabble in prose. I figure I'll also post rants and whatever else I feel is worth it. Hope you enjoy!
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