Travel-size

Sometimes, I wish I was a garden gnome
You know, the gnome in all the pictures.
With the landmarks from all over the world.
I would be able to go anywhere I wanted
Be shoved into anyone’s luggage without check-in
And off we go without a minute’s notice
What a whimsical life it would be!
Pictures upon pictures, upload after upload
Website after website, and movie cameos too!
If only I could be a garden gnome,
I’d be travel sized too!

Blame it on the Tea

I sat at the lunch table today
It was about a quarter to two
Having my sandwich with tea
And admiring the scenic view

So why did I want to launch
My perfectly flavored green tea
At the unsuspecting window
For the pure enjoyment of glass shattering?

It would be in slow motion,
Of course, like the Matrix
I can see it now, cup flying
Tea splattering, like a glad lock commercial

The base of the cup would impact
First, followed by a satisfying
Clamor of glass hitting the window
Frame and bouncing off lunch tables

A look of disbelief would be frozen
On my face, as I peer at a nearby
Anyone to place the blame on.
The lunchroom is empty. Too bad.

Lunch is over now, and I missed
my chance. Not to Mention I ran out of tea.
Back to the old eight to five.
Better switch to coffee.

Dream

In actuality this is in response to a GLEE episode I watched on hulu last night. The "Dream On" episode. Nothing is worse than existing without a dream. Or having your dream crushed... don't let it be!

Don’t let it get away, give chase
To the one thing that your heart desires
You will know when you see it
Because you will feel it throbbing
Through your very existence.
Your fingers will tremble and shake
As you get closer to it but
It is just out of reach, only a bit further
Your throat will dry up from excitement
Your breath will shake, unsteady
Body under no control of your own
As the blood rushes to every part
Of your body and into your soul
Don’t let it get away! If any other moment
Other than this. Pursue your dream!

missing

why can't i stop thinking about you
we didn't part at the best of times
we didn't have the best of times
but you linger in my mind and in my heart

the soft hair upon my chest, tickling my chin
sighing contentedly as we sat.
breathing and sitting, breathing and sitting
eyes closed, not a single care in the world

you tilted your head to look at me
said those three words, i hoped you wouldn't
everything froze. I held you tighter, but
not a word could come from my voice

i feigned foolery to readjust, i wasn't ready
don't think i'll ever fully be. and now
i'm left holding a pillow at night
missing you, and telling myself what a fool i've been.

Fortune Cookie

Over the last few weeks I've been "borrowing" left-over fortune cookie fortunes in preparation for writing this non-linear poem. I didn't know I had this many... Lucky nothing was repeated, I just closed off the poem using the same fortune. I think it worked well. So now you guys can keep your fortunes now, i'm done :D

Don’t give into cynicism
Every day is a new life to a wise man
Change is the watchword of progression
A different world cannot be built by indifferent people

A friend will soon reveal an exciting secret to you!
Accept the next proposition you hear
A golden egg of opportunity falls into your lap this month
A frivolous gift is a gift, nonetheless

Confidence is the hinge on the door to success
Do the thing you fear and the death of fear is certain
A leader is powerful to the degree he empowers others
Confidence begets confidence

An unexpected payment is coming your way!
This week you have a good head in matters of money
Adversity is the prosperity of the great
Keep your goals away from the trolls.

Do what is right, not what you should
Listen these next few days to your friends to get answers you seek
An unexpected event will soon make your life more exciting
One look is worth ten thousand words

Tomorrow your creative side will shine forth with exceptional ideas
A good memory is one trained to forget the trivial
Delay is the deadliest form of denial
Don’t give into cynicism

"As You Wish"

Wrote this during lunch. Post watching 'Princess Bride' early that morning with some friends. So I was thinking about it and thus behold! enjoy!

Hopeful eyes alight
As the unconscious stream
Of ‘would be’s’ and ‘what if’s’
Pitter off into a trench of
Forgotten finality

Invisible fingers grab
Onto lips and eyebrows
Like a puppeteer raising
The strings of its own
Melancholy marionette

Silence shatters into a
Thousand pieces of glass
Reflecting a pair of lips
Ready to burst with words
Poised with promise

“As you wish”

Speech Class

My heart is racing about a thousand paces.
Will they judge me? Will they accept me?
Will they love me for who I am of what I am?
Then I stop. Does it matter?

Of course it does. Deep down inside
I can feel it like a demonic shadow
Lurking within my bone’s marrow
Sucking me dry, like a leech.

Causing my hands to tremble at
The mere thought of exposing
My heart to be dissected by the ravenous
Entity to which I stake my survival

My stomach tightens, and bile rises
Forming some tsunami of nausea
Drying my throat as I swallow
Attempting to calm the storm

The hair on my body prickles
like some spooked feline
but the most that I can do is breathe
and clench… and breathe some more

Then it is done... Speech class…

Could you please?

Could you argue my case?
it isn’t a big deal really…
just show me off like some
prized pedigree, I’ll even do tricks

grab onto my qualifications and wave them,
like a fan made of Benjamins underneath
anyone and everyone’s nose, not
like they’d have a choice or something

take hold of my forehead and mark it
with the largest and brightest red marker
imaginable, the bigger the better
put that damn reindeer to shame

take a picture and throw it
on every and any milk carton
with my statistics, as if people cared
not like they drink milk these days

lastly graffiti my skill sets
along the wall, preferably the
indoor corridor of some famous museum
because of course BS is art

could you please argue my case?
It isn’t that I can’t
It’s just that you’ll do it better
Thanks so much in advance

<3 Me

Hunting Season

What a force to be reckoned with.
Their strong wing-beats cutting
Through the air as they shoot
Like colored comets from the sky

With one favorable glance
A flick of the wrist,
Their lengthy necks turn
As one at the new prey

A duckling approaches her
With its twinkling eyes
Evil masked by youth
Mouth open, chirping innocently

She reaches into her pocket
For the left-over roll saved
Just for this occasion,
Little does she know as the masses gather

Plucking an earnest sample
The girl drops it on the mottled green
A smile appearing from cheek to cheek
As the duckling gobbles its entrée

Chirping in satisfaction the duckling
Shakes it’s head, the girl bends
Over and closer in delight
Now the fun truly begins

Feathers cloud the air as
The ravenous winged beasts
Surmount their attack.
Moments dwindle, the scene clears

The half eaten roll is gone
Without a single remnant of its
Existence, the foul waddle
Off in search of new prey

But where is the girl?

Spring

This doesn't feel finished to me, and I wrote it 2 sunday's ago. So annoyed when writing poems and I just lose my train and can't recapture the moment. Blah.

Sunlit tranquility can only come from spring
Peaceful breezes run down my arm procuring
Words onto a blank canvas of dreams

Timeless change of radiant petaled fireworks
burst dusty incense enveloping the senses
throwing my mind into a certain euphoria

I Love the Rain

I love the rain
The cool, clean scent of
Fresh can only be described
After the perfect storm

The moody dark expressions
Of clouds instill mystery
And uncertainty as to what
Is to come, what will be next

Will it be daring sunrays
Jutting through the wall of
Gray nebulous mixtures
Or will the projectiles of water prevail

Mist becomes droplets, droplets
Turn to rain, rain signals
A new beginning for that
Which is left behind

Divots fill with tears
Overflowing and overwhelming
Man made concrete dams, running
Towards metal grates of oblivion

Fear not these waters of life
Are not forgotten but
Cycle through as acts
of renewal and invigoration

Shiver

Like a feather gracing my skin
Down my spine and repeats.
That familiar unsettledness
Disturbing your mental voices.
Making your breath stop

When you hear a sound that
Resonates through your bones
Your eyes and shoulders roll inward
Attempting to curb the sensation
That is fleeting yet so memorable

Wind breezing through your fingers
Scurrying to the depths of the body
Cooling the blood and every nerve
And all you want to do is scream
And shudder but all that comes out is

A shiver.

just some reflections and an attempt at freewriting

a lot of stuff has happened to me within the last week i'm almost bursting to tell but at the same time i'd rather not share alot of these memories. right now i'm at starbucks and just listening to Trading Yesterday which is (i believe) a Christian band from one of the guitar members from Evanescence. Who knew. and they are totally making me moody in my writing. i don't really want to work on anything useful. i have this very uncomfortable feeling about me, more of almost yearning. i suppose it might be that whole being single feeling thing. like i enjoy the whole single thing but can't help but wonder what would it be like. to have someone nearby, and now my thoughts are getting the best of me.

not even quite sure what i want to talk about everything is basically uneasy. i do apologize all this lack of punctuation because of the fact that i'm freewriting and when i do that it's just to lay down my ideas and whatever is going on in my mind. sometimes i just want to curl up into a bal. and just to close my eyes and imagine being held. the warm sun against my back is definately not helping, nor is the music because it's definatley making me tired and more longing than i usually am. at least i can type without loking tho i'm going to have t o attempt to read this later and i'm kind of afraid of that.

alot of music pertains to being held, to be safe, arms of love, arms wide open etc. do we all feel such insecurity? is it just now a pastime unto life that we have to endure? why is that. why does it have to be that way? to be continued...

May I...

May I love you with my very life
May I tremble at your every touch
May I dream about you every second
May I comfort you when you need
May I hug you whenever I see you
May I cherish every moment of you
May I honor your every wish
May I protect you from harm
May I hold back the darkness
May I endure nights without you
May I hold onto every breath
May I live when you are near
May I long when you are gone
May I enfold you in my arms
May I caress your hair
May I be with you forever
May I…

A Change in Derrick

Imagine a character whose appearance has recently changed, perhaps dramatically. Maybe it was a car accident or plastic surgery, maybe just a diet, a haircut, or some new contact lenses. But remember, even a subtly change may seem huge to your character.

First write a description of your character before the change. the describe the new appearance.

Derrick was always considered a strange fellow, but he was a good kid. Strange but a good kid. He was always one of those model children that ladies whisper amongst each other “That one… his momma raised him right.” He would open doors for everyone, even the smallest lap dog, and would stand silent and smiling till everyone passed though. He would always say please and thank you, bless you, you’re welcome. Never out of forced programming but of thoughtful habituallity. He was always wearing a nice pressed collared shirt, tucked into his nice slacks, with of course a belt. A sweater would always be tied around his shoulders regardless of the weather. His hair would be slicked back without a single strand out of place. In his hand he would always be tossing a small baseball, even while opening doors. He wouldn’t ever let anyone touch this baseball. Asking about it only led to more trouble.

One afternoon, Stella and Gertrude were sitting at a café, they were just finishing their tea time and were about to get up to walk out. Usually Derrick comes in at this time and opens the door for them, and remarks on how beautiful they get everyday. Both ladies return with what a wonderful boy he is and thank him for opening the door. Today was different. As Stella and Gertrude were collecting their things, the door to the café slams open. The entire restaurant stops and looks to the door. It is Derrick. But he looks different. His hair is a black mess on top of his head, oily and resembling a bird’s nest. His clothes are different too, he is wearing ripped jeans with holes on both knees, a white T-shirt with the words “Do the Helen Keller” scrawled across the chest, big shoes with the tongue over the bottom of his jeans. He has baseball gloves, a light jacket and sunglasses which do nothing to hide the insidious glare of his eyes.

“Good afternoon Derrick” the ladies say, unfazed by his appearance. He only looks at them and then sits down at a nearby table, kicking his feet up on a chair. The ladies look to each other, shrug and walk out the door. “I wonder what’s become of him.” “I don’t know. I was going to return this to him I had it polished and boxed since his birthday is coming up. Now I’m not sure what do to.”

Gertrude takes out a small box holding Derrick’s baseball, with a ribbon wrapped around it that says “Happy Birthday.”