Music=Me

15 04 2012

The coursing beat

Picks up my feet

Urging me forward

I tap my fingers

Swing my hips

And taste the lyrics

With moving lips

The slow notes calm

A soothing balm

For overworked nerves

My music feeds

My ear’s diverse needs

My music speaks

When I don’t know what to say

My music keeps me going

Through life’s every fray

Music listened

Is an expression

Of what I believe

Of what I want

Of feelings and ideas

It represents me

My music

IS me

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I Walked on Rainbow

27 02 2012

So, I wrote this last night. Inspiration is unclear still, but it seemed apropos considering it’s my birthday, even if it’s a little depressing.  So much has happened in this year alone, I feel ninety instead of sixteen. New school, new city, new friends, LOVE (which wasn’t something I had to deal with at my last school). I promise at some point here I will get around to everyone’s pages. Recent personal  happenings are keeping my schedule a little erratic.

Cheers from the new old lady 😉

There was a time so long ago

When my feet touched nothin’ but rainbow

I skipped

And I hopped

I ran

And I danced

Me myself and I

Needed no romance

The sky was blue

And the grass was green

Everything I had

Was all I could need

No worries

No pain

No cold hard truth

My worst hurt was when

I lost a baby tooth

Reality was too big

For my naive eyes to see

My world was so small

I bounced of its walls with glee

And my feet touched nothin’ but rainbow

Colors shimmered and scattered

With my every footfall

Dropping down like painted tears

Of course I thought they were only rain

Tears are for those who have experienced pain

That rainbow was once so wide

I had to run a mile to the other side

It slowly shrank

As I grew up

Until I was on tip toes

And then one day

POOF!

I fell down

Off my rainbow

Like a bird from its nest

It had just disappeared

And so childhood’s fog cleared

I knew not where to go

Having lost my compass of a rainbow

For a while I was lost

And I probably still am

It’s much harder to find one’s way

On crude, solid land

My pot of gold exists somewhere

And I’ll keep on looking

Even though life’s not always fair





Slippery Truth

25 01 2012

Whisper, whisper in the dark

Poison arrows hit their mark

Shredding me up inside

Soul debris in constant collide

The chance to know starts to entice

Thirst for knowledge, such a vice

That slippery gray truth it will

My soul and sanity slowly kill

Like an addicted cat I want to know

That thing that taunts my eyes to and fro

Don’t tempt me, damn curiosity

The end to this torture I cannot see

It’s pure masochism, I suppose

This desire for a truth that nobody knows





Ode to My Converse

21 01 2012

Oh Converse, oh Converse shoe

Nowhere is where I’d be without you

We’ve been everywhere together

And braved all sorts of weather

You’re dirty and you’re torn

And blissfully well-worn

You never go out of style

And make long walks worth their while

Long thin laces that never come untied

You make me go all starry-cross-eyed

My feet feel guilty in other shoes

Days without you are simply the blues

Stay with me and I’ll serenade you with verse after verse

I swear to be faithful for better or worse





Ban Censorship!!

19 01 2012

– This is the poem I had on my blackout page yesterday.  I decided to post it again for those of you who may have missed it and also because the protest may be over, but the bill is still in existence and that is unacceptable.  My poem is applicable to this bill, but also to all other forms of censorship. As an avid reader, the banning of books has always been something that is especially wrong to me.

I was planning on choosing one quote as a representative for my feelings on censorship, but I could not choose, and here they all are:

“You can cage the singer but not the song.”  ~Harry Belafonte, in International Herald Tribune, 3 October 1988
“The paper burns, but the words fly away”.  ~Akiba ben Joseph

“Censorship is telling a man he can’t have a steak just because a baby can’t chew it.”

― Mark Twain

“When you ban a book you ban an idea, and that’s communism.”

– Andrea Z. 🙂

Hold back the curtain

Don’t let the wretched thing fall

Come to freedom’s SOS call

Ideas are truth and they are free

How dare they hide them so the people can’t see

Writer’s, join your hands

Preserve the freedom of this land

We are the backbone

Of every revolution

We are the first ember

Of a raging fire

Sing with this written choir

Raise our standard ever-higher

Quills raised and held in an iron-tight grip

Ban the despot that is censorship





Fake Paternal Love

16 01 2012

– This is a poem I have been needing to write for my entire life.  It’s my first step to healing the wounds my father has inflicted upon me.  You can grasp much of the situation from my verses, but I will tell you more.  My father has never provided for me.  He does not pay child support or medical bills or anything.  My brave, strong, and amazing mother has done everything for me.  They treat her like crap, him and his female dog of a wife. He tries to make me feel guilty about not coming to visit him and about asking him to pay for my school trips.  

This is, I realize, a very angry and vengeful poem and I hope someday I will be able to write one that is not as much so, but that day seems eons away from this one.

 

Not once did you apologize

For all those lies

The endless stream of excuses

A brilliant rage in me induces

Fake paternal love

Is the poison arrow shot

By a cruel hunter at a naive dove

Someday I will make you pay

For treating my mother and I this way

You have no right to chide me

For pointing out the truth

You are an irresponsible child

And make me look like an adult

By never doing as you should

I’d shoot your foot if I could

When I am older

I will rain down on you

A thousand legal boulders

One by one they’ll crush

Till of you there’s naught but mush

Even then I will not have my revenge

My ire will someday fully be released

And all you’ll be able to do is cringe

 





My Writing Process

9 01 2012

Words flowing

Thoughts stirring

Mind whirring

Pencil writing

Nail biting

Eraser clearing

Lines smudging

Self editing

Idea combining

Hopes climbing

Intense debating

More erasing

Writing is

So frustrating