Bummer

Something stupid.
When people don't have fun. They come, make plans, hang out with friends. But being a total downer? not cool. Not at all. So please, if you're having a pissy day, go grab a cup of tea, a book, whatever floats your boat, and don't make plans! Because being a bummer on group plans? Not going to make your day better. Sorry.

These phantom whispers
kill me. Their hollowed
eyes and wretched lips.
Narcotic death.
This sweet silence,
a drunken kiss.
Our lips are tainted
with bittersweet words.
Melancholy death makes
its bed with me.

My flesh consumed,
and so it called, a
reminder of former
carelessness, do not
fight this reprieve.
Our dreams ripe with
hunger. The menacing
shadows dulled. so
does vivid death
lie open to me.

humanity

Oh the fatal tries of human error
A bloodbath of neverending proportion
Calculus classes are still plugging in the numbers
By the million? Of course.
Humanity, its ruined for today.
It’s ruined for us all.
The young and hopeful, the ones who have not
Yet seen all of our deathly throes
Of action. Those who seem to carry
That thread of hope, of longing.
But candles are obsolete, no longer
Needed at all. So why are we?




Sorry, bad poem. I am just so fed up with people in general. not people i know, but humans. we are awful. I'll rewrite later.

I'm in a creative slump brought on by excessive I-hate-indiana-bipolar-weather illness and a good case of AP world history (see symptoms below). Forgive me for lack of poem posting, etc. I promise, this summer I'll have plenty. I'm going to writing camp again, and that always makes my creative side really strong. I'll try to get a picture up of my ceramics project, a clay pot of my hand.

the things that make my day

1. thirty second snowball fights
2. our snowman, his name is Victory!
3. hottubbing in winter
4. snow angels in our bikinis and trunks
5. feet!
6. The Time Warp in the street, yes in swimsuits
7. Never wanting to go home
8. a lovely warm shower
9. my computer

Gran Torrino

So, two posts in one day. What a day.

Gran Torrino. For those of you who have not seen this clint eastwood movie, it's not a western. It adresses issues like racism and gang violence. In other words, you have to see it. In the words of my brother, the acting might sometimes be sub-par, but worth seeing. I completely agree.

the blood.
It took hold,
weakened those
vital muscles,
like legs and strength.
Rendered little
things, like tearducts,
impossible.
Too much else was
leaking,
some halfway dried.
It makes you think
it makes you weak
and scared.
Crumble, like
ancient rome after
a power vacuum.
The blood.
Like a river,
it never seems
to stop flowing.


Thank you and good night

I've been reading. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a bookworm, and even more so when the book is as amazing as this one was. My Sister's Keeper.

I finished it with tears running down my face. I kept them in my eyes for a good moment, too. For a few moments I couldn't quite see the words on the page. But gravity got the best of me, and my tears melted into my bed and my hands and fingers. I balanced one tear between two fingers. Have you ever tasted tears? I recycle them, like i have a bank that will someday run dry if I cry too much.

My Sister's Keeper was so amazing, I cant even describe it. I won't try to. All I'm going to say is that there are some moments of brilliance that you simply can't ignore. This book kept me up at night thinking about it. Past when I could keep my eyes open to focus on the words. But words arent the only thing telling this books story, which is the amazing part. Its the tears that I know people are shedding, the thoughts, and the dog-eared pages. its that feeling you get when you know the words to your favorite song. I don't know how to explain it. It just is.

I wear my books like honor badges. I read in the hallway, my nose constantly buried in a book. I am a true bookworm. Maybe the words protect me from the world. with a book in front of my face, I can be whoever I want. Or i don't have to be anybody at all. I'm hidden. One thing about My Sister's Keeper: the other kids felt invisible. I would hate it. But then again, being invisible has advantages.

I know this is really long. I can't help it. Sorry, and if you're still awake, next time I'll post a poem