Two poems from 2005 or earlier,
back from mine sweet teenage years...
sometimes when I read back through old stuff,
I have to widen my incredulous eyes...who was this girl?
What was going on in her head?
Is She really me?
#1 (written 2003..probably in some math or english class)
the sands flit across the face of a girl
who's brought back to a time of regret.
she doesn't know
how she got there,
all she knows
is that these beads of guilt
are enclosing around her slender neck
and she throws herself into the surf
and pounds her fists into the drifting shells.
later, slowly she stands back up
and pushes the bedraggled strands off her face.
her face - lifted,
towards the bullet-hued sky
as she walks back
to where she came from.
#2 (I posted this is in 2003 on a different site, and got positive feedback. I still find this strange as I wouldn't consider this one of my personal successes...but hey, the crowd knows best?)
I Can't Fucking Compute With You
i really tried to say what i meant this time
but it all came out in one stupid rhyme
i made a mess out of myself again for no reason
left the window open to let it rain inside
i really didn't mean to freak you out
i don't know what i was talking about
but i have to answer this problem with you
if 1 + 1 = 2..
why don't our numbers compute?
and me - you = melancholy
you + someone else = reasons to cry
us divided by all these miles
= really dumb lyrics and reasons to die
then i tried to explain to myself
all the reasons
why you're not going to be there to hold my hand
through the ageless seasons
i wish we were summer spring or winter
but we're just fucking autumn...
bright and brilliant on top,
but decayed, rotting on the bottom.
-end of poems-
Hmmm. And now, inspired for the first time in years, actually wrote something dece. But I am not sharing it right now. Only on Rough Draft One.
back from mine sweet teenage years...
sometimes when I read back through old stuff,
I have to widen my incredulous eyes...who was this girl?
What was going on in her head?
Is She really me?
#1 (written 2003..probably in some math or english class)
the sands flit across the face of a girl
who's brought back to a time of regret.
she doesn't know
how she got there,
all she knows
is that these beads of guilt
are enclosing around her slender neck
and she throws herself into the surf
and pounds her fists into the drifting shells.
later, slowly she stands back up
and pushes the bedraggled strands off her face.
her face - lifted,
towards the bullet-hued sky
as she walks back
to where she came from.
#2 (I posted this is in 2003 on a different site, and got positive feedback. I still find this strange as I wouldn't consider this one of my personal successes...but hey, the crowd knows best?)
I Can't Fucking Compute With You
i really tried to say what i meant this time
but it all came out in one stupid rhyme
i made a mess out of myself again for no reason
left the window open to let it rain inside
i really didn't mean to freak you out
i don't know what i was talking about
but i have to answer this problem with you
if 1 + 1 = 2..
why don't our numbers compute?
and me - you = melancholy
you + someone else = reasons to cry
us divided by all these miles
= really dumb lyrics and reasons to die
then i tried to explain to myself
all the reasons
why you're not going to be there to hold my hand
through the ageless seasons
i wish we were summer spring or winter
but we're just fucking autumn...
bright and brilliant on top,
but decayed, rotting on the bottom.
-end of poems-
Hmmm. And now, inspired for the first time in years, actually wrote something dece. But I am not sharing it right now. Only on Rough Draft One.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SISTER!
i love you.
OH MAN AllPoetry! Takin' it back.
ReplyDeleteI found that old notebook we used to leave in each other's lockers not too long ago and read through it and felt the same way: "Who WAS this?!?! Who were WEEE??"
But the fact remains: WE ARE AWESOME.