These late night poems, when I get down to thinking
More than under-the-sun dreams
I'm calm and under the influence of darkness
My ideas have been ripped at the seams.
Because right here, in the dark of the night and the clouds
I have seen when there's nothing to see
Right here in my lonesome with no one around,
I have been when there's nothing to be.
Under the sparkling ***** of gases billions of miles away
I have understood the silence and innocence
The way the stars are simple messages of being alive
I understand my mortality, in a sense.
No, I'm not taking acid or any drugs,
And I haven't even downed any beers
However, I'm under the influence of stars
Glowing ***** of gases for another million years.

Today I walked into Barnes and Noble to buy my summer reading book which just so happens to be super thick and its boring (**** me now!) Anyways, while we're there, out of curiosity, I asked if they had any John Green books (because everywhere else, they're either sold out or on hold) and they did. The lady brought me to a table. A few of my friends had recommended his works. Scanning the table of books, unsure of what to chose, a guy walks up to me. He looks about my age, maybe a year or so older. He's pretty cute, which is quite the pleasant surprise because usually guys don't talk to me. He says, pointing to The Fault in Our Stars, "I couldn't help but kind of overhear you talking, but I read this and it was amazing." He points at Looking for Alaska. "My girlfriend read this... said it was pretty good." So I say thanks and something awkward like 'I'll have to check it out,' and get The Fault in Our Stars. This small gesture has restored my hope in our generation. The guys in my school are mostly arrogant airheads with no taste in music, in my opinion, anyway. In addition to this experience with a stranger, today, while at a shopping center, I saw a girl wearing a 5 Seconds of Summer shirt, as I had mine on, too. I complimented her and she smiled and said, "Thanks, you too." This small gesture has also restored my hope in our generation. Today I learned that not everyone ***** and that makes me really happy. I guess that if you put yourself out there, ever so slightly, in the right places, you might learn things or make new friends.  What if I'd talked to the girl about 5SOS? Or asked the guy about other books he's read? There are so many opportunities every single day to improve the quality of our lives and we pass them up, because they're things that are thought of as small, but can have huge impacts. I believe that if each and everyone of us tried, just a little bit, to talk to  strangers, the world would be a better place. Not everyone wants to hurt you. I'm not saying to invite some random person  into your house, but to talk to people with common interests, or compliment someone on their shirt. Little things like that, as they did to me, can make someone's day. I walk to my mom with a pile of books. She turns to me and says, "Since when did cute boys talk to you at bookstores?"

I must not gaze at them although
Your eyes are dawning day;
I must not watch you as you go
Your sun-illumined way;

I hear but I must never heed
The fascinating note,
Which, fluting like a river reed,
Comes from your trembing throat;

I must not see upon your face
Love's softly glowing spark;
For there's the barrier of race,
You're fair and I am dark.

I hope you gaze  
Over, over breakfast
Tired mind in overcast, morning haze
It's raining in June
When your eyes attain their loving glaze

They could catch your smile
With a cardboard box, and a stick
*****, painted on your face a while
You're looking over what I wrote last night
For that smile,  I would limp every mile

This morning you begin to read my musing
English Muffin and Orange Juice
Is poetic perusing the least bit amusing?
Graft script, sweet nothings onto yourself
In conviction I made you my choosing

There is a clock ticking on the wall.....
I hear every second, every minute, every hour as it ticks away.
I can hear it....but I cant see it.

There is an hourglass sitting on the table....
the sand pours through and I can see as every second,
every minute, every hour falls away.
I can see it, but I cannot hear it,
or taste, nor immediately feel it.

What is it that really defines time?
We break things down to milliseconds
but our brains do not have the capacity to really register it.

Yesterday, I stood in the rain
put my head to the sky and let the drops hit my face.
It only takes a millisecond for the drop to fall on my lips,
but it takes three times that for my brain to realize it.

My sister was born and then I blinked....
and she will be starting school this year.
I am scared to blink again, honestly.

I want so desperately to pretend it doesn't exist,
that the restraints of time are something we simply made up.

Then, I see my grandparents,
and the increase in the number of wrinkles on their faces,
and I know that the only thing that this could be blamed on is
....time.

I feel us...
Growing and shifting and changing...
and separating.
Becoming more and more different with each passing day.
When we first met things were not like this.

Sometimes it seems that day was just yesterday,
then we fight and I know we are drifting.
And I hate it!!

I wish I could go back...
in time.

My life, your life, their lives, are passing
Not enough done in a solitude day..
and we are all falling behind.
The last generation is dying out.
Our generation is growing up,
we are taking over and we are not prepared...

Yet, there is just no way
that we could ever stop *time.

Ria
It means loving, caring, friendly,
It is the number 17,
It is like the passion of fire,
It is hiking and scaling mountains for the first time,
It is the memory of Dad,
Who taught me happiness and compassion,
When he showed me a dream,
My name is Ria,
It means living your life to the fullest!

In the fiendish day

Be on the brink of despair

The weeping angels

Survival
his masterpiece

Don't fall into bizarre quicksand

Little did I know, that one day,
Oh you, dark stranger would whisk me away,
Away from a world, I once took for granted.
Depriving me of the things that I valued,
Most dearly..Most devoutly...

O, dark stranger!
Why, O why...
Did you inevitably have to make me appreciate,
The fact that life is precious and far too short,
And that I could die tomorrow..?

Just what satisfaction do you get,
In making me cherish,
Every minute that He gives us?
In bereaving me of,
The gift of laughter..that is priceless?

Before you attacked me in the shadows,
I had not a clue that
This life was a treasure chest,
Rich in diamonds and gemstones of all sorts,
Or perhaps that it will be snuffed out and finished.

Unbeknownst to me,
Precisely how vulnerable and elusive,
For the misconduct of a handful of cells,
Could change my life so profoundly,
That happiness plays like a sad note.

Bounded to my bed,
Never shall I forget how you pinned me down.
Shut off in the small world of my own,
Unable to help, to meet or to work with
Break out, be of importance, perform marvels for God almighty.

You ponder how people can rejuvenate,
Or gather close to you.
Sympathy, inspiration, foodstuffs together with prayer,
Refreshing menu from the small yard,
Encompassed by care and attention.

What potency lay within me,
Reserve of power
Just been released just as much as I require,
To acquire in the battle,
Against you, dark stranger.