hallie-jo
I had a another profile a little while ago under the same name that I closed down for personal reasons, but I couldn't stand to be away. Poetry is meant to be shared, or I feel there is little purpose. / About me: / I am a bit mad... but who isn't? / Amanda Palmer is the best. / Perks of Being a Wallflower is my favorite book. / "If you never do, you'll never know." is my mantra, although better described as a goal. / I spend my extra time and money on music and rock climbing. / Extra time and money is slim. / Sociology major / I want to be an occupational therapist later in life (astronaut was in close second) / Oh yeah, and enjoy my poetry. / / "If you have, give. If you need, ask." / / (insert Copyright and other legal stuff here I guess)
Why, when a baby cries,
we feel potential.
Like we know that his life
is the best its ever going to be
right now.
And we ponder telling them
that it only gets worse
but we stop short,
fearing maybe then he'll never stop.
But life does become better-- meaningful.
Sometimes.
However if when we are born
it is a marvelous accident,
then why do we scoff at oblivion.
Why do we strive to be more
than those who came before
and why the hell
are we concerned with disproving
heaven.
Why exactly can we find meaning
in a place that was formed out of chaos.
Why, when we see a baby laugh,
do we smile back.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
Debating if their
Way of being in a relationship
Is correct; for common belief consisted
Of believing in
Love. Not simply discussing
The way it should be. If
We focus only on that, it
Seems we ask ourselves, if it even truly existed.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
Pen on paper.
Makes eardrums ring to hear
What she's writing
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
She says
“Yes.”
Vaguely apparent.
Tension tightly traverses
Through my body
“Yes, give me that”
Five dollars in a parking lot.
Teeth rotting.
Amber from thoughts long forgotten.
Five minutes for five dollars.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
Why can't I trust
That all you say is true.
I truly can't believe
That the truth could sound this good.
I hate the reservations I have
Toward those who have reservations
To see and feel my emotions.
Appointments with the person
Whose personality is not as personally oriented
As some would like it to be.
But don't assume you know me
Because assuming just creates types
Which I try to undo with these types
That I pour my soul into;
But they somehow only seem to fit perfectly
Under perfected soles of shoes.
And do not try to read between these lines
For I often do not foresee these foretelling's endings.
I perceive that under these pretenses
Which do seem to be a bit false
I may leave a conversation abruptly
Trying to preserve my reputation and not make this situation
Worse.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 1:26 PM UTC
The future is an unpredictable at best,
Never tired of feasting on my nerves.
My untitled foe continuing my misery,
Making me feel less and less human
The only comfort coming from the trees
Offering me a taste of their freedom.
By the view of their branches.
Tasting freedom is lonely.
And I can't hardly handle being alone this long
Convinced I am worth only pennies.
But the space between my ears is full of ideas.
And this is simply a window to view them
Thoughts for a penny,
As my worth degrades.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
There was a sense of wonder as I wandered through my childhood, gazing up, knowing the trees never ended.
There is tranquility where none previously existed.
There was disappointment when the fence was discovered.
There was a splendid sense of bliss hidden in the clouds among the alligators and elephants.
There were smiles there.
There was patience there.
There was poetry.
There were smiles.
There was music.
There were phone calls that lasted upwards of an hour.
There were times the phone never rang.
There was a need for change that burned so deep, if not sated would choke its way out.
There was self-creation, cut and carved out of the mold.
There were few words spoken and the ones that were usually wished they could take the first plane out of town.
There was coffee.
There is coffee.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
Woman,
Too old for her age,
Constant frown engrained,
Into her once beautiful face,
Telling of lost love
And trials in her difficult life.
She taught me,
To prevent what plagued her
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
The last of the leaves blew off today.
But don't worry, they are biodegradable.
And they realized it was their time to go.
And they really did give us quite a show
Their sacrifice was appreciated by a few
And now they are given a mass burial
Their corpses lying on the sidewalk...
And I've realized that
The beauty of fall is prettier
When shared by two.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
I wear you like a bruise
You will not go away
I am at your every whim
I have to obey
You hold me like a gun
Pointed at my own head
You won’t leave me alone
Can I please go to bed?
I am your only weapon
You use me
To hurt me
Scars that I had no say in
Scars that only stay.
That won't go away.
I am my only weapon
I abuse me
And hurt me
Scars that I have no say in
Scars that only stay.
I cannot go away.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC