ke-filtar
American
I am a 21 year old chemistry major who writes poetry. I do not enjoy writing papers or essays, but poetry is a way for me to get my feelings out of my head. If my subjects seem similar from poem to poem, that is because I am growing, yet growing slowly as a person, adult, and artist. Bear with me and I hope you like the crazy musings of my brain.
When you asked me how I had done it
I stared at you blankly.
Were you trying to be funny,
somehow stuffing your face right in front
of mine and his at the same time?
I don't know how you even managed that
from halfway across the room,
but my skin was instantly
and irreversibly crimson,
as if you had just slapped me,
or if the faces of our friends
who were now choking on the laughter in their throats
had the visages of six suns
somehow packed into one dingy college dorm room.
Of course, they couldn't have been suns,
or else the whole **** building would have caught on fire
between the beer soaked beds and butane lighters
and desk drawers crammed with cannabis.
In one blunt
sentence, you managed
to push me outside in the cold
with just the burning coals of my flesh
and my fists clenched, ready to challenge you
to a fight that only I could win.
I could not help being angry -
anyone would be with such a mirror
placed so closely to them, my ego
crisply clarified, sharply dissected.
Finally, you let me back in,
feeling sorry for my cold fingers
and my colder heart.
For the record, I let you back in too,
since we'll both mess up again,
probably.
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 3:42 PM UTC
Living a lie
of songs that
have no lyrics yet
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 3:10 PM UTC
I kissed you for mortal seconds,
but talking helped more.
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 11:49 AM UTC
I couldn't believe that it took fireworks.
Red fire, consuming my oxygen
and my thoughts.
And the tones of your voice
like booming thunder
filling my ears with a ringing
that I could hear even after
you left me.
You entered amidst a black sea of other people.
The room was dark, shrouded
in black lace and prayers.
But somehow you appeared to me
clearer and brighter
than any disco ball
or compact fluorescent could ever manage.
The soot soon smothered us all.
The flames licking bright new brick
and threatening to swallow us
piece by piece
taking with it our pressboard furniture,
just so that the interior matched our skin -
covered in shining, charcoal burns.
I couldn't believe that it took fireworks.
Red fire, of my creation
consuming every part of you.
And as if the spectacle wasn't enough
the first time,
an encore seemed fitting,
doused in gasoline.
Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 12:11 PM UTC
For so long I was wandering
in the crushing, painful dark,
anger uncontrolled, and I-
cursed with the blackened mark.
Then you revealed, with tearful eyes
within my glorious dream,
the secret that was locked inside-
its piercing, golden gleam.
That you were sent- far from me;
you'd love me if you could,
and though it was the saddest day-
at last, I understood.
And even though, in life I know,
It's not reality
I do forgive and now must live-
the Truth has set me free.
Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 12:08 PM UTC
I saw a giant hawk today;
It looked me in the eyes.
And with its shining angel wings
it took me to the skies.
From the air I saw the world;
All emerald and small.
And though the bird was shook by wind
I did not fear the fall.
Soaring over mountains tall
and oceans just as green,
I saw the treasures of the Earth
as I had never seen.
Approaching near to heaven,
but closer to the Earth,
I was as close to perfect
as I had been since birth.
At last he set me down again
upon the sparkling dust,
I'd rather just go on with him,
but return to life I must.
Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 12:06 PM UTC
The worst day of my life
appeared before my eyes,
as swiftly as the wind,
as silent as my cries.
The day they found my secret
was the day they strapped me down.
They wanted color - beauty -
but my world was black and brown.
Before, the world was vibrant
and I lived my life in bliss.
My secret once was special;
My secret here is this:
Everything I dream
becomes reality.
They make me sleep for their rewards
and all the waste is me.
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 4:21 PM UTC
The peaceful shepherd
dozing against warm
wood of a pasture
fence.
Where sheep live like kings
in a peasant's square
protected and fed
and led.
The shepherd's kin
cries weakly - but why
are you not in the
world, living?
A crinoline reply
floats above the sweetgrass.
Where would I
be without them?
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 4:19 PM UTC
When he was young,
he was broken and tired
with words constantly swallowed.
they'd crunch and snap in half - those
sharp consonants.
The vowels were another thing
altogether. Their soft flow
down his throat filled his stomach,
right up to the top until.......
he gave them up fantastically.
Presently, the words assemble on the
page, stacked in neat rows.
row after row after row.
But the white ice of paper
and coal of ink
do not
emote.
For by the face connections construct themselves.
So now, he is not broken
but he will break again.
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 4:15 PM UTC
glimmer of silver
floats up the aisle
finally comes to rest
silent, not sleepy,
words reach the ceiling
secrets and dreams confessed.
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 4:13 PM UTC