Home.
It's a noun.
It's also an adjective, adverb, and verb.
It is the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.
A place in which
The essence of childhood, innocence, and versatility
Bloom like a spring annual.
But after the clock of those 18 years
Runs out
You are free to leave.
In fact, you are encouraged
To move to another
Until you build a home for yourself.
Some never build another home
They find decent company
In one night stands
And the nicotine tinged, cigarette burned sofas.
Some build a home better than the one they came.
Gardenias, chrysanthemums, and marigolds in the garden;
Scrubbing a crayon medium portrait
Off the comic latte walls.
I have a distorted image of home.
All these places I want to go and
All these people I want to meet.
I cannot settle
Until I have shaken hands with the world itself
But the argument still standing is
Do I go alone?
I have never been good with loneliness
And yet I crave the anonymity
Of standing on the street, watching the cars rush by
Knowing
I am not bound by failure.
I am not tethered down by my haunting past
No definitions chained to my shoulders
Forever slumping my chest.
No.
I will meet many people and learn from them.
I will tell people my name is different.
Soon, I will be the wisp of stardust
Hovering in the void
Between here and there
Changing,
Yet staying absolutely the same.
I deem myself a traveler.
Eventually meeting the civilizations
That created my favorite words.
Maybe in a few years at my high school reunion
My old classmates will have kids to show their progress
And I will have the words and wisdom from a thousand cultures
And that will be enough,
For travel is the soul of me.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 1:46 AM UTC
Rose Tyler, Bad Wolf, blonde bombshell.
Through time with the Doctor she did propel.
She loved the Doctor and he loved her too.
If it's my last chance to say it,
Rose Tyler, I--
Jack Harkness, the flirt, the man of men.
He pops up at the Doctor now and again.
They met with a lie,
Now he can't die
Forever here now and then.
Martha Jones, the doctor, the woman that heals.
Her time in the TARDIS caused all kinds of feels.
She pointed a gun to save the Doctor's skin
Yet in the end, her and Mickey did win.
All kinds of fun and all kinds of sass.
Martha Jones, one badass.
Donna Noble, ah, how does one describe thee?
Married a creeper and set the Oods free.
Through the Daleks and Rose, it seemed to end the world
Until the Doctor's DNA and her's accidentally swirled.
Of all the companions, she was a supreme member
Most important woman in the universe,
Too bad she won't remember.
Of all the companions, no one remembers Ms. Astrid Peth.
Her one and only appearance ended in death.
She stowed away on the flying Titanic
With passengers, aliens, and angels that were satanic.
Astrid wanted to travel and see the stars.
Her death seemed to add to the Doctor's scars.
He wasn't able to bring her back in the flesh
For the Doctor was the cause of her final, last breath.
Finally we come to little Amelia Pond.
Waited twelve years for the Doctor's bond.
She sat on her suitcase, face raised to the stars
Thinking of Jupiter, Saturn, and Mars.
He came back when she was supposed to marry Rory
But she still snogged the Doctor, being predatory.
It was Amy and Rory Pond in the ends
Even when the stone angels did descend.
Some mainstream Whovians say Ms. Pond's overrated,
But after all, she was the girl who waited.
Melody Pond, also known as River Song
She was fair, cunning, and strong.
Amy's daughter, but looked years older.
Amy wouldn't believe her no matter what River told her.
River Song, a time lord herself.
But even her story went to the shelf.
She was put in jail for killing a good man.
But even then, with the Doctor she ran.
The Doctor and River, hands fastened tight.
She still didn't want to let go with all of her might.
Dr. Song and the Doctor were on different tracks in time.
Hopefully, she'll be back, witty, fierce, and sublime.
The mystery. All the loose ends come to Clara Oswald.
The latest companion to be installed.
She once was a woman, mind in a machine
But now she's in the flesh, cruising the scene.
Oswin Oswald was a governess and a barmaid
Until she came back, unashamed to be afraid.
Even though she is a mystery to be solved,
Here's to our angst, Ms. Oswin Oswald.
But one day all the companions will be gone
And the Doctor will be alone again.
He will think of all the lives he's withdrawn
Hoping for a lifelong friend.
Though his intelligence, sexiness, and brilliant mind
There are no other like him, he's the last of his kind.
The man who travels around kissing strangers;
The impossible doctor meeting some painters.
Many wonder how long he can cheat the clocks
But until then, he's just a madman with a box.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
I have never cared for syllable counting
Never for a unique form with misleading punctuation
My poems won't be constructed out of paradoxes
Metaphors will be scarce
I'm a straightforward person and
A straightforward writer
I see no problem in pouring my heart out
In the form of poetry and enjambments
For there is nothing quite as smooth
As the contents of my soul and mind.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
I have never jumped out at you from behind a wall.
I have never dressed as a ghoul
And stalked you throughout a dark house.
Never have I lent you a book
That I knew was going to scare you.
I would never threaten you with
The promise of something you'll miss.
So please, my dear
Tell me how have I ever scared you?
Did I frighten you with my sparkling joy?
Says the boy who cannot walk
Without the heavens clattering to the ground.
Did I startle you when I showed you myself?
When yourself isn't distinctively different?
Your habit of blaming other for your discomfort
Is simply an exoskeleton you hide in like a turtle.
Ducking your head in quick when there is
A slight tap on the ground or a
Rumble from the skies.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
If I could, I would give up a life of heavy breathing, tears, and late night television. I would give up all of the things that I have that nobody else has. I wish I could have been replaced with someone who needs a mother more than I or an education more than I or food more than I. Everyday, people die of things that they do not need to die from. Children die of cancer everyday and people who want nothing more than to be who they are, are prosecuted and thrown in cells, or assaulted with tear gas. I would give all of this up for someone who needs it more. I would willingly look death in the face for the sake of an innocent person. I would wither away to little more than bones, if it meant extending the life of a child who had never done anything to wrong the world. People are dying on the streets or being held against the outcome of a propaganda that was nothing more than wrong. People are coughing, hacking, sick, and bombed and I am here. I am sitting all well, enjoying life like I should be. Kids who have not yet wronged the world are dying and I am alive. I don't know if that makes me heroic or selfish.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 1:01 AM UTC