laura-15
My favourite poem is Jabberwocky, although 'You have the Lovers' by Leonard Cohen would have to come a near second. In Junior High School, I had to memorize Dulce et Decorum Est and can still recite it word for word. I do not like to proofread or rework my poems after i've written them (which might show at times :) I just vomit them out fully formed, pat them on the head, wish them luck, and send them to make their own way in the world - like a mommy robbin shoving her chicks out of the nest. I'm not sure why I write poems, I just always have. At times I have been very suprised at the reactions and word combinations I get out of myself, so it could be classified as a learning experience. / / Cheers! / / Laura
**** you -- beautiful art
there is no such thing
as anything other than
- beautiful art-
although i'm sure some one will try to tell somebody
that they just don't get it.
every single time that our
collection of
chemicals
and echoes of cell memories
build sums of bigger experiences
that must be expressed for
a higher reason than
reason.
where the drive is not
to conquer or accomplish
anything but understanding,
within our environment of fellow reactions
and cell memories
- any expression from our amazing collaboration
of chemicals, and natural laws
and faith
and trust
and pixie dust
is beautiful and unique
**** you - beautiful art.
Feb 18, 2011
Feb 18, 2011 at 7:30 PM UTC
everything has the potential to be ridiculous
- even your pain.
this you must accept
and then,
the terrible is only
ungainly and awkward,
a bad storyteller
in a squiggly dr. seuss adventure-scape,
full of ears and fascinated minds.
Jan 2, 2011
Jan 2, 2011 at 3:36 PM UTC
and here is my body,
and my body is comfortable, dry, and warm.
and here is my flesh,
nourished with delicious foods, and clean waters
and here is my soul in turmoil
turning this way and that
to face today and tomorrow and yestereday's challenges
but i am strong, and will overcome my emotions
and here is music,
and sunshine,
and beauty,
and kindness.
and today i met a good person,
and tomorrow i will meet another.
why should i feel unhappy?
that is a temporary condition,
not me -
not my state.
i am free,
and i will soar.
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 8:48 PM UTC
extinct.
in random acts of
trampled logic -
fierce and fiery senses.
clutch
these memories of bliss and salt
- tears -
or sweat?
hazy and erratic
i will cling to them.
nurse them into a bright and
- sparkling! -
youth.
with no dull colors
and only dreams to eat.
Apr 11, 2010
Apr 11, 2010 at 9:36 PM UTC
Whether the silent elation
exists in your day to day
is irrelevant
to your idle hands
and flickering gaze.
Whether happiness exists in the rustling leaves
or a primitive, driving beat -
Should matter,
but it shouldn't decide.
The sparkling realm,
the beautiful assertion
that you ARE.
Feb 18, 2010
Feb 18, 2010 at 11:43 AM UTC
I can't be bothered to be your princess today - maybe tomorrow.
Today I think I would rather exist as an idea.
Oriented this way, and that
to point directly at the centre of my own sun.
Present fluctuating
with the ebb and flow
of passion and disinterest.
A colorless, careless moon
one big eye glares
down on my escapades (or lack thereof)
disdainfully amused.
Look at the ants scurry -
watch those monkeys dance!
And her;
watch her feeling empty and inadequate,
fiery with pride,
giddy with laughter.
Why should it matter to me?
I am too far to reach,
too cold to carress.
I have seen the crowded space -
Stars vying for a chance to rub up against celestial bodies.
it's a matter of perspective.
And look! see the moons' precision;
watch it wax and wane.
Does it touch me?
why should I care.
Feb 17, 2010
Feb 17, 2010 at 7:39 AM UTC
i want to bury your roses
before they become too real
- before they realize that they have been
murdered
and begin to decay
untethered
and stinking of age
and loss
and grayness
i want to press your muzzy
sleep-warm kisses
in a cheesy paperback
- bodice ripper
so they cannot evaporate
into the commute
of my soul to yours
and only lie
innocent and wondering
at the juncture
of where we will meet
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 9:49 AM UTC
If you think for a moment
that I don't care for your smile
Let me apologize.
My face doesn't always match my heart.
Selfish though I am
my thoughts tug me towards
a quiet glen
a sanctuary of lush greens and -
a profusion of exotic comforts
to enjoy with you.
Always with you.
Feb 8, 2010
Feb 8, 2010 at 4:25 PM UTC
This.
this moment,
before the now gives over
to cobwebs and dusty pleasures.
This opportunity.
Presently unwrapped,
spirals wasted into the breathtaking dawn.
Now
with the hideous cawing
and honest sunshine
stand bare,
and tell me that you have no regrets.
Feb 8, 2010
Feb 8, 2010 at 4:09 PM UTC
I disappeared today,
transparent ambitions
recreated with the gentle tickle of a paint brush
gliding over my skin.
Deft, sure strokes leave no room for argument.
This is you,
I have made you again.
A beatiful piece of art to hang
in some long, echoing hallway.
You may look, but you must never touch.
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 7:05 AM UTC