Everywhere I look now
I’m reminded of the past
When we were kids together,
And forever’s meant to last.
High school was that future thing
You thought you’d never reach
Now you’re there, so unprepared
It’s still hard to believe.
I thought I knew just what to do
But now my paths are crossed.
It used to be all fun and games,
And time was never lost.
No one asked these questions,
“What next? How not? Why me?”
It was all inside the moment,
We believed in who we’d be.
But now I take the SATs
In Physics, nonetheless
I finally beat forever
I never would have guessed.
Girls wear make up everyday
And “like” has turned to “love”
I miss the way it used to be,
I miss when we were young.
‘Cause children don’t take SATs
And children don’t regret
Kids rejoice in what they have,
And loving what they get.
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 3:17 PM UTC
I’ve lived a thousand moments
Upon a summer’s seam
Where shadows are abandoned
Behind a filtered dream
Winter’s gone and left a hole
We fill it up with flowers.
But every little child knows
First there come the showers.
There’s no crime in being different
But unique can be a risk
Summer love may taste real sweet
If you avoid the autumn kiss.
Truth is better left unfound
Among the uncut grass.
Ignorance is bliss, you know
But summer bliss can’t last.
A couple hundred moments more,
We’re freed in summer sun
The hands have frozen on the clock
It’s all over; yet it’s just begun.
Innocence, so pure and clean
When summer light first fell
Now ***** broken on the curb
In autumn wind; it’s just as well.
I’ve lived a thousand moments
Upon a summer’s seam
Waiting for the time to come
When nightmares leave the dream
Where hope and love are simple
And dreams are made of glass.
Each one is a summer’s gift,
But summer doesn’t last.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 11:03 AM UTC
She doesn’t like perfection.
Says it tastes like McDonald’s iced tea-
Sickly sweet and artificial.
That it looks like an over-starched shirt
worn by someone who hopes a professional appearance
will make up for their obvious lack
of preparation.
She doesn’t like going outside on cloudless days.
Apparently it’s like being caged
In a massive bubble.
She hates completely matched outfits,
because there are more important things
to waste time on.
She wears rain boots at the beach,
and flip flops in the rain.
She makes her sandwiches with the ends of the loaf
and makes sure to have an unequal ratio
of peanut butter to jelly.
She walks barefoot to dances,
and only wears makeup
when she’s not going out.
When I asked her why,
Why she didn’t like perfection,
She laughed upwards,
at the perfectly cloudless sky.
“Perfect,”
she said,
“has been done
too many times before.”
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 11:03 AM UTC
Sultry.
Heavy lidded.
Beckoning him in.
Parted lips in invitation.
Whispered promises behind red smiles
Perfumed wrists to draw them in.
With styled hair to keep them senseless
A subtle swing to the hips they love.
And finally a kiss to chain their thumping hearts.
But a promise made is not one kept
Hearts on a chain can be snapped
Suddenly, the whispered promises are gone.
Love never seemed so black
Easy give, easy take.
Beckoned him in.
Then left.
Broken.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC
Cinderella found the lock and key
Sleeping Beauty endured a curse to be free
Belle chose a man who hung on for a rose
Mulan didn’t give up though her heart nearly froze
Jasmine chose the one who lied to impress
Ariel sold her voice just to feel his caress
Anastasia lived when all was lost
Meg saved her hero at the ultimate cost
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 11:01 AM UTC
If I should have a son, someday
with thick, dark hair
And an easy smile
I will tell him, everyday,
that he is loved.
I will remind him every time
His knees strike the ground in defeat
that he is strong
and capable.
Every time he comes home
with a broken heart
that he won’t admit to
I will tell him he’s perfect.
If I have son
whose eyes sparkle mischievously
I will remind him, the best men
Got where they were not with tricks
But with hard, honest work
and he’ll smile cynically
like his father would
“Yeah, mom,” he’ll say
but I’ll only smile
Because I know he’ll remember.
If I have a son
who runs like the wind
And still aches to go faster
I will hand him over my pair of wings
And send him flying
And if he sings in the shower
And still aches to be heard
I will give him every whisper of my voice
Until he can shout across mountains
And if I have a son
I will hold his baby soft hands in mine
And tell him to keep those hands soft
And caring.
Like his father’s hands.
And I will brush his hair back
From the stubborn forehead
And kiss the crinkled brow.
If I have a son
I will tell him everyday
That he is a man.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 10:59 AM UTC
Sometimes, when I walk alone
My mind drudges up past mistakes
Past embarrassment, past awkwardness.
It replays them all in a reel
So as I try to escape one
Another rushes in to take its place.
And I start blushing uncomfortably
Even though I’m alone.
I remember them all,
My feet move faster
Like they’re trying to escape
All these barbed memories.
I want to erase them all,
Like that Spongebob episode
Where the drawing comes to life,
And Spongebob has to erase it
With a giant, high quality,
plastic-looking eraser.
If I took all these past awkward moments,
And embarrassments, and mistakes,
And wrote them down
On crisp, 11-by-8.5 college rule,
And watched them come back to life,
Could I erase them?
Forever?
Could I erase them,
With my giant
high quality,
plastic-looking eraser?
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 10:58 AM UTC
It tastes like peppermint
Smells like snow
Feels like sunshine in a garden row.
It teases like raindrops
And giggles like flame
It looks like a snowflake: it’s never the same
It whispers like willows
And sings like the wind
It hums like a rainstorm about to begin.
It flies like an eagle
It’s warm like the sun
It’s the promise of love that has barely begun.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 10:57 AM UTC
I will meet you at the end of your imagination
Where all your creativity has been used up
And the sky is white, and empty
And the grass stands stick straight in uniform
And the wind blows, but it moves nothing.
There, where everything is hopeless
And you’ve run out of time
And energy, and strength
And all you want to do is curl up
And block out the whiteness because you know
As hard as you try to stand
Nothing will change, it will all stay the same.
There, I will meet you.
And when I see you standing on the cliff
Overlooking the dead landscape
Of white, hopeless monotony
I will hand you a paintbrush
With bright orange paint.
And I will hold an identical one in my hand.
And the next time the wind that moves nothing blows
We will run with it, dragging our paintbrushes
We will paint the wind orange.
And everything it touches from then on
Shall be tinted with the burning of sunsets.
Then I will give you purple
And we will paint the trees
So every leaf that falls scatters the ground
With lush, seductive midnight.
Then the mountains will be red,
So when the snow from the tips melts
And runs down in furious rivers
The soil will absorb the fire and heat.
We will paint the grass and flowers blue
And let all their seeds scatter drops of sky
Across the landscape.
We will throw paint balloons of yellow
Up into the clouds
So when it rains, it is not water that falls
But tears of sunshine.
And then,
I shall take every color of the world,
The new world that we have painted
And I shall paint you like a rainbow,
So wherever you step
You spread more and more color.
And we will decorate the end of your imagination.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 10:56 AM UTC
Oh, love, you crazy thing
Pain you take and pain you bring.
Harsh honesty, that’s all you’ve ever been.
A brutal mirror of the hope within.
To love, to love, the poets cried
The beauty, the wonder, the glory inside
Oh god, to love, it’s the only desire!
That as if to say death is best by fire.
Ah, love, the sweet taste of spring
The blind man can see, the deaf man can sing.
But beware the storms of summer love
You can’t see the thunder that lurks above.
To love, to hope, to dream, to gain
Like summer snow or winter rain
One moment flawless, the next it’s gone
Forever never seemed so long.
Promise made and promise broke
The silent dread of newfound hope,
The kind you know will just be shattered
The promise never really mattered.
The beauty of the rose in bloom
That hides the thorns of lurking doom
To love, to love, to fly or fall
Tis better that, than not love at all.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 10:56 AM UTC