Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
zjamiee
my thoughts / life through my eyes
I am from         waking up at 5 a.m.         and making my dad pour me a glass         of chocolate milk and put in         the Tom & Jerry VCR tape. I am from         the years spent on stage         performing, acting, dancing,         making music from the keys and strings of instruments         that I have since abandoned. I am from         the technology that shaped me,         which I cannot live without-         the shows and movies and games; staying up,         the bright screen of my laptop glaring against the darkness of my room. I am from         crying until my eyes are red and raw,         happy and sad and laughing tears         from the deaths and lives and breakups and reunions         of the characters and shows I will never forget. I am from         lying in my bed         listening to the music that has healed me,         blaring in my ears         and against the four walls that enclose me. I am from         the places I’ve been-         from La Jolla to Lancaster to Boston and Nanjing,         to the places I wish to go-         from Sydney to Quebec to Venice and Chicago. I am from         homework and studying and tests,         and homework and studying and tests.         Yearning for college since middle school,          to be around people who crave knowledge, too. I am from         Modus Ponens and Modus Tollens and Disjunctive Syllogism,         and memorizing fallacies and philosophy arguments at 8 a.m.,         the course that challenged me beyond my limits,         the course that introduced me to my favorite place in the world. I am from         my home away from home-         lying on the grass of the quad,         dancing beneath the stars         to the Canon, the soundtrack of my youth. I am from         the memories I hold         within polaroids and photos behind screens,         within songs and books and between the lines         of the poems that I have bled from my heart onto paper. I am from         my previous and continuing attempts to escape this town,         and the meaningless interactions within the cold halls of highschool;         trying to find the people who will become my people         and the places I will call home.                                                                                          j.z.
0
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
5 a.m.
I am from         waking up at 5 a.m.         and making my dad pour me a glass         of chocolate milk and put in         the Tom & Jerry VCR tape. I am from         the years spent on stage         performing, acting, dancing,         making music from the keys and strings of instruments         that I have since abandoned. I am from         the technology that shaped me,         which I cannot live without-         the shows and movies and games; staying up,         the bright screen of my laptop glaring against the darkness of my room. I am from         crying until my eyes are red and raw,         happy and sad and laughing tears         from the deaths and lives and breakups and reunions         of the characters and shows I will never forget. I am from         lying in my bed         listening to the music that has healed me,         blaring in my ears         and against the four walls that enclose me. I am from         the places I’ve been-         from La Jolla to Lancaster to Boston and Nanjing,         to the places I wish to go-         from Sydney to Quebec to Venice and Chicago. I am from         homework and studying and tests,         and homework and studying and tests.         Yearning for college since middle school,          to be around people who crave knowledge, too. I am from         Modus Ponens and Modus Tollens and Disjunctive Syllogism,         and memorizing fallacies and philosophy arguments at 8 a.m.,         the course that challenged me beyond my limits,         the course that introduced me to my favorite place in the world. I am from         my home away from home-         lying on the grass of the quad,         dancing beneath the stars         to the Canon, the soundtrack of my youth. I am from         the memories I hold         within polaroids and photos behind screens,         within songs and books and between the lines         of the poems that I have bled from my heart onto paper. I am from         my previous and continuing attempts to escape this town,         and the meaningless interactions within the cold halls of highschool;         trying to find the people who will become my people         and the places I will call home.                                                                                          j.z.
Continue reading...
56
At age six, she was scared of the the monsters under her bed. At age ten, she was scared that she wouldn't fit in. At age fourteen, she was scared of the monsters in her head. At age sixteen, she was scared that the boy she “loved” didn’t love her back. At age eighteen, she was scared that she wouldn't get into college. At age twenty-two, she was scared that she couldn't pay her bills. And at age twenty-six, she was scared that she had finally grown up. j.z.
0
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
now you understand why Peter Pan didn't want to grow up (Monsters)
Realization. That I don’t belong, here in the town           with these people. I used to dread the thought of leaving, I used to not be able to let go. But now, I don’t care. I’ll leave           anyday                anytime. They won't care, none of them will. Maybe a “bye, I'll miss you”        or a “come visit soon”                 here and there. But soon I'll fade from their minds, and they'll forget about me. Like I was never even here. But I don't care. Realization. Of how much I hate this town           and these people. Realization. That they don't care about me                         never did                         never will. If I leave, or if I stay. So maybe I'll go, to Boston, or New York or Tennessee or even California. j.z.
0
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
boston, or new york, or tennessee, or even california.
If you’re happy, then you're the lucky ones. If you don’t think of death day after day, then you're the lucky ones. If you have someone that loves you back, then you're the lucky ones. If you can feel your heartbeat inside your chest, then you're the lucky ones. Because the rest of us, we’re dead inside. We’re the sad ones and the lonely ones. We're the ones that cry ourselves to sleep at night. We're the ones that dread life day after day. We're the ones that watch you, jealous that you're not us.                                     j.z.
0
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
lucky ones
Do I want to know, the things you think and the things you say about me? do you ever miss me, or do you not even care? Do I want to know, if you hate me or if you even like me? have you ever wanted me, or was I nothing to you? Do I want to know, the thoughts you think in bed at night? are they dark and painful or do you rest peacefully? Do I want to know, what is going on in that mind of yours? that complicated, beautiful, mind of yours?                                                                    j.z.
0
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
Do I Want to Know?