It would be awfully presumptuous and disrespectful of me
To assume
That I know and understand everything
(For even if I studied one thing for my entire life
I still wouldn't even come close
To knowing everything about that thing)
Or that I could fully understand you
(You and I
Are two different beings
With two very different viewpoints
And for me to assume
That I could see as you do
Would be quite ignorant)

However

It is equally presumptuous and disrespectful of you
To assume
That I am incapable of understanding and knowing
(In fact, I already know quite a bit:
I've been studying up
And though I'm still a beginner
And there are some things I don't quite get yet
I still understand a lot)
Or that you know everything about me
(Again, you and I
Are two different people
And I see things that you don't see
And for you to insist that you can read my mind
Would be the very definition of patronizing)

I do still love you
But things have been happening
This has to be done

Whatever this is
Its my problem and not yours
I won't drag you in

I hope you're okay
I know we're on good terms, but
I can't help this guilt

I am moving on
But the things this uncovered
Are just starting up

I came to a fork
In the one road I knew
A fork unlike others
I had already been through

On each pathway
Stood a strange being
I blinked, rubbing my eyes
Unsure of what I was seeing

I then heard a voice,
Like it came from within,
"How do you know
What is pure and what is sin?

How do you choose?
Are you swayed by the season?
Or are you guided by them,
By belif and by reason?"

Looking ahead of me
Through my internal mayhem
I saw my two guides
Who once worked in tandem

And I began to wonder:
"By whose law do I abide?"
As I thought, so continued
That voice spoke from inside

"In one road stands reason,
And the other, belif
And in this choice
One is your aide, the other a theif."

"So who do I choose?"
I shouted to implore
But that little voice
Left me alone as before

I looked to faith, standing right
Warm and light up ahead
She offered many answers
But claimed knowledge was too much for my head

I stared at reason, standing left
Crisp, clear, and easy to follow
But he offered no definates
Only peices to borrow

So there I stood
Trying to make my thoughts clear
Two full years later
And I still standing here

On the first day of junior year
I came to school to see
A video on students rights and responsibilities

On the second day of junior year
I came to school to see
Two miles of hallways
And a video on students rights and responsibilities

On the third day of junior year
I came to school to see
Three different lunch periods
Two miles of hallways
And a video on students rights and responsibilities

On the fourth day of junior year
I came to school to see
Four hallway monitors
Three different lunch periods
Two miles of hallways
And a video on students rights and responsibilities

On the fifth day of junior year
I came to school to see
Five different sports fields
Four hallway monitors
Three different lunch periods
Two miles of hallways
And a video on students rights and responsibilities

On the sixth day of junior year
I came to school to see
Six school police officers
Five different sports fields
Four hallway monitors
Three different lunch periods
Two miles of hallways
And a video on students rights and responsibilities

On the seventh day of junior year
I came to school to see
Seven student councelors
Six school police officers
Five different sports fields
Four hallway monitors
Three different lunch periods
Two miles of hallways
And a video on students rights and responsibilities

On the eighth day of junior year
I came to school to see
Nine school principals
Seven student councelors
Six school police officers
Five different sports fields
Four hallway monitors
Three different lunch periods
Two miles of hallways
And a video on students rights and responsibilities

On the ninth day of junior year
I came to school to see
Over thirty clubs
Nine school principals
Seven student councelors
Six school police officers
Five different sports fields
Four hallway monitors
Three different lunch periods
Two miles of hallways
And a video on students rights and responsibilities

On the tenth day of junior year
I came to school to see
Hundreds of badly labeled classrooms
Over thirty clubs
Nine school principals
Seven student councelors
Six school police officers
Five different sports fields
Four hallway monitors
Three different lunch periods
Two miles of hallways
And a video on students rights and responsibilities

On the eleventh day of junior year
I came to school to see
Over four hundred teachers
Hundreds of badly labeled classrooms
Over thirty clubs
Nine school principals
Seven student councelors
Six school police officers
Five different sports fields
Four hallway monitors
Three different lunch periods
Two miles of hallways
And a video on students rights and responsibilities

On the twelfth day of junior year
I came to school to see*
Four thousand, five hundred and twenty-eight students
Over four hundred teachers
Hundreds of badly labeled classrooms
Over thirty clubs
Nine school principals
Seven student councelors
Six school police officers
Five different sports fields
Four hallway monitors
Three different lunch periods
Two miles of hallways
And a video on students rights and responsibilities

She's terror and beauty and logic and grace
She looks around time and dances through space
She's academia and nature, the books and the trees
Trapped in a loop, yet eternally free
She understands others but is her own girl
She respects others but lives in her own world
She doesn't start fights but she sure as he'll finishes them
She wonders where she's going and where she's been
She's knowledge and truth, justice, beauty, and love
She is the philosopher, living here, looking above

Under water colored lilacs
The water colors the world
Running along her driveway
The rain comes along and runs down
Through the mist she runs out
To see if the paperboy missed

There's a version of me
Who's smart, pretty, and strong
But she only exists in my mind
In the midst of stories and songs

Life brings us into this world
With no say on our part
And no indication
Of what happens afterwards

Life brings us into this world
Having us just conscious enough
To know that we have no idea
Of our purpose
Or our fate
And having us care just enough
To be terrified and frustrated by that

If you ask me,
Life, or whoever invented it,
Is an *******

The tryant rises over the city
The crowd's minds in wiped obedience
The free-people's prince flees swiftly
His savior anonymously leads him in silence

The elder, masked and cloaked, leads,
Thorns following around him,
the child Prince through the weeds
To hiding on the cliff's rim

Twelve years in the mountain
A youthful wolf looks over the river
Thinking he surely would've been slain
Had the king of thorns been any less swifter

In Poland, a young Jewish girl plays with a ball near her house
not seeing the Gestapo riding in on trucks

In Japan, a boy plays with a butterfly-shaped kite
not seeing the impending fallout over the city center

In Nanking, a girl plays dress-up with her sister's old dress
not seeing the army outside of the city

In Hawaii, a boy runs along the beach, jumping in and out of the waves
not seeing the bombers over the nearby harbor

In Ethiopia, a girl and her mother walk home from a friend's house
not seeing the yellow-green cloud advancing

In London, a boy races his friends through the streets
Not seeing the bombers overhead

In Vietnam, a girl looks over her family's farm
Not seeing the troops in the jungle

In Syria, a girl and her older sister walk to get water
Not seeing the fighters moving in

Somwhere in this world, a child is living happily
Not seeing the terrible change ahead.

She speaks in rhyme
Cadence keeping with time
Her words flow out in verse
Creating a universe
Her mind builds sculptures
That reflect while cultures
Her gaze can amass
Ideas for a canvas
She knows stories by rote
She never misses a note
She creates upon what she veiws
Artists, she's your muse

I attempt to pay attention to the events
But no mater how hard I try
I understand sports as well as
A penguin trying to fly

But I really do love this event
That comes once every four years
Because with all that goes on in the world
Global cooperation like this is music to my ears

She marched forward
In her feline gait
Four ears laid back
Wings slightly unfurling
Tail curling and relaxing like a wave
As she shone beneath the moonlight and cameras
Dark skin and white curls making her seem like a star in her own right
Like those reflected in her sterling pupils

And, before the crowd
Of militaresi and the police
She raised her head to the skies
And sung in the manner
That a wolf howls
Or a jay chirps:
Without cessation
Letting her spirit out
Moving as the song dictated
Not giving a **** that she
(Given that she lyricized for two hours)
Looked like a madwoman
As she sung
About love and heartbreak
About loyalty and betrayal
About friends and enemies
Nature and nurture
Justice and crime
Monsters and men

She sung with no era
No race
No species
No planet
She sung as a person
Dangerously close to the edge
The same place she had been all of her life

And when she stopped
The universe was dead silent
With awe and confusion
As she slipped into the sea
Of a slave revolt

We
Poets
Are by far
The strangest ones
The ones who see rhyme
Where others just see pain
The ones who find darkness where
Others ignore it for the light
The ones who write unabashedly
And yet are still afraid to be themselves
The ones who are childlike in our intentions
But by far more mature in our thoughts and our means
We have to be this way, because being a poet
Is being strange and paradoxical, like life and death

One had months of surgery on her knees
But she still stays active anyways

Another is in a hospital for anorexia
But she cooks like a TV chef anyways

One goes to therapy for her anxiety
But she runs for class president anyways

She has overwhelming depression
But she jokes around and parties anyways

She has all of the problems that being bisexual brings
But she makes friends and loves anyways

These are just some of the girls in my scout troop
And I'll remember them, always

You keep asking me
"Why did you quit that class?"
Its been five years
And yet you all still ask

I have always said
"They kept changing the laboratory
I could never find the class."
But that's only half of the story

The other half of my tale
And the one much closer to truth:
The location wasn't such a hard mystery
I just stopped being a seluth

Because after a while I stopped
Even trying to look for the club
At that time I began
To stop caring about when it started up

See, at that time I began
To lose intrest in many things
I honestly would've flown away from there
If I just had a pair of wings

So the real reason I stopped
Ever showing up to that class
Was that, in the end, I stopped caring
Wether or not I would pass

There's a memory of a long time ago
Or was it a dream? How could I know
It's not as if I could ask you as to wether it's true
As if there were anything asking could do
But than I think of the shouting and it seems
Real enough to run from, to want to cry or scream

Was it really a laptop, or was it a plate
That was thrown against the wall, irate
Or maybe the whole thing never really happened
Maybe I misheard something, I was mistaken
Besides, it was nine years ago, I was too young
To even really realize what was going on
But even back then, I knew I was frightened
When I heard a crash before the fight ended

And some days I wonder if I would feel this way
If it was the man doing this to the woman one day
You're against abuse, and try to call out wife beaters
But you applaud a girl who whacks a guy when he cheats her
And I wonder why, if you say you care
Why you sometimes say things that make me wish I weren't there

And I wonder why you don't respect my space
Walking up to my form like you own the place
And I know you mean well, but could you stop
Sneaking up and hugging me in a way I'd rather not
I know you have good intentions, but why can't you see
That there's a reason I'm starting to get a little jumpy

But these are the things I'll never ask
Because I'm to spineless to find out at last
So here I sit, writing an interwebs litany
With a secret profile on a site you'll never see

Nations rise and nations fall
The great trade places with the small
Those countries which rise above them all
Have the greatest distance to fall

Cold hands, warm heart means
I have an instant ice pack
Wherever I go

I don't mind the rain
Sixty degrees and misty
Is perfect weather

People know about
Corned beef and Guinness, but not
The lamb stews and tea

Long walks are the best
Both medieval city streets
And grassy green hills

And I know that there
Is a definite difference
In types of tubers

These quizes offer no insights
Onto what "my perfect college" could be like
And how the (word that rhymes with duck)
Am I supposed to get seventy thousand bucks

I rubbed a lamp, like the stories
The genie inquired of my wish
Pausing for half a second, I said
"My first wish is to be fearless."

My second wish, I made days later
Making sure I could come up with the right phrase
I told the bottled phantom "I wish
For acceptance and peace through man's race."

For my third and final wish
From this realm of infinities
I asked that I could have the power
To travel anywhere that I please

I aspire to be
Both brave and smart
To have the wit of a fox
And a thundering heart

I yearn to become
Both kind and tough
The girl who's nice
But doesn't mind being rough

I wish I were
What I aspire to be
But the path to my goal
Is one I can't see

The roaring storm's sky
Can make the ground shake
When thunder comes by
It makes the earth quake

A hot, humid hill overseeing a river
Beautiful as heaven, but don't try to be a swimmer
Tons of wildlife, but a poisonous dinner

A country close by but so far away
Traffic alone makes up half of the day
For those who want room but not time to play

Museums galore and libraries for all
Most of America's internet is held a few miles off the mall
But the most desired information is behind cash and legal walls

Come a D.C. summer you'll be thunderstruck
Being able to live here costs all your luck
You'll need enough cash to buy food to fill a truck
The best places in town don't cost a buck

Life is like
A buret of acid
In a high school lab

It slowly drips away, imperceptibly at first
But then it's suddenly gone

Sometimes, a careless student
Will unhinge the stopcock completely
And the life will pour out quickly

Sometimes, someone will be clumsy
And knock the buret from the stand
Breaking it in the middle
And the life will drain out
All at once
Spattering all over the counter

And in the end
Wether the reaction was magnificent
Or mundane
Those around the buret will take note
Write up their lab reports
And the buret will be one of the many
Random memories
Of a class and year
That passed too quickly

Well, this year was far crazier than the last
That's okay 'cause I brought my fight in full blast
After twelve months, the problems are yet to go
But in the face of it all, the strength and support did grow
And it was rough, some months it was hell
But I made it through like a wint'ry cold spell
I came, I saw, I did become
Save the vici for later; I'm nowhere near done

If you think  dropping things in the toilet is icky
Never ever drop something in a camp's biffy

The librarians
Identify me as a
Regular guest, now

U.S. history
Is just like I remember:
I know most of this

Physics is okay
It seems easy now, but I
Know it will get hard

Sociology
Is pretty awesome so far
And its so easy

Lunch was good enough
I got some time to read and
Catch up with a friend

Two boys ran back in
I asked them what had happened
"We just stabbed a guy"

The class average was
Sixty four percent on a
Spanish three pretest

The bus back was loud
But I didn't mind because
My music was on

When I was a small child
I was no lady fair and mild
I was the princess of the wild
As by tree climbing I was beguiled

I didn't like pink princess sets
Sports were something I couldn't get
I climbed everywhere, even playgrounds that were wet
And I loved proving kids wrong on a bet

As I grew into the girl I became
Some things changed, some stayed the same
I love all sorts of clothes, made for both gents and dames
And my boyish reaction to crushes is still my bane

Gatsby's lost love was green
Your crush is bright blue
But I have definitely seen
What it means to both of you

And I really hate
To be a critic of dreams
But when momens abate
There's less chance than there seems

So please slow down, old sport
I've seen this story before
Please don't tell her that retort
When you walk out of the door

I'm looking above me
Up into the sky
And thinking about the distance
Between you and I

I'm looking around me
At my pictures with you
And wondering what
Is the right thing to do

I'm looking within me
To see what I can find
Hoping our future
Can be found in my mind

Dear C,
For the last week
I've been feeling down
I didn't believe anything
And no conclusions could be found
And all I could think
is " what if life has no meaning?
what if the universe just wastes space?
what's the meaning of the human race?"

But somehow
inexplicably
listening to you rant on the bus home
about how your Harvard-trained substitute
"Can't ******* teach"
somehow
unexplainably
made my day
a little brighter
and pushed the system in my mind out
like the month-long rainstorm that just ended yesterday
I guess listening to someone vent
when you feel pent up
can make you feel a little more free

so thank you

Why do you insist
On insulting my friends
I'm wondering if the complaints
Will ever end

When will you stop
Mocking and making fun of
The celebrities and characters
Whom I follow and love

And I understand that
You have your own point of view
And you wouldn't like them
But I am not you

And I understand that
You might just need to blow air
But your comments leave me wondering
If you really even care

Because what if I agreed
With them more than you
What if I had traits in common with them
Then what would you do

Would you still accept me
Just as I am
Or would you turn me away
Like a criminal on the lamb

I used to only wear skinny jeans
Even if it were hotter than it seemed
Then puberty hit
And I had to quit
'Cause my hips aren't nearly as lean

To the new poet who wishes to be wise:
Keep your work out of sight of unwelcome eyes

To the poet first trying to find rhymes:
Give it a moment, you'll think of them in time

To the poet whose night is their day:
Just write down what's harder to say

To the poets whom I know as my friends:
Let's write until the universe ends

Twenty more weeks of high school in all
Twenty more weeks of this ****
It's only 'till June
Let's hope it comes soon
Twenty more weeks of high school in all

"Ugh, I'm so tired
I haven't showered in forever
I'm hot and thirsty
And my legs hurt so much"

Walking next to her
I replied
"I can't feel any of that
I'm so tired
That I'm only vaugely aware
Of a tingling ache in my feet
And some blurriness in my eyes occasionally."

She laughed and said that I had transcended

I said to her
"If this is transcendence, it kind of *****"

Why has the word "trigger" become such a joke
Why do you giggle about it with your blokes
Why is it that you joke about it thoughtlessly
Frightening those affected away from the help they need

You say that your friends
Can find a welcoming ear
In their time of need

But I know
Of hundreds of shouting matches
Half as many protested more-than-hugs
Days in and out of manipulation and deceit on both sides
Years of saying "you have no right to feel that way"
Many doged questions
Minutes shouting down every expression that you disproved of
Several iterations of "you'll die alone"
Days and nights hidden in offside rooms for fear
A few good slaps
And a laptop against the wall at age eight
That all demand to differ

Two minutes of time
Just to find a rhyme
In a student's mind
Reading of punishment and crime
Now when will my time come
Where did it all go
Graduation's almost here
And what do I even know
I've been counting down the years
Since I've entered middle school
Now I'm counting down the weeks
And saying it'll be soon
And before the bell rings
Before time is called
I can just pen in a poem
Before I hit the fall

I keep telling myself to wait
Wait for another two years
Years have passed yet little has
Has anything changed at all?
All of my life has turned upside down
Down the line will I regret this?
This is who I want to be now
Now I must wait to be independent
Independent and free and myself
Myself, personally, I'm just confused
Confused about who I am
*Am I what I should be?

Yo creo que es
Un poco tanto
Que Cortés
No fui cortes
A las Aztecas