I wonder what chocolate rain would taste like.
Would it fall from chocolate clouds?
And after it dried, would it leave a thick sweet brown coat on the world?
I wonder if my secret love loves me.
Would he ever want to hold me and caress my cheek?
Kiss and touch me as I would him?
I wonder what would happen if I lit the world on fire.
Would anybody notice?
Or think it was a new quirk of nature to ignore?
I wonder if the sun shines more dimly than yesterday.
Would it even be measureable?
I wonder how long we can last, and if an apocalypse would **** us all.
Would there not be a survivor?
Would there not be a fight for life?
I wonder if there is or was a god, and if so, for how long?
Would he create himself?
Could god even have a ***?
I wonder if this world is a construct.
Perhaps a mental image stuck in space?
But if so, whose of?
I wonder if a butterfly flapping it's wings in China truly creates geographic ruin here.
And if so, on what scale?
I wonder if what we do in this world truly affects our afterlife, or if that even exists.
Will this compilation, this assembly of words make any impact on anyone's life?

My tinkling clattering bracelets
You provide such interesting theme music for my
For my daily wanderings through life
Chiming as small bells do
Clinking together as I shift my hands
Subtle movements and quiet sounds
A flow of water over you
Merely adds to the harmony
A quick **** of my arm
A jolt from being pushed
And the music adjusts accordingly
The same movement gives rise
To the same chords
Yet the meaning changes for
Every single moment of life

It's funny how people tell me I'm strong, tough
Independent
But some things make me so weak
My will breaks easily and I fall
I'm not talking about physical weakness
Nor any type of physiological frailty
My mind and heart are the problem
And sometimes I wonder
Were the tinman and scarecrow wrong?
True, there is benefit in having a heart
And yes, a mind has much to offer
But the heart remembers you
The mind aches with pain
And I'm tired of being broken
I know I can be sweet
Kindness is little problem
But does one need a heart to be kind?
Perhaps its absence would suit me better
And if I think, I think so often of the past
What could have been, what might have been
And I think(hah think) that maybe
Losing my mind wouldn't be so bad
So tell me heart, and you also mind
What is your great redeeming quality?
I'm dying to know

I'm a hunk of flesh
A few pieces of calcium deftly placed
Tubes, fluids, electricity
Gasses, elemental compounds and chemicals
I sound more like a science project
Than a person
Grey sponge in a skeletal bowl
Completes the blueprint
This is **** sapiens

I woke up this morning and felt like doing some cutting
Just for the heck of it.
I didn't, if only because I had no reason
I had no time
I made two promises,
And with them, I never lie.
Got up, dressed, finished a project due by 2:30
Before school starts my brother comes down
Scale in hand, telling me to get on so he can see if he weighs more
Always wanting to be taller, weigh more
So I can be his 'little sister'
I sigh, step on. Expecting my usual of 90-92
86
Freak out mode: on.
I forgot to eat properly over the last 24 hours, maybe that's it
I only got 5 hours of sleep the last 2 nights, maybe that's it
I've been really stressed by school, maybe that's it
Almost time to go and somehow I still can't eat, I don't want to.
I need to though.
Let me explain this: I normally weigh about 92 pounds
95 is what I should weigh
I need to gain weight anyway, but high metabolisms don't like that
So usually I am 3 pounds underweight
Today it was about 10.
Go to school, should eat but don't want to
Standing, waiting, anticipating what?
Hand my friend three cookies, I tell the group my problem
One cookie handed back(other two previously eaten)
Told to eat by four friends, too hard to explain why I can't eat
Numerous reminders to eat
Lunch: I'm handed some chicken nuggets, ice cream
Half jokingly threatened that I won't be talked to unless I eat
Begged to eat
Strangely: I have no such desire
I have minimal amounts of body fat(less than 10 percent)
But even so, I can feel weight missing,
The absence of my already flat belly, surreal to think about
I still don't feel like eating, not really hungry
No other explanation
Friend tells me to pig out when I get home
Quiz bowl after school and I'm only ever so slightly hungry
But not much
A friend steals my gym shoes, mom comes
At home I eat some butter and honeyed toast, tea, candied ginger, half a thing of crackers
Report to friend # 2 who then proceeds to command me to eat more, and interrogates on why I'm not eating
Tell friend # 1 as well, his approval expressed
Dinner and afterwards I only feel hungrier... so strange.
I check the scale again
89
Better, but still too low.
I need to work on this...

I’ve been told that my tongue is flirty,
And not only that but it’s wordy.
But try to put on a yoke
And I’ll laugh at this joke,
For my tongue will always be *****.

Poor kitty cat, crazy dazed cheshire cat
Thinks by offing the parents
The offspring offed will be
So scratches both the top and roots
Of this family tree
This disillusioned kitty cat
Can't seem to understand
That by scratching a leg
You do not bite a hand
This addled backwards kitty
Has much to learn these days
And harsh admonitions
This ***** do not faze

I think I figured out why I don't like pencils
They have advantages, I admit
I draw a hundred times better with them
And write fifty times neater than with
My usual plethora of pens
The colors and textures of the ink
Only a small part of my reason
I think I don't like pencils because they are
Impermanent
And smudge too easily
Ink only smudges when wet, and soft
Then it bleeds color all over the white expanse
It is set on
Inks and graphite, they don't mix in my head
The graphite is always too grey for me
Too dull when I use it
The inks give me the paint of gods
To shower in bold all that I deign to
And then pencils wear down,
Far too quickly for my hand
I need to scribble fast and hard
The pen stands much more solidly
And for me the pencil is too subtle and gentle
Not nearly enough vivacity

Cheese
Simply fermented
Curds and whey, minus the whey
Fantastic with meat
And fruit
And bread
Creamy, sweet, and soft
Or
Sharp , hard, and strong
Fancy, or plain
Expensive, artisan, specialised
Cheap, processed, conformed
Cheesey, cheesey, cheese

Inspiration is a fickle muse
A touchy maid
A picky flirt
Tempting the artist and author
Flicking a tendril of light
In your direction so it
Barely brushes the mind
Enough to see that it's genius
But not enough to see what it is
So many lose this tickle of an idea
But a few are prepared
Armed with papers and pens
Walls and paints
Stone and chisel
They scribble and splash and carve it
As best they can and then refine
Shape and sculpt to better suit
Their idea of perfection
So that the same tendril may touch thirty
But only ten capture it
And none in the same manner

Picture this:
I'm walking on the boardwalk
In New Orleans
On Christmas Eve
I've got
Nikes on my feet
Beignets in my hand
Smartphone in my pocket
The memory of my mum handing a 20 to a funny street magician
And a really nice home to visit in
When I pass a group of the homeless
Five or six or so, and they're all talking
Half have signs asking for help
As I pass by, one man, not too old and quite young in fact
This man, he looks up, sharpie etched cardboard in hand
Knees drawn to chest
Hair touseld, generally disheveled appearance
Our eyes lock and he says
In the most meaningful and sincere way possile
Have a very Merry Christmas
By instinct, I flash a smile
And then I hope he noticed
And hope he knew I meant it.
I felt so quietly sober afterwards
Walking in complete meditiation
On those five words
The man had so little
And yet he gave me a wish

you're the boxspring billionaire of feel-good
saving up your love for a rainy year,
scrounging and saving every fleeting smile and shallow kiss and
miserly, hunched over with the weight of your own suffering and despair,
each scrapped-together pile of crumpled-from-your-pockets shreds of I.O.U.s and featherlight touches.
too afraid to leap and risk, you'll never grow or invest your affections into the stocks of Lisa and George LLC, or Francis and Kelly Inc.
so your love is bound to crumble into fragile dust, the fruits of your labours withering into mouldy piles of seed, stem, and flesh.
the could-have-been and might-have-grown dying, before even living to flourish and erupt into glorious blooms of the strikingly ethereal and otherworldy.
but not for you, not ever for you.
you're the boxspring billionaire of feel-good
and you'll burn before planting your love.

Ich will frei sein
Ich will mit Vogel fliegen
Ich will die Sterne küssen
Ich will Gedicht über alles schreiben
Ich will mit die Engeln leben
Aber kann ich nur jetzt schlafen
Aber werde ich nur jetzt traümen

I want to be free
I want to fly with birds
I want to kiss the stars
I want to write poems about everthing
I want to live with the angels
But I can only sleep now
But I will only dream now

Hurricane fighter
Life and death celebrator, Spicy food eater
Street performer and Harborer of ships
Weather-beaten, resilient, colorful
The City that Care Forgot

They tell me you are beaten, *****, and old, and I acknowledge this, having seen your streets and limping buildings, water-marked and sagging
They tell me you are cruel and dark, and I agree, I've seen the voodoo shops, and the papers speaking of crimes
They tell me you are raucous and crowded, and I respond, "Yes, I know. I have walked through her streets and through the ear shattering sound"

And having said these things, I look again to those who ridicule my home, my city and tell them:
I dare you to bring me news of another place that's been beat down, and yet time after time rises again, singing even in death and anguish, wearing the dingy but bright colors of life

Laughing in the face of defeat, walking proud, and even as its guts tear each other apart, she sets her jaw and keeps moving forward
Fierce as a gator grappling with a hunter, clever and bright as a bird
Battered,
Falling,
Flying,
Soaring,
Hurting, healing, grinning
Beneath the ******, dirt smeared face, she smiles with a brilliant grin
Beneath the harsh reality of injuries and setbacks, fire dances in her heart and soul
Dancing even as a wizened soldier knowledgeable in pain but carefree would
Twisting and spinning over and around obstacles, taking the occasional hit, laughing in the ***** air, lifeblood of the city coursing through her veins
Dancing!
Laughing the weather-beaten, resilient, colorful laugh of Youth. Proud to be a Hurricane fighter
Life and death celebrator, Spicy food eater Street performer, Harborer of ships,
The City that Care Forgot

You are the music while the music lasts,
If it can flow through your body
If you let it surge out of your mouth and fingertips
Then allow it to explode from your soul
Or coax it to whisper from your lips
The music will dance for you like a charmed snake
Caress the ears and minds of your audience
And open the eyes of their hearts.
For music is emotion put into sound,
Inducing tears and laughter, smiles and sympathy
And you know, no matter how you sing,
Even if you hit a few sour notes,
It only matters that you feel the music.
So long a as you feel it, enjoy it, let it overcome you
The music will make itself great.
And after you fall from the trance, back into the real world,
After the last notes and chords leave your instrument,
If your audience silently pauses before suddenly exploding in applause and cheers,
You know you have done well.
Just let it fill your bones.

As a teenager who writes poetry
I get some weird reactions
I’m sure some people who hear I write poetry think
Oh my god, another teenager writing angsty poems
Then they read my poetry and think otherwise
How can I not write of the beauty and sunshine of life?
Of love?
Of happiness?
Like everyone I have down days
But those pass in due time
My dark poetry can’t last long
Not in my mind

Cold. Distant. Lonely.
How am I supposed to explain to you how I feel when I don't even know?
When you have a girlfriend, but you still comfort me and soothe my self-doubt?
When we walk and converse together every day and I feel like I know you, but I don't know you?
Am I supposed to traverse this path alone, or with you, or with someone else?
It's fall and it's getting cold, so I need you to cloak me in your warmth and wrap me in your arms to shield me from the elements and my loneliness.
There is a dance tomorrow that I want to go to with you to, but all I've got is a field trip while your girlfriend is on both of our minds.
I just need an embrace, a touch, a physical sensation to tell me you care about me.
You and I and our friends know that she's the kind of girl who will break your heart, rip your already fragile and many times mended heart to throbbing, aching, weeping pieces.
Our friends try to play matchmaker, and I play a different game with the same objective.
How can you not see that she is like the others?
All her predecessors who fragmented you?
Won't she do the same?
But if you will not listen to reason, and true and pure love, then I only hope she will take care of you, cradle your heart in her hands and give it strength.
I hope that she will give you what you need, and more.
However, if she does not deliver, I will be here, waiting.

I'd rather cuddle than go to the park
Said my friend
I'd rather cuddle then go to the park*
Said I
What a difference one little letter makes
Funny that both 'a' and 'e' are the most used
Out of all the 26 children, these are the most abused
(Sorry that was dark, I had to write it though
I've got a new contract giving me a quota
And setting a minimum of X poems a day
With L number of lines with Q words per line
And purple plus candy canes equals love.
Another provision in my contract is that I must write
Anything and everything and whatever comes to mind)
So I'm thinking of all these letters and thinking
Why these? Why 26? Why have 'c' if 's' and 'k' can do its job?
And why do people have favorites?
Which makes my mind segue into this thought:
Why have favorites at all? Everything will be a favorite
Something to someone, right?
And what does it benefit us to love a letter or symbol such as <3
Or maybe :)
Is it because our mind sees patterns and so instead of seeing
The mathematically incorrect 'less than three' we see a heart
And instead of 'colon parentheses' (correct in no context but the internet) we see a smile
And in all honesty, we must admit, <3 and  :) are not biologically
Or physiologically accurate
So how did we come up with the super-simplified emoticon?
And who came up with a word like emoticon anyway??

Blue or black shoes
Skinny jeans
Graphic t-shirts
Wrist-encircling chains and strings
Messy brown hair
Dark skin and darker eyes
******* bag
This is the outer me
A bubbly quirky girl
Strange smiles and stranger laughter
But inside I'm crazier
Layers of personality
Like an onion or an ogre
The deeper you peel
The curiouser I seem, I'm sure
Made-up superstitions
Good luck charms and rituals
Fear and Hatred for self
Confusion, stress, twisted love
Two outlets alone for my pain and
Tears, do not count
People think I'm bright
A faerie of sunshine
A beam of light
But how does someone so dark
So self-destructive
Become a guiding light?

I'm bleeding out
Shedding my radioactive tears for you
Wondering as I walk a little tightrope
Between cyanide and happiness
Would it **** you to live and love?
To remove this curse of curves
To spend some time raising dragons
So that the love killer and killer queen
May not be left undefeated and unbroken,
Their stories left unwritten

O Captain! My Captain
An agent of Time
Set out on a mission,
That went all but fine.
Two years of memories
All down the drain

Two new friends left him
Near as soon as they came
After a battle between Dalek and man
This in a sense,
Was his last stand.
He came, he conquered
He fell, and rose

Abandoned by friends
To fend for his own

Back in time he went,
And stuck once again,
Our Captain seemed doomed
To live on his own

The immortal was cocky,
Lived life to its best
Though after a few hundred years,
He'd soon beg for rest.

O Captain! My Captain!
What's brought you dread?
Is it the fact that you went
From human to a head?

He was merely a face.
The Face of Boe, he was called.
His long lived life,
Lived with flaw.

Alas, it seems,
All things come to an end.
And with the Time Lord and companion,
Our Captain was dead.

O Captain, my Captain!
Though plans were never followed through,
We all met you with one line:
"Captain Jack Harkness, and who are you?"

Your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me,
But bear this in mind, it is meant to be
Since you've dreamed a vision of us together
And I'll love us, you and I, always and forever.
Cause when I'm with you, my world is so different from any hell I'm living
And when you're around me, your eyes light up like the stars have been spilled out along with all the suns of heaven into your eyes
You're the one who seems to love this wildflower so she feels as lovely as the sweetest camelias, and strong enough to push the planets out of orbit
As for you, I only know what you've said to me;
     That my kisses are oxygen when you can't breath, and that
     You feel such an intense desire to protect me from any potential harm
     That you plan to marry and live with me for years to come.
But I know with less certainty than you that we'll be together forever to come
All I know is you love me and you make me feel so loved
More loved than the moon is loved by the sun, chased endlessly and almost futilely for a mere glimpse of her silver face
And I know this is a scientifically proven-to-be-incorrect metaphor, but I still love you
And will love you, until the sun falls into the sea of milk, the knees of those arthritic elephants shake and kneel with feebleness, and the great sea turtle turns belly-up, drowning the world in the Milky Way
And even past then
Past the time where men and spirits fade into ghostly memories, forgotten because there's no one to remember them
Past the time that the sun is finally swallowed and held in the sea, past King Arthur's return, and when the giant serpent finally kills Ra
Past the time when the gods grow tired of their human games, and fall asleep at their chessboards, one hand dipped in the Adriatic and a finger spinning the galaxies ever slower as dust and cobwebs of invisible spiders come to blanket the universe
And even past then, past all these mythological improbabilities, past Death's abandonment of his duties and his scythe while sand no longer runs in glasses and he reaps himself
Past then will I love you and think of the spilled out flaming stars in your eyes and the velvety sparks in your fingertips and lips.

Some say love is a kiss
Pressed softly against your cheek
Or perhaps a beautiful summer's
Day, with sunny skies and green grass
Maybe a pain in the chest
Caused by love unrequited,
Lost, or unatainable
But why can't love be everything?
A simple pinprick of emotion
To a blade ****** and twisted in your heart
A plastic grocery bag floating
Heavily in an Ankh-Morporkian river
A dandelion crushed by
Children's running feet
A single raindrop streaking down
From the sky
A baby giraffe stumbling to
Her feet, gangly legs tangling up
An awkward kiss, half shy
But still enjoyed
A hundred spears pointed towards
The heart of one man, standing forward
A broken butterfly wing
Fluttering to the ground

Machmal denke ich günstig für nicht sein,
Denn ich kann nicht zu viel sehr gut machen.
Ich bin zu klein, zu kurz, and nicht klug
Nicht friedlich genug, oder zu verrückt und komisch.
Meine Geschwister meinten das ich bin sehr ägerlich.
Aber meine Freunde hat etwas anderes sagen.
Sie denken ich bin nett and freundlich,
Lustig and vielleicht schon,
Und ein absolut Schlauberger.
Ich glaube sie fast nie,
Aber ich beginne zu sie glauben.

Sometimes I think I'm good for nothing
Because I cannot do too much well.
I am too small, too short, and not smart
Not peaceful enough or too crazy and weird.
My siblings think that I'm very annoying
But my friends have said something else.
They think I'm nice and friendly
Funny and maybe pretty
And an absolute smarty pants
I almost never believe them
But I am beginning to believe them.

So I've got two new bracelets
One's actually a necklace but who cares

I've got blue and reddish beads dangling
From this necklace, wrapped
Five times around my wrist
And sometimes the bobbles get under
My wrist when I write

I've got five peace signs melded
Together, gold toned and metal
I must admit, the reason I prefer it
Is because of a tiny imperfection
A little spike of metal on the second
Only I know it's there and it's
My silly imperfect secret

So there you have it
My two new bracelets...
I think I'll name them
Pentapax and sanguine
Bet you can't guess why

Know what I hate?
That feeling of disgust at myself
For eating a little more than usual
The happy-sadness for gaining 2 (needed) pounds
That tiny prodding in the back of my skull
Telling me to skip this so I don't gain a half pound
I need to eat, and love the different types of food
Sushi to curry to crawfish to funnel cakes
If its good, I'll eat it.
But I won't feel great about it.
I don't want to worry about it anymore
Stomach, please be quiet, you're not helping.
Brain, you too.
Friend, at least I've got this promise to keep.
That helps more than you know.
Plus I just really can't stand to throw up
Or not eat.
I hate this feeling.

So you've dared your girlfriend to write you a poem
Detailing why she loves you,
So what shall she write?
Perhaps that she imagines your kiss will be ambrosia to her,
And that she so easily trusts, and talks to you.
But the point of this poem is why she is in love with you
And so I think she'd say this;
I love you because you're so crazy, and different, and that's so right for you
I love you because you're so kind and sweet to me and other people
I love you because you've got awesome taste, in music and movies and the arts
You're a poet, artist, genius and I love you for it
I love you because you challenge me, and you appreciate intellect
I love you because you don't act excessively proud of what you've done, even though it's really great
I love you because you're quiet, unlike what I am most of the time
My list could go on for pages if I wanted, I've got so many reasons to love you
I love the way your hair covers your eyes
And when it gets ruffled up it's so cute, and reminds me of a flustered bird's feathers
I love how you use words and graphite to create beautiful art and gorgeous depictions
I love you, and pretty much everything about you
And you've got this sort of air, an aura one might say, about you
One that I can only describe as irresistable and curious, curious in both senses of the word
I love how you don't put me down, and are actually so supportive of me
I love how you comfort and understand me so quickly
I love you for talking me out of all sorts of depression, cutting, anorexic tendencies, and still loving me despite my craziness
I really truly thank you for that
You're an incredibly fantastic best friend and boyfriend,
I'm still so amazed at how I got lucky enough to get you, and that you feel the same
The only thing I don't love about you in this moment is that you aren't here
Because I miss you more than life right now
And I love you so much

What's rice anyway?
Could it be with another
Race that its a currencey
Golden coins of the fae and wee ones
The dust shaken off the feet and backs of orcs and
The gold cinders of balroc flames
The precious jewels of the sandman

If we had no bones
Were only bags of skin
Stretched like amoebas
Barely holding our insides in
Our bodies would be jelly
And have no form at all
Without our bones to hold us up
No longer would we stand tall

Hand lacerations
Are absolutely no fun.
Especially when on
The dominant hand
But somehow the slash
In *******,
The spread of pink in dishwater
The dark red welling up
And spilling over
Somehow through the
Majority of calm after a
Brief freak-out
Somehow this stifles my
Desire to mutilate
This horrendous lust that
I do not want and
Barely can control
So now my handwriting
*****, my fingers hurt,
These cuts are a nuisance
But my repugnant hunger
Has been tamed...
What's wrong with me?!

Scarlet is the only paint I know
Gone from my palette forever
Are greens and blues of every hue
Yellows and oranges no longer acceptable
Purples blacks and whites, no more
Red, scarlet crimson; only these
The color of blood and roses
But wait, I don't like order
So let's say that french kisses are red
And cool water is too
Redefining red as I wish, I make
Soft curling ferns and fuzzy bellied hedgehogs red
And you know what?
Scarlet is now the only paint I know

I think the most poetic thing about the flu
Is the resulting weakness
The fever's fire hollowing me from the inside out
Burning holes in my bones and muscles
******* my body dry of blood
Then replacing it with
Weakness, frailty, and, my inability to move
Feeling thin and worn
Bony and small and vulnerable, like a baby bird
And a throbbing head
The gnomes are back with a vengeance
Doubled over with pain in my side and belly
Yep, the weakness is definitely the most poetic

When I was little, I had a blanket
Not a regular blanky either
The smoothest, most wonderful one
Hand sewn by my great grandmother Charlotte
Now all we have of hers other than a
Dresser, rocking chair, and picture or three
I didn't realise it then, but it had a heart design
Of faded green, and brown and red-orange
And off-white
I don't remember much, but I do remember
I could be completely enveloped within
Still can, and this is no huge blanket
Perhaps five by three feet, and ugly as heck
But so wonderfully made and beautiful
Soft and love infused
I thought we didn't even have it anymore,
But then I rediscovered it,
Now I can't live without it

So a while back my friend told me
'You're analytically minded'
Until then I hadn't really seen it
But from then on, I couldn't see
Anything but it
It's like before then my brain only
Analysed whatever was fed in
But now, now it does that
As well as analysing the analytical process
My brain seems to absorb quirky habits
From others more readily now too
I read a book about a nerdy boy
Who loves math, anagrams, and Katherines
All of a sudden I start anagramming
Everything
I saw a vihart video on tesselations
And another on fractals
This reminded me of the Fibonacci sequence
And Sierpinski's triangle(which two friends
Claim is
'A tri-force made up of tri-forces, made of tri-forces!')
Now I'm in love with all four again
And a bunch of random
Mathematical things too

This is comemmorative
Just a small poem to say
If poems written equaled
Years lived
Then I would be old
A century old
A hundred is so much
So many poems in three months
Or less
And now it seems so attainable
One fifth of my goal complete
And a single milestone passed
How quickly it's passed too

To my bearded bear friend;
I've started this 'bout thirty times
And ended just the same
I couldn't get it just quite right,
Or make sure it wasn't lame
So I've decided heck with it
I'm writing this and posting
So my dear friend Troubadour:
Thanks, for all you've done
You've been a terrific friend
Enjoyable and fun,
Thanks for the conversations
Both really short and long
And may I say, once again
Thanks for being awesome.
Danke mein Freund,
Du bist super, und das ist
Die Wahrheit!

Men have died
And angels cried,
All for love.
I have wept,
And secrets kept,
All for love.
Kings on thrones
And men of bones
Have shuddered,
All for love.
Nations have clashed
And creatures thrashed,
All for love.
Will you ever cry,
And inside die,
All for love?
Poets and troubadours
Have sung its praises.
Playwrights and authors
Have written its woes.
But who in the time
Of the cavemen would have
Thought love could ever
Be shown by a rose?

I don't really know what to write anymore
I've got bits and bobs and puzzling pieces of poems
Floating through my mind
But I can't put them to paper
I know what to say and how and why
But cannot
I could write about love and life,
But I'm tired of that
I can write about butterflies and doodles of
Flying cheesy donuts or a land whale
But nope. That's too boring for me for now
Lethargy and apathy are taking over for now
So my inspiration tree is a little wilted.
So here's to another lack-of-inspiration poem
And another ode to boredom.

I need something light and cheerful
To remind of the beauty and good
Soo I will write about crayons, under-rated, and butterflies
And roses, over-rated, and friends
And love, simply confusing, and puppies
And soft furry squishy warm pretty lovely good-smelling things.
Oh yeah, and faeries and their mischievous pixie cousins

I am afraid of aloneness
Being without someone or something
To talk to, to see and interact with

I am afraid of baring my heart and soul
And afraid of not doing so, both
Because I might not be understood

I am afraid of knives and glass, blades
And sharp with the thought that I may
Cut myself by accident, and enjoy it

I am afraid of friendship and love
And the lack thereof, as it causes
Pain and heartache and grief

I am afraid of the dark and the monster
Under the bed, simply because those childish
Stories may be true

I am afraid of loss and abandonment,
My lack of confidence and freedoms
That may restrict my possibilities

I am afraid to be afraid,
Because it will hold me back.

I've never liked hospital room flowers
Their plastic, chemical smell mixed with the scent of disinfectant
Fake yellow, greens, pinks and whites
All the colors of pastel
No reds or blues, why's there never blue?
Sometimes they come with squeaky foil balloons
Brightly touting phrases like, "get well soon!"
And "we miss you!"
Cheerfully shouting the words to eternity
To everyone, but no one listens
But what's the purpose of flowers?
All they've ever done to me is cause depression
They stare you down as they slowly droop and decay
Wilting, they seem as if to say, "look, look at us"
"Like us, you are dying, slouching, falling into mortality"
Then when their rank water is cast aside
Soggy limp flowers and leaves tossed in trash
You're sickened by the task, rub your hands in disgust
Feeling as slimy as the cold ooze on the stems
What's the purpose of hospital flowers?
I've never liked them
All they've ever done to me is cause depression

Nature is everything
From tiny protozoa to the largest whale
Even the simplest insects
Contain elegent complexity
Beauty in even the most ugly beast

Peaceful, quiet and beautiful is Nature calm,

Like a natural healing balm,

From the largest beast to the smallest fly;

Under Mother Nature’s air so sweet and high!

The mist, the moon, the stars, and the night,

Are Mother Nature’s biggest delight!

The light, the sun, the rays,

And light of the first morning’s day,

Are all a part of beauty;

Nature is a beautiful treasure to see!

Nature is my favorite theme,

The morning is Mother Nature’s greatest scheme!

The leaves are falling from the trees,

And land inside the blue-green seas.

Blue-greeny seas and red firey stars
Dancing fish and snarling wolves
A little red fox trotting across cold snow
A flash of bold crimson in an icy white land
The aurora borealis and corona of the sun
The swirl of galaxies floating unfettered
Crashing into one another and stars dancing between them
Even these touch upon nature
A sort of large scale metaphor for the people of Earth
The whole of Mother Nature,
Her essence, and the ideas around her
Stretching into the greatest star and the smallest seed
The essence of life subtly covers all
Echoing the shapes and spirals
Mountains high and valleys low,
Spiders and creepy crawlies
Soft minxes and gentle pachyderms
A world of life in even the tiniest
Drop of water or crumb of dirt
All this beauty and wonder
Falls in Gaia's realm

A sunrise in the sky,
Birds chirping in the trees so high,
The sun reflecting on the sandy shore;
It also hits the forest floor.

The hot and dry desert with scorching sand,
The long miles of vast-bare land,
Only a few birds chirp in the air;
There’s no water over there!

The mountains of powder white,
Are so pretty even at night,
When owls do roam and birds doth sleep;

In trees on mountains steep.

Cats that are a homeless stray,
Still walk onward even in the cold day,
They sleep outside at night;
No one should make them homeless they have no right!

Mother Nature mourns when she sees cats not treated kind,
Still she walks onward through the wind,
She looks onward crying;
Watching sick animals dying.

Help this earth become a better one,
Until then our work may never be done,
The sun may never fade away;
Or the sky ever become gray,
But help keep Mother Nature from crying;
As she watches sick animals dying.

What's a girl with a face to you anyway?
Just another human with the curse of curves?
Someone to be the heroine to your heroics?
A girl you won't write songs about?
Most definitely not the only exception
The liquor to make you love drunk
The one to tell you 'give me love'
Who will say 'kiss me' but only to be loved
Not necessarily a girl to be your everything
Just the one to follow your lightning with thunder
A girl who hoped you see two is better than one
She doesn't want to be a secret valentine
It won't take long for her to fall for you
Cause everyone knows most boys like girls
And she'll take a rocket to the moon
Just to hear a secondhand serenade from you
Don't let me fall and I'll be that girl for you
But not just a girl with a face

A lick and nuzzle and nose rub
Backs stroked and sides brushed
Against sides
Quiet whimpers and kicks
Little paws batting away evil dream-things
Scrabbling against bed and pups and people
Round plump bellies and floppy ears
Silky fur and short waggy tails
Reassuring nudges and gentle proddings
Blanket shoved to one side
Pile of fuzzy sweetness in the middle
All tiny wriggling pups

Carpe diem is from the Latin phrase
carpe diem quam minimum credula postero
Which means 'pluck the day and put no trust in the future'
coronemus nos rosis antequam marcescant
'Let us drink and be merry'
As a wise, yet fictional professor said,
"We are food for worms, lads"
So pluck the day! Put no trust in the future!
Who is to say a future exists?
Believe no soothsay nor medium,
They lie and tell half truths for petty cash
Find joy and beauty in the world,
Enjoy every moment like it's your last
Don't squander your health, money nor sanity though
If there does happen to be a future coming,
You'll want to be around for it!
**** the marrow out of life,
Just don't choke on the bone

I want to imagine dragons into existance
I want to kiss fire to your lips
I want to be shocked back into life
I want to fight my way down from the top
Just to break the status quo
I want to sing in the rain and
I want to dance on the edge of skyscrapers
I want to close my eyes and melt into you
Until the colors of our souls swirl into a new color
I want to smile mischieviously and whisper
"Fin" as the last echoes of my song
Fade away
I want to climb the clouds and
I want to fly through mountains
I want to swim through space and
I want to sail through the deepest depths of ocean
I want to do and be and speak and feel more than
Can be done and spoken and felt
I want to stop the world's rotation
And switch up the planets
I want to achieve the impossibilities and
Do what cannot be.
For it is said
Only those who attempt the absurd can achieve the impossible.

Cupid's known as the love god
(Eros in the greek)
Shooting arrows of attraction
Towards those unwary
Arrows tipped with a love potion
Laced with aphrodisiac
Feathered with rose petals
Bow strung with rainbows
And infused with sweetness
These are the tools of his trade
Or so they tell us

But I like to think differently
Maybe he's a mischievious deity
Arrows tipped with complexity
Laced with anxiety
Feathered with the red of blushes
Bow strung with false courage
And infused with unsure passions
Maybe these are also his tools
Perhaps a mix of the two?

I think the gods get a little too bored
So they play with our lives
Like a child with a nest of ants

Sometimes wonder if I have synesthesia
Or something like it
Cause for me I associate colors and animals with people
Cause I see time as a map in my head of memories and images of greenery and snow and memories of my life instead of seasons so that I can cycle through the hours of a day in class periods on weekdays viewed as memories of the class, and walk through the past which takes a sharp left at the year 2000 and from there on the flatness of the millenial years drops off into a sloping textbook
Cause sounds and words have textures on my tongue, notes tickling my taste buds as they spill out
Cause I can taste electricity which has a surprisingly dead flavor
Cause I can describe colors with texture and it makes perfect sense to me even though my friends say it cannot be done
Because if I don't, I don't know what the hell to call this

I have never
Danced in a
Pitch black room
With the smell
Of flowers
Everywhere.
I only dance
In the rain, a
Clean, and icy
Catharsis
I only dance
In a dark and
Hot gym for
Homecoming
With friends all
Around
I am not the
Most graceful or
Original, as I stumble
And lose rhythm
And simply sway or spin
Nevertheless, I
Dance

I'm sorry to tell you but the little things you treasure;
An old letter from an ancestor
A silver trinket
A memory
Will all
Crumble into dust
Tarnish into black
Fade into nothingness
So before all the years and months and weeks fly by
Detach yourself a bit from your clutch on these
small things.
Read the letter.
Play with the trinket
Enjoy the memory,
But all things must away and so
I urge you to live in the moment
Rejoice in the light of the present day
And shout for no other reason than your existance.
But heaven forbid,
I implore you otherwise,
Please do not say
YOLO.