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Lucky Queue May 2013
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
I don't even know when I wrote this, sometime in the second half of april

1.16.16 i give this six angst/*** points because it's made of song titles
Lucky Queue Sep 2012
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?
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
click
A poem by someone in Chicago
click
A poem by a girl in love with her best friend
click
A story by a young man trying to find out himself
click
A poem by someone whose cat is in front of the screen
click
A piece by a rusty old man in need of attention
click
A piece of soul
click
Posted for the world's criticism
click
A shred of heart
click
Bared with anonimity
click
Thoughts from the mind
click*
of a fellow poet
Lucky Queue Dec 2012
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
12/15/12
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
I think of you and I think of your laughter
Your hugs and jokes and wry smiles
Running around chasing eachother
Tumbling in the grass
Those sweet shy and bold kisses you'd brush my cheeks with
And of course
Your eyes
For all my former dogs... what, you thought it was for a guy? :P
Lucky Queue Jul 2014
i grow bored and quite tired of
the same old routine that
i havent touched or really been involved in for a while because
i have invested my energies into such things as
drawing and illustrating and dreaming and wishing and
definitely not preparing for college or my senior year of high school which
starts this year but im so not ready for and not interested in and if you ask me
i really dont want to have a last year of high school at all but
just draw and illustrate and dream and wish

i feel so restless
7.24.14
im so restless right now and arghowsahfaiuh
dragon's trying his best with me but i still want to misbehave and i feel like im going crazy
sigh
Lucky Queue Sep 2012
If our multiverse revolves around
Our universe revolves around
Our galaxy revolves around
Our solar system revolves around
Our sun.
Which is orbited by the Earth
(Which is orbited in turn by the moon and our space junk)
Which is composed of people and continental plates and oceanic plates, all drifting around and bumping into one another
Which are composed of molecules
Which are composed of elements
Which are composed of and are atoms
Which are composed of protons and neutrons in the nucleus
Which is orbited by spinning electrons that we can't even see,
Who is to say we are not an atom to some greater being?
Lucky Queue May 2013
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
Prompt at a creative writing seminar
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
Roses are red, but only sometimes
And I don't care much for them anyways
Violets are never blue
But I like crepe myrtles better
Sugar is sweet, but too sweet for me
I'd much rather have spicy
As for you? You're only sweet all the time
Other times, you're incredible.
It's way too early for valentines day, isn't it?
Lucky Queue Mar 2013
Who are you Sang?
I know the body your face belongs to,
I saw him a few days ago at my brother's school
But you're a different person,
You're born of my dreams
Long black hair
And tall lanky body
In my dream you were my age
Following me around high school
But your real life doppelganger
Was just goofing off with his friends
Why did you so capture my dreaming mind?
And why did I name you?
I've never named a dreamizen before
And so what's up with 'Sanguine'?
Sanguine- adj: cheerfully optimistic; noun: a blood-red color
Dreamizen- like a dream denizen... I made it up
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
The last time I saw you we were saying goodbye
And brushing fingertips, gazing back at each other
As we walked our separate ways
Complete separation came a while later, like a razor
A wicked sharp blade brought between us by you
Confess your love and then leave seems to be your way
Say we'll remain friends but never speak again.
The second time rougher than the first
Making scars upon old thick scar tissue.
Funny, you always begged for a kiss when we were together
But I never got a kiss goodbye
And now I only get to stare at my cold metal reflection
Lucky Queue Mar 2013
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
3.7.13
Lucky Queue Oct 2012
Some people like fall, but not me.
It's full of death and decay, the gorgeous pieces of fire drift
from their skeletal homes and burn out into
sodden mushy brown paper.
Hard smooth and brown pebbles, spiky holey bombs, and twirly helicopter blades fall from the same skeletons and hide
beneath the paper, waiting for an innocent victim,
lying in the perfect position to slip someone up so that
they lose their bags and packages as they themselves go
slip slide crashing into the ground.
The victims are sure to rise up again, but with some bruises and bits of soggy brown, stuck all over their clothes
In fall, all the blooms of color decease, all fruit and vegetable and good green things die and leaves the world sodden mushy and brown.

Some people say they like winter, but not me.
It's a cold cruel and heartless season, robbing any last trace of life
from all helpless and left-behind creatures.
The vegetation becomes glazed over with melting glass and is the
one spot of beauty, as the only green left resides on prickly evergreens, housebound plants, and the occasional tacky
coat.
In winter, there is no way to leave your personal fortress without mountains of clothes, and so every person becomes a
chapped lipped, red cheeked, stiff fingered puffball.
Every time you jump into a mound of the white fluff that accompanies the dread season, some is bound to creep into your shirt and boots, freezing whatever it touches, and then ever so so slowly flowing along your skin, one of Gaia's little tortures.
Only half finished, so I'll write more later, perhaps in a different poem, perhaps not.
Lucky Queue Oct 2013
You have to hold it up to the light
To see her darkened soul
She was born into the night
When the spirits were forced to let her go
Releasing her from the delusional 'utopia'
She had always known as home
Throwing her, stumbling into the blackness of the universe
Through the gauntlet of buffeting blades
Which tosses her back into her past
From which she has tried so hard to hide
If the truth were ever known
She'd hide it in the crevices of lies
Lies and half truths she has woven into
Thick veils and walls which block out the world
Like her hair does, hiding her eyes
Which brim over with tears daily Leaving pock marks in the path she's taken
Like a season of acid rain
Unforgiveness to her is another saying
She hears time and time again
Like a backhanded slap
Each time stings, but with repetition
She numbs to the pain
Cold as ice from her fingertips in
Creeping in towards her heart,
Surrounding it in a protective ice cage
Until some hopeful soul comes along,
Trying to warm her fingertips again
Me and mike Hauser 9.27.13
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
I want to call my heart my own
But you still live there
You may not know but tendrils,
Snaking litte tentacles of you
Still slither and twine
Twist writhe and caress my heart
With their sandpaper skin
And I don't know
How to end their presence
I want them to leave
Or to allow them full access
But they are too content to change
Serpents of your last affections and
Eels of your looks
Why won't they swim back into the ocean
Or slide down a hole?
Leave me and return no more!
Or bring your owner forth,
Coax your master closer
That we may talk
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
The day I met you
You were either high or silly
And now that I've known you
I still can't decide
Maybe you live on a high of crazy
Reckless abandon
But no, you care too much for that
What are you?
Lucky Queue Sep 2012
I am an exoskeleton
Falling to pieces
Half alive yet entirely dead
Crumbling and translucent
Delicate, and drifts, fluttering
With a single breath from someone
Nearby
I could be crushed or mangled
By a strike of the hand or a flick of a finger
But because I am considered beautiful and strange
I am kept preserved
The world revolves around beauty and
Oddities and I become one of these
Studied anomalies, a curiosity, merely
Because I am not like them
I am Oriental
And Occidental
I am a Southerner
And a Northerner
I am malnourished
Yet well fed
I am thin and short
But my stature belies my power
I am a geek, nerd, braniac, dork, and overachiever
But remain a stupid, ignorant, procrastinator
I am certainly an curio; a
Living
Breathing
Walking
Oxymoron
The title will probably only make sense to those that have read Reaper Man by Terry Pratchett
Lucky Queue Apr 2013
Peek through the bushes
Look through the vines
What lies there in the clearing?
Bleached white and draped in green strands
A mouse climbs over
Worms squirm under
A fox pup comes along and sniffs around
Nudging a white bowl in curiosity
But look! now the bleached object moves
A few pale digits twitch
The bowl rolls over and its plain to see
This is no jumble of old dry sticks
This is not a set of hoops and a ball
It's a sleeping skellington
No, don't worry; it's not dead
It's a living skellington, Daddy!
4/2/13
Lucky Queue Aug 2014
some days

some days i wake up
feeling warm and lovely and happy
feeling whole and right in who i am and what i appear to be

some days i go to bed
barely holding my eyes open against the weight of dreams
barely staying in reality a moment longer

some days i want to create
a dream of imagines on paper
and spill the ink of my mind out onto the world,
eagerly showing the creations of my mind and what excites me as far as
what i can imagine and bring out of the ethereal into the only slightly more tangible inner chambers of my mind palace

other days
i want to destroy
to tear, end to end, the world i have created in my mind and every piece of it i have brought into existence
to shred myself to pieces to rid the universe of such and inadequate creature as myself who dares feel more comfortable as a fluid being, more free to explore and weave in and out of the norms set by society

and then i fall, weak and hollow, to my knees,
full of life and brightness that has been pressed to aside by the gaping holes of heaving singularities within my gut and soul
and i feel dark
and wrong
and numb

but then every so often i get a spark of light in the inky dark of me

and it flutters close

circling my form slowly and giving out the slightest bit of light and warmth

sometimes this first Good Thought or Good Feeling will be crushed
snatched from the air in the claws of a demonic and wild gargoyle

but even so, one by one the light spots will gently blanket the gargoyles,
forcing them to lie in wait once more

for who can fight the gentle persistence of a butterfly
8.9.14
hopefully i feel a bit better and less dysphoric soon; im not quite so fond of fighting these clawed gargoyles

8.21.14
my dragon (and his butterflies) are hugely helpful to me, especially in that he's saved my life before and continues to help me through all sorts of anxiety and gender dysphoria, though I know it isn't easy for him either. this is my way of thanking him for the beautifully patient love and comfort he offers me
Lucky Queue Sep 2012
Love is a feeling so powerful,
so consuming.
Men have gone to war for it,
gone to great extremes in search of it
and yet sometimes, despite their efforts,
sometimes because of their efforts,
love is lost or flees from the pursuer.
Love is not a material thing,
a treasure like gold silver and jewels are.
Love is an emotion, a connection,
an attraction between people that pulls
them together. Sometimes its a one
way pull, but it pulls and functions
nonetheless.
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
A body and soul stretched to extremes
Yin and yang
The most and least of both worlds
Opposite sides of the coin
Cleansing and pure
Tainting and pitch
Light and dark
Of the purest white
And the most tainted black
Earth and air and fire and water and aether
Sun and rain
The brightest and hottest fires of sun
Beating and firing heat from the bottomless flames of hell
Breaking into a cold sweat without cease
The flaming evil of health
Rain and sun
The darkest and iciest rain of clouds
Pouring and drenching from the endless pools of heaven
Chilling into a cleansing soak never long enough
The freezing good of pain
The contradictions, the back and forth
The intelligent confusion
The stupid direction
The leather and biker tough guy
The shy and bookish sweet girl
The false realities and true lies
Love in strangers and indifference in close friends
Hope in troubled times and loss in peaceful
Banding together the unlikelies
Separating the probabilities
Pain in love and happiness
Contentment in fear and despair
The sound of one hand clapping.
Strangely whimsical title for my outpouring of passion, but I suppose it follows with the oxymorons and backwards-forwardsness...
Lucky Queue Apr 2013
I'm sitting here
Reading these words you wrote for me
It wasn't really that long ago
But it seems like ages
And now I'm thinking about you and me
I'm not the same person you wrote to
I don't feel the same either
And what about you?
You said 'I love you'
Even wrote this poem to say it
But now we're a bit estranged
I know I can get on without you
And even though it hurts, I'm fine
So what about you?
What are you feeling now?
What are you thinking?
And I have to wonder
Are you ever curious about me?
4.2.13
Lucky Queue Oct 2012
Chirp chirp
A sparrow hops and flitters
Jumps and flutters
From branch
To branch
To wire
Lining up with all her friends
Waiting for some skybus to take them away
Twitter and chortling about the world below
Silly humans in their lucid bubbles of
Space
Squirrels chattering and cussing from the trees
Thieving birdseeds and peaches
Meanwhile the sparrow bounces on the wire
Jittery and full of energy
Twitching and flicking her feathers and tail
Boune bounce hop
Fidget and jump on straw thin legs
And then whoosh
All leave at once
Their invisible skytrain pulling away as fast as it comes
Lucky Queue Dec 2012
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
Just thinking about sleepy puppies... so **** cute
Lucky Queue Apr 2014
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
4.5.14

7.3.15
finally got around to correcting the spelling of synesthesia. I know now I have spatial-sequence and number form synesthesia for sure. Very cool.
Lucky Queue Jan 2016
I'm using these tattoos,
floating above bone and flesh,
to remind myself of what once sunk.
1.18.16 four am
Lucky Queue Oct 2012
Blip. Blip. Blip
In the black of my room a red light pulses langorously on my phone
Steady green and blue lights and a rapid orange define the router across the room
Red digital numbers stand in the place of the clock
At precisely 6:00 am my alarm goes off(a deranged rooster entrapped in my phone)
A flick of a finger dismisses the crowing and the day has begun
After dressing and any other trivial task, I  am headed downstairs
A chik of the toaster
One beepbeepbeep of the microwave
More digital numbers, this time green, indicate that my bus comes shortly and I dash off
The headlights of the bus announce its presence half a block before it halts and the doors jerkily slide open
I text Graham from five feet away, because I don't yet know enough sign language
On the bus the driver may make an announcement, various lights and a few wires around her seat
School starts with a bell and the mindless herd shuffles in
The hallways bustle with the noise of teenagers chatting noisily, ipods playing, cells buzzing, beeping, texting
Homeroom and every period after is marked by a bell before and after until the last bell, freeing us from our institution of education
Now everyone is really alive and the clammer of sounds is three times as loud as the morning.
On the bus all but the most obnoxious are silent, closed off in their little world of a cellphone, ipod, or mp3
The kids file on and off the bus, only waking from their technology induced zombification to rapidly vocalize with their friends
Once I get home microwave humms as food is reheated or quickly cooked
The rice cooker is prepped and light flips on when plugged into the wall
Coffee maker may be set, and if my dad is home, his workspace is humming and light-pulsing as well
Brother and sisters argue over which tv show to watch or first computer turn while I'm wrapped up in my world of texting homework and poetry
Mom arrives from school and dinner is made
Stove humming loud and food stirfryed
Dinner no blips beeps or pulses matter, just the clinking of silverware and conversation
Afterwards, faucet runs dishes clattering while I wash
Imersion resumes and videos, games, and homework take over until bed
Teeth are brushed, pajamas donned, and members of this family mess around in bedroom before slowly transitioning to bed, and then sleep
So ends another day for me in the 21st century
Lucky Queue Apr 2014
There is a darkness that's unyielding
Standing  just this side of fright
But even shadows in their concealing
Need some form of light
There is a lightness which goes unbroken
Into the dark side full of hate
And despite the ghosts of midnight
It arrives before too late
Dripping from off the ceiling
Sliding down barren walls
Oozing from the basement
Filling up the halls
Falling off the table
Rolling across the floor
Scampering in the attic
Scratching at the door
There's a bitter taste inside the darkness
A slight twisting of the tongue
A secret held up to the shadows
Playing favorites to no one
There's sweet flavor in the lightness
Sugar coated, smooth and warm
Caressing those in sunlight
Who were and are to form
Pouring out into the darkness
Giving life to the reborn
4.14.14
Yet another lovely collab with mike hauser
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
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?!
11/19/12
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
Around thanksgiving everyone wants to know
What are you thankful for?
Don't worry you only have to say one thing.

They don't understand
I have a very very very long list
So I say something silly
They say That won't do, try again
And when I insist that I am grateful for it
They refuse to accept
So I say some nonsense,
Just whatever they'd like to hear
And sit back arms crossed
Wondering why ask and then refuse?
If they gave me more than one choice
A list could be procured
But no, I've got to pick off their
List of serious and good things
As they turn to each person in turn,
All giving similar answers to please the asker
Why not declare what you're thankful for,
And then let others say their piece?!
Thanks for that confusion
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
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!
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
Why bother with math,
When English is more exciting?
Why do the same old thing,
When English broadens your horizons
Imagination is set free,
Leading to plentiful ideas
That will expand into our future,
Effecting our daily lives.
You say math is the basis of life,
But that is a lie.
What is math without English?
Without ideas, math is nothing.
Numbers go to waste,
Science would never be put to the test,
History would be long forgotten.
English is the basis of life,
Nothing more.
For without ideas,
Where would our world be?
I emailed 'math and numbers' to my friend and this was her first response, the beginning of a brief poetry debate... quite interesting as she doesn't like writing poetry
Lucky Queue Apr 2014
One star two star
Little moon
Something dark and something blue
Something here something there
Something underneath the stairs
Trapped under pounding feet
It wakes to falling dust storms
Life of isolation, darkness, pain
It can only hope to be better reborn
For what it says and what it does
In the deep dark depths below
Are not made for human consumption
If you feel the need to know
You have been warned
All is as it appears
There is no light at the end of the tunnel and no hidden layer of love
With power in its presence
Luster in its lack
Stealing the breath from out of dreams
And never giving back
Your attempts to run are futile and his claws embrace you tightly
In space they cannot hear you scream
But this is not space; this is the space under the stairs where your darkest dream lives
4.6.14
Amusing collab with mike hauser
Lucky Queue Oct 2012
We both lean in, both eager, and me hesitant;
not for what is to come but the thought that once it happens,
There is no more chance for the First.
Leaning in, I inhale sharply, breathing ragged breaths,
Eyelids half shut
Faces so close I can hear his steady breathing, even though this is The First for him as well,
Bodies so close I imagine I can feel his heartbeat, chest expanding with each breath
Whisper unintelligible sweetness into my ear, words tickling my skin,
And the smell of sweet boyish deliciousness.
His nose presses against my cheek
Soft lips touching mine
Pressing
Breathing
Never wanting this moment to end.
We kiss and it feels like time stops only for us and we are barely touching but it's more than enough
And then my little sister runs up, and I have to take her home.
We stand and shyly gaze at each other, your bike, my sister and a few feet of air between us as we say goodbye and you mention looking up something insignificant at home
I walk the seventy-five feet to my house and you race off on your bike, both bashful of what has passed between us and still thirsty for more of each other.
The next day at school we meet in the hallway and walk to first period together, murmuring shyly
about It, air between our arms electric, and I'm desperate.
Desperate to touch you,
To fall into your embrace
And touch my lips to your neck,
Face,
Lips,
And never leave you for an instant,
No need to say a single word
Just be with you and comb my fingers through your hair,
And breathe.
Lucky Queue Oct 2019
last night, when I dreamt I was a fish
slipping into the water to guide red, glossy trout upstream
who slid out of the water to back the subterfuge I’d designed to infiltrate and destroy not the lush
foliage walled house or the empty lawn with dining chairs and napkins all scattered, but rather the entity with no face
which made its home there and set up traps and laid in wait and yet, through any danger I felt there was also calm
and the air did not feel too thin or too heavy
but rather as if your warm breath was behind me, and you were behind me
standing with the fish women and their cool eyes gazing past me and hands upon my shoulders, and we were the strong, quiet water
10.29.2019
Lucky Queue Mar 2013
I think that if you were to look at my heart,
Not my mass of blood-pumping tissues and arteries,
But my real heart, the metaphorical, emotional one,
I believe you'd find a glass bowl
Delicate, thin, transparent and fragile
Carefully pumping not blood, but emotion
And as bowls and vases do, it would have an orifice on top
Into the hole are thrown little pebbles, bit stones, junk, debris
All the metaphorical cast-offs from real injuries
Cruel words and nasty deeds
Enter through the eyes and ears
And along the way from some sort of unwanted material
The larger the crime, the more serious the harm, the larger the stone
Thus it falls into my glass heart
Perhaps chipping an edge or cracking against the sides
And the added weight is a strain on the silicate walls
More and more pile in until it cracks
Let's out a squeal of shattering protest, and out pours
The hurt, the pain, the angst
Unless, some kind and gentle words,
The warmth of an embrace, a kiss, a murmur
Or strokes of encouragement and love come along
Patching up the little nicks and scratches
Pulling out a few of the stones, some new, some old,
And healing the scars that can't be seen
I've had this idea for a loong time, but it only manifested itself in math class after a test.
Lucky Queue May 2013
Beauty queens on the Hollywood scene
Plastic surgery before the age of fifteen
Striving to look like somebody else
Not happy with life nor even themselves

Riding 'round Beverly hill with Porsches, and Mercedes too
Strutting their stuff with brand new Jimmy Choos
Tiny lap dogs wearing diamond studded collars
Designer clothes costing many a pretty dollar

Watching the sun set over Beverly Hills
As the man on the corner passes out ****** pills
Life is unreal on both sides of the ditch
No matter how much you have, life's still a *****

And as you inhale the intoxicating clean air
Think: your vault might empty, and quickly be bare
But you'll still have family and friends and old fashioned love
(Though to be honest, you're never as free as The Dove)

The dove that flew off so long ago
Leaving the filth of it all far down below
In search of brighter days and bluer skies
Leaving Hollywood to deal with their own web of lies

This dove we speak of, he was truly free
Flew away so he could find his own special tree
No more worries of blank eyed starlet's destruction
No more worries of the wicked red-eyed Hollywood corruption
Fun little collab done with mike hauser. 5.27.13
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
Worlds physical? Or worlds mental?
It makes all the difference.
Without the sciences it wouldn't matter either way
The last time I was taken from earth without moving?
Excepting when reading, with math.
Tesselations and fractals and numbers
Numbers have a flow all their own
Without numbers, meter and rhyme couldn't be
Even now, without numbers this discussion could not be held
Even now this typing is numbers
It may not look it, but its all ones and zeroes
The angle and curvature of every letter defines language
I say nay my friend, nay
I never spoke the words declaring math and science the crown of humanity
And the words stating english its clothes
They are important, both in their own way,
But think of this: you cannot do math
Nor calculate the distance from venus to the
Andromodean galaxy without math
But think also of this: communication may exist without english
Numerical codes and codexes and letters written entirely in numbers or symbols
Do exist
I dare not refute the value of english, but do you argue the language or the study?
The study can be done away with and easily
Put to rest, as it had to be created
The language too was created and came from
Some mother language
But we always had math.
Does not even an ape know that an even split
To a banana is half?
Apes have no words as we think of them
But still, they do not have english
They don't have a grammar and spelling system nor manner of speaking,
They communicate perfectly well, even without words
But how are they to place value on objects without math?
Even some crude understanding of value
Is math
A banana must be worth less than two, no?
English resides on emotion and feeling, whereas math and numbers rest upon fact
How does one win an arguement without numbers?
Even now you use them.
This was only the last cause she was done writing poems... and for those reading this first: you have to read 'math and numbers' first and all the others in sequence to fully understand
Lucky Queue Dec 2012
Such
Pain
And loss
Potentially
Great hearts
Brilliant minds
Lost to this world
Far before their prime
My belly bleeds in sympathy
I feel as though punched in the gut
All my breath
Taken away by these
Horrendous actions of violence
Done to others far away and unknown to
Me, and mine but still so surreal, so so filthy,
And tainted by the lifeblood of the innocents and I
Can't help but
Cry for all those little ones
Murdered in cold blood, by a
Madman with a shotgun, but not at
All the hilarious kind the kind of madman who
Kills his own mother and so many little ones not yet even
Eleven, and many younger than that. Twenty seven human beings
Lost from this earth,
And yet another
Crazy lunatic set to
rest with his shotgun
This poem is concerning the massacre at an elementary school in connecticut yesterday (12/14/12). The new shape(originally shaped kind of like two sideways mountain peaks) is representative of the little ones' wishes. I just read an article that said the children were crying, and saying they just wanted Christmas.
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
One state, two state
Red state, blue state
This state, that state
Short and fat state
States here and over there
Colorful states everywhere!
But as election time draws near,
Each man closes mind and ear
To voices and opinions raised by opponents
As each team raises the arms and pennants
The choices are not clear
The future is bleary
And while many men fight for their side,
Regardless of what is wrong or right
The nation is torn
Like fabric by thorn.
This one is a bit Seuss-esque (I hope)
Lucky Queue Jan 2013
For every action there is an equal
And opposite reaction
For every kiss and kisser there
Must be one kissee
For every gallon of water added
There is one gallon of space taken
For every question there is a thing
For every answer there is an idea
For everything there is nothing
And therefore
This one person's life
A mere speck of electricity flesh and bone
Is inconsequential
"Therefore" is a word the poet must not know. -Andre Gide
Lucky Queue Dec 2012
Something was supposed to happen,
But it's just minty!
12/6/12
Ask me.
Lucky Queue Nov 2014
In a glade the size of a potted plant,
On a blanket the size of a napkin,
There sat a pair, the queerest of all,
Pieris and little Rotkaepptchen.

One was a goldfish,
But not just a goldfish.
The other was a plant,
But not just any plant.
(He was a fern, get it right.)

These two had a mission only they could complete,
The Quest for the glorious NumNums.

The legend of NumNums
Was told far and wide,
And all NumNum lovers
Wanted them inside.
(Their tummies that is, don’t be inappropriate)

ANYWAY,
The NumNums were glorious,
Such a yummy treat,
Until they were poisoned,
That wasn’t so neat.

Pieris and Rotkaepptchen,
The task now at hand,
Set off on their journey,
Through strange, distant lands.

They navigated bedrooms,
They slid down the halls,
They were chased by vacuums,
And trapped by LEGO® walls!

This impossible mission continued,
Until, at last, success!
They found the trail’s end!
What joy! What bliss!
(Huzzah)

Now all that was required
Was to figure out the poison.
So they, without the antidote,
Could eat NumNums again

What a task that would be,
What work, what a chore!
Yet near the store of NumNums,
Upon the ***** floor,

They found a scrap of parchment,
With clues inscribed in black,
To reverse the candy’s poison
And bring them NumNums back
(Hollah!)

Into the woods they ventured,
They searched day and night
To find the precious antidote
And to relieve their plight.

For days, the land they scoured,
For ingredients rare and odd
Until they finally saw it,
Held captive by the frog!

The gleam of silica crystals,
The shine of his mucus
His curious croak was answered
With a meek “Help us.”

“Why should I?” he croaked again,
Staring them down drearily.
“I know not your quest,
I’ve only hints at the best.”

“Then surely you can help,
Surely you can try!”
Little Pieris yelped,
Looking about to cry.

“Don’t worry my friend!”
Rotkaeppchen declared
“For I’m he cannot resist
our plea, and most surely will assist.”

“Then, my dears, I solemnly swear
To help you in your need.
For here, this little draught of pear,
Will help you to succeed!”

And then, procuring a vessel
of the clearest glass
The wise old toad
Cleared his throat,
And promptly passed some gas.

“Excuse me,” he rumbled.
“Excuse me for that faux pas.”
And then he amphibiously
Handed over the pear draught glass

“Egads!” the two exclaimed,
Taking the glass cautiously.
But at last! They had the pear
And thanked him graciously.

At long last they had the cure,
The pear to fix the poison.
They took it back to the glade,
Where their lips they proceeded to moisten.

And that, my friends, is the last of our tale,
The tale of Pieris and Rotkappchen
The daring elves of yore.
With NumNums three,
Under the TumTum tree
They lunched and brunched once more.
And now, we’ve reached the end.
11.5-6.14
Written with my darling dear Storm for our Creative Writing class as a narrative poem
Lucky Queue Mar 2016
I've grown weary of this road and the cyclical path I follow,
yet I know that to make this road my bed would be to make it my grave.
Too long I've slumped forward, like a satellite in low orbit; forever falling down but never quite reaching The Place Where Down Stops.
All I need is one flare, one burst of flame
away from the stale air of an old house and musty earth
and to propel what passes for a spaceship into fresh, verdant land.

I've outlined the necessities, which you'll find on page four of the agenda.
Our itinerary is scrawled somewhere between the receipt for my breakfast and my dry cleaning,
and don't worry if a leaf or two falls out.
1.23.16
I have very little memory of this!?!?!??!
the title's from dr seuss
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
buzzzzzzz
The bus engine idles
Intensifying the hammering of little gnomes
On my skull
Their tin mallets ***** dinking
incessantly
Throbbing
Painful numb as waves crash to escape
The confines of my head
A small clownfish throwing his tiny body
Against the walls again
And again
And again
ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump
The bus hits three large bumps in a row
Jostling and jolting me into excruciating confusion
So tired and so alert
Drifting off to consciousness
I have got to escape this headache...
Lucky Queue Apr 2013
On this ground I was born raised and lived
In the years since my birth
I've sowed much wheat, and many rocks I've sieved
Making this land mine, this sky and earth.

The blue, clear skies, and evanescant clouds
Have dissipated now, this land is torn
I'm a mere denizen, yet here I still stand proud
So that on this ground my children will be born

The dust roils in ferment around me
And flings topsoil in my face
No green thing, nor bird nor bee
Is allowed to thrive in this barren place

And for my progeny, their future I mourn
This land is dead now, and has left me forlorn
4.11.13

Sooo this it the first sonnet I've ever written. I had to write it for english yesterday and now I'm hooked... I can definitely see their appeal
Lucky Queue Jan 2013
In every circle there is
An infinite number of triangles
In every triangle there is
An infinite number of circles
In every triangle there is
Another infinity of triangles
So then why the heck is there only
One circle in a circle?
I'm thinking you make the biggest possible of shape 1 in shape 2 and fill remaining space with ever smaller shape 2s... if I didn't make that obvious. Check out vihart's videos on fractals and sierpinski's triangle on youtube
Lucky Queue Oct 2012
I am the zombie of Tinkerbell
Her living corpse
Dress sparkles all faded
Tinkling like a broken bell
My fairy dust no longer brings children the gift of flight
But endows my prey with the curse of second life
That I may twice devour their
Squirming, wriggling,
Writhing, scriggiling
Flesh
Just the way I like it
With a wide dark grin across my face
Teeth stained with blood and broken into points
Eyes dim, dull, and hallowed
Skin sallow and torn by the fighters,
Who battle for their death
Combatting the loss of their dignity
I lure them in with stale illusions and sickly sweet snares
Torn wings are no match for swift feet, but I manage
Pushed onwards, pulled forwards by a need, urge
To devour, consume, and engorge myself
Again with tender meat
And imbibe upon the sharp lifeblood
Of faerie.
For I, am the zombie Tinkerbell, and I hunger.
It's dinner time...
Per a friend's suggestion
Lucky Queue Mar 2017
I stood in front of the toaster oven to retrieve my slightly singed toast, and for a moment, I felt the warmth of the sun.

It's been so long since I've seen the sun. I suppose I've grown accustomed to the cruel skies of a bitter climate. Lately, all that can be seen of the world when I look out my bedroom window is the grey sky and the bare bones of a Japanese maple.

The waterlogged earth squelches underfoot, weeping the melted snow up through a sparse carpet of grass. The grass, also, is barely keeping it together.

The skin on my hands has grown dry and rough, and while I could blame this on my clumsiness or demanding pastimes, I know better. Occasionally I work up the motivation to fight this process with some lotion or other. But yet, the heat of my apartment and the chill winds persist.

Will my hands ever again have that soft tenderness? Will we ever again see the sun? Will we ever?
3.23.17
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
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
11/19/12
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