"jolla" poems
The cloud are reflecting off my computer screen
Moving at a rapid pace
They have somewhere to be
They have to move on
Fading into my shadow
They’re like daggers
My head is like daggers
And my smile is like a rifle
Loops one more time
Just picking the achy strings
I think he’s exhausted
Really just ******* tired
And the way he sings
Just wants to speak
And pour all of his heart
Thoughts
Emotions
Pain
Pain
Pain
These pitches, John, they aren’t real
They aren’t right
You aren’t right
I’m listening to this for you
Because last night was the night I took your life
I was tired too
I was tired and used your insecurities
As an excuse
To blow you off
Bryce come back please
I love you
I CAN’T SEE WHAT I’m typing anymore
It’s waterwashed
I love you I love you
I lov you please
Please trust me
My tears are ocean currents
My calves are the sand
Pull me to La Jolla please now
Hold my hand Bryce
You’ll be unconscience in 5 minutes
Fiberglass isn’t all that dependable
Fiberglass will float on
You’re heart is lead
Let it sink
Hold my hand
Let it sink
They’ll find our bodies
Eaten decayed by algae
You look just as fine with your
Skin pruned and ribcage exposed
I would kiss you all the same with your
Toes consumed by fishes
4 times over John
4 times you don’t sound anymore like an answer
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
Lavender parted by blunt wind:
the unkempt morning hair
of a park's running path.
Pale-green grass crawls up everywhere
in tufts like a thousand lost toupées.
In spring
cars, northbound from San Diego,
packed with kids and camping tools
or slimmer businessmen,
get full view of it:
a transient glance
between La Jolla and Los Angeles,
a moment of flashing color amid asphalt miles.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
Before hearing about your death
I began a novel inspired by you
and your struggle with the truth--
The truth of who you were,
what you wanted of life and of me.
And it became a journey
into the past, into a life
that had happened before
we met, decades ago,
and after we parted for good,
I wove a new life out of remnants,
of things I knew or just supposed.
And like a good researcher,
I told of your parents' failings,
the darker side of love.
Of your grandmother and friends,
and even your cousin who
brought you to me,
Luring you out of the homogeneous crowd
and into our perfect valley--
"the land of spires and dreams".
I even spoke warmly of our artless love
and our drifting apart like ghost ships.
After our second parting,
when you left the mortal coil,
I tried not to reminisce about us,
for the story was yours, not mine,
But I fear that a mirror kept
cropping up behind me and
around corners, erasing mystery.
Narcissus caught me time and again.
Even so, I created times for you
that I had never seen or heard.
I have you swimming off La Jolla,
traipsing on mountain paths
in the wilds of British Columbia,
or arguing with your wife
in that mansion you dreamed of.
I invented a girl you would like
and two kids who loved you
in spite of everything.
Your memories of me became
less urgent, locked in a chess box,
in songs or on film, hidden away.
I analyzed your youth, your vanity,
lust, boredom, mistakes and age.
And when it came time for you
to make a decision: to stay or go
again, either west or east,
I stopped and looked over your life,
rolled out flat, like the American plain
from western crags to eastern city
and like a broken record,
the choice shuttled back and forth,
not letting me decide for you.
Glancing at a photo
of your childhood home,
I realized at last,
not that you had died too soon,
but that I really never knew you.
Apr 10, 2022
Apr 10, 2022 at 6:00 PM UTC
dearly beloved
Kagan only
to brighten
robe in
La Jolla
with Saint
Mark there
on the
Square when
Harlem was
despair yet
Georgetown there
made this
legal parade
mirrored in
this Fall
of 2020
Jun 18, 2020
Jun 18, 2020 at 12:48 PM UTC
Grains of sand fall through the cracks.
Gritty & hot between your toes.
Squishy & mushy in the salty water.
Waves crash forward one after another.
During the winter & the summer.
The rocks near the shore have seagulls.
They are waiting for the fish.
Their silent daily wish.
At the beach it was just us two.
I couldn't are anyone else there I knew.
The color of the water was green & blue.
The ghost voice speaks, but can it see?
La Jolla Cliffs is haunted.
On video tape in 2008 I recorded it's voice that taunted.
Then it said ' Ha ha, I found you".
Spooky right? It wasn't like Casper saying "boo".
It said " Ariel come closer".
It's like it chose her.
Seashells wash up on the shore.
Like little presents from the sea floor.
The relentless sun bakes your flesh.
Sunblock or sunscreen works the best.
Feeling thirsty to drink some ice water.
Under the shade from the trees just me & my daughter.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 11:03 PM UTC
Blistered hands, blistered feet
Hit hard and left confused
Is the rocking boat or the betrayal
making me sick?
The salt water on my cheeks
either came from the ocean or my eyes
But what difference does it make
Blistered hands, blistered feet
Broken heart
Two thousand miles couldn't soften the blow
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
I've never been quite crazy
or ever fully sane
but I swear to God I've seen you here
on a day when there was rain.
Did we share the same umbrella
or maybe a cup of tea,
I tend to fall in love
with all the eyes I see.
Tears clouded corners
of your softened emerald eyes;
your fist hit the table,
blood began to rise.
The record player sang and wailed
a million broken songs
and in a flash I saw your hands
and knew I was all wrong.
History reminded me
you were no face unknown,
I know those emerald eyes,
those hands have held my own.
I can't recall who did what
beneath that hazy sky
but my fingertips warn
it's not worthy of a try.
I turn to escape your haunting eyes
but notice, heavy with regret
your crooked smile as I catch a whiff
of tangerine and cigarette.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 7:25 PM UTC
I am from
waking up at 5 a.m.
and making my dad pour me a glass
of chocolate milk and put in
the Tom & Jerry VCR tape.
I am from
the years spent on stage
performing, acting, dancing,
making music from the keys and strings of instruments
that I have since abandoned.
I am from
the technology that shaped me,
which I cannot live without-
the shows and movies and games; staying up,
the bright screen of my laptop glaring against the darkness of my room.
I am from
crying until my eyes are red and raw,
happy and sad and laughing tears
from the deaths and lives and breakups and reunions
of the characters and shows I will never forget.
I am from
lying in my bed
listening to the music that has healed me,
blaring in my ears
and against the four walls that enclose me.
I am from
the places I’ve been-
from La Jolla to Lancaster to Boston and Nanjing,
to the places I wish to go-
from Sydney to Quebec to Venice and Chicago.
I am from
homework and studying and tests,
and homework and studying and tests.
Yearning for college since middle school,
to be around people who crave knowledge, too.
I am from
Modus Ponens and Modus Tollens and Disjunctive Syllogism,
and memorizing fallacies and philosophy arguments at 8 a.m.,
the course that challenged me beyond my limits,
the course that introduced me to my favorite place in the world.
I am from
my home away from home-
lying on the grass of the quad,
dancing beneath the stars
to the Canon, the soundtrack of my youth.
I am from
the memories I hold
within polaroids and photos behind screens,
within songs and books and between the lines
of the poems that I have bled from my heart onto paper.
I am from
my previous and continuing attempts to escape this town,
and the meaningless interactions within the cold halls of highschool;
trying to find the people who will become my people
and the places I will call home.
j.z.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
Johdatat meitä läpi kapeiden portaikkojen, poikki kaltevien askelmien, jotka saattavat pettää niille astuessa
Puiden reunustamille kujille, joilla luonto tuntuu tukahtuvan omaan vihreyteensä ja kesäyön hämärään
Läpi ihmismassan, jolla on päällään kimaltavia mekkoja ja suussaan kieliä, joita en täysin ymmärrä
Paikkoihin maanpinnan alapuolelle, jotka ovat nekin laitojaan myöten täynnä
Vietämme niissä hetken kerrallaan, muiden ympäröimänä mutta silti kovin kahden
Halusit eksyä meihin ja siihen iltaan, enkä minäkään uskalla toivoa mitään muuta
Pian kätesi hivuttautuu omaani ja olemme taas ulkona
Pysähdymme katselemaan, kuinka horisontin takaa alkaa päivä nousta heti kahden jälkeen
Korkeiden rakennusten estäessä merituulen pääsyn keuhkoihin ja takin sisään
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 7:31 AM UTC
Hawks, Eagles, Falcon, Owls, & Seagulls.
Ariel always wants to go to the beach.
So the ocean water she can touch & reach.
About seashells to show & tell.
But I don't want her to get sunburned.
A lesson we already learned.
One time we took the cat on his harness leash & he got scared.
To see what it would be like but we never brought him again because we cared.
We used to video tape it so we'd remember.
How little she was & cute we were.
It has been two years since we last went.
We'd only stay for thirty minutes something was what it meant.
© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved,
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
I was sitting by the Jolla tree
writing a list of what I need
it started with world peace
and ended in tears of children
That was the list sitting by the Jolla tree
my list was d cup, would you like to see
love me, hate me
but you will never be rid of me
I am shaving off my beard
and colouring my hair ruby red
for I care little of myself
and soon I will be dead
I am a rabble in my own underwear
a faded clown worlds apart
my love is for words
it's a pity we have to part
I was made to crash and burn
this is the wage I earned
what was it all for
what the hell did I learn
For I crash and burn
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 5:23 AM UTC