Charming, aren't we? My dear hypocrite.

Sun dried Barcelona, how quickly

You host my defeat.

I'm a weary love seeker.

My desires passionate and weak.

Whiskey stained are my lips

As I stumble throughout the streets

I am a man of the Lord.

Listen, please listen to me.

Just hold on a moment...

I need a swig of my drink.

My lyre is tuned to the right notes.

Might I seduce you with a ballad

That I half-heartedly wrote.

"It's a lovely fall day

As I'm standing here.

I love you, oh how I love you.

Stay with me my dear.

My sweet rose

I'll shower you with the sun.

My words they weave wonders

They fabricate my love.

Men dare not approach me

With my cast iron tongue.

Weak might be my physique,

But do not underestimate Rum"

Down, deep in Barcelona

My mattress awaits.

Do you have a bedspread?

A couple of sheets?

The taxi fare is no longer half a pence.

Would you happen to be able to spare a few cents?

Oh sweet pumpkin, my beautiful apple pie!

I have plans to smother the world

With the brilliance of my mind.

I only need this loan,

But! It'll be worth the wait.

Wisdom and knowledge?

Oh, for the proud.

I am a meek man

Please pay to venture to my humble abode.

Like honey dripping from my lips

Sweet fermented pleasures

You must bring me this!

Her, oh her!

She's nothing my sweet.

What is the point of the 8th world wonder?

If no one shares in Gods magnifique!

Follow me down this golden street.

I am a man of the word

And, I swear only to you

God promised me, thee!

I want to be glamor, shining brighter than I thought.

It sort of reminds me of glitter.

A soft scattering across the world,

And as hard as you try you can't ever get rid of every piece.

It always ends up showing up

When you thought it was gone.

-Me

__________

So, last night was so much fun! Mary Ellen and I went to Guitar Center and goofed around on the instruments. Then, Alex came to her house and we all walked to River Legacy Park. This started around 9:00 pm. Walking the trails at night is SO freaky, yet oddly exhilarating. I love the night time. There were SO many photo opportunities. I am so mad at myself for not bringing my camera. Anyway, so we are walking along and we go off the trail a bit to stare at the Trinity river (Which looks 'kinda' cool in the dark). I am infatuated with lighting. Chiaroscuro is the most dimension my art will get. Dark colors, I love dark colors. Red, greens, yellows are only good if they're near like colors. I don't want too much contrast. The only contrast I like is black and white. During my lifetime I've become more accepting of other colors, but since I was three years old my favorite color has been the same, black.

wow

So, ignore my previous post. He's alive. He finally answered one of my calls.

Now, he's going to wish he would've died because I'm going to chew him a new one.

Goodnight.

Where I wish I could be, but I'm not.

The second time around turns out to be more surprising.

You'd always assume it'd be the first time.

Assumptions will drive you insane.

Thinking one plus one equals two, every time.

Is there an escape from wondering about your fate?

-Me.

___________________________________________________________________

I really don't know the purpose of this whole blog, or why I'm writing it. I really don't have a whole lot to say. It is as if my creative juices have been drained from me. Usually, when 'traumatic' situations happen I'm flowing with poems. This time is the first time I have been just empty. Mostly it is the fear, the fear of not knowing if this all is true or not. If he's just not answering his phone, or if what he texted me on Thanksgiving was true.

Death

-The world.

I have reasons to believe a friend of mine has committed suicide. I'm no 100% sure though. He's a... how do I say this... not a very close friend in the sense that he's made himself very distant. He was more of a prayer request. Someone I met who has royally screwed up his life. I have never met someone like him. His outlook on life purely based on instant gratification. Pleasure being the killer. He destroyed every close connection, besides with me. As unbearable his attitude, and choice would be. I remained his friend. Why? those are the exact people who really need them. So it would be logical for him to contact me in his last hours... I don't know if it's selfish or not to think, WHY?! Why did you have to let me know? Put that weight upon my heart. Was it necessary? Now, now I'm worried... if I don't receive any contact from him by Tuesday I'm going up to his house to ask his parents. How horrible is it that I have to walk up the walkway, knock on the door, and look straight in the eye of a parent and ask, "Is your son... alive?"

I'm going about my merry way sometimes feeling guilty I'm enjoying life. Which I know is dumb, he chose to end his life.

But the imagery of him laying in the grass eyes peeled constantly staring at the Sun, moon, and stars yet not able to soak it in while every inch of his life drains out from his wrists.

I feel sick.

Sacrifice

In the Valley of Hinnom

Is where you will

Find me.

I saw the brink of the fall

Of humanity.

All in a day,

All in a day

I learned what humanity could be.

Deep, deep in the valley outside the

Holy City.

Oh god, Molech,

Would you spare me?

As I lay in this pit outside of

the Valley.

Pleased is this Artificial

Commodity.

Idolized is this romantic sacrifice.

I learned all about humanity,

Place between the suns.

I learned about humanity.

Gehenna, save me from Gehenna.

Too young I was.

So young, feeble, little,

And unsure.

Are you white as the lamb?

Is the filth off your hands?

Withering away

Miles away

From Galilee.

Yahweh, my shoulders

Are to frail

To carry the weight of

The ones who ceased me to Dwell

In the Living.

They found it fit to place me in Hell.

Sheol, the abode of the dead

is the constant propaganda running in my head.

If.

If it hadn't been for you

Twisting up your words

I never would've left

And, I never could've heard

I wouldn't of touched his hand

I wouldn't of seen his face

I couldn't of been this happy

If you hadn't hurt me

In the first place

If it hadn't been for the crash

I couldn't of walked this far

I wouldn't of seen the lost

And, saved them from war

If I hadn't been seeking you

I could've died in peace

Thinking I might just need

A basic reassuring grace

If I hadn't read

The words

that spilled onto my heart

These accidental fates

Tearing me apart

Broken

am I

Betterment

I seek

Overflowing Mercy

Redeem

...

Rescue me

Amanda's Soliloquy

I'm afraid of what my posthumous state will be.

That all I'll strive for I won't get to see.

I'm marching against society.

Is this a nihilistic state?

The stars are dimming

And the core of my existence is dry.

This is all unraveling as I am standing by.

Angry, at myself

I cage me within.

Hoping that maybe

The ice won't be so thin.

I was following the Pack.

Rehearsed words that tie around our throats.

Vibrating our chords in hope

That'll the bases will be covered

Before you go

Following in what we know

Passing it and letting it all

Flow

Holding hands with

The Large brass owl

We found in the yard

Not to long ago

We checked out of the Inn

Don't let this endeavor

Persuade you

To think

You

might actually

know

Why it is so hard

letting

go.

Once upon a.... oh forget it.

Hey, so, yeah!

I am waiting in anticipation for my co-worker (and a fellow writer friend) to tell me what she thinks of my poetry. She has recently finished a novel, and even though I haven't read it that shows a dedication to the romance of writing. I do not know a lot of dedicated writers, and I do not know a lot of credible critics. My writing has never been critiqued so I am excited and a tad bit nervous. Handing her those sheets of paper was like handing her some of my organs. Weird? Yes. But they're apart of me. When I write a poem I am putting my weird congested thoughts onto paper so I can sort them out. Those words in a sense are apart of me and I've amputated them off. The phantom pains are there, and I still have an emotional attachment to them even though they're gone. Anyway!

I want to start writing short stories, but, quite honestly I don't know where to start. If we were to define my mind it would be pretty similar to the definition of a freestyle poem. I need to advance my skills... somehow. One must always better themselves. Without goals, and purpose... I'd be on facebook all day. haha.

Faded are the colors and the light sets it to write.

Working back in the motions

Stepping in the footsteps we made the other night.

Rewinding past the fast forward

The notion does not exist

Pausing is unattainable

So, therefore I will not persist.

Eyes are growing bluer

Things are getting back their shine.

The world is expanding and the

Countertop

So far away

The picture is growing smaller

I've died to yet another day.

'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.

-Alice in Wonderland

Pathway.

His eyes were so sunken in.

That sometimes at the right angle dim spouts of light shone through.

So soft were his thoughts, and his words.

The harshness of his action were unheard.

Shallow beams in the night.

Follow the heartthrob.

Say, Good Night.

See the steel, and see your reflection.

The water never rippled, and the air stood still.

The ground remained scarred

A place where a soul escaped.

Cigarette butts placed neatly on the ground.

Lined up in single row, one's left lit.

The heat is suffocating

And the flames won't let up.

He walks away tired.

His eyes closed,

And his skin aged.

Marked by the desire for a different path.

In search of El Dorado...

I have followed in the American trend of thinking about what I want to be when I 'grow' up (When is that exactly?) where I want to live... family, children, friends, and oh yeah a husband. Just let me tell you something I've grown to despise Suburbia. I've been trying desperately to have a good attitude about my circumstances. Listing off how much I'm blessed, I'm not being hunted down, raped, molested, and all the other horrific acts available in this lovely world. I've been striving to have patience, considering it's a virtue and all that jazz.

I literally found a gray hair yesterday, and I'm convinced it's from all this 'striving'! haha.

I truly want to create my own community. Take a chunk of luscious land and start my own little world. So that besides getting things done for my basic needs I'd paint, write, photograph, and read all day. I know I've mentioned this before but it has been weighing heavily on my mind, and it's a bit outrageous how much I truly crave this utopia.

But there is only so much complaining/bullshitting/whining a human can do before it becomes mundane and there isn't the slightest bit of satisfaction. So what on EARTH am I going to do? I could start a revolution and make everyone go back to the primitive times... but I have homework I need to do.

/sigh/

Positive attitude, positive attitude, POSITIVE ATTITUDE!

This is oh so hard. I have a naturally realistic point of view, and that teeters on the edge of being a pessimist. Which any true realist can relate too. I'm cutting off years with all this worry.

It's my own fault really...

I'm not satisfied with parties, drinking, and talking to boys who don't really know what they're even talking about...

superb.

See, I'm my own worst enemy.

Rome was defeated from within.

Well, it is evident I care too much. I allow society, money, and education cage me in.

Wisdom is more freeing... but I'm not permitted to have experience to create my wisdom.

I am desensitizing myself. It is the most horrible thing, but my mind does that so I can cope with all the 'issues' I'm dealing with. Issues is in quotes, because I really don't have issues. I just do not have perfection.

Oh well.

That'd be more boring than how my existence is right now.

That'll all change soon, time just needs to ripen my plans.

I've already decided I want a lot of land with a beautiful large home, a place where my children can run wild and just embrace nature. Researching all these great women I respect i.e. Ayn Rand, and Sally Mann. Seeing how they were extraordinary, and still married and even had children makes me hopeful for my future.

I really need to find the cord to plug in my typewriter. That way I can start typing up my poetry and getting a nice little folder together.

I've thought of a million different poems, but always when I can't record them, drat.

Oh well, there is ALWAYS more where that came from.

Goodnight.

So, now it unfolds...

Well, I'm officially obsessed with Sally Mann. I'm doing a informative speech on her tomorrow, and I've come up with this amazing idea to in a sense thank her for the inspiration her artwork has given me. Just like how Andy Warhol did pictures for all of Capotes short stories... I'm going to write her a poem for each of her 'Deep South' pictures and send it to her as a gift of some sorts. I feel guilty almost, last night at church I couldn't stop thinking about the poems I was going to write that I even started listing the things I wanted to say. Heh, oh well.

I have come to the realization that I'm pretty class judgmental. Not, in a racist sense, but more in an educational sense. I full heartedly agree with Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. ESPECIALLY Aristotle when they say that not pursuing knowledge and wisdom is a sin of sorts. When people use 'can' instead of 'may', or 'good' instead of 'well' my skin crawls. I shouldn't care so much, but I think people should be better or at least want to be. I'm wasting my energy though... and I know it. It isn't that I'm some Albert Einstein or Sir Richard Branson, but I feel I'm ahead of the game because I at least KNOW what is wrong with me. haha. I'm working on not being 'educationally' judgmental but is definitely not some skip through the flowers.

I can see why a lot of liberals are liberal. I think I know what is right, and if everyone were to do it MY way the world would be a hell of a better place to live. So let me make laws telling you what to eat because I've researched and I KNOW what is healthy, and I KNOW what we all should be learning. Don't worry I haven't gone all democrat on you... I just see the appeal. But than you have to be logical and unless people make these things their values society will remain stagnant. You can't TELL someone to not go eat McDonalds every day they have to learn for themselves. This is where Ayn Rand's Ethical Egoism comes in handy, because not only does it advocate for people to better themselves and do what is best for them, but to also uses REASON when making decisions.

I've heard the arguments about how if we were to do what we think is best that wouldn't be helpful at all because some people don't see anything wrong with stealing, murdering, et cetera. Which does show a flaw in the system. Because we definitely do not live in an utopian egalitarian society. So, like most theories and philosophies they work best in the setting the philosopher/teacher tells them in. It's hard to pick the best thing for the real world. Because a dictatorship would work if the leader was well perfect, and democracy would be perfect...if well hah the people were. It helps me put into perspective when the government in the United States isn't as I would like it to be. I don't agree with Obamas health care plan, but I see what he's saying and the good he's trying to install. Because of COURSE money isn't everything and people are more. Sometimes what is ideal isn't what will work. Unity is a hard thing to conduct. With the diversity in this country is makes it seemingly harder.

As I'm typing this it makes me wonder... how many blogs are being maintained on this website 'Blogger' alone? How all these people have opinions and things to say that they feel are important. What makes my blog any different, or dare I say better than theirs?

I guess people who care about you care about what you think, and if you have credibility (aka College degree, experience, et cetera) more people will care.

I'm just a little 19 year old girl sitting in her living room sharing this earth with the billions of people out there. Each individual with his vast yet narrow world.

It is compelling and even intimidating to think there might be someone whose better at poetry than me, or more articulate with an expansive vocabulary. And, here I sit thinking my thoughts are so important. But are they? There is truly nothing extremely new under the sun, and all will blow away with the wind... but that shouldn't prohibit me from still doing what I do, and enjoying the life that I lead. Deep down I just know that there is more for me than just being a statistic in the masses. I'm led even compelled to say I know I will be well known even if it's only in Texas. I'm even honest enough to say... I have to be.

Oh the internet that enables the mask for which we hide behind.

As 'convenient' the internet and all electronic devices are... I secretly despise them. They cheapen our work as Creators. I was really inspired by my best friend Mary Ellen when she said that we're made in God's image which enables us to....create.

I have never thought about that before until she said that. Which pretty much explains everything. When people argue that we're not a higher species I always point out how we're the only species that creates things beyond our basic instinctual needs. That is the most beautiful thing I've ever known, possibly.

I have a whole new perspective on, well, anything anyone creates. Because it is magnificent that they even have the ability to merely create it.

Poetry to come soon. Hopefully the Sally Mann Poems :)

Successful art.

My one true love is poetry. Being able to create art with words is a skill I both admire and try to perfect. For a while I was caught up in making my work known, famous even. But that foolish notion has passed. I don't care if the New York Times deems my art worthy of its black print. I've been writing poetry since the second grade for one sole reason, because I love it. Throughout the years my art was very basic. Simples lines talking about whispering snow, and sweet dreams. Progressing towards what it is now... it's my protection in a way. A gift you could almost call it that God has given to me so I can deal with the ways of the world. So, I post my work for pure enjoyment. People have acted as if I'm gloating or showing off. Why is it okay for you to post a picture of you cheerleading or playing basketball or drinking at a party and I can't post my work?

Facebook isn't my social outlet, or a way for me to broadcast my private emotions. It is an easy way to share my work, and if you don't like it delete me. There are plenty more people out there that will use 'facebook' and 'blogging' as a cheap gossip mechanism that you can creep on.

With that said...

Keeping my eyes locked on your gaze.

My soul turns back at midnight.

Taking a flight straight to the sun.

Sol of my whole existence.

Humanity killing the society.

Civilization resorting to the instinct.

Advancing yet wishing for a beastly character.

Will the laws and decrees make it all better?

I'd die for you, is that the worse thing I could do?

Selling my soul to the moneymaker.

Stealing words, and chances.

Can't you see this is why?

I must take flight, before it all disappears at midnight.

The rare inspiration.

Sally Mann.

I am in love with Sally Mann's photography. Literally, in love. I spent about an hour today in Barnes and Noble starring at her book "Deep South." Her pictures are not only intricate and sharp, but whimsical and mysterious. It makes me wish I had the time to trek around the United States and stop whenever I please and takes pictures. There peaceful and depressing images.

I want to write a poem about every single one of her pictures. Maybe I will and I'll send it to her as a gift. That'd be pretty neat. :)

::Edit::

Last night I had a dream, I was walking through a valley and the rivers and trees started curling, growing darker, and growing taller. The images all began to get sharper and more clear. Whilst this was happening I was frantically searching for my camera to I could capture the amazing event. But I couldn't find it. The river started glowing gold, but not in a cheap artificial way. More like the sun is hiding in the river kind of way. My skin grew warm, and I started to cry because I couldn't get my camera to work, and this was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

My interpretation of this is I know exactly what I want and what is beautiful, but for some reason I can't catch it. I really need to know how.

I need an escape.

You and Me.

There is something I must disclose to you.

I've been dying everyday since I met you.

This isn't exactly depressing news.

I'm dying because I'm growing something new.

The sun couldn't warm me, and I don't have much stealth.

The rain it fell, but didn't help my health.

My money is gone, and I've sold everything I own.

How this could be possible... I don't even know.

But it's all gone, but it's you I've found.

So, I'm running towards the wall that I built myself.

Climbing over the struggles I made with my wealth.

This is all I have to offer; my matted hair and glassy eyes,

My raspy voice, and jaded lies.

My teeth remain white because I still brush at night.

The ritual must be something, because it lets me do something right.

Don't waste your money on the headstone,

The flowers,

And the service that won't last.

Buy me a pair of slacks and a martini glass.

Drive me up town to the

Big art affair

There is a portrait I must show.

I painted a picture of my new self

It has a soul and a contagious laugh.

Don't worry I'll pay you back for the gas,

I'm doing it all, this is so you'll forget

The past.

I'm coming back, honey.

It'll be a blast.

I've died, but that's just because

The old me would never last.