untitled #11

Arranging these typical feelings

That moisten my eyes

morph my pale skin

dilate my pupils

allowing light to flow

flow deeply into

my ever deepening

acknowledgment

That there is nothing more

To dwell on

All there is

is what will be

_____________

I am so fearful right now, there is so much I want to do. But my body, mind, and whole entirety is exhausted. I never minded this state I've been condemned to, but this stagnant pace is slowly ripping me apart.

Untitled #10

We could say it in a million words.

Or say it in one.

Countless times it has been explained

Such confusion it has caused.

We only hope deep in our souls

That our hearts speak the truth

The seven sins that weigh in

taking its unholy toll

Stripping us of our hard works

Taking all we know

Sending resentment to dwell

Within or minds

more dangerous than cancer

tumors

or the like

The hope that maybe we'll say

say something that'll print us on

This date

Forever will our works matter

Simply

just our

fate

Books.

I am overwhelming myself with books. I keep starting them but not finishing. I just started "Woman in love" by D. H. Lawrence and I have still yet to finish:

1) Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand

2) Crime and Punishment by Feodor Dostoevsky

3) In Cold Blood by Truman Capote

4) PUSH by Sapphire

5) The interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud

It is overwhelming all the books in the world. There are immense amounts of books just waiting for me and I don't even know what they are about or who they're by. Than, there are books that just keep getting published.

Innumerable ideas, stories, and philosophies going uncovered by my eyes. How does one establish themselves as a writer in this world. What makes my ideas as significant as the next persons? I guess it is the same as any other genre of artistic pleasures.

What makes you a famous painter, actor, musician, singer?

Sets you apart from the rest of the crowd and you beat the spans of time. Living beyond your time. While people watch your movies, read your books, listen to your music, and view your art. Laying at you rot in your death spot. Looking from Heaven or Hell

I'd have to say my only chance for survival is to rely on God. He's the only one that can set me apart from the rest.

I'm so exhausted, yet restless.

Still.

Knowledge.

It really drives me insane when someone knows more than I do about certain topics. Even when it is topics I could care-a-less about. Topics such as gardening, sewing, and buxom actresses... But the urge to research starts to boil and will continue until it explodes from all the suppressed energy withheld. I just don't have time to do every single little thing I want. Sometimes I contemplate deleting my facebook. I abhor it more every single day. It consumes so much of my time. It consists of me looking at stupid stuff. Things like albums that possess photos of absolutely nothing important.

I need to get back into my groove of reading. My new school schedule will hopefully allow more reading time. I want to get my hands on everything. I wish I could just use my brain as a literal sponge and sop up information by swiping my brain across pages. That is and always will merely be a wish. I look forward to this new semester and learning new things. I'm going to miss my philosophy class. That class opened up so many doors and pathways of thinking for me. I adored it.

I need to get a new passion in life. Something I can read about, write about, and that'll give me more purpose. SOMETHING.

As of lately, everything bores me.

Sigh.

Oh well. Keeping up my writing in hopes of some sort of advancement. Have I mentioned I need to join a writers group?

UGH! So much I want to do... so little time.

I don't want to write.

Sometimes,

I have absolutely nothing to say. But as a wise friend and fellow writer told me, "don't stop writing, ever." So I must continue. That is the only way to get better.

My direction will be pertaining to school starting up this week on Tuesday. I'm very excited to see who my classmates are and my professors. Not excited about my new and not as exciting workload. I have to remind myself though that every piece of new information learned is something that I can apply to my writing.

Tomorrow, I am going shopping for a new school outfit. Not that I need one, but, it is still nice to have an excuse.

I am debating on edgy and sexy or hippy and feminine. I know I'll go edgy and sexy. Clothing is my outfit. It says what I wish I could be doing sometimes. I just need to find people who want to do the same things I do.

One thing I need to do is memorize my favorite poem "Bluebird" by Bukowski.

My ex-memorized it for me while we were together and it made me really want to myself. So I could softly whisper the words to myself whenever I wished. For now, I must resort to scribbling it out on my wrist and pretending it is a tattoo.

Sometimes I think I'm too cautious to be a poet. How will my poetry be relatable if I don't do anything to make people feel better about themselves? But then I have to ask myself am I doing this for them or for me? Me, of course.

I also need to join a writers group. I also have interests in writing a novel... mostly because I like the idea of it. I don't really want to sit down and write one. I have nothing I want to say in such full length. I think people talk too much as it is.

I am fully obsessed with drawing and thinking about hearts. Not the little cute hearts that 8-year-old girls scribble on their Valentine cards, but the organ. The muscle that pumps blood through our veins. I'm also interested in getting a bit of the poem, "Bluebird" tattooed on me. I think that would be so neat.

What else can I type about that is of random nature?

Been praying to God a lot really truly getting to know him. Struggling sometimes with the whole thing, but he takes such great care of me... how can I doubt sometimes?

I have a feeling someday God will say, Well done my good and faithful servant.

I also have vowed to stop swearing, completely. As a Christian, I need to stand apart from the crowd, and I honestly feel I do in most areas of my life. The swearing needs to stop because I know for a fact I can be funny without swearing.

Well, that is enough rambling for today. I'm off to listen to proverbs and sleep.

...

No one wants to be reminded that they'll die.

I hope this reminds you.

Everything is a reminder really.

I could present you with rhymes of

Puppies, lullabies, popsicles for free

On hot summer days

When all you wear is your swimsuit

Holding the popsicle in your mouth

While your under water

Feeling as if you're defying

Some sort

of scientific rule

Capturing the cold tangy juices

being cast down your throat by your tongue

No, I won't write about that

I want to write about

dark things

things that'll make you regret

Those hours you laid in bed

doing nothing

but refreshing your facebook page

listening to some pop artist on repeat

When you could've been creating something

Saving the world

Or at least cleaning up your damn room

So you'll rot away while you're still living

Worrying about the cliche' things

Sitcoms tell us we should worry about

Laugh about

Cry about

I don't cry about dying

I weep for the chances I missed

The times I thought I was right

But wrong

The fact that death is plastered

All over everything

Yet no one sees it

And they just sit their

expanding their bodies

with the lies

that we're immortal.

Avatar.

It should be enchanting meeting this recreation

But than, Should I be surprised if I've already encountered

This being

Nothing new is under the sun

The old saying goes

This reoccurring event

I had befriended an Avatar

Once again

I knew after while

It was the same exact friend

I've met you before

I would scream in my mind

Wondering

Why can't escape this poisionous cycle

stumbling upon this fallen deity

Every time

Post-New Years...resolutions?

I have been trying to write something for the past hour and a half and no such luck. Ignoring the fact I have a splitting headache I think I've typed all the poems out of me, at least for a little while. I have dry spells now and again. When everything seems so... cliche' I'll still keep writing though. I must...HAVE to keep improving

Without my writing, I'm not sure my sanity would remain intact.

So, for this blog entry, I'm taking a bit of a break.

Still writing of course :)

But, a poem break.

I enjoy reading Bukowski's poems more anyway...

So, I'm realizing that this past new years eve I was a horrible American and did not write or list any New years resolutions. Bad, bad me!

So to make up for my lack of initiative, or drive to write such a list

I'm making one now...

1) Get all A's this year

-I slacked off a bit last year, getting by on the bare minimum

I still managed A's and B's but still if I dedicate myself I know a 4.0 would be a breeze

2) Get some scholarships and fill out FASFA

- No more community college for me next fall, UNT all the way

And, that is expensive. I want as little debt as possible

3) Join some sort of writing club/workshop

-Well obviously to improve my writing

4) Start sending out my poetry to be published

-Because, well, I want to share my love with everyone

5) read as many books as possible

-Cause, I can and I will

6) Start reading the Bible daily

-I finally got biblegateway working on my computer (So I can have the Bible read to me!) now it is much easier to be committed too, but I want it daily versus a few times a week

7) Start doing yoga or something

-Not because I don't love my body, but it is just good for me and plus I love working out :)

8) Start working on my book, or at least the outline

-I have the rest of my life to write a book, might as well start it now

9)Get film for my polaroid camera and my new fold out 1950's

-I really want to make photography as a hobby. I've loved it for as long as I can remember! Since 3rd grade I'd say

10) Get really good with oils and Acyrlics

-Because I love art, duh

11) Get into modeling

-Because I want the extra money, andddd I hate even numbers

Hopefully, I'll have more entertaining posts in the future, more poetry filled ones!

night.

Realizing the reality

That the world isn't mine

I've lost the key

That supposedly unlocked the door

To infinity

But all I got was Narnia

A load of shit

Trying to love all at once

So much

that at the most random moment

I give in

You gave in

I watch

As the sun burns through the atmosphere

The meteorologists

geologist

psychologist

Predict we'll die

Thanks for the news

Because I thought

for once I'd give living a try

You think this is depressing?

Try undressing and seeing

half of you has deteriorated away

The kids in China are being cut in half

The children of Africa die at their governments wrath

I'm a spawn of America and my ass is too fat

But I'll just kick it, live it up,

Supplement the joy, and toss it up.

Cut me open and you'll see inside

The mechanics of a machine

Rusting because of overdrive

Fill in that with collagen

Plump up my lips

So I can give the man

a sloppy wet kiss.

I'll surrender all my writing

To the flames

Knowing Humanity's opinion

is my ticket to fame

My only way to you

is through a cheap can of

Blue Ribbon

But I spent all of my money

on Bukowski, and damaged photographs

I'd ask you to wait

but you already left.

Hello.

Sin City

Glassy lights

Isn't this pretty?

Oh the insanity

That is tumorous in my brain

Craving the attention

Leaking out the poison

Sharpening my blades

Reducing the noises

We aren't here to gamble

with the plastic and currency

Sedating you with this evil

Transparently

I'm a killer

Dying in my head

The voices in my mind

Are killing the sanity

All that is left

of my meager existence

To socialize

with humanity

Dirty and rotten

Weighted are these

That

I'm presenting you

with the truth

So please

leave

Postal

Send a postcard

to the white room

Instead

Sin City

isn't a city

but the world

in my head

Cheap

Burnt plastic flavor

smell

resting on my lips

eyes

fingers

Recreated

copy & paste

Scrolling

and seen millions of times

Shared with your network

my network

the network

They know

The most intimate of details

sayings and looks of you

You're your own personal

tabloid

exploit

slander

yourself

I love you

I love you

I love you

Now he, she,

WE

know

that you two

love

Than we'll

Hold everything in

When the status changes

roll on in

Than, you'll be sure to announce

You love

again

Slip.

Seasoned are we

Ripened for the weakened

That haunt our meticulous walks

Wandering in hope that we'll find that inspiration

That oh so daunting aspiration

That'll pave our canvas with motivation

Though we are killed by the meek

Keeping our cupcakes in the pantry

Our hearts in the cupboard

I love the feeling of the knife blade

Inserted in my back

Better yet, in my sternum

Where I can see the whole act

This'll repeat

I'll refill my prescription

Not just a drug

But the whole correlation

Quite the opposite of motivation

The very reason we all give up

The sweet tangy venom

We let our minds slurp up

Tip of the old glass

With a shot of wait

My head will stop bleeding

This wall will erode

The continual beating

That allows us to justify

Our woes

So Salud! To the bounds in which

We die

The justifications of how it is okay

Because at one point,

we tried?

ctrl+alt+delete

Hey, so, yeah

I know we haven't known each other

For the standard amount of time

I should wait till I tell you

This

But, why wait

?

What if I die

tomorrow

And, then!

You'll never know

Or what if I die

Today Which could be worse

Because I know today better than I'll know tomorrow

But than tomorrow is whatever

I

want it to be

At least right now

Well, my soul is broken

Yes, this is what I had to tell you

I am broken

I'm already dead

All that exists of me

Are these continual

Images

Slithering in my head

Sometimes dripping out of

My pores

onto

Paper or

strategically on my

Typewriter

Forming words

In the English language

creating formations

that might leave you some

sort of

Image

Hoping that this is all more obvious

Than I make it out to be

In which all that I ever thought

Wouldn't/Couldn't/Shouldn't

MATTER

Anyway,

All I hope is

That this will possibly be a little bit more clear

For you.

So that you'll stop trying

to make out

What all of this could

should

Would

Be about.

01022010

Destroying everything

Ready for the day to start.

Loving the world

Through the eyes of a Saint

Living on only pain and the glamour

Better watch out

I'm breathing in everything but oxygen.

Reading poetry.

I have come to the conclusion that my poetry is slowly regressing and becoming mediocre with hints of cliche'.

I am reading an immense amount of Charles Bukowski and Rainer Marie Rilke.

Their way with words not only destroys anything I've ever written

They challenge me to be better.

The problem with me is I don't have a problem.

These famous poets often have this reoccurring monster who held them hostage as the harbored their vengeance. Leaving them passionate and full of flaming emotion.

I am not easily (genuinely) excited, saddened, or even angered.

My emotions are flippant and are easily dismissed.

If I happen to feel a moment of that fleeting passion

I better have a piece of paper or something to record my thoughts with.

Otherwise, that piece of art vanishes along with the emotion that birthed it.

So I am studying these great artists hoping to capture their flair.

Not changing my way of course, but still learning from the greats.

E. E. Cummings, Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Frost, and Emily Dickson.

Dismissing the aspect of me actually liking their poetry or not

I still study them praying, and hoping that their supreme intellect rubs off on me.

No matter, I have the raw material I just need to set it wild or tame it.

We'll see what the future of my poetry holds.