Saturday, April 30, 2005

An excerpt from an english 'romeo and juliet' assignment.

...For love met only once may not recognize it is love.
I can't tell him..
that I'm always lost,
that I'm always scared,
that I'm always more dead than alive.
Because boys just don't understand,
that sometimes even having wings,
won't make you fly.
And this isn't what I wanted,
of love.
This isn't the symphony
that haunts my weary mind.
I can't concentrate
on life.
I just can't live,
without death.
I just can't seem
to stop hurting you.
And I keep yelling at you,
to stab me back,
put the gun against my head,
as I did with you,
but you won't,
because you always said,
that you would never hurt
a girl.
I'm afraid...
of myself.
I was never so scared as now.

Friday, April 29, 2005

I met him on a cold, cloudy day,
down by the river's side.
He smiled in a curious fashion
and jumped with all his might,
down off the ledge that held the trees,
and onto the rocky decline,
of rushing river sounds.
I hung my arms on a silver branch,
and watched him with ever-blinking eyes.
He waved his arms and laughed mightily.
He called me over to him, to the river.
And we held hands and jumped in,
How vain are you to look through a window
and see your own reflection
rather than what lays outside the pane of glass?
Be cruel!
Be harsh!
I surely have suffered worse.
You are a plague
that darkens the hours,
when I try to fall asleep
-wake up in a sweat-
and the nightmares in days filled with resouding light.
How do you see!
Wearing eyeglasses!
Would you not go blind, neigh even cross-eyed?
From staring too long into circled glass,
looking for a glimpse of beauty,
in your own eyes?
Rinse me clean
of your vulgar thoughts.
Find me safe
in a web of design
made by purest intricacies.
I cannot live
side by side
to someone who does not understand
the darkness of their own soul!
The vanity that turns them to fools in a rich man's land!
Or be me not a tortured soul
to listen to vagrant pleas,
to be ever wary of unturned displeasantries,
to wish them dead!
Maybe If I, too, look -yearn- into a mirror for long enough hours,
I will see not what lays on the inside,
and simply a soul
with the same hair-style philosophies
and tired red lips
as all of the others
that put on such elaborate masks.
I will cry until the glitter is gone from mine eyes,
and I am dead, as well, on the inside.
Catch me, I'm falling.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

Spanish Homework

(sidenote: it may translate funny because it doesn't have letters with accents over them..)

Hola. Me llamo _______. Soy de _______. Tengo dieciseis anos, y me gusta leer muchos libros. Me encanta escribir, pero no me gusta escribir examanes. Me gustan mis amigos, sobretodo mi mejor amiga, Elly, y mis amigas de la escuela. No soy muy estudiosa, pero soy inteligente. Me gustaria recibir y escribir mensajes electronicos. Te gustaria escribirme?
If ignorance is bliss, let me not be educated in the ways of men.
Let me not suffer before I can truly see the sun.
Let me love, without death to weigh me down.
Let me be.
Oh, please.
Oh, please.
Just let me find
my own kind of grace.

(side note: My teachers are putting crack in their cereal. They've gone coo-coo, for sure.)

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Who says that the sky is blue?
Who says that the grass is green?
Transfix your eyes.
And be loved again.
Some random word doodles that I did when I was bored in class...

See me through sapphire eyes in the din of the hollow moonlight. I trace cut-out stars in the skies of your reflection, by wavering night.

Forget I lived.
He drew out an exasperated breath. His eyes closing in final restoration. I imagined the lines in his face as I closed my eyes. I imagined the deepness of his eyes. I shuddered as all my energy went into his life and I wondered if I would be alive again to see the frown in his lips or the crease in his brow as he saw my limp body, lying softly on the tinted ground. And with my last breath, I uttered, in hopes that he would hear my voice, "Forget I lived."

Rose-coloured lips, and wavering hips. Her eyes the colour of sandstorm. I remembered why I loved to hate you so much.

Monday, April 25, 2005

For Elly (My most stressed, but most wonderful friend in the whole entire galaxy, stars combined)

A light shimmers vaguely at the end of a transcending darkness.
You can stand only a million trials and tests of fate and strength,
until you are forced, in shackles, to give up.
Head hung low, you seek shelter through the torrent of icy sunshine,
that bleeds down on you in black and white streams of harsh solidarity.
The world is filled with wondrous colourful things and yet,
you can only see them from inside prison bars.
Is there any hope at all?
Even the light seems too far to reach, too small, too insignificant;
just like you feel at this very moment.
If I could,
I would give you my everything.
If I could,
I would sprinkle hope into your hurricane of destruction.
If I could,
I would try to shield you from all of this,
with armor made of rainbows and entwisted gold filigree.
If I could...
And I wish...
that I could only help you more,
be a better friend,
so that you don't have to feel alone,
in this harsh land.
So I will sit, at the edge of the land every day, and every night.
I will be the watchman to the lighthouse of your wavering hope.
I will shine that beam to the hollows of your heart,
and through the endless tunnel of your seeming grave.
I will be there,
with a billion-watt bulb,
waiting for you.
And if I don't see the sails of your tattered, but rebuilding ship,
on the horizon,
and tales of your discontent reach to extreme heights;
the waves too high for you to reach the shore,
then I will walk to the edge of that platform and dive into the sea.
For no tide can keep me from your side.
A million mile ocean will never tear me from believing that you are,
and always will be,
the brilliant moon in my darkest sky.
For you, and only you, can make me remember most fondly the days
when the rain falls so heavily it makes you want to scream,
and all you can do is slip off your shoes and stand in a puddle,
in the back of an alley,
with your best friend,
cursing it all,
in the best of ways.
We don't need umbrellas,
when we have internal sunshine.
Because I will always love you.

Sunday, April 24, 2005

So this is what it has come to be.
In some ways I always knew that you would leave.
I just thought that you would say goodbye.
Instead of simply leaving.
And me,
standing in the doorway,
with a hollowed heart,
watching you,
as you sling your pack,
full of memories,
over your back.
Tell me...
Did it hurt?
Did it sting?
Did your eyes well up until you were wiping back tears,
on the back of your hand?
I will not say
that I am better
for you leaving.
I will not be
the common housewife.
I will walk, on steady porcelain shoes,
of which you bought for my own feet,
to the end of the drive way.
I will wait,
until you reach the end of my sight, and then I will kick off those shoes.
And I will run.
Away from you.
Away from life.
And to the back,
of our little house,
where we spent all of those tired years.
And then I will stop,
when my toes hit the hard cement,
leading up to the cold, still surface of our glaciered pool.
And I will take off the ring that you gave me
when we were only young.
I will jump
I will walk
into a cold blast of realization,
as my body hits the water.
And I will stay under that surface until I cannot breathe,
until I cannot focus,
until I cannot stay alive any longer.
Because that's what it takes,
to get you out of my mind;
for me to stop loving you.

Saturday, April 23, 2005

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts.
These foul dark creatures that plague me
and only can I be free in my dreams,
where corruption and calamity run amok.
And I feel ever free.
Do not harshen my with hardship,
do not let me die with love.
I am only one,
but in being one I can be strong
and foretake the mountains and valleys
if I must.
Leave me be,
for you are my plague.
You are my destruction.
You are the friend,
my foe,
that deems only to harken
the softest glimpse of something
that is not me.
So let me go
with sordid blessings
and forget that we had been to this place,
that only lovers see,
and only lovers touch.
To be loved is too much of a sorrow to bear.
It leaves a mark,
on your skin,
and forever you are bare.
It would be better to have never known of this
than to love and be denied.
So be not my fretful thoughts
and forget this plague!
For never once I thought of love
being once made
and twice deafened
under blow of enemy's mine.
Seek out what sears you,
before you burn,
acrid in touch and taste and smell.
You will forget,
as will I,
of a time
when blades made sparks
in our eyes.
It's so simple.

It always was.

The truth is...
Everyone lies.

Are they
lying to me?

Am I what I passionately want to be?
It's too hard.
It's too harsh.
It's a quick knife in my side.
And do I want you, too, to die?

They are lying.

But do they lie out of jealousy or spite or revenge?

Am I lying?

I cannot deny.

Would I be rejected?
And how would I even go about
being me?
With so many others
who reach the same way,
for the same light?
I am not just one.
In a great nation of tattered truths
and fairytales.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

The floor is a cold impression
against your cheek.
And as you breathe,
in and out,
I see the ghosts
inside your dreams.
Sleep long.
Sleep sweet.
It's the one thing
you can't regret.
Tell me in rambling lines
about just how much
you loved her.
I will sympathize.
I won't tell you,
that you mean everything to me,
that I was always lost,
in battlefields of regret and guilt.
Help me,
or leave me.
Or kiss me,
to make the memories press on
to my imagination.
Make me believe
that it was always better than this.
And when the morning comes
to wake me from fretful sleep,
leave me the impressions of your cheek
against mine,
and the ghosts
when you breathe.

Monday, April 18, 2005

An Excerpt

From a story I am working on...

Colors turned into shapes in my mind and suddenly I was flying high up in the air, except the air wasn’t air, it was marshmallow clouds suspended in blueberry gelatin. I was a spectator to the greatest flying circus in the world. I was watching plastic airplanes made out of puffs of smoke fly through my world. It was amazing and breathtaking. I swear I could’ve taken my heart right out of my stomach and squeezed the juice from it into a jar, and all I would label that jar would be ‘happiness.’ At that moment, that was what I was; happy. Later I would realize that my happiness had been fueled by systematic trips.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

*sings* Happy Birthday To Me....!!!! :)

Monday, April 11, 2005

By the way, I may be entering a poetry contest and I want you (my faithful readers..ha, although there are only, let me count...three of you?) to tell me which one (over the many years, although if you're lazy, feel free to not look back in the past (oh, the dreaded past) and just find one on this page, whatever) is your favourite! Pretty please? Thanks!

She lied

Okay, so really, everything went fairly smoothly.
For my brother's grad and 18th birthday present, my grandparents bought him a 1998 Jeep, with removable hard top so that it can transform into a beautiful green convertible Jeep. Ah, yes. Smashing, no? Well, everything comes with a price, right? So, now is the dilemna of my brother's insurance payments on the vehicle. What a mess that is. Since my brother has lazed around his whole (well..most of his) life, he has hardly any money to pay it, especially because it's something stupid like $398 a month, because he is a young driver. And, since he is going to college in Vancouver, he has to pay for his living and part of his school expenses. Sheesh. I'll take the bus, thank you very much. This car thing is just too much hassle at this age.
Oh, but I did well for my birthday. I got a rose gold ring embedded with pink saphires. It's gorgeous. But my mom keeps mentioning that the price was through the roof, so I keep thinking I'll never wear it because I'll be too scared. But I must wear it. I must. Or else it will go to waste like everything else. Que lastima!
Right, right. And I got a pretty antique looking lamp, and my grandmother is going to take me shopping for summer clothes. Yay. I just hope I don't do my embarressed thing. I seem to get very annoyed when I go shopping with people. I must have a birth defect, eh? Everyone else seems to like going shopping, even with their relatives.
You know what sucks ultimately? My parents feeling like they're going broke and everything just collapsing. It's awful, especially going to school and seeing all of the kids with cell phones and nice clothes and big cars and expenses purses.It just makes your whole self-esteem plummet. I don't ever want to be broke...unfortunately, I probably will be, and it will be sad, as I cannot find a suitable career path. I am feeling like trash, without any future goals. If anyone has any suggestions (even crazy space alien ones) please please feel free to shout them out at me.
Hmm..I think I am going to go make my jeans into cut-offs, or whatever those darn kids call 'em these days. That'll cheer me up. I'll finally have useful clothes. :) Ha, what a dork I am.

Saturday, April 09, 2005

I guess this time my blogging isn't some kind of way to express myself fluently. This post will just be my horrendously messed up description of how life can be incredibly cruel, although not cruel enough so that you feel guilty for thinking it so cruel.
It seems that my birthday may just be the black hole of my entire universe. Although with exceptions, it has been moderately well.
Allow me to ramble momentarily about all the bad things that have happened...
-my great-grandmother died two years ago in April
-my uncle died last two years ago in April..
-April is a month where all the teachers realize they have to pick up their shit and actually teach us something
-I always lose all my self-esteem and end up dumping my life on other now, for example
-the only actual semi-relationship I had was in April..
This year:
- the whole self-esteem and teacher thing again..
- I feel on the edge about it's all going to unravel
- My mother...And my grandparents..allow me to ramble some more on this:
My grandparents have worked tirelessly throughout their lives to accomplish a goal of making their children happy, although to accomplish this goal they must bitch to my mother, their daughter, about how difficult it is to make this money and how she does not have enough responsibility to handle it all. My mother gets very upset about this and tells me father in very loud tones. My father likes to remain calm and tell my mother everything will be okay, even if it is shitty. My mother continues to hate her father quietly. Now, the trouble with this coinciding with my birthday is that because it is my sweet sixteen, my grandparents want to do something special for me. This involves them telling my mother that she is not a responsible enough parent to deserve these 'wonderful' gifts. My mother complains to my father in loud tones. Now, if it would make my mother stop bitching, I would take away all the gifts I asked for. Every single one. I swear to whatever god I happen to believe in at the time..But I cannot tell my mother this.
So now, the day before I go to my grandparents house, I am swamped in guilt and I do not know what I will do...I honestly might just break down if my mother is caused any more pain by my birthday. So, you see, while most people would be happy that they are recieving such ridiculously expense gifts, I am wishing that it would all just go away so my family will stop being so fake.
I can't stay here any longer.
For if I do,
I fear that everything I thought once was,
will fall a thousand stories,
to a place inside my heart,
where I cry a thousand tears,
just waiting,
(Always waiting)
just for you to be there.
And I realize now
that there's no better place
than this,
and if I die,
...will you love me then?
For softer things have been said,
in lover's tangled web.
Maybe I'm just dreaming.
(Please, don't wake me up.)
I saw your reflection in a half-lit sky,
and I've always wonder why it is,
that you smile,
when I frown.
I miss the days.
(The endless days.)
I miss your smile.
And I wonder...
If I die,
...will you love me then?

Thursday, April 07, 2005

Are you happy that they worship you?
An objection of affection.
You rise
and everyone bows.
Stand to attention.
And listen
to me
as I speak
the truth.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

I gazed across the silver pond that skimmed your eyes,
I was captured by the darkest things that seemed to slither
into your sight.
And I realized...
just how much this love was plaguing you,
to see it through darkened eyes,
in a suffering world.
And I forgive you,
for holding your grace.
I wish that I could wipe away the clouds that have formed
as omens in your crystalline eyes.
I didn't understand how you could find twisted truths,
in what you saw.
But I never understood that what you saw was a see-saw of unfair judgement
called upon you by a higher power
meant to destroy.
And I love you
for finding another way
to be in love
with me.

Friday, April 01, 2005

Drink liquid stars.
In the sky.
In the night.
In the forever abysmal.
Of time.
The moon only stays in the sky.
Because it is lonely.
The sun is too bright.
So bright.
The clouds want to whisk it away.
And the blue wants to drown it out.
And the night...
The night is lonely.
With punctured stars.
And midnight black.
That slips like sand through broken hands.
And the moon...
A lighthouse beacon to lonely soldiers.
Of every age.