Sweltering

The old man looked at me
And talked about the timeless adage
About having fire in your eyes, and he said
"You kid, your eyes are just burning."
And then I woke up
And my irises were sweltering
But I shook my head
"No," I said,
"You’re wrong. I don’t have bad dreams
And I don’t talk in my sleep
That is for people
Who give all their secrets away
Willingly."

He told me I was wrong
That he was there the night she came in
Stumbling up the stairs
Talking about lovers who never loved her
And he heard my cries from the sleeping world
Because while not awake, I knew

He was there the night
I tossed and turned from missing you
And I reached out grasping
And I could not find your hand
So I picked up a pen
And I wrote quickly
All the things
We never
Got
To
Say

And I said, "No,
That is for people that give all their secrets away."
"There is fire in your eyes."
Yes;
I am burning
Cold skin,
Warm heart
"I know," I said.
I know.

Poetic Snippets

***

You asked if college was beating the creativity out of me
"Is that the reason you don't write poetry anymore?"
No, mama,
I still like the sun on my skin
I still get romantic ideas about strangers,
The kind with coffee in hand and wearing interesting clothing
I am still forgiving towards the universe.
I still miss home.
And I still miss you

***

I am not made for books and studying.
I like hiding under covers with Nicole and talking about Galileo, never knowing what he actually did.

***

Happiness is not a mat that sits on my doorway.
It's home.
It's moving.
It's comfort in silence.
And laughter in noise.

***

I like that you smile
When you cry.
I like that in every single cell that is inside my body, and every cavern through which my blood flows you are there.
And I can feel you;
Science never could explain that

Rant Poem 3

I wrote this when I was at school and feeling lonely and homesick. As with all of my other "rants" no attention is paid to rhyme or meter.

***

I Miss

I miss people who get me.
Who understand that I cry all the time and that an hour later I am silly, and passionate, and ready to laugh until I choke.
I miss people who overlook the dirt on my feet when I have been walking barefoot and sweaty for most of the day, and who it might even remind of good times.
I miss people who do not care about appearances
And who are not competitive over grades
Or futures
And just want now
I miss people who treat me the same when I have put makeup on and straightened my hair
Or just rolled out of bed greasy and tired.
And perhaps do not notice the difference
I miss people who deserve me at my best because they have loved me at my worst.
That understand that try as I may, I wear my emotions on my sleeve
Who know that if I’m sad, I’m sad
If I’m angry, I’m angry
If I’m frustrated, I’m frustrated
But know that if I love them, I love them.

I want someone to want me even though when I get talking about politics I get out of hand and rant for half an hours at a time
And simply nod and say
“Yeah, baby, I know, I know what you mean.” And I’d like it if they really did sometimes.
I miss phone calls because summer songs are on the radio
And late night conversations
And late night walks
I am trying
I try
And I try
But I am no good at
Being alone

Not Just Above the Fold -- Top of the Page

I finally got a full size article that begins on the front page of the Press-Republican. Yes, my editor did have to edit the beginning because I haven't written that many hard news stories before, but most of it was left untouched.

I'm proud of it and I hope that someday I can get a front page article on a larger paper -- New York Times, maybe? Washinton Post?

We'll see...

But anyway, here's the link:

http://www.pressrepublican.com/archivesearch/local_story_198220917.html

At Least When I...

At least when I feel, I feel unequivocally,
Can’t nobody hurt like I can

At least when I cry
I cry unabashedly
And I look at you brazen eyed
Daring judgment on a life you’ve never known
Daring words of comfort that might fall short
But would be brave enough to make me believe in you

At least when I laugh
I laugh loudly
Echoing
Letting the waves roll from my diaphragm
And sing the sound of my joy
Daring you to call my humor uncouth
And judge intentions that aren’t yours
Daring you to overlook politically incorrect words in a way that
Might wound your character
But would be kind enough to make me want you

At least when I explain an anecdote halfheartedly
I have hope
That you will ask a question you have no right to
That borders on the edge of the personal
Where I could meet and deny you
But would be brash enough
To intrigue me

All That's in a Cigarette

I actually haven’t heard this song, but as far as lyrics go, I really, really like them. It’s called “Fa la la” (there might be a few more La’s there) by the Kooks:

I don't care and if I have to
I'll read your books
Cause they'll remind me of you
And I'll learn your notes
So that I have a clue
And I'll watch your films
So I'll know them through and through
And I'll do the things that remind me of you
And I'll wash my hair in your shampoo
And I'll buy your perfume
And spray it round my room
And I'll smoke your cigarettes
So that I'm dying too
And I'll call you up

Am I sane?

My absolute favorite part is the bit about the cigarettes, hence, of course, the italics. Because it reminds me of how I’ve felt about people for a long time. How I’ve felt about almost everyone I’ve loved intensely in my life. First, the Mundy’s (my twin childhood best friends from grade school) picked up the nasty habit, and now almost all my old friends smoke. My mother has smoked since the day I was born, and before, even for a few months while she was pregnant. My sister has just started too. And I’ve just slowly watched them all make all these grandiose mistakes, and do all the things that are bad for them, that will land them in a bad place years down the road, or next month, or maybe even tomorrow.

Smoking is symbolic. Symbolic of the stuff I wish I could save other people from, and myself from in the process, but instead, I just end up watching, and wasting away along with everything else around me.

The loving part comes in -- the notes, and films, and shampoo, and perfume, -- it comes from the good stuff. The songs I can sing with people to, the movies we can watch, and laugh, or cry at, and the scents we bombard ourselves with in the morning, if we so choose. But, no matter what, in the end, the relationship is self-destructive.

It’s taken me a long time in my life to love people who I know are productive for themselves most of the time (because no one can be 100 percent always), who work hard, are going to school, want to make a life for themselves. I’ve managed to make a few great friends that I think fit this description, and I consider myself more than a little bit fortunate for that. I don’t crave dysfunction anymore, or at least not completely, and that is a step.

I’m still looking, though. Still looking for it in the romantic sense. Who’s going to want to stay and make a life with me? I find myself perpetually afraid that because of all my baggage, I am too tainted to find love that is pure. That no one would want to touch the hard stuff I come with. That no one will ever want to be that personal.

I could just keep it all to myself, but does that not defeat the point of knowing someone? Knowing all of them. How they got here, what they’re scared of. Isn’t wanting someone about wanting the dark recesses of their soul along with the light. I want someone who isn’t afraid of me, who I can’t make uncomfortable even when I try. Who can take the dark stuff and light it up, make me laugh, even when I’m trying not to.

But also, to create something new with. Something that isn’t tainted and memories that do not hurt. Pure light that doesn’t have to be enhanced, but just is. Will anyone want to both know my past and make a brighter future? I hope so.

Nicole's Poem

Nicole wrote this. I'm keeping it for her because she usually throws her stuff away and wants it later, so I figure this way the poem is safeguarded.


I wish you knew how such a beautiful person you are, quirky and sometimes magical
I wondered if you know you have a special way with people,
And that sometimes when you look at me I get goosebumps and butterflies
You’re paralyze me with your moist brown eyes,
the ones that may not be particularly pretty but deep and emotional.
You’re someone I needed, you’re someone I wanted,
How beautiful you are to me, I must love you.
You’re the fabric that keeps me together, when I feel myself falling apart.

I want you to know how extremely funny you are,
The way you can get the most difficult crowd to loosen up
You’re brave and sentimental, and courageous and nice.
And you’re someone I needed, you’re someone I wanted,
How beautiful you are to me, I must love you.
You’re the fabric that keeps me together.
I wondered if you know how you collected my soul, and lift my spirits,
You’re nerving and never pompous,
And that sometimes when you look at me my legs go into jelly and my face is red as a rose
I wish you knew how wonderful your existence is,
How you are a cluster of hope and faith for me,
And you’re someone I needed, you’re someone I wanted
How beautiful you are to me, I must love you.
You’re the fabric that keeps me together.

You have wrapped your arms around me with the most broadened smile I have ever seen.
You have loved me from the very core of my existence.
My flaws shine through my exterior, but you see through my flesh and my inner me.
You are a sunset and a twilight,
The silver moon in a shimmering burst of stars in the sky,
You’re the jelly colored sun in a sunrise,
The magic in the air when two lovers meet,
The miracle in my shadowy being.
You’re everything sincere to me,
You’re someone I need, you’re someone I want,
How beautiful you are to me,
You’re the fabric that keeps me together,
even when i feel myself fall apart.
--