Scarlet

The Interior of the Heart

Gave me quite a start

When you said you would part

The seas

In order to be close

To the things you love most

A piece of buttered toast

And me.

Missiles

Missiles

Missed me

On my way to school.

Or did I miss the missiles?

Missed kissing the missiles?

Mr. Missile's fist missed my kisser by miles

My, Ms. Kissister, my sisterly child

Crystal missiles crying for kisses

So sorry, Ms. Kissister, my sister, wild with child

Mr. Missile misses my panoramic smile

That goes on for miles and miles and miles

And I miss missiles kissing

On my way to school

Don't miss me too much

My Crystal Missiles

Purple Poem

Lilac in the early spring

Plum purple wool socks

Drifting to sleep

Grapes and blueberries and cough syrup

Sticky finger paint on blank walls.

Early October

The snow is falling in thick, fluffy pieces
Blanketing my boulevard in soft death
The chill in my fingers
And the chill in my toes tell me that
Sleep came early this year
And it mean mittens and layers
Blankets and slippers
Cocoa and kisses and runny noses.

Brown Poem

Freshly turned soil

Chocolate zucchini cake

Those eyes

Slipping sleeping

Snoring sighing

Climbing trees.

The Cycle

What if it's like this,

"Our summer's at an end

Just as the october frost pierces morning glory flesh,

We are approaching our autumn."

September

And so it began

Our maples started to turn

The end of her world.

Lady Velvet, Lady Darkness

I am stealing from the dream queen

I am robbing her of company

I am snatching cloaked hours

And there is no way to pay the fine

She will not except riches nor compliments nor pleas

It's only the early enchanted hours that she shall now take from me.

Today My Consequence Is

Butterflies in my stomach

Butterflies on my toes

Loss of appetite

And distraction with no end.

Welcome Home

There's something lame about being pretty

There's something tame about the wild city

There's mischief to be done when we turn out the lights

You can't halt the screams in the darkest of nights

But they can never be a forest fire, cloaking the sun red

They can never be unstoppable, the sun will rise yellow

And something about this city business suddenly seems so mellow

When I rise in the morning to brush my teeth.

Reunion

Sweat.

Sweet sweat and sunburns.

Icy spray on my back.

And legs,

and face

STOP SHOOTING ME WITH THAT WATER GUN.

No, don't stop,

:]

I'm not actually hungry for all that candy we bought.

Bubbles bubbles,

toil and trouble

Lets see who can scream that loudest.

Toss the frisbee,

Toss the salad

Toss the attitude,

Toss me into the air.

Toss your doubts out the window,

And I just need one of those hugs.

Those breath taking,

back breaking,

heart aching,

throw your whole self into it

hugs.

Interrupted

I don't know if it's funny
And I don't know if it's sad
I don't know if I like it
Or if I should be angry

But it's teaching me to blurt out the answers
And when to keep my mouth shut
And now I think I've unlearned the difference
Between the "hello" and the "good-bye"

And I'm thirsty. Not in a metaphorical way, but really thirsty for a cold glass of water, clinking ice cubes.

Science Final

Scritch, scratch, rustle

The hum of minds, a bustle

And he's wearing his blue gloves

And the clock it tick-tocking

Moving too slowly

If I could do it again, I wouldn't

Thank god for the turtles. 

11:42

Hush puppy

Hush puppy

Hush puppy

Hush

Just What We Needed

Rain, rain,

Stay one more day.

I think it would be fun to play

In dirty puddles,

Soak through my shoes

And chill me through my skin -

ACHOO!

Sweet June Afternoon

And it was ALL of that.

I blew out my speakers and couldn't help

Couldn't control

The dreams about my baby dog yawning

Such sweet expression

And I could never imagine anything more

But I did.

The distorted drum beat

Dribbling out of my bed room window

And she snarls

And I laugh

And I could scream

If I wanted to

And I want to.

The Process

Colors,

You make me see colors.

The vivids slice my vision

Drip down my cones and rods.

Colors and light,

Heat. 

I've never been so sick to my stomach.

 

White clouds build up

Block out the greens and blues

The reds and yellows

The white cuts off all other sensations

Every feeling except nausea

Heat.

And right before I fall flat on my face

The white disappears behind black

An inky sheet

A dripping heat

And I don't know if I'll ever come back. 

That Gracious Corner

Give it to me in black a white

And I could smother what might

overwhelm us, last night

I was looking for excuses

And I was looking for you

I swallowed the salt water, stinging

In hope for a twitter bird, singing

I was looking for the melody

And I was looking for you

Catching my breath as I rounded the corner

I was looking for a hiding place

And I was looking for you

So I mapped out the circuits

And hooked up the wires

And plugged in the variables too

And I was looking for answers. 

Inescapable

There's no way to turn this around

There's nothing anyone can do

No one but you 

Can turn on the electric machine

And no one else can suppress the sound

Of people you once knew

Sinking up into the blue

When you used to see in shades of green

Baby, you try to rush it

Let the tinkle breath of silence pass

Then you can coax the sizzle sparks out

Now you're searching for the volume control

They can't answer your questions

They won't feed your obsession

Thirsty for another jagged jolt

And I know your skin will prickle for that vicious voltage

There's no way to turn this around

There's nothing anyone can do

No one but you

Can turn on the electric machine

Baby, you try to rush it

Let the tinkle breath of silence pass

Then you can coax the sizzle sparks out.

Stacking in Circles

It's the feeling that you're doing something wrong

That they don't think you belong

The feeling that you're not what everyone hoped you'd be

Not what you hoped you'd be

It's the knowledge of

It's missing what he said to you because you've noticed, once again, how sweet his eyes are.

It's missing the math lesson because you spent the block writing a poem

And it's so damn beautiful.

You just can't give it up

Your insides are twisted in knots and you don't understand the questions they're asking on page 406 of your textbook

And it's scattered and broken

Even though it hurts and even when you're wrong

It's the only happiness

Curiosity

He doesn't start as a flicker in the darkness

Or a single, tender seedling, poking through the soil

He is (and always will be) a bonfire, raging

A mass of rough vines, choking

A salty tsunami, drowning and crushing

Burning. 

And he will always be unsatisfied

The only part that frightens me

Is the fact that I am not frightened

To be the cat is not the worst fate.

Gym Notes

And then we were spinning

And then we were running

And the colors were so bright

So vivid, so thick

And then we were screaming

And I was holding her hand

And I couldn't remember ever laughing so hard

And I was being pulled under

And I was crawling on my knees

And then there was popcorn

1, 2, 3, GO

And we were there

Beneath the rainbow dome

And I was grabbing ankles

And they shook me awake.

Hell Week

Early morning rising

Wake up you sleepy girl

Dragging myself out of bed

I drain a bowl of cereal

It's music in the morning

And a little running

Windy days outside

Lacrosse, oh the screaming

Then I'm stuck in Biology

Soft, wrinkled skin and snouts

Piglets in breathless sleep

Edging forward into lunch time

After dissections though, my appetite wanes

Regina Spektor and the Emcee tiptoeing around those numbers

The equations and solutions in math class

The only time this week that anything makes sense

A definite answer, a method

I love it

And then study hall

Blue filter of daylight

That room's almost empty

And then it's time for rehearsal

Or, not quite

A gathering in the black box

Stretches

Then a patch of free time 

Waiting for dinner

Everyone's too noisy

Time to stand in a long line

For food purchased in bulk

And then I'm finished

I slip into my costume

And hurry upstairs

What a soft couch

Another patch of time

I am waiting ... waiting

Then rehearsal begins

Flashes of skin and sparkles

Unwilling feet pinched into too tight shoes

Cheers, tears, kisses

Freeze

Quiet in the wings

Clap for the orchestra

Hang up your costumes

And then there's more waiting

In the hallway

It's 10pm 

We climb into the car

City lights whiz by

Faces stare down at me from billboards

Snow Plows Dump Bodies

And sometimes I'm funny

And sometimes I'm mean

And sometimes I struggle to sort

The thoughts I feel from the words I say

In any case, I stumble through the side door of that house

Chip away at that library book that's way overdue

Then I flick off the light and sleep.

Math Notes

y is always the same

but tell me this,

how did you know?

so we're just doing the same thing we've always been doing

considering the fact you did it the wrong way round...it looks like this

did you get b=.5?

where are the intercepts?

let me show you,

wait

it doesn't matter what it is.

Ear Splinter

The song bird, quivering, straining over the pounding piano, the thunder.

The roar of stray thoughts, dancing, jumping

Fray of my mind

Crackle of static

She slips through and I succumb.

Biology Notes

The impulses of our hearts

Electric

Valves snap shut

Lub-dub, lub-dub

Blood rushes out

The voltage

Controlling the pace

Steady and slow

Or slipping up, tripping up

My heart's in a handbag

Oh, the headaches

Override it

Specifically numb

And for this?

Exhaustion

Mind Bruise

This expansive nothingness

Dark 

It's like trying to coat the night sky in sparkling jewels

Reenacting the sunsplashed daytime

I collect the budding night lights

Before I am defenseless in the silence

I take the joke in math class

A few smiles passed around in the hallways

Even that tap on the shoulder

I tuck them into my pocket and in the darkness they grow

Their positive energy multiplied

But it's not enough to smooth over the dark spots

At the end of the day with soft, warm glittering

When I lay me down to sleep

And pray the Lord, my soul to keep

The black seeps through

Soaking into my dreams and staining my pillow case

Will it ever cease?

The Breakfast Nook

It's funny how we urge time to hasten on,

And then it does. 

By Choice

A puppet dances and a puppet says

Whatever you want her to

Until

She catches a glimpse 

In the mirror, herself

She cuts her strings for freedom

And falls to the floor

Slumping in angles she never did before

But at her own will

Until

She wants something else

So you tie her back up

Knotting the clipped strings together

And she is glad

For something more than the independent stationary

To be kind to herself

She forgets what she saw in the mirror

Unblinking eyes, clacking knees and elbows

Strings guided by a hand, far away

A shadow, an illusion

It was nothing but a night haunt

Silly to think of it as anything else.

Lack of Cleaning Supplies

Such a mess

Raw egg yolks dripping off the counter

Flour dusted on clean dishes

I dropped the wine glass

and swept the shards underneath the chair

Mud tracked in from both doors

Sticky kool-aid trapping cat hair on the table

The roof is leaking and the windows are drafty

And I'll keep the curtains open

A conversation piece

Shocking revelation

Neighbors passing will ask me

And I'll become better at telling the story each time

But today I think I'll draw the shades

Dim the lights

Maybe I'll run the bath water until it overflows

Maybe I'll chip the paint off of all the doors

Or maybe I will clear the basement

And clean all the floors

It's too bad I don't have a mop

Today I Feel...

crazyawesomeinyofaceamazingfantabulouscolorsspinningstopandcirclejumpupanddownandscremuntilthemooncomesupandthesunexplodes.

The Waiting

The almost numb sting of my mind

In hours passed, attempting to see

How I can survive when we shall part

With endless movement I've tried to blind

Myself from the approaching guarantee

One will become two on any new sunrise

What will I do without her?

It's now I know I've already inched away

In my childish ways, I've sunk into myself

Always, she is but 10 feet from me

It's as if she's already left for the north slope

So with this, my revelation

Can it be called so?

I've known for months, and when it came in reproach

I sent the bastard away

But now I can admit, in doing that, I've rejected myself.

To Sleep

My world slides out of focus

I drift on night-haunts and fantasies

Slipping into the unspoken wanderlust

Before my heart caves in on itself

I drift on night-haunts and fantasies

Playing back the day's scratched, torn film reel

Before my heart caves in on itself

I flick on my lamp and tumble from bed

Playing back the day's scratched, torn film reel

I question why

I flick on my lamp and tumble from bed 

When Doubt caresses me, like many things crawling

I question why

My eyes are strained emptiness

When Doubt caresses me like many things crawling

And I give in to his advances

My eyes are strained emptiness

I push away all feeling

And I give into his advances

Drenching my neon in nothingness

I push away all feeling

My world slides out of focus

Drenching my neon in nothingness

Slipping into the unspoken wanderlust

Pause

Here I am

I can not promise anything.

Distractions

I can hear them

Right outside my window

Pumping the gas

Spinning their wheels

Digging themselves deeper into the snow

Rhythmic ignorance

The engine roars, "Cease!"

The Comforts of Home

There was supposed to be a snow storm

And for sure babe, it's snowing

A thin dusting from heaven's floorboards

Turns to crunching feathers under my tumble

Dear Universe,

Today

Another day checked off

On the calendar of my residence

In this body

One day less

One breath closer

To my inevitable departure

Is life a soft lit candle, huffed out too soon

And never revived?

Just incase it isn't, I've composed a few requests.

Assuming I was not horribly wrong about the Bible and get sent strait to hell with all the other spit fire, wild child sinners

I'd like to be reincarnated as a flower

A poppy, perhaps

Wild colors seem to suit me

Delicate, wrinkled, red and orange

Or maybe I could be a tree

A mighty tower

Cracking bark

Flittering foliage

I'd never want to be a Planaria

High school biology is not for me

But I could be a mud puddle in the early spring

Or even a hefty, beast of Alaska

A moose among moose, lumbering in the tundra

Nibbling on greens all day

But, perhaps, I think I might like to be

An abandoned ship in the Bermuda triangle

Stormy seas would toss me

On calm water I would float

And maybe someday I'd slip underneath the blanket of water

And see the extraordinary on the journey downwards. 

Older Stuff

I finally brought home my english notebook from first semester and I found a few things in it that are worth sharing. Here they are, in chronological order.

[author's note, mopey moods don't always make for great poetry]

Are you ever lonely, just like I am, all the time?

Is your mind bursting with questions, just like mine?

Do I make you feel alive, just like you make me feel?

Do you long for hours spent wandering aimlessly on sidewalks, like I do?

I wrote the one below in study hall one time, I was sitting close to Dylan and I wanted to meet him, so I thought about the creepiest way possible. I wrote this poem and then I emailed it to him :]

Freckles. Splatters across him arms and face, neck and hands

Angel kisses? 

If so, he must have been popular with those winged watchers long before conception.

Fingers hesitantly dragging across his keyboard, diligently studying.

Eyeglasses clinging softly to pale skin behind his ears

Chocolate brown hair curls up from the nape of his neck, 

Brushing against a solar system of freckles.

Sitting in a chair, too blue

In and classroom, too quiet

In and world, too constraining

I bet he wants to scream.

This next thing is just an excerpt of an attempt of escaping my complete boredom during study hall. 

The air we breath, the air we breath. Poisoned or enhanced? Curses and pollution? Jesus, why do you always need a prompt when you're not depressed or something? Well, might as well keep writing, you know, it makes you look like you are doing something. Conferences, eh?

Nom, 

And this last one is from the night I had my first pomegranate.

Slicing nicely, juices drip

Staining the counter, the cloth

Trails creeping through pomegranate flesh

Delicate jewels of puckering flavor

I dig with fingertips, patiently extracting

The fruit.

It falls into the bowl,

Children to their bed, resigning after a day of mischief. 

Stifled

It doesn't have to be:

streaking meteors

blaring radios

gushing floods

blinding neon colors

thundering storms

spritzing musky perfume

machine gun rattle. 

It can be:

embers glowing

ice cracking

dew dropping

the pastel sun rising

a spring breeze flowing

the smell of fresh cut grass, floating 

soft suffocation. 

Aspirations

You're with me always

Though, I not with you

And sometimes that knowledge is comforting

And sometimes it stings

And sometimes I think that someday I could be the feathers in a pillow or the clacking in a tap dancer's shoe.  

Void

of any reason, but here I am avoiding homework ... so this is what I found

10:54

Knots, scribbles, labyrinth

Through the confusion, a single red string runs through my chaos

Joy

It may be in my DNA

Calculated out as social survival skills

An explanation for what makes my heart skip like a scratched disk and grow warm as soft knits in the dryer. 

What Falls Between

This poem is by my dear friend Chloe. I read it on her blog and it struck me [as her poems often do] and asked her if I could share it on my blog, so here it is :]

In moments it is gone

my racing heart swept up

and disposed of, 

politely 

in the corner

Letting life continue it's unending 

Monotony

I think I brushed with fate

I think I was close

So close, 

But when I open my eyes

All those dreams fall away

and once again I realize

That I have missed my chance

My Trip To The Doctor

Starburst

The only thing I must look away from

A clenched fist

A pinch of the skin

I feel energy being sucked from me

Hot

Cotton pressed tight

Secured with a brightly colored sticky strip

And now I can turn my head to see

My purple blood 

Sloshing in a small vial

Specific Horrific

Lacking in perfection

I admire them as they were

Barren fingers outstretched 

Sunlight is cheap

Moist, grey skies awaken 

BLAH

I feel so completely useless

Sleep leads to sleepiness

I've snatched the hours time has given me

And spun them into a tangled mess of nothing

I'm even too lazy to give this poem structure

Free verse is my friend

The friend who drinks all my parent's alcohol

The friend who needs their hair pulled back while they get sick

And I hold their hair back

Because it's good to be needed

Cold fingers

Bloodshot eyes, glazed over like high calorie carbo treats

It's just been one of those days

Though, at 9:05pm I can feel the sun beginning to rise again

I'm feeling better already.

Curtains

Private is private

The end, swept in by red velvet

Coy, delicate lace

Functional blinders from bed-sheets

And so I pull them back to reveal the day

Or rather, my face to the streets

From the desk of the poet who needs to shower and write her english paper,

Poetry is not love

And love, not poetry

Be not won by words that flow

Like nectar to hummingbird

Many poets lie to lie

So be not won by words

Be not won by glances

Those, you cannot prove

Be not won by song

Though it may cling like honey to the ear

Be not won by good intensions

Those are but brightly colored chalk on sidewalk

Washed away by mists of moisture

Be won instead by the contents of your own heart

False heart cannot prove false to itself

Therefore, your heart will remain true to your own questioning

And, by chance yours align with another

Do what you will

Proclaim, hasten breath

Or whatever your false heart's desire

For hearts are not false in moment passing

Only in comet streaks and lightening strikes whereon 'forever' is spoke.

Wash Your Hands Obsessively, Excessively.

"It's a sort of, mild case

I've been through this before."

Is what I told my doctor

As I lay there on the floor

"All the times, previous,

It came in with a bang

Stomach tied all up in knots

An awful, sickly pang.

The first time round, I drowned it

Starvation for the last,

It's been a struggle, sometimes war

For cases in the past

But doctor, dear, this one I've got

Grew slowly in my gut

I know not whence it came from

Nor which door I must shut

This sickness, gentle, fleeting

Chokes my speech and guides my eyes

Are there no vaccines?

No way to sanitize?

My doctor just peered down his nose

And slowly shook his head

He sighed and scowled and glowered

And this to me, he said

"You've done this to yourself

I'm certain that you know

This illness is preventible

You're the one who let it grow."

Without Gravity

The raging sparkle of that stream

I'd pluck it as it flows

But I've been to shore to harvest jewels 

And my dear, it isn't so

See the wild, purple petals?

I'd gather them as they grow

I've stooped low to breath their scent

And my dear, it isn't so

The setting sun spits orange and red

My dear, it isn't so

A butterfly, delicate, flowing sighs

My dear, it isn't so

The promise of tomorrow 

My dear, it isn't so

But in this moment, we can be

The river's glitter glow

Sssssskiing

Silent Satan's secrets seem so simple, seem so sweet

Severed, screaming sickles slicing slowly

So she'll slip, silky sour

Standing still, siting strait 

Sickly sipping soda

This is what History class is good for,

And so I was sitting in class staring at the ceiling, trying to count the pockmarks in the tiles. They reminded me of stars and they reminded me of pebbles in a fish tank, but most of all, they reminded me of the missteps I've ... stepped into. Infinite in yesterdays, passing moments and in the intangible calendar; stretching forth until and beyond my closing scene. It also made me think; just as the spots on the ceiling maybe my mistakes were intentional. Each mark isn't planned specifically, but the general idea is that there will be punctures, and there will be many. With this in mind, fearing my missteps seems a silly thing to do. It's time to charge into my blunders with a flying leap [much like a mud puddle] and leave written evidence of the experience. 

As The Moon

As sure as sunrise, I feel a warm blush in my face

Offhand jokes provoke my laughter, rainwater shaken from a birch tree

Like a soft, plum sweater snagged on a prickly rosebush (they know not their effect)

My eyes catch on his face (they know not their effect)

Foamy seawater rolls over and envelops grainy beaches, consistent and in rhythm 

Just as my thoughts turn to him

Like socked tiptoes on carpet, I probe his mind for clues

But I feel more like river dance, loud and obnoxiously obvious

It's adventuring with a faulty compass

I am the needle, spinning

I'm on a hyper-active merry-go-round

Round and round

Turn turn turn

I know not what's my ankle nor nose

Yet, this feeling, though well known to me

Peaks from the soil like a timid seedling

Soft greens, waiting.

Stale Fortunes

Wilted rose

Torn up lace

Empty yogurt cup

There is the water

There is the money

There is the soil

Two pale lilies

Soft, black silk

Earthy wombs

Ladies, 

Clip your budding flowers

Buy your dresses shorter

Sow seeds in abundance

Sunlight will do the rest.

Intermission

Chatter of bullets, the smear of the smoke

Dirt moist with blood and damp sickness of heart

The air rang with passion, now silence doth choke

All savage aggressions, fallen apart

Peace, a thin cloth stretched tightly over swollen greed

Rips stitch by stitch, splitting at the seams

Endless bodies growl, melded and bound by raw need

Longing quenched with pride's flowing streams

Will turn salty on the tongue

But pushing boarders, like a smooth faced child

Is an ancient song, backwards and forwards sung

It's the waning moon and the bodies piled

To black out stars, man's power is none

So get out of Versailles and go grab your gun

ERROR 404, Integrity Not Found

The breeze dictates the path of a lofty, withered leaf

Proud in his season, he blossoms towards the sun

Arms spread wide, richly, rightly green

Rough rains rip at him on occasion

He grasps more desperate to his foundation

To feel the soft, warming light he knows he must trudge through the thick chill

Yet, when the keeper of icicles creeps in, leaves release their grip on sunlight

Willing, eager

He falls

Artistic and beautiful, as if practiced

The breeze caresses him down

Soft as silent Satan's secrets

He rests now on thousands of his brothers

And as the cycle goes, he is trodden into the soil

Veins and flesh break apart, fragile as they are

The Earth lays claim to the rotten

And so the cycle repeats, sure as a babe cries for comfort and milk

Knots

I've been telling myself words I want to hear to justify

Things that I want to do

Is it true, is it true

What I feel for you?