newbie poems
(poems i wrote when i was new to this whole writing poetry business)
(poems i wrote when i was new to this whole writing poetry business)
red and orange blossoming in the expanse of you
bits of fire torn into infinitesimal peices that make up your bloom
a behemoth presence interspersed with tenderness
but you sleep so peacefully
brindled you stare
and i look at you
the gates of dawn
open up to me my sun(sol)
Frustrating.
A mass of black roots turned into brown that lights up in the sunlight.
Prancing, posing;
Who says I am beauty?
‘a disgrace’ the comb whispers boldly, trekking through the maze of tightly wound curls.
Her face a grimace, how often are witnesses present?
Washing placates my anger,
The water a strength in my trying times;
cooling & calming, making me easier to soothe, smooth.
Then air comes and parades horrifically;
turning my innocence into a breakable, unbreakable jail cell.
Trapped for now,
I struggle & we cry for they doesn't know how to take care of me.
Chemicals knock on her door, forever salesman, damage in mind.
Long hours getting removed painfully from the scalp, my home, to be shaped into long twists, protection on the brain.
There's no hope for the lost & weak willed.
Oh, give me a break, I’m exhausted.
Lay me to rest for now,
till tomorrow, rinse and repeat.
the first drop is quick
then cold.
pinpricks of goosebumps form homes on your skin, hair their roof.
lungs, icicles. breaths, puffs of snow.
words turned into bits of the sea.
you cry out and all is heard is
waves.
deep in the blue. you become one
again again and again.
and when she came trailing through town, our eyes were enthralled.
she was large yet stout. she held power in her veins. a red cloak covered with untraceable patterns; a bright glow seemingly coming from no where
she held a woven basket on top of her stark white hair
it was full of oranges brimming, overflowing.
the fallen forming a cloak behind her, marching silently
joints turned into knobs resembling one of a marionette
twisted up and shoved into the glass box that cannot be broken
i am a speck
this environment restraining, people nauseating,
a victim to their scrutiny
a cliché dream.
the biggest freedom we call it.
bright lights; tall buildings; people; lots of people; different, some are you. huge space; breathing space difference--a huge difference. explore, grow bloom, burst full of color. filthy streets. a tiny space-- so tiny you hear your heartbeat along with the heartbeat of millions. smiles permanent. breeze, laughter never knew a person called sadness. love who you love, who you so desperately want to love. fast food, expensive food, no taste of home. paintings. you get lost in them. poetry you write & you share. the words are your only friend. expansion, a new beginning, a new end, a new way, high, low ;
all there in the city.
the sky is still the same as it was yesterday
(ridiculously blue and gloomy i wished for it to be purple)
the cacophony of young kids playing in the street before the sun even has the chance to say "hello" is loud today
(happiness before the years of dread and crisis dont we wish we were all children)
the infernal boredom rolling like waves returning over and over and over and over and over day by day
(theres just NOTHING to do)
time like whispers
(here then gone. april barely blinked.)
yesterday is todays day.
the image of you coalesced in my head with the one who we cannot see
i have apotheosized you
you who cannot be touched,
yearning leaving bloody, bloom trails in my wake.