Likenesses that are Not Liked

I remember you, in those first days.
I could see the need in those days.
I could smell it, taste it.
It nourished me.

I have starved for you.
I would starve for you forevermore.
You are no longer in need.
You are strong, mindful, and moral.
I'm so proud.

She has your hair.
She has your eyes.
She has your heart.
She has your mind.

She has your old problems, only worse.

I am so hungry.

She has not your strength.
She still has your problem, only worse.

Both mothers, broken like glass, cut their children deeply as they grew in the cage of sharp edges.
I know you once cut, it gave you control.
I have not looked to see if she has the scars.
Her words bear her injury, or more their absence.

I could fix her.
I feel it.
I want it.

I am so hungry of purpose.
I thought my meals few and far between and out of fidelity closed my eyes.
But I have glipsed.
My old purpose gleams like a flower frosted with dew.
Am I pig enough to eat it?
To leave my now purpose and return to my older, and truer.

It is wrong of me to harbour such thoughts. I am commited, promised even.
That ring is still wrapped about your finger,
but am I still rapt with you?
It is wrong of me not to help her if I can.

I love you. No buts.
... but I have fixed you.
Who will fix her?
Were there more of me she would be fixed already.
Another would have saved me this rending inner conflict.
But rended I am not! I am calm! Complacent!
I have accepted my failure already!

I can't help without hurting.
I would never do anything to hurt you,
I've said that more than once and I meant it.
I mean it.
I mean it still.

Is it moral of me to stay?
Is it moral of me to leave?
Would she have me if she knew why I left?
Will you have me if this is why I've stayed?

Of course you will. That is how I've trained you.
I've trained you to be like me.
I would have you no matter how many mistakes you had or would make.
I love you.
But should I?

So much distance between us, with problems of yours I cannot fix.
So little distance to a problem I have experience in fixing.
Just a few steps down the hall.
Just a few steps 'till she's better off.
'till I'm morally fed.

Self actualization is actually a self destructive desire.
Though if I stay I am building toward nothing.

Am I happy?
Are you happy?
Is she happy?

Am I broken because I want to fix her?
Will you be broken if I leave?
Am I broken only while you're fixed?
Am I fixed only while someone is broken?

I don't want to break up.
But I want to fix her up.

I want to just be friends with her, but I'm scared I can't make light conversation with a moral feast while I lay starving.

How do I fix this?

What should I aim for?

"Shoot for the moon, even if you miss you'll land among the stars"

The moon, thats a PhD thats what I want, I can't get there without first attaining the low earth orbit of an undergraduate degree.
I have the marks back from my math midterms.
65. 71.
I've seen examples of the physics problems, which I now know I didn't do correctly.
Less than a 65 at the end and they kick me out.

I can feel my hair singing off in the heat of re-entry.

I wonder if anyone will wish on me.

I wonder if anyone will find the chared remains. Will I even make it back to the ground?

If I am found maybe they'll take a few peices for research.
Maybe I'll still get to contribute to science.

Mid-term Midterms in Mild Terms

Midterms
A term which I nearly choke in the middle of.
Though I've only been through one;
I've lots of time to choke in the middle.
"A wake up call"
What a nightmare!
"Sixteen questions of hell"
3B) The number of this question is present in what domain? a)Hell b)Your soul c)This test d)All of the above

A temporary reprieve from the onslaught of assignments in which time is best spent locked in a silent, brightly lit room, eyes taped open, bloodstream 90% filled with caffeine and pages and pages, notes, textbooks, and webscreens passing by at such an agonizingly slow rate that the breeze doesn`t irritate ones eyes but the bright white glare and glow threatens to render one blind.

I didn`t get the chance to study for my chemistry midterm.



I think I aced it.

I'm miserable.
My short story is horrible.
My character isnt the character I planned out,
nor is he interesting,
I tried to make him sound like a stoner/uncaring teenager
he sounds like a hick from south Alabama
And he sounds like that in my head too, not just on the page.
My phone keeps auto-correcting all of my messages into nonsense
My step-sister is being a two faced bitch
I never know how to act around her
I hold great respect for her most of the time,
 and yes we do disagree on things
but we discuss them in an intellectual way
but then, out of nowhere, she busts out these comments
that make me feel like if I'd jumped off a bridge three days ago
She wouldn't have noticed yet,
and she wouldn't care when someone voiced the news
Like if I were gone it would simply mean one less idiot on the earth
Maybe she and Mr. Shea are right, I'm easily replaced
My short story is completely plot driven
I used big, horrific events to hide the fact that I can't write worth a damn
I use shock value to garner compliments
My moral tenor and conscience are begging me to try to fix Adam
But I don't have the time, and even though I know,
Come next year, when its too late, you'll hate yourself
But I already hate myself now so what the hell,
Helping others is more important than helping myself
But what if I can help more others by helping myself first?
Ghandi had it easy, he only needed to sit back and not co-operate
and he freed a nation
I want a degree in physics so I can find one
just one
New idea
A discovery.
Even a small one.
To be mentioned once in one history book, once in history, for one discovery.
Just one.
To do so I have to work for an evil company.
Work myself to the bone,
though I'm not really doing that,
I don't have time to sleep yet I do,
I don't have time to eat lunch, but I do
I don't have time to play portal 2 but I do
I don't have time to play D&D but I do
I don't have the time to go to prom but I will
I didn't have time to take Kerrie out for Ice cream but I did
I didn't have the time to fall asleep while doing homework today
I don't have time to go and write about my problems on blogger,
but guess what.
I have stretch marks on my stomach.
I let myself go and became fat fast.
I'm sensitive about my weight.
I'm not fit, I'm not healthy.
I don't have the willpower to control what I put into my face.
I walked out to get a snack or a glass of juice tonight
and ashley takes the time out of her busy schedual to say
"don't have any Ice cream."
I thought that meant are parents were planning to use it for something
like a family desert so I asked
"why?"
"Well you're the one who didn't eat dinner last night."
Well thank you Ashley for making me feel that:
One: if I come into the kitchen it probably means I'm going to eat.
Two:That I'm an idiot for packing four slices of pepper for my dinner at work last night.
I couldn't even hold to those four peices of pepper anyway,
I had enough money to buy a Mars bar so I did
But thank you for making me feel like a fat, stupid, piece of shit
Why am I even writing this!
Do I want gossip about myself!
Do I want sympathy!
Do I want special treatment!
Do I want pity!
What do I want?
Where does hard work end and happiness begin
Ive been working hard since I was labled the boy with cooties in grade 3
I've always been working toward my better future.
When do I get this better future.
I've been working so hard, for so long,
I care, I'm nice, I'm respectful, I'm polite
I'm an existentialist who believes everyone is good at heart for God's sake
I'm replaceable
If I did go jump off a bridge tomorrow I would be forgotten by most in a few months
by all in two generations
When do I get my better future?
I have at least four more years of hard work ahead of me
But I know there will be more after that,
and more after those.
Will I ever be able to walk up to God, or the History books, or myself and say
"I'm all finished." in stead of
"I'm a work in progress"
Will it ever stop?
Or will I ever be under the heel of my own boot
just trying to crawl out and see the daylight I know must be beyond the sole
is the light beyond my soul?
Will every step I take just lead me to walk all over myself again
Is my movement to a better future a stroll on a mobious strip.
I look forward to the future and see there is a flip side to things, a better place out there
but its an illusion
I see the other side but its not there.
There is only one side and I'm on it.
Always trying to get to a better future or an easier past
and always ending up where I started
With neither.
I need to go to sleep.
I have to put on the mask again tomorrow morning.
Brighten everyones day.
Its prom after all.
I have to go and work hard.
I can't stop.
If I do I'll fail.
But I can never succeed.
I suppose if I can't live
I might as well keep myself from dying.
Night.

Pleas don't comment that it was great and honest writting.
I don't care if you all know my secrets, I have none.
I'll lay myself bare before the eyes of the world.
Whether its to get ahead or to get clean I don't know.
Don't give me the ego trip that my life actually matters.
Until that original thought, that one discovery.
All I am is replaceable hard work.
Night...

Come Back. Please. I Can Bandage You.

So close
So close.
So close..
So close...

Closer than any before.
I listen to those you did.
You still say to me through them,
"Something for the pain, just to kill this feeling
Although we looked awake, inside we're all still sleeping
And I spent my time here alive, but barely there
Do you believe we'll ever make it?"
Yet now not a word to me will you speak.
I here you ever calling,
"wake me when it's through,
I don't want to feel the things that you do"
And my attempts are all met with the sounding of your silent yell,
"Don't show me anything!"

I miss you.
You were so close.
I was so fucking close... so close...
Yet if I recall I was only through gate 3 of 9.

I love you.
I hated you, but I couldn't stay that way.
You are familly.
I'd bet your the tails to my heads.
I can't see a way back to you,
Its like I'm looking out in the opposite direction.

I have no friends.
No-one ever holds me,
I keep everyone at a distance.
I forget everyone, I can't see their faces.
I still see your smile, even over the glare you cast over me.
I wish I could meet your eyes now.
You wont let me.
I can't forget you.

I love you Adam McKay.
Your the only friend I've ever kept,
Yet the only friend I've ever lost,
Come back. Please. I can bandage you.

I hope someone leads you here.
To these words or to this feeling.
Your my one regret.
If today is the Rapture,
I know I'm not going to Heaven,
Because I will leave this world on the day of my death with you as my only regret.
Let my unrepentant sins and their cost pay penance for my failure to help you.

You saved my life,
Why wont you let me save yours?

Manifesto

Poetry is written humanity.
Good poetry must relate to the human condition.
Instructions on how to build a chair from Ikea are not poetry.
They do not make one experience humanity.
Good poetry must do

I can't find the word. I've tried to type that sentance so many times.
I can't get it all done. None of it is any good. I've been trying to write interesting or beautiful things on no energy during the time I should be asleep. I can't get it all done. I'm writing this at 11:22pm when I need 8 hours of sleep to properly fuction and I work at 7am tomorrow, then afterwork is the mother's day barbeque, I would feel like an asshole if I missed it. I can't even cry. My determination wont let me. All I am is a roiling mass of rage, misery, and determination. I don't have time for it all. I only have four things in my life: work, school, Kerrie, and dungeons and dragons. I can't drop any of them, I need the money, I need the future, I need the love, I need the escape. I can't maintain elloquency in exhuastion.

Good poetry must do one of these two or both of these two following things.
1. Make one think in an existential way. Search for meaning and value in a sea of seeming chaos.
This is one of the most essential parts of the human experience, it is directly related to our search in life for meaning.
2. Make one feel. Emotion is essential to the human experience, we have many various shades of emotion and it is our emotions which connect us all and our emotions which make us most human.

Phenomenal poetry or writing in general leaves a lasting impact on these two human functions within a human being. Phenomenal poetry either changes the way we imbue things with meaning in our lives, the way we see the world, or it changes the way we feel about the world around us, its varoius facets and situations. 

I'm so tired, time to write the prompts I haven't had the chance to write yet. Atrium-something about brining together, i cant remember the other prompts to say what I plan to say about them.

Oh, poetry is also about self expression, relating yourself to the rest of the world, sharing whgat you think and feel with outhers so they can understand what can happen to people, what can be believed. So poetry shopuld also include a lagre bit of your persomnalo self, mistakes and all. Or maybeo I'm just too tired and lazy toi correct my mistackres now. Enjoy my work, and more importantly youre own. Maybe than one of us will.

Alien Eyes

Human eyes
humanize me.
Humans will make me.
Humiliate me.
How laughter, it will
Howl after the kill

Alien eyes
alienize me.
An alien nation
alienates me.
An' I'll hate them all.
Annihilate them all...

In your eyes he
imunized me.
The shot that imitates
the shot that hit my face.
Emotions gone.
He motions "gun!"

If I hurt today,
I fired away.
He died, Will Stanford.
Heed I will stand for.
I put the barrel in my mouth.

And pulled the trigger.

Physical Warfare

Wrong Again!
Under-slept
Under-prepared

War

Numbers, letters

and lines.

I look over the field.

What does it mean?

How can I work it to

my advantage.

Confusion,

complexity.

long steps and

longer formulas.

Solar powered tools.

The crack of lead.

Hidden detail.

Silent realization

many lines are erased

beings of meaning...

drenched to illegibility

in their own lifeblood.

New approach.

Previous experience.

Irregular units.

Two days till judgement.

Ideas of old.

Words of those

long dead.

Old enemy.

New edges.

Forgotten tactics.

New formulas.

Free body diagrams

reshape the field.

Variables,

acceleration, points

notation.

Pythagorean arrow heads.

Distractions.

Closed doors.

Crooked beings.

Sin law.

Greek.

Conversions.

Decoder and traitor.

Broad topics.

So many fronts.

Determination.

Tools in Love

My dear I must now inform you that you

Are far too much akin to a nail-gun

If I place you under a pressure new

You jab at me in little ways. Like sun

burnt skin on a hot day you sting and pinch

and yet to this one spot you hold me fast;

So that I could not even move an inch.

Your fire and passion has, since days long past,

always kept me from leaving this hard life

but I know that nail-guns do jam, run-out

and so I can’t make you into my wife.

And until then we’ll fight another bout.

So now I’m in emerg. from you, you bitch.

But still you know I’ll savour ev’ry stitch. 

I'll Never Know my Loss

It seems to me in tired mid-age
it matters not what I have seen.
Through years and years, and days and days
nights dark, days long, right down to hours.
Even though I know I know,
I cannot fill this page with ink.

I miss the years we breathed in-sync,
Making sweet love in our young age.
But still I truly need to know.
The day that I made such a scene,
when I asked if it was ours
you said "into the coming days."

That answer left me in a daze;
it really put me on the brink.
"Well is it his or is it ours!
To who should you be engaged
when it is so obviously seen
that the father you do not know?"

I couldn't feel. "Say yes or no!"
I cried, and then I cried, for days
I always return to that scene
I wish to blacken it with ink
cover, blot-out, to hide the rage,
return to the love that was ours

I called, it must have rang for hours.
You said, "hello?" "I need to know."
"I'm sure, you've guessed, by this late stage.
Will you still come to her birthdays?"
I just had to simply say no,
but still my mind, that horrid scene!

A therapist needs to be seen.
"I want the lives that were once ours.
It hurts, even more when I think
of being without you. You know
that right?" I asked. "I cried for days,
be taken from me by old age."

"Old age. O.K. I'll... we'll see'y'n
a minute." Hours... then days... You crashed
I know. I ink your epitaphs.

Somnolence

Somnolence seeks solemn scenes
of opportunity.
Marrying many meak meanings. Merrying
near knife
outskirt of
losing light's
ever-present eyes. Even
now needing
ceased censorship. Serendipity
eventually encapsulating everything.






(Mr. Shea, pretty please count this as the 30th of April's post, not the 1st of May's)

The Calm Durring the Storm

I walk down the corridor
A wind rages outside
The storm
No lightning, thunder, hail
Only wind and its howl
All bark and no bite
Yet even such a bark frightens the trees
Several are scared half to death
Twice
Feinting and those that remain, too proud to lift them again
Thier bodies cut to peices by our City
That we may surpass where they have fallen
Continue in this world where they lay down thier lives
Yet this death does not reach me
The hum of electricity ceases in the school
The learning continues on
I tread a hall between a woman who writes from memories
And my note book forgotten beside a now dormant computer
The halls are not dark, shadowy, frightening, or sad
Nor are the happy, joyful, exciting or overwhelming
Today the rage of the storm has forced the place of learning
Into a well deserved break
The corridor I tread is quiet
Content
Calm
Relaxed
Mother nature walks the hall beside me
She does not care about the chattering
Which filters to our ears from almost every classroom door
She cares not about the confusion
The anticipation
She walks with me through the soft halls
The sharp sun filtering through the gray sky and the skylights above
The empty hall no longer rings with the high pitched noise I cannot hear
I feel it is gone
I feel the struggle is gone
The high voltage situations are gone
And all is calm
But for the rage outside the doors

Sensorship

I'm dying.
Please don't allow my death to be in vain.
Worries are willing themselves to the forefront of my mind.
Leave no stone unturned in investigating the cause of my death.
It's all so wrong.
To let these actions go without investigation.
My reward to you will be peace of mind for both of us.
Thank you for helping me even when I am gone.

Dissenter

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r                                                           de


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Silence

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