I know I'm not what you anticipated

So today for my Intro to Education Class I had to observe a middle school class being taught. It's been around 6 years since I've been in middle school and it was REALLY interesting to see what has changed.  I know I was an exceptionally awkward child... but even so.... these girls are like extremely skinny, short sorority girls!  Seriously!  They've got that perfect California bleached blond hair going on... and they know how to use makeup.  When I was in eighth grade I crayoned on so much black eyeliner on I looked like Helena Bonham Carter in Sweeney Todd.  Actually probably even worse...

 I watched a kid literally EAT his pencil which was pretty fun.  And some kid exclaimed loudly, "I'm NOT a kid!  I'm a preteen!"  which was mildly hilarious to me.  I can almost remember being proud of my preteen status way back in the day.   actually come on... this kid was in eighth grade!  aren't you a teenager at that age?  13 at least?  I am confused. anyways.

here is something for you.  happy halloween

Warning!  I love Kate Nash but I HATE this video.  Freaks me out.   It seemed appropriate for Halloween though so have at it.

and you're probably addicted to all types of escape

there are things growing

in my fridge or

brain at

night

as though I have wasted everything

unconsumed

I am one year older

and all the constellations speak of a

wildness my feet have dreamed

of touching since I learned how to

consume ink

the future is yanking my name

from his bucket of things to do

the map above my bed screams

so loud

the nails fastening it to the wall

suddenly sharp in my lungs

my shaking hands know only three words

escape

escape

escape

I'm a closet claustrophobic

addicted to a future of

plane-ticket elsewheres

halfway between the here and

gone

desperate to be lost

before my passport expires

 -------

I hang out with too many foreigners.  Last night my friend told me he could possibly get me a job teaching English in Bahrain next year.... Now THAT is the kind of thing that changes everything.  I really don't think it will happen.  I can't.  Things never work out and it's doubtful this will either.  Plus it would be REALLY dangerous to live there, especially as a woman.

This weekend I almost died twice.  Spun out on black ice twice, crashed down into a ditch the second time..... I have no rear-view mirror and I am really scared to find out what it will cost me to to replace it.   A beautiful man came and helped us out of the ditch.  I may go all Cinderella and scour Fargo looking for him.  Well. maybe not.

The end of something I wrote:

you are standing there

eyes broadcasting enough

optimism to blind me

I cannot bear your eager

hopefulness

I cannot bear your shy

wide eyed

happiness

here is your fortune:

you will fall so hard that

you will not be able to get up

you will give everything

and be left with

nothing

greedily snatched at with

grasping hands

chewed up like cotton candy

thrown away like

broken mouse

ears

Asking Too Much - Andrea Gibson

Excerpts:

“I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through. Tell me what the word “home” means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mothers name just by the way you describe your bed room when you were 8. See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones.

Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mothers joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind. Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel. Tell me, knowing I often picture Gandhi at ten years old beating up little boys at school. If you were walking by a chemical plant, where smoke stacks were filling the sky with dark, black clouds, would you holler, “Poison! Poison! Poison!” really loud or would you whisper, “That cloud looks like a fish, and that cloud looks like a fairy”? Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin? Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea?

See, I wanna know if you believe in any God, or if you believe in many gods. Or better yet, what gods believe in you. And for all the times you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself, have the prayers you’ve asked come true? And if they didn’t did you feel denied? And if you felt denied, denied by who[m]? I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good. I wanna know what you see in the mirror on a day you’re feeling bad. I wanna know the first person who ever taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass. If you ever reach enlightenment, will you remember how to laugh? Have you ever been a song? Would you think less of me if I told you I have lived my entire life a little off key and I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry, I just plagiarized the thoughts of the people around me who have learned the wisdom of silence. Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence? And if you do I want you to tell me of a meadow where my skateboard will soar. See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving. And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people’s wounds.

If a tree fell in the forest, and you were the only one there to hear it, if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound, would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness?"

 -------------------------------------------------------

(I'm sorry. it's another. but aieee I love this. I love it. going on my wall.)

Yarn

Another... because I love andrea gibson

excerpt from "Yarn"

When I say that I miss you, I mean something more.
I mean I’ve been biding my time till you kiss me again.
I keep poems like secrets, then tell them when I’m tired of hiding who I am.
I am missing you most in the silence between songs on my favorite records.
Sometimes it takes so long for the music to start.
Is there a shoreline where the seaweed holds the rocks so tight they soften into sand?
Is it too late to say that’s how my heart feels in your hands,
like you could sift it through an hourglass, and pass it off as time?
Never stood still and neither did I. But I will. If you let me.
In your arms, I forget what the yarn knows of sweaters.
I forget how to hold myself together, so if I unfold now, like a love letter,
tell me you’ll write back soon. Tell me you’ll still come untethered.
I saw the moon last night for the first time in months.
She reminded me of you, slouching stubborn in the light.
I’d fight battles against the sun to rest against you tonight, to feel your breath on my pillow.
Those songbirds outside your window are dropping feathers like I dropped words.
I’m cold from all that came out wrong. I sleep alone now, even when I don’t.
I sleep backbone to floorboards cos they’re softer than regret.
Don’t let me go. Don’t let me go yet.
I traced your silhouette on the skyline.
Your crooked spine bent meadows into mountains I climbed to watch the sun set.
The sky never looked so gorgeous. All those fallen stars, sick and tired of being famous.
That man next door with his old violin. I swore his song could save us.

i wish i was a photograph

“do you remember the night I told you
I’ve never seen anything more perfect than
than snow falling in the glow of a street light
electricity bowing to nature
mind bowing to heartbeat
‘this is gonna hurt’
bowing to I love you
I still love you like moons love the planets
they circle around
like children love recess bells
I still hear the sound of you
and think of playgrounds
where outcasts who stutter
beneath braces and bruises and acne
are finally learning that their
rich handsome bullies
are never gonna grow up to be happy
I think of happy when I think of you"
-Andrea Gibson

Love is a Tablespoon of Hemlock I've Been Dying to Try

-Rudy Francsico


 “The day that I am crazy for your love,
I’ll be such a madman that even demons can not compare.
What a blink of your eyelashes does to my heart,
Even the stroke of the pen of the master of the Divan can not compare."
-Rumi

http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/293/0/2/precious_by_nelleke-d5icg2v.jpg

 

Good skincare techniques

An old woman once told me the secret to looking young at 95

Love Everybody

----

It's so simple, really.  Sometimes I wonder why we even need all these religions.  I will start my own:  Throw love around like a contagion.

 As Slug said,   "I'll make you smile from the simple fact I'm good at it, I'll make you smile just so I can sit and look at it"

oh and my Muslim friend is trying to get me to convert to Islam... it is very unlikely that I will.  but I told him to get me a copy of the Qur'an in English, and I will certainly discuss it with him.  These are my conceptions of it (of course I have never read it, so who knows how accurate they are):

1.  It says women are inferior to men
2.  talks a lot about killing "infidels"
3.  They can't eat pork
4.  Jesus was a prophet, not God

I will let you know what I learn.  Should be interesting.

I gotcha so high

I love dancing.  more than anything in the known universe (that's a lie, sort of) but only sort of.

C'est une transe exquise

why reach for
stars when their
drunken light
stumbles to
us anyway?
maybe a little
late, but eventually…

it doesn’t dim
their shine to
know stars may
not exist any
more, because
(for a time at
least) light was
all we had, to
feast on, and bathe
in, and leave behind
for grey and black
and all those words
we couldn’t take
back 

-http://whoartgos.tumblr.com/

http://www.deviantart.com/#/d5i9kig

When the hands of time
evict the smile from the apartment building of your face.
When you get punched in the esophagus by a fist full of life
Remember
The human heart beats approximately 4,000 times per hour
And each pulse,
each throb
each palpitation is a trophy
engraved with the words
“You are still alive”
…So act like it


-Excerpt from a piece by Rudy Francisco

Good Morning

I couldn’t touch you without ruining you,
so I didn’t touch you at all.

It’s when you’re on the brink of something
that you lose your balance.
You told me that once.
When I can’t bring myself to say what I need to,
my heart plays Russian Roulette with my throat.
I swear I fired that night, but, nothing.

Someday, I’ll show you the bullet I had for you,
after time has done the wash.
I’ll take it out of the jar of missed opportunities.
We’ll hold it up to the light.
You’ll roll it around your mouth like a fallen tooth.
You won’t forgive me exactly,
but we’ll laugh about how small it is.
We’ll wonder how such a little thing
could ever have meant so much

-All I Had to Say for Myself, Mindy Nettifee

 wooooh Portuguese Narration!  why? No clue.

Bridge to anywhere/nowhere

 whoartgos.tumblr.com

at this point
you probably
know this one
is about you

because really
what else would
i have on my
mind

surely not changing
topics or fresh
headlines that
soon rot, like
stop-motion
fantasies

strobe light eyes
brilliant in their
subtlety pull
me closer to
the spaces i cant
wait to occupy

and you’re so
clever you could
trick me into
revealing the things
i’d rather keep kept
away, for now

intrepid minds
can build a bridge
to anywhere

----




uh.  yeah :)

http://overphotography.deviantart.com/art/No-Entrance-332302927

It's crazy how you can find a kindred spirit in someone from such a COMPLETELY different culture. 

I don't really know what I'm saying.  Just.... the world, you know?  These people look so different on the surface, and when you remove the veil, our souls are the same exact color.

Sometimes you just..
sometimes you just find someone.   English needs a word for that.

http://kimeajam.deviantart.com/art/tree-of-heaven-331534394

I am confused.  It has been a long time since I have judged someone's character THIS POORLY.  a year, at least.

out of the frying pan, into the fire hmm?    no regrets, just doubt.  and trepidation.

Do not consume if broken  - (For a better propaganda)

i caught
you walking
where no one
goes, past
the fading
lights
moving
still to
the songs

from last night
when you
were lost
and couldn’t
find your

self, realization
comes sealed,
do not consume
if broken

and you walk
around with
the attitude
that makes
me

curious why
you shouldn’t
take the
risk

and fall down
sometime when
you’re supposed
to, only
words you ever
said

when you stopped
in between steps,
read like a lawyer
covering
her tracks,

the way you
walk…

do not consume
if broken

like appointments
and you’re
so professional
still

the way
you say
my name
and i’d
rather
hear
silence

and all
i want is…
your lips,
the
recurring
silence
of those
familiar
words

had to have
learned from
the arrogant
proclamations,
the hands of
time

do not
consume
if broken

GURRRLLL HE BE SO FINE!

there's this thing where I get really into a guy and I think that if it ends I'll curl up in a ball and die.

and then it ends.

and I don't die.

two weeks later, I end up chasing another car.  different color.  same level of oh-em-gee preteen butterflies.

I am so lame.   see I can sit here and observe all this happening,  and I still think this is the exception.  EVERY SINGLE TIME.

I'm not a freakin' teenager.  I am an adult.  so they tell me.

Attack life

it's gonna kill you eventually anyways.


some piece o' randomness for my poetry class. meh. not my favorite, but here, take and eat.  my mom asks, "is chaos a verb?" my dad says, "too much usage of the word 'we'"    probably I should proofread it but scroooo it.  I don't like it.  or maybe I do.  ;dkjdkakds;k withholding judgment for now, (you should consider doing the same)

there was a poem here

but I deleted it because it was terrible.  so there you are.




and chaos IS a verb. 

lithium

It's the bird, it must have been the bird
Disgusting critter, it must
We should have known better then trust
This disease infested ball of lust and carnage
Piece of garbage with wings and she has the guts to sing
Get the bird, catch her shoot her, I don't care
Get the bird, bring her down to the ground from out the air
Gotta tear her apart, let me at her first
Sink her to the level of the rest of us that inherit the earth

What's she thinking? does she really believe
That she's above the creatures that work the dirt and the streets
See her up in the tree, looking down at you and me
Like she's chosen over those that walk around on two feet
The bird, the melodies she play
The music she make, rubbing our faces in the feces of the daybreak
Trying to remind us, it's time to awake
Antagonizing and instigating my hate
The chirps, I turn them into screams
My feathered friend's end will justify the means
Disturbed, I'll grab her by her beak
And swing her in circles until she's too dizzy to speak

Well I'll shake her from her branch, tear apart her nest
Break her skinny legs and fry her eggs up for breakfast
(She's a snake that can fly) she's just food for the fleas
She thinks she's better then me just because she's free?
I'll shake her from her branch, tear apart her nest
Break her skinny legs and fry her eggs up for breakfast
(She's a snake that can fly) she's just food for the fleas
She thinks she's better then me just because she's free?

My beautiful bird has gone away

 This is for Sunrise. 

very strange thoughts today.


The things I could tell you.
The things
I
could

tell you.

you will never know the creatures
traveling the synapses
in this headmaze

the things that have been mine
the nights I've spent

the infinite mess
tangled in my veins
----------------------------
(that was a bit of a free-write)

so many many many memories.

a letter from my father

Dear Daughter,

            As per your permission I shared your poem with Bruce.  He was very impressed.  He showed it to a whole bunch of administrators at a meeting he had in Minnesota last week and gave a fine testimonial of your work as a CNA.  He  did not pass it out in a format that anyone could copy or use, even though everyone there was moved to tears and wanted to have a copy.  He didn’t want to give it out and then never for you to get credit as the author like the “footprints in the sand” poem.  He will contact you shortly by e-mail to ask permission to share it (and give you credit of course).  It could lead to something big, eventually.  Like maybe CNA of the year or something.  It is a good poem and it speaks volumes with few words.  Start practicing your acceptance speech for CNA of the year.  Don’t thank everyone you know in your speech.  Instead, just tell funny stories about working with the elderly.  I’m sending this letter from my work e-mail account.

Dad

umgsh.  this is so exciting!

I can't remember if I already posted the poem, I will check.

DANCE

okay some of my poetry makes me sound really psychotic. I'm really not.  at the mo'


And yeah, I'm crazy as a toothpaste smoothie
no one can dispute that
but you could never call me boring either
and you will never again meet anyone
who thinks the way I do

If I don't send you screaming for normalcy
I'll become your best friend

let's go chase cars
paint our bodies red and blue
delirious and wild,
unabashedly insane

let's mix our Spanish with Arabic
and meet everyone
in the entire friggin' world.

----

This is a promise that when the cracking of our bones

Becomes a symphony of old age
We will not let that stop us from dancing
This is what love looks like
When you stop talking about love
And you put a microphone to your chest
So your heart can finally speak for itself
-Rudy Francisco

And those who danced were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.
- Unknown 

I danced and danced and danced tonight.  and I was the only American in every single picture taken.  that's what I like. 

sloppy love-poem hammered

what is WITH these poems???  mek;ladskd.  people coming to my house. several that I have a crush on, which could make for an interesting night of Shakespearean proportions.  The comedy! the drama!
------

well I could have been

in love

but there is a

distinct possibility

I was just intoxicated

I'm always getting drunk

on things that

aren't alcohol

metaphorically sloshed on

the snow, the rain,

frank sinatra songs

I got smashed on a swing-set

once

you know

limbs furiously

stabbing the sky

screaming into the

wind

the way you believe

you can fly

for an infinite split-second

anyways,

that night it was you

sometimes

perfection

hits harder than an

ice-cream

truck,

harder than a

fifth of vodka

yours absolutely

floors me

There are two types of people

the stayers, and the go-ers

my brother once took a girl out for sushi, and she said "I only eat American food"

a stayer, a straight. up. stayer.  I told him to drop her IMMEDIATELY because stayers are just not good for go-ers.  I mean, come on..

you really wanna die here? 

among the wheat fields and racist hicks? NO THANK YOU.  I'm sorry I'm always hating on North Dakota... but that's because I pretty much hate it.  well, to be fair... sometimes I don't. 

Two short things:

sometimes

perfection

hits

harder than an

ice-cream

truck

harder than a
fifth of vodka

yours absolutely

floors me

----

 

I.

you tell me:

don't just curl up

in the darkness and

sleep

if you've run out of

candles

why not light the

entire cake on fire?

(there are two more parts to this, but sometimes less is more, ya know?  I will maybe post the full poem in a few days)

.

Gravity

when you’re feeling good
something will
come to crush your flame,

count on it,

it’s happened to me
time after time,

as soon as you
leap into the air
over the open arms of
humanity

someone,
somewhere
has launched a missile
to take you
out

-brightlightsloudnoises

..

“Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day.” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry.” or “What do you think deja vu is for?”. Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator. But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others…” 

- Timothy Leary


fun fact... I have bruises on my arm from a woman at work.  (I feel like a little kid at show and tell right now, except I can't show you them because I am too lazy to take a picture)

http://adhocinvinces.tumblr.com

embrace what you've been running from

"Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious."
-Rumi


It is snowing. 

you could catch me if ya wanted to

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
and all our yesterdays have lighted fools
the way to dusty death.  Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more.  It is a tale
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

-Shakespeare, MacBeth


ah Shakespeare.
master of the death-poem

(here is something unrelated)

what she doesn't know

don’t let outrage die
and
don’t give your love
to the first person who wants it
because they don’t know
what they want

enjoy the wildlife in strip malls

don’t return phone calls
sleep with
brutality
and vengeance

shoot the rain out of the sky

-http://brightlightsloudnoises.tumblr.com/

Sleep

Instead of ripping the covers off of it,
          Shaking it violently,
                    And forcing cold breakfast down its throat,

I wish they would carefully wake a sleeping poem
And ask it gentle questions
          Before its dreams are forgotten

Sleep by *Marian-ette

 I love this.

------
I think I'm a little bit tired of the chase.  

(and then I had a ton of other stuff written out but it started to get metaphorical

so I'll just write a poem instead)

Happy Autumn

!

HOLY FREAKIN' CRAP!


I got a daily deviation.

what. the.

WHAT.

I can only express myself with a keyboard dance

:LDGSDSGDGSDGSDSG

here is the poem that got it:

I Mean to Get You Alone

You have sharp
pulse-elevating teeth
the stuff I imagine heart attacks
are made of

I'm bent on selling you a handful of smiles
specifically crafted
to distract you from the fact that
I have almost nothing to say

and now you're steering this conversation
in a direction that suggests you've

forgotten that I
don't watch movies or do much of
anything but work which maybe

explains why one glass of wine gets me
wrapped around you
car to streetlight
crash style
mangled limbs
breeding curious onlookers and my insurance has
expired

you're leaning in and all I can think is
I don't have insurance 

okay well I'm sorry this was pretty narcissistic.  here have a song.

a lot like you

Excerpt from a lot like you, by Rudy Francisco

When people ask me about my wedding

I never really know what to say

But when they ask me about my future wife

I always tell them

Her eyes are the only Christmas lights that deserve to be seen all year long

I say

She thinks too much

Misses her father

Loves to laugh

And she’s terrible at lying

Because her face never figured out how to do it correctly

I tell them

If my alarm clock sounded like her voice

My snooze button would collect dust 

I tell them

If she came in a bottle

I would drink her until my vision is blurry and my friends take away my keys

If she was a book

I would memorize her table of contents

I would read her cover-to-cover

Hoping to find typos

Just so we can both have a few things to work on 

----

just discovered this man and I am in freakin' LOVE.  

Daisy Salesman

I.

This city is a study

in the cold steel of architecture,

functionality with little else

the wind whispers a funeral dirge

the flower vender is no longer here

perhaps out of business

perhaps something worse

II.

staring at the weeds growing from the concrete below,

I am fascinated by the thought of falling

thirty stories of an infinite flight,

this is existence set on fire

now sprawled on the sidewalk

the crimson shock a love-gift

to awaken the colorless gray

now, shall we know true living?
 in the broken bones,

the screaming nerves,

in these moments just before the end?

---
this is the second half of something I wrote... not sure if I like the first part yet, so I just didn't post it

*oO-Rein-Oo on deviantart.com

Cro-Du

White-trash haikus

My poetry teacher, Cynthia Nichols, wrote these

Distant siren screams
Dumb-ass Vernes been playing with
Gasoline again
---

Remorse
A painful sadness
Can't fit big screen TV through
Double-wide's front door

Deprived
 In WalMart toy aisle
Wailing boy wants Barbie doll
Mama whups his ass

Desire
Damn, in that tube-top
you make me almost forget
you are my cousin

I feel my pulse workin' over time.

Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.
-Vincent Van Gogh

woooh preach it, Vince!

my drama is over so that's happy.  I danced like a fiend this weekend.  first time I've been at to a party where there were more Americans than internationals this year...  (seriously the house had a "we love america" sticker on the door)  met someone cool at said redneck party..

someone tried to get my number and I just said, "nope, I don't give it out to random dudes at parties, I'll see you when I see you, Fargo is a small place."  Then he looked vaguely panicked and he's like, "well take MINE then!!!"  and I just refused him and kept dancing hahaha.