January 2012
53 posts
4 tags
Bricks to a wall,
Grass makes a meadow,
trees together create a forest
While you and I make a love.
A tall standing wall,
This place to lay a heart,
Our roots holding deep.
But every landmark crumbles,
Fields of green turn gray,
While you and I make a love,
So does death making a beating sun,
Grass without rain, with overfeeding flocks.
With winter, cold and snow
So we both must go.
December 2011
88 posts
1 tag
May I say there are days
When I waste quite a bit of time
sleeping, rather than staying up late thinking
I waste quite the time with rest
instead of reading, dreaming
instead of waking up
with blood shot mornings
books, coffee, and thoughts with loving
hoping, dreaming, thinking, sinking
All of these things instead of sleeping
I’d do the same, if a girl were in my arms
Perhaps all...
1 tag
These have been days seeming as dreams. Perhaps as I sleep, my thoughts will feel real. Yesterday will blur. I promise the day I turn my head and say I truly love you, that day will be one different from the rest. I will hold onto this just as if I awoke, and as I forget it…perhaps it never really happened. Tragedy is vivid and a burning home won’t built itself up from the ground. How...
4 tags
Everything about me on this earth leading after my death, will be fairly simple. After a few years, my footprint will simply be a tombstone. I don’t need to be remembered. If our only goal was to be remembered, well, then it would also be part of my job to do some remembering myself. There are billions of people who once were. I would certainly be remembered only for remembering so many...
At age eleven I was told to write myself a letter to who I would be the day I was expected to graduate from high school. It was to be handwritten. Two years ago, as directed, I opened my letter. I never bothered to read the words. My handwriting was horrible. More importantly, I remembered every word. I wanted to be responsible, well thought of, grown up, happy and helpful to others. My previous...
2 tags
Me: Karli how did you get so lucky to have a brother like me?
Sister: I ask myself that question all the time.
Me: Katie, how did you so lucky to have a brother like me?
Other sister: Depends, what'd you do?
Me: Mom, how did you get so lucky to have a son like me?
Mom: What do you want? I think the question you should be asking is how did you get so lucky to have a mother like me.
I never want to use this place as a last resort to flaunt self pity, but from time to time I may very well write about stories of sadness, at least, when I am sad. This isn’t a place for me to pretend I am great and yet I will write about happiness when I am happy. I will never intentionally fish for compliments. I consider that a very insecure thing to do. Even then, when I am depressed...
1 tag
I would do better understanding that I know very little. Having quite the ego leaves quite a bit of distance to fall, from the highest point to the ground. Arrogance is the highest point. I would much rather fall than stay up so high above reality. It’s a crumbling tower with every brick built out of every little reason as to why I have an exception from self criticism. I’d do better...
1 tag
Nine years ago, I would have been in a small class specifically designed for kids academically behind. It was in the sixth grade, first period, and the subjects were English and spelling. It was a small class of three or four people with a few occasional students who visited for testing. They split the class after Literature. Halfway through the class we would go to a separate room. Everyone knew...
2 tags
“I have, many times, told myself that a pretty face comes a dime a dozen. Yet somehow I am captivated. If her face, her stance and structure were a statue I would have marveled in her beauty, simply smiled; then I’d move on. Don’t tell me that I love her for her outside casing. Don’t call me insensitive for referring her body as a casket. I’ve heard you say far worse....
Writing good poetry, well, feels a lot like puking. Run to paper, spill out your guts and watch as the reader in awe exclaims “my, what a horrible state of affairs!” It is, in fact horrible, putrid even. And later, even then, the reader is compelled to stare and wonder exactly what it was the writer ate for breakfast the morning before.
1 tag
I’d just like to highlight a few of my posts.
Tear me from my room Bad dreams My Heart paints her Face Writing is for writers. Loving as a tragedy My Jar of memories Confessions of… I’m sorry, I love you, take me back. I just met a girl called Maria (kidding) Silly but true graph Yes, I did in fact write this after coming out of a soundproof room.
Since I’m here...
1 tag
One day I will write real enough. It will be so real, in fact, that my story will tear me from my house. This is insanity, and every written page on my desk is proof of it. Every single page with a story explains in detail exactly how I have attempted in one way to pull myself from these small spaces. These are places with skies of purple and with made up friends. Just now, just now I pulled my...
It would be awfully stupid of me to give this heart and wallet to anyone who isn’t capable of offering the solution, when they also provide the problem. There are countless problems, with finite solutions, trivial concepts that substitute the painful truth. I can very well see that there is a problem. Our eyes see storms and a nose will smell fire, but a brain is built for thinking. With a...
2 tags
six squares hold me in
one on top and another under
There’s a wall behind me
the front, and side to side.
A simple cube, holds me from
the dreams I swear would make
me fly from the corners of these
walls if the roof gave way,
if my box would play a plane
Surely I’d quickly
float away or
least I can imagine
that I would really leave
if these four walls gave way.
3 tags
Ignorance is a one way radio.
Just try mixing that with love.
then we find fools
fools for feelings
feelings for others,
others, for anyone
aside from a fool
fools find fools
ignorant, blind, in love
until they ignorantly give up.
2 tags
People who tell us to follow our dreams, I’ve quietly laughed and smiled at the concept. Do they assume that all dreams are innocent? A dream can be evil. It can be wicked and tasteless and full of revenge. It’s as if everyone who ever said. “follow your dreams” underestimated the power of dreamers. Dreamers dream everything man has ever attempted, but not succeeded. A...
2 tags
My will stiffens the same as an overworked muscle. Life very much seems to be an endurance race. Every moment I spend gasping for air. I used to be a horrible runner. This is to be said in a very physical, literal l sense. I am a horrible runner. A race is anxiety at the starting line, fear around the first lap and by the second, my lungs are burning. The race is won, not only by running, but by...
7 tags
If love is a song, I don’t know how to sing.
There’s only a whisper no one seems to hear
Love is only given to those who ever listen
and there is a fear of my heart,
please don’t shout.
Place me in a small box
Press my soul between two pages of a book.
Pull out, this dried out heart
Understand, in a million years,
it will still stay the same.
Understand, that it is pain...
“As nothing is more easy than to think so nothing is more difficult than to think...”
– Thomas Traherne
3 tags
A picture will hold such as you are in that physical, definable sense. What if beauty were more? My dear, what if, of the thousands of words that a picture can speak, what if the words that they didn’t describe were the words I needed to read, or even needed to hear from your voice? If a picture tells a thousand words, well, a picture of my heart would speak a single sentence at least a...
2 tags
It’s strange to feel that the most gifted have always wished that they could be gifted. The talented cry for talent. This is more than a little ironic. The foolish think they are so smart. The famous take a strange turn downhill, at least, when they find themselves to be the upper class. This may be trivial speculation. I don’t quite understand how my greatest moments have been spent...
4 tags
Lovely people, let me say that they all have beauty in them. They are to fall completely in love with the wrong, to fall completely in love with pleasures, houses and riches. A lovely girl will find herself involved with a man for all that he has to offer, regardless, that little of it comes from his insides. I wonder how many souls give love a bad name? The world is busy searching for a house,...
A letter is a beautiful piece of writing. A letter is far more personal than the words I write here. They hold a secret. They may even hold a thousand other things, but a letter also holds its own soul that will never be replicated, republished or ever changed. The contents of a letter are extremely solid. There is no way to take back a letter sent in the mail, and all the more, the words in a...
Writing is something that takes time and patience. A research paper doesn’t get written over night (college being the exception). A novel isn’t written in a week. Sometimes, just sometimes a really beautiful poem isn’t written in one sitting. Writing takes time. If it is something that has truly come from my entire being, than i may as well make sure I do not disagree with it ten...
Things I need to work on
-Stories, not just concepts
-More than one character
-Going to bed on time
-Interesting posts
-Stretching ideas so stories/concepts aren’t small, vague, and needlessly trivial.
-Creating scenarios between two or more characters.
-Write about scenery in a way that explains a particular personality in that character, or of the narrator.
1 tag
A soul who never longs for a kiss can’t possibly sit and imagine what it’s like. The longing for a kiss without being able to satisfy it is half of what makes a good kisser. The other half, is imagining what it should be like. Every kisser, by law, is a dreamer. First, the kisser must imagine what a kiss is like. This is at least to be a dreamer in some sort. But for him to become an...
1 tag
A beautiful person will write beautiful words, or at least, a poor soul who at least understands beauty will find themselves capable of describing the existence of it. I am not a beautiful person, but if I may fully understand its concept, will I not be able to write about it? I should hope to. I am more than capable of writing about dragons without seeing the existence of one, and just as much, I...
1 tag
I find a great amount of frustration when I travel through the halls of a bookstore. There are a thousand covers telling me exactly what kind of reader they have been written for. Harlequins have shirtless men, and the science fictions have fancy pictures. Children’s stories are stacked, neatly, within their own section… These books look at me with disdain. I already know the ending....
2 tags
My favorite color is gray. It’s the color of deep clouds that bring rain. I love rainy days. It’s the color of the mark on my pencil. Gray isn’t a boring color. It’s the color of a beginning.
3 tags
There are days I wish it would rain
Just to know the sky feels the same way.
What if water came from heaven
What when water hits the ground
falling through space, empty.
Maybe my heart is flat
and when it rains
my joy goes dry
come from nowhere
the clouds just form
and the joy of my soul
seeps in, and quickly outt
2 tags
I do not hold onto very many things. I consider material objects strictly materiel. Gifts, however, are completely different. They will mean a great many things depending on the love of the giver. Then, it simply has value in the memories the objects holds. I never really played with toys. Every so I often I would create situations for my toy soldiers to travel through. To this day, I miss very...
My dear friends and readers. I have found what it is I am afraid to write about. It’s a feeling, and it is a part of my reality. I will always feel this way and I will always be humbled by it’s reality. I’m afraid to say it. I’m afraid for strangers to know it. It has, nothing to do with anything I can describe. It is a feeling l love, and therefore, I am afraid to write...
I know the ending of a book by less than it’s last page. I know it by my gut’s release. By that gripping, biting feeling holding my entire body and soul at bay. With some books, my physical and mental release is quick and peaceful the instant I finish the ending sentence.There are books that hold my soul. I read them twice. They stab at my soul. I’ve read books overnight. I...
1 tag
I can easily imagine groups of high school students skipping school together, or just not showing up for class. I skipped high school, halfway through the day, I was all alone, and it was only just once. I just felt so tired. I don’t mean sleepy. I mean mentally exhausted as if my entire senior year was one long endurance race. I was panting for breath the whole way. I barely had any air at...
1 tag
Confessions of a struggling college student
-I went through the first two months without financial help of any kind
-was also broke, I had to go on a loan agreement to help pay for tuition, room and board.
-got a job two weeks into the school year working at a music store
-After the first month, both my employers and I came to terms that my school schedule was too busy to work around. By this...
2 tags
saying you’re sorry is a form of apology that means virtually nothing when pertaining to traffic and arriving late to dinner parties. It is disregarded by both parties of the apology, and with little consistency, the problem is generally ignored. It is a simple remark bent on polite regards to a preexisting problem. I hate these sort of apologies. People who consistently apologize in this...
1 tag
“You speak as a writer” It was the beginning of a strange speech. This whole night he had said very little and it all felt like he was a critic towards life it self, and more important to the moment, he was also a critic of my life and he was ready to give me my review. “You speak like a writer and you know how to do it well. Every time I hear your words, I hear you’re...
2 tags
Find a single book
the world would be offended to see you read,
take it to a coffee shop.
read it on the bus.
shock the children
and the wives
ultimatum
come
time
are they stupid
are they blind.
Take it to a crowded school.
Read it after class.
“Sit down”
High and mighty
“you’re reading that?”
Kids who don’ read.
I did this once.
Now,...
1 tag
When I write, I write as if another soul is speaking to me. I can seldom decide whether my words call her to speak, or if it is my job to simply write what she speaks to me. I cannot recall her face, or her smile. All I know is that she has a beautiful speaking voice bent on verbally describing the same words that I attempt to write. She is far more expressive and I listen to her as I listen to a...
2 tags
We think we’ve seen war through picture and I doubt this very much. We think we see war through the news. War is a place where the fear has its eye on the living. War freezes over men in the winter and war numbs the soul of anyone man who is not so sure of what he believes in, and more important, a man who is not so sure what he is fighting for. I should like to know that I am at war with...
1 tag
There are days when my heart freezes over. It is a song that stabs into my heart. It’s as if my body has always been leaking into the small cracks in my heart and now it is full. It is not a fullness I can define. I can neither resent it nor can I be at peace. It consumes me and I am heavy with feelings. Perhaps it is my heart begging for sleep, but not sleep for rest. Instead, it is begging...
I have a book to read. I have far more thinking to do. I have thoughts to mingle. I have love to never understand (and try nonetheless). I have more than enough.
These things have made me thankful as well as blessed.
My heart is as weak and as fickle as my body, and yet, I demand more of it than anyone else. If that is not strong, than my whole being will blow away at a whim. I shall take up my high ground, and fall in love so as not to see the inner parts of my body ripped from itself. I have not said no. But the love that is difficult to take, it is also the most difficult to give back.
I seldom ever feel love without feeling pain, and so in this, I have come to welcome both.
1 tag
I cannot write about love,
Not with understanding .
I could write with experience
Or with emotion.
but the more I love
As the more, or less, love me
Or as the one who loves me more
As the more I find in this one for me to see
So shall I understand little of love
and love of me.
1 tag
I am lost in fog regardless of whether the ground I stand over seems familiar or strange. To say the least, the fog will be why a living character will stay in the same place for such a long time. Where they sit, on the same plain of grass, their ideas on placid scenery stay unchanged. It is needless to say a wandering man is just as lost as any mind that hides in one place. A wanderer will simply...
3 tags
She had set the standard of what was not only beautiful, but her approval had become his basic standard for anything also acceptable. Many times, this has been a situation built upon natural events. Notably, many boys and men have found themselves within this kind of insecurity on their own accord. But her use of such constant flattery was very much intentional. At first she fed it to him like a...
1 tag
As an artist, or really anyone with an imagination, It will always be important to create multiple characters. But among the ideas and wonders of any thinker, it is at least important to remember that there is a first person view we will never be exempt from seeing through until our death. I will never be sure, really, if this is a character I was strictly born in or one that I am strictly in...
