Authoritarianism

It's time for insurrection against this unending infection,
Just note the inflection in my direction.
Please state your emergency. We need a sense of urgency.
We'll end this absurdity with an insurgency.
We are all so blessed and oppressed.
We are the repressed, the second best.
I'm so fixated, and still nothing has abated,
But as they dictated, we must be degraded.
It's time to walk in your shoes and see what's left to lose.
And when they read the news, I doubt they'll disabuse.





That'll teach you to have all male panels for women's birth control. And also insurance coverage for vasectomies and viagra...Everyone sees what you did there.
Why don't you all just go back to work and continue tweeting your dick pics.  At least you'll be kept busy.

Alone On Earth

When I feel alone in life,
I look up to the stars and cry,
"I need release in this fight.
Can I get relief from this strife?"


Sang this on the way back from my car.
God, I've been singing stupid things to myself since elementary school and I'm FINALLY getting some lyrics that aren't totally weird crap.

Yeah Unh!

Now that I dropped my baggage, I'm diminishing the laggage.
You see me coming in first; what can you do to quench your thirst?
I got my money, honey.  And it's a just a little funny, bunny.
I got no degree or loans, yet your dad still owns your bones.
So suck my cock, and don't let your jaw lock.
Because I'ma pound it in and out, as I fill you up with doubt.






The ghetto mini rap I made up walking from my car to the door.
Yeah mother fucker.  Suck on my imaginary huge enormous dick.  Good thing its not real otherwise I wouldn't be able to wear pants.  Yeah feminists do it better.



On a much more serious note,
Men have the power to ruin lives.  At least act like it affects you when you hurt someone, quickly before I lose hope in mankind.



Yeah, that ones is at you, candidates.


Note on 4.2.2012:
I can only imagine the queen from Oglaf.com reciting this.

What I Want To Say To You

You say you're going far and fast,
But you're a hare, and you're coming in last.
So drop that stupid attitude
Before you start into your platitude.
Do you know who you are fighting?
Consider just who you are indicting.
I have only got sour grapes
For you, so stand up straight.  You're not an ape.





This is dedicated to all the stupid fucking bitches (male, female and trans) in the world who never had a chance to listen to me tell them to STFU.
Much more eloquent and even more fuck you when you do it in poetry form.  Take that everyone who pisses me off!!


P.s. Dear readers, I am sorry I have been absent lately!  I tried to schedule enough entries so that I could make it through Valentine's day but it wasn't quite enough.  (I work in the flower trade so V-Day is THE day).  I'm back now with a vengeance!  And my lizard died so I'll be writing his elegy and posting it too.

Time's A 'Tickin'

Time’s A’Tickin’

5/30/06 (math class)

This constant, choking feeling torments me in my sleep.

While a never ending tightness makes it hard to breathe.

The unrelenting tick of that unrelenting clock

Moves its hands around the face, never to be stopped.

It has a care for nothing.  It dominates each life.

It starts and stops for no one.  It’s an unforgiving fight.

Some people say it’s helpful, but I can see it true.

You know it puts a time frame on when we will be due.

The date is set, that’s for sure, last moments will be known.

A lamenting cry for unstoppable time that chills me to the bone.

A stricter hand, I’ve never seen, nor more a flawless face.

One way down with a frown, my heart’s picked up the pace.

The day is short; the day is long.  Alas!  My moment’s here.

I say goodbye, adieu to life, but I'll always be a buccaneer.  

The Little Things In Life

11/8/06

Drinking orange soda pop sitting on the pier,

The breeze is fresh running through my hair.

The moments, I feel, are dear.

Sitting in the my lover’s lap, his arms snaking around,

Leaning back into him,

My heart is right at home.

Scratching a dog behind his ears,

Hearing a kitten purr, I feel warm and so content.

Fuzzy, cute, it’s clear.

Running through a heavy storm,

Never wearing shoes, singing songs, and drawing things,

Enjoying plain ol’ norm.

Chicken soup and otter pops, it’s the little things in life.

It’s just a matter of feeling them.

Relax, enjoy your time.  

(It was time for something upbeat.)

Songbird

Feb 11, 2004

In the darkness of sleep,

A songbird beats clipped wings

Against the bars of terrible fear.

Wander up and down the stairs, to and fro,

Hurling a response to the stillness.

Cries laugh

And quickly, because there is no way of killing voices.

No more within me.

No more time.

Found poem from a page from Anne Frank's diary.  I wrote this in 8th grade.  Cut up the exerpt and glued it on teal paper.  Then I drew a bird in a bird cage on it.  I have no idea where it is now.  

No One Knows

She cries out

And no one hears her;

A radio broadcast

Without receivers.

A silent “MAYDAY!”
“MAN DOWN!  MAN DOWN!”

Jill went up as Jack went down.

No one knows he’s lost his crown.

She’s falling apart,

Inside out.

She fights herself,

She fights self doubt.

The fight unyielding,

Yet, death toll low,

But united she does not stand.

No one will know, she will not show.

Raise up that white flag;

Wind tears tattered bits.

Thunderous crashes of the sea,

Our lady is prone to fits.

A green lady, a lost symbol,

Falls to her cold knees.

Her crown cracks.

She grieves.

A meaningless banter,

The daily routine,

Once proud and respected

Now, cruel and mean.

Nitpick each word, each letter…

“It’s wrong!”  “Take it to court!”

Burn down our fort, it’s better.

White is the kettle.

White as the pot.

Her mindless anger

Is hot to trot.

She’s unzipping.

Her seems are ripping.

The coins are flipping.

Her spirits are dipping.

She does not know.

She has no help.

It might be better, if only she spoke.

The cards are dealt.

It’s not her fault.

It’s ours, not hers.

We’ve made her what she is.

We are everyone, but we throw racial slurs.

Centuries she’s been alive,

But still she’s young and bold.

But secrets, no child should know,

She keeps her lips shut, eyes cold.

She will not relent.

She plots against foes.

And still,

No one knows.

2006

Embracing the Decay

Embracing the decay,

Feeling cold and unwanted,

The loneliness can make you yearn for death.

If my only company could be the Reaper

Then the haunting joy of murder is welcome.

Open the moist earth so god and man can melt,

Their naked existence slowly forgotten,

The way childhood memories fade into the haze of senility.

Let the vast uncaring universe surround my window.

I will never trust that I am something more.

Spiderwebs will straddle the halls ,

Time will reclaim sentiment,

Regardless of our reluctance.

Circa 2008-2009

Late 2008 through half of 2009, I was seriously and chronically depressed.  I'm much much better now. :)  Still twisted as always though. 

What Plagues Me In The Night

#1

They worm into my head through my eyes

When there is only black around them.

The sun shortens the day leaving me with myself.

Things I shouldn't think and things I shouldn't see

Burrow down into my mind and anchor their roots in my psyche.

I don't want anyone to know.

My mind is my secret.

Poison seeps into it at night,

And my own voice charges me to work at my perfection,

To draw my mind away from wear and tear of daytime.

Time is on my side; I have plans to execute.

Silence and grandeur are my unquestionable concepts,

Sacred tallies of my madness.

You'll never realize how far I've come.

#2

Nighttime

Yesterday, some nagging worries

Did devour my night.

Ferocious shadows lingered in the dark.

Pleading to a deity less real than ever,

I am a prisoner of my own vulnerability,

Trusting blankets to supply security,

Secretly knowing that the rot was

On the inside.

#3

Worse years settled,

Lately, I've been writhing on the bottom.

That's why I'd whisper vulgar words.

General cares always tempered the machines,

But when you're exhausting your existence furiously,

the slow laughter and silent voice of death

prove that quietus is a palpable expiration.

November 2008 

No Rest For The Wicked

The work of a slave driver is never done.
Her everlasting work is just no fun.
And by dusk, she knows it's only just begun,
And that sometimes, she must fire her gun.

The vigilant slave driver is ever guarded,
Her slitted eyelids always parted,
Making sure she's not outsmarted.
Daily, her soul's bombarded.





Work is driving me up a wall.

But I work at a flower shop...And next week is Valentine's Day. So what can I really expect?

My Prayer

My Prayer

Hear me, Sovereign!

Guide me with Your gentle grace

Through this surreal world.

So bold are the raw sentiments of Your masterpiece.

Wildly thrown into an empty life

And expected to fill it simply with

Impressive strokes of my own creation. 

The movement of time will claim me

And turn me into a dusty miasma.

And all that will be left is a

Silhouette of existence.

You left a monument.

Infuse me with Your passion

So that I may sing to Your glory

In vivid, pure tones.

Amen.


Written circa early 2009

Winged Hooves

Wingéd Hooves

October 20, 2005

When the groaning, rolling, foaling,

     Mare is swelling, helling, shelling,

Flanks sweating, heaving, heating,

     There comes the colt.

Everybody knows the foals that

     Show and grow and know

That the grass is always greener

     over there.

'Cross the raging, aging river

     with its crazen, changen sliver

Bound lighty, flighty, leapin'

     knobbly legs.

Catch his hoof in deep abysses,

     fallen into long dead wishes,

That young foal did so miss it,

     broke his foot.

Far off futures, once so bright,

     now are doomed to deepest plight.

Panic stealing life's last breath,

     what a fright!

Days go by and by, without a

     single cry

From her dearest, merest child

     Oh m' lord.

As days go by, and time goes 'wry,

    time fades away, to dusky grey.

The mother grieves and fails to eat,

    her heart too weak to beat.

The farmer knew, she'd not pull through

    once she lost her love.

He watched her go, got down low,

    and pet her sayin' "woahhh."

Gentled her last minutes, master

    breathing in her ears,

Words of soothing comfort, whispered

    lullabies.

As her last weak breaths were taken,

    ran a boy slightly stricken.  At

The sight of the dying mare,

    knees buckled.

Sagging against the brown stall door,

    the boy stared at his dead colt's mare,

Tears streaming down his paling cheeks.

    Oh! Woe is he!

Before clouding eyes, memories

   of grassy green and bluing skies

Of yellow sun and daffodils.

   Happy days.

But return does the stall, once more,

   lying on the woodchip floor,

The mare thinks of her little foal,

   now no more.

He was white, whiter than the moon.

   Unlike mother, blacker than the Swoon

Of night that's fallen, but what's unique

   of colt, not mom,

Was but his black, black star upon

   his brow, rare om’n.

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

And so, to this day, did that boy

   say of Starry Night

And mare.

A sadder tale

   nigh unveil

The reason for lost souls.

The children of the farm, thus learned,

   of their grandfather who helped foal

A mystic soul that

   fell into that blackened hole.

To this day, this story retold,

   that mother and child,

Mare and foal,

   still haunt those pastures freezing cold.

I was trying to mimic the beautiful songlike quality of Poe.  It is the one and only poem of mine that has succeed to make me shiver and cry.  I just hope someone feels something twinge when they read it.  

Ode to an English Teacher

It was Ms. Shope
Who gave me hope,
Who told me to write a lot.
It's the way she taught.
Carry on, she said,
And so my imagination fed.
Thank you for all you've showed me.
When I write, I know I'm truly free.



She inspired me and gave me a taste of true freedom writing poetry offers.  I can never thank her enough for what she helped me become, especially so young.  (I had her in 7th and 8th grade).
I tried to visit her today, but I came too late.  So I ran to my car and jotted down this little ditty.  I needed to get my thanks out.  She's the reason I broke 1000 views.  There wouldn't be a blog without her somewhere in this story.

I Am Queen

Time to change into something else.
I'm turning into God Himself.
A powertrip, that's what I need.
A kingdom on which to feed.

All my minions take a plow.
You're in my great providence now. 
Bow down before the one you serve.
I assure you, you'll get what you deserve.

Roco Loco

Lost at Sea

October 22, 2005

A frisky stallion bounds across the sea

With gigantic hooves and bending knee.

Eyes wide open, whiteness showin’,

Bounds Röco Loco, stallion aglowin’.

Breathes the wind, and drinks the rain,

Sinks down low, lightning in his mane.

Sailors seen his wild herd,

Heard his hoof beats where storms occurred.

Crying out to the ether,

Loudest, softest, it is neither.

Long ago, he lost his herd.

Sank beneath the fish and bird.

He’s run around to this day,

Searched for his family.

That is why his eyes are white.

Tears of salt stream make him fight.

His heart is iron; He’s alone.

He lost his drive but to moan.

His high days are all gone.

His hair is streaked; it’s grey by dawn.

He is naught but a ghost,

In his haunting, Earth’s his host.

Sailors tell of huge white winds,

Of thunderheads and deadly grim.

But now you know, it’s none, but Röco,

The loner horse whose gone loco.

Lost his herd, his will to live,

He wanders seas, can’t up and give.

Believes in days when he’ll find them,

His herd, his mares, standing by him.

But fate has hold of his mane,

Knows he’s not to win this game.

Destined to sail the seas,

Not a soul to be seen.

Lonesome now but a legend,

Röco Loco found his endin’.

Poseidon, here, shot him down,

A tidal wave touched his crown.

Wisped up into the winds,

All that’s left: one white grin.

15 year old me needed no editing on this one.  Another narrative and my own myth.  

Apocalypse

Piece by piece,

Grain by grain,

It dismantles.
It rains.

Eggshells and wineglass,

Delicate fragility,

It shatters the peace,

Disturbs my tranquility!

Everything and anything

Is nothing at all,

When it’s broken,

When it’s had its fall.

Damage is determining.

It bases worth.

It will be hated,

Even at birth.

One thing can start it,

Begin the wretched game.

Start the fire,

Light a flame.

It may be small at first,

Just a smoldering twig,

But fuel will feed that fire

Until it’s very, very big.

That fire destroys everything,

Nothing but ash in its wake.

It’s blackened and charred,

Nothing left to take.

Sounds of roaring flames,

Sounds of crackling life,

I see it rage around me;

I see it with the knife.

The world is coming to an end,

But it’s not just one quick slice.

It ends itself by picking

Itself apart, it’s not very nice.

It’s slow and painful,

Drawn out suffering.

It’s Armageddon.

Repent!  It’s ending.

From the raging fire within,

From the darkest corners of my being,

I cry out against injustice,

That life’s so fleeting.

In the end we’re equal.

In the end we’re the same.

We’re just people;

We all share that name.  

Written September 14, 2006.  

If the embedded video doesn't play, click here.
Warning: Contains freak.

Gettysburg Bullets

Gettysburg Bullets

An Ode to Lincoln

11/7/06

Battlefields are humbling.

Here stands a humbled man.

He's tall and quiet; he's orderly.

Don’t deny it, ‘cause he's ahead.

How much power? I do not know,

But he'll change us all forever.

He never knew what he’d do.

Death was much too clever.

But for now he stands upon this ground

Where many men have died.

He suddenly bursts out in speech,

A hush falls on the crowd.

“Not one,” he says, “will remember me,

Nor what we’ve ever done.

Nor will words be remembered,

From this speech that has begun.”

How wrong he was when he spoke,

Too wrong to comprehend.

Later, they say, he sat down

To watch the curtain descend–

A young man, just 26,

determined and misread.

–This young man crept behind

And put a bullet in his head.

It wasn’t long before our

Dearest president was dead…

Wrote this when I was 16.  Guess what we were discussing in American History.

Dumbledore Works For UC Davis

So I dreamt it was September, and I, instead of UCSD, had returned to UCD.  I was in a dorm with all really nice girls this time (thankfully), and there were some dudes next door who were pretty cool.  I felt like maybe, just maybe, this could work this time.  

Then, it sort of turned into Rawhide Ranch where there were kids of all ages around and camp activities.  We had to form groups (that didn't include the majority of our dorms).  Me and my roommate found a couple other girls and this 6 year old girl who was adorable.  Then, we were all gathered for some announcements, and I was carrying the little girl and got in big trouble for it.  I did it again, because I forgot and got taken to the dean's office.  

He was a real dick and made me insane, and I started screaming about how I knew "how to get out of here" and "I could be in San Diego, even if I had to bike there, I could fucking do it," and he couldnt stop me.  I started screaming at him some more like a crazy person saying things like "you assholes don't have a counseling center,"  "no one is a real friend here," "I don't need you!  Other schools will have me," "you people suck balls," "you're going to do this over me carrying a kid?  You're crazy," and so on.  

So, he locked me in his office.  I took the opportunity to hide behind his couch under two blankets.  This was the beginning of my brilliant escape plan.  He came in, couldn't find me, and I bum rushed him and left.  So, he sent out an arrest warrant.  I removed the pane of glass so I could leave easily later.

Finally, Dumbledore gets back and throws me a miniature goodbye party with its own miniature unicorn that I got to ride.  We ate cake, and I left.  Dumbledore set up a rendezvous for me.  

Suddenly there was an unexpected knock on the door.  I hid, and Dumbledore magicked away the party, but it was only Lupin.  After he left, I jumped out the window, crawled along the outside of the building and jumped onto a flowering hill.  I ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran until I found the 3 red cloaked figures waiting for me.  They took me away from UCD.  

From then on, I was on the streets trying to get back to San Diego without a bike, or money for that matter.  I found a white sheep dog, and he hung out with me.  We found this really dirty dock with dead snakes in it and live snakes all along the shore.  It was pretty creepy.  I found one snake that was black and white and like 30 feet long so I called over this snake dude.  He caught it but as he lifted it, the middle of the snake wrapped around my neck.  At first I panicked, and he shouted "fucking snake!  dammit," but then I relaxed, because I knew this dude was a snake handler and could unwrap the snake (which wasn't even squeezing that hard).  And he did and I was free.  I left the snake dock and woke up.

October 9, 2010

Blast to the Past

I want to let you all know that I am now dipping into my archives.  I'm editing everything and publishing everything I've always wanted people to read.  I'm very, very excited.  I may post some read by me to youtube.  I'm going to have fun with it.  Like I said, so very very excited.  You have no idea what's in store.  My little teenage mind, the first inspiration is like the first true leaflets of a sapling.  They're almost neon green with life.  So is my poetry.  WELCOME TO MY MIND.

I've scheduled at least one to be posted a day at 9AM.  If it's set to my time zone, then it's PST.  In case you're that concerned.  I'd like to flatter myself and think you are.

Some of them are not super, but they're fun for me because I can see myself testing the waters of technical poetry.

Sincerely,
Your Telegraphing Queen

Kodi's Epic

Kodi's Epic

May 17, 2004

Listen, my children, and you shall hear

Of the midday chase of a speckled deer.

Twas Kodi, the dog, who ran for this fawn,

But ran into obstacles, just after dawn.

There was this malamute of fluff and hair,

Who hung with coyotes and made a dare:

If he could catch a deer in an hour,

He’d get to keep it, they wouldn’t be sour.

Kodi sat and waited for a stag.

He waited and waited while the 'yotes played tag.

Then, that fateful morning, came the delicious breakfast club,

And Kodi knew he’d brag in every coyote pub.

So, he ran like the wind for a small young one.

For distance was nothing, as if shot from a gun;
Ran so fast he was naught but a blur.

All that was left in his wake was small bits of loose fur.

He ran so fast, he gouged the earth.
He jumped aiming for the fawn’s girth.

He spooked the deer, but…Too late!

What a terrible fate!

Kodi had been running so fast that he missed!

All the coyotes laughed and hissed!
He jumped too far!

He began to howl at a star.

So, all the coyotes growled at the moon,

Drew in their breath to sob at that white balloon.
Kodi closed his ice blue eyes and threw back his head.

--Whence came the custom for canines to cry when we’re in bed.

I wrote this for English class in 8th grade.  We had to make a narrative so I wrote one about my dog, Kodi.

Ode to San Diego

The Pacific potion demands locomotion.
The law of motion means commotion.
It's an occupation of convocation.
It's the temptation of sensation.
My devotion to the ocean
Is a notion of emotion.
It's the Californian beaches and sun.
When it's all said and done, all you want is a rerun.




Also, we're only 4 days into February, and I have 14 posts for this month already...I think I need to pace myself.  The question is, is that even possible?

1000 Page Views

Thank you all for helping make this happen!!  I'm very excited and promise to keep it coming.  Don't stop being literate, y'all!

xoxo
Your Telegrapher

Leaving Tomorrow

If I were to leave this plane tomorrow,
I'd die brimming with sorrow.
The time it takes to rectify my mistakes,
I can only pray that I'm not retired
Before I can be rebooted and rewired.

I broke his heart like splint bone,
And then I turned mine to angelite stone,
So as it decreases, I could smash it to pieces.
I broke it down like contraband.
It's just, I forgot to cut it out beforehand.

And now it hurts so very, very much,
But not like any careless crutch.
It hurts like Might and Ire, and lightning and fire.
It hurts like it's everything I've dreaded.
It hurts like my soul is being shredded.

where do you go when you know the way you came was wrong?

im so fucking lost. fuck this shit.

April 3, 2011
Edited and revised February 3, 2012

Your Mom Haiku'd Me Last Night

Sexy, yours, slutty
Your Momma went to college
Astronaut, old, bitch



Beej, I'm better than fucking A. Marvel, Tennyson, and Keats all mixed together.



But really, my cat could probably make something more creative walking on my keyboard.



Feb 7, 2009



I'm putting it up simply for the 90s-00s level of ridiculous this is and therefore the ensuing humor hidden between the lines.  Enjoy.

Desert Dream Preface

I dreamt last night. It connected a lot of places I've been dreaming about for the last few months, the hotel, my house, the desert, the roads, the caravans.

My mother was set up a the hotel, and there was a pastry convention going on, so I was killing two birds with one stone. Then I went to my dads place to talk to him before I set off home. There I picked up my cat and a dog named Lisa. She's a black boxer with a white chest. She's very amicable (never met this dog in real life) .
Anyway, I set off for the desert, driving the long complicated roads.

When I get there, the caravans have already arrived. Usually I see them on the way to the desert. They set up usually along the side of the road in like mini portable towns, like gypsies. Anyway, this time, they're at the desert tonight, and I let kitty and Lisa out of the suburban and get out to talk with people and start learning about the desert's secrets.

I can't figure out what everyone is doing there. I was drawn there. Theres something foreboding and ancient and hostile deep in the caves in the middle of this desert. And this desert isn't a Kalahari. It's more like our Californian deserts full of dunes....or like a nazca desert. It's got shrubs, and it's sorta rocky and reddish, and it has caves in the distance. 
Creatures lives or lived in those caves, and they're very deep, and I need to go inside and find out what it is.

The one time I did go in, I found an underground waterfall.  In the water at the top of the waterfall, there were stones that made a line pointing out across the top of the waterfall. If you stepped on the stones they turned red, yellow, or green. 

But I didn't go deep that night. I went to bed and when I woke up my dog was gone, and I searched and searched and searched for her. Then I had to leave, because I needed to get back home.  So I went home with only Kitty.  I was pretty sad.


I want to know whats going on!! Each night I hope that my dreams will explain a little more.



March 20, 2010






This is the preface to the other desert dream.  If you look at the tags, there is a desert tag and also a dream tag.  Click either one and find the Desert Dream post for the sequel.  

Hahahaiku

Laughing every day
is my favorite revenge.
Giggle fits for all!!

Once Upon a Love

Drenched in sweats,
Beads were winking diamonds
on our chests.
Fingers explored uncharted plains.
We worshiped each whisper,
Every scream, every moan,
Each and every whimper,
A sea roaring to the promise land.
Thinking while you soak,
Too vast to fathom,
Your tongue caressed the words you spoke,
Drunk with pleasure from assuaging the hunger.
Music from your moist laugh
Rose to play in my ears when
Lust was only half
Of a glistening memory.

March 5, 2009



I never write love poems, I write infatuation poems. 
This was early in our relationship (first few months), before Ray became a horrible alcoholic abusive butt hole. 

Frustration

Finding out she doesn't like you,
finding out she's into men,
finding out she's into you,
but watching her hang all over him:
That is frustration.

Runaway Dream

I dreamt that I ran away. I stole rays car and I drove across state lines. And i cried and played music and sang loudly and had to fill up and random gas stations.For once I had a driving dream where I wasn't stressed out about which bypass i was trying to get on. I was just driving away.Also I dreamt i got kfc and ate it. O.oI wasn't driving TO a place, i was driving AWAY from a place (what I once called home). Life's a little out of control lately (what with my school fiasco still totally up in the air). So we all know what this dream was about.I did miss kitty and a bed and hugs on tap and normal food.



June 31, 2011
 
I dreamt this while I was fighting with my ex and he was telling me it was my mistakes which led me to be rejected from university.  He was also telling me karma gave me the ear infection, complete fraud of my bank accounts, one hit and run and one rear-ending where I got minor whiplash (ALL of this was in one shitty month).  Idk, maybe some politicians deserve that, but a girl who's being brainwashed does not.  And I say girl because at the time I was not a woman.  Now you understand why running was the only solution my subconcious could find.

Earaches

This throbbing in my eardrum
Drives me into a frenzy with each heartbeat.
I can feel the sound of my blood
rush in
and fill an already overcrowded space
to bursting before rushing out
just before destuction.


btw im drunk so dont judge the free form.
MY EAR HURTSSSSSS

Extremely loud heartbeats
Attack my eardrum each second,
Racously swelling the aching web to
An acutely uncomfortable arch.
Cures are no where to be found.
Heaven nor Hell can offer me refuge from this
Earache in my head.



.
 
Written July 23, 2011

We Are The Gods

In a beginning
Unpleasant as can be
There was blackness.

A sudden, stinging light
Blinding all worlds,
But there was no one there to see.

It was not long,
Night but a few billion years,
Merely a newborn land

Something grew,
Something unseen,
Something new.

The destroyer
And creator,
It was life.



Written in 2006 for Biology class

Under the Inquistion

Breathe it out, breathe it in.
You keep coming back to haunt me,
"Jesus' da one who coulda been."

But my eyes see it all so clear.
The Inquisition's far away,
but it never disappears.

Try to put it in the past
Hold on to my cross
And do my tasks.

I don' wanna dream about
All the things that never were.
And maybe I could pray without
When I'm out from under.

And I don't wanna feel the pain.
How could chains hold me down?
I guess I'll be a convert now.
When I'm out from under,
From under, from under...

And my eyes see it all so clear.
You burnt da Vinci and Angelo
And now they've disappeared.

Breathe it out, breathe it in.
I'm a secret Jew, a dreideler,
And now challah's a sin.

And my eyes see it all so clear.
I've commited heresey against
the Vatican, I fear.

Try to put it in the past
Hold on to my cross
And do my tasks.

I don' wanna dream about
All the things that never were.
And maybe I could pray without
When I'm out from under.

And I don't wanna feel the pain.
How could chains hold me down?
I guess I'll be a convert now.
When I'm out from under.
I guess I'll be a convert now.
When I'm out from under.
And I don't wanna feel the pain.
How could chains hold me down?
I guess I'll be a convert now.
When I'm out from under,
From under, from under...



To the music of Britney Spears' "Out From Under".

Lyrical spoofs continue!!
Also, I'm super freaking nervous for my meeting this afternoon. So much is contingent on getting what I need, and what I need is not going to be easy to get. WISH ME LUCK. AH DO WUH AH WAN!

Also, Switched on Show Episode #120 dirty inspiration:
You never called my phone after that rusty trombone. Oh Susie Q.

You've got the face of a dog. You took all my yule log. Oh Susie Q.

Shame

You strung me along
Telling me my mistakes
Were all one and the same.
Did you ever feel a pang of shame?



Yay wine class inspiration!

Haiku Madness Deux

A poet cannot
Silence herself. It would be
A sin to mankind.

When inspiration
Strikes like a cobra, I must
Get the poison out.

Haikus are perfect
For busting boredom. Pick up
A pen and try it.

If I'm not careful
I'm going to fill up this
Paper with haikus.

A drink can drive a
Man mad, but a woman will
Be driven to dance.

The children of grapes
Have fortified man for eras.
Wine: of gods and apes.


Sensory analysis of wines can be slow sometimes. Also my nose is finetuned during these three hours and someone just let loose a really gnarly one. D: dying over here. No aromatic sprays allowed.