October Flames

Rustling fire flutters through the air

Growing ever upwards reaching high

Cold October flames softly lick

The grey November stratus sky

Ponderings, which themselves are trying to be a Poem.

Sometimes I wonder.

There are many things I don’t understand

but I think the greatest bafflement of all is

that which I am made of.

I don’t mean atoms

(although I still have yet to see one),

but the stuff that makes me…

…what?

Me?

Tick.

Exist.

I pride myself on

reading people;

twitchy hands,

folded arms,

kind eyes,

they all speak mountains about the

people

who possess them.

Sometimes I just

watch people

and imagine their lives…

Her daughter’s schoolwork brings out the grey around her temples.

His father disappears at night and comes home not-quietly-enough to maintain his secrets.

This one gets in fights. See the yellowed bruises and the scars around his knuckles.

These two aren’t as in love as she thinks they are.

But I can’t figure out that greatest mystery of all.

Myself.

Sometimes it seems like

certain people

see right through me.

They make some statement about my inner character that

is obvious

to them.

And I act like I’m well aware

and then I go home

and stare at myself in the mirror

and wonder,

“What’s behind those eyes?”

Blue eyes,

bluer some days than others.

People tell me I have my grandfather’s eyes.

I have nobody’s eyes.

I have nobody’s

atoms.

Does someone really exist if you’ve never

seen their face?

touched their skin?

heard their voice?

Or is she,

that elusive woman I might have called

“mother,”

just a

hypothetical

person?

With hypothetical

children

who she hypothetically

didn’t give away.

When I cried at night

as a child

and begged the darkness for my mommy,

why didn’t I

walk across the hall to her room?

Why did I

never quite fit

inside her arms?

She loves me,

I know,

but why didn’t

SHE?

The other.

The hypothetical.

I don’t begrudge her decision

to give me a better life than

“that kid with a teenaged mom,”

but why

the seperation

the firm

sharp

cleaving of ties?

Is it true that babies

in the womb

can feel how their mom

doesn’t want them?

Is that why I need,

so badly,

to be loved?

to be accepted?

Like I never was.

Or was it that she did love me

but had to say goodbye

and I felt her presence go

but didn’t understand?

Is that what I feel

when I can’t seem to patch up

that little hole on my heart?

Maybe I’ll never know.

Or maybe I’ll find her.

Maybe she’s beautiful now,

a grown woman, ready for the world,

with a life, a family.

A family that’s

not mine but somehow also

slightly

me.

Sometimes I wonder.

Late at night

I lie awake

and I listen to the house,

the house I grew up in,

the one my loving parents raised me and my brother in,

as it settles down for a cold winter night.

Sometimes I pull my blankets up

over my nose,

because it’s cold,

and I feel the weight

of abandonment?

of disillusion?

of displacement?

of heavy woolen blankets.

Sometimes I wonder.

Confidence

I’m an actor. It’s what I’ve identified myself as for the last few years, and it’s really what I’ve become. Yeah, I do lacrosse, and I do theater tech, but acting recently became part of my everyday life. I know it’s not really a good thing but I’ve found that I can turn myself into whatever I need to be to fit into a situation, if I have the energy. I know I can be happy in any situation if I feel up to it, and that thought both makes me proud of myself and disappoints me at the same time. Sometimes I wonder, have I become such a fluid personality that I’ve lost track of who I really am? Or did I ever really know in the first place? Every so often people will tell me things like “You’re the happiest person I know!” or “I wish I had your confidence!” And it always takes me aback. I guess I am intending to fool people with the smiles I paste on and the body language I force but I never think that I’m actually succeeding…

The truth is, half the time I’m “at my happiest” I’m actually just waiting for a moment alone to break down. The truth is, I suffer from cripplingly low self confidence. I know I have nothing to complain about, I’m decently good looking, I have no trouble carrying out an intelligent conversation with a group of adults, but as soon as it comes to people my age, boy or girl, I am suddenly hideous, can’t form a coherent sentence, stutter like a fool, and dress like a child. I’m aware of every zit on my face, how frizzy my hair is, that stain on my unflattering t-shirt, my boyish jeans, and my stupid pink sneakers. And if I’m dressed up, I feel like a kid playing dress-up in mommy’s clothes.

I know I have the capacity to feel good about myself.I know I can be proud of who I am and what I do. I know that I can rock a bikini, and that my friends will think I’m pretty in a band shirt or a prom dress. I know that even if I’m not at summer camp or backstage I should have the confidence and peace of mind to be able to get through life without the constant reassurance of my friends but I can’t seem to convince my heart of it.

I guess what I’m really saying is that I always thought of myself as an independent person, but when it comes down to it, if I don’t have my friends to keep me floating, everything comes crashing down around me… and I don’t know what to do.

I hate Puppylove... So why am I in it?

I met a boy in Barcelona

cliché upon cliché

we smoked a joint in Barcelona

and then we parted ways

I met a boy in Barcelona

his smile warmed my heart

the sun has set on Barcelona

and now we’re torn apart

I left that boy in Barcelona

he said “Remember me”

I look back on Barcelona

and that boy from Calgary

Gnéis

Innocence is drowned

in a sea of

alcohol

blood

sweat and

juices.

Tears and flesh

folding to fit

into the mold of Adulthood.

A little more here, a little less there.

Straighten this,

shave that.

Do what you must,

never

be fat.

Eat me.

Drink me.

Throw me up.

Do what you can.

It’s never enough.

Some will live, some will die,

just don’t let them see you cry.

And tell all the girls

with their big blue eyes

all their favorite petty lies.

Line your eyes and paint your nails

paste on that smile and tuck your tail.

Follow them round like the bitch you are,

keep your mouth shut

and you’re bound to go far.

Build Me a House

Build me a house with a view of the sea

So we can sip wine and wade in to our knees

Build me a house up high in the mountains

Where apple trees grow round a bubbling fountain

My house can be wood or my house can be stone

So long as you promise I won’t be alone

Your eyes are my roof and your arms are my walls

And as long as you hold me my house will not fall

Build me a house out of smiles or tears

Build me a house to protect me from fear

Build me a house out of sunshine or rain

Build me a house that will keep out the pain

I don’t need a house filled with music or art

So long as you’ll build me a house in your heart

Grounded

strawberries aren’t always sweet

sometimes hot tar burns your feet

thunderstorms can shake the night

things don’t always go quite right

summer can’t fill all your dreams

not everyone can be prom queen

reality hurts when you’re crashing down

so keep your feet on solid ground

I never thought this would happen...

I’m so unbelievably homesick. I miss my friends and KUA and the trees and the foliage and Calvin and the smell of wet grass and smoke that is autumn in New Hampshire… all I want is blood-red oaks and golden birches and bronze beeches… and apples and hot cider… and pea coats and scarves… and red noses and watery eyes stung by crisp wind… and football under the lights with free cocoa and brownies… and driving through the morning fog, in a fog of my own, and suddenly being struck by the sight of a mountain, burning with a beautiful fire of mottled trees… and playing on the swingset and sitting in the amphitheater… looking over the parking lot across the pond towards the fields, watching the athletic people doing athletic things… I miss people who know me better than I know myself. I miss Arizona tea, hummus and carrots every Wednesday and Saturday. I miss Sterno and the sound of a screw being driven into a two-by-four by a drill with a dying battery… I miss salt art and “that’s what she said” and watching people dance. I miss napping on the couches and climbing up the A-frame. I miss wrenches in my back pocket and safety cables around my neck. I miss snow and ice and how sometimes the sun hits it just right… I miss holding hands and skipping down the hill. I miss the walk from Flick to fourth floor Baxter. I miss breaking into Mikula. I miss everyone and everything so much more than I ever thought I would. I know Hamilton will be amazing but I think London is tearing me apart. I like everyone but I don’t click with anyone here and I don’t know what to do….

I guess I’ll just keep smiling…

Ohm

Quality

Deep heavy breaths

Quantity

Keep them coming

Solitude

Eyes wide shut

Connected

To the soul of all things

Open

To the heartbeat of everything

Close

Yourself to the noise of the world

Listen

To the resonating tone of nature

Look

Deep inside for ohm

London

I do not like the smell of London
London smells of rain
And asphalt and construction zones
And the odd underground train


I miss the feel of my bare feet
Walking on bare earth
I miss the feel of dewy grass
I miss sitting in the dirt


I miss the taste of mountain air
And the sound of mountain springs
I miss the breeze tossing my hair
And the warmth the sunshine brings

Drown In You

I just want to kiss you

on the cheek

on the neck

remember what your skin feels like on my lips

breathe you in

drown in you

that’s all I want right now

I just want to feel you

here with me

next to me

remember the rhythm of you heart

pull you tight

keep you near

That’s all I want right now

I am.

I’m not very pretty

But I pretend to be smart

I really like music

I appreciate art

I don’t wear my hair up

And I can’t walk in heels

But I know how to laugh

And I know that I’m real

I don’t much like shopping

And I don’t wear J. Crew

But I’m true to my heart

And my heart’s true to you.

Soul Stitches

We have stitched ourselves together

Through the needle of an eye

Souls melted together

For the span of both our lives

We’ve pulled the stitches tight enough

No space between for lies

And we’ve tied the ends so firmly

There’s no need for sad goodbyes

Star Searching

Baby I’ve never

Been closer to the stars

But I think that I’d rather

Have my head on your heart

And we’d lie beneath them

And they’d look so far

But we’d feel all wrapped up

In their velvety arms

Because there is no star

Or planet or moon

That could ever fill up

My heart more than you

And even if all

Of my dreams could come true

I’d never fly up there

If I couldn’t bring you

So lie with me baby

On this starlit turf

And let’s let our roots

Sink into the dirt

And although our bodies

Are trapped here on Earth

My eyes will always

Be star-searching first

Laryngitis

thirty two notes

trapped in my throat

straining to be free

song after song

and each one longs

to be free

but I’m all choked up

I can’t spit them out

my voice is gone

can’t sing, can’t shout

can’t scream, can’t cry

want to weep, want to die

I don’t know how

to speak softly

to use kind words

all I want

is to bitch out the world

Younger

Everyone looks younger when they’re sleeping
When pleasant dreams settle over daytime woes
Like sunshine drying rain-soaked grass
As heavy eyelids search for peace and flutter closed
And daily worries and their wrinkles fall away
Everyone looks younger when they’re sleeping
When darkness overcomes the fear of night
No child or man can run or hide
From that gentle dimming of the light
As the sky falls from rosy gold to dripping black
Everyone looks younger when they’re sleeping
But everyone looks older when they’re dead

Bloodwine

I've got a belly full of blood
that I'm wishing was wine
I'm looking at your picture
wishing you were mine
I'm thinking back so far
remembering the times
before we let go
when we were still fine
I used to see poems
when I looked in your eyes
our lips would make music
and the words always rhymed
but then there was danger
and then there were lies
and I only hurt you
so I cut our binds

The Taste of Vanilla Ice Cream

I had a realization the other day
it may seem silly but it said a lot to me
I was eating ice cream and suddenly
I was full
and I was happy just enjoying
the taste
of the little bit of ice cream I had
and I think that
felt like growing up

Magnolia Leaves

magnolia leaves
fall from blossoming trees
onto rain-soaked, sun-scorched pavement
where they will meet
hard callused feet
who will tread them indiscriminately
perhaps their rich greens
are what make them seem
so hearty, so indestructible
but even leaves
can have their dreams
crushed by wandering children

Headlight Days

headlight days
burn me at both ends
eight to eight
I'm getting the bends
coming up too fast
growing up too fast
moving altogether too fast

headlights turn
snowflakes into stars
lights that burn
stretching out for yards
never far enough
never strong enough
never burning quite bright enough

we'll move on
we'll all move away
but our song
continues to play
it will play for years
and it will take years
but we will all survive the years

we will smile
and we will be strong
for a while
we will carry on
the sun will go down
the earth will go round
and we'll all end up underground

What Good

what good is nighttime
if you can't see the stars
what good are fireflies
trapped up in jars
what good is sunshine
if you haven't felt rain
how can you be happy
if you've never known pain

I'm sorry...

how do I tell him
that the spark just isn't there
how do I tell him
that there's no love in the air
how do I tell him
it just doesn't seem fair
how do I tell him
that this is going nowhere

Watch me...

watch me jump towards open air
watch me hope that you'll be there
watch me dream away the days
watch me die when you're away
watch me wish that you were here
watch me fold under the fear
watch me hope that you'll be true
watch me wish I was with you