Quiet Things

1368 Emily Dickinson

2010-09-28T21:21:00.001-05:00

This is by Emily Dickinson.

1368

Love's stricken "why"

Is all that love can speak --

Built of but just a syllable

The hugest hearts that break.

Café Terrace at Night

2010-08-06T17:08:00.004-05:00

This poem was inspired by Vincent Van Gogh's painting, "Café Terrace at Night." Here is a link to a picture of it: http://www.vangoghgallery.com/catalog/Painting/53/Café-Terrace-on-the-Place-du-Forum,-Arles,-at-Night,-The.html

Café Terrace at Night

Walking on the cobble streets
with my lover in hand
heading to the café
seeing others talking and laughing
and sipping cigarettes and coffee.
The only light that is shining
on this dark city street night
is coming from the café,
illuminating with the people.
The wooden chairs, the coffee
look inviting to our tired bodies.
sitting, admiring the big tree
the vivid night sky
the streets that line the town
the luminosity of us, the people
at this small café,
the only bright light in this big black and blue city

Remix

2010-08-06T17:02:00.003-05:00

I originally intended this poem to be a strictly performance poem and not for on paper. However, after I performed it I received great feedback and requests for leaving it on paper as well. So, here it is.

Remix

Woman is what we are
not bitches and hoes
stop disrespecting us
we’re not what you chose.
Words like bitches and hoes,
rape because of our clothes
We belong in the kitchen
is all patriarchal fiction.
I cease to believe
these things that stings the ear
are here because of genetic makeup.
They’re here to instill fear
in women to squeeze the lemon
of oppression
so dry that she can’t try to make lemonade.

Women got names and faces,

hail from different places,

are of different races,

got minds and thoughts,

while taking these shots

of oppression, so
Don’t pretend it don’t offend
the women who fought and taught
her sisters to follow;
the women who believed and perceived
themselves as more than chores;
women who explored equality
and rejected inferiority.
I rap as I sit on the lap of Father America.
I cheer as I hear the silence standing up, but then
I rage as the man cages with pages filled with “lesbian.”
Women of the West, we need to protest
the mess they call normativity;
We got to show that we know we got
more than a big booty to flaunt.
Man-hater is not what we gather;
equality is what we’re after cause
We can Rome without Caesar
with leisure in knowing
and showing that we cannot be silenced
that is financed by patriarchs cause
feminism ain’t dead, it’s just unsaid.

Appreciation

2010-08-06T16:52:00.001-05:00

Appreciation

The sky is
   so bright
   and the sun is hitting it just right;
The blue is so distinct
   that it’s an instinct
   to stare at its elegance;
The different shades weaving,
   so calming
   like paints colliding,
   yet streaming
   like water.
The right amount of moisture
   in the small, strewn clouds
   with shrouds
   of pearls.
The blanket feels the outside walls
   and intimately crawls
   over my eyes.
So far, so close
   and yet you chose
   to shut
   your eyes.

Trying to Turn On a Lamp with the Bulb Burnt Out: Obstacles & Overcoming

2010-08-06T15:36:00.002-05:00

Trying to Turn On a Lamp with the Bulb Burnt Out: Obstacles & Overcoming

the light flickers and sparks in short bursts

until it doesn't anymore

and remains broken.

but unless you change the bulb,

you won't have light again.

untitled

2010-08-06T15:27:00.004-05:00

untitled

I almost fell in love with a guy once.

I was on the edge of the cliff:

My toes were gripping,

My arms spread out;

I could feel the wind coaxing me to leap.

it was done before life had a chance.

Longing

2010-08-06T15:06:00.007-05:00

Longing

the words you said

the kisses you gave

the embraces I'll never forget

the laughs that echoed that parked car

                      I.

I can't put them into a jar
    close the lid tight
    wrap around it
    or
      drink it, inject it
      open the lid and let the contents
      soak into our skin.
I can't make it come true again.

                      I.1

Truth cannot be explained through
the biology of emotion.

II.

Do you ever think of me?
Do you ever miss me?
Does your body ever ache for mine?

untitled

2010-08-06T15:02:00.002-05:00

untitled

i lay beside you

place my hand on your nape

i press and move to your shoulder blades

your skin is as smooth as its color

going down your spine

placing my palm on the small of your back

i glide to your hip

move back up

feel the muscle of your arm

the touch of your flesh makes me sigh

makes me want more

your pleasurable exhale

warms my shoulder

tingles me

to satisfy you more

you turn your body to mine

and we sink

untitled

2010-08-06T14:49:00.005-05:00

This poem was published in the Sagebrush Literary Review Spring 2009 edition.

untitled

the flag holds and squeezes her

until she can't breathe.

the symbol of hardships and dreams and prejudice

and other deep words;

what a tiring life it must be.

red and white and blue swallow her

as she weeps over the fantasy of the land of the free

weeps for the ones dead

the ones struggling for equality

the ones oppressed

the flag taunts her as it

strangles the arteries of her heart

the bombs bursting in air long ago---vanished.

forgotten.

her voice is drowned by the chief drum.

the flag teases and provokes that there is always

someday,

yet she continues to battle,

fighting the perilous fight.

October Forest

2010-08-06T14:41:00.002-05:00

This is a poem that I wrote in the fall of 2008 and was published in the Sagebrush Literary Review Spring 2009 edition.

October Forest

Clear, crisp autumn morning.

The cold came in the night before

and the incumbents have already been prepared.

They are prepared every year.

The sunlight sparkling off the jade leaves,

the feathers of plants

is blanketed by fresh dew.

With every light breeze, they fly--

the dead ones lie on the earth

cracking and rustling with every step.

The ones that are still animate cling to themselves,

praying the wind doesn't take them away.

All the trees are huddled together

seemingly looking for warmth and comfort,

Their thick bodies and arms are unbothered,

too dense to feel the bite of cold,

even though they crowd next to each other

as if nature is embracing them like children.

The morning sun swiftly peeks its face

between the branches and leaves

seeing, wondering, hoping that

everyone is still there.

On the Road to the Sea - Charlotte Mew

2009-10-11T16:52:00.003-05:00

I'm analyzing this poem for a class and I really like it. Thought I would share :]. (I tried to put the spacing, but it isn't posting it as such. Nothing much I can do about it.. oh well.)

On the Road to the Sea
by Charlotte Mew

We passed each other, turned and stopped for half an hour, then went our
way,
I who make other women smile did not make you--
But no man can move mountains in a day.
So this hard thing is yet to do.

But first I want your life:--before I die I want to see
The world that lies behind the strangeness of your eyes,
There is nothing gay or green there for my gathering, it may be,
Yet on brown fields there lies
A haunting purple bloom: is there not something in grey skies
And in grey sea?
I want what world there is behind your eyes.
I want your life and you will not give it me.

Now, if I look, I see you walking down the years,
Young, and through August fields--a face, a thought, a swinging dream
perched on a stile--;
I would have liked (so vile we are!) to have taught you tears
But most to have made you smile.

To-day is not enough or yesterday: God sees it all--
Your length on sunny lawns, the wakeful rainy nights--; tell me--(how
vain to ask), but it is not a question--just a call--;
Show me then, only your notched inches climbing up the garden wall,
I like you best when you were small.

Is this a stupid thing to say
Not having spent with you one day?
No matter; I shall never touch your hair
Or hear the little tick behind your breast,
Still it is there,
And as a flying bird
Brushes the branches where it may not rest
I have brushed your hand and heard
The child in you: I like that best.

So small, so dark, so sweet; and were you also then too grave and wise?
Always I think. Then put your far off little hand in mine;--Oh! let it
rest;
I will not stare into the early world beyond the opening eyes,
Or vex or scare what I love best.

But I want your life before mine bleeds away--
Here--not in heavenly hereafters--soon,--
I want your smile this very afternoon,
(The last of all my vices, pleasant people used to say,
I wanted and I sometimes got--the Moon!)

You know, at dusk, the last bird's cry,
And round the house the flap of the bat's low flight,
Trees that go black against the sky
And then--how soon the night!

No shadow of you on any bright road again,
And at the darkening end of this--what voice? whose kiss? As if you'd say!
It is not I who have walked with you, it will not be I who take away
Peace, peace, my little handful of the gleaner's grain
From your reaped fields at the shut of day.

Peace! Would you not rather die
Reeling,--with all the cannons at your ear?
So, at least, would I,
And I may not be here
To-night, to-morrow morning or next year.
Still I will let you keep your life a little while,
See dear?
I have made you smile.

Pet Peeve

2009-07-13T21:26:00.001-05:00

One of my pet peeves: people who waste electricity.

One Part of American Society

2009-07-11T03:12:00.003-05:00

NOTE: Here is another example of how America's society is about pleasure.

We all know that tobacco kills millions of people a year. We, the general public, know the dangers and health effects it can cause. However, at the same token, these two characteristics also belong to alcohol: both tobacco and alcohol are required to place a label on their products stating many of the health risks each comprise.

Here is the difference: television commercials. We all know about the Truth campaign. Truth puts out commercials about the "truth" on tobacco, nicotine, and the tobacco company. Television commercials about alcohol do not provide the general public with the health risks drinking alcohol entails, but rather everyone having a good time. The only thing they warn the public in alcohol commercials is the consequences of drunk driving, by placing "Please Drink Responsibly" in the last few seconds.

Why is this? Some may say it is because tobacco is "worse" than alcohol. However, they can both kill you, and I don't know of anything that is "worse" than death. It is because alcohol outputs more pleasure than tobacco does. What is so great about smoking a cigarette anyway? You don't get drunk. You don't act stupid with your friends. You don't build up confidence, because we all know that alcohol is liquid courage. Because pleasure is such a focused part of American society, the media would subconsciously (or maybe consciously, but let's just give them the benefit of the doubt) relay the overall belief that tobacco is "worse" than alcohol to the public. In addition, that is why we would rather drink than smoke: because there is more pleasure in drinking than in smoking.

This was another example of how America's society is about pleasure. There are many other aspects to this society that I have concluded with, and this particular one was about pleasure. Just an example. Had to write about it lol.

Quote of the Day

2009-06-19T00:05:00.000-05:00

"Cake is good, but you cannot have sex with cake." -Fez, That 70s Show