Poetry

Vegas photos, a dose of nostalgia, and a poem.

I should've blogged about my sister weekend in Vegas, but life got busy, and whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right? So instead of bombarding you with pictures, I picked out my favorites (most from just the first night). If you're curious, we did XS Friday, Rehab pool party Saturday, Omnia that night, and Sunday was spent sinning with food.


Saw Zedd. Highlight of the trip!



My partner in crime.


After a few busy weeks, life is finally starting to slow down just in time for summer. Since I've been taking a break from writing after completing my first draft, I've had the time to finally watch Season Two of 'The Paradise' and if you can believe it, went through my entire e-mail box from college. I had 7,600 e-mails since I last checked it! I cleaned it up and started archiving old creative writing assignments and papers just because I think it'll come in handy for story ideas. Not to mention, just knowing I have that bulk of work really makes me elated at how I've evolved as a writer. It's just really amazing when you think about all the work it took to get that piece of parchment (degree). Lab reports, research papers, science papers, theoretical papers, critical essays, and creative assignments. I just love it. It's made me so nostalgic for school.

Funny how at the time I just wanted it to be over and done with and now I find myself wishing I could go back. Where has the time gone?

Stepping away from the cubicle the other day waiting in the Starbuck's line I jotted down a quick poem about it on my phone:

A strange longing
of hazelnut coffee cups and freshly mowed lawns.
Conversations at picnic tables
with minds that can read my own.
Pressed notebooks with ink stains.
Stacks of books with too many owners.

I feel brave, new, scared, but learning
with every page that I'm turning.

In the moment it feels like forever;
an impasse from reality,
but it is the reality I miss.
Along with the hazelnut coffee,
biking under arches of trees,
as the sunlight beams on me.

I know this place, I know them all,
even when I don't.
But a strange pull, and big dreams,
pull us all together.
That I wonder where we've all ended up.

When love turns ugly.

Don't waste your breath explaining,
when it only falls on dead ears.
Don't waste any emotions feeling,
for no one will even care

the lament coming from your chest
the tears pooling around your eyes,
each an every stabbing wound
bringing truth to all the lies.

Love is a romanticized idea,
never a universal truth.
Just love, sex, and conquest-
activities for the uncouth.

And as another day passes
more stoic will you become;
because those that do not feel,
will never come undone.

'Guess you can say I'm bitter.
'Guess you can say I'm cruel.
One thing that I am not?
A love sick romantic fool.

"Recoverable"

I was a december evening,
dark and cold
with my sunlight fading.

with a haunted heart
i crawled into my mind
& built up a world,
where i could shine

and i felt oh, so, untouchable
and no one could take it away;
and i felt all so knowable
spread my wings and fly away.

With an april morning
damp but warm
with the dew drops sparkling
a moment reborn.

i was changing
my mind rearranging,
all the good & the bad
either way
nothing ever lasts

but i felt oh, so, unbreakable
though it all seemed like child's play;
still i felt oh, so, capable
to wake up and get on my way.

"My Cares of Vain Worth"

I used to determine my worth by pounds
and only on an inverse scale.
I counted this and that and ran and ran
but only to hopelessly fail.
I should have been smarter
and dismissed outward beauty,
but all I could think was
how do they really see me?

It is vain, I know, to care
of others' thoughts--
physically nothing
in the mind they get lost.
But once they are spoken
behind open and closed doors
they unearth pain
never know, nor felt before.

If only we were nicer,
I wouldn't have to care
about my nails, clothes,
and most of all, my hair.
So we  put on different looks
hoping to find one that works,
that takes away our doubts
and the thoughts of others that lurk
behind their plastered smiles
and their forced pleasantries
if only I could wipe it off
and be comfortable in me.

"Indefinitely"

Desperation siezes me
and it seems like an eternity,
as I wait and wait
for a muse.

But do not mistake me
I am not dependent on mere
                             W H I M S
I am just afraid
of the light in my head that grows
                                             d      i    m     .

Will it leave and be gone forever?
for hopes and dreams, it will sever

this darkness of cruel reality--
it laughs,
it taunts,
it picks on me.

So what is the point
when it is out of our control?
when we've slaved on words
and bared our soul.

it becomes our obsession
an imaginative affair--
an abstract depiction
of our current cares--

Yet the words keep us enamored
like a siren at sea.
It pulls us in--indefinitely.

Thoughts during my first experience of kava...

There's a whisper.
There's a whisper,
all but over there.
It's the intangible wind
that combs through your hair.

There's a laugh
and a smile,
from a love long forgot.
He's alone and lost,
and worst of all
an afterthought.

There's a sigh
and a cry
for those who are in pain.
The battle is endless,
and their shadows remain.

But there's hope,
there is love,
a joy no one can describe.
It's that certain feeling
you wished for
for your whole,
life.
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