Defilement

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You chip away at me,

hoping to sculpt a masterpiece,

you scrape away my dreams

filling my cracks and seams,

with your artistic vision.

You mold me until it hurts.

Pushing and pulling,

bending and breaking,

twisting and tearing,

Rubbing raw my skin

with your ruthless words

Til I am polished to your liking.

Alcohol-

Removes-

my shellac skirt.

Your white paint-

Forced-

on a collectible piece.

After.

The fragments of your

scrap pile.

The Lillies

You plucked each petal,

and bruised each stem.

You wanted each and every one of them.

The sepals were torn off,

and thrown in disarray.

Their blooms misshaped,

and scattered away.

Five pink lilies, sisters of spring.

The flowers left wilted,

No joy could they bring.

Oh, the horror on everyone’s face!

Found near their mother, the shattered vase.

Dripping onto their carpet,

their perfume left a stain.

Life without the Lillies—

Which culprit to blame?

Hush

My blood cascades beneath

my skin—hush, as the candles flicker.

Oh, it draws you in.

Shadows on our bare—

But your blood replies, shallow breath,

touching—

my velvety, skin—it whispers, hush.

The flame licks the cherry blossom lips.

Its taste and fragrance—a head rush.

Hush.

Pleasure with your eyes, painting

slow, long, and deep—

The wave, upon wave,

my cries.

You tell me teasingly,

hush.

Consuming our shared blood

a fire breathes.

Burning the roots of the family tree.

Imagination

The six string guitar swims in a sea

between the earth and sky. Horizon beams

projected out of my head.

A layer upon another. The paint still,

in the light’s movement.

The abstract concrete takes over

the uncontrolled. Falling in an abyss

of tantalizing emblems, that marks

infinitesimal particles

surrounding, swelling.

Drowning in uncertainty.

(Three times a day for five days assignment)

The thrum of the world’s outside my window, shades the sweet melody of the bird’s narratives.

But one mile into my thoughts, and my knees go weak.

Exhausted by the categorical nature.

Losing out to make a record,

Chimes the aggravation.

Red, red, red.

Wisps of air

Itching and burning—stings

like a film strip.

One foot in front of the other.

Free.

Eleven hours of grey,

And the class crosses over.

A square of us, talk of trips.

Cold and distorted.

The Kiss (Poetic Line Assignment)

The brush of the wind, a sweet ecstasy.

A sunrise’s caress, soft and warm.

It hums beneath my skin,

waiting to blossom and fly in the breeze.

Yearning for time and this endless moment.

A song of white fire, that tastes like rain;

the symphony of a spectrum of colors

becomes a whirlwind of uncontrollable desire.

Fantastical dreams that should not exist;

the colliding of midnight stars, along the twilight’s horizon.

Eli's Words (Conversation Assignment)

Wait.

You don’t really care about me.

Nothing.

Super bright light.

Blanking out.

You’ll be fine.

Drowsy.

Let it flow,

free as a bird.

Thanks.

Sweet enough.

Self-conscious,

Shy and soft spoken.

No, too sweet.

Stay true.

Sorry joy to yourself,

with interesting stories to tell.

I’m taking a while.

The Wanderer (Craft Assignment)

As the sun braves the world,

he smiles on.

With an effortless grace,

he roams the day

like a soft summer breeze

just sweeping through.

He is a mystery.

He is a wanderer.

His spoken words are rare-

a rare beauty.

The sun rises,

so he smiles.

Casually walking

throughout the day,

like a light summer breeze

that blows through.

He wanders around,

making him a mystery.

He barely talks;

But when he does,

it’s nice.

Dream Lake (Sound Poem)

Sweet dreams, while deep in sleep,

throughout the night through twinkling lights.

She made her way to see the lake,

to play the same games with her old school mate.

He had bright beautiful blue eyes,

Oh, how he loved to hide from her.

In green fields or in trash of peach peels,

in the treetops or the rooftops.

She could not find him, she could not see,

even though he buzzed and buzzed like a bee.

Under the Bed (Triggering Poem)

At the corner, sat a lavender box.

Photographs spilled over the rim.

A boy with freckles splattered across his cheeks

stared out of the picture with a wide grin.

The silver box springs under the bed,

all in all perfectly spaced,

were in the ready position

against the reddish rug they faced.

Strands of blonde and brown hair

were hung and danced in between.

The glittering dust seemed to sleep

sprinkling the realm as they dreamed.

The cream-colored sheet of spectators

surrounded and watched all around.

As the dime-sized long-legged spider,

descended gracefully to the carpeted ground,

Held only by a twinkling thread,

it commanded attention

by everything under the bed.

Someone I Will Meet

Music humming beneath my skin.
The sun's gentle push causes me to open my eyes,
as life blooms with fragrances of daytime dreams,
and pure love that lights up the night.
I wander with direction,
into the mind of someone I've never met,
so that one day we can learn to love with no regrets.
We'll fill each other's broken hearts,
turning us again into believers,
and you'll tell all your friends,
that you'll never leave her.

And I'll tell mine that your the one,
And so we'll kiss beneath the setting sun,
Til the melody of life and love is done.

A Sunday Morning.

Listening to "Too Close" by Alex Clare and drinking coffee at Starbuck's with my computer in front of me prompts me to update my blog instead of starting on my paper.

Yesterday, I finished writing in my sixteenth journal. Comparing this weekend to last weekend, I'm glad my mood is better. I think I was just having a moment of high stress. I just hate the fact that their are so many things in life that are out of our control that it makes me wonder if I have any free will at all. If it is my life, shouldn't I be the one controlling it and deciding what path I take? Yes, in life we do get some choices, but we can't necessarily choose the outcome. We are so restricted by things like money, the past, and society that it holds us back from actually living. Obviously, you can tell I have control issues (something I'm constantly working on). But sometimes when I'm going through the motions of the day, I catch myself and think, "Is this really something I want to be doing?". We always say live in the moment, but are we actually doing that? Each moment goes by and we dismiss it or we aren't aware of it; thus, if we aren't aware of it, are we really living? Maybe this is too abstract, but it's embedded into the back of my mind. Maybe, it's the "YOLO" craze lately that's infected my subconscious. I don't know. I just think too much.

And I should probably put my thinking to use for my paper (although it's certainly something I don't want to do).

Wishing you all a good Sunday!
-Miss M

Reason #9: Jars

This one may seem a bit weird, but I love jars. After using them for one day, they have made my life considerably easier; and it's those little things in life that we don't necessarily notice, but deserves some thanks (even if it is an inanimate object). Move over tupperware, jars have come to steal your thunder!

For breakfast I made overnight oats with strawberries and placed them in fridge along with a jar of coffee. When I woke up, I just quickly stuffed them in my backpack and went to class. Awesome for on the go. Now you're probably thinking, "Well, you can do that with tupperware." Yes, although that is true, I like the fact that I can make individual servings of liquids (such as coffee, tea, etc.) and grab them whenever I want them. Better yet, I can make them cold, and beat the heat. These 8oz on the go servings are perfect when I want them. Plus, drinking liquids from tupperware is silly, and my thermos is pretty clunky carrying it all day with Summer coming upon us; cold drinks are what I need.

And their are even more possibilities on the horizon, like yogurt parfaits, fruit salads, green smoothies, sweet/herbal teas, and etc!

You have to admit, eating/drinking out of a cute jar is just way better than tupperware :]

Trying to breathe.

It happened last night when I tried to fall asleep. The wave of stress fell upon me and sat on my chest, making it so hard to breathe. I tried tossing and turning, only to find that their is no escape, no matter which direction I turn.

Itching to tear this skin as it crushes me under the weight of all this pressure. Soon I will be a miniscule particle in the world that no one will ever miss.

What will my life amount to? How should it be measured? By these endless to-do lists? The breaths I take despite my emotional scars that deface me? By my incomplete thoughts, stories, and poems?

Ashamed by my behavior, yet unable to control it. A damaged complex.

I walk into a cafe, a place I have never been. French roast coffee for comfort as I sit with myself and tell her, "Breathe."

Happy Thursday!

Avoiding my hw, by playing with photobooth on my macbook pro. I'm sure I'm not the only one who does this... right?

Can't wait to be done with work tomorrow morning, I want the weekend! Five openings in a row was rough! But I gotta save up for VEGAS :] Five more weeks!

This will be the best summer everrrrrrr!

Reason #8: Teachers

It was my Honors English Teacher of my Junior year of high school, Ms. Davis, who said that I should major in English, and it was her class that made me fall in love with the subject.

My first fiction workshop I took at Davis was with Julia Jackson. This is her last quarter at Davis, soon she'll be receiving her MA in Creative Writing. She's such a wonderful person. I kinda wanna be like her in a few years.

This quarter, my poetry fiction professor is Greg Glazner. Yesterday, some classmates and I went to his reading for his new book he also performed some songs he wrote. I was seriously impressed.

I never wanted to be a teacher, but seeing how some teachers have made an impact on me, makes me think that I shouldn't rule it out completely.

A Drop in the Ocean-Ron Pope (Lyrics)

[Sometimes listening to a familiar song can bring back a waterfall of memories. The power of music strikes your heart like a chord. Here's a song that did that to me today. -Miss M]

A drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my heaven.

I don't wanna waste the weekend,
If you don't love me, pretend
A few more hours, then it's time to go.
And as my train rolls down the East coast,
I wonder how you keep warm.
It's too late to cry, too broken to move on.

Still I can't let you be,
Most nights I hardly sleep.
Don't see what you don't need, from me.

Just a drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my heaven.

Misplaced trust and old friends,
Never counting the regrets,
By the grace of God, I do not rest at all.
and New England as the leaves change;
The last excuse that I'll claim,
I was a boy who loved a woman like a little girl.

Still I can't let you be,
Most nights I hardly sleep,
Don't see what you don't need, from me.

Just a drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my

Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore no, no
Heaven doesn't seem far away.
Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore no, no
Heaven doesn't seem far away.

nooo
nooo

A drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my heaven.
You are my heaven

Reason #7: Mothers

One think to always be thankful for are Mothers. I cannot even put into words everything my mom is to me. My hero and my savior. If only she knew just how much I loved her. I just hate the fact our relationship isn't as close as I would like it to be.

The blame lies upon me.
I'm unable to communicate through our language and I'm not the daughter everyone hoped me to be.

I saw her for about five minutes today.

I decided not to go to the family dinner tonight. It may seem selfish not to go, but I think my presence there would just bring everything and everyone down. I don't want to ruin the holiday for her nor the rest of my family. Tonight, everything would be better if I did not exist, so I took myself out of the equation.

I hope my phone call and my unconditional love for her will suffice. Because that's all I have left of me.

Reason #6: The New and Old Relationships

Relationships must be reciprocated in order to form a long lasting bond. Therefore, those involved in the relationship both have to want it. That goes for all types of relationships: familial, friends, romantic, work, etc.

Growing up, you make a lot of different types of relationships, but you also lose some too. You learn to trust and at the same time you learn that people can betray you. Others can love you, while some break your heart. And the rest simply come and go. Nonetheless, all of the people that enter and exit your life make an impact on you.

"A Certain Lady" by Dorothy Parker

I'm currently working on a short paper about this poem. I decided to post it on my blog, because I'm sure everyone can relate.

A Certain Lady

Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head,
And drink your rushing words with eager lips,
And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red,
And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips.
When you rehearse your list of loves to me,
Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed.
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see
The thousand little deaths my heart has died.
And you believe, so well I know my part,
That I am gay as morning, light as snow,
And all the straining things within my heart
You'll never know.

Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet,
And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, --
Of ladies delicately indiscreet,
Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things.
And you are pleased with me, and strive anew
To sing me sagas of your late delights.
Thus do you want me -- marveling, gay, and true,
Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights.
And when, in search of novelty, you stray,
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go ....
And what goes on, my love, while you're away,
You'll never know.

When it ends...

You finish reading a book and put it to the side, only to pick up another on your bedside table. Different names, but the same characters. Different titles, but the same stories. You run a mile, to simply run another. And another, until you've finished a half-marathon; but only to drive home to shower then sleep. When you wake up, you linger awhile longer in bed, wondering if this is the day.

The day everything changes. The day your career begins. The day you meet someone who understands what you're going through. The day you fall in love. The day where it all ends.

You throw your blankets to the side, get up, get dressed, and push away the thoughts in your mind that hang like a spider's forgotten web. The thoughts about your stagnant life, because that's all you've known. So why think of the day where it changes?

Stasis is better right?

Better than the nights you've spent hearing the screams down the hallway. Better than the days that were all lies. Better than the moments spent believing in broken promises.

You pick up another book, but you don't finish it. You place it in an empty box. The books unread accumulate. You tape the box, and grab another. And another, until you're in a room filled with boxes. You run without measuring the distance. You run until it's too hard to breathe. Then you walk home, gasping for air. You collapse into bed, too tired to shower, but eager to fall into another reality. When you wake up, you linger awhile in bed, and decide that this is the day.

The day everything changes. The day you start living again. The day where stasis ends.

You make your bed and fold your blankets, noticing what a difference it makes to the appearance of your room. You get dressed, make your favorite breakfast, and push away all of the yesterdays like they were all a distant memory. You're tired of the stagnant life, because that's all you've ever known. Might as well do something new.

Living is better right?

Better than the nights spent alone reading. Better than the days running to pass the time. Better than the moments spent thinking of the past.

You get into your car and drive. Drive towards your career. Drive towards someone. Drive towards love. Drive towards this changing day.

Reason #6: Education, Creative Writing, and James Franco

I am literally shaking right now. Maybe it’s from having four cups of coffee (when I usually just have one or two a day) or maybe I’m having an epiphany. My mind is racing, that I can’t keep track of all of my thoughts. I’m sure that it will show in this post, since this won’t have any logical order. It’ll just be pure thought. Stream of consciousness? Probably so. Virgina Woolf, it seems you have rubbed off on me. I can’t get out of my head it seems.

Another reason to live? Education. Doing something/majoring in something you love. I know I complain a lot about school. I want to be done with it like all of my friends who are just a year older than me (if I was only born one year sooner!!!!), but I’m not. I should take advantage of my last year and make the most of it. I had a midterm today about 20^th century writers and theory; after studying about all these dead writers, I realized I wanted to be one of them. Not dead, obviously. But a writer who matters. Who did something. Was a part of something. Anything. I always say I HOPE to be a writer, never having faith in myself or my abilities; but today I thought to myself, I WILL be a writer. I may not be the best, but damn I have a story to tell, and someone’s going to want to listen. I will be published, and if someone is moved by what I wrote, then that is success to me. That’s a life lived if I made someone’s life a little bit better by my words.

This week I’ve been constantly thinking about the future. Daydreaming and hoping. Well that’s enough of that, I’m gonna make it into a reality. Just you wait. For a while I wondered if I could really do it, write all my life… I thought of the long process of writing and editing, all the heartbreak that I would endure being rejected… but yes, I want it. All of that. The heartbreak, long hours of writes and rewrites. Words are eternal. I’m gonna get my words down.

I’ll have my own studio and library to create my books with big open windows… Yeah, I will.

So what brought this on? Well I’ve been obsessed with James Franco. Like seriously obsessed. My role models have always been my family: my mom and my sisters for all their strength and support; but now that I have committed myself wholeheartedly to writing, I had the urge to find a role model for my career. Which is…. JAMES FRANCO. He seriously does everything. I want to do that too. I won’t limit myself to just writing. I’ll do it all. Screen writing, directing, art. I admire his passion for education. It reminds me that I am lucky to learn. The grade doesn’t matter, only the knowledge that I get from the class. I don’t need a 4.0 GPA to write. I need to live life in order to write.  I want to and I am going to live life. I'll be the female version of James Franco (without the acting part).

One day James Franco, we’ll have coffee and discuss books, movies, music, literature, everything. We will be talked about when we die. We’ll make an impact. 

I love my major. Seriously. Writers are so cool and interesting, not to mention we’re just so weird in an awesome way.

I think of all the people I’ve met in class this past year and I realized… We are the next generation. Let’s fuck shit up (in a good way) and change the world. I may never see these people again, but knowing them for a little bit has changed my life. I want to remember everyone. Like Nich, one of the US bank protesters who gave me a hug right after we met (no one does that much anymore, I wish people did; and he totally looked like Will from Parachute), Olivia who I met this quarter in Telemark (having a good conversation, telling me about the senior thesis, and about herself), even the guy Orion who’s in all of my classes (who I find pretty intriguing), and everyone in my workshop class, like Summer, Ceaser, Ted, Lindsey, and Katie (to just name a few). Best of luck to all of us.

Now the most important thing: I’ve finally found a story idea for my first book. Something that I will commit to (not like all my other stories where I write a few pages and quit). The whole story idea came to me today in bits and pieces as I was running during my workout and walking to the ARC for a work meeting. I need a story board STAT!!!!

Life is amazing. And no, I’m not on drugs right now. :]