Purgatory

The money is gone

And you never came

Too hot for the sun

On the northwest side

Between heaven and hell

Your splendor,

Blatantly lied,

Asleep in sadness

And attempted murder

Wipe the crusts from your eyes,

Curly-haired girl

And remaining,

In grief

And complaining

As I write to remember

Your sensitive side

And just one more mystery

inside of your shadow

Blue Poisons

My soul cries without the burning embers of your touch

I am naked, disarmed, without shelter

And with dreams of a humble smile

And to fear away from a shallow touch

Since craving your naked skin, warm body

Eyes so inviting, loving, sensitive touch

Years of dreams, finally coming to fruition

And blue poisons ruining forever

Living a terrible reality of manic indefiance

Growing vastly, running quickly to the sober light

Enduring rivers that flow at the thought of you

And tears that only appear in the dark of night

Since when do I plead for an emotional touch

I can’t withstand this grueling hour of invalidity

I will close my eyes and hear phrases, unused

And conjure spells in the back of my mind

I can’t bear to be without the sight of you

The uniqueness of your eyes and the warmth of your kiss

Your awaiting hands reaching for mine

And I pray for this moment, just a moment to exist

To show you my inner-strengths, I can achieve

But is there a point; is there shame in this?

What of the Promised Land we share in a kiss

Awaiting a kingdom, praying to exist

Or to drown in a river, an endless forever

A soul-less determination and a defining silence

A poison I will so happily die of

And a forever good-bye that’s worth a million lives

Come home to me.

Old Poetry: Without the Night

So I found some old poetry on my old laptop. I've decided to share, no matter how much anxiety it gives me. And it gives me great anxiety to share my writing sometimes. But I've learned from my many literary heroes. Not guts, no glory, right?

Without the Night

We’re all on the chopping block

But I’d rather be on yours

I’d rather be naked

Then covered in mud from his backyard

I try to resist temptation

But nothing’s left to be done

So I go my own way

And solitude follows

And I know I’m not a saint

I’ve sinned among the sinners

I’ve got it bad this time

And I just can’t shake it

When do we learn to fight?

When do we learn to heal?

Why is this so hard and disgusting

At the same time, appealing?

I will never trust

Though I have never lied

And the thought of lying next to you

Takes my breath

I hold it inside

The night overcomes us

And tragedy has fallen to light

This is a fucking nightmare

Although without the night.

Poem: One Day I Will Disagree With You

One day I will disagree with you
But not in the way that you think
And it will be huge
And I'll just blame you
And I don't care what you think
I'll cry and scream
If you know what I mean
You'll yell and laugh and call me a drama queen
I'll call your mom and tell her about you
And she'll be disappointed and scream at you too
But in the end
You know I'll die for you
But not in the way you want me to.

Poem: "Excuses for Me"

I'm just over here, sad
Lying about
Feeling lousy
With a pout
Call me a doctor
He'll just prescribe sun
And I will still choose
To lay about
With a frown
I'm one of the lucky
I'm one of the few
I'm all over smart
But I'm still blue
I revel in the drama
Fantastically strewn
Just lounging about
Here in my room.

Never Me (new poem)

I had on nothing that day

But wearing my heart on my sleeve

And trying my best

Not to think

Emotionless and pale

With grand ideas

You comforted me

And said without words

Things I longed to hear

And tearing down walls

All these walls of fear

I boast about things

But never about love

Trying to hide the disregard

And vulgar phrases

That I only think

No one wants to hear

The poor weep

I follow my shadow

It never follows me

Do I dare even speak?

When nowadays everyone comes clean

But never me

Never ending

Never me.

More Than Halfway There

So this is getting serious...I feel like I'm more than halfway there...and I should be documenting this more! It's been such a struggle, all this time trying to figure out what I need to be doing and where do I fit in and who am I and all of those other crazy cliche's that you hear in the beginning of coming-of-age films, as a narration/voice-over by the main character. I'm too old for the narration/voice-over movie...right? Unless it's about Drew Barrymore going back to high school and pretending she's not over 30. That was a coming-of-age film, right? "Never Been Kissed"...that's the title!

Anyway, I have a penchant for rambling. Let me get down to the point. I want to be a Hollywood writer. I want to write sitcoms and films. I want to be constantly working. I haven't done much of anything but write my entire life! I remember staying up late at night, working on a little film I entitled "Falling". I had this old dusty busted computer that I had Microsoft Word on and I would sit there in my room, with the door locked, and just write and write. I remember my friends calling me on three-way and me tuning them out because I was so engrossed in the dialogue I was writing. I eventually retitled the film "Words to a Page" and entered it into a screenplay competition. It didn't win, but I think I should re-enter it this year. Who knows? You may see it on the big screen next year!

I just want to prepare myself. I want to be a better writer. I didn't attend Harvard or the Tisch School of the Arts. I didn't even finish at Columbia College...I need to educate myself. I need to go back and read the great works. I need Ernest Hemingway...that's a writer I haven't touched yet. I have read a lot of great books over the years, and read lots of great poetry, but I think I'll make a list of the greats I haven't touched upon yet.

Meanwhile, for inspiration, I will go back to Arthur Rimbaud and Robert Frost...my first loves, who inspired my poetry as a child. I should also re-read "The Outsiders". And I had an epiphany that there are several major Shakespeare plays I never read! I've read "Hamlet" and "Romeo and Juliet"...that's it! So in between working on my writing portfolio and challenging myself to write on a variety of topics, not just my silly problems and screwed-up life, I'm going to read about other people's silly problems and screwed-up lives...fictional or not. I'm going to Amazon to fill up my Kindle!

Later lovelies!


...The Tempest. I read The Tempest freshman year of college. Just had to add that. 3 of the 50,000 plays* Shakespeare wrote!


*May be an inaccurate amount of plays that Shakespeare wrote.

An Obsession with Words...and Arthur Rimbaud

I once saw a film called "Total Eclipse", around the time I was obsessed with Leonardo DiCaprio (and I still might be...who are you to judge, huh?)...nevertheless, I had to see every film he was ever in at the time. So I stayed up late one night, as a teen, and watched the film on cable. It changed my life. It was panned by critics, but it changed my life. After seeing the tortured life of this gifted poet played out on screen by this amazingly talented actor, I started writing poetry, and my life became more about Arthur Rimbaud than of Leonardo Dicaprio. He inspired songs and poetry and love in me that I did not know existed. Rimbaud made me realize that words that come from you can change you. And there are days where I am obsessed with certain words and feel the need to get them out and spend hours writing. It's because of Rimbaud, probably my greatest poetic inspiration...

The poem that changed the way I write and inspired my song "Words to a Page" and my poem "My Cracked Boots"...

My Bohemia (Fantasy)

And so I went, hands thrust in torn pockets.

My coat was more idea than fact.

Beneath the sky – my Muse, my liege- I went;

Oh my what dreams of splendid loves I had!

My one and only trousers were hugely holed

Starry-eyed Tom Thumb, I strewed my path

With verse. I laid my head at Great Bear Inn

My stars swished softly in the sky

And, seated on roadsides, I heard them

On lovely evenings in September, feeling dew

Drop on my face, like invigorating wine;

And rhyming verse among the phantom shadows,

I harp on the laces of  my wounded boots,

One foot by my heart.