Academia

Composed 1/28/16
Description: Playing devil’s advocate here a bit with this.

We stare out the sun-stained windows
As the man, masqueraded, lilts lofty lovelies
About human strength and power
Possibilities
Of futures where we thrive instead of survive
We should be striving
For positivity!
But we turn dazed, daydreamed eyes
To harsh white and artificial light
Of our present circumstance
And our smiling savior speaks
He says
The man is winning
So play along
Take this book
Learn to tear a man down
That’s the only way you’ll live in this town
So we play
For days and months and years
And
Nothing changes
Just our words
Scream out into the night

Getting Shocked

Composed 1/19/16
Description: n/a

A voice
Distantly
Humming out between lips
Invisible and soft though sharp like I knew
Crackling with static as it zaps into
Wires and circuits and tiny synapses
In milliseconds striking
Like an arrow through
The heart
It surges with electricity
It steals my voice
It sets fire to my blood and burns throughout
But like a shock it’s gone in a moment
Leaving me
Annoyed

My Lips Fall Silent

Composed 1/11/16
Description: A very journalistic entry today. School begins tomorrow, but I feel as if the odds are not in my favor… 

my lips fall silent as
the worries bubble up
they dance on my tongue but must be swallowed
so they clog my throat and
my lips fall silent as I choke
on the thought of fresh snowflakes
falling on the morning drive
over ice
piling up and white and high
and if I live I am thrown into
unknown setups and time consumers
hours of work and broken pencils, stubbed erasers,
vague directions, and yearning, printers whirring
worthy learning but new and the drive and
my lips fall silent because
they stole me out of my comfort zone so
I am forced to roam in the cold and snow
while suffering from an ill-timed sickness
that bleeds me dry more swiftly than my mind
buzzing with thoughts that slide like the ice of
which I fret and stutter like my Internet
and are covered, muted by frigid white
that bites like change and money spent
on endless papers and graded judgement and
my lips fall silent

so many thoughts
where will they land?
I guess on the page
that’s the only place they can

Made of Ice

Composed 1/5/16
Description: An odd wish, I suppose.

I wish I was a girl of ice
So I could fearlessly
Walk out in the ruthless cold
And stroll among the flurries

I see my empty eyes
Reflective like the shallow lakes
As the wind grasps my dress and blows
A distant, lonely, lovely sound

As the world glitters and rests
I want to witness it
The beauty of a frozen night
Rawly, a girl made of ice

New Books

Composed 1/2/16
Description: For the Daily Prompt’s Write Here, Write Now prompt, I now write a post in present tense. Fittingly, a situation I find myself in presently.

I pick it up and turn the page
Eagerly!
The next the next!
Battles, love unwrap before me
From page to page
And scene to scene
So bittersweet
I yearn to know
But slowly now I try to go
I savor these last moments of ignorance
Such pleasure courses through me!
Such restraint I bear!
The excitement
My hands shake
It tears me apart!

From Within

Composed 1/2/16
Description: I like having prompts sometimes, especially when they speak to me. But other times I feel like this only just gets me writing. The things I really love I practically throw onto the page… I just wish I knew how to force up those strong emotions and thoughts at will!

Words can be snatched at random
From the air like fireflies
Put them in a jar
And they swim around in
A glowing paragraph

But what is a jar
Full of pretty words?

The subtext only speaks of death
The lights fade and fizzle
Ashes fall to the bottom
They are gone
Soon forgotten

Show me a field of fireflies
I am frozen
I want them to roam free
And explore the things that speak to me
Don’t force me with a net
To snatch at empty words
I will huddle away
And write of my own heart

Fire Eater

red_2_by_tosha_chan-d9iow63
Red 2 by Tosha-chan.

 

Composed 1/1/16
Description: Prompt from writeworld. Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture.

His fingers spread like growing vines
And touched her skin so pale and sweet
He felt the blood pump through her veins
Gentle thuds in steady beats

From each seam, each pore heat wafted off
An aura of delectability
It swam up each thin, arching stem
A fire forming internally

It crawled up his arms
Hung in his chest
A strangely lovely burning wheeze
He breathed hot smoke
His insides glowed
Shade hung from a grin, sharp and pleased

She fell limp and her skin felt cold
Silence within her too-still form
The spines retreated as a breath was taken
And the red hot man went strolling home