NU 203

Composed 3/25/16
Description: A rare prose piece from me. A description of a place in which I am forced to reside once a week for several hours…

It’s a hulking, ancient building amidst a concrete jungle. Today, gray – sky, air, rain. Inside, mud-spattered, dust accented patterned tile, arranged in ill-advised juxtaposition. The place is obviously old, without renovation since its original ribbon cutting, crafted by the wrinkled hands and bills of ancient cults of bald, spectacled men smoking cigars by the sparking fireplace. The endless faces of its patrons, a thousand eyes, stare, watch, smile blandly in their frames. Souls captured and sold – a warning, a premonition, a foreshadowing. Have they ever really left this place?

You turn and enter between gaps of cursed guardians. Perfectly square, dull tan and beige, the place boxes you in. A prison of monochrome uniformity. The metal chairs screech against the dull tile floor like demons clawing their way out of hell.

It is more a prison than any prison I know, giant concrete blocks and all. Only now the prison is a whitewashed reflection of high school nightmares, combining confinement with insecurity, awkwardness, and incurable boredom.

Not even windows give a peek into the outside world. Buzzing florescents coat the room in an aura of delusion. Reality vanishes in favor of a buttercream LSD trip. A power surge would send us scrambling into complete darkness. Not a shred of natural light filters through the cracks in slab. And the steaming heat, like the flames of hell, siphon away your desire to live, to go on…

The place sucks battery life even faster than it sucks out your soul. Technology dies rapidly as it reaches out for contact, any signal of hope, of life beyond these walls.

But no one answers. Only the drone of the establishment and the groans of your peers interrupt the silence…

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

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

New Old Days

Composed 6/29/14
Description: After I moved back home after completing my last semester of college, I began to have a hard time writing. I feel like this has something to do with the change in atmosphere. All the things that inspired me as I truly began writing poetry are now gone. I’m much more isolated here in my small town than I was in a larger city amidst a college campus (obviously), and everything is just so… routine. So quiet. So familiar.  And yet I don’t belong in it like I’m supposed to.  And somehow this has robbed me of my words. Even this poem came out with a lot more work than my poems usually do.

My muse let go on the ribbon road
And clings to pink leaves and iced cotton snow
It hides in phantom walks and rains
Sleeping in joys and old heart pains

Now vibrant colors halt at my eyes
While silence surrounds these small town country skies
And even as storms blow gray and wild
My voice shrivels up as a weak frightened child’s

I cannot speak in this peaceful calm
In the lull of unknowing I write no songs
There’s nothing to see, nothing to say
I’m alone and muted in these new old days

In solitude I think myself blind
And meaning hides in the shadows’ bind
It’s all too familiar and a tad amiss
Like a soon ex-lover’s first sweetly forced kiss

This place drains life from my body and words
So I sit, a stunned and silenced bird
And like the red leaves that showered me
So too my words have been crushed to seed

I cannot speak in this peaceful calm
In the lull of unknowing I write no songs
There’s nothing to see, nothing to say
I’m alone and muted in these new old days

Last of Days

Composed about 5/8/14
Description: A poem composed around the last few class days of the last semester of my college career.

What am I to say on these last of days?
as I write the last words on the last chapter’s page?
I feel no elation or intense sorrow
about the events taking place in the morrow.
I hear voices – bright, awed, and reserved –
but I stare at bare walls – quiet, undisturbed.
What should I think as I rest my head
for the final time on my four year bed?
It was a good time. I hope I remember
the laughs, the facts, every spring and December
I feel different. Have I changed for the better?
In some ways I’ve got it down to the letter.
But I’ve also learned of my imperfections
and falter to swing in new directions.
But as I leave I know I understand more –
of friendship, myself, and future doors.
I owe so much to my friends and my Lord,
And now He says it’s time to move

Forward

Dandelions

Composed 5/2/14
Description: Today is my last day of classes in undergrad. While walking to my class, I noticed that the bright yellow dandelions that I always found so charming and friendly on the shaggy green hill had all turned white. And they had just been so bright yesterday. I couldn’t help think this was meaningful.

The dandelions turned white
Overnight
An ominous way to say goodbye
Fly with the wind and multiply

Need a Jump

Composed 4/16/14
Description: (Day 16 of NaPoWriMo) Today’s poem was inspired by my car, which wouldn’t start thankyouverymuch. However, the sputtering of my ailing car battery did speak to me.

I
rush through the rooms of life
and slip on facts, theories, stats
snorting knowledge up the nose
and packing BS in the gaps
I stuff some sense inside my head
and pick up, stack up fun and friends
and push it, pump it to my heart
then rip it out as life begins
Guzzling advice at every turn
for schools, for jobs, fashion, and men
never thinking of my loves
but only where I could get in
And still I swipe up all the keys
that they say will lead to success
and now as I hit the door
I’m dragged down by this collaged mess

And I’m
stomping, sliding
round and round
down the stairs to destiny
And regardless of my preparing
I’m still rushed, naïve, not ready

I
unlock the door
I
jam in the keys
and I spuh-spuh-sputter
sputter on

And no wonder
‘cause I’ve been on
and never ceasing
and yet all you are expecting
for me to just continue racing

Won’t you just let me
recharge?

The Grind

Composed 12/17/13
Description: This was written in response to wdbwp’s prompt Trial and Tribulation.  The prompt was to write of a situation that has caused stress, anxiety, pain, etc.  For me, this was an easy prompt.  In fact, I actually had already written about half this earlier in the semester, but this prompt inspired me to finish it.

It’s the heavy
The dragging
The tired
And blind
The heart pumping
Worry
Of falling behind
The striving
The falling
The covered in mud
The lack of assistance
Coming from above
And then my soul
Pushed out there to sell
These are the trials
Of senior year hell

No Time

Composed 10/4/13
Description: A little bit of my life lately.

I roll my eyes at the angsty side
Do you know how much I have to do?
Two hours filled just talking ‘bout stuff
And time from the day for texting too!

Don’t you know little longing heart
My mind is too full for your swift tricks?
Even if I do manage heart strings’ pull
I don’t have the time! I can’t commit!

Papers, projects due in three weeks
All my weekends consumed
I daresay if you fell for me
I don’t know what I’d do

I have no time to write loving notes
Or spend hours sitting at the park
You’d ditch me a few weeks in, I’d bet
Even I’d had your heart

So for now I’ll bury myself
In the workload that surrounds
Maybe I’ll have time to love
When this madness calms down