Sensational

Composed 9/27/13
Description: I have so many ideas, and often I write them down, but they hardly make it to my blog anymore, because school is keeping me so distracted. There is always something to do, something to get ahead on… And when I take a break, I collapse. However, I wanted to take the time to post this poem, which I just wrote today after a walk back to my apartment. Remember how I said that my university’s literary arts magazine’s theme was going to be “growth?” Well, apparently now it’s “creative emergence.” Whatever that means. Here’s my interpretation (and possible entry).

Silky shadows of silhouettes nigh
With violets twisting with rose in the sky
The vastness of the horizon’s hillside
I’m inspired by my own eyes

Silence of darkness suddenly sears
Sweet rumbles of life then soon reappear
Chirping conversations so far and near
I’m inspired by my own ears

Light, brisk breezes drifting in
Goosebumps rising with the appearance of wind
Breathing in coolness and excitement within
I’m inspired by my own skin

Oceans of colors constantly twist
Sounds surround in a continuous mist
Sensations grace my form like a kiss
I’m inspired because I exist

The Thief

Composed 7/30/13
Description: Multiple things this could refer to. But they’re all situations writers fear…

He stole her inspiration
Cut out her tongue
Paralyzed her fingers
He left emptiness where there was life
Fear where there had been love
But worse
He invaded her heart and mind
And all without permission

She’d run a thousand miles
To save the innocents he’d taken
So she chased him down
To a house uptown
And knocked him off his block
And she got her inspiration back
All one hundred pages

Psychic

Composed: 6/12/13
Description: I have not posted in a long while it seems. This is partially because I am currently readjusting to working full time and partially because I have been inspired to continue working on a novel-in-progress. In fact, it has come to the point that I come up with backstories and events so randomly I’ve resorted to carrying around a notebook to write ideas as they come to me. This random inspiration that occurs throughout the day also makes it very hard to focus on work, hence this poem…

I reside in two realms
One reveals to me the past and future
The other strangles me with the present
Though I struggle to remain
Constantly slipping
Sliding
Seeing
And scribbling down pieces of lives

The world grasps me with its claws
Reeling me back to a pool of the numbest gray
But I am enticed by my premonitions
Unable to thrive in the world of the living
Unable to relinquish my soul
And let it be dragged down and drowned

The disjointed
Random realm
Of adrenaline and twisting lines
Of smoke and blood
Of rain and startling colors
That flashes before my eyes
Rolling back into my skull
Are a blessing
And must be written down for the good of man
Though I must record my thoughts in private
Lest I be cast out by those who judge

Thus is the life
Of a psychic
A clairvoyant
A writer

The Psychology of Muse

Composed 5/17/13
Description: Another personal piece.

Freud believed
That our deepest
Most forbidden desires
Reside in the ice burg of unconscious
Leaking through in
Physical malfunctions

While Lacan
Emphasized
What preoccupies us most
Slips out our mouths
In phonemes
In tricks of language

My desires
Reside in both
In my muse
Manifesting in
My poetry and how
It flies from my
Restless fingertips

For truly I find
I cannot write of
Anything
But you

April is Full of Contradictions

Alternative Title: What is it About April?
Composed: 4/16/13
Description: A light-hearted little poem today, which, though written a few days ago, perfectly describes today: stereotypically springtime gorgeous, but with a chance of severe thunderstorms tonight. This poem also describes a strange phenomenon: I always tend to pump out a LOT of writing in April. Disproportionally more so than the rest of the year. What is it about April…?

Cold wind
Warm Sun
A slave to school
But almost done

Dawn your flip flops
But pack your boots
Eighty degrees
But downpours soon

And barricade
The library doors
So you can raise
Your final scores

And on your breaks
Plan your fun
For books and papers
Are almost done

Betwixt the sun
And rain and wind
And mounds of tests
Almost at end
Words fall
Disproportionately
From my fingers
Easily

What is it about
April
The month of contradictions