The Time Has Come for Opinions...

Honestly, there were times over the past 30 days that I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get through until tomorrow.

That makes it sound so bad, but... it doesn't help to lie on this. The honest-to-god's truth is that this was fun. At times, it was stressful, as demonstrated by several haiku that go along the lines of, "oh, crap. it's 10.30 and I haven't posted today." Some ok things have come out of this, though. On the whole, I can't say it was a bad experience. I've become increasingly more concrete in my idea that the best things come if you don't force them, but several poems would never have been written if I hadn't forced myself to sit down and get something onto paper, regardless of how cliche or awkward it sounds.

About halfway through (the feeling came exactly on Day 15), I realized that I wanted it to be over. The beginning was all carefree and butterflies flying through meadows of happiness. Then it turned to mush. My brain became mush. Haiku were the primary result of said mush (it felt too much like cheating at the beginning. time takes away morals so easily...). The last few days have been almost refreshing. Like getting a second wind 2/3 of the way through a triathlon. After that, you feel like you can do anything again. Only, this time, you mean it with all you instead of having that one wavering part of yourself that convinces the rest of you sometime after the second week that you actually can't do it and that it's pointless to try.

Pretty much, that's what happened to me over the last month. It's hard to believe it's all over. Just as I was getting into the habit of making sure I'd written something so that I wouldn't miss a day (actually was late twice...), I can stop. Deadlines are weird that way...

Personally, I think I got more out of this project than people who took days off or fell so far behind that it's been two weeks since they updated. I made myself write everyday (I'm a firm believer that if you're going to do something, you have to do it all the way or it's pointless to start in the first place) and that's helped me grow (I hope).

At the beginning, I was skeptical as to how this was going to work out in the end (weird project, especially for the end of the year), but it's all worked out nicely and think everyone's going to have some, at the very least, semi-acceptable stuff to take from this. I know I will.

And so concludes this chapter of blogging. Thanks.

The End

you said
forever
as we kissed
and promised
never
to be gone
when we were
alone.

but that's
all over now.

distance
keeps us apart
and you can't
keep your hands
to yourself
when I'm
not there.

you pressed
sweetness
into me with
your lips
as you told
me of the
other girls.
you don't know
how you make me
feel.

I thought
this was
forever.
This is only
the end.

define: Penultimate

the sort of thing that
happens when you are second
to last in a line

Stories for Singing Around a Checkered Tablecloth

Tell me again how salt
On ripe red fruit
Makes such an
Amazing treat
That people flock from all
Over to get a taste.

define: Toe Nail Polish

peeling, flaking off
onto the floor from sweaty
toe nails painted pink

Nightmare Dreamscape

cold air touches
your nose;
blankets pulled up
to your chin
can't keep
the cold off.

somewhere over
the rainbow,
you're floating through
your worst imaginings.

little green monsters
and purple buzzing things
chase you over cloud tops
(apiphobia and
nephophobia).

you never got
on well with
the sky.

running through
the forest
(dendrophobia)
with a million
little sharp thoughts
chasing after you
(anxiety disorder).

your girlfriend's
standing in your way,
lets the thoughts
tear into your flesh,
and adds her own burden:
where are we going?
(commitment issues)

fleeing, you
come across a
group of furry,
scrawny puff balls,
all foaming at the mouth.
(musophobia)
scream tears your
throat as you
try to hide from
yourself.

wake up,
panting,
dial the number.

your psychiatrist's
going to have a field
day with this
(nosocomephobia).

define: Food Simplicity

peanut butter and
jelly, the classic after-
school and lunchtime treat

-

For the 12, because I get easily distracted by lemonade.

Stereotypes

dress like a goth,
think like a scientist,
talk like a valleygirl.

OMG,
black is
like
the new pink
and
like
have you seen
those heart-on-sleeve
kids lately?
talk about
ew.

I defy
labels
simply by
being.

Cipher (You Are the Lock and I Hold the Key)

azure eyes
(my own Indian
ink to drown in)

flushed cheeks
(rose petals against
soft flesh)

delicate ears
(seemingly sculpted
from the red clay
of the earth and
fire-glazed to pale perfection)

yielding lips
(slowly parting
to reveal the tip
of your intoxicating tongue)

proud chin
(jutting powerfully
and making a point
every time
you move your head)

willowy neck
(long and beautiful,
carrying your head
with the grace of a swan)

wide shoulders
(strong and encasing
those arms that
hold me late at night)

straight back
(rigid and sore
from bearing all
the burdens of forever)

tapering waist
(just enough
to sling my arms
around when
we embrace)

in the night
when I feel
your smooth leg
against mine
(swimmer shaved and
woman waxed),

I want to peel
the skin back from
your bones
and see if
your beauty
only goes that deep.

I want to know
that this isn't
temporary
and you are real,

not just
something I imagined
in a dream.

I need to know
you'll still be there
when I wake up,
holding me near
your looking glass heart.

define: True Beauty

I want to peel back
your skin and see if beauty
is only that deep

Weatherspeak

talk to me
talk to me,
Mr. Meteorology.
tell me
what the
weather's going
to be doing today.

will it be
rainy or
sunny?
cloudy or
bright?

highs today
might depend
on how you're
feeling and
how you've been.

everybody hates
the weatherman,
but I've got a
secret for you.

(I know the art
of weatherspeak, too)

define: Tingles

when our lips touch, it's
almost like fireworks; watch
out for explosions

define: Soul-Deep Pain

criticisms shred
against my soul like a cheese
grater on cheddar

Moth-Like Surveillance

the world is so
congested with
temptation
that it
forcefully repels
anyone who wants
to get in.

children are born
because they were
here to begin with.
they paid no
price for
admission.

but what about
the otherworldly
being?
I'm sure the
ghosts of past
would like to
visit from
time to time.

how do they
get in?

it starts
with a deal
and ends
in tragedy.

like a moth
beating its
wings relentlessly
against glass
that will never yield,
they plead.

the pleading
will fade,
just as a moth
can only buzz
around the light
so long before
dawn approaches,
and it will
turn to asking.

asking what the
price is,
what he wants
for admission.

when they hear
what he is asking,
they'll say, 'no,
there must be some
other way.'

but there's not.

and, eventually,
they will stop
grasping at straws,
knowing they will
always pull the
short one,
and accept
his price.

once they have
paid, they
are allowed back
into the cities
where once they
were worshipped,
but now are little
more than
forgotten hope
for a better tomorrow.

and in those cities,
they will die
without hope,
without resistance,
without purity.

the asking price
was too high
for them to stay
as once they were.
they fell to
the very temptation
that kept them out
in the first place
and so were
sacrificed.

let the angels
who sold their
souls to the devil
to see us,
save us,
never be
forgotten,
for only will
they be truly
dead when
they are gone
from our
memories.

Nowhere to Go At All

when you hit
bottom,
they say
there is nowhere to go
but up.

but what about
all those people
who sink lower,
the former employees
laid off and
the homeless
without anything?

where do they go?

-

Quite obviously, not done. Suggestions are welcome, but may be ignored if they don't fit into the big picture.

define: Time Flies Whether You're Having Fun or Not

this is a haiku
about the fact that I can't
properly track time

On Why People Lie

aliens.

I've been told
that one of the reasons
people lie
is that
they aren't really people.

and that leaves
aliens.

they would be
so good at it, too.

can you
tell when
an alien
is wearing
his poker face?

define: Unctuous

greasy sensation
when you run your fingers through
his limp strands of hair

define: Water (a triology of haiku)

define: Learning to Drown
terror grips you as
you slide under water; safety
but a passing thought

define: Aquaphobia
lifeguards grip your limp
body in a desperate attempt
to preserve childhood

define: Aquaphobia, pt. 2
even years later,
the sensation never could
pass; life-long fear attained

Dandelions to Wishes: The True Nature of Spring

they say
April showers
bring May flowers
and that's all
well and good
and romantic,
but

have you
seen
the acidity level
of rain
recently?

it falls on us
like good intentions
(means well,
never follows through).
let that settle
or hit you in the face
like a ton of
diving bricks.

dandelions?
try chemically altered
starfish.
and back to those
good intentions.
singing in the rain
is actually not
as pleasant as it may sound.
you aren't a diva
and I don't want
to hear
'It's Raining Men'
off-key
in the middle
of a cold December storm.

next time you want
to throw
adages around,
make sure
you know what
you're talking about.

Aggrivated Assult

a million billion
sugar-coated lies
fall from your
perfect lips;

I can't escape you.

even after it's all
said and done,
you're there:

a tragical
magical
beautiful
lie.

but what do I
know of the
complex hierarchy
of domination
and submission?

to you,
I'm just
tonight's,
and tomorrow's
lay.
to me,
you're a
means to an end.

the only difference
between us
is that my end
is much less
sinister
than the one you have
planned.

my end is
love.

define: Perfect Health

apple a day keeps
the doctor away; daily
requirement met

-

From the 27, because I neglected to post. My brother's birthday party seemed a little more important at the time...

define: Crush

the sensation where
your heart is in your throat when
she enters the room

Mental

in a faraway land
of castles and kingdoms,
you reside in all your
unstable glory.

frolicking among
the daisies
is your favorite past time
and you could
care less
about what
they say to,
and about,
you.

see,
among the thorns
are sterilized needles
and the grass
is so much softer
than it should be.

you
don't
care.

as long as you have
sun
and stars
and open spaces,
even if they're
only in your head,
you're ok.

as dusk falls on
you in the meadow,
trained professionals are
turning off the lights in your
nice
padded
room.

One-Track Mind

Attention, world!
This is your
representative speaking.

Due
slightly in part to
global warming,
I regret to inform you that
life is almost over.
The sun will
fry
our planet
much sooner
than originally thought
and life will
ceasse to exist
on Earth.

Cancer-causing agents
have been
released
into the
atmosphere
after years of
unhealthy living
and the decisions of
generations past
will haunt us
until our demise.

Education
is on the fritz
(don't even get me
started
on that)
and health care
has reached
an all-time
low.
Low on quality,
not cost.

Through it all,
I encourage you
to vote
me
in the next election,
should the
space station
be perfected
before the
end.

Bitterest Enemies (for X)

always on the
outside
for something
you can't control.

hate
thrown at you
everyday
because of
one person.

but that
one person
means the world
and more
to you,
so
you face
the daily hate.

it doesn't make it any
easier
to bear the scars,
though.

you just want
normalacy,

whatever that is
in this day and age.

you just need
a friend,
someone to
stand by you
against wave
after
wave
of the mob.

I just need
an enemy.

define: Almost Late

eyes buldge and fingers
clench; lateness never looked good
for my complexion

define: Slam

shut with force, defined
by dictionary; for me,
poetry on crack

define: Creative Writing

in any other
class, time crawls by. in this one
it goes by too fast.

Industrial Stength Cleaner Can't Get Rid of Memories

pop!
pop, pop, pop!

soap bubbles
ringing in your ears
long after the
bath is gone.

pop!

can’t get the
dirty
out of your mind
even if the
soap bubbles
got it off your body.

pop!

red-tinged water
flows down the drain
and out of your tub,
but the solid remains
of true lust
remain forever more.

pop.

suddenly,
simple pleasures
sound so sinister.

Acting at Life

I am a writer.

oh, I’m not proud of it,
the same way you can’t be cocky about your
sexual promiscuity.
STDs are like golf:
lowest score wins.

and I’d rather not
become a whore
for praise.

stereotypes are so hard
to get out of.
people look at me
with the same accusation in their eyes
as they do you.

you do what for a living?

pity.
they don’t even know me.
I’d rather not be judged
for doing what I love
and I’m sure you
want the same.

sometimes,
I’d like for the
prerequisites
to disappear.
why do I have to
scrounge
when I can have a
day job?
but then, why do I have to
work three jobs
at minimum wage
if I’m going to work?
why do I have to be
the lobster for Seafood, Seafood?

why can’t I just
be?

And why can’t
you?
I know you’ve done wrong
and I know you aren’t
even close to perfect,
but

you and me,
we have great
chemistry.

when I come here,
I want to lose myself
in the words
and never come back
because it’s easier to live
here
than it is
out there.

I just want to
take a step closer...

cut!

the sudden noise cuts through
out moment
and I grin at you,
not longer flushing pink
as we lean in for the kiss.
weekend rehearsals
for the original play
I wrote
don’t bother me anymore
and I’m just glad
to be a part of this.

you stand there,
lightly blushing
in a way you’ve
never done before.
suddenly nervous,
I step back,
shuffling slowly
as you advance
step by step
until my back
is against the wall.
lean in,
I’m totally aware
of your every
movement,
whisper
I want to make it
real
against my ear.

whimper.

nod slowly.

smile breaks
your face.

god,
I love
Saturdays.