10 Things I Know To Be True - 11/18/2014 |
Click here to edit. |
1. Allergies suck.
2. Most people mean well but are too ignorant to act on their intentions. 3. Staples' glue sticks are better than Elmer's'. 4. A calculator is a crutch; I guess I broke my leg again. 5. I am definitely wavering too much on colleges. 6. A just-tuned piano can produce the best music. 7. Fire makes water. 8. We focus too much on the numbers. 9. The title of this list sounds like click bait. Edit 11/19/2014 : -Removed "well" after "act" in #2 -Removed "as a collective" and commas in #8 |
Click here to edit.
Go ahead, I won't bite. |
As from Sarah Kay's talk at TED, I decided to start with making a list. 9-5-14rip Robin Williams
My head hurts- probably all these stupid bells I'm not a poet, I don't think- but sometimes my thoughts are poetic If images can be poetry then my brain is a neoshakespeare I'm getting better at coming up with the right words- succinct incessant pragmatic But beautiful words are different- they aren't written but dreamed seen spoken A pen writing illegible scrawl in a notebook will never make it past mediocre But that's alright. I'm not a poet I don't think. Edit 12/16/2014 -decapitalized "RIP" -comma added in line 4 -decapitalized "succint", "incessant", and "pragmatic" - hyphens added at the end of lines 2, 4, 8, 12 Found written in a notebook from earlier this year based off some sort of prompt on poets and whatever. I think it was around the time we looked at Hemingway's 6 word poem. Also during homecoming week which explains why I was complaining about the bells. The noisy homecoming mums omg... 1-14-14 #1If you can copy
rhyme and verse and song If you feel no pull of conscience when doing wrong If you can plagiarize while others produce innovation Then you too will be worthless Go to hell. Edit 12/16/2014 -Changed line 4 to read "of conscience when doing wrong" instead of "from your heart when you do wrong" WEOW okay this seems to be a very um.. hateful poem I wrote early this year.There's more but it really didn't go with it so I'm separating it into a second poem -> 1-3-15When people ask me to describe myself
my usual answer is "I don't know" "how do you not know yourself?" they ask no I know myself I just don't know how to make you know me without identifying myself with the known; banal stereotypes that never do anybody justice. and when they ask what I like I am afraid to answer afraid that the image associate with liking that will define me so I stay undefined and unrefined because I'm always afraid that my subconscious will force me to conform force me to change who I thought I was to meet the definition of "that kind of person" people will expect me to be. Don't expect me, but don't reject me just because I am the square peg that will never be able to fit in your round hole. So no, I know who I am; do you? Edit: 1/12/15 -various punctuation added throughout -spacing -"So now I know you know I know who I am" changed to "So no, I know who I am" -"but don't... me" added to stanza 4 line 2 -"just because"..."that will"..."be"..."your round" added, "the" omitted -"I'm" became "I am" in stanza 1 line 8 This is the first thing I wrote with the intention of doing as spoken word. Hopefully I'll do that and put it up soon. Hopefully it sounds better spoken too. 1-25-15 #1Once I met a man of fame
But his words, there were few Later on I learned his name As I watched the nightly news. His eyes were like candles, warm and inviting And he had the most handsome jaw I'd be envious of his wife, if he Hadn't hacked her up with a saw. 2-2-15Hello, world.
My name is Kelsey, What's yours? Hello, Kelsey. My name is anxiety. Nice to meat you. Hello, anxiety. My name is insecurity. Hope I'm not a bother. Hello, insecurity. My name is ignorance. Let's be friends. Hey there, ignorance. I'm apathy. Hi, apathy. 2-5-15the lone tower stands with pride
all the rest around it broken, demolished. it alone defies the will of man to destroy it. silently, only the noise of a lone bird cries "fuck off, Chad, you douchebag." 2-16-15 #1One night during a harvest moon
I was walking through the grove. I came upon a sparrow, flat With ants throughout its small chest. I though "how unsightly the poor bird is to this grove" and I turned to fetch my shovel, only to lose my thoughts on the way back. 2-16-15 #2The sea swells beneath my feet,
And the stars shine down on thee - All the while my heart still screams, For you to let me be. 2-19-15 #1dry, cracked, peeling
blistered, yellow healing calloused, thick, white rough, tough, light soft, tender, smooth sensitive; new tougher, stronger, grown improved, wiser, shown 2/25/15A shadow
of what could have been; of what was, and what will be. All possible outcomes shrouded in the darkness. Tucked away, out of sight, but always in mind. Following you so you don't forget. 3/4/15I thought I was writing a song
But it turns out I wrote it all wrong It started alright But really, I might Not have mentioned my mother's old bong |
Click here to edit. My head hurts - 12/12/2014the daze, the greys,
the ways of dusk as vision scattered, light shattered nothing mattered anyways the haze, the maze, the day's dusk is still around us still astounds us yet it grounds us in our daze the ways the greys can speak of dusk of empty days hollow plays lay, you may and decay Edit 12/16/2014 -Changed "say" to "speak" in stanza 3 line 2 -Changed "meaningless brays" to "hollow plays" in stanza 3 line 4 -Changed "speak" to "lay" in stanza 3 line 5 Hopefully I'll have a title for this eventually. The only title I had on the page that I wrote this on in my notebook was "my head hurts." I left out the last stanza which went: 1-14-14 #2If you can talk to yourself
and reason with your mind You're either clinically mad or a rather talented kind. If you can love a person you have only just met you're either stupid and naive or a rare breed of innocent. If you can eat all that you want and never gain a pound well you're just a lucky bitch There's no way around that. Why was I swearing on this day? I don't normally swear. Maybe just because the word fit well and I was writing for myself and nobody would see it. Funny how that worked out... 1-22-15There is a man of the night
Who sells a many shoes; On evening he found such a fright That he did lose his muse. He wanders up and down the lane Looking for new passion, Until the day he finally meets The queen of New York fashion. But that day has never been, Nor will it ever be; For now he corners desperate men And bashes in their knees. Lead pipe in hand he keeps them down Just long enough to steal Sketchers and Doc's to turn around And pawn for his next meal Edit 2/4/15 -Line one: "once was" became "is", "the"added after "of" -Line two: "sold" to "sells" -Line 4: "It made him" to "That he did" -Line 5: "wandered" to "wanders" -Line 15: "Sperry's" to "Sketchers" -Punctuation and consistent capitalization 1-25-15 #2It's yellow and white,
Whatever you like, It's ooey and gooey and fun. It's hot and it's smooth, With a buttery lube, Oh, it's hard to say when I'm done. It's thick or it's thin, Either way you win, With breadcrumbs and crackers to please-- So give me a hand, With the milk and the land, o' lakes; tonight it's mac 'n cheese! I just realized how naughty the first stanza sounds. Ah, but maybe that is more fitting for expressing my unnatural love of mac n cheese. 1-26-15I awoke and lay,
As the bright winter's day, Sighed all that my heart had run from. Sun broke through the door, And rushed 'cross the floor, And said: what was done is done. 2-3-15Oh how you mean the world to me
You are my ground-- My rock-- My net-- Oh how you lift me up when I'm So overwhelmed-- So lost-- So hurt-- Oh how you remind me just to be All myself-- None else-- Just me. <3 2-12-15When I was a child,
we had persimmons in the backyard. Every growing season My brothers and sisters and I would watch as the persimmons grew from a bud metamorphed, and ripened. Weeks were spent just reaching the perfect ripeness Then, just as their one and only goal reached fruition, birds would come pluck the persimmons off their branches like hor dourves in their own little banquet. They would crush and gnaw the persimmons before dropping them to the ants. I always thought the trees were stupid. Each year they waste energy on a lost cause, and each year the persimmons grow back again. The the birds came for me. Edit 2/22/15 -line 6 "flower" becomes "bud" -line 10 "the persimmons" becomes "their", line shift to follow -line 17 "squish and bite" becomes "crush and gnaw" -line 20, 21, 23 inserted. 2-19-15I wish you were pocket sized, My
own little thumbellina; To drop you in my shirt pocket, Right against my beating heart. Or no - I'd rather be the one to rest between the folds; To sleep in warmth From your ardorous love, your chest undulating: be thumph - ba thumph 3/3/15I love you big
I love you tall I love you short I love you small I love you wide I love you grand I love you feet I love you hands I love you miles I love you leagues I love you inches I love you peas 3/30/15Rip in pepperoni pizza rolls
|