My dad's a master
In the kitchen.
Butterflied chicken,
Covered in bread crumbs
And buffalo sauce.
So much goodness,
I came up with
The perfect measurement
Of how spicy I like my food:
"I want my taste buds screaming.
Half fan-girl screams,
The other half
'Ah! an axe-murderer!'"
Friday, January 27, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Laughter
Pour laughter
Out of your soul.
Let it tumble
And run
Like the swiftest river
Into the lives of others.
Out of your soul.
Let it tumble
And run
Like the swiftest river
Into the lives of others.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Doors
The doors of the heart
Must be unlocked carefully.
Must be unlocked slowly.
Do not rush.
They stumble
That run fast.
Too young,
Too young,
Help me my dear
For I'm afraid.
I feel so old
And yet so young.
Don't tie me too close
Too soon.
(Even though I want
You to)
Hopes planted
That do not bloom
Tear at the soul...
Must be unlocked carefully.
Must be unlocked slowly.
Do not rush.
They stumble
That run fast.
Too young,
Too young,
Help me my dear
For I'm afraid.
I feel so old
And yet so young.
Don't tie me too close
Too soon.
(Even though I want
You to)
Hopes planted
That do not bloom
Tear at the soul...
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Dementors
There's a dementor around my waist
Who of my soul his claws make waste.
He buries his knife 'neath my shoulder blade
And to me all these sorrows bade.
With ice and fire he infects my bones
Til I cannot discern my home.
And unsatisfied with me unsettled
Gathers upon my feet these nettles.
He lays his lies in cunning net
Treacherous doubts they do beget
A burning kiss he leaves on lips
In happy dance he cause me trip.
I find joy when he doth depart
Turning my sorrows to thrilling art.
But it cannot last when he takes his leave
For wife of dementors I always will be.
How he wins wicked victory
I know by what cunning trickery
He steals the faith from lover's eye
And turns their mind from God on High.
Who of my soul his claws make waste.
He buries his knife 'neath my shoulder blade
And to me all these sorrows bade.
With ice and fire he infects my bones
Til I cannot discern my home.
And unsatisfied with me unsettled
Gathers upon my feet these nettles.
He lays his lies in cunning net
Treacherous doubts they do beget
A burning kiss he leaves on lips
In happy dance he cause me trip.
I find joy when he doth depart
Turning my sorrows to thrilling art.
But it cannot last when he takes his leave
For wife of dementors I always will be.
How he wins wicked victory
I know by what cunning trickery
He steals the faith from lover's eye
And turns their mind from God on High.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Parted to the Left
And I'm suffering
From fallen hero syndrome.
What was once a pretty picture
Is now a broken idol of clay.
The disappointment grows to anger
For he that demands perfection
Does not give it.
And every day I'm more confused.
What was white is now gray
And I can't find the words
Nor the courage
To try to fix the problem.
As leaders tumble
I fear the coup.
From fallen hero syndrome.
What was once a pretty picture
Is now a broken idol of clay.
The disappointment grows to anger
For he that demands perfection
Does not give it.
And every day I'm more confused.
What was white is now gray
And I can't find the words
Nor the courage
To try to fix the problem.
As leaders tumble
I fear the coup.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
200 poems
200 poems here.
200 times I've shared my thoughts.
200 times I dared to speak.
200 poems made of tiny dots.
200 times I've shared my thoughts.
200 times I dared to speak.
200 poems made of tiny dots.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
1st Day
It's the first day.
New year.
New life.
More projects,
And hopes
And dreams.
To be young
And run the gauntlet
Of life
New year.
New life.
More projects,
And hopes
And dreams.
To be young
And run the gauntlet
Of life
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