Sunday, November 07, 1999

mouse

Note from 2012: I am missing a diary from about 1998 to 2002. I wrote a lot of poems in that time, but to the best of my knowledge I didn't write any diary entries. I will provide some of the poems here as a way to represent my melodramatic mind during those "missing years" and on some of the poems (2000-2002) the dates are only approximate. The thoughts were sometimes experimental, and not a total reflection of my life. Just poetry of a teenager. I won't upload all of them, but I will upload a few to fill in any gaps in my chronological record.

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The poem on this page is from an old book of poetry I had, I would sometimes write thought fragments on it while riding the bus, no solid dates were written down.

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Today, I was waiting for the bus and I was looking across the road. As I watched the street I saw a tiny mouse standing on my side of the street. The mouse hesitated, and then ran into the street. Big cars roared over its head, coming very close to hitting the poor mouse. The noise confused the poor mouse and for a moment she weaved back and forth, as if she was lost. And then with new determination the mouse finished across the road. Some silly girl said something like "What a stupid mouse, it shouldn't try to cross the road, it could get hit by a car!" But I thought, "What a brave mouse! Good for it!" Because this reminded me of life, in life we struggle to cross the road (or you can say we struggle with a task) and many things confuse us, no matter how hard we try. But if we don't give up--- we can cross the road!

Thursday, October 28, 1999

dream

Note from 2012: I am missing a diary from about 1998 to 2002. I wrote a lot of poems in that time, but to the best of my knowledge I didn't write any diary entries. I will provide some of the poems here as a way to represent my melodramatic mind during those "missing years" and on some of the poems (2000-2002) the dates are only approximate. The thoughts were sometimes experimental, and not a total reflection of my life. Just poetry of a teenager. I won't upload all of them, but I will upload a few to fill in any gaps in my chronological record.

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The poem on this page is from an old book of poetry I had, I would sometimes write thought fragments on it while riding the bus, no solid dates were written down.

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Very odd dream. It's fading now, I can feel the corners of the images crumble... soon it will only be a hazy memory. The morning is soft. A pinkish orange still bathes the horizon, like the ring that sometimes forms around the bathroom's tub. The tilt of the sun casts a vivid, and thick, shade of orange on everything. Like the dream, this orange hue will be gone soon. The trees this time of year, in the fall, seem to be so full of color. This year also, or maybe I am just noticing, but I like the shades of yellow that cling to the skinny branches. Voices. Sounds. Smells.

My thoughts are interrupted.

Monday, August 30, 1999

eye of the beholder

Note from 2012: I am missing a diary from about 1998 to 2002. I wrote a lot of poems in that time, but to the best of my knowledge I didn't write any diary entries. I will provide some of the poems here as a way to represent my melodramatic mind during those "missing years" and on some of the poems (2000-2002) the dates are only approximate. The thoughts were sometimes experimental, and not a total reflection of my life. Just poetry of a teenager. I won't upload all of them, but I will upload a few to fill in any gaps in my chronological record.

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The poem on this page is from a computer text file I kept on my handmade 80486.

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Eye of the beholder!
Watch me grow young as I get older!
eye of the beholder!
watch me get older!
get older!
look into the sky, as it brakes, and shines golder!
see the night as it grows oh so colder!
dont you r.e.a.l.i.s.eeee?
its all.
in the eye of the beholder!
I'm getting younger as I'm always older!
Say hello, say goodbye
Just behind your mask, I can see youre always ready to cry
Your eye, my eye
the difference is only a simple lie
eye of the beholder!
eye of the beholder!

Sunday, August 15, 1999

red green yellow

Note from 2012: I am missing a diary from about 1998 to 2002. I wrote a lot of poems in that time, but to the best of my knowledge I didn't write any diary entries. I will provide some of the poems here as a way to represent my melodramatic mind during those "missing years" and on some of the poems (2000-2002) the dates are only approximate. The thoughts were sometimes experimental, and not a total reflection of my life. Just poetry of a teenager. I won't upload all of them, but I will upload a few to fill in any gaps in my chronological record.

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The poem on this page is from a computer text file I kept on my handmade 80486.

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"red"
If you could hear the color red
would it only scream of the many dead?
what would it think when it saw the blue sky?
would it tell you everything will die?
if you could hear the color red
would you believe all the fiendish things it surly said?
Evil, heathen, red are you really all bad?
Red, red, marvelous red, thoughts of you only seem to make me sad

"green"
If you could feel the color green
Could it taste like a lima bean?
Would it feel flat or round?
And would it make even a simple chirping sound?
if you could feel the color green
would it feel like someone old, or someone who was as young as a teen?
Simple soft, green, do some people look upon you with hate?
Silly green, dumb and mute, I think the other colors use you for innocent bait

"yellow"
If you could be the color yellow
would you feel all gushy and mellow?
Or would you turn evil and scream?
Would you be like a monster in a bad dream?
If you could be the color yellow
would you shake so softly like lemon jello?
Or would you shrink oh so very small?
Would you then sit and stare at the empty wall?
Yellow, don't you have so many different ways that people understand you?
To me, youre just plain and simply a very beautiful hue

Tuesday, July 06, 1999

questions

Note from 2012: I am missing a diary from about 1998 to 2002. I wrote a lot of poems in that time, but to the best of my knowledge I didn't write any diary entries. I will provide some of the poems here as a way to represent my melodramatic mind during those "missing years" and on some of the poems (2000-2002) the dates are only approximate. The thoughts were sometimes experimental, and not a total reflection of my life. Just poetry of a teenager. I won't upload all of them, but I will upload a few to fill in any gaps in my chronological record.

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The poem on this page is from a computer text file I kept on my handmade 80486.

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My ears are hearing the evening rain
quietly in the dark
beyond my window the night drips in
softly with the drips of water, that fill the ground
Dirt to mud, mud to water, water to rain
My blurry eyes, want to see
But I am left with a mystery
The moans of pleasure, not my own, but oh so near
Were, for a few brief moments, all I could hear
And now the rain has washed away the simple thoughts, so quick
I am left with an odd, slippery, feeling deep inside my soul
Who was this word that I heard?
And when will it end?
I want to gain the entry, I want to get the answer
But all I am left with is the question,
and the story begins to fade, once again

Tuesday, June 29, 1999

further

Note from 2012: I am missing a diary from about 1998 to 2002. I wrote a lot of poems in that time, but to the best of my knowledge I didn't write any diary entries. I will provide some of the poems here as a way to represent my melodramatic mind during those "missing years" and on some of the poems (2000-2002) the dates are only approximate. The thoughts were sometimes experimental, and not a total reflection of my life. Just poetry of a teenager. I won't upload all of them, but I will upload a few to fill in any gaps in my chronological record.

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The poem on this page is from a computer text file I kept on my handmade 80486.

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I fear the words I claim are my cure
I fear they will say something of her
A past that is my present, will never go away
A feeling that crept inside of me, is here so long--to stay
Is this pain or pleasure
I can no longer grasp or measure
The feelings light my brittle body like a fire from within
This contorting pleasurable pain rips off my outer skin
As I am cleaned, I feel dirty, and oh so incomplete
My insides are laid bare by this inner heat
Tell me when will this ever end?
will I forever brake, but never bend?

Wednesday, June 23, 1999

waiting

Note from 2012: I am missing a diary from about 1998 to 2002. I wrote a lot of poems in that time, but to the best of my knowledge I didn't write any diary entries. I will provide some of the poems here as a way to represent my melodramatic mind during those "missing years" and on some of the poems (2000-2002) the dates are only approximate. The thoughts were sometimes experimental, and not a total reflection of my life. Just poetry of a teenager. I won't upload all of them, but I will upload a few to fill in any gaps in my chronological record.

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The poem on this page is from a computer text file I kept on my handmade 80486.

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I'm waiting for the phone to ring
waiting for a call
its never going to ring today
but I'll think it will anyway
becaue its the wish that keeps me going
the belief in each new day
and if I stop to think
then I'll surely stop forever
even if the phone will ring
ring so loud that I can not hear
I'm waiting ... for the phone ... to ring

Thursday, April 01, 1999

tears

Note from 2012: I am missing a diary from about 1998 to 2002. I wrote a lot of poems in that time, but to the best of my knowledge I didn't write any diary entries. I will provide some of the poems here as a way to represent my melodramatic mind during those "missing years" and on some of the poems (2000-2002) the dates are only approximate. The thoughts were sometimes experimental, and not a total reflection of my life. Just poetry of a teenager. I won't upload all of them, but I will upload a few to fill in any gaps in my chronological record.

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The poem on this page is from a computer text file I kept on my handmade 80486.

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She is walking, talking, and crying too
It makes me look down at my simple shoe
Artificial sunlight shines down on my head
I don’t know what is to be said
The moments melt together in the muddy pool of my mind
And I desperately want to be so kind
I feel like the night has almost won over the day
And it has left me not knowing what to say

I stop, pause, and sigh
I feel like I should also cry
The tears run down her face
At an extremely furious pace
And then the tears are gone, faster then they had came
They have soaked inside her soul, to feed her inner flame
For now the moment and tears did not last
They are lost in the many depths of the past

 
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