Friday, October 22, 2010

make you smile

i want to write you something, that'll make you smile. I want to see you read it, and watch your eyes crinkle up, as you glow a little inside, and awkwardly try to smile it out, and mumble a few embarrassed words. i want to see you concentrate on something, and ignore me trying to hold your hand, and then suddenly start and realize you love me; and beam at me and give me the biggest hug. i want you to be here, i want you to want to be here, and i want to lie down, and fall asleep with your breath tickling my hair.

Monday, October 18, 2010

plane magic

the plane descended slowly over the city and bright lights made it look like magic was afoot. streams of traffic snaked along and clusters of yellow and rows of white and twinkles of chaos. and the plane lowered and lowered and the city became grubbier and the lights became a singe row of runway markers. and the reflection on the wingtip outside my window of fuzzy yellow sparkles was all that was left of the intoxication of a city looked at from far away.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

lost.

you see, I'm painfully shy.
and a little bit slow, sometimes. 
and I'm very sensitive, things affect me, you know, 
I cry very easily; I'm a hypochondriac,
and I love babies and fluffy things. 
I play the piano, 
and I'm very musical, actually, 
except I just don't seem to practice, 
and I'm not very good. Its because
I'm too shy to play in front of people, 
and the few times I've tried have scarred me for life.  
I'm very perceptive, and a good
listener, and I have the kind of face 
you can share all your problems with. 
did I mention, that I've sung, danced, written poetry, 
and done well in school, and 
taught poor children?
I'm quite lovely you see, 
and I'm almost completely 
lacking in personality.

and did i mention, that i loathe my list of accomplishments?
and that i see through every pretension,
but I'm so scared of my own being dissected
that i will never dream of opening yours up.
and that i was never this daft
my thoughts used to race
faster that i could catch up to
but i was too slow to use them
and now i cant hear them anymore
and I'm too scared to type long sentences and paragraphs
and have to break them up
so that they're smaller, and I'm surer of them.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

i want to go to sleep.

and at the end of the three headed hydra of a day, thats all i want. i want to stop caring about tiny things and unnecessary people and what they did and thought and will do if i don't do. i want to stop taking on more than i can handle and let go of everything i ever got myself into and stop regretting and just forget, because they probably have too. 
all i want, is to find something that i really want to care about. 

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

its odd,
that sometimes,
some words just click together.
and some things that you write
work
for some people.
and others,
they work for you.
and some poems of yours
that no one else seems to like
you like
because you feel special understanding something
that noone else does?

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

in the begining

in the beginning, there was nothing but a tiny little glowworm of a thought inching around the darkness.
scrabbling fingers, fumbling for a pen in the dark.
a flicker and scratch of a match, the smell of flickering light.
a slight glow, warming cold fingers, puddles of dripping wax, oozing into shapes. a scratchy start, word crossed out and rethought, a glowworm frantically flashing around, to escape being pinned down.
a fleeting glimpse of a person in the candlelight; a yellowed shadow.
people and places begin to whisper around and stale the air with their crowded smell.
befuddlement, crowded thoughts and noisy lonely people and horses and carriages and shiny trains with automated voices that say everything wrong. the remenants of a day dredge themselves onto paper.
lonely worlds echo into the words and lonely smiles seep into the ink.
the candle melts away and white neon light burns into everything, searing it and tainting the carriages and yellowed faces.
and the glowworm inches away
to be captured
by someone else, another day.
when neon lights blind the skies
and inspiration turns into a tubelight on a metallic wall. 


Holiday

i have cream and mushroom pasta,
and the weather is a part of my imagination
and depends on what i feel like wearing.
i have a sunny balcony with plants
and cane sofas with lime green cushions
and a peaceful looking buddha in the corner,
to keep me company as i read.
i'm waking up not too late, but not early
and i can feel the sun on my face,
and walk into a bathroom
that smells of potpurri and pomegranate shampoo.
home,
is a vague recollection
that swirls away with work and backaches
into a big glass of iced tea.
but somehow,
you don't swirl down as well
and i cant help
wishing you were here.