aspirations
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This organ,
The only way to describe this organ,
A little child.
And she sings in a chapel.
Even the summer of sorrows
A fun filled childhood
that consists of giggles, hugs and cartoons
A happy kid with no worries,
what a wonderful time it has been.
My family is joyful which makes this time most relishing
We are trapped in a small town
No resources or means
A family struggling to get by
Holding on at the seams
You want us to stay here
We are trying to leave
You think we will miss it
Days of youth containing cheerful screaming,
Hours of running and spreading laughter
Are jointly held through the room of dreaming
The place that we take care and look after
Keep your visions awake
They can sneak away
as you sleep
Your dreams control them
But barely hold the hill
You will run from their onslaught
And let them run too
i'm an architect of dreams
structures built of hope speckle the skyline
blueprints of fantasies litter my thoughts
the top floor of every skyscraper is designed to reach the atmosphere
Today. Today I question myself
Who is in my life?
Who cares? and Who holds me back?
The answer awaits
You see, for me to ask that
I would need to understand myself
What do I want?
My nose becomes a leaky faucet
whenever I eat soup. The bed must
be remade each day because I sleep
so wildly. My breasts are a treasure trove
How could skin so white—
Become so red with irritability—
How could a face so flush—
Be filled again with sensibility?
With adoration prescribed you—
And a melted chocolate heart—
Failure is a creature of the darkness,
But I can see it clear as day.
A monstrous entity of terror,
Feeding off the smallest of insecurities.
Its grasp is ever tightening,
Into the arms of a September skye of rusting moons and dripping stars I lay my heart into the palms of time beneath this rain long enough to bleed a poem for you. The light has opened with it's broken skye as the drops fall down to lighten m
I am extraordinary, my life, my brain, everything surrounding me is magic.
Wondrous light that angels dare not see.
I am one, one in a sea of faces, each dark and clouded.
Eyes dull and heads slumped.
Don’t cry for me mama, because you know I jumped for joy,
When I was rejected from your Ivy League school,
From a study that would bring security and down my world,
To you,
I am just a pale face
Tired and exhausted
I lack something that you want.
And to you,
That is perfection.
I am more than just this filter
Of beauty so fake.
I am a person.
As a child I never really noticed differences or imperfections in the people around me. It has never once crossed my mind why I might be better than someone else, and it most likely never will.
WHO’S FLAWLESS?
Flawless because I’m contempt with the person I am / becoming.
Flawless because I’m eighteen proud and gay.
I am the problematic child.
Could you feel me leave; and climb so high to see the world at my feet?
Steady storms ashore, but I'm the iris and I just want more
It's in the stars: the treble in my heart will be heard on Mars, for
I wear a mask, thick as leather
Beneah the seams fear keeps the mask together
No scars lie behind this invisible shield
A single word is all that's concealed
On the way back where?-ward,
the tree's bark disfigured me out,
formed lips that mirrored my breath,
I wonder at what depth's do my words sink in
i'm gonna polish It 2 a solar flame2 rekindle my subconcious chariotthat bears my virgin senses from:
There will be a day when you and I begin to rust
and our youth fades into dust
We'll go out like a flickering lightbulb on a dusty back porch
I was 12 years old, sitting on the front porch.
Parents arguing inside, about money of course.
When I grow up, none of this,
No paycheck-to-paycheck living,
No worrying about making ends meet,
We live our short lives with the perception we possess laser like concentration!Yet unbeknownst to many of us, we are part of a game rigged to generate tension!
We as human beings tend to focus on the negative instead of the positive. We usually can't help it, it's form of habit. A habit passed down since, well... forever. Sometimes though...
My memory is flimsy, weak to the remembrance
but…
Never forgotten are the sentiments that cause my heart to cry
Savory veracity
Appeal to my palette
Through the eyes of a dreamer
Nothing can stand in my way
Soaring high over mountains and oceans
My own little airplane cradling me in the sky
If only I weren’t afraid of heights
The dream is always changing,
yet it stays the same.
To be a prima ballerina,
to be a surgeon,
a singer,
a broadway star.
To be a proffessional hurdler.
To be an astronuat.
When you ask a child "what do you want to be"
Their answer naivee lays on the heart and warms you,
The smile on your face starts to curve even higher and you think
how sweet.
My eyes
They burn
My mind
It hurts
Hypocrisy
Beating at my heart
Lies
Making my heart not want to beat
Stop it
Please, stop it
it powers the writer
to write one more line
it inspires the muscian
to play one more time
it rages the soldier
to take that front
it focuses the athlete
It's been going on for too long.
They say Rachel has the potential.
POTENTIAL POTENTIAL POTENTIAL
Is all I hear.
Rachel is talkative.
Rachel constantly voices her opinions.
The strokes of life burn within my paper
Seeping through the lines
Creating a sunder for the reaper
Those creases in your brow
Struggling to be unique,
Then in return I get critiqued,
Thinking outside the box.
But limited as the clock ticktocks.
Trying to discover a better way,
But your emotion is truly grey.
It began when a little girl raided through her mother’s old clothing on a rainy, summer afternoon. Boxes and bins began to empty as she set aside only the best and most hopeful of the pieces.
To the teacher that ruined my dreams:Thank you.To the teacher that ruined math for me:Thank you.To the teacher that always made me harmony:Thank you.To the teacher that never had time for me:Thank you
Life is filled with choices
Which may be influenced by voices
About financial aid and college courses
Only lends to the soreness
College is purely optional
But without it where can you go
The words flow from my heart
And into my revolving conscious
Where at the jot of a pen they part,
And with revision, I am cautious.
Poetry is me,
And I am poetry.
What if you could evaporate in the sky
And drift freely along the twists and turns of the winds current
Travel miles upon miles over land
Showering them with your condensed vapor
Your impression
That the world will harbor the
Audacity to sever limbs from the whole truth
Are gravely mistaken.
From now on, the whole truth, and nothing less!
And in times of future toil,
I am a writer.
Who is writing a poem.
Words flow, but is a river made?
A river flows but were any words made?
I write and write and write and write
But does that always mean I'm right?
"Don't do that" a common utterance of disempowerment
A three word society on its own
filled with expectation when the first mistake was made
A sense of being unloved, peaking through a pessimistic lens of hearing
Theres Something Great In All Of Us,
Something We Dont Earn But is Born Within Us,
Potential..
Potential Change The Lives Of Others and Make A Difference In World Where We
I write to speak my mind.
I write to keep my thoughts inside.
I write to express.
I write to impress.
I write to remember.
I write to forget.
I write because I have to.
Look into your own Imagination.
What is around your location?
Suited rabbits? Black magic?
Mystic incantations?
Delve deeper than a magicians hat.
Outside the box? Farther than that.
Letters of blue,
background of gray.
A forlorn hue,
a fading day.
Memories made,
memories lost.
Characters built,
companions cost.
Childhood gone,
in body for sure.
Maturity's con,
Riding down the road with a hint of sun seeping through the leaves,
It gives me a sense of exuberance,
For it illuminates my aspiration to soar above the Sky.
I'm running
My feet are pounding against the surface
I hear my heart beating in my ears
My breath quickens as I am frantically trying to find a way out
I'm Trapped by the walls within my head
A distant Utter; a mythical Stutter?
In Youth, is It serious truth?
Must be fictitious; It is never to be serious.
But Observe! Another undefined curve!
For Play or For Real? They May both Seal.
Sometimes I feel lost in the dark
But I can hide it with a smile
And wait for the stars
Before reaching high
Challenges. My plans are like fogged glass
And nothing is new
I am a charismatic girl, with big goals and aspirations
I wonder where I will be in about 5 years from now
I hear encouraging words from the angels watching over me in heaven
If you're looking,
I'll be napping,
somewhere in Dreamland.
If you're looking,
I'll be high in a tree,
as the Sun's rays recoil
over Uncertianity's horizons.
