Amber's Poetry

This is a page for my poetry YAY!!! moi=[scars of winter rain]
i will probably be adding more poems every morning, since i have writing workshop every week morning first period.
as always, constructive critisism is welcome, actually, i want it. i want to learn everything i can about being a better writer. and writing workshop has helped me a lot.
but constructive critisism isnt just saying "oh, that sucks" that is critisism, yes, but its not very constructive.
read on my friends...
enjoy

---

What DO I Want?


the thing i dont want
is for you to show up at my window
like you used to before

the thing i dont want
is for you to climb in like jack-be-nimble
like you can do anything your little heart desires

i dont want to hear your voice telling me i'm stupid
and i dont want your voice making those words sound educated
like you've been through college five times

i want you to dissapear
be gone from this creul world that's already too small for you
since your nose is growing

you're too much, you know
you make it seem like everything you say or do is justified
i dont want to hear it

you make it seem like every word you say should be sacred
blessed and praised in a temple
where only you preside over everything

i dont want a part of it
like i really didnt want a part in that french class
you're just as infectious as that language

creeping into my brain and making me think about you
like 'moi et toi'
dont ever make me thing 'moi et toi' ever every again

je tu deteste,
comprende?
you better.

i dont ever want you to look at me with those soft eyes of yours
ever ever again
they make me want to tell you you're not cute
dont try the puppy eyes

i dont want to ever think about the way your words used to make me feel
like i could fly high above you
cast a shadow over you
and fly away to somewhere so far away you'll never find me

i wish i could fly away
leave you behind in the dust of my escape
clinging to the existance that is you
the existance no one wants to talk about anymore

i wish i could hurt you
like you've hurt me
like you're nothing but just another fish in the pond
moving on to the next one
reel it in
and smack it in the face with a sharp rock

---

[this one is a different version of "What DO I Want?" I revised it during wrting workshop yesterday, and its much much better.]

What DO I Want?

The thing I don’t want
is for you to show up at my window,
like you used to before.
When things seemed kind of okay…

The thing I don’t want
is for you to climb in like jack-be-nimble,
like you can do anything your little heart desires.
Even if the cops tell you you’re wrong.

I don’t want to hear your voice telling me I’m stupid.
and I don’t want your voice making those words sound educated,
like you've been through college five times,
Though I know you barely made it out of high school.

I want you to disappear,
be gone from this cruel world that's already too small for you,
like you bend outside of the mirror of time,
since your nose is growing.

You’re too much, you know.
You make it seem like everything you say or do is justified.
You had a reason for going with her…
I don’t want to hear it.

You make it seem like every word you say should be sacred,
blessed and praised in a temple,
where only you preside over everything.
You know I don’t pray to any GOD.

I don’t want a part of it,
like I really didn’t want a part in that French class,
you're just as infectious as that language.
I sit in that class everyday and listen to you whine…

Creeping into my brain and making me think about you
like 'moi et toi'
don’t ever make me thing 'moi et toi' ever every again
Moi doesn’t need toi to exist.

Je tu deteste.
Comprende?
You better.

I don’t ever want you to look at me with those soft eyes of yours ever again.
They make me want to tell you you're not cute,
don’t try the puppy eyes,
you need brown eyes for that.

I don’t want to ever think about the way your words used to make me feel.
Like I could fly high above you,
cast a shadow over you.
Now I want to fly away to somewhere so far away you'll never find me

I wish I could fly away,
leave you behind in the dust of my escape,
clinging to the existence that is you.
The existence no one wants to talk about anymore

I wish I could hurt you,
like you've hurt me.
Like you're nothing but just another fish in the pond…
moving on to the next one,
reel it in,
and smack it in the face with a sharp rock.
Just to see it wriggle and writhe

---

This Is the Place We Met...


i could feel the ground slipping out from beneath us,
there was something eerie about the darkness that slipped with it
we had been driving for what seemed forever,
but i knew that it wasn't

staring out the back window i didn't know what to think
i didnt know what was going to happen.
my mom seemed to be the one who understood better than me where we were going
even though i knew the sould perpose of the drive

the sun was up, i had problems keeping my eyes open
but we pulled into the parkinglot and there was some sort of life breathed into me
like someone had poured cold water on me, but i was soaked dry
yes, yes, pitiful

truely pitiful
as we walked into the building, i was shaking, i had never been here before
i had never thought i would laugh thinking back on this story
telling it to my friends, i try to leave this part out...

there he was, standing there like he felt out of place as well
he looked so different from the pictures i had seen
the only thing that was the same were his blue-green eyes and ponytail
he was not what i had expected

when i tell this story... they laugh at me
but i'm not offended
i was at first, but now even i laugh

i met my dad at taco bell

---

More Than Meets The Eye


it was fifth grade, i remember,
he was sitting next to me, my best friend in the whole school of frenchtown
not saying that there were so many people there anyway
my only friend
the only person i could talk to
and trust
Dylan Mcpeek, we used to just call him Mcpeek
there were two Dylans in our class, Mcpeek and Hartpence
we called them both by their last names.
Mcpeek looked the way his name sounded,
he was a geek
a dork if you will
but the day he left, he took off his glasses
for the first time
and wiped his eyes on his transformers hoodie sleeve
Dylan Mcpeek, more than meets the eye...
it was fifth grade

it was six years later
i hadnt payed him any mind since the day he left
he was a memory but that was about it
i remembered he used to play tic tac toe
against himself
and sit alone during lunch
but of course, so did i.
he was a fading memory that i hadn't thought about in years
a name, i guess...
Dylan...
no... Mcpeek.
that was what we called him, i think.

myspace... i love myspace
i got a random message from someone i wasn't friends with,
called himself "D-Monic"
interesting...
i opened the message and in huge letters, this is what it said,
"guess who...
Its Dylan Mcpeek!!!"
i couldnt breathe, i know that
i fell off my chair, im sure
the picture looked nothing like the Mcpeek i knew
the picture was tall and thin, and long straight brown hair covered a boys eyes
over his glasses
those were the only things that were the same
those glasses
a strange braced smile had changed him so much
but im sure i've changed too.

---

What Happened?



Watching the deer graze on the other side of the swollen creek
Filled with rainwater from the past few days of storms and angry clouds
The sky has since cleared most of the way…
But there’s nothing here anymore
I can still see the grass, the rocks, and the trees
The water is there and the roots of the trees still grow around the cave in which I sit
Sheltered from the harm of the growing world
But there’s nothing left
The water running over the rocks cuts off the way back to the path
My feet are already wet
The air is cool and calm down here
The wind currents can’t reach in their curvy fingers
Leaves ride by on the waves of the water
Still green and enjoying they’re white water rafting
One by one they shoot over the rocks and scatter
Every which way, away from each other
Reaching veins and stems out for their tree mother’s to save them
But nothing can save them
The grey light of the still cloudy sky comes through the cracked root roof
The cracks where never there before
They were thick and strong, like the tree was too once
But the cracks are getting bigger and bigger every time I visit
Maybe I shouldn’t visit anymore
The place i held once as sacred now holds a sense of foreboding
Thorns growing ominously through the cracked roots
In thick spirally vines
Bringing the aura of darkness a little closer to Hell
Rocks move under my bare feet
They were never this loose before
They’re quiet rush alerted the deer across the water
They’re ears pricked up and their tails did the same
Each one leaving in a streak of white and then they were gone
All but one
A buck, his antlers a bit too large for his head,
He stamped his hooves on the rocks and snorted
The rocks moved again
His snort was louder
This was there territory now.

---

Secret Holder


desks and untidy lockers
holding the secrets within
theres nothing like a school
where trust runs a little thin

where around the halls they walk
lean up against the wall
but one rumor starts, they fall apart
then everything starts to fall

like sticky flypaper for truth
slung over my shoulder everyday
my messanger bag is with me
and hides my secrets away

i never show them to anyone
unless the situation calls
they always ask, but never know
i dont give answers to dolls

i love my bag while i have it
its always there as a hideaway
i can store myself inside of it
and in the darkness i'd shy away

they all roam the halls
thinking too much into life
if they only had their own messenger bag
they wouldn't bother with the strife

just close the top with the velcro
put the strap over your shoulder
no one bothers to look at you
while you're your own secret's holder.

---

Nobody

Nobody hates you and noone calls you names,
nobody is your enemy and nobody cares
when you have faults.
You're beautiful with your silky hair,
and white smile.
Your seductive, smoothe eyes and perfect nose.
You're statuesque, like a monument to a goddess of L.O.V.E.
Nobody loathes those perfect curves ,
taking pictures out of a magazine
filled wiht volleyball models,
and girls in bakinis
could slightly compare to you,
        Perfect You.
Nobody looks in disgust as you walk by,
flaunting your perfect makeup and beauty.
But,
walking by me, I know you see it...
         I am Nobody.

---

Talking To the Walls Again...


I am the thing you talk to,
the only thing that will listen.
When your life seems out of place,
you tell me things you sometimes haven't yet admitted to yourself,
and I have seen things you haven't about you.
You love the ones who cause you grief,
and you hate those who try to love you...
try to get you to notice them.
Pushing them away,
with an annoyance unlike the ones from siblings.
I saw your first kiss,
it was rough, quick and awkward,
though afterwards you denied everything,
only the two of you would know, no ones saying a word...

You have never given me a name,
just the plain white existence you talk to
when everything else seems futile.
You cry yourself to sleep at night,
wishing you were someone else,
wishing you could close yourself up tight.
You're a ball of secrets that you wont talk about...
but why do you trust me so much
with all these secrets you'll never tell,
locking them up once your through with me
never hearing them take wing again.
Why do you trust so thoroughly,
never thinking twice about telling me what's paining you?
Or is it just because you don't see me?

---

"I'll Be There For You, These Five Words I Swear to You."


Last time I heard this song I was in your arms
Feeling like the world could come at me from all sides
And I take it down with one arm behind my back
It was playing on your radio while I sat
Between the passenger and the driver side seats
Squished between you and your best friend
But I didn’t mind the closeness
We were sitting in my driveway
I was dead, all three of us knew it,
It was 11:45 and it was pitch black
My mom had said to be back by ten.
You leaned over and opened the passenger side door
“get out.” You smirked at Alex
He glared back, but did as you said.
Your arm found its way back around me
“this song makes me think of you.”
Was all you said, and it was done
Like some sort of glue, it bound this song and me
Like we were joined at the hip or something
Everywhere I went, the song would be playing in my head
Every time I came home from school I would be singing it
And I never thought I would come to hate it so much.
I remember Alex pounding on the window
Saying that my mom was calling his phone and I better get inside
The first time it became our song
I didn’t even listen to the whole thing
And now… looking back,
I’m glad I didn’t
Because the words were a lie and the world is coming at me
From all sides
And there’s nothing I can do about it.

---

Duct Tape My Heart Back Together Safety Pins and All

A broken heart is easy to mend,
A litle stitch here, some tape there.
It'll hold for sometime,
But only for a little while.
How do you heal a broken heart
Without the ugly scars left behind?
How do you make everything all better
When the tearing's never stopped?
How do you smile knowing
You're bleeding on the inside?
And how do you listen to people complain
Their lives are shit,
Their lives can't go on,
But you've got this infection inside you.
This organ that beats,
And with every beat a stitch tears apart.

---

Christmas Wish...

People ask me, "What do you wnat for Christmas?"
I never really know...
I think and I think.
Materialism is the only thing right now,
this time of year is taking orders from the selfish,
"I want that."
"I want this."
Even when i think, I can never find the answer.
But this year, I know.
All I want for christmas is your smiling face,
for you to tell me that everything is alright,
that nothing can hurt you
now that you're home.
Your nature has roughened,
but I know you were scared on that night,
the last night i saw you, when you hugged me.
"I'll be home soon, little sister,"
you said.
It was the first time in six years
that I had seen your face.
It hadn't changed much,
though you had.
Solid and dense were the only words for the change,
but I walked up to you,
afraid you had forgotten my face,
and tapped your shoulder.
I didn't know it would be the last time
I would see you,
before you left for war.
So this Christmas,
put a bow on your forehead,
and step into the light of my tree.
All I want for Christmas
is you safe home.
     And for next Christmas...
Don't leave me again...

---

Oranges


That gum, the citrus kind.
The stuff that everyone says that they hate,
but they chew it anyway.

When my grandmother cleans the house,
the scent floats through the rooms.
For some reason thats all i can smell for weeks afterwards

Burts Bees moisturizing lotion,
when it gets slabbed all over my sisters arms and legs,
she overdoes it sometimes.

It smells like the color orange,
like a burst of strange out-of-season fireworks,
like pumpkin feilds instead of strawberry ones.

My little brother, just turned three,
its his favorite for everything
like soda and sherbet,
lollipops and hard candy.
It smells like his mouth after he brushes his teeth.

Like a hospital bed,
scrubbed clean with every type of cleaner you can find.
most of them are specially scented,
for some reason, they all smell the same...

[this one sucks hardcore, but oh well...]

---

Envy


Green is the color of your eyes... wide and full of tears, nothing escapes them, not even my split-second frown.
The color of the hills when the spring rears its head into the opening of the world,
and spreads over the land like gangrene on a gashed wound.
Spreading through eyes and hearts like a disease,
smelling sqashy and damp,
like moss on a wet rock in the dead of july, when the water runs over your legs,
and feels like heaven.
Or at least pergatory.
Its not hell anymore, not in the blistering heat.
Walking through the water,
feeling the green stuff between your toes
making sucking noises every time you move your toes.
Green.
Green is the color of envy, wishing you were blue,
or yellow,
or red,
anything but green.
Hating the fourth color of the rainbow
jealous of the other hues and happy shades of the other colors.

---

Ms.Keiper


Strutting around the front of the room,
it wasn't fair she had more energy than me.
There was something about her,
made me look forward to her class.
From her energy came a certain light,
a certain power only she could put into class...
Of course, there was a certain amount of energy needed
just to pass,
I had enough.
And when she talked about Mic Jagger she came to life,
like the candle flame had gun power thrown on it.
When she left,
it was sad,
but she was so spontaneous about it,
I felt bad saying i didnt want her to go,
she had so many plans for her future.
Shes gone,
and I havent spoken to her since,
but I will never forget her lessons,
and the way she taught me thing,
like I was worth more than crap, and I could do it.

---

[i wrote this when i was seven, okay, S.E.V.E.N! so dont be hatin!!!]

i'm riding on a cantalope and i'm bringing an antalope for a snack, i think i'm a little mixed up, you know...
cuz what if the antelope eats the cantelope?
then how will i ever get back?

[pwn3d! you weren't that cute when you were little were you?
lol]

---

Awkwardness


The awkward stages…
The time when you know you want to
But you don’t know if you should
You want to hold the hand in your reach
But you cant get your hand to reach that far
You want to wrap your arms around the figure within your grasp
But you cant get your arms to constrict
They become weights dragging you down
Dragging you to unhappiness
Where they leave you stuck,
With heavy arms and an uncertain smile
Whenever they look at you
You want to look back
But your eyes cast away, looking at the floor
Everyone know you want to hug them
The way you look at them with a long face
No smile
No frown
Just testing to see if it’s the right time…
Its not, it never is…
There's always something about them that makes you smile
Though you can never pinpoint what it is,
And no matter how hard you try, whenever you figure it out
You can’t tell them…
The words escape you.
The awkward stages, when you talk easier online
Then in person
When you think to yourself that there's something wrong with the way you talk
That there could always have been something better said
Or done.
The awkward phase, where you’re clumsy
And red-cheeked.
Never knowing what comes next…

---

Alice.

Wild and free,
as free as the confines of the tank can allow.
wild enough though,
streaked with blue, purple, and black,
like the irridescent winds of a cold night's snow.
blue lips tainted with sharp spikes of teeth,
your mouth opening and closing with each breath,
as though each one could be your last.
for hours i can stare at you,
take in the strange beauty you hold,
wishing i could somehow be like you.
free and careless, biting at the things that got in your way.
sometimes you atare back at me
through your golden eyes and you're green pupils
dialated crooked, like twisted footballs,
thrown in a not-so-spiral.
looking at you, loking at me,
you forget about me in three seconds.
but something reminds you,
after you look away,
to look back at me again.
Mouth still gaping
open...
closed...
three seconds go by, you look away.
attention stolen by a floating plant,
it came too close to your precious scales.


[this is about my fish, btw.
lol]

---

They Don't Laugh ay My Jokes



How can I keep trying to be as good as you
You always do so many things, I know I’m not capable of
You sing to yourself when you walk down the hall
Your voice is beautiful, though I’d never have the courage.

You do so many things, I know I’m not capable of
Like talking to strangers and joking with authority
Though your voice is beautiful, and I’d never have the guts,
Your jokes always make me laugh.

Just like talking to strangers, and joking with authority
You make eye contact with the people I’d never talk to
Your jokes always make me laugh
And for some reason… they laugh too…


[a pantoum, i just learned what that was, so i decided to use it
lol, hray for writing workshop!!]

---

The Poem No One Wants to Read


he doesnt sleep...
he stays up through the night
and sometimes he throws up.
sometimes he asks for asprin
and other times ihe settles for cough syrup

he takes one look in the mirror and shudders
bags under his eyes
the corners of his mouth turned down
into a sickened scowl

sometimes i think that there's no hope for him
but sometimes i think i should just put him out of his misery
whats the point in beating
a mostly-dead horse?

when he tries to sleep
he cries in the night
having open-eyed nightmares
about a pen and paper

trying to change him,
trying to lock him away with some hidden meaning,
like a riddle in the center of two highly detailed paragrphs
of business no one wants to read about

theres something about him, though
that makes me want to help him
to grab his hand and pull him out of his shadows
though theres barely life in him at all

he is mine,
and i love him as i would my own child.
i want to be able to cradle him while he sleeps
and feed him totato soup when he cries.

he is mine.

[this was for writing workshop as well,
we had a prompt where we had to characterize our poems
and make them as close to human as possible.]

---

Ode to Awkwardness

There was something about that day
I swear
It wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you
You were there,
monitoring the whole situation,
making sure no one got away from your hold.

it was quiet,
too quiet.
thats how i knew you were there.
sitting on opposite ends of the room
we stared at each other
you just watched.

you influenced everything we said
and you held both of our hands
so we couldn't reach each other
no matter how tight we reached
we were too far apart.

you were there,
laughing at us when our cheeks turned red
when our hearts skipped a beat
but you didnt let go
you gave us no mercy.

i never thought you could be there so consistantly
didnt you have any other victems to bother?
though your grasp made us stronger
we pulled out of your reach
glaring at you with eyes of a seven-year-old protecting their candy.

we glared you down, and you gave up.
you gave up for us,
you let us go.

and our arms could finally find each other.

---

Untiltled (for now [any suggestions?])

what would it take for you
to do for me what i have done for you?
went against friends and family
looked past the rotten scowls...
and lived?
it wouldnt take a lifetime of regret
nor would it take a second
you could smile a little,
laugh for real, not that fake squeek i hear every day.

---

Untiltled (For Now [any suggestions?])

make a deep white canvas into every pshychedelic purple shard of why.
create angry pictures about music and black passion.
investigate absurd color on an empty latex masterpiece.
fashion, after that,
would paint a sculpture that screams surreal.
sihouettes appear to break where the harmony never balanced.
wild means the green mess is electric
full of never, empty of now.
white passion never came where we have gone,
raw balance of every old experiment.
music is on the wall,
creating harmony too drunk to model,
too rhythmic to perform.
then paint your masterpiece,
only you can live.

[[wow, i think i'm on some major drug-age man.
but i like this, what about you?] ]

---

A Wake In the Night

when i first saw you, you looked like heaven to me
when you first touched me, it felt like heaven baby
i wanted you always near me, if only in my dreams
this love is ripping my heart at its seams
you never meant for this to happen, you say
but i knew he was with you from the start of that day
you held his hand, let him caress your cheek
my knees gave out, my heart felt weak
the love we shared wasnt all ours, dear
you let him share it, even our tears

a funeral to wait a funeral to die
i wake in the night a wake for the broken
the tears move on falling from the sky
i wake in the night a wake for the broken
palpatations on a high note key
insanity falls upon all that was once me
fleeing from the truth, believing nothing
though truth is known, all for something

when you first saw me, did i look like heaven to you
when i first touched you, what dd you long to do
want was there, hunger in your eyes
though all those things you said were lies
you wanted my sadness, you wanted my pain
you knew it could never be the same
you always meant for this to happen, this day
i know now, what then would have caused me to say
if you held my heart against your face
it would quiver for you and race
that love was all i thought we had
i guess to really think that was mad

a funeral to wait a funeral to die
i wake in the night a wake for the broken
the tears move on falling from the sky
i wake in the night a wake for the broken
papatations on a level past our do's
those beats there were were all for you
fleeing through the hate, knowing nothing
though the hate is known, its all for something

rotten flesh devoured by the undead
reeks in the fires of this hell on earth
deprived of everything to the clothes off my back
everything stolen, but this hearse
ride with me one last time until we rot
we'll go on forever, never coming back to that spot

i wake in the night a wake for the broken
a wake for the broken

[holy shit im one crazed out emo kid...
ew]

---

2008



the new year might bring war
it could bring famine or it could bring murder
but i hope to god it doesnt bring more sadness.
no more sullen tears, and no more frowning
no more glazed eyes
and no more sobs.

there was so much sadness,
enough tears to quench the thirst of an army
so much madness,
enough screams to put away a mob of crazies
and enough incoherant mumbling
to make a culture shy away.
no speaking, no comforting

there was always something wrong with this place
this land where you could cry
wipe your tears on your sleeve
and have no one even look your way.
no one pat your back and tell you its alright.
no sighs from others
no helping hands from strangers.
no one to look at you when you cry for help,
into the blistering wind
of the dying world.

---

They Wanted A Hero of Time, They Got ME


last night was a bad one,
i love playing my Legend of Zelda,
but i think i love my sleep too.
weekends are hell
staying up until five then sleeping till noon
only, on weekdays, time isnt that lenient
up at five thirty,
in the car by six fourty-five,
then to school, where im forced to think and do work
against my will
just do the math problems,
shove your brain on the floor so we can step on it
then go home
do your homework
and grab your Twilight Princess.
play till the headlights shine a light over the walls
and quicky shove the gamecube against the wall
and pray you saved somewhere close.

yeah...
those are good days
but im usually dead tired in the morning
after my mom goes to sleep
the gamecube comes out again
and Twilight Princess makes a comeback
im killing stuff with my sword and morphing into a wolf
until the wee hours of the morning.
im not really smart...
maybe thats why my grades suck?

---

The Girl Who Loved Wild Horses


i would run along the beach, looking majestic, all day
if i could
something inside me would tell me to run
leave the sand behind me
and just run.
like something is trailing behind me, weaving through the sand clouds
spiraling in a feild of blurred vision.
there would be wind
the thing i hear next to the crashing waves and my hoofs on the wet sand

whatever's trailing me would fall behind
i would run so fast i wouldnt have to worry about my hair in my face
or my tail whipping me,
they would fall behind with the assailents that i imagined close behind.

you could hear my cry from the waters edge
and i'd shake my head if you tryed to break me,
buck you off with creul intentions
only the creulest from the wild here.
running wild
calling wild
no one could ever break me.

---

translucent lights, paterns of silver on red rock
rippling through the seasons that try to make it change form.
its swirling, ever changing surface
taking new life with every breath
making a beautiful glaze over everyting it touches,
soaking things through to the bone

---

She With The Deadly Bite

the sounds of the electric guitar
reverberate through the floor and walls,
the amp burnin a hole through the floor,
a vision of all that could still be
all that was, all that never was
everything that was destroye, and everything you stole.
the sounds of that electric guitar
fill me with a sort of fear
like anysecond it can turn into a ticking time bomb,
like anything i do or say
can turn the faces of those i care about into a mask of grotesque hatred
like the one you put on in my mind
when i tell you all the things i really wanna say...
the sounds of the electric guitar
make me restless inside
make me want to scream
like it was never over the day you ended it
like it was never started when the gun pointed at your temple
not even fucking then
did you scream...

---

the wind beat against the walls
made them shake like they were made of cardboard
instead of plaster and wood.
the howling in our ears awoke a new sense of fear
the fear that left us cowering in the corner
shaking and quivering in each others arms.
its so hrad, you know,
not knowing how long it'll take for the walls to give out
for our hopes to give out with them
and for us to be sucked into the oblivion of the swirling monster above us
it'll pass over,
was all they had said
not giving us time to prepare, nor the chance to doubt
that we would be okay.
were not okay

---

Middle School All Over Again

To be completely honest, I hate Listening to you
Listening you your problems, for hours at a time
You talk about yourself that’s all you ever do

Don’t you ever want to listen, let me talk, its nothing new
But listening to you is like sprinkling a wound with a lime
To be completely honest I hate listening to you

I don’t know how I could tell you, you don’t have a clue
telling you my problems are balancing on a dime
You talk about yourself that’s all you ever do

I wince when you speak, if only you knew
your problems make me angry, almost just like they’re mine
To be completely honest I hate listening to you

If I have a bad day, you make yourself out to be blue
but the way you complain make you sound like your nine
you talk about yourself that’s all you ever do

Do you know the things your problems put me through
no one to listen when things aren’t quite divine
To be completely honest, I hate listening to you
you talk about yourself, that’s all you ever do

---

This Forest Has No Future

I feel sad when I look into the forest
Trees and rocks without a future
eventually turning to ruble in my yard

My window goes right out to my yard
a perfect view out into the forest
It will disappear into my future

I cant guarantee this place a future
This slowly dying forest
the colors dimming each year away in my yard
Hoping the yard wont take the forest from its future

[.:”~*^*~”:]

---

The Rollarcoaster of Times With You

It was fun the first time
I suppose
the track slipping away beneath us
the cart shakes below
everything is in motion
and I cant try and breathe
the only thing I want to do
is jump out and run
just run away
and not look back
I cant look back at you
though everything you taught me
was something I can use
and all the things you left me
were things that I can teach
it might have been fun the first time
maybe...
but i'm never doing it again...

[if you can tell me what this is about, then i think i'll be your best friend
cuz i wrote it to mean something else
but i dont think you can tell ><]

---

Nightmares Turn To Dreams
sometimes, in dreams,
i see the faces of the people i love
bloodstained and horrorstricken
crying and screaming
they stare at me with sadness
and they fall before me
with your face, smiling behind them
they're dead at your feet
their blood stains your cheeks
and your teeth stay white
against the red streaks
night after night
i watch them fall to your blade,
your bullets,
and your torture.
their blood on the floor,
as you walk towards me,
homocidal grin still on your face
forced awake
blinking into the darkness.
night after night,
i watch them die,
the horror...
but the bullet hole through the head...
the smile on the face behind,
is no longer a smile,
but an appologetic, bloodstained grimace.
that night
he saved me.
the night i almost folded to you,
the bullet
and the shock on his face
as he held the gun to the back of your head
the night he killed you
the night i watched you die
was the best sleep
since you left

---

Clarity

we write the words so we dont have to speak
all of these lines
all of these words
who would know when we spoke them out loud
all the feeling is gone.

all the feeling loses color
turns to black and white
all the black then turn to grey
its giving up the fight

fighting too hard for innoccent glory
who knew they'd want it so bad
something that they've never tasted
something more then they've ever had
something more then innoccent glory

give to what you dont know
feel it move and writhe inside you
not knowing who to tell
its something you never kmew
something more then innoccent glory

the innoccence is lost
the battle now, is over
the glory died in your hands
when you decided your life was over

---

Snowflakes and Flagpoles

Meet me at the flagpole,
It's quarter after three.
Help me feel less alone
I know they hurt you too.
They question your pained expression,
Laugh as the bruises
Define on your arms and chest.

Looking up into the windows,
Classrooms we shared and redefined boredom.
Those florescent lights we sat under
And tried to stick pencils
Into the soft tile of the ceiling,
Together.

Meet me at the flagpole,
Quarter after eight.
While you waited, warm in your down jacket,
I had on four sweaters,
But both our breaths clouded around us
Like carbon copies of how I wish I could be
Free form, flowing, far above here.
Perch atop the flagpole
And drift away,
Like the sighs of sixth graders,
Crowded in front of a horror movie,
Your hand that I grabbed out of fear,
Wide eyed and hearts racing.

Meet me at the flagpole,
Quarter after three.
Seven days together
Wasted in fears and tears.
I told you I didn't cry
When I watched it
Of course I did,
Behind straight-cut bangs,
Slightly red at the ends from last month's pink.

Meet me at the flagpole,
Your last quarter after eight,
Your last smile under these florescent lights.
Looking up into age dusted windows I remember
Snowflakes of cut up paper,
We used to think they were beautiful.
Now they're just gaudy and square,
Only adorable because of the age
Of the hands that held the scissors and cut them.
The age we once were together.

---

RE:Snowflakes and Flagpoles

I cry like a fifth grader,
the fifth grader you knew.
my hands shake too much to write
and its all because of your words.
you take something so simple
turn it into something great
and it leaves me with nothing to say.
when i told you it was so easy to make me cry
i didnt think you would succeed so thoroughly.
those simple words were just that...
simple,
yet memories come tearing back
your hands in your pockets
looking off intot he snow.
yet all these things ive always remembered,
now that your here
they mean so much more.

I cry like a fifth grader
the fifth grader you knew,
my eyes are blurry
and i cant see the lines.
like coloring dinosaurs with tickle me pink crayons
and eating frosted cheerios out of a ziplock bag.
coloring never-in-the-lines
with colors of unknown origin.
im left with nothing to say.

you were always my sunshine
i was left, once, in darkness
but its always darkest before the dawn.
your high in my sky, sunshine,
floatnig like the clouds.
and here i am...
crying like a fifth grader,
the fifth grader you knew.
im a sucker for the truth
im a baby still.
no matter how much im supposed to grow up
im always waiting
its always quarter after eight, sunshine.

---

Jesus Smokes Illegal Cubans

Jesus sat in his big, black Sedan,
a cigar dangling from his left hand
while his right stroked his long black beard,
pondering the next big plan for the human race.
'They've turned this place into something to be loathed,
why bother making things better?'
His dark eyes wandered around,
taking in the sad sights around him.
Old, dilapidated pumps, only two of them,
an almost empty snack shop,
the silhouette of a trash heap of a junk yard
behind a beyond-help old garage.
Jesus’ hand fell out the open window,
flicking the ashes onto the cold, eroded pavement.
they flickered orange and blinked out,
like the planes hanging overhead.
he pulled the smoking cigar to his dark chocolate lips,
took a deep drag and flicked again.
As I watched him through the tinted window
I wondered,
"Did he make racism so he could feel
the pain a human can inflict on his brothers?"
His eyes shifted,
glancing over at me,
and he smiled, his white teeth glittering against brown skin,
seeing me through the dark, tinted glass.
I looked away, my cheeks flushing.
I watched him as we drove away onto the deserted, dark highway,
his eyes following us the whole time,
almost as though he hear me ask
the strange question the suddenly plagued my mind.
His smile told me,
"You'll learn child.
Someday,
you'll learn."
And then he was gone.

---

"I Scream Aloud Begin to Sink"

i used to think i was sure about everything before i did it
but it took me way too long to realize
sureness was just sunstatuting for curiosity
and i never knew the difference.
before you i was falling
i was almost over my head
sinking to the bottom
sinking to my death.
but now you act as my flotsam
i'm floating on the top
with you as my someone to hold on to.
you never touched the water
never learned to swim
you've never been to the deep places
or dove off into something
so heavy you drown.
I wish now that before i would have drowned in you
not all the scumbags that came before
i wish i could have said those words
and meant it
the first time
now that its so hard to speak
i'm on unfamiliar ground
im used to treading water, not standing, stable and free
not tied down by waves or tides
not sinking further and further into black waves
rolling me further and further away from solid ground.
you make me feel like i can become a mermaid
a mythical creature of freedom up to the line of the sand,
beating against the waves, and making it to the surface.
I can hold my head above the water
grow legs
and walk on land.

---

I Couldn't Stop the Bullet in its Path

he looked up at me with his soft green eyes smiling
i knew what his plans were, yet i smiled back at him
i could never look away from him.

though he was about to do something that would break my heart
i knew it may have been in his own interest
the bruises on his face were swelling
purple and black
and the red marks around his neck were beginning to look like hands
i knew it was them that were doing this to him...
i knew he had to get away.

he took my hand in his, making sure before hand that he wasnt bleeding
and stroked it with his other.
"I'll always keep coming back for you"
i nodded and smiled at him

"and ill always be waiting."

a hand on my shoulder made me realize
that visiting hours for non-family members were over
i wanted to scream and cry that he was my brother
and they were lying
i could hear the beeping of his heart and it made me strong
he was still here...

two hands on my shoulders now
casting me out into the cold waiting room,
where my mother met me with a honk from her car horn.
i didnt want to go,
but something in his pale face told me it was time to.
his faded eyes werent smiling,
i then realized,
they were begging for forgiveness.

and it was the last thing i gave him.

---

sitting in my bedroom listening to brittany spears

i cannot grow up
the thought of living alone
no one breathing in the room next to me
except maybe the cat...
cooking my own food, doing the dishes...
i like sleep t00 much, and the thought of getting up in the morning for school
already makes me want to puke
working while in college
night classes
making money to finish a life that
at the end of it
no one cares what you went through to get to where your going
into a six foot deep hole in the ground encased in wood
i think too negatively to be able to get up for work and drive there...
i havent even learned to drive yet
im terrified of the wheel and the roads
and the other people on the roads
i am not ready to grow up
on the inside im still five years old
sitting in front of the tv watching spongebob and eating popcorn
and rice crispies
listening to my mom do my laundry
witch i have to do now
and it sucks...

i cant be an adult
i can only be a kid
for the rest of my life
hell,
i still love the freaking twirly slide.
i am going to be ninty years old
and going for adventurous crawls on the grounds looking for bugs
and swinging on the swings
pretending ima bird
and going down that twirly slide
be one with the five year olds.
i refuse to grow up

---

Girl Anacronism

There are so many Cliches
I could use to chop you down,
No more games, boy.
I could say the clocks are melting,
Leaving streaks of time running rampant to the floor
soon losing all value.
The fan blades spin in two different directions,
sucking the air out of the room
and ridding the atmosphere of breathable oxygen.
But lets not talk about those cliches
because the walls are bleeding
we need to hurry.
The walls are bleeding all over the bull and the china.
My love is a red rose,
but I think yours is yellow.

---

this space is waiting for another poem to arise from my head-cavity
lmao

---

amber's writing