My Writing

Good Night, Seth's Room
Good night, TV, now so clean,
Good night, PC Gamer magazine.
Good night lady in the yellow dress,
Good night Athena's studio mess.
Good night calendar with the pretty ladies,
Good night book with stories of Hades.
Good night church across the street,
Good night Seth's cute Hobbit feet.
Good night coats hanging on the door,
Good night men playing craps no more.
Good night pot smokers in the hall,
Good night flowers hanging on the wall.
Good night big brown boxes of stuff,
Good night grey, nasty, dusty fluff.
Good night wall scroll of manga girl.
Good night Seth's room... Good night, world!

So much depends

upon

the feeling of a good

song

Filling me with warm

thoughts

consumed in contented

isolation.

More Like Me
It's not that I'm perfect
In fact, very far from it
But I have the desire
to have someone who knows

Someone who feels
Someone who thinks
Someone who sees things
just a little more like me.

I always find strange ones
People who look at life
through black-colored glasses
Realistic, they call it
(While I'm idealistic)
And somehow I end up
with these sad ones

They look at me and see
An easy life, a happy home
A Daddy's girl...

And when I cry
about my day,
about my troubles,
They look at me
and say

"You're so lucky.
You have it so easy.
I wish
that was all
I had to cry about."

I'm sorry if I've had a good life
and you've had a bad one
I care for you
and want you to have better things

But if what you want is empathy
all I have is sympathy
And if you want me to be
eternally happy
Why don't you strike me down
and pull me into your pit
so I can stop liking life.

Music
The words puncture
The melody soothes the wounds
The bass line rubs salt in them
His voice softens the pain
It explains so much

I hurt to hear such sweetness
It floats in and out of me
Suffering to understand the lyrics
Comprehend and then cry
Aching the content
of this
song.

You pull me towards you
One hand upon my waist, one under my chin
My knees shake with delight
Simply your touch brings a shiver to me
I don't know when it happened
All I know is you make me
utterly happy.

The Plan
Decide upon an agenda,
Plan out my entire life
Within weeks, choose one area
to focus my attention on.
Don't think about relationships,
of love and former loves
Or even silly friends:
A social life? Hah!
That should be merely in
the basement of my mind.
Think about my words
Long before I speak them
Form intelligibility,
understandable sentences.
Actions don't speak louder than words
Sayings can't be cliched.
Be an original, an independent
A spirit that thrives on challenge
Be that confident, strong young woman
Appear as the student who makes people say:
"There's someone who's going places."

i stumble thru hallways
unsure of where my feet
are taking me
dizziness pursues me
in a catastrophic race
to my fall
somehow i make it
to the class room
stomach swirling
i grab onto the nearest thing
a chair arm, a table
but i drop
to the ground,
sobbing.

In The Mirror
A roundish face
somewhat attractive
Slightly turned-up nose
Mouth quivers
when nervous
Talks too much
speaks too little
Ears hear all
but don't always listen
Eyes green and
too honest
tell you everything....
don't look in yours enough.

Dedicated to "chocolate cake"
One night I laughed until I cried
It wasn't as if I even tried
The warmth of blankets, ever so soft
A feeling felt ever so oft

We clung together to be secure
Nothing sexual, a touch so pure
A leg entwined with yours
I have no worries, nothing bores
me tonight, I could sing the highest note
Hearing the tone roll round my throat

Imagining scenes woven from our minds
Yours full of ideas of all kinds
Random tangents out of nothing
You keep going until I laugh at something

Some thing as silly or crazy
Rambling, chuckling, talking gets hazy
I spin around, ceiling disappears
Out of mind -- Gone go my fears.

Writer's Block
I'm stuck
My mind has crashed
My thoughts are muddled
The ideas aren't moving
Where did it all go?
The creativity
The oblivity
The way my words would all work
with complexity
Stop this madness
Make it cease
I cannot deal....

To Be A Real Man
The boychild was born as usual
He didn't like trucks like the rest
He hated guns and all those things
No one saw where it was going.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
What are you -- A faggot?
He liked to run, this was good.
He needed to run from the bullies
tormenting him, throwing rocks.
He ran from them screaming apologies.
They all called him fag and homo.
Everyone expected him to flirt
To go on dates and learn
about the birds and the bees
through experience alone;
To have three girls on each arm.

So he threw away his leather pants,
Put his bright shirts in the closet.
He began to go out with girls,
and learn how to be a real man,
His father pushing and shoving
the entire way.
Finally he's got a girl! everyone said.
But if we ignore the closet,
Will he have his happy ending?

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