Ah, But There Are No Excuses For What I Have Done

All the same, let's not jump to conclusions.

These weeks preceding the start of school have been on heck of a ride, which is why most of my readers have assumed my death (well, so I assume). But as my seventh grade science teacher once said:

When you assume, you make an *** of u and me

 She swore in class, and our young minds were scandalized. To this day I have yet to recover....

She was kind of mean...

My past aside, I felt it only fair that I post something since I haven't posted anything for almost two weeks, I think. If I were following my blog, I would drive me crazy like that!

BUT FIRST I want to blab about school for a while, because reminiscing about seventh grade has put me on a tangent.

This being my senior year, I get to take fun classes! My schedule turned out great, because I have two hard and two easy classes every day. My schedule goes something like this:

A Days: Symphonic Band (because I don't practice enough to be in wind symphony, our school's top band), AP Statistics, AP Political Science (I must be crazy, but the subject fascinates me and taking it in college will be no easier), Creative Writing 2 (I'm Editor-in-Chief this year! Woo-hoo!)

B Days: AP Literature (I still haven't finished the summer homework... :O ), School Newspaper (our editor-in-chief isn't high this year (last year my favorite activity was listening to the EIC describe all the drugs she was taking and how she thought she was a rug once when she got high)), Cooking 2, Seminary (religious instruction, for those who don't know.)

And then there's marching band, which is a totally different story.

It was a long summer and boy does my brain need a workout! I'm taking AP Stats this year and our first homework assignment was to review some algebra II concepts. It felt like I was reading a foreign language! But I'm not worried, because although math is not my lifelong dream, it's also far from my lifelong struggle.

Speaking of homework, I need to wrap this up and chat about this in a different post, because I still haven't finished that math assignment or that summer homework.

I've deliberated about this for a while, as far as what to post, because I wrote quite a few things in the past few weeks and before that I never got around to posting. Naughty me... So as an apology for being so exceedingly tardy, here are a handful of poems on a variety of topics! Hooray!

Two Inches

The mind is an ocean about two inches deep
filled with fishes slipslidesuffocating,
mechanical spasms in the open air,
or rotting in a heap of twisted herringbonehearts,
blackblank eyes and
other suchthings.
 
The mind has storms above that shallow sea.
It reaches out coldwhitefingers
Among the half-rotted herringbonehearts
Still beating
Then lowlaughs fleeting down at me.
 
The mind is solemndark and gruesomegloom
Alone upon the sea-expanse
The corpses watch with mindless dread
As I give in, lay down my head
Slipslidesuffocating on the ground,
And with two inches wait to drown.

For once, I'm going to talk after a poem, because I didn't want to make you wait any longer. The first stanza was written on a day when I literally felt as though I was drowning inside of myself. I was unhappy and anxious and altogether not feeling well. The second and third stanzas were written during a late-night thunderstorm. Thunderstorms are excellent times to write because usually the power goes out and there's nothing else to do, but also because thunder and lightning are very emotional. In fact, if you think about it, a storm can express any range of emotion.

City Lights 

The fireflies blanketed cross the sticky flytrap strip greeted my glancing eyes.
I freed a few on my passing past by,
I wanted to watch them float,
Often alone, but sometimes in pairs,
Sets of lovebugs speeding on.
 
They stop for brighter lights than they,
And then go quickly on their way.
They’ve no time to thank me, no,
They’ve miles to go before they sleep,
And some their marital promise to keep.
 
I thought they formed fireworks on that formidable field
Of blackness. I find it strange that they would yield
Themselves up and stay there, stuck,
On the sticky stripe of dark,
Those orange-and-yellow fireflies,
 
Who pass me by, without a care,
Sometimes alone, but often in pairs.

I should have been watching the road more carefully, but city lights in the rain are so mesmerizing... (thankfully no one was on the streets when I left my friend's house on the eve of this poem).

Pool

 Blue chalk squeaks on the end of
A white pine pole leaves marks on
The cue ball clicks and rolls across
The green felt scarred and stained by
Cigarettes and coffee create a haze.
 
The balls clack together as
The game begins by breaking
The triangle explodes into a thousand colorful
Points are scored by
Sinking spirits as
Points are lost by
Scratching my initials in
The table.

 Fingers arched, I set my sites on
The eight ball thunks into the back left
Pocket filled with loose change for
The jukebox music joins the haze of
Coffee and cigarettes in the billiards hall.

I've never actually been to a billiards hall, but that's what the imagination (and movies) is (are) for! This is an older poem, but still a favorite. (I'm also not good at pool, but I can dream (and watch movies)...)