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I know this music sucks, but I think you're just going to have to put up with it, huh? I'm not much of the poet, actually I suck, but I thought I'd share a few poems I wrote. Take note that some of the stuff isn't in prose by I changed it to sentence form to save space. The two short poems really suck, don't they? If you write poetry please post it on the message board on my homepage and I'll put it on this page.
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ALISSA'S SECLUDED WORLD OF THOUGHTS/
Screams of frustrated waves of neglect
stars illuminate over receding tides,
shining the hopes of peace among us/
Of murky green ocean water/
Dead and browning once lustrous roses/
With unknown centers/
Remaining on a still intersection of nostalgia and fear/
Interwoven dreams of patches on quilts/
Resembling too-scared to evolve images
mangled with colorful forgotten ideas/
Things waiting to be recognized weaved with the sharp
thorns of yellow, white, and crimson roses/
Segregation of the waves of roses flowing steadily through
the cave from forgotten notes of a much-loved
symphony
Repetition of undecided nightmares wanting to be interlocked
And waiting for the thorn blanket of bountiful roses of
opportunity/
Blankets of undiscovered people of forgotten opportunity,
Amongst neglect/
Memories of the confused cave in the future and thoughts of
my secluded world/
A myriad of thorn-rosed stars of dreams of after childhood./
IN THE MIRROR/
Blue crystal eyes of fear/
Confused lips of blue/
Hands of cold, whithered wind-blown black stone counting
minutes/
Trembling knuckles awaiting the present anxiously/
Narrow feet of lavender spite/
Ankles of stick-to-itivness without defined purposes/
A contorted plethora of flesh/
As I look into the cracked silver-bordered looking glass./
TYPING MIND/
One night I learned to fall asleep listening to the sound of
fingers punching letters into a keyboard/
Familiar, whispering to me of unfinished work/
Now I fall asleep while a story is being typed into my mind/
But why the hell would I want to sleep when I could hear the
sound of fingers punching keys and creating the parallel
universe floating beneath thick clouds of confused white
stars?/
I CAUGHT MY STARS IN A BUTTERFLY NET
The rain pounded like fighting angels' wings
And when I looked up, I clung to the stars with my frozen hands,
Icicle-formed like my raspberry canes struggling in winter
My bones streaked with painful hunger,
Wit came crashing through the starving clouds,
My blank eyes radiated the bouquet of dreams the angels' wings were defending
My lost butterfly engaged in a battle.
I was frozen in time,
Doggie lay dead in a pool of blood, comforter of childhood,
As slender arms and stone hearts embody him
All my memories were seeping through in warm aqua-grey ocean water
Childhood dreams not to be recaptured until I catch them with my butterfly net in senility.
The lilacs bloomed and I looked out of my window
Carrot sticks from my purple plastic bowl from the garden beside the inflatable pool
Grandpa was whistling, as he came up the cellar stairs,
rake in hand at Ridge Avenue,
As I flew and lept over the lilac sky
And the star~reflecting mirrors shined,
While I slurped up the watermelon seeds in my heaven.
I ate without guilt you know!
The warmth of matzoh ball soup slides through the stars,
the chicken broth warming my tummy
My cloth-embroidered cranes neatly hang from my vanilla wall.
I grapple with the plethora of Hebrew,
Decoding my cryptic past in my lilac sky as I see it with blue eyes.
Now my blue eyes shed their silent tears as I pick the petals off my rose.
Hardly anything is left of the child I knew, now a torn soul
Because life didn't stay innocent in my butterfly net
I slowly die because it is not the same as it was,
my worn butterfly net has formed holes.
THE TABBY CAT
You are my tabby cat
The beautiful tabby I love
I show you off to anyone
Regardless of your immense size
You taught me size wasn't everything and your sweetness could sparkle from within.
You were first thing I learned to love for not being perfect in a superficial way.
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