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An Immigrant in the New MilleniumAn Immigrant in the New Millennium
James, my hero
My favorite movie is James and the Giant Peach. This is not because the animation was cute, or because Tim Burton achieved some masterful tale that hasn’t already been told, but because I relate to it in a rather silly way. I always think that the passage which James takes, the immigration from Europe to America, was an acid trip. To be honest most of Tim Burton’s movies seem like they would make more sense on acid. You should remember this comes from a well-educated person on the program D.A.R.E. (Drug Abuse Resistance Education), which I am sure most public schools instilled in the late nineties or early two thousand. Somehow James is my idol because he takes this passage very calmly. Even when faced with terrible situations, large spiders in floating peaches, James has a smile on his face.
I also remember smiling while I was taking my passage to America. On February 17th, 1999 I boarded a plane with my mother and brother,
7th May '09Pass through me like I'm not there
sing for me like I care
All I want to see in truth is
All the burdens that I bear
Get rid of this irony
Let my mind be endlessly
at peace let it be restfully,
asleep dreams can't haunt
me and I will never weep
let me stop right here.
29th April '09Every time the needle touches my skin
A sad memory awakens within
Touching my mothers dead hand
As ink goes in and blood comes out then.
The pain is what I wanted, it hides true
Things unwanted. Give me the clue
I seek about a time past due
Empty thoughts not near, though
My skin is dead, I'm not afraid to taint it's flow
With burning memories, throw
Through closed doors I once locked so tight.
After the sting of lotion seeps in
and blood dries bitterly on my skin,
After pain rejected from within,
Beauty marks wounds I would open again
My back curves, twists, bleeds,
With repent, I fear sinful deeds
I have no regrets for. Needs
Are much more intense under tortured flesh
I breathe new, I feel new, Every Time
My fingers run over engraved signs
O beauty I am in awe, I am at peace
I feel myself reborn, my flesh not my own
Who can truly understand how good it
is to feel a steady hand
Carving art that moves, breathes, feels. Bend
The rules to myself until I end.
EmbraceCrushed in Dreams by this weak Body
Celestial in Nightmares of pain
My thoughts Explode alone in space...
Light; a millenia away from my own true Wish.
Where, o where that Nebula Lies
That Heaven I've been searching for.
Only in the place between Time and Movement,
Do I see some of my Improvement.
As grains of Sand go by, in the Time glass
My Mountain turns into an ant Hill
My Fiord into a prairie, but no matter.
The goal, challenge, I will always
Touched, but never Embraced.
FilthI got rid of a lot of things,
Small stuff, big stuff, things that keep memories.
I trashed old photos I burned old stories.
I even deleted past history.
This one time I broke that vase,
Then I lost a bracelet,
I'm a disgrace.
I threw out laughter; I threw out tears;
I shedded clothes; I burned fears;
I forgot gifts most dear.
But I haven't been able to get away,
In my mind all that stuff stays.
All these things gone,
But the images of them will forever be strong.
I can wash away the filth any day,
But the dirt will still stay.
the cavethere is nothing in this place.
so empty smoothness surrounds me always,
I'd rather try and catch my breath
silently by myself.
some days I wish for this place
others hatred turns my anger to grace.
I crave the freedom no one knows
but then the loneliness overthrows,
all my common sense is gone
but then it's replaced by someone.
my hands always cold
thin blood runs old.
I wonder when this cycle will stop
will they ever change the clock.
please try to understand
I'm at odds with my own brain.
I just want to hide
like a child
in my mind.
Pure SinI hold back shivers when I am so close
Your fingers roaming like my mind
My skin sends warmth in a small dose
Your fingers my body they bind.
It is silly, like two kids playing
That you hide such small touches from others.
I sigh because later I know I will be the one crying,
Trying to hide feelings and smother everything that bothers.
Yet we meet at the same place,
Touches feel even better
Kisses I can only await.
I sigh after and leave full of regret
I will never tell you
Any of these things, because I know then
I will relinquish my heart
And have it crushed.
I cannot recover from you.
Defeat already near.
I push these thoughts away in fear.
ThreeSometimes long ago,
When the grown was covered in white snow,
I left this place in my mind,
And traveled the world through my own ways.
I got no where really
Then someone showed me a map.
She decided to tag along
But I said the road might be too long.
I carried her on my back,
but soon she got really strong,
And now and again she carries me along.
Then when the snow was melting,
we both met another,
one weak tall thing
That we thought we might break.
Instead she surprised us both
and she shattered our worlds.
But we kept on walking
with no where in the world.
When the rain was pouring
We found shelter.
When one was hungry
Food came about.
Somehow I remember,
but yet I forget how often we did fall.
There at the edges of my mind
I still like to think about the time
when we smiled so bright,
when the world was imaginary
When we didn't have to say goodbye.
And now and Then
We say hello again.
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
Stranger's funeralUnder the clouds
Under the rain
Staring at the coffin
At a stranger's funeral
We're all alone
Feeling the storm
But not the pain
For he's but a stranger
And the graves around us
Are just there
Keeping us company
During this empty moment
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be part of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
To the Boy Who Likes PoetryHe was a maze of metaphors
but she didn't mind
getting lost in him
raising a warrior never was an easy jobi.
when i was a child i would
sit on the porch in the rocking chair and watch
the sky fall and the ground flood -
safe on my wooden throne, i'd call out
amid the thunder that
it would never pull me to the sky, away from
the home i'd always known; when the storm
would cease i'd stand triumphant
over fallen soldiers, lying
like stained glass and shimmering, rippling --
when i was older
i stood in kitchen and watched you
bake, fingers drumming to the beat of a
war-drum you never could hear -
and you'd tell me stories of sleeping beauties
while i read about the knights
who risked their lives, got angry at the girl --
you taught me how to be
a lioness when you realized this girl would
never be a queen. i was made to rule, but not in
robes, made to claw my way
out instead of sit and watch the fight -
my throat ached to sing
a shout of victory, my skin itched to dance
in a triumphant haze as charcoal painted
the night alive --
and now when thunder shakes
the ground i count its be
Flesh rebels against flesh.
Pulsing, throbbing, giving way
To the soul escape.
Red everywherecovering the wound
The new scar. Slightly nauseating
To see your inner self.
More importantly, the pain is sharp.
Sudden as it receds, it begins
Anew. Waves, new waves, of fear.
Waves washing over, like the shore
Being washed over, carved
Away by the ocean.
Every new fear takes away something
From the soul, only later being
Though sometimes the feeling is
Refreshing, it is always
Reminiscent of past mistakes.
What, if anything, does it
Accomplish? The person grows
Smaller in hope,
Larger in despair. Then death, suddenly,
Subtly, invites the cold wind.
Oh, how I miss the blood,
The wound! Oh, how I miss
My soul, breathe it in me once
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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