april is the cruellest month

This isn't a poem, it's pure stream of consciousness and it's horrid, but it's the best I can do tonight.

april 8. line breaks in journal entries
does not a poem make

i can't take it anymore. i quit, i quit, i quit.
nothing is like it used to be. i quit. i don't even
know who i am anymore. i am just
making it up just making it just an actor
and they are all my props, just making it up.
just barely making it. and i
i had a wonderful poem planned
but now it's nothing lost in the blue-green depths,
crushed by waves and waves of spite,
left battered on the shore. to rot.
sometimes i forget to remember
to breathe but now
i've realized that i'm spotlighted
on stage. always (yes always) sparkle
and pop and i...am...so...tired.
i can't do that anymore. i can't be who i am
and be who they want to be and you, you're the worst
because with you i feel nothing.
i am nothing. sometimes i know
what life could be like, but
i know what it really is
i'm just making it up just making it just
an actor just an actor and i'm tired.
i'm tired. but i'm nothing.
yet.

you can't

you can cut it
horizontally or vertically
or diagonally
or any way you like
but love is love and
this isn't it.

time for visions and revisions

the rain is pouring harder now, its
droplets pounding against the window -
bam. bam. bam. bam. if i put my
head against the glass, i feel it shudder.

later, we'll take a walk, when it stops
and the water's collected in the street
(i always step in the puddles) and
everything will look pretty outside.

it always does, until the rain begins again.
because it always comes back, angrier
than before. the wind pushes it around,
tries to make into something beautiful,

like an arc of color across the sky
but it (emotion) always comes back
until i can't take it anymore. but i am
trapped, trapped, trapped. forever.

and maybe it doesn't matter. and
maybe it matters so much. either way,
i can't get out. it's pouring harder now
but there will be no rainbow in the sky tonight.

yet.

Moomars. D: I missed you. I wish our timezones were not so detrimental to our friendship! -glares at world-

I'm really relieved that 'yet' is in there, because without it I would be worried. I love you. We'll get through it. >_<

you can cut it
horizontally or vertically
or diagonally
or any way you like
but love is love and
this isn't it.

Oh, Moomars. ;C I think that there's this social view of what love is supposed to be, encouraged by fiction and poetry and movies, that never actually happens, which leaves like EVERYONE dissatisfied unless they pull away from that concept and find their own definition of love. But I really like this poem.

and maybe it doesn't matter. and
maybe it matters so much. either way,
i can't get out. it's pouring harder now
but there will be no rainbow in the sky tonight.

Less than three months, right? I'll totally visit you when you get back. <3

I really liked the imagery in that last one. And. I love you. <3

The April 7 poem is lovely, Mars. Particularly the first and last stanzas.

Cheers,
~bubbles

april 9. insecurity

o love, that you were with me now
not in body (though i want that too)
but in spirit, then you would avow
that your words are pure and your love true.
o love, that you could say these words
and reassure my broken heart -
in my ear, sweet nothings slurred
or say, "from you i could not part"
o love, that i could let you go
and move on to the next poor soul
but i fear that it will not be so
without you i don't feel whole.
and when the time comes for love to die
i will not be able to say goodbye.

Sorry.

april 10. the 10 reasons why i liked him

1. his eyes
2. his voice
3. his hair
4. the scent of him
5. the way he gets
outraged over the small-
est things.
6. he likes to hold me
7. the way he looks at me
8. he makes me want to write poems about him
9. did i mention he kisses good?
10. how bashful he is

you can glorify anything trivial,
as long as they mean something to you.

o love, that you were with me now
not in body (though i want that too)

I know I already commented on this one to you in /person/, but I wanted to say how much I loved this line. Ahaha. ;D

the 10 reasons why i liked him

Okay, the title? I mean? Why is there a 'd' after that verb? o_o; It adds a completely different tone to the poem. Good thing I didn't skip it. =D

you can glorify anything trivial,
as long as they mean something to you.

Except does 'they' refer to the person and not the facts/list item things? ^_^
Awww, Moomars, I love you and I miss you! <3

Mars,

Thought I'd drop by and tell you what was incredibly awesome.

Obsession wrote:(a permanent spot among
the french conjugations and
shakespeare and physics formulas
and ephemeral dreams that are,
maybe, just too good
to stay) trust me, babe,

it's you.

this is war. wrote:O ugly, unclean, unspeakable ugaboo!
Your days are going, going, going, gone.
You'll become an urban legend, one who
Warns other terrors not to mess with MY lawn.

Say goodbye to your loved ones.
Say hello to the big guns.

ugaboo = awesome.



fghjkl! all of april 6. pop, especially,

pop wrote:after work
she puts on her stockings,
one leg at a time,
slips into black lace -
the kind that causes heart attacks.
face painted, eyes lined.

(l8r.)
on the dance floor

And, then, some more.

untitled wrote:what about a cherry tree?
we could plant the seed, watch
it grow into
something
beautiful. come summer, we'd
pick the fruit and make pies.
lots and lots of pies.

untitled wrote:someday, we will be old.
we will sit on the porch
and watch the fireflies,
our bones
c r e a k i n g
and the neighbors will hear our
contented
sighs.
and they will know,
in this house,
there is love.

insecurity wrote:o love, that you were with me now
not in body (though i want that too)
but in spirit, then you would avow
that your words are pure and your love true.
o love, that you could say these words
and reassure my broken heart -
in my ear, sweet nothings slurred
or say, "from you i could not part"
o love, that i could let you go
and move on to the next poor soul
but i fear that it will not be so

the 10 reasons why i liked him wrote:
1. his eyes
2. his voice
3. his hair
4. the scent of him
5. the way he gets
outraged over the small-
est things.
6. he likes to hold me
7. the way he looks at me
8. he makes me want to write poems about him
9. did i mention he kisses good?
10. how bashful he is

you can glorify anything trivial,
as long as they mean something to you.

oh-so-lovely.

Ta,
Cal.

\april 11. untitled, again

"so," you say, with that puppy-dog
look in your eyes, as if you would follow me
anywhere, "so, it seems as though
seeing and knowing are different for you."

"yes," i say. "i always knew that i loved you...
but now i see it, and it's different."

"how," you ask, touching my hair.

"well, now i can admit it to you."

"how," you ask, touching my hair.

"well, now i can admit it to you."

!!!! So. Sweet. Not even kidding, like, what the heck, Moomars? D:
Just, that little 'touching my hair' adds so much intimacy to the poem. You kind of rule my life. Marry me.

april 12. in/out

--inhale. and the world gushes,
erupts in the form of hot magma
volcanic ash and flames;
the city (labyrinthine skyscrapers, twisting
their necks toward the heavens
looking for anything just out-of-reach
or maybe just out of this world)
crumbles; now, frozen. can you
feel your lungs ache? are they on fire,
trying to hold the universe
planets, galaxies, a million shiny stars
for even just a moment?

--exhale. let it out.
sunshine filters down in patches
through the trees, the trees let
out an audible sigh of relief and
settle. the river sings. taste the air;
does it feel like honey? so sweet, and coats
your tongue with a layer of gold.
there is (must be) something here
- no, here, right here, right now - life.

apr. 13 sea people*

we danced and spun, just out of reach
of the ocean- the waves came in to
lick our ankles as we kissed.

the salt water stung my wounds, but you,
you heal every cut (and cause them too)
you took my hand and showed me all

of the endless depths. it was quiet.
the world was tucked away in blankets
and it was dark and cold, but the wet
sand felt good between my toes,
and your fingers felt good in mine.

*I stole the title from a song by Emiliana Torrini, it's there until I think of a better one.

Why haven't I commented on these yet?! D:

now, frozen. can you
feel your lungs ache? are they on fire,
trying to hold the universe
planets, galaxies, a million shiny stars
for even just a moment?

That is unbelievable. Just beautiful and brilliant and I know the feeling and AHH. <3

so sweet, and coats
your tongue with a layer of gold.
there is (must be) something here

But that is also brilliant. Like the opposite -- crinkled instead of expanded. Warmly crinkled. <3

the world was tucked away in blankets
and it was dark and cold, but the wet
sand felt good between my toes,
and your fingers felt good in mine.

o___o;

Not even kidding, I just posted my NaPo for today before coming to read yours and I totally had a cold beach and sand and toes. xD We love each other. xDD I love you.

WARNING: LANGUAGE ...apologies for the non-poem. But at least I'm writing something! =)

april 14. untitled III

you're so adorable, it's like
the sun would set and the night
fall for you (just like i did).

but that doesn't mean that i
lose any shred of dignity that i
might have had when you touch me.
it doesn't mean you can whisper
all the secrets of the universe in my ear
and my heart melts. it doesn't mean--

(oh, shit.)
you can have me
any way you like.

I didn't forget! I've just been sans computer for a week.

april 15. voulez-vous?

like, maybe your perfectly scripted lines
and whenever-you-feel-like-it phone calls
cannot be enough to make up my mind
maybe i should be more than your porcelain doll.
listen to me! if you want the girl bad enough
you need to work for it. even candy, roses
a night in bed with no sex - just love.
pure emotion is attractive, not your acts and poses.
and if you don't think it's worth the deal
kindly return to me my heart and leave.
you know all i want is anything real
so you can be my Adam if i'm your Eve.
please, convince me this is the right thing to do
'cause trust me, boy, i'm rooting for you.

april 16. my romeo

your romeo is no famous montague,
no friar, prince or dagger in view.
but he does have the most stunning eyes EVER.
the color of cafe au lait and sweet like honey,
gold coins in the irises that sparkle when it's sunny.
eyes that you lose yourself in over and over.

he isn't skilled with a sword and shield.
but oh! what his sauce pan can yield
it must be magic, nothing could taste so good -
except him, 'cause when he kisses you the world explodes,
makes you finally forget all your rules and your codes -
an abercrombie model couldn't do that, he could.

and, okay, so many girls have already been broken
and soon from this dream, you will be awoken
but the past and the future don't exist right now.
just trap this feeling in a poem out of the heart
like that picture of him on your memory card,
and forget for a moment that you're going down.

april 17. pensez

aujourd'hui, j'ai vu un chose triste.
la pluie de printemps a trempé la ville
mais tout les gens étaient trop pressés
de remarquer.
personne n'a vu les fleurs, ses levés
d'un hiver longue et froid.
personne n'a vu l'art de la rue
qui a déclaré "je t'aime!" pour le monde.
personne ne les a vu. ils n'ont regardé.
ils n'a fait que marcher

et donc mon chérie, tout que j'essaye
parler et ça: regarde. écoute. fais
attention de peur de notre monde,
c'est seulement éphémère.

april 18. untitled IV

Let me be very clear: I
want You, in Paris, knocking
over a wineglass and
laughing as the floor stains blue.

You in the meadows' grass
to touch the soft part
of my stomach; then recoil, because
that squeal could cause some
serious auditory damage.

Filling me with useless(?) facts
(like the population of Iceland,
350,000 by the way) and dirty thoughts.

I want all of You, all the time, please, be only mine?

april 19. they walk among us

i have this obsession with your voice:
it's wonderful. it's every bell chiming,
and babe, i don't even know what you're saying
but it sounds like beethoven's 9th to me.

i have this obsession with your eyes:
they're endless. mocha-hazel and pupils
that haven't seen enough yet,
to lose their sparkle. i'd give them anything.

i have this obsession with your hair:
it's beautiful. it catches on fire in sunlight,
a flame that could blind apollo that even
poseidon could not quench (but don't tell them i said so).

i have this obsession
with being in your arms.

april 20. oh

i love our tree when its branches are low
enough for us to sit on and lie, 3 words
(how many others have whispered to their lo-

vers, these three little words?)
like my star magnolia, we will reach
up and up, farther, heads lifted
hands curled awaiting some great treasure.

or just
each other.

let's intertwine together, become something
greater than our sum, so close that
no creature will be able to tell us apart.

we could be one being. there could be no "you",
no "me", sweet peach. hands clutching, heads lifted,
i'll take you inside me if (when) you lie.

april 21. or something.

could you, like, be any less ugly right now?
and i don't mean like scarred or fat or
the ugly that everyone says ugly is.
i mean like when your face is wrinkled
with lines that conceal horrible wrath (not for long).

you have a big mouth that, somehow, despite
the flames in your eyes and your hair
and your anger, can spew icicles
to freeze and break my heart
into six or seven
crystallized pieces.

i loved you, but now i hate you. or something.

Moomars! I missed you! I'll be posting a big long one like this soon, too.

you're so adorable, it's like
the sun would set and the night
fall for you (just like i did).

xD That's so cute. <3

please, convince me this is the right thing to do
'cause trust me, boy, i'm rooting for you.

As is that. I love the genuine, vulnerable feeling these last two lines especially give. n_n;

and forget for a moment that you're going down.

Fantastic closing line. Throws that whole twist on the rest of the poem.

et donc mon chérie, tout que j'essaye
parler et ça: regarde. écoute. fais
attention de peur de notre monde,
c'est seulement éphémère.

Definitely. I also think the rain at the beginning added in a lovely way to the message, because it goes on falling without noticing what it falls on, right? -thumbs up-

You in the meadows' grass
to touch the soft part
of my stomach; then recoil, because
that squeal could cause some
serious auditory damage.

CUTE!

a flame that could blind apollo that even
poseidon could not quench (but don't tell them i said so).

Ahhhh, Moomars, these are all so delicious and cute. >_<;

we could be one being. there could be no "you",
no "me", sweet peach. hands clutching, heads lifted,
i'll take you inside me if (when) you lie.

xD Sweet peach. That's cute, too. xD And the if {when} thing definitely adds that beautiful honesty to this poem...

Moomars, these are so precious.

i loved you, but now i hate you. or something.

And I also hope tomorrow is okay for you. Love you. <3