To Make Enemies

Cold air seeps into the deepening crevices of scab encrusted skin.
The constant ticking pecked holes into my leg that I eventually gnawed away with my finger nails.
Taking every gangrene scab and collecting until I had enough to make a scar.
Knee ache and cold sweat. I was hurting without being hit. 
My coat was my solitude, even though I was asked many times to take it off.
Three months passed like hours on a Sunday.
Guttural noises spewed hacks and hunks in the sink and the toilet. 
I recalled some lunch everyday and sometimes it was polite enough to keep it's place.
The cold found the cracks and I tried to push it out,
Drenching me in lukewarm tears.
I departed from all the comfortable and reached towards medicine. 
My friends turned to blurs and consequently into strangers.

I found
bandages,
Valium,
and wounds underneath my skin.

Relentless sting, drowning in my self inflicted acid.

Imaginable Wealth

My parents must have been rich

They color coordinated our furniture.

One chair, about three sheets, and a blanket

Stuffed with hoards of wool and quilted into unimaginable patterns.

They stretched across the sofa which had the texture of twenty camels.

The bumps made me queasy as I stretched across the sea of green.

It was the absurd taste of the wealthy.

We got rid of the sofa because of all of my pre-adolescent slobber stains.

The shirts, the pillows, the sheets all covered in my mouth liquid.

They found time from their busy lives to actually find a new home for it.

Two bedrooms and one bathroom is king’s palace.

Procrast in the Nation

Well time to get to work!
Let's check the good ol' fb for five.
Now's it's been 5, in which I mean 50.
Nice picture. Like like like. Hahaha. Like.
Meme.

Start this analysis you lazy-- this is an awesome song!
Who made this? Yo Alica check this out!
Fuckyfuckshit i need to get to work.
*I need to get to work.

Ok analysis give me your best shot
If you think that is even possible. 
Well an explanation can't physically give me a punch in the-- dammit!
Why am I talking to my paper? When I should be writing on it!
Ok, ok, ok Okay. Time to get to ESPN!

Fantasy Football is amazing and awesome and not my homework
Come on, get it together. Or don't.
I bet Grace has all her homework done.
I wonder what Grace is doing?
Does she even understand-- not the point!

Dubstep! Take me away!
(WUBWUBWUBWUB)
Ok that helped with... nothing.

What have I even accomplished?
I not going to college!
Yes I am, just write this goddamn analysis!

Experimental Education

All at once his hands, legs, and mind start to work simultaneously and he is frozen in place
Conflicted, scared, motivated. He wants to take on the world.

He wishes for a day to teach without using a text book, pushing beyond the classroom to a world that for many is the great unknown.

He travels in search of understanding, to understand a calling.

Worldly.

He takes a break, but he remains with what is familiar. He teaches.

The children that he meets have feelings, stories, and complex lives.

To them he is gold, and they gleam when they see him.

He wants to be revolutionary not statuesque

“What is my role? Why must I know?” His mind runs

Presenting now, he hopes to show his students a concept that he still does not fully understand.

But his students only see simple solutions to complex problems.

Most will see the word ‘poverty’ and think the only solution is ‘money’

Living in a state of being where Champagne replaces the water

Goose liver is an appetizer

And where we say fish, they ask from which region?

That’s not their fault; the clouds are just too close to their ears

It is pure, raw, and unadulterated isolation.

His gilded cover cracks and he picks up his pencil

His curriculum, his action plan, and his blueprint all churn in his cranium.

Unfrozen.

Fred Sleeps In

There once was a boy named Fred.

Who never got himself out of bed.

His mother and father both tried and cried, but they slowly realized he was dead.

Now Fred was from Nantucket.

Where everyone was kicking the bucket.

The people moaned and groaned when they found out Fred was not so lucky.

They had a funeral in two days.

When Fred was laid down in his grave.

There was no hope for a wish or a joke to bring back Fred’s happy ways.

Fred lived for the people of the world,

And he was never afraid to express his views.

When the president heard of his tragic death he made a statement just because he could.

Then they had to tell Justine.

They thought Fred and her were friends.

Turns out Justine had feelings to grand but she never had the chance to tell him.

So Justine lays awake at night.

Because the thought of Fred gives her the frights.

And she will never get him out of her head again until the next Friday the 13^th.

So she will wait with a heavy head,

And slowly wake and arise from her bed .

Soon after her chants and rituals are done, that’s when she will be reunited with Fred.

If My Eyes Were Microscopes

Joyce Sutphen writes about how normal things that do not affect us grandiose manners actually do change us. She depicts some very mundane events, yet she is able to write about them through and alternative lens that grants her the ability to see on a smaller scale. She shows that even the smallest things in life have great significance. In her poem “The Day” she writes that many great things have happened on particular days, however your birth is significant because of the work that you have put in. She writes, “On this day in nineteen forty-nine, you were born, and though it took you many years to do good work and keep in touch, you did”. On an even smaller scale, Sutphen analyzes how her behavior changes when people say the Alphabet in her poem “Semi Literate”. She writes, “Q-r-s was curious, that was certain, t-u-v I liked because it reminded me of a little cabin by a lake where waves crashed on rocks all night”. The significance of the way of how the alphabet is spoken causes her to reflect on memories that she is fond of. She finds that in the faintest of ideas; significance can cause oneself to reflect on fond moments. “The Things You Did Not Write On Your Resume” drives these ideas home as Sutphen reflects on her abilities as a mother. She points out her importance as mother as though not seen by society as normal. She writes, “How often you got up in the middle of the night when one of your children had a bad dream, and sometimes you woke because you thought you heard a cry but they were all sleeping”. In essence she claims that her skill set as a mother is just as significant as her working skill set. In conclusion, Stuphen uses her words to depict importance however mundane. She shows that all things can lead to behaviors that can even cause nostalgia. Her poetry shines on areas already thought to be discovered and reanalyzes them.

Ideas from reading

When writing "Closed System" I thought of a persona that I wanted to be. This persona happened to be me, but I wanted to sound more like a story teller. My voice and style in this poem is very different from the poem "[Untitled]". The poem was originally was supposed to be about my eagerness when learning about new people; mainly girls I was interested in. I decided to step back from that and realize why I am so eager to learn about the "real" person. 

Revision of Poem

[Untitled]

I feel like I want it.

Excuse, me I need it.

Give me you. Don’t hold back.

You are amazing, I am guessing.

A bird does not hold back its passion.

He awakes early and sings with all its might

He voices an opinion everyone hears but no one listens too.

Then I grab the .22 and drop the sucker out of the tree.

His passion means nothing to me, he is just noise.

So what about my passion?

Does she really hear me? Or does she grab her gun?

REVISION

Closed System

 

The world gave me knowledge and in return I gave my service

I served the knowledge and it granted me happiness

The world granted me knowledge.

Many of friends were granted the knowledge as well, and they were happy.

However, the world was not fair.

The knowledge was given to the unwise and they abused its power.

Or at least that is what I thought.

With the knowledge came envy

The world gave me the gift of jealousy

The knowledge soon became unclear and I misunderstood the world.

I wanted to misuse the knowledge and still remain happy.  

 But I could not disobey the knowledge.

Nature became my teacher.

I learned of the world before knowledge.

The birds who did not hold back their passion taught me how to live.

I wanted to be one with their teachings but I could not disobey the knowledge.

My friends with the knowledge seem unhappy now.

I recognize their sadness.

I see their pain.

I can never disobey the knowledge.

I have tried to disobey the knowledge and that only sends me running back.

The knowledge controls me.

I am one with the knowledge.

I can never be without the knowledge.

I… can…never…be…without…the... no