I'm a poet and I did(n't) know it

[turkoizdog]

Yeah pretty much.


First one was written back in 11th grade after the SATs, trying to put as many SAT woulds as I could into a poem...

9-to-5 is 20-to-life
I can't imagine falling for
that insipid smile of yours,
(in contrast to
the eloquence of your tongue!)
Simplicity, brevity,
Cynicism oozes from your pores,
so calm and cool,
around you I'm high-strung.
So very Machiavellian,
with your villainous, disheveled hair,
smug grin of animosity
I want to smother.
With lips or pillow, I don't care
cuz with pretentious, humble air,
we get along well
for two who loathe each other.
You're unremittingly sardonic
and I'm irrevocably acerbated,
yet your resulting contentedness
makes me melt.
And after all this time I've waited,
I want to be vindicated.
So no more theorizing.
Tell me how you felt.


Written from a guy's perspective (duh)

Brunette
She gives me the knowing glance
And the matching smile
Of someone who doesn't really know.
Her mane of tresses
Wild and free
Like I wish I could be;
Tangled in her,
Fingers and lips,
Chest
Rising and falling
Like the ocean that seperates us
(Metaphorically speaking
Because really,
She's only four feet away).

Her eyes are my amber fire
Flickering
Then away, faster than the wind can carry
To burn another with her gaze.
Doesn't she understand?
Each light touch
Tingles
And lingers
When she's not around,
And her tear-stained cheeks
(He'll pay someday)
Make each drop
A piece of the sky; falling.

The life, the laughter,
The love you give all
That I can only return in secret
In a notepad I hide
Under my pillow,
It's all worth it.
Believe me.
Someday you'll see.


The switching between I and you was on purpose, to show that both the "I" and the "you" are seasonal to him. Other than that, it's self explanatory.

Seasons of Lust (I am your autumn girl)
He only loves you in the summer
When he can see your skin
And the heat crawls up your body
Like those arms he wraps you in

His breath is strong and sharp and warm:
A coffee scented smell
It begs my eyelids open, so
Instead of tomorrow, I might as well

A passion for passion, a lust for lust
His hungry eyes devour your hips
And watch them sway as you approach;
His thirsty mouth, it drinks your lips.

One girl, one season, line, quartet
But you can't see the other three
If you don't mind that, keep him, hon,
But nine of twelve months, let him be.


That's enough for now.

[Del]

Mmmmm. Love love love your poems.

[turkoizdog]

Thank you
My school has an open mic night every once in a while, and I may sign up for the next one. I'm not sure what poem to do or even if I should do a poem, or a piece on the piano instead.

[turkoizdog]

I really like this one. That's all I'm going to say.

A poem by any other name...
You're like a bad pun (my guilty pleasure)
A slice of overheated donkey meat
If you know what I mean.
Or rather, a reworded cliche
glittering in the moonlight
(technically reflected sunlight).
But I can't look you in the eyes
Because I never learned to swim,
And your heated breath liquefies my heart.
Now I know love is a touchy subject
(as is anything else so blind)
But it can't be helped,
Because the grass is definitely greener
On the other side
When you're stuck with a rock garden.
Rocks don't feel as nice on my skin
As grass
And you.

What is normal?
What is normal?
Really, would someone let me know
So I can explore it, adore it, and call it my own?

What is normal?
Give me a definition
And a sample sentence, if you please,
So I can fully understand
Something that took the world by storm
Generations ago.
If normal is an art, I'm an aspiring artist.

What is normal?
Is it being just like everyone else?
(a carbon copy, if you will,
or CC, the cloned kitty)
Is it blending in with the others,
and not a hair out of place?
Maybe it's follow the leader,
Wherever he may go.
To a movie.
To a concert.
Up a tree, down a waterfall.
Around in circles... off a cliff?

What is normal?
Sorry, this is getting a bit repetitive...
But then again, isn't normal?

What is normal?
Really, would someone let me know...
So I can avoid it?



More later...?

If there's any one you particularly like, tell me which one. I want to perform a couple of these for my school's next Open Mic Night.

[turkoizdog]

This one was kinda inspired by Rahm Emmanuel's love letter to oil lobbyists

I'd sell my soul for a Klondike bar[/u][/size]
Dear Ivy Leagues, I've come to the conclusion
That I would be perfect for your institution
You see, being me wasn't easy growing up,
Elementary school plays, Dad found it hard showing up,
But then, he worked hard day and night
Doing what he thought was right
To raise two daughters all alone
And working himself down to the bone.
He spent his life getting us to succeed
So that unlike him, we'd be college degree'd
And I will be, and all due to
The things that I know and what I can do
I get straight A's in AP classes,
And even my Lit papers entertain masses.
GPA-wise, I have four-point-seven,
With a batting average of point-five-eleven.
I carve abstract art into concrete slabs,
I take 20 minutes to get 30 minute abs,
I play violin, I play trombone,
Clarinet, piano, and saxophone.
I write award-winning poetry and plays,
Built a scale model of the Taj Mahal with toothpicks in 2 days,
I speak Klingon, Elven, and Portugese,
Spanish, French, Pig Latin, and Mandarin Chinese
I built houses for disabled kids in Peru
And five days a week, volunteer at the zoo.
I've saved men from drowning, delivered a baby,
And given Obama a high-five... (maybe)
Thousands follow a religion I founded
And in 18 years, I've never been grounded.
I grew up here but was born a Virginian.
I have a blog online where I share my opinion,
And a column in the paper where I give advice,
And in my spare time, I enjoy eating ice.
So there you have it, here I am.
I hope you accept me, Sir and/or Ma'am.
To your school, I'm completely dedicated.
I'm the ideal candidate, as I've demonstrated.
So you can have me, flaunt me
(You know that you want me)
Cuz my name and "perfection" are (nearly) synonymous.
You're my number one. Sincerely, Anonymous.


This one's a slam poem (kinda)

Titles are overrated
T-shirts are so restricting.
They say they wear them for comfort
But what's comfort if you can't breathe?
Try a v-neck
Or a tank top on for size.
Yeah they'll call you names.
They'll call you skanky
They'll call you slutty
They'll call you comfortable in your own skin.
Which you should be, because unlike a snake,
You can't shed it and grow a new one.
Boys, they may point and laugh
At your... chest hair.
Girls, they'll be talking about your
C-c-cleavage all week...
As if Moses himself... parted it.
But at least you'll be free.
At least
You'll be able ...
... to breathe.

[turkoizdog]

Soo I randomly decided to participate in a poetry slam, made it to the 2nd round and got 4th place (of the 5 people who made it to the 2nd round). I was (I think) the only freshman and the only slam-virgin in the top 5, ...and the top 2 go to nationals (so I'm kinda glad I didn't get into the top 2 ).

This is the poem I used in my first round.

Female
It's what I am,
Believe it or not.
My doctor says so
My birth certificate says so
The gaping hole between my legs
Says so.

It's called a "sex"
Because that's what you have to do
To make one.

Woman
A synonym.
But these words have more in common.
Fe. Male. Wo. Man.
What do these prefixes mean?
Not?
Are we so different?

I hate it when guys
Call people "pussies"
As if vaginas
Are bad things.
And then you wonder
Why you're not getting any.
Let me tell you,
Not every woman
Can have sex in stilettos
Just like how not every woman
Considers whipped cream
A fashion statement.
I am a woman
Because of my DNA
Not "jugs"
(which, by the way,
are empty unless recently pregnant,
dumbass).
So don't make comments
On how I don't look like Barbie.
(she's missing a fucking rib)

"I don't hit girls"
A guy might say.
Why?
You think I can't take it?
You think you can snap my
like a toothpick
Just because I'm supposed to be one?
Well, any guy
Who wants a girl
Without an ass
Can kiss mine.
Or rather,
he shouldn't
Or I'll kick his.


My second poem was "A poem by any other name" (see above)
It's not really much of a slam poem and didn't do as well as the first but I don't care.

[turkoizdog]

So I've been writing a lot more lately... too much more to post it all here, but here's one of my new ones.

Hello. I think you're cute
And I want to kiss you.
Hey, just being straight foreward.
If you want, I can come up with
Some clever pick-up line,
about angels or running
or rearranging the alphabet...
but I wanted to say that first.
Besides, I hate trying to put
neurotransmitters into words
other than "noradrenaline"
and "dopamine dopamine dopamine"
You see, normally,
I don't believe in that
"love at first sight" stuff...
But now that I think about it,
it's not really love at first sight,
more like you've just seen someone so beautiful,
so entrancing
that you forget that they're not yours yet.
Someone like you.

But I hope you have a nice personality, too.
A good sense of humor.
Are you interesting? Mysterious?
Do you have hobbies?
You'd better have hobbies,
or boy am I wasting my time.
Because really, I don't want someone
who's just another pretty face.
I want something behind that face,
in that head,
in that heart,
something.
Just something.




Also a slam poem.

Imma stop posting all my stuff here cuz if I did, this thread would be really long. It's all on my DA though: turkoizdog.deviantart.com/
(creative use of usernames, right?)

[turkoizdog]

I know I said I'd stop, but I just wanted to post these two because they got me into the finals.
Basically with these two poems, I got second place (and the guy who got first was already in the finals) and the top two people who aren't already in the finals get to go to the finals.

Cylinders[/u]
You live your life in cylinders.
Beer and cigarettes.
Cans crushed on your head because, hey,
You don't have any brain cells left to kill.
Every time you light up, you remind me
"I just like watching things burn"
But every gasp of smoke that breaks loose from your pale lops
Is a bit of your soul that escapes.
And I want to catch it
And add it to my collection
Or stuff it back down your throat
Because at this rate
Soon
There'll be nothing left.

You taste like forest fires
And abusive fathers
And everything destructive,
Everything that takes down
What it took years to build up.

You're majestic.
You may smell like a trailer park,
But you look majestic,
Like one day you stepped outside
Threw back your head and cried
"Here I am world!
Accept me!"
Well... I did.
But it's hard
When you remind me
Of everything I've been trying to forget,
Like forest fires and abusive fathers,
And cylinders.
Crushed cylinders,
Crumpled and forgotten and lying on the ground,
Next to my pleas to please...
Stop.
But you're not a quitter,
Although in this case,
It's the quitters who win.
They win... me.


Verbal Sadism
You woke up with bruises on your arm this morning
And you looked over at me,
Putting my bra back on,
And smiled.
Because for the first time,
I hit you hard enough.

Now our love is no picnic,
But it's not whips and chains either.
I call it Verbal Sadism,
Because with arguments like ours,
Who needs foreplay?

It's not something most people understand.
Most people think love is black or white,
Romantic or kinky,
Dominant or submissive.
But I want me some power struggle, baby,
Some gray area,
Because submissive people bore me.

I dunno if this makes me more sadistic
Or less
But I don't wanna hit someone
If they're just gonna sit there
And take it.

That's right.
Hit me back.
No, I'm not gonna break.
But with all the blue-gray badges
I've left on your skin,
I want you to leave some on mine.

I'll admit it.
Sometimes,
You make me want to scream
(In both ways)
And I'll watch your sleepy smile
And want to smother it
With lips or pillow, I don't care.
But I suppose every relationship has its consequences
And its strong points,
And you've gotta love the thorns
As much as the rose.

But you wanna know the best part?
We don't "fuck"
We don't "have sex"
We make love-hate
And wake up with satisfied smiled on our faces,
Because the think I love about you most
Is how much you hate me,
And the thing I hate about you most
Is how I can't stop loving you anyway.



Funny, normally they say to write about what you know. But when I write about what I know, the reaction is not nearly as positive as when I write about what I don't know.