MY NEW STUFFF

Just thought I'd post this is light of my new song I made haha. Tell me what you thinkk!!

https://soundcloud.com/gking93/forever-in-a-dream

On Being Yourself

You are so you,
the way you count your freckles
when everything is dying,
the way you value your privacy
but coat fragile glass screens
with your fingerprints,
the way your art mimics your
personality
and the way you don't understand
when people tell you this.

The way you always wanted
a place to be at nine at night
and the way you have fulfilled
this wish among several.
Your persistent ways are mimicry
of your hatred to long for
things and people,
and your way of dancing around
metaphors about sadness
is mimicry of your passion
to convey feeling
and creates the same in others.

The way you tell people to follow
when they beg you not to go,
the way your favorite music from
years past makes you cry
and yearn for experiences
that will never happen again.

The way you boldfaced that.

Dead flowers ~Hannah

Visit me under the bare oak
on the shaded hill.
Nothing worth more than
my earthly dwellings.
It is an empty hole,
I have returned to dust.
Dust cannot respect the
dreary dead flowers.
Bring me your love
so that I may see her.
Tell her stories of my quiet moments
and sweetest quirks.
Visit me on the hill even though
I will not be there.
Visit the empty space that I was.
And remember.

you're not my rebirth, i know

all day I wait until the sun touches the edge 
of Palmer building, my worn feet shuffling 
against the gravel because the earth 
is so slow when college life is this fast. Oh, I miss your laugh that I’ve never tasted 
upon my own and I cannot sit still in class. I stop reading 
when people walk through these doors because I am afraid 
you will pass by, every minute a chance 
to share a breath with the mix of you in it.
I don’t need you but I want to know you, more than I want to dream.

Rotten Poem

In the dumpster of my mind,
I felt your sight on me.
I neglected to take out the trash today
Maybe I'll try to do it tomorrow.

Rotten Poetry

Thanks for coming out to our first LHSP workshop!

Here's my "rotten poem":

In the incandescence of my mind,

I tasted the cacophonous sounds of spring.

I blew my nose on a soggy tissue

Everything happens for a reason. 

Rotten Poetry

In the hospital of her mind,

his ears saw smells that made his touch taste...salty.

Tears turned their faces red and puffy.

Eventually the embarrassment will fade.

~-~

In the chalkboard of my mind,

the smell of tears is black and white.

This function is isomorphic!

Someday this proof will be right.