bloated_evening_sky pushpins The bloated evening sky sighed. and all the birds scattered from his breath. The wreath of stars hung in his disheveled clouds. My soul felt free floating among the heavens with the spring breeze fresh on its azure skin. The candor of this moment, this ethereal thread of time, catches me off gaurd. I smile out loud. My jubilant giggles glide along the silken lining of the night sky leaving a trail of bittersweet frost in their wake. I am just happy to surrender to this naked beauty. I am Just happy to be alive and woven into the splendor of this night. 020314 ... yummyC I feel like all my bad poems are emphasized, and the ones I like are misunderstood or ignored or too wordy to be bothered with. my mom doesn't like my poems when i show them to her. Its too bad that she doesnt understand how much it takes for me to let her read them. she doesnt seem to care. its like a 3 year old me showing her my scribbled drawings. "thats nice, Jamie." thanks a lot. UGHHHH! FUCK YOU MOM! (sorry) and when all my friends were helping me choose what to read at open mic night, they chose the simple adolescent angsty uncreative plastic ones. "oh i miss you, love you, you are my star, blah blah" (although i have no poems too much like that). then i have the_deftones (deftones ?) one and everyone is like "...er....nah. just read the other one." ah ignore my passion, then!! roar. ~~i intended to just say "i like this poem"~~ ...got a bit off track... im being appreciated for crappy me. crappy five minute poems. maybe i wont apply myself and become famous. Like a rapper. 020320 ... g h o s t memories of flyblown starlight, rotting and crawling with scavenging life the carcass of a dream 020320 ... des this is a good poem. 031226 ... unhinged the clouds hung still in the violently colored sky dusty brown yellow orange red the air charged with the need to let_go 050913 ... Moonies And i'm trying so hard just to let it get passed to you that I see that I get so much from my own poems and I'd like to give you the same, so I must reprimand my methods and my soul will be displaced with yours. I'm sorry, but is that what I should tell them? Should I act, instead? But to what ends? To end my need to ask for the end? And my solipsism blindly crawls to the light so it can mask itself, and maybe I won't be like this forever but there is just too much right now. And run on. Please, please, I beg that you enjoyed it! 081128 what's it to you? who go blather from