my creative poetry manuscript
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(This is a
collection of my poems throughout my highschool and college years.
just so
you understand-
I wrote
these in high school and college! enjoy!!!)
=the ones
that are called "three word rule" or "deck of words" are products of
a deck of words that i made myself and then just randoming picked
three words at a time and tried to make sense of them... just for
your information.....=
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three word
rule
flower garden love
pencil power wrote
doodles spill over
scratch scrabble now
image appears slow
white becomes written
sun above peeks
feeds us flowers
open our souls
seeds nectar love
smell sweet grass
leaves reach sunshine
grow tall skywards
God to talk
of Miracle Grow
their corporation benefits
(at work-january 98)
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surrealism
lesson
scab picking and velcro shoe
are
too sore for eyesighting
muscles
jellowalking away from me
and in
one great big huge enormous gulp
if i
ran over there real quick
and
Hey Australia is all alone mom!
(in class-fall 97)
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deck of
words-1
walk garnet skin
wool farm drive
shouts Ginsberg bread
stars barbecue deodorant
Silver schools sparkle
prickles love glass
red Cummings mud
fly peace crayons
giggles Enya shoes
cigars pickle rubarb
cackles shampoo gun
smile Wilson farther
snow kisses me
hold chocolate sand
clouds guitar contentment
(jan-98)
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her arms of
farm skin
living sheltered yet
he would encourage standing knowledge
her snow covered books could shout
"party angel in the sand"
the eternal fire burned inside
as candles cleared the air
she wore denim furs and
seeked worn takings
certain plain pleasures
like hearing cackles, tears, and guns
swearing under vodka bouncers
moods never judging entire beings
individuals squinting at clouds
making the odd formations work
she'd eat meatloaf under hazy smile
and say "gracias sunshine"
having pure freedom or jealousy
she worried about the sharpness of her
crayons,
while baking sweat turkey fuzzies
she had power but
was devoted to her father
souls continue their mercy
(feb 98)
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deck of
words-3
grapes bike peanuts
lasagna sculptures water
the think mind grows
Love runs on hardwood floors
join a mental word society
hold my rubber kisses
chocolate glasses me
open new robot meditations
Lassie licks Koolaid
cereal giggles thunder
desire involves nothing sometimes
taste foggy paper cigars
have picnics in seaweed rain
we all want close paths
Ginsberg swam pain
contentment snowboards along truth
existing elements will determine
phone talking competitions
there's a guitar in schools
culture gives learning
souls continue their
mercy
(feb 98)
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my
childhood reoccuring dream on
"the nail people"
they want to hug me but it hurts
their spiraling bodies walking on points
talking in dolphin
to soothe the fact
they have my family trapped
in a price is right wheel
their faces skinnied out
on glass showings like in superman
they want me in there, maybe
(feb 98)
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speed
freak
i get in my car or i pedal on my bike
and all i want is wind going through
my hair
music pounding on my earlobes through
my limbs,
muscles hurting, muscles aching
but yet i push one the accelerator
or pedals.
faster faster faster
it hurts but i push on
push push push push
the wind and the rush
and the
beating of muscles and music.
stop and glide. ahhhh.....
my face is red
my body is wet and full of sweat.
i smile.
i shower and water,
the greatest element,
cleanses me
of pain and soothes my spirit.
i sleep and awake to more pushing
of brain cells.
the pounding of learning and remembering
and then when I succeed the wind
blows through me as it would on my bike
and i am blown to the ecstasy of wisdom and my spirit flows as freely
and my hair
through the air of the sky.
(june 97)
----------------------------------------------------
wrapped in confusion,
masked in a smile.
thinking and searching
for the
me in me.
what's my purpose,
so far off,
hidden in a cave?
i can't find it sometimes.
i don't feel like me.
and when me
those rays of this rock of my soul
brightens my belonging
in the world of hate and distrust.
underneath it is love.
love endures.
i am love.
you are love.
why must we be cruel?
why must we hate?
i hug this person to my side
and they stab me
with my own fork.
that is not me-
Sybil,
what a name!
do people say "what a person she is?"
or not?
i hope they see those beams
coming forcefully from my kryptonite-
that is my me.
i must not be afraid.
i must run toward it with all my might
all my love and.......
"may i have some of your rock?"
(june 97)
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what would you like?
do you need a liver?
she was rare to drink.
do you need a lung?
no cigarettes met her tongue.
do you need to see?
she was a perfect 20/20.
do you need a heart?
running and tennis built hers.
do you seek love?
it was in her fridge.
do you want a tomboy?
dirt was in her nails.
do you wish for hair?
she could tickle toes.
do you want her mind?
she thought
she wasn't good enough.
(christmas 97)
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dove into a
puddle of
water happiness
i saw her hugging the tree and
reaching into the
blue stream
she smiled, i smiled
why is she laughing?
her face beams in
childlike running-ness
run, run, leap, bike
into
pure sky
she thinks so sillyilly
moves flexible
feminine
she doesnt cry no more
where are her frowns?
they are gone, gone, run away far
i leaped
into the
pure childhood stream
of myself
with him
my hugging tree
(april 97)
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Sometimes I
feel like my memories are the memories of someone else that was like
me but not me because I have become the person I am by being another
person first.
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(feb
98)
this is my soul
long arms areaching
up towards god
and that warm-filled
stomach goo
that glows inside of me
the deeper you go
the shutter your eyes and
the more hollow but yet
filled
you come to become you
this is my soul
out on my bookshelf
you pass by and admire
like a perfectly worn book
written on with thots
it has been tossed
and exchanged and cherished
but adored because
it was unique
this is my soul.
(dec 97)
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things floating
things floating in my mind
plentiful and complicated
from finding true love
discovering long lost emotions to
distorted figures and friends
of mistakes, feelings, and secrets
my knowledge is of no school books
but of philosophy and individualism
i am but a whisper above the roar
and a rain drop in a storm
self-esteem has deserted me
as peace leaves the world
building my thoughts like
constructing architectural structures
fading in and out
life is worth living without money,
power, or success
no longer existing in this world
(94)
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this poem
is titled alisa so here is a picture of her
1.
far past days,
sit in a blurry haze
above our dumptruck sand-castles
and t-ball bases.
but ours,
those encounters when we knew
mom was wrong
and we became hilarious angels
who'd drank
bubbly water from her silly high heels
relished in superiority
because we were great allies
in the disastrous parentalwar.
2.
you caused jokes and satires to
openly pursue
the air
out of your "duck lips"to tick off dad,
and I
the one that always ended up giggling
under a clenched-cupped hand
to keep the bubbles in
until my stomach was flat.
it wasn't ever forced laughter Sisa!
you are Prosaic,
packaged into a beautiful being
sarcastic about life and
rebelling
like you would,
and should.
you are me- a reincarnated comedian.
I am your agent and
I'll buy your book
and cloth your bod
in fabulous
thrift store memorabilia.
3.
twins separated by three years-
poor mom,
poor dad.
we could have given heart palpitations,
wearing them down takes 20 years,
poor Sybil.
but I leave a space for you,
most cherished friend,
fellow collaborator of ideas and concepts
parents don't want to hear of.
I am sorry I called you "that girl."
remember your older teacher sister!
i taught you
what poured from my head-
did you learn?
so when our daughters whisper in church,
perhaps we will ignore
the union
occurring down the pew that can last
until dad shaves his beard off.
(jan 98)
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S
omeone
Y ou
B roke
I s
L onely.
(christmas 97)
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Poema de
Amor
Tu quiero
mi
novio favorito.
Me encanta
su
amor grande.
Tu quiero
tal vez.
?Es sorpresa?
No es
verdad senor
guapo.
Tu quiero mi amor
(feb 98)
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tick tock
its time to go
where are we to show?
tick tock run run run
you have to beat the sun
tick tock dont be late
but nothing is at the gate
tick tock hurry around this clock
and so many doors to knock
got to get there got to go
but where is this place
we must run to show?
(in class-fall 97)
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i stop.
i go.
i stop.
i go.
i am on the highway
called hellolife.
i sing.
i stop.
i go.
i call my boyfriend
i go to work
i do my homework that is due
in a month.
i stop for vacations
i go again with mondays
need no fuel on this route
i am driving to see me.
i stop.
i go.
i jump into the top bunk and dream of
i stop.
(dec 97)
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turtles swim the water
birds swim the air
people swim the evil
rare to wet in good
faith is all to see
when swimming at all
(94)
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how cold is so cold-
in the dakota of north?
cold is when no water
is slippery.
when no one can live
longer than a tv show outside.
dakota cold
is hibernation under
chunks of fat.
so cold is how cold?
when these sharp fingers
of frigid air
blow into your nose
to solidify
your boogers.
(jan 98)
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a
dark people
said
"it is like
summer
not yet
in
blue."
(feb 98)
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Ode to My
Notebook
you enclose my ideas
so they do
not
meet
the
ground
of dirt.
Open to me and my wanting
to ScRiBLe
thots the will possibly
CHANGE THE WORLD.
Carpe Dieum
screams Robin and so does
the back cover.
Crouched over you
hidden from common view
and
witness to my quick jots
during a
b o r i n g
l o n g
class full of scholars.
Let's Learn Lots 'o' Little!
Do not burn tonite
for I will most likely
bring you on my journey
tomorrow.
(feb 98)
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(This poem
includes parts of my family so here they are)
i have two
sisters
they tell me whispers
about crazy things
that Jed sings
and our loco mom
with her mary kay bomb.
i like these two
we are all like glue,
at one time we wasn't
but that's when dad killed pheasant.
now i write them email
poems that don't go stale.
they will go to ndsu
after trying on my other shoe
and be famous and smart
but they won't fart
cuz they have a cool older sis
who they sometimes miss
but will always want her clothes
so nobody knows
how nice scrible sibbs sybil
scrip- pip- bobble is.
(email poetry, feb 98)
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Hamlet
i am turning into
a thee or
a thou
analyzing 10 hours of Hamlet.
Ophelia's curls poke
out of my melon
and I begin to speak
in pregnant phrases
mocking Polonius
the fishman, and
talking to myself
in Elsinore's showers and dungeons of
"Be to or be to not"
but I am not an
adultress
with an 18 inch waist and
long braided hair.
So many truths in that
"nothing is good or bad but,
thinking makes it so,"
because I could accidently kill Polonius
and go mad for Mel Gibson.
What a tragedy
for a loved dad to die or
for Horatio to live alone
without his scholarly friend.
(4/13/98)
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censorship
stresses me out
teacher
do we need to read
or look at a book
can we just sleep our tv show
it'd be good if you would
i'd be slappy happy
if you'd look at a book
you need to read
teacher- no!
please don't tease
reading is a disease
we're wearing condoms for
students-look at this book
sneak a peak
bare your whole soul
it has sex, violence, no tolerance
teacher
we need to read
we'll tease the disease
and run around the riot
students
we can't look at this book
no peaking sneaking
my mentors censored it
i guess you don't need to read
(april 98)
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my prayer
I (We) give thanks to the
Almighty Persons
whether they be
buddhas, gods, or fairies
because they have made it possible for us
to live on this great fruitful planet
and eat this meal.
We want to be good people and hope that you bless us as you bless our
meal.
Gracias, thank you, amen.
(june 98)
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electric light
notorious blight
desolate trees
begging 'please'
devilish rain-
lightning stain-
thundering screams
mud streams
violent wind....
the rain forest sinned.
(by alisa 98)
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"Sybilistic
Process."
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