Kyuuketsuki ai• Show poetry

Hey!

I'm seventeen, go to high school somewhere in Nowherseville, Montana (strangely enough, all the towns have names like that. no. not seriously). I play the violin, am a photographer of sorts, travel with altogether too many belongings, and read far too many books. I overkill every paper I write for English class (think 8.5 pages when they wanted 4--I know, I know. Pathetic but true), and casually underestimate my own abilities to cause chaotic and catastrophic chemical spills in any given science class. That's me: part artist, part disaster, part book-smarts, part klutz. Of course, I also write.

I am a linguist, a connoisseur of dead French and Spanish poets, a specter of back roads, that girl with 105% in every class who still feels herself a failure, a distinguished paper crane-maker, a dreamer of gods that have nothing to do with christianity, an admirer of Buddha, an independent, the spark of a revolution (at least in my own mind), and the ever-changing canals of thought.

Recently (and thankfully--at least in my own opinion), my poetry has taken a decided turn towards the freeverse and the utterly nonsensical. I reject form and reason, or at least try to, (with the exception of the Haiku. I believe that it is a beautiful form, a picture in words, a vivid memory in the purest sense), with varied levels of success. I also write the odd story (on storywrite, etc.), but they never turn out quite as I would like or as I would imagine. Instead, I find I write best in a somewhat stream-of-consciousness pattern that is quite nearly poetry. Examples: http://storywrite.com/story/294974 also http://storywrite.com/story/240008



I come from the middle of nowhere, and there will always be a mountain behind my eyes, a shard of broken glass beneath my feet, and the fire of restlessness in my heart. I find myself breathing, and in that I find myself a writer.




"Simply because you can breathe,
doesn't mean you're alive,
or that you really live.
this life has taken it's toll
and she just doesn't know,
how much more she can give

But here, at the top of the world, where I raise my hands and I clench my fists,
they stand before me below, demanding the answers with flips of a switch

I don't understand where you got this idea,
so deeply ingrained in your head
(that this world) is something that you must impress,
cause I couldn't care less

A need for revolution's rising, it comes to the surface, gasping for air,
we're not putting up with this planet one more day much less one more year

I don't understand where you got this idea,
so deeply ingrained in your head
(that this world) is something that you must impress,
cause I couldn't care less

So here and now, in our rotting nation
the blood, it pours, it's all on our hands now
we live, in fear, of our own potential
to win, to lose, it's all on our hands now

And I have an American Dream,
but it involves black masks and gasoline,
one day I'll turn these thoughts into screams,
at a world turned its back down on me

I don't understand where you got this idea,
so deeply ingrained in your head
(that this world) is something that you must impress,
cause I couldn't care less"

("Black Masks & Gasoline" by Rise Against)