Song of Myself
Contributed by
mhagan14
on
Thursday, 21st June 2012 @ 09:10:39 PM in AEST
Topic:
oops
|
Song of Myself
1
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I see you shall see,
For every neuron in me screams of this poem and much more.
I speak and invite you as a listener,
I do not look forward to the next 959 words.
My person, every fiber of my being, revolves around these verses, this poem.
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now fifteen years old in much dismay begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
These words are a fraction of my life I deem worth living,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I persevere whether for good or bad, I offer my opinion at every opportunity.
2
When staring at a nearly blank page to be filled with a thousand words of poetry, what is one to say?
Thoughts and memories scamper to the farthest reaches of my mind, and cower in the cob-webbed darkness of its crevices.
They selfishly desert me in my time of frantic need.
I begin to desperately attempt to coax my thoughts back into the open, like a cat when there's a dog in the house.
If I try to expose the thoughts forcefully I withdraw a fiercely-mangled hand, and they retreat further into their lair, hissing and spitting.
This is why I despise poetry, and all three of my cats.
3
I wish I was not able to count my money on both hands.
I wish my parents would let me procure employment.
I could have money for dates, car things, food, clothes, movies, games, laptops, phones, speakers, mufflers, road trips, a person to bring me Arnold Palmer whenever I want.
The remainder of my earnings would be spent on track days, gym memberships, Pepsi-can blue paint jobs, fancy watches, neck ties, shoes, music, trips to France, apps, relationship-y things, and some other fun things as well.
I want a job because it would greatly improve my life.
My parents are opposed to improvement and are determined that I remain but a poor waif.
Or it could be that Emily's grades plunged when she got a job.
4
I would be overcome with joy and happiness if it would just be March already.
Then I can drive and not have to ride the bus, not have to wake up at 6, not have to get rides all the time, not have to sit while my dad drives painfully slowly, not need to entrust Emily with my life, leave the house more often, do fun teenager-y driving things, and I can finally see Mitchell then too.
He is my best guy-friend
and he has been for the past 5 years.
His mom went all psychotic this year and has not let him see any of his friends in months.
It does not help that he's homeschooled.
He also had to clean the kitchen floor with a toothbrush.
He has to pay for his insurance and gas even though he is only allowed to drive his siblings where they need to go.
His mom decided that he is not allowed to hangout or talk to me because she is convinced I am a terrible person or a mass-murderer or something of the like.
I feel so bad for him.
His parents make me have a immensely better opinion of my own parents.
5
Winter
is a loathsome, dreadful, and frigid fragment.
It is full of dark, soggy grotesque-ness, and air that batters your skin like jagged razor blades.
Spring
is full of hopefulness and comfortable temperatures.
It is full of flowers and leaf buds and cool, humid air that flows around you and peels off the layers of dry, cold, winter air that previously assaulted your skin.
I do not like Spring.
I like winter, winter in all its shimmering, white glory.
I like the blanket covering the Earth during this portion of the year.
I like Christmas and all the time off of school that it affords.
I like taking pictures of winter-y things, and snow swathed nature.
I like all of the opportunity for cute moments in the snow and cold conditions.
I like the snowball fights.
I like the winter morning runs.
I like the crisp, invigorating winter breezes.
I like the warmth of returning inside to a cup of hot chocolate or coffee.
I like the silky Jersey sheets that cover my bed.
I like New Years Eve celebrations, and the potential of the new year.
I like controllable tail slides that are so much fun on the polished icy roads.
6
I love you, Allyssa;
I love the smiles that you are ever so capable of bringing to my face, and
I love the sensation of bliss that you bring to my whole self.
I love each and every moment that I spend with you, Allyssa.
I love that you came to see me even though I have this lengthy free verse poem to write, and that you are patiently waiting for me to complete it.
I love your face and the way that all of your expressions make me feel.
I love absolutely everything about you unconditionally and without end.
Allyssa, can you say the same for me?
7
There is a sizeable navy blue contraption in my garage at this moment.
This sizeable navy blue contraption is my favorite possession in the world, following only the more massive grey contraption outside the garage.
My navy dirt bike is where I go when I need to escape from everything else.
My Yamaha isn't a thing to me, however, it is more so a place to get away from all else.
It is a mental state that I can retreat to when my normal state of being has been compromised in some way or another.
Speed, powerbands, the smell of rubber, dirt, mud, jumps, wheelies, g-forces, noise, gears, clutches, drifting, fierce acceleration, endos, and wind purify my thoughts until nothing else matters.
Just me and my machine in flawless harmony, like it truly should be.
That's how my mind works.
Copyright ©
mhagan14
... [
2012-06-21 21:10:39]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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