Thursday, February 28, 2008

I always seem to have a comfortable disposition when it's only us, my friend.

i've been asked questions
regarding feelings
(for her).
those of which i express vocally
(and of course, through writing).
you call it young love.
all i can say (or write)
in response to your
rolling eyes
presumptuous sighs
when i tell you
stops at the
sight of her,
hastens, and my
world mirrors perfect reality
pure bliss
with every single thing just feeling a slight amount better
(the sun's glow warming your skin,
the sky's deep blue pool greeting your smile
and bringing it to new lengths,
the little pink lilies methodically waving to you,
with help from the wind, their close, breezy friend,
and all your worries seem to be tiny matters,
now vanishing into the depths of the pool
like the floating clouds, dissipating
into this simple,
you simply must be
jealous or
clearly oblivious
to how love changes
How Love Changes Every Single Day by Calvin

Monday, February 25, 2008

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Father and Daughter

In dreams, emotions are overwhelming

Sometimes I get down on myself because I've got all these problems...

...but then I look up at the sky and realize that the world is so big, and I'm so small, and I'm so insignificant that all my problems don't really amount to that much.

Nothing really amounts to that much.

Use your imagination and dream. It's all we can really do.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

We fell asleep on the moving hills - they colored our closed eyelids, but even the new day couldn't keep you off my mind.

several hours of pondering and
countless rough drafts --
lines of crossed out words
mounds of pen-worn paper
(hording my aptly named
trash bin)
I sit restlessly anxious and awake
pondering thoughts of love and
cute word rhymes --
lines in sought of your remembrance
sweet metaphors
and distinctly unique romanticism --
to secretly poor my affection
and love
inside a single sealed desire-you-most
think-of-you-only letter
for your eyes only
your enjoyment only
your heart

I sit at my desk thinking
a better way to word what I'm feeling
a way to phrase the viral thoughts which
overlap and ostracize all others.

The vocabulary at my disposal
doesn't quite fit the lines well --
another torn draft to the pile
and the not-quite-worthy-of-your-time trash raises
incrementing slowly as the hours

Visions of you and
your smile
(daringly stretching from one cute tip of your cheek
to the other)
entitle you
the very right to have
my concentration and effort poured
tenderly and dearly
with no complaint;
for I have found the conclusion to my thoughts:
this letter which I write you
this poem which endures the countless cross-outs
and throw-aways
will always stand one notch below
what you deserve
(for every minute of my time
I use my pen on this piece of work,
is one more minute I waste
one more minute which would
be better spent on the goal I set to accomplish
when I first laid my eyes upon yours).

So let this poem be
simply what it need best say:
I love you and Happy Valentines Day!
Happy Valentines Day by Calvin

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Is this ongoing or do you plan to end it somehow?

I took a microvacation of the mind - staring at the sun.

I want to run away.
Far away.
No more pressure.
No more emptiness.
Just a beach
a boy
and the sun.
A Dream by Calvin

Monday, February 11, 2008

I sat having lunch with her trying to soak in seeming wisdom. I realized wisdom is subjective -- and relative.

While you stared
arguing with your eyes
solidifying nondiscoveries with
your assumptions
I stood unafraid
dreaming of something better
unseen by anyone
but you.
I dream of figures
two of them standing
of your imagination
by anyone
but you.
Your most understanding
and profound words
while I sit alone
in the night
My memories of desire lay frozen
under a cover
of new snow.
Frozen by Calvin

This sentence will ruin/save your life.

if I told you things I did before
told you how I used to be
would you go along with someone like me
if you knew my story word for word
had all of my history
would you go along with someone like me

I did before and had my share
it didn't lead nowhere
I would go along with someone like you
it doesn't matter what you did
who you were hanging with
we could stick around and see this night through

usually when things has gone this far
people tend to disappear
no one will surprise me unless you do

I can tell there's something goin' on
hours seems to disappear
everyone is leaving I'm still with you

it doesn't matter what we do
where we are going to
we can stick around and see this night through

Sunday, February 10, 2008

In a city you will never visit

The shape of her soul is a square.
She knows this to be the case
because she sometimes feels its corners
pressing sharp against the bone
just under her shoulder blades
and across the wings of her hips.
At one time, when she was younger,
she had hoped that it might be a cube,
but the years have worked to dispel
this illusion of space. So that now
she understands: it is a simple plane:
a shape with surface, but no volume—
a window without a building, an eye
without a mind.
Of course, this square
does not appear on x-rays, and often,
weeks may pass when she forgets
that it exists. When she does think
to consider its purpose in her life,
she can say only that it aches with
a single mystery for whose answer
she has long ago given up the search—
since that question is a name which can
never quite be asked. This yearning,
she has concluded, is the only function
of the square, repeated again and again
in each of its four matching angles,
until, with time, she is persuaded anew
to accept that what it frames has no
interest in ever making her happy.
She Considers the Dimensions of Her Soul by Young Smith

It's too soon, and you aren't going to ask, but, for the record, I would say, Yes.

We went to the party and
we went to dinner
We watched a movie and
held hands together
We kissed
many times
while we laid
talking in each others arms
I was completely
free of fear
didn't matter
Where we had been
the thought of where we were going
didn't matter
It was only now
Only Now by Calvin

I'd rather be hit than not be touched at all.

Saturday, February 9, 2008

The greatest hug I've ever received was just before I found out one of my best friends was dead.

Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put 'em in quotations

Say what you need to say

Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you'd be better off instead,
If you could only...

Say what you need to say

Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You'd better know that in the end
It's better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again

Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open

Say what you need to say

Say - John Mayor

Thursday, February 7, 2008

I pray and pray that my future kid's childhood will make more sense than mine.

Death is
and I've been solving your problems,
social concerns and fits of confusion -
battles for belonging;
wasting time.
I am an angel genius,
prophet scientist,
and I will be free.
And I guess this message
is to let you know
that I won't be
(my head)
So may you bring
a suitable exuberance.
I Am An by Calvin

(But that doesn't mean I don't still think about you every day.)

I'm so lonely.
I want to leave but I can't.
That'd be running away.
I can't.
I'm so lonely and
to be understood.
Anonymous online confession

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Funny how easy it is to write about something you hate.

The forceful fall onto the asphalt snapped through the entirety of my body, ricocheting from one nerve to the next, finally finding its end at the bottom of my spine. I began to roll forward as my body's immediate response to the poor balance, but before I was entirely right and upwards I felt the aftershocks of the pain. I let out a yelp, cringed, and fell onto my side, face downwards onto the pavement. I felt the tears coming but I did not realize how quick and abound their presence was until I saw the little splatters and puddles forming from beneath my head. My face scrunched in an ineffective attempt to block the tears from flowing, but the shock of the futility of it all, the heat of my breath reflecting from the ground right back into my face, and the discomfort from the pain and earth I felt against me was too much for my facial muscles to withstand. I cried, and didn't care to hide it.

The cause of my fall approached me. What's wrong with ya? shouted the bully who was my senior by two years, which was a lifetime of a difference for an eleven year old. Ya gonna go cryin' to ya mommy? Is that what lil' baby's gonna do? Go ahead, cry, cry all you want. See what good it does ya.

The savage, self-confidence crushing brute got closer. He leaned down over me, putting his face inches away from my ear, whispering, What kind of person are ya?

The bully cocked his arm back and clenched his fist as I prepared for the second assault. Suddenly, two hands stretched out in front of my face and acted as a guardian. I peered through the gaps of my fingers to see who it was. A short, chubby looking teenager, maybe thirteen or fourteen years of age, stood between me and my enemy.

The bully, looking a little shocked, pushed away the kids arms and again I covered myself in preparation for an attack. The boy placed his hands up to protect me once again and said, Leave the kid alone. The startled bully stared the kid in the eyes, informing him that this was none of his business, but the boy proceeded: I still cry sometimes... don't you?

It was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
By Calvin

I never want to lose you again, poured the remains of an ending breath.

Could we kiss
under the stars and the moon?
They won't be bothered
by our love.
Stars and The Moon by Calvin

Monday, February 4, 2008

I know you well enough to know you'll never love me.

I sometimes worry
that the choices I made
for you
to you and of you
being involved
may not have been wise
taken in consideration
what we've done to each other
what I've done
for you
and what stories written
and told we have
for each other
from our future selves
taken from our past
joys and experiences
that we made
for you.
So I sometimes worry
when I reminisce
on never
and when I say
to my very special self
in the mirror in the dark
and when I say
to the choices I made
for you.
Choices Made by Calvin

One by one til what's done is done.

Some mornings, I walk to class listening to music. As I enter the buildings my classes are in, I would usually lower my earbuds for a variety of reasons. It's respectful, I guess - not that I can imagine anyone would think it is disrespectful, but that's just how life works - and it is a sort of anti-shock; a preparation for the real world lying ahead. I approach the doors to my classes, with my earbuds now out, and sometimes - not everyday, for I'd imagine I'd be wearing much more restrictive clothing if it happened more often - but sometimes I would hear a voice.

The voice would rise up from within my own head and speak non-truths to me. Horrible lies about the possibility of pain soon ahead. Regrets and mistakes lie in front of you, it would screech - no, not a screech. More like a howl, a sharp howl, like a wolf mysteriously shouting its praises to the moon at night. I would hear the voice's jeers pounding like an ever-intensive, never-ending headache, and I would feel the burn of it's non-eye's stares, more deep and more threatening than the most angriest of mother's, before I would even sit down in the classroom. I would often quickly replace my earbuds and walk back out the building.

Once outside, the voice in my head would cease - but a new voice would rise stronger and more daring than the last. It spawns from my heart and it is ashamed of me. It's ashamed of my thoughts. My choices and decisions, good or bad. The sense of this shame is like a cage closing on my ribs. When this happens, I turn up my music and walk home as quickly as possible trying not to hate myself. My home acts as some sort of sanctuary; when I am here I have no forces - no voices - acting on my life.
By Calvin

Sunday, February 3, 2008

On her deathbed, she reached for my hand, despite not knowing exactly who I was, and with a thin but honest smile, asked, "However did you escape?"

If I could start again...

Have you ever felt like you could burn the world down? -- Every day.

In the movie Rocket Science by Jeffrey Blitz, Hal Hefner is an average sophomore at Plainsboro High School in New Jersey. He stutters both verbally and emotionally and suffers the daily indignities of a typical teenager. With only a little encouragement, Hal falls in love with the star of the debate team, Ginny Ryerson and finds himself suddenly immersed in her ultra competitive world of high school debating, with its players, its politics, and its own set of rules. And when Hal finds his heart broken, love (or revenge) is the driving force that leads him to want to win the debate competition more than anything in his life.

You okay?

Yeah. But what would you say are
your thoughts on love?

It’s so late, Hal, and I couldn’t
find the off-ramp and had to circle
back three times and now I’m not
even sure I know how to get you
back to Plainsboro.

I guess, you know.... Well, it’s
nothing, I was just thinking.

Maybe you shouldn’t think so much
about everything.

I mean it’s not, it shouldn’t be
rocket, rocket... it shouldn’t be
rocket.... It shouldn’t be that
but it feels like, sometimes it
just feels, you know. I guess what
I just want to know when, at what
point, you see, does all this
begin, or really start, to make

All what?

Everything, all of it.

I guess at some point.... see, you
reach a certain age and you’re in
Jersey, or someplace just like it,
and you stop trying to figure it
all out. It’s kind of like that.
You just are glad for what you

And that happens to everybody?

Pretty much but you let me know if
it turns out different for you.

I’ll do that, I will. I’ll find a
way to do that, some good way, to
let you know how it all turns out.

Saturday, February 2, 2008

I don't know what I'm doing right now. I'm entirely alone on a friday night - it's been this way for weeks. I keep withdrawing. I feel so empty.

Give me a reason to stay constantly ignored
Give me an angle that I haven't tried before
A guarantee for being honestly compared
You want to live when life is achingly unfair

Don't make a move you'll look ridiculous again
You share no interest but it's easy to pretend
Don't start the action it will turn against you soon
No one is going to follow and you'll stand there like a fool

You left the people when the people left you out
Back in the suburbs you're craving for the crowd
Only minded now with defeats of yesterday
The mantra spinning in your head will keep it raised

Give me a reason to stay constantly ignored
I don't think I can
Give me an angle that I haven't tried before
Not from where I stand
A guarantee for being honestly compared
Could not be found
You want to live when life is achingly unfair
Stick around

Don't give up
Don't give up
Don't give up
The Whitest Boy Alive - Don't Give Up

In the dream, she ended up married. Unhappily.

You're taking
my heart
shredding it to pieces
and leaving it behind
like you never had it in the first place.
Why did you even start this
if you had no intention.
It's nearly murder.
Taking My Heart by Calvin