Raptor Writing

Lost Words

2011-04-21T20:43:00.003-04:00

"There's still a little bit of your taste in my mouth,
There's still a little bit of you laced with my doubt,
It's still a little hard to say what's going on."

From before the gravel
ground too deep
From before a year
crunched beneath my feet
and sighed,
I can't remember what you said.
Now it's gone,
soaked with another man's
words pretending to be mine
and thrown out with the newspaper.

lost and alone

2011-04-08T21:55:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve this.
I never wanted to be alone.
And you,
you wanted this.
But now you throw her at me like rotten fruit
and blind me with your subtle arm.

And I question if it was really this you were sick of,
and not just me.

"Real loneliness is not necessarily limited to when you are alone."

2011-04-08T14:11:00.005-04:00

I just want to be in love again.
A beautiful love, soft kiss on my shoulder love,
midnight back rub, midnight make love.

It's not that things with him were bad,
they just weren't enough.

I always think I'm okay.
Strong facade, strong face,
deep seeded emotion pushed away and away.

Further sunk, a stone at the pit,
another girl another day.

I lied.
I'm not happy, I'm alone.
Lie until you believe, they say.

"If she loves you, if she really loves you, you’ll know it. If you can wake up to her staring at you and it’s not even mildly creepy, if you catch her smelling the shoulder of the hooded sweatshirt you lent her for an autumn walk at the beach, and not for B.O., if she makes you a pancake in the shape of a shark, if she calls you drunkenly at four in the morning “to talk,” if she laughs at your jokes when they’re funny and makes fun of you when they’re not, if she keeps her fridge stocked with Guinness tallboys for when you come over, if she tells you how she wishes she were closer to her sister and that her dad makes her sad: She loves you, of course she loves you."

"may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
its always ourselves we find in the sea"

e.e.cummings

2011-04-05T15:15:00.002-04:00

Boston fog spray paints grey,
cobblestones, bricked walk,
arms linked,
Bare elbows in the black, black night.
Speak softly, slowly.
Speak through liquored breaths and lie.
Quiet, quiet hands cupped light,
bottom lipped reflection,
skeletal, lithe.

"The bottom line is that we never fall for the people we're supposed to." - Jodi Picoult

2011-04-04T18:40:00.006-04:00

It wasn't whiskey, but rum,
through the sheets
and your breath
and my legs and yours.
Words spoken through skin.
Butterfly bruises
on inner thighs,
hip bones
shoulders
hands and sides.

Conflicted

2010-03-16T21:55:00.007-04:00

The twinge
the drop
the swell,
my heart and head
changing ways like waves.
How can I trust you?
My heart draw lines
straight and sure,
but my brain intersects,
rootless in so many ways.
Show me what we could have been,
what we might be.
There's only so much time
for questioning hearts
and unconvinced minds.

Disconnecticutt

2009-12-23T22:45:00.003-05:00

And I feel a little disconnected:
internet cables,
dial tones,
and millions of miles
connected only by phones.
Anticipation,
my heart skips a beat
waiting for you...
are you waiting for me too?
This disconnect
I've come to know
through hours waiting by the phone,
it only seems to grow.
And you,
do you feel it too?
Or is this disconnect something
just for me to go through?

The Way You Make Me Feel <3

2009-11-27T22:29:00.004-05:00

Never
11/27/09

Never been this way before,
never my first, never my love,
the lovely little things
you'll never know you do.
Never felt this before,
never the flutter,
a heart open wide
never for anyone but you.

Smelled like spring today...

2009-11-09T19:06:00.009-05:00

April
11/9/09

Memories have scent
like the day we met:
March snows and April rains,
cheeks flushed by cool breeze,
the smell of winter taking leave
through the warming of the trees.
Heart grown cold from frosty months
now heated by your touch,
sparks that, to this day,
will never be replaced.

Hands
11/9/09

The way your face lights up
when you laugh for real,
the sharp angles and smooth lines
that shape your skin and bones,
the spot below your shoulder
where our bodies form like clay,
and how your hand fits into mine,
melting together, in an infinite way.

Identifying The Emotion

2009-08-26T20:11:00.002-04:00

Forehead drops
meeting a heavy heart
halfway down my chest
and sinking deep,
rejection sets.

Love, Love, Love

2009-08-10T22:33:00.006-04:00

Thirteen
8/10/09

I feel it -
words embody an utter cliche
ripe from overuse
by starry-eyed, thirteen year old girls.
Behind the stereotype
lies something beautiful and real.
The truth of such a phrase
substantiated only by the bearer -
the dizzying vertigo of falling into you,
unlike anything I felt at thirteen.

Life, Normalcy, and the Pursuit of Something Better

2009-08-04T23:13:00.006-04:00

8/4/09

Years gone by
Caring about where you were,
and where was I,
but even more
when we became You and I.
Flawed from the start;
Even our togetherness
couldn't stop the fights.
Hard bones thud soft skin,
black and blue and white.
Now I measure my life
through weekends
and long nights,
days spent by his side.
He will never be you
and that's better than right.

These past few days, I've been a literary explosion...

2009-08-01T23:36:00.007-04:00

Growing Up
8/1/2009

How we bloom
and who we become,
we rise from our bones,
and grow like bulbs.
We are products of each other,
beautiful vines
intertwined.

Butterflies
8/2/09

You still give me that feeling,
my stomach giving way,
making room for an expanding heart
and lungs filled with breath caught short.

2009-08-01T00:42:00.003-04:00

Three, Lettered Words
July 30, 2009

We throw “I miss you” at eachother,
experts with ball and glove.
Phrased within, it hints of words
we wish we had the voice to say.
Combinations of consonants and vowels;
Letters that mean nothing
Until given a breath of their own.

Life is a gift; don't waste it.

2009-07-18T23:37:00.003-04:00

The Past

The past has such heavy weight
like sunken ships
and ancient cement barricades,
so permanent
even in their irrelevancy.

Untitled #2

All I can imagine
is a burial
a flag draped gently
and army fatigues,
those boots that didn't
fit you right
blasting from your feet,
my heart a million miles
away with you
dying overseas.

Possibly my two least favorite poems...

2009-05-12T20:31:00.002-04:00

Sometimes
May 12, 2009

Like a bad cliché,
I’m
falling
faster and faster.
I’m afraid, terrified.
Still, hopelessly
Too Reluctant
To vocalize
Anything important,
Anything real.

This brick façade,
This concrete wall
I’ve mastered,
Plastered
and super glued
Around my heart:
It’s only
a shield
for broken
Pieces.

And falling
Falling
Falling
Again?
This was not
Part of my plan.
But this irrational,
Insane,
incomparable fear?
It’s so damn worth it.

Edit: Upon re-reading this, I've come to the conclusion that I went through a Sylvia Plath phase and FAILED MISERABLY. I am much better when I'm writing me, as opposed to adopting another poet's style.

April 2009

I am a fragment.
Smash me.
Break me.
Re-break me.
Sharp shards
And shingles,
Shattered
Battered
Bruised
And bare.
Glue me back together
Like I was always there.

Edit: I spent so long on this poem, and it breaks my heart that it still sucks haha

Cancelling out the day

2009-02-25T18:27:00.005-05:00

And once again, writing poetry is the only thing I get accomplished in Poetry class. Sounds appropriate, but it's really not, especially when the focus of the class is scansion.

Out of doors, framed by your rusted teal car,
flickering lights like fireflies fall,
zipping past, bright colors fly and waste away,
Beneath, the pavement blurs and cancels out the day.

I clung to your bed sheets
Sinking claws into claws,
Filling voids with piercing words.
Tacky white glue
always dries on permanent.
Forgotten paper hearts
always tear so well.

I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon.

2009-02-23T16:29:00.003-05:00

Productive Procrastination... it's a beautiful thing...

Years Lost Feb. 23rd 2009

Backpacks filled with useless things,
Wintry days in musty sheets,
Concrete sidewalks, empty wishes,
Broken promises, plastic kisses.
Heated words rip past my skin,
Shift right through the lies you spin.

2009-02-19T16:35:00.002-05:00

I am a frivilous liar.
They fall from my lips,
buttons from a blouse,
sprinkles from your birthday cake.

It'll take more than just a breeze to make me fall over.

2009-02-10T16:14:00.006-05:00

My life is a dissappointing, incredible, half-broken, brand-new, complete and utter mess... and it's beautiful. After disillusionment into believing my less-than-perfect, wholly disfunctional relationship with Matt was going to last forever, I finally--reluctantly--gave up. But this wasn't really a giving up; it was a letting go. Letting go of a relationship that died eight months ago: A relationship that died long before it had a chance to grow.

And I am finally happy. Finally really actually happy.

And I, like a horrible cliche, am finding myself.

I clicked my heels and wished for you.

2008-04-30T16:12:00.002-04:00

My life as of right now: finals, matthew, and a closet that looks like it exploded onto my floor.

Oh joy.

New found obsession with icanhazcheezburger. I just find the little kittens with the humorous, clever captions to be so freaking funny!

Happy St. Patrick's day to anyone who is sober.

2008-03-17T17:01:00.008-04:00

Tainted are their lips,
screaming stories of corruption,
stained and burned,
dark and damp.
When left is right and right is left,
upside down is rightside up,
I am still standing on solid ground.
And through their shot glasses,
their long neck bottles,
their red plastic cups,
and their crushed silver cans,
I see the world invert.

they hold the handle of the knife for now

2008-03-12T13:29:00.004-04:00

The Snapple Fact on my diet peach tea snapple this morning read: Dragonflies have 6 legs but cannot walk.

Kind of sad, isn't it? A strange mutation (among a strand of thousands call evolution) means their legs don't work and are only meant for landing.

I never liked Dragonflies anyways. My Grandmother calls them "sew-ers" and when I was little, she told me that if I lied, they would sew my lips shut. Now, whenever I see that Truth add where the girl's lips and mouth are sewn shut, I think of Dragonflies and shudder.

In other news, I just found out that my weekends from now on are completely full of spring season field hockey practices. Which, in any other circumstance, would make me happy, but not this time... I hate feeling like I have to choose between my boyfriend and a sport. And really, I don't even have a choice. I just have to follow the schedule; it holds the handle of the knife right now. It just sucks because our weekends are all we have, and now we don't even have that.

Time.

2008-03-10T12:02:00.010-04:00

All this talk about lost days,
And the desire to rewind,
When all I want is to fastforward.
But I'm stuck in this anti-time warp;
This slow progression of hours and days, weeks and months.
And inside I feel a spiderweb of time
that has not yet outwardly spun.

Today marks the anniversary of the best day of my life. Ignore the disgusting cliche, but the day you met the person you are meant to be with will feel the same. It's like a deep, filling inhale of cool, summer air, that injects your body with an indescribable warmth and serenity. And it's a comfort beyond any comfort imaginable.

He is one of the many reasons I am ready to hastily grap the remote control and jam the fastforward button on the VCR. And it's to the point where I don't necessarily care if I miss out. I don't need to (nor want to) experience the immaturity and carelessness of college.

So why not just excellerate through the next four years at lighting speed, only catching glimspes of life as they pass?

Perhaps because I would miss out, not on college, but on my life with him... and right now, those moments are all I am really living for.

I may be ready to leap into the future, but I am not prepared.
And I'm not willing to lose those moments in a quick display of random moving frames.

Thoughts on premarital sex

2008-02-29T11:51:00.002-05:00

We are so confined and restricted by religion.

Premarital sex (practiced correctly) is not wrong. It is not immoral. It is not irresponsible. We were just conditioned to believe so because of what a few old men wrote in an ancient book thousands of years ago.

In my opinion, religion was constructed by some really smart, devious people, who wanted to gain power. Manipulation of religion is used as a crutch to political power (DIVINE RIGHT OF KINGS, anyone?).

I am not denying the existance of God (or a God, not necessarily the Catholic God). I am only saying that our moral beliefs come from something all together invalid.This is not to say that killing is perfectly okay, because it's not. A lot of biblical teachings are correct. However, I completely disagree with what religion says about other things: Homosexuality, and more relevantly, pre-marital sex.

A friend of mine stated on a forum:
"In a very primitive outlook, [it is] survival of the species... More sex= more offspring= more chance of survival. Men look to spread their seed as much as possible. Women look for the man with the seed that has the best chance of survival (i.e Power, wealth, education, confidence). In the mere simplicity of it, we were not built to hold off on sex until marriage."

As a huge fan of Darwin's Theory of Evolution (no, I do not have a Darwin fish on my car), I agree with the above statement. Whether it is right or not is constructed by your own interpretation, which is shaped by what society or religion defines as moral.

Lastly, just because I have pre-marital sex does not make me biased on the issue. I felt this way for years before losing my virginity (to someone I love very very much and plan on marrying). The only time I felt otherwise was when I was still disillusioned by religion.

open my eyes, I see sky

2008-02-25T19:01:00.002-05:00

My life is so incredibly depressing sometimes.

Joshua Radin, Ingrid Michaelson, The Cary Brothers, indie-artist Meiko AND Priscilla Ahn are coming to Boston on March 25. Doesn't sound so depressing, seeing as Joshua and Ingrid are my FAVORITE FAVORITE FAVORITE recording artists in the history of forever. Also, the concert is a mere $15.00! Seriously, you cannot beat that. I spent close to $70 to see John Mayer and he wouldn't compare to this concert AT ALL. Again, not depressing -- actually, kind of, sort of, totally awesome.

Alas, depression mixes into perfection like bad eggs in a Betty Crocker cookie mix. The pre-sale ended 2 days ago, and it is impossible to get tickets for any cheaper than $161... I kid you not.

Story of my life.

mmmm awkward deliciousness

2008-02-23T10:51:00.003-05:00

Bahahahahahahaha.....
And I digress.

take it slow.

2008-02-19T12:08:00.002-05:00

increase in homework = lack of blog posts

Disheartening? Yes.
Permanent? No.

Kind of sad, though, seeing as a created this blog to allow myself air within a giant bucket of, well, stress caused by a liberal education.

Also, my computer is being ridiculous. It's still a baby (6 months!) and the lag/the overheating/the not shutting down is out of control. I guess that's what I get for choosing Dell.

yet another hallmark holiday...

2008-02-14T20:32:00.003-05:00

Valentines Day is one of those holidays that I usually lump in with other meaningless days-they exist merely to take up calendar space.

a melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

2008-02-12T20:02:00.000-05:00

And I do believe it’s true

That there are roads left in both of our shoes

But if the silence takes you

Then I hope it takes me too

So blue eyes I hold you near

Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

Hmm. Do I honestly have nothing to say? There has been a lack of words of late.

But not for any bad reason. Just... a lack of wisdom, a lack of poetry, a lack of... words.

Perhaps it's because I've been in a perpetually happy, goofy mood. Also, my ridiculously hard honors class got cancelled this morning and I spent my time being productive (i.e. reading the juicy stuff in Cosmopolitan).

I think if I ever have a girl, I'll name her Melody. Dylan, Aidan, and Melody. Haven't decided yet. I want it to be music related, though: Dylan after Bob Dylan, Aidan because I love that name, and Melody for obvious reasons. I'm not sure though. Suggestions?

A conversation between Matt and me today that depicts our goofiness. I changed the Screen Names.

danielle48: you're awesome
SpOoKyMaN: you are too dumbo
danielle48: aww i love you
danielle48: i am no elephant, btw
SpOoKyMaN: i bet you wont want this pepper
danielle48: if you're the pepper, then i want it
SpOoKyMaN: uh...i'm not
SpOoKyMaN: i'm the onion
SpOoKyMaN: i'm the shit
danielle48: know your onion/your shit
SpOoKyMaN: wtf your fuck
danielle48: wtf you're beastly
SpOoKyMaN: wtf your eastly
SpOoKyMaN: like from the east
SpOoKyMaN: your so much from the east your from the west
danielle48: you're... a northern brown bear
SpOoKyMaN: thats how east you are

okay.
I'm sorry for the lack of originality of this post.
the end.

For once in my life I see pure love staring right back, right back at me.

2008-02-11T13:02:00.000-05:00

We are only 18.
And we are so in love.
And I am a horrible person for treating him this way.

It's not a regular thing.

It's not that I'm horrible one-hundred percent of my life.

Just sometimes, I'm angry without thinking.

And sometimes, I let stress get to me.

But never should I ever take that out on him.

our cracking bones make noise

2008-02-09T09:16:00.001-05:00

Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts?
Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts.
So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess,
And to stop the muscle that makes us confess.

BEST CD EVER!

In other news:

1) I had a dream that I was black and got my hair cut extremely short on orders of my Field Hockey coach. This is probably the most paradoxical dream I've ever had, as my field hockey coach should never be making executive decisions on others' haircuts because she has a mullet.

2) Matt and I played with a Brazilian church band yesterday. It's such a liberating experience. Neither of us are very religious people, but the music evokes a passion that you just don't see in other genres.

3) I am most likely legally deaf. While singing with the Brazilians, I sung the wrong words to one very simple song the entire session.

Correct Lyrics: "Let it rain; open the floodgates of heaven" - a clever little play on words

My Lyrics: "Let it ring; open the front gates of heaven"

It's so incredibly typical. For me, life is just a blissful series of misheard lyrics.

tell am I right to think that there could be nothing better?

2008-02-08T11:51:00.000-05:00

My horoscope told me that Taurus is a materialistic sign. I am not materialistic, but nonetheless, I have compiled a tentative list of things I like.

snapple facts! but diet peach iced tea is the only kind i like.

The Postal Service's Singles "Nothing Better" and "Brand New Colony"
Also, "Such Great Heights", but I prefer the Iron & Wine version from the Garden State soundtrack.

naturally, it's a raptor. a creepy, unrealistic one from Jurassic Park (another thing I love - that movie.) In actuality, the dinsosaurs used in Jurassic Park to represent "velociraptors" are a similar type of dinosaur called a "Deinonychus". But, you have to admit, they do look really cool in comparison to the real velociraptor, which is scrawny and small.

Music in general. Also, world peace, despite knowing that it isn't possible until we learn to live with eachother's differences. How can we have world peace with Americans who assume every Arab is a terrorist? Or Catholics who believe that Atheism is the devil's religion? Sigh.

Matt Roy, my favorite thing ever. The best person to ever tread the Earth's sediment. I love this boy so much.
Side Note: Those are apples.

So, there you have it. Of course there are more things I like and dislike, but perhaps I will add to them later.

am I being too analytical?

2008-02-07T16:47:00.000-05:00

Matt read my last post. He made me realize something extremely significant that I'd like to point out:

matt: sorry
matt: i just didnt understand it
matt: the way it is written made me feel like crap
matt: i do not dig every day
matt: and i have been doing good
matt: and i didnt dig at all today
matt: there was no diggage at all
matt: not even alittle
me: i dont mean you were being annoying by digging, its just what we do
matt: i thought we were talking not digging

He proves to me that not only was I wrong, but I used horrible word choice. We do not go back in forth, in a manic cycle of digging and repressing. That is the pattern we once followed, but we don't do that anymore.

Now, we just talk.

So, when I asserted that Matt dug everyday (which is not what I meant), it was interpretted negatively.

And, just for clarification purposes, Matt is not trying to come to terms with my mistakes, as he has already come to terms with them. I, on the other hand, need some serious work in learning to live with past mistakes, which have been dutifully and rightfully unearthed by the only person who cares enough about me to point out my glaring faults.

are we being too careful?

2008-02-07T13:37:00.000-05:00

I'm the type of person who forgets the past. The type of person who pushes it away, burying it so deep that it no longer exists.

He is the type of person that lives in it. The type of person who constantly digs at the truth, unearthing the buried past that always exists - no matter how deep in the soil it is planted.

Does that mismatch us or does it fits us together? Perhaps both. We really are perfect together, despite our distinct and opposing differences; like fitted parts of a colorful and confused wooden puzzle, we mesh.

Anyways, today, as with everyday, he dug and I, the proclaimed repressor, did not repress.

Example:
matt: they have drinking parties there
me: what does that have to do with anything?
me: oh.
me: wait.
me: don't answer that.

The gmail-chat would really make more sense if the situation was known, but we'll leave it at this: I made a whole bunch of mistakes when I first came to college, and Matt wants to re-live one of them so he can finally come to terms with it. He also wants to make me re-live them until I'm okay with what I did, but I honestly do not consider that a possibility.

Side note: Spring season Field Hockey is kicking my ass.

let's take a moment to ponder...

2008-02-06T18:28:00.000-05:00

I am currently taking a break from essay number two of three to ponder the title to my last post.

"turn out the lights
and what are you left with?"

The simplistic (perhaps cliche) answer would read: nothing.

But, in my small, irrelevant world of thoughts and ideas (also full of dinosaurs, mind you), the true answer is this:

When you turn out the lights, you are left with your thoughts, your morals, your past, and your future.

And that, my friends, is something to believe in.

turn out the lights and what are you left with?

2008-02-06T11:47:00.000-05:00

Aqualung is my new love. I have to be careful not to exhaust all of Matt's iTunes money on them, especially because Aqualung isn't exactly his type of music (we're talking Coheed and Cambria, Chiodos, and, oddly enough, Nobou Uematsu). Also, he doesn't know that I bought "Anyone Else But You" (the version by Ellen Page and Michael Cera), and don't tell him, because if he knew, he would be mildly tempted to slaughter my extensive collection of odd, mellow music.

Side note: I rate Juno among my favorite movies. It is right up there with Garden State, Amelie, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

However, nothing quite compares to Walt Disney's cinematic masterpiece, Beauty and the Beast. The tragically unrealistic love story always makes my heart swell, and the sweet perfection of the ending makes me tear up every time. I'm pathetic, I know, but I don't exactly care.

Inspirations, conception.

2008-02-05T12:28:00.000-05:00

Inspiration as in evokative thought brought on by others:
http://thousandsofpossibilities.blogspot.com/
http://foundmagazine.com/comments/767

Conception as in the planted seeds of a future birth of an idea. A possible idea, that births an innumerable amount of possibilities.

My life, you see, as a college student with far too much on her stained and ripped paper plate, is really a giant bucket filled to the rim with various possibilities that I simply do not have the time to afford.

I have a lot of things in my posession, but time is not one of them.

Why, then, write in a seemingly meaningless blog when there is no time to afford and three papers to write? To create a small pocket of air in a giant bucket full of unfulfilled possibilities.