bluedisch.'s blog

he thinks that it is really just a race for the most poems,
a competition for first place on the "all bloggers" page.

you look so much bigger when i don't stand next to you, and i wonder how much i block the sun from your face when i am standing over you.
i wonder if maybe i'm not really as useful as i'd like to think. you do fine on your own, no matter if some things that you do and say make me want to yell at you and tell people about the things you've done wrong.
this is far from beautiful or quaint; it's just my realization that it would be better if i stayed away from you and let it all blow over.

headphones can drown the world for mere minutes, and sleep can kill it for hours, but truly? in the end there is nothing that can silence the world temporarily without silencing yourself permanently. there must be another way to cope with this mindless chatter and questioning banter. this is where we wait repeatedly for someone else who can help to damper the annoyances of the world without killing it, so that we may sleep at night. one person out there knows how to put us to sleep and smother the seemingly endless thoughts going through our brains. we are forced to find our own survival techniques while we find this person. after all, we can't forget that the other person is relying on us to drown the world for them, too.

I was looking to come back and show you
me, personalized, not just
a mismatched "she" in a poem.
I wanted to tell you show
you the fluttery moths in me that remind my eyes
to see you.
I wasn't sure where, or how you were;
I couldn't find you.
I wanted to destroy the needy urges to rush into your arms, those arms that had long since disappeared under my touch.
Now all I want is to find you, and for you to find me.
I've always wanted you to show me who you are.

I. Why are door knockers usually
only gold-colored? What's wrong
with copper, or silver, or (gasp)
PURPLE? Do even the door knockers
have to conform?

II. You're bound to say I look like
a boy; before you do, don't.

III. Just because something is little,
it is NOT necessarily worthless.

IV. I look like I'll break, perhaps, but
I don't feel like that if you poke me.

V. Bathrobes are kind of pointless.

VI. I miss you. Come back so I can say
"I love you."

VII. Chairs with wheels are definitely
better than those without.

VIII. Whoever invented tissues and tissue
boxes must have been pretty cool.

IX. You're not ugly or fat. Far from it.

X. People can be geniuses and still make
stupid remarks. This is discouraging.

XI. My vacuum-cleaner is broken.

XII. Where is everyone? It's summer!

XIII. Do you prefer green or purple? No,
I wasn't talking about popsicles. On the
contrary, I was referring to life.

Sorry.

I messed
up.

It's a little
short.

No, don't worry, you look
great.

Really. There are just a few
chunks.

I hope you don't
mind.

It's just
hair.

and suddenly there is a rush
of time? maybe, or of love...
depending on the outlook of the
on-looker looking on...
and here everyone seems to exist
again, filling up the world.
I'm so relieved to feel you again
that I'm not worried about last night's
nightmares, yesterday's fights,
I'm just happy to be here,
alive, with everyone, not
alone.

It scrunched over my head,
sandpapering me slightly, and I
worried that I'd attract too much
attention from random shoppers
trying to find a mirror;
a silly thing to do when I already
felt like i was wearing a million mirrors
and loving it.

Difficult enough
is the task of hiding
Worse, when he didn't
realize I was
hiding.
Tell me again where the
irony in that is?

It might have been
the
best pool I've ever graced
with my presence
(they all love me,you know)

but maybe I was slightly
excited to be near you
The reasons for such
happiness are always
a bit--
blurred? shall
we say... or
maybe that was just an excuse to
forget how much I had missed
you.

She was supposed to
be catching a bus.

It (he?) drew her in
and wouldn't let go.

Seeing a ride drive past
had never felt so good.

and then I saw you,
staring eye-to-eye at me
like you were attempting
telecommunication through
the peephole in a door.
i wondered how you were
seeing the world; on the other
side of those round glass dots,
outside appears as if through
a fishbowl.
maybe that was what had distorted
your view of me when we first met.

does anyone ever
really find the
title
before they find
the poem?

i don't have to tell
you why i like nutella
on bread so much if you've
ever tasted that
stuff? is not a word noble
enough to describe it. a nutella
dictionary might include:
lovely, delicious, smooth,
yummy, WHEEEEEE, sugar, fun,
rotund jar of heaven,
chocolate. okay,
okay...I'm getting
carried away. must go
back to my bread.

Yesterday, I
met you; today,
we're done.