Black Sheep Poem

She is a peace sign tatooed on her wrist and screeching laugh stuck in her throat
she is knee high boots, hand sewn denim, and forgotten cigarettes
she is a fallen homecoming queen sufficating in a quiet suburbia
toe nails chipping red and a cuss word stamped to nude lips
hemp weaving vegan who spends reckless weekends kissing dirty bussiness men and saving the planet
sipping whiskey dressed in diamonds and tying forest green scarves in chestnut hair
she used to smile at strangers and light up a room
dazzle ying yang hearts and cheer at pep ralleys
scowl at horoscopes and revel in rap songs
she was loved and admired and her grey eyes were empty
now they're filled with poetry and harmonicas and slow dances in quiet graveyards
Joni Mitchell and Maya Angelou
now they're filled with the kind of truth that you only find in the strum of a guitar
with ethnic food and quiet meditation and candle lit alleys
now she paints her fate on tarot cards and stores her heart in a crystal ball
outcast from the life she knew because
all that honesty is witchcraft to the world
and the spells she is casting are starting a revolution

elton john photoshop

Made in America

Made in America

Perfection is like muscles stretched taught over bone
Covered with a transparent layer of sun kissed flesh
Tan skin sweeping over an aching machine
Tired and worn from seventeen years of performance
Sixteen years of heartache
Fifteen years of questions
Fourteen years of confidence
Thirteen years of awkward adolescence
Created on America’s assembly line
Beautiful blondes pieced together by worn Indian hands of underage workers
Angel’s wings dragging on the dirty floor of a toxic factory
Sweeping up combination skin and yellowed teethe
Vacuuming the discarded flaws of the broken hearted into a dumpster of unrealistic expectations
New shipments of billboard bodies in trucks advertisement covered trucks
Pouting lips
Dainty waists
Wide eyed stupidity to cover the pages of magazines and set standards you will never reach
Thin wrists draped with silver charm bracelets
Pretty poets evaporating into sunny skies in a world where the truth
Is airbrushed
And beauty
Is manufactured

pearly white teethe fantasies

Walking my puppy down windy easter streets lined with victorian houses and I'm beggining to love this new life. Waving goodbye to my charmed days of credit cards and lean cuisine meals was hard but now i have someone to talk to on the phone until three in the morning while candles burn and shadows of skinny deer walk past my bedroom window. Now i have michael buble songs eating me alive and a puppy im falling for with each passing day. I have best friends to drive with and a beautiful faith to mold with glitter covored hands. I have job applications and dreams of pearly white teethe. I have hope to cling to on this cold Sunday afternoon.

I have been snapping pictures like a mad woman these past few days. Trying desperatly to capture all the beauty swirling around me but my finger doesnt work fast enough and the moments are slipping through my new digital camera. Blue eyed best friend dancing in the rain, blonde haired birthday girl wearing a crown with her hands on the wheel and her heart hungry for freedom, track running goddesses banging on a brown haired boys drum set and laughing. Tommorow I go back to school for the first time in a month and I can not wait to smell that dirty beautiful fucked up world called high school again.

Nothing to Hide my Blue Eyes Under

AT THE BOTTOM OF MY PAGE I NOW HAVE A PLAYSLIST OF SONGS--> the soundtrack to my life. for your enjoyment<3
2 AM and I collapsed on top of my purple covers last night. Oh it tastes so sweet to be home but my hair is gone and I keep reaching for those long blond waves. Now they are lying idly on some salon floor and I have nothing to hide my blue eyes under. Maybe I never should have hid them in the first place but I can hardly recognize myself in this short bob with the bangs that fall in my face like a pretty accident. One day I'll blow kisses to that mirror again but right now my confidence is teetering and I can't stop looking at pictures of girls in prom dresses that make me feel hideous. I guess all girls have these days. Wasn't I the one who said we were beautiful on our own? We are, but I'm only human.
Dancing in the rain with two of the most beautiful girls in the world. Splashing on slick black streets and soggy white petals from the flowering trees fall down onto our shoulders and stay there the whole car ride home. A million digital pictures because if I could have an eternity oh those moments would have been it. Twirling under charcoal skies and sprinting barefoot to my best friends car. Singing with the thunder and laughing until my sides were throbbing with joy.
I have new songs swimming in my head these days. New melodies to ride bikes past preteen skaters and dust mahogany blinds to. New tunes to sway my hips to and fall in love to and shove my face to and dance and dance and dance to. These songs have won me over and I have surrendered to their every acoustic guitar because i am so easily seduced by one brilliant song. I can't wait to sing in the front seat of your car again.

censor my heart

Sliding on the kitchen floor in my socks and watching my little Hippie wag her tail and eat pinecones in the front yard. Nuns in navy blue Expedition's driving into the convent accross the street and Hall&Oates on the radio. Yes, I am home again.

I am home and singing in the car while I drive to Krogers to eat icing in the deserted grocery store aisles with my best friend. Home again to read about my tarot cards and waste away in licorice flavored therapist appointments. After sitting in a wheelchair in the Cincinnati airport alone my father looked like an angel in Abercrombie. That hug didn't last nearly long enough.

Back to school this morning and I have never felt as loved as I did in their arms. Beautiful smiles and smells of my high school hallways. Those florescent lights and tile floors are a blessing in disguise, and I wish I could see the green and white of their pep ralley. They don't know how beautiful they are.

Sweating in an overseized gym in purple shorts and old nikes. Running towards nothing and away from everything while Queen drowns me from the overhead speakers. These people smell like tanning oil and protein shakes and when I get home I'm eating a pint of Graeters. On the phone with my dad and I'M SORRY FOR THESE WORDS.

I'm sorry if they hurt you. I'm sorry if they made your face flush with unwanted knowledge. I'm sorry if they stopped you in your tracks. But I'm not sorry I wrote them. These are my truths. These are my soul. I refuse to take back all this brutal honosty with a click of my mouse because this poetry is too precious for that. Maybe someday you'll see, I never meant to hurt you,

but i refuse to censor my heart.

Lying on the back porch, bathing in Ohio spring sunshine and talking to a boy about Austrialia and MTV. Someday we will eat thai food and talk for hours over coffee and small miracles happen when you get to know a stranger in the hallways of your highschool. You can find friends even in the darkest places.

The Greatest Artist of All Time

Sizzling spiced hamburger and melted cheese, today I made my first enchilada. Dominating the kitchen in my best friends sweat pants and sweet smells of mexico fill this house. Sitting alone and smiling because tommorow I will finally get to run into my mothers arms again. Tommorow I will remmember how gently she held me- how breakable I was all this time. Yes I am fragile but oh, I did not break. I did not shatter. I stood tall knowing that I can do this on my own. I can write poetry in the chandelier glow that lights my nights of insomnia and soak up musicals about unrequited love in the sands of ancient Egypt. I can ride a bike down gravel roads in a floppy pink hat and freestyle rap about wasted weekends under my breath as I fly by wrinkled strangers who stare. I can find sanctuary in books with tattered pages and open my eyes to the love that I am being showered with. Because I have stopped worrying,wishing,regretting,aching about tommorow’s lovely trials and yesterdays dirty words. I have stopped wondering what could have been and what might be- its all inconsequential. What matters is the windchimes singing through this open window and the newly born enchiladas sitting on an oak table in the other room. What matters is these words, because they are here. Right now. In a moment they will be nothing but a memory- a pretty inspiration that struck before dinner but right now they are infinite. Right now they are flowing from my fingers with a life and a soul all their own. I can breathe again because I know that all of these dead ends have lead me to a masterpiece. I can stop worrying because every second of my world is a piece of art that can never be duplicated. I can find peace because the greatest artist of all time is painting a masterpiece. And I am living it out.

Today a pretty blonde boy restored my faith in our generation.

Thank you.

It was fading fast.