By request...

At the request of Dustin, I am posting 2 original works of poetry from my recently released collection. Heh heh heh.
The first is an ode poem, in which we were required to choose something we admire, and sing its praises.
The second is a sonnet. All about meter and verse, rythm and rhyme scheme. My rough draft was really cheesy and lame, so I scrapped it and started over. Don't worry, I'm not really angsty or anything... I just read a lot of Sylvia Plath.

Ode to My Clever Mind

It’s not easy being this awesome.
and I say this without putting on any airs,
but the raw, inarguable truth of it
is that I am the coolest person I know.

Now, I don’t want to sound conceited,
but if you knew me as well is I do,
you’d probable be aware of my eminence,
because frankly,
it shows.

I’ve never bothered to investigate,
but I’m sure several of my peers
harbor secret aspirations to be

Quick witted
and brilliant
and clever like me.

To be smart
and artistic
and big-hearted like me.

To be charming
and flash disarming
smiles like me.

And I realize that few
would be humble enough to admit
that they worship the ground that I walk on,
but to disregard my extraordinary nature on the whole
seems a little unnecessary,
doesn’t it?

It’s almost like they can’t see how amazing I am.
And I am…

…Aren’t I?



Sonnet I

She held a broken mirror in her fist,
Her knuckles turning white, her tight’ning grip
Drained feeling from her fingers, hand, and wrist.
Another goddamn masochistic trip.
Her body was her canvas. She was art.
Her pale skin beckoned her, come heal your pain.
Unleash the red life flowing to your heart.
She pressed the shard of glass against her vein.
Weeks later she awoke in some strange bed
With white-gloved strangers standing by her side.
So this is what it feels like to be dead –
Like watching life go by from the outside.
With that she prayed the Lord her soul to keep,
Returning to her black and dreamless sleep.

Yep. That's my poetry at its finest. I guess.