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A Letter to Daddy [Mar. 5th, 2012|02:48 pm]
Write a poem. Post the poem. We'll discuss.
Dear Daddy:
A day does not go by,
that I do not think of you.
When you found me at six and a half months old,
you did what you felt you had to do.
You had not been a father by blood,
but you didn't matter. .
you had been the one who cared. .
the one deserving of the honor of being called "Daddy."
I remember the last day we came to see you in the hospital.
We fed you mashed potatoes,
and I told you that I LOVED you.
You smiled.
You thought that I did not love you;
but you did not know how much I DID love you.
When I came to see you before you died,
you did not know how I went uot into the hall and cried.
You never knew that I came to the funeral home to see you.
Aunt Edna brought me.
It was the night before you were buried.
I told you again. .how much I loved you. .
then I gave you a kiss good-bye.
A final kiss, deserving of the most wonderful Dad in the world.
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(no subject) [May. 15th, 2006|03:42 pm]
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[mood |artistic]
[music |The Who]

Hello all. I stumbled across your nice little community and decided to join up... it seems a little backdated, but hopefully I can inject some life into it.

I'm a foolish poet, really. I experiment with different styles and such, but I haven't really found any medium I'm good in. I've written a few good poems (I've been told) and keep a composition book. I've studied poetry and analysed it in classes, so I like to think of myself as a fairly good interpreter, but maybe not.

So, without further adieu, I'll share a more recent one. No title, and a little archaic. Here we are:
If, perhance, I should be lost
my path is not the trail.
If, perchance, that we should met,
I pray my words not fail.
If, perchance, that you wander lonely

then may we wander together.
From the trail we may dare to stray
for hope that our paths may cross
and make the trip together.
There we are. Enjoy.
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(no subject) [Jun. 22nd, 2005|12:17 am]
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Wrote it for an english project on post-traumatic stress disorder.

One day I came home from school
To find my daddy dead
He was lying there upon the ground
A bullet in his head

The gun held loosely in his hand
A single bullet blown
The bedside table spattered red
A note lying alone

My name was scrawled upon the top
In ink for all to see
A single tear slid down my cheek
He died thinking of me

It told me he had seen too much
He di’n’t know what to do
Images running through his mind
Reminding him of you

The army made him kill said he
The enemy told him, “die”
It was all he could do to stay alive
All he could do not to cry

He watched the enemy waltzing in
Watched them drag you away
Watched as they crushed your skull to dust
Never to see another day

The horrors he had seen in war
Were nothing I could fathom
There’s no way to escape that pain
Except maybe through bourbon

Always drunk he was rarely home
I thought I hated him
But reading this I realized now
I was more to him than kin

He loved me more than he could bear
I was his only son
But no longer could he handle life
And so he took the gun

I feel I understand him more
Than I ever did in life
Yet what I do not understand is
Why he left his wife

Still, in his death I honour him
Though it was a suicide
I understand the choice he made
For no longer could he hide
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(no subject) [May. 6th, 2005|12:51 pm]
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she fixes her brown hair with flecks of gold
as it flows over her sloped shoulders
covered by only a strap and some cloth
she sits staring at the black board
beginning to see his face form
out of memories
overflowed with daisies and all night conversations
Now overshadowed by a pillow covered in mascara
and a bedroom floor with with a carpet once
beige, now white
The tears begin again
as she snaps back to the classroom
with the chalk and the red numbered clocks
as the composed woman she'll let them think she is
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Hello O__o [Apr. 16th, 2005|06:43 pm]
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[mood |complacentcomplacent]
[music |Behemoth]

Hey, i'm new, i'm working on anything at the moment, so heres something i wrote a couple of months ago.

An Inkwell For Your Tears

Your eyes tell us a story,
A beautiful script of destiny and pain,
Behold in those eyes your life drowning in ink,
Paper cuts in the shadows hold back your fear,
Typewriters march up and down the lane,
Whispering there bitter truths to you,
The constant pounding of keys sounding in your thoughts,
Engrave your hope on a broken tablet,
Praying to the cult of the ever heralded fate,
You ask your unanswerable questions,
Pleading for sympathy in a non-fiction storybook world,
You look into the punishing snow,
Seeing only a blank page in the book that is your suffering,
Your eyes reflect the burning images on the water,
Past futures that have long since taken their toll,
But bitterness always resurfaces to mock your strength,
Cry your tears into my inkwell,
Let them wash away the scars this quill has procured,
We will rewrite this masterpiece of emotional deception,
And in our wake we will forfeit this hateful bondage,
Waking in our inkwell to seek what it is that truth is,
I will catch your tears,
And tell you story,
The whole world will know your suffering.
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not that it matters anymore [Apr. 2nd, 2005|11:11 pm]
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ill close my eyes and let the tears turn to puss
causing them to crust shut
until you come back and bring something
to wipe the fog away
until you make it clear that everythings going to be okay
becuase my mind works faster and harder
then your callous voice
and i can't believe those three words
that a week ago made death seem okay
now, nothing seems okay
not even the way you lay down next me
and look at me
your eyes say goodbye the way your voice can't
you say you love me
but your not even here
even when your holding me
your already gone
and you can say that we're gunna make us work
but i can't do it all
and you dont even seem to be trying
or caring
and im crying again
the way i have been for days
but the only thing that evokes any emotion from you
is when i say
ive never had a green apple before
then your voice changes
and you dont seem so closed off
but these tears
that make my eyes close tight
they dont even reach you.
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(no subject) [Mar. 30th, 2005|10:24 pm]
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[mood |calmcalm]
[music |just computer droning]

guess I was feeling creative again

Now is not the Time
Justin Rodriquez, 30 March 2005

Still my beating Heart
Cease my lamenting Soul
Beasts in dispute
overwhelm the Mind
Whose vindications dissapoint
these longful Eyes
That encourage the hopeful Tongue

While lonely arms hold eachother
Silent feet slowly back away
Away to your home
Tommorow is after all
a new Day
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(no subject) [Mar. 24th, 2005|01:32 pm]
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first post - writing this as i go

they're just words
can you find something in there
just some toenail clippers and quarters on top of what
could only be a freeway.
i exist in a blahblahblahblah, who cares
and flowerly language this and imagery that
and fried rice that's too oily
and UH OH its time to make the donuts
and so what if i do
wanna eat them with me? CREME!
ah man, I'm just bored
i have to go to the store.
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(no subject) [Feb. 27th, 2005|05:47 pm]
Write a poem. Post the poem. We'll discuss.

Hello. New member. I was pointed over to this communtiy by Justin (neutronstar) and I decided to give it a look-see. Everyone seems helpful with constructive criticism.

Justin wanted me to post a poem I wrote a couple of days ago, but to tell the truth I don't really like it at all. So, I'll offer this one up for my first post instead. I wrote it awhile back, but I was looking through my writing and thought of some edits that I think made it a better poem... so here goes:

breathe deeply,
exhale, let it all go:
it should be easy.
but still...
i suffocate,
choking on my own words

i wish i could reach inside
and pull my heart out
just to prove
i have one

meanwhile a familiar
tingle of electricity
bursts from my veins
and drips in hot angry red
on the sidewalk,

i am beautiful when i cry;
shoot me down again.

Sometimes I surprise myself by how emo I can get *grimaces* I'm not suicidal, btw. Comments, anyone?
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(no subject) [Feb. 21st, 2005|10:57 pm]
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[mood |cheerfulcheerful]
[music |Radical Dreamers - Chrono Cross]

Heh, I was going over some of my past journal entries and I found this...I remember I wrote it a long time ago out of a mixture of boredom and confusion. I guess when I wrote it I was just rambling, but i suppose it could be considered poetry. I sort of just slapped a title on it just now.

Justin Rodriquez 20 December 2004

Settle back into the haze

Into the mist and Into the shadows

Into the bliss of your stupor

There inlies hapiness

Happiness of the moment
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