Wackity wack

haha i think this one's kinda funny...

Wanting to assimilate,
dying to proliferate,
I need to be free,
goddamnit i need to be me.
Bar hopping and booty popping,
two things I don't do.
Not because I don't want to,
but more because I'm confined.
Confined behind these invisible lines
you've built up around me.
It's not that I don't love you,
because trust me baby, I do,
It's just that I need to be free,
oh dear, I need to be me.


That was my sad attempt at rhyming and now this is some other crap.

My misconception of what poetry is
has been blinding my guiding light
to feeling happy.
Enveloped in my past and only the bad,
I haven't let myself feel happiness.
It has prevented me from laughing
as hard as I know how to,
and not worrying about having a boyfriend,
instead of enjoying the happiness surrounding me.
I want to smile,
genuinely,
and say cheese.
From now on, I will.

homework

homework is not being done right now. i's 2:50 am and i should be writing up this paper. It has to be seven pages and i have one and it's due in twelve hours. Let's say ten cuz 2 of those hours I have class so they don't even count. So I'm not sleeping tonight. It's cool, I'm not sleepy right now anyway, although I did feel like throwing up all night and I just ate a tuna fish sandwich in hopes that it would subdue my weeeiiirrdd stomach pattern and it did. Deelicious! I'm talkin to esther and des even thooo I shouldn't even be on aim! IF it wasn't for the need of the internet for my resources, I would've fucking disconnected this shit and done this while sittin on my floo'.

LEt's talk about life cuz I think my poetry doesn't show the many spectrums of my life. A "friend" told me that I should stop writing like sad poems because then people will think that I'm just complaining. He has a point but I can't seem to write a good, optimistic poem; is that wrong? I feel like it's a giant flaw I have. I feel like if I write something happy, it's super cheesy, even more cheesy than my sad stuff. And I will try to start off with a happy poem and then it ends with my heart shattered. I think it's because that's what usually happens in life anyway. Wow, how could I write so much in like 5 minutes but my paper I've been attempting to write for like 4 hours?!

Why do I keep recycling my bfs? It seems like when there's no where else to turn, I turn to an ex and hope to rekindle some kind of anything! I need to stop because then I confuse myself. And they're an ex for a reason, right? Right!

This weekend I wanna go out, party harty, chill with my homies! To my troopers out in college..hurry home sonnnsss! Ok, I'm actually gonna get crackin on this paper. Woorrdd

Old poems

1.Sometimes it's hard to breathe.
I forget to breathe.
I think about a shitload of things.
And there's just so many things.
My heart races.
And my brain races.
My stomach hurts and churns
Then I throw up because it churns.
I'm temppted to put my fingers down my throat.
And sometimes I just want someone to grab me by my throat.
Writing calms be down.
And writing brings me down.
Lately I've been really tense.
Smoking helps but once the cigarete burns out, I'm back to tense.

2.Waiting for him to walk by me.
Look into me and stop. Stare.
A beautiful stare.
He's not looking at my face, opr my hair.
Or my piercings, or my clothes.
He's looking into me.
Into my soul.
Beyond now, beyong everything.
He'll take my breathe away,
and when he smiles, i'll fly.
My shy wings will spread and flutter.
His spread too, and I feel whole.

3.It's almost how surreal how real this pain feels.
I can barely thing straight and I have to push my self to deal.
Broken hearted and with only time on my hands,
All I can do is clean these pots and pans.
Over and over, time after time
I clean and I think how badly I want you to be mine.
These emotions i easily hide,
and with them not visible, it's easy to get by.
omg i hate rhyming

4.

Mommy dearest

These are ones that I wrote after a somewhat arguement with my mother last night.

I don't want to be mad at you,
I know it's not your fault,
it's who you are.
And I shouldn't be so cold,
because one day you'll be gone,
and I'll be lost.
And that's why I've stayed.
Fear of losing you has held me back
from exploring the world
and starting a revolution.
I've always been a good girl,
under your wings, hanging out.
Now I want wings of my own,
but there isn't enough room for both our wings.
You've taught me all the good things,
and even your pet peeves have stayed with me.
Tomorrow, I won't go out.
I promise mami, I love you.


Y entonce esta este,

As I sat there,
trying to express my feelings to you,
I rolled, unrolled, rolled, unrolled
my manly white tube socks.
Over and over again until I stopped.
Until I noticed a lynt on the sheets and focused on that.
I couldn't look you in the eyes,
or even look at your face.
And now, laying in my own bed,
I noticed my rolled sock
and as hard as I tried to fight it,
a tear slipped from my eye.
After endless minues of resistence, I cried.
I just hope I didn't make you cry.
Staring at this sock I think of things I should've said,
shouldn't have said,
and I wonder...if I should've said anything at all.

Pretending

I was pretending,
Pretending that your venomous kiss
was my recluse, and mine alone.
Only I didn't know it was pretending,
or that I wasn't alone in the delusion.
::Don't cry out; cease fire::
I had fun, you say you did too.
You want the fun to be everlong,
but I can't pretend.
At least not for now.
Maybe later I'll come out to play.
Out of this cacoon of memories
and voices yelling, "Break me."

No se.

I was listening to music ayer en el tren, y me ocurrio esto..

There's nothing left for me to do,
I cannot love you as I once had,
and I can not impersonate who I used to be.
Renditions of our past sprinkle before me
disguised as monsters in these pages.
What had been good turned sour
because I loved you and loved me.
Maybe too much.
But as it withered you looked to another,
for comfort,
And for that I cannot forgive you.
You shattered the pieces and sent them into
extremities far beyond our reach,
or our will.

Otro mas...
As these painful songs play back to back
and they smack me with memories of yesteryear,
I feel my heart swell and tear ducts sweat.
My lips quiver.
I bite down until I taste blood,
determined not to let them get to me.
Not to let you get to me.


This one's from Sunday night...

How slowly a heart can break.
Little by little you see a bit clearer,
and as you try to put back the pieces
you realize that they don't fit.

You're a different person now
so you throw the pieces away,
and make up new ones that make sense
and that fit to your delight.

Some will resemble the old ones
because although you threw them out,
they stuck.
And then others will be nothing like the old.

Weaker or stronger,
these are fitting to you and it's ok
to throw out the ones that don't fit.


Shorty!

Woken up in a dream that was not my own.
One where I belonged and never expected to be in.
The pain in my chest is piercing,
my need to live here immense.

Mas poesia

Uno

Time after time I spit my venom into your heart
and you stand, unphased.
All the pain and the fury,
lashes out,
enveloping you in my mind
and all I get is a blank stare.


You don't know how to care for this heart.
This rainbow of shadows that never shines.
Through the dark I try to find light ti guide you into me but..
In my own darkness,
I am just as blind.


Wanting to fix this,
wanting and wanting and wanting
with no exile.
No release.
Only fury.

Dos

Drag me down into your colorful abyss
Inject me with light in my world of gray.
Fulfill my dreams and erase my conundrums.

Your face behind the mask is seductive,
like the smoke I breathe out into the night.
Wake me up before the sun comes up so
I could hold on to the night that just was.

Hold on until the morning dew alers me that what was,
was just a dream.
A haze in your kingdom.

Tres

Here it comes again.
the Fatigue that convulsed her life.
She is a robot.
Neither breathing nor living,
simply existing.
She is matter.
The pounding in her head pesists
and she cannot think.

She is in his hands again,
screaming as he watches.
She has woken up in a dream
that is not her own.
The haze slowly creeping up,
drowning her.

Poems on the train

So I don't know if anyone will be reading this or if anyone even cares but I'm going to be posting my poetry on here.

Today on the train...

Walking down this platform,
black marks of gum once chewed o nthe floor,
spray paint assalting a wall done by a
young 17 year old who wanted the city to know his name.
This music beats in my ears,
it has no words and yet so many.
The stroke of the strings, runnin through my chest.
The grace of the drums,
begging to be heard.
So much to inspire me and yet...

Another poem...
Your hands are like dawn,
smiling upon my thighs,
soft and warm, running through me.
The soft wind of your breath bellows on my neck.
The weapon of your choice inside of me like the rhythm of my favorite song.
Like the love that never disappeared.
I could on forever but I'd rahter not.

These memories resist, persist, insist
to be told, to be felt, to be alive.
I won't let them as I pretend to just be
your friend while with each stroke,
I fall harder and harder.

Wow today sucked ass

Entry 2

Goofy, reckless and dorky. That's usually me.








Well I used to do ceramics in high school and I did a pretty good job but I'm pretty sure I just think that because...I did it. So I'm not really good at anything but I have this short story that I'll use as my art work. It's pretty much untitled.

You're walking down the street, minding your own business like everyone should- but doesn't- when suddenly you're thrown off track. He's walking towards you and for some reason, you forget how to walk straight. You try not to make it obvious that you are staring at him in all of his glory but he senses you and he looks up at you with eyes you could melt in. He smiles. You die. You don't know if you should smile back because then he'll think that you want him, but if you don't, you might lose the man of your shallow dreams. So you smile and is it a coincidence that you're both going in to the same store? You try to be as cool, calm and collected as your nervouse ass can be but with every step you take, you try to be seductive which results in clumsy. You bang your leg into the door as he pulls it open for you.

"Are you ok," he asks in the most heart breaking voice, lightly touching your wrist . You can only nod. You don't want to say, "Ouch! That sure hurt!" or "Yes, thank you," without your voice cracking or him smelling your cigarette breath because he might hate cigarettes and you wouldn't want to ruin your chances with a god.

You keep walking with a new sexy limp and as you look through the C.D. racks, you try yo watch him. Read his body. Feel the warmth on your wrist where he had touched you earlier. The second time you look up at him, he's walking towards you. You're in the L section and he was in B. You pick up Lily Allen and pretend to read the back of the C.D. Wow, she's from London. You wanna look up so bad but you have to keep cool. Just keep cool. Until he slides you his number on top of the C.D. You could collapse, there is a god! That is, until he walks right past you into his girlfriend's arms.

"Hey baby, blah blah blah." Kiss, kiss, hug, hug and a wink from him to you as he turns around and walks away with all of his sexiness, shattering your hopes of ever finding someone deserving and not to clingy.

The End.

Salutations
K

Arghhdiodnkflnkl

I'm really tired and yet...here I am...chillin on the computer doing absolutely nothing! My contacts are just about ready to pop out annd my head's goin to explode. Today was such a long...useless day. Lang is awesome...I love lang and the people in it...Parsons too, don't worry.

I'm a naturally late person, so this morning I get out of the Union train station at like 8:55 and I'm like...'shit, I have to run down that huge fucking block (5th ave).' So I do but I had my laptop in my ginormous bookbag anndd my shirt seemed to disappear from my back because the bottom of the bookbag was doing some chafing with my lower back and my initial reaction was 'Oh no! My tattoo!' and then it was 'Wow stupid, it's been like 2 months it's not gonna ruin now.' Finally I thought, 'OUCH!' When i got to class I was in terrible pain cuz i seemed to have scraped half of my lower back off(<--Wow what an exaggerator).

So yea writing seminar and study skills was interesting...that Paula sure is something...so kind. Then I got to finish watching 'The Battle of Algiers." Wow what a good movie!

Oh yeah and fucking work yo! If you ever come into my tasti dlite and ask for a sample, I will throw it in your face and then jump over the counter and smash it in real well. (lmao whoa..my own anger ceases to amaze me.) I really wish I didn't have to work because those yuppies are driving me crazy and I've just become mean! To certain customers. Anyhoo I need to quit soon.

So I've just downloaded 23 songs...sure hope I don't get arrested for this! Downloaded: Damien Rice, Decemberists, Tego Calderon, Sublime, Sarah McLachlan, and Regina Spektor. Good music to last me a day.

Salutations...

K

Just call me Keludys

Well my name is Keludys Ogando. Pronounced K-Lu-Dis. I'd appreciate being called by my name but I usually respond to K or KK or Ludys...Yeah. I'm 18 years old and an incoming freshmen to Eugene Lang College. Sounds funny actually and I find myself wondering 'Why am I going to a school with a weird name?" but then again, who am I to judge? I applied to Lang because of the progressive and modern feel of the school. Just from reading about it and seeing all of it's fields of study I sensed a liberalism from it. If that makes any sense or if liberalism is even a word. Ha. I graduated from environmental Studies up in midtown and honestly, I loved high school. I was good at it and I think it's fair to say that I had a large number of friends. Starting school now, even just the summer program, is kind of nerve wrecking because all my life I went to school with friends and now...Well it's time to start over and I've come to find that that's not a bad thing. It's only the second day and I actually like the people here. Good way to start off. I don't know what I want to major in but some fields that I'm interested in are social services, media and communication, journalism, photography, environmental science and political science. Although...I'm not sure what you can do with a political science major but it sounds interesting. Well I'm into fashion but I don't keep up with artist names but one of my favorite authors is Paulo Cohelo which is who I'll be doing the presentation on! My favorite place in New York has to be Maccarean Park in Williamsburg, Brooklyn because..Well I grew up in that park! It has a soccer field{!!}, baseball fields, handball courts, children's park and just grass! This summer the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Iron and Wine will be performing in the Maccarean Park Pool and I will definitely be in there!