Paroxysmal

Je t'aime.

nobody@vox.com(N. Beck) — Sun, 12 Nov 2006 02:19:26 -0600

I can't really fall asleep right now. I've been reading for awhile--I really like how James Baldwin writes.

let's take off
all our bobbles and pretenses
and flicker around
our shrouded rooms
filled with morning dew and soft sighs

we'll fall asleep
tugging on fantasy
and funneling
queer views

throughout the interm
sighing
all over

(Not a product of James Baldwin, but of me... on this early Sunday morning when I should be sleeping since I have to drive back to college tomorrow).

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Lightning.

nobody@vox.com(N. Beck) — Mon, 06 Nov 2006 13:39:17 -0600

Her divine coffee-colored hair
Her blaring, confidant laughs ricocheting off the classroom walls
Her supple skin—
There she relaxes in front of me.

Her prinked rosy face,
With her quick, unexpected winks
Her vivacious spirit
Like soda foam tickling my mouth

Her smooth revealing skirts showing
Flesh, pink and peeking,
Her form-fitting shirt emblazoned—Lightning.
Will this hour not end?

I wrote this last year for creative-writing. We had to incorporate lightning somehow. I wanted to post some poetry since I haven't in awhile, and I think one of the original purposes for this bloggity blog was to put my writing out there for general critiques and constructive opinions because I'm all about improvement and people are more honest when they can't see the person they're critiquing (that and they don't know them as well).

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Descriptive nonsense.

nobody@vox.com(N. Beck) — Tue, 10 Oct 2006 15:32:16 -0500

Descriptions of scenes from the first two minutes of Amelie followed by a writing assignment. Enjoy (maybe).

Little girl playing by herself with cherries hung on her ears, dangling red and shiny, father in a restroom at a urinal cringing from person standing next to him, nervous expression, green walls, green socks pulled taut, red swim trunks clinging to wet legs, shiny shoes, cluttered workshop, red dress, flashy blue and black costume with sequins, cherry red purse, french cursive on a blackboard, orange fish in water, orange fish gyrating on the floor -- death wails, shades of red in neighbor's bedroom.

The orange,sun-kissed fish sits
in the water bowl -- clear, uncomplicated

The uncomfortable fish
displaying unease at the resting area

The fish, red and
slicked down after a dip
Sometimes wearing the black and blue
flashy sequins--

The green fish,
cherries swimming in the bowl,
a child's play

The water bowl filled
with green and red gradients,
suffocating the white fish,
trying to impose -- too much

Jump! Slow fall, breath of freedom.
Dancing from confinement, shortly --
hurts, no air, but so open, and free.

Swim (or flop) to the rivers of the world,
all you little children
break out of that familial residence
and explore.

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Language!

nobody@vox.com(N. Beck) — Tue, 19 Sep 2006 14:28:35 -0500

I'm going to take German. This means I'm going to be studying three languages at once, and instead of really freaking me out this excites me to no end! And I may have found the perfect major for me -- the Romance Language major (or something like that). Basically you have a concentration in two romance languages, and then generally you minor in another (or at least that's what I'm going to do). So my concentrations will be in German and Spanish, and I'll minor in Japanese. Then I can get my teaching certificate (through the MEA program here) and voila! I'm still unsure of whether I want to teach or not, but I do know I want to study abroad sometime and teach English in Japan after college.

Yay for slowly developing a plan! It's getting there. I'll write a little better update later. For now I'll leave you with something I wrote for extra credit...

They sat, they lay, and prostrated themselves
on the car as the night filled up the sky.

They all talked and yammered about
each other, the future, the past, love, the opposite.

They enjoyed the other’s company
as the stars turned on and the evening
marched forward.

The laughter filled their chests,
hurt their sides – healed their hearts.

They all needed to pick themselves up
and prepare for the oncoming years

Of being thrown into the world
away from comfort and safety

The unknown could eat them alive,
but

They will always have each other
To call on, to write to, to complain with

Our homes aren’t stationary bungles
Rooted to the ground

They are anywhere, they are
Wherever our friends go –
bundled up in their
heart strings.

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Hay and poetry.

nobody@vox.com(N. Beck) — Sat, 09 Sep 2006 09:24:33 -0500

Hay, and sunshine

Look, a photo!
This was taken when a friend and I went exploring in the countryside around my college.

Zorro and I are not committed to each other, but we both still like each other. He's on the fence for a variety of reasons and I understand that and am giving him time (but not too much time -- I don't wait around forever, but I have a lot of patience).

But anyway, I just wanted to share something I wrote.

Everyone sits around
on all the chairs--
submerged in all the nooks
they all make gestures in the air,
little jerks of emotion with
their fingertips

Barbie sits across from Andy
smoking her slims
blowing gray out her nostrils
Barbie watches Andy through
the hazy screen of her
depleted breath

Andy ticks and squirms
bites his lower lip
shuffles his hair
glances over,
down,
away.

Barbie's lips smile
as she kills her smoke--
crushing the embers as she
walks over

Andy glances up
Barbie's grinning lips part
She says,

Hi, and it goes from there.

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As the sky opened up...

nobody@vox.com(N. Beck) — Mon, 14 Aug 2006 15:16:21 -0500

Portions for Foxes

The rain came; the rain poured. The sun was out casting rays of light and haze as the drops fell. Heavy they flowed from the tremulous clouds onto the rough landscape. Meeting and greeting. Water and mud and grass. The children's toys askew on the lawn, the woman running erratically down the sidewalk, an old man hacking on a porch as the rain fell and fell and came. Washing away and dirtying at the same time. The gleaming puddles, the filth caked to the blacktop. Rain became droplets, and droplets became humid air. Everything moist; everything slowly drying as the rain stopped.

This really isn't poetry -- mainly just descriptive writing.

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Above

nobody@vox.com(N. Beck) — Fri, 11 Aug 2006 20:03:12 -0500

Look up.
The sky looms
The earth's ceiling
painted with
blues or reds
and all the hues between.

Some days
it falls
Some days
it never moves
Eternal
Everchanging
Advancing each day
one sunrise, and
one sunset at a time.

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Flimsy Sentiment

nobody@vox.com(N. Beck) — Fri, 11 Aug 2006 20:02:32 -0500

We click through life
trying to figure out
who we are
where we come from
what we're leading ourselves to
that we forget.

We forget to
look around, at the grocers
and the mail cascading through
our mail slots -- a waterfall of
correspondence, ever diminishing.

We don't try to see the newborn
infant wailing loudly as
his mother shushes and cooes.

We're blind to other's feelings.
Empathy has dried up, and out
like those red carnations in the dining room;
the water green and murky.

We're young! We're free!
We scoff at others; we write people off daily
because these are the best days of our lives,

but, if these are the best days,
then what is the future?
Those unknown days -- shrouded, hazy.

Refuse to believe one single period
is the crowning achievement of your life.
Instead, believe that every day is your best day
regardless of content, regardless of result.
Wallow and live and notice.
Don't give up; otherwise who will glance at the setting sun?
The beauty created for our benefit. It's there for you to see.
Just look.

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Are you ready?

nobody@vox.com(N. Beck) — Fri, 11 Aug 2006 20:01:56 -0500

You touch the glistening perennials--
a last grope as you soon pass
into the open, already soaked field.

Rain plummets from the sky,
a million little friends
playing on your skin, on your clothes.

You run and dance
out on that field
underneath that falling sky.

One after another people run
from the sidelines, whooping and
hollering.
They join you as the water --
those tears -- continue to cascade.
The grass is moist and
the field fills
with all.

Everyone enjoying, undulating,
loving, fighting, verbalizing.
We're all under the open
rain-soaked world
together.

Close your eyes and move.

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