lame poetry: i'm an old car

(Everyone needs a jump-start every now and then, right?)
-


I'm an old car.

Antique.

Treasure me. Trash me. Pawn me.

Repair.

Turn me
electric or solar.
Really, I don't care.

Make me, once again, useful
and so much more meaningful
than before. Grab the keys, kid.

Let's drive.


-lilxerica

thought/poetry: walking to the library

A walk through the gloom and gray tends to give time for the sealing of thoughts and perception of the new. Sensitivity heightens and our surroundings, we become aware. Walk, walk--a brand new story is born, but often lies unrecorded, lacking paper.

-

Mental processes: Walking to library.

Forgot hat, but decides not to go back.

Snow begins to fall lightly. Ear phones snug in ear.

Volume up, cars begin to hum.

Gust of wind, sparkles fly daintly through the air.

Stare at the houses. Magnetic glares, still time; axis.

Only the thin sheets of white tissue paper slide by.

Step 1, Step 2, Step 3. A large crack. Beneath the surface, what is seen?

Not solid nor soil, but a deep darkness; no ground. 

Wonder to what degree is our stability?

Where the sidewalk ends...

It's like a photographic, artistic film. 

Music beams. 

Expression shows. 

Noises blend into nothing. 

It's beauty.

Fragments sewn together,

Another nice day.

-lilxerica

older poetry: golden loom

GOLDEN LOOM
threads fall across the structure
weave on by
precious memories sewn
into the indents of my mind
the loom holds tight
through the battle of time
but breaks after a single thread
is removed from the wood
and stands alone
without the others
it is nothing
but taking the crystalline needle
it is sewn back in
into the golden loom
and reuniting with the others
in unison.

(-1.30.08)

-lilxerica

poetry: bud

One blooms.
The others watch,
waiting to soon break out of the bud
and come to life with blossom.





-lilxerica

event: memorial day

Memorial Day










Remember the willpower

strength and perseverence
some went through

Remember the struggle

fight strain and pain
some endured

Remember the skill

strategy and intelligence
some held

Remember the quiet

hopeful wait
some were forced to feel

Remember their acts of heroism

passion and longing
some had

Remember the price

in which we pay for
the battles won
and battles lost

Remember the tears

of joy and sadness

that poured down those cheeks

in search of a tint or maybe a pint more of a filling of
hope.

Remember the lost.

Think of the Forgotten.

Reminsce the Rememberance.

-lilxerica

random poetry: peaches

Peaches
are amazing.
Sweet in taste.
Perfect,
tended in the cold.
Stories inspired
by their appearance.
fuzzy, round and smooth.
James feasted on them.*
Girls bounded with them.**
The scent is pleasant in the air.
Fresh,
delightful, and
new,
peaches are superior to any fruit.

-lilxerica

*"James and the Giant Peach"
**"Peaches" and "The Secret of Peaches"

older poetry: love's definition

define love for me please.

love is hard to understand perfectly

love is hard to know thoroughly


love is unbearable to lose


love is trickling to my skin


love is feeling emotion undescrible


love is the blush on my face

love is the laughter from our mouths


love is-

you.

7/26/06

-lilxerica

poetry: who i am

I'm Lilxerica.

I like photography,
I enjoy taking pictures,
but I'm no expert photographer.

I appreciate music,
I listen to a variety of genres,
but I'm far from a musician.

I can pick up a pencil,
I am able to manipulate paper,
but I'm definitely not a Picasso.

I leap out of joy to visit the foreign,
I'm always anxious to taste new ethnic foods,
but sadly, I'm not a money tree.

I smell the mouthwatering aromas
from the kitchen,
And I can heat, stir-fry, and boil,
but maybe someday, not now though,
I'll cook like my mom or dad.

However,
I may not be a lot of amazing talented things,
but I think, believe, and wait-
actually know
that I am me.

-lilxerica

older poetry: A Request.

A Request

Oh Lord release me of this pain i feel.

the pain that burdens me ever so.

the burden that weighs these weak shoulders.

i have been troubled and in distraught.

frustrated and in the dark.

the dark bleek abyss that swallowed my every bit of joy.

the shadow i loomed over that haunted my countless dreams of wonder.

the nightmares drove me onto the edge.

the edge that i nearly slipped to fall into a deep state of insanity.

the horror, the pain, the silence of my life had been slaughtered by the villians of the night.

grasping just a gasp of this very air so fragrant and gentle.

may i have found this piece of mind?

this "happiness", this feeling of rejoice over truimph of my greatest fears?

i think not.

for the sweet sounds and whisps of air are outnumbered and

ousted by the thundering beats and cutting swords of sharp invisible insults.

left as frail and nimble as a victim of plague,

i am caught vulnerable in so many conditions of failure.

my will, my strength, my power

all disappeared. vanished

in the middle of the night

Oh Lord my thread of hope is thin

the eversweet fruits of life i once held deep in these arms

have melted and been grounded into this barren earth

so wasted and useless. just like my sense of justice

Lord, i implore

lift me of the burdens and sorrows once more

come to side and relieve my mind

of this sicking pain and sharpening blade

that punctures my every part of this

weak sorrowful soul

Let me rest

Let me have peace

Let me restore what is drawing near the shore

My request

the request of

Tranquility.

(1/11/07)

-lilxerica

like a chicken: cooped up

Cooped Up, like a chicken

That's sometimes how I feel.

Just plain and simple
Cooped up, like a chicken.

I can't possibly be
like a chicken
in a cowardly way,
because as
Cooped up, like a chicken
as I am
there is no place to go.

No where to wobble and cringe
recoiling in fear
as since I'm
Cooped up, like a chicken
the pen will keep me in here.

The eyes of people
will reap me of my privacy
exposed, like in a glass case
A transparent, thin yet impenetrable
Glass Case.

This firm case will enclose my feathers
Shake them off
Scared, frozen
Maybe not like a chicken
I will weep.

Under everyone's watch
my throat seems to tighten
Cooped up, like a chicken
has taken a toll on me
with suffocation.

Did you know a chicken can survive a limited amount of days headless?

Through the wires
of the pen
I attempt to wiggle
my way out.

It's useless though
as the farmer scoops
me back to rot and be
Cooped up, like a chicken
once again.

Flapping wings
that show no use
I gain only less than a foot.

Nature made me this way
Am I always so destined
to lose?

Cooped up, like a chicken
I gawked at others
but secretly wish
I were them

not
Cooped up, like a chicken
that will later become dinnertime's food.

Many sick chickens are slaughtered and eaten by by us first.

The farmer's steps
are heavy with weight
thundering as he approaches.

A great large shadow
is overhead and floats across the pen.

He unlatches the pen and gropes for
the ugliest
sickest
chicken
to be cooked.

Of course it's me.
I shout and scream
defying the fact, I’m
Cooped up, like a chicken.

Frighten by, the ugly shrill
He steps back.

I continue this horrid scene of me being
Cooped up, like a chicken
and try to escape by falling
to the hay-stack ground.

From there,
The farmer bends down
and once again does the similar routine
of scooping me back up to once again be
Cooped up, like a chicken
with no hope.

Yet no,
This shalln’t happen.

I flap my wings with force and strength
shedding the dirty feathers.

My chicken feet bloom
from repulsing sticks
to flesh and bone.

The dull beak that
once fed from animal fodder
has become tender
bright pink lips
soft to touch.

Finally broken up of my state of being
Cooped up, like a chicken
I give the audience
that once stared
an icy glare
from my deep brown eyes
no longer weak, self-conscious and beady.

I am no longer
Cooped up, like a chicken.

-lilxerica

2008

Just before the day ends...
let us celebrate the beginning of a new year
(if you haven't already).

Goodbye 2007!

Remember the cheer
Remember the tears

Recall the past
But lay it to rest
with a wonderful new year upon us.

Welcome 2008!

-lilxerica

hands

Hands

look at these hands

they can type

up a story from your mind

look at these hands
they can cook
a big chocolate pie only for you

look at these hands
they can feel
your emotion running through your veins

look at these hands
they can brush
the air like palm trees do

look at these hands
they can make
something impalpable seem so real

look at these hands
they are yours.

-lilxerica