My Mind at 9:15 in the Morning

This time of year envelopes my soul and transforms me into some freaking poet or something. I picture myself as Dylan Thomas, a cigarette dangling from my mouth, disgruntled face, disheveled hair, frantically scrambling to untangle the thoughts from my mind and translate them onto the page. My vocabulary expands during this time of year. My soul is invigorated by the chill in the air, the breeze penetrates my body and moves me toward the paper. I am forced to write. Too many thoughts traverse my brainwaves. I have to rid them somehow. I think if you looked at my blog I probably consistently write the most October - December, and probably not at all in the summer. I think the beauty of nature ... the fact that this time of year always marks a time of change -- going back to school and actually having work and exams -- ... the fact that this is reflected in nature is just wild. Mother Earth mimics our actions. I dunno. I just shed myself and rebuild every year at this time. I vigorously chew gum, blast music, and pour myself onto paper. Anyway. I wrote some stuff while sitting in English class today and I thought I would share. I suck at poetry. I always have. It just does not flow through me like it does for some people. Alas, I admire it and enjoy giving it a shot every now and then. So, here are some horrendous attempts at poetry, as written while not paying attention to Robert Frost in class because seriously I have heard about his burial at home and the road he did not actually travel but everyone thinks he did way too many times. So, yeah. Here is what I came up with. I'll number them like Emily Dickinson to make it seem more legit.

1.

Down to the River

deep within I shiver.

I reside by the Rocks

to subside the shock.

A simple Rhyme 

to ease my mind.

Brings joy.

Simple Pleasure.

2.

Deep within I withdraw

I hate to watch it.

I close into myself.

Quiet, I become.

Silent, I hate to be.

3.

There I am, surrounded.

Can you see me?

The one there, in the middle.

Dark hair.

Pale skin.

Blue eyes.

Yes! That one. That's Me.

Right?

I think so.

It can be hard to tell sometimes.

Especially in the dark.

What do you mean the light's on?

I don't see it.

Can you hit the switch for me?

No?

What does that mean?

It's merely a simple task.

Please.

No!

Don't go.

No!

Well.

hit the light on your way out

4. 

Just a touch of fate.

A dash of luck.

Add some love.

Pile on good timing. 

The Universe shrouds me in a blanket of 

protection.

I am so proud.

I can still use some 

correction.

But.

Just a touch of fate,

and I am never late.

A dash of luck,

and I am never stuck.

Add some love,

and I meet someone sent from Above.

Pile on good timing,

and now, 

my face is shining.

5.

Only I can tell my story.

 I have the pen.

I hold the power.

6.

Cruel things

 do bring

people to cling;

what a cool thing.

7.

And we can trace it all back to

The Speck.

8.

is it worth telling

am i worth remembering

what if it is not best-selling

do the people need to hear

does my heart first need tending

will they hold my story dear

9.

Sometimes I wonder if believing in God

is an insult to my father.

I believe in my parents.

They are Santa.

They are the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny and even the Three Kings.

I was made in their likeness.

Their souls collided

to bring mine into existence.

And, isn't that beautiful and wondrous enough

to be its own religion?

I never mean to demean that. 

Do I need another father?

10. 

I have the best people

looking after my soul --

guiding my heart

back home to them.

May Mother Earth bless them.

11.

What forces 

doth merge our souls 

in this 

endless Universe of stars?

12.

And suddenly I am overwhelmed.

I am here.

Here.

HERE.

The Universe crashes over me with her existential beauty

and moves my soul along the board 

to exactly where I need to be and when I need to be there.

I relinquish control over my soul.

I relish in this wonderful--