12 / 30 : i dreamed a dream.

dc today.

i dreamed a dream

i dreamed a dream of a life worth living

and to see it go up in smoke

puff puff pass

with just one

wrong move

tears my soul in two

is there any way i can

text l. hughes and ask him

what happens to a dream

deferred

2 / 30 : character building.

character building

i fall asleep

wrapped tight in the arms of poetry

warm breath pulsing at the nape

of my neck

but i eventually i wake,

rub the syntax and synonyms out of my eyes

take a look in the mirror and

what the fuck

what the fuck do you do

when you're tired of being you

this poem needs to be shot dead in its tracks

i'm tired. i'm mad. i'm done.

22 / 30 : drowning.

to be a reading day, today was probably one of the busiest days ever in life.

check out my co-chair's blog over hereeeee. and 3030 hereeeee.

drowning

although i feel like

i let you down just know

that i'll never ever let you

drown and when you feel

that you are about to

go under or you need

to take cover feel free

to pick up the phone and 

call up 

me and i'll do what i can

to make the pain go away

cause you need to know

you're not in this alone

and if all else fails my home

is your home and i know you

think this is all fake and 

phony sounding but this is

a cry to help some one floundering

before he starts drowning

7 / 30 : hot and bothered.

so its 5:45 in the morning and today i was listening to my itouch and i hear this crazyyyy noise. my fan broke. i like to keep my room cool. my sleep cycle is already fucked and im burning up in this room and i cant sleep so...why not write it out.

i'll probably end up writing another poem by the end of the day, which hasn't legit begun. 2 poem limits per day though is the rule. i'll adhere.

....but seriously, does anyone have a fan i can borrow until the end of the month?

hot and bothered

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tied is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity

-- William Butler Yeats

i can't help by lay on my back

in my room and i'm sweating

beads sliding down my furrowed brow

as i wonder where and when

things fell apart

my fan is broken and although im 

burning up one of the main reasons

i keep it on al the time is the noise

drowns out everything in the hall

everything outside

everything in me

and now that i threw it down the chute

silence fills the room and

my thoughts are trickling down my face

and i can hear the pit pat of the

raindrops on this april morning

i guess i'll buy a new fan tomorrow

because i can't live like this

staying up until 6 am 

worrying about these issues

that are suffocating me 

with sweltering density

things fall apart

this i know to be true and i've

seen it happen so often this year

that i admit

that i've stopped trying to build up

what i know the tide will come

and wash away

but be that as it may

on this april morning i lay

veering between 

a lack of conviction and

a passionate intensity 

for the first time all year i hear

the kirkland bell tolling for me

im sweating and im swearing

that i'd stop caring

because these tools are to worn

to begin again

and why fight a battle

that you can't win

because things

fall

apart

6 / 30 : photograph.

so i went to bed at 7 am, woke up at 8:45 for class, and somehow managed to stay up until 3:30 until i fell the hell asleep. bless my heart.

mondays suck. but poems make it all better.

as usual, check out mr. marshall over here. and the 30/30 cypher here.

let's get it.

photograph

im browsing through my macbook

trying to create a slideshow of

the year past and i realized

that these memories are still

burned into my skull and

etched in my heart no matter

how far i try to put you out of my mind

and theres a picture of the two of us

candid as hell, neither looking at the camera

your mouth is wide open

big white teeth gleaming

gear fresh as usual

my chinky eyes are wide shut

as i grin with glee

and we're sharing a moment

when nothing else mattered

when we were still

best friends

and its captured on film

for me to look at and to remember

the september

before everything fell apart

and if you're reading this

just know that this poem

only a few lines long

took me 30 minutes to write

because its hard to type

when im looking at this photograph

and the pain escapes

through tears running down my cheeks

perm.

every six weeks or so

i have to drag myself out of bed

at some ridiculous hour

and make my way to roselawn

where my beautician's shop is.

i hate getting perms. but by the time

six weeks rolls around my coarse

black roots are too thick to handle

so i sit in her chair, let her base

my scalp like a turkey and proceed

to light my head on fire.

but before all this happens,

she sifts through my hair to get 

a general idea of whats going on.

and apparently, your scalp

can tell alot about whats going on with you.

she said, ashley,

your hair seems to be shedding

a little bit. it's not as full as it was

when you came in before school starts.

what's going on? are you stressed?

i thought about responding back,

well yes, ms. crystal,

i have had the semester from hell

and i just finished the finals from hell

and i have literally been pulling my hair out

in tears from stress plus i've been

looking for internships and

i lost my best friend and 

my bank account is perpetually on E and

i've doubted every friendship i've ever had and

that's why my hair has been shedding.

but instead of doing all that,

i just gave her a sheepish smie

and said

yes ma'am.

his return, part 2.

i hadn't seen him in months but he looked
as handsome as the day i met him
my junior year in highschool. and we gave
each other the obligatory side hug
the one you use with ex-lovers
when i came down stairs, and i sat down at the table and
proceeded to eat my weight in ham.

his green eyes pierced into mine
and i asked him to pass the cranberry sauce
and he obliged. and held my hand. and i just
sat there, looking stupid, missing him
missing us
even though he was three feet to my left.

i went upstairs to take my post grubbage siesta
and he came into my room and sat
on the side of my bed and we
made small talk and he mentioned how he wanted
to straighten his curly mane and i was like yo,
i have a chi flat iron. let's get it.

so with a pink chi in my hand and
220 pounds of ex-boyfriend leaning on me
i proceeded to straighten his locks, sizzling
making him look like one of prince's backup singers.
oddly androgynous. it was a terribly funny idea.

and while i was chi-ing, i dont even think thats a word,
we talked about everything that used to be
and i felt his shoulders relax their tension
and his head leaned against my chest as i attempted
to straighten his back.

45 minutes later he looked like a lebanese lion.
and i don't think i have laughed that hard in years
he was horrified but thought it was funny all the same.
he tickled me, put the chi down and kissed me on my
forehead on my
cheeks on my
lips and held me like he used to
before 300 miles got in between
the only love i could ever attest to.
and it was like nothing had changed. i was still
17 and a cheerleader and he was still 17 and
playing football and we had all the time
to figure out the rest of our lives.
together.

i started to cry and i'm not really sure if its
because i missed him or
i missed us or i missed
home or i missed feeling loved
but in his arms
i could have been in a middle of a monsoon
the eye of a hurricane in the
path of a tornado because i hadn't
felt that safe
in such a long time.

damn.

all these things that i've done.

at the club tonight
reggae, our favorite.
a month ago
a year ago
two years ago
we wouldn't have just happened to
run in to each other there
by chance you would have
called me at 5 pm with this evening's
game plan and we would have left
and made a grand entrance together.

and tonight,
the music was jookin
as usual and me and the girls
were wylin
[especially me. you know how i do]
and we were dancing in the same circle
through association but not
dancing together.

and it was crazy because
one of "our songs" would come on
we'd both go crazy
start doing the moves that we made up
a billion years ago in your room
and we'd share a smile
for half a second and then we'd remember
that we aren't friends anymore. so we stopped
dancing
looked down and felt awkward.

and we all left that same time
because we run the same circle of friends but
before we all departed hugs were
distributed and hopes of safe travels
back home were given out except you
and i walked past each other
as if two months ago you weren't planning
to bless the food at my thanksgiving table
as if i didn't cradle your head in my lap
in the backseat of a car while you
were damn near dead
as if we completely forgot
that we used to be all each other needed.

it's taken me this long to admit it
but now that i get it
i realize that
no matter
what you do
i'll always
always care about you.
and tonight there were so many things
i wanted to tell you and you were
2 feet away from me but
we let 2 other people
get between
what used to be.


damn, bighead.
i miss you.

4th meal.

so i go down stairs to the munchie mart
korey is there as usual
we chat and i wait until midnight
to finally calm my stomach and get the usual
late night snack:
orange soda, naked juice, banana

and then all of a sudden
the two of them walk in
like a bootleg bonnie and clyde
and it seems like korey turned
the temp up in the munchie mart to
200 degrees i was on mother
fucking
fire and i was sweating like an african slave.

i dont even stop to chat with korey tonight
i grab my purchases and dip
press the elevator button for up
repeatedly
as if it will be aware of the urgency
that it knows my ex best friend
and his girlfriend are coming up right behind me
so open up and SAVE ME SAVE ME

my luck has been bad as of late and
tonight seems to be no different
as the elevator door opens up wide
as soon as they arrive behind me.

the three of us in this ascending box
the two of them hand in hand
me clutching to my banana
no words to be said
after two and a half years
what more can i say?

i get off on my floor
and the cold front left behind
from the frostiest elevator ride ever
makes me turn my thermostat on
and i warm my hands over the heater