Sometimes I write poetry. I don't mean to, but like I get bored and I need to do something and sometimes I just write down a lot of words and call it poetry. Usually it doesn't make sense, and it's not meant to, but if you really really really really wanted to, you could try to make some sense out of what I wrote. If you do, feel free to e-mail me at and, and maybe it'll make the voices stop for a little while.

Lilo (slightly updated, improved?)
Stuck in Love
Shared Pain
Seeing Him
Creative Reality
Temperary Sanity
There as a Hypertext Poem
Cheeze Poetry
Sinking Time
My Floating Body
A Year Ago Today
I Made a Memory
a short poem. Did
Open Love

Welcome to my hellish existance...
Well I graduated, I sort of didn't mean to, but I got way too involved with this show called a flight of dragons and fell behind in both of my ICS courses and decided that I *needed* to get out of school, and Graduated in Dec of 2001 on my birthday as luck would have it. Now, many moons later I find myself itching to get back into school. Silly, no? Why do I write this? Hell if I know, but below are links to Doodles I made in my ICS courses which quite took my imagination at the time, and I felt like scanning them, cleaning them up a bit, and posting them on this, my homepage. Look and be amazed. Go on I dare you.

The name of this image is nny1.GIF, and indeed the goth boy was inspired by the Jonny the Homocidal Maniac that we all know and love, but the doodle looks nothing like Nny.

These are two doodles I scanned in and fixed up to use in a class project. I ended up not using them, but here they are.

I love the moon
Creepy baby head


I started sewing. I blame Randai. Randai is a theatre form from a place called Minangkabau in Indonesia. Anyway they have these pants which you can play like a drum, and you can't buy them at Wallmart or whatever, so I learned to sew so I could make these pants. Anyway here's some other stuff I made:

A Baby Bunny
Close up of baby bunny
The small girl and small boy bunny
Close up of small girl and small boy bunny

Some further thoughts: I've added a few poems since the first time I put this page up. It's gotten me thinking. My first poem was Seeing Him. I wrote it for this guy I had a crush on, and the emotion of the poem is still very present in me. There's a sort of desperation still within, coupled with an obsession over details, and the like. Since then I wrote a few other poems high (if you will allow that I am high) on Caffeine and sleep Deprivation, or just lost in the complete boredom I get from having to be around other people all the time. I know what that sounds like, but it's just one of those true things. And if I've lost you at this point, I'm sorry I just need to get some of these things out of my head.

Anyway, Time was also written for a guy I had a crush on. Probably most of these are "love" poems. I wrote it on a chalk board because I was going Insane. And his friend read it off the chalk board as being something that he (the guy I had a crush on) would like. Well, I don't know if anyone liked the poem (If you liked Time feel free to let me know by e-mailing me at but the idea of the guy I had a crush on liking the poem I wrote for him made me glow just a little bit, so I memorized the poem (chalk poems are lost so easily) and eventually wrote it down to keep forever.

Creative Reality was written for a young girl who grabbed on to my pants leg after a Children's Theatre performance to a school audience and I was forced to tell her to go and join her class as they left to go back to school. I will never know who that child was. The Creative Reality was sort of what I wanted to say to her. It's sort of about how, in that moment, I wanted to be a part of her life, to be a figment of her imagination to keep her company like the figments of my imagination kept me company when I was about her age. To make sure she was never lonely like I was lonely so she wouldn't hate the world as much as I do now.

Temperary Sanity was written after walking to the beach with a guy who is probably gay (but I love him anyway) and for some reason we decided how much Sanity costs. It was fun, and I kept the memory in my head, even if I forget now who that other person was.

There is actually a break up poem. Although people observant enough probably could have guessed that. I dated a Bryan for some short amount of time, and broke up with him after we first had sex (my first time ever). I had difficulty liking Bryan after the sex.

Sometimes I try to figure out why I didn't like Bryan because so many of my friends and family felt that we were meant for each other, but it didn't seem to me that they knew what they were talking about. Sometimes I think I didn't like Bryan after sex because once many years ago I was hurt badly by a man I thought I loved. I was 12 years old at the time and he must have been at least twice my age. I have difficulty coming to terms with my experience because I feel like I should say he "sexually assulted" me but it seems like in the scale of human suffering, I went through so little and furthermore some part of me wanted what had happened although when it did happen I got scared, and all I wanted was for it to be over, so I could go back the the happy part where I loved him. And sometimes I think that what hurt more was that I never saw him again after he did what he did to me.

Bryan didn't hurt me so much, as he tried to love me, and I didn't know what to do with it. There is probably so preachy because I was trying to figure out what I thought I wanted from love... and there are some of the things Bryan said to me in the poem. I spent a lot of time after breaking up with Bryan just hating him a lot although I knew on an intelectual level that I really just hated myself and that hating Bryan was easier. After about three years of just wishing that Bryan would die, my intelect won over my emotion, and I felt a sort of peace. There was actually written during the stage where I wanted to kill Bryan, but I thought I'd share the later half with anyone who would listen, because it was and is a life long lesson. I know I still hate myself, but at least now I've let go of all the anger I felt towards Bryan.

Sinking Time, My Floating Body, and Desire were sort of written for a play I'm in. I probably won't use them because it's part of my "Bad Poetry" collection, and don't like sharing all the bad parts of my creativeness. Plus, because I wasn't in the right frame of mind, I feel like the creativeness suffered, and the poems just because words I put together because I couldn't make them into complete thoughts. I'm including them here sort of as a work in progress. They might change, they might not.

I've cleaned up this discription of Dreaming. Dreaming was written for the man I fell in love with. At the beginning I got ultra involved in his life and occasionally I'd find myself watching him do the things he does, writing everything in my brain down on paper. I liked a handful of the the images and threw the rest away a pure nonsense and now that I am without the man I love, I keep it on this webpage as a sad reminder of our time together. I consider it a work in process although I might not be working on it for a long time and as with anything in my homepage, comments are quite welcome.

A new poem, and a newest description. Today I'm up at 5:10 in the morning and lonely, and sad and a little depressed for being a woman, and if you don't know what that means, then it's not very important. A Year Ago Today comes from my sitting here and remembering the past as best I can, and, well, That is my poem.

Sometimes I try to remember the happy times of my time with the man I love. When is me remembering him before we were together, remembering him sitting there sad and lonely and missing his home, and remembering my frustration... wanting to be able to make him happy again, and then, for a time we were happy together, and now he is somewhere else, happy, and I am here, lonely and missing him.

I Made a Memory is about the man I love as he lives on in my memory. Sometimes I make stuff up. And I recognize that sometimes when I remember I remember things a little wrong. This about him as he slowly changes into something different in my memory.

I just wanted to sleep a little while longer and I wasn't very happy at work when I wrote ripped. Did is a short little poem of my neurotic self-loathing in the loneliness of wondering if he is lonely too. ... And.... sometimes I can remember being in love and smile. Alone is one of those moments when I just spent a lot of time smiling and remembering, and almost feeling like I could turn back time.

Hands is oddly enough an abuse poem. I wrote it at a guy who didn't abuse me so much as confuse the hell out of me. For a long time he just looked daggers at me for no good reason, and then one day I mentioned something about Star Wars, you know the one, and suddenly I was his good friend... I wrote this while he was still looking daggers at me for no good reason.

Open Love is weird, and I don't remember what it's about.

The next three poems were written in a waiting room, while I was so damned nervous I just took out my book and wrote some stuff down. Small is written for the receptionest who looked apologeticly at me and told me for two hours I was the next person and she didn't know why it was taking so long. Copy is in reference to my insignifigance. Longing and rememberance is for the man I fell in love with.

And now I'm done.

Go home