my creative writing manuscript

*some language may not be suitable for people under the age of 17*

*sorry about all the scrolling*


three word rule
flower garden love
pencil power wrote
doodles spill over
scratch scrabble now
image appears slow
white becomes written
sun above peeks
feeds us flowers
open our souls
seeds nectar love
smell sweet grass
leaves reach sunshine
grow tall skywards
God to talk
of Miracle Grow
their corporation benefits

(at work-january 98)

To Jason
when no sleep was grabbing me
i went searching for him
whom my soul aches for
i looked but could not find
him that my soul needs
i ran into the streets
and asked the man homeless
have you seen him
the man my soul wants?
no he replied
so i trudged to the store
to the cigar man i ask
have you?
no he shook sadly
my heart frowned frustrated but
while roaming the trees
in the forest around
i found him
my soul enveloped the man
writing a poem
about the woman he desires
it was me
(in class-spring 97)

surrealism lesson

scab picking and velcro shoe
too sore for eyesighting
jellowalking away from me
and in
one great big huge enormous gulp
if i
ran over there real quick
and Hey Australia is all alone mom
(in class-fall 97)

tick tock its time to go
where are we to show?
tick tock run run run
you have to beat the sun
tick tock dont be late
but nothing is at the gate
tick tock hurry around this clock
and so many doors to knock
got to get there got to go
but where is this place
we must run to show?
(in class-fall 97)

“Me up at does” by e.e. cummings

Me up at does
out of the floor
quietly Stare
a poisoned mouse
still who alive
is asking What
have i done that
You wouldn’t have

S omeone
Y ou
B roke
I s
L onely.

(christmas 97)

what would you like?
do you need a liver?
she was rare to drink.
do you need a lung?
no cigarettes met her tongue.
do you need to see?
she was a perfect 20/20.
do you need a heart?
running and tennis built hers.
do you seek love?
it was in her fridge.
do you want a tomboy?
dirt was in her nails.
do you wish for hair?
she could tickle toes.
do you want her mind?
she thought
she wasn’t good enough.
(christmas 97)

The importance of the human
depends solely on how he
uses life to progress,
without knowledge of survival
he becomes lint-
he does not live
man dies
(high school quote of mine)

wrapped in confusion,
masked in a smile.
thinking and searching
for the
me in me.
what’s my purpose,
so far off,
hidden in a cave?
i can’t find it sometimes.
i don’t feel like me.
and when me
those rays of this rock of my soul
brightens my belonging
in the world of hate and distrust.
underneath it is love.
love endures.
i am love.
you are love.
why must we be cruel?
why must we hate?
i hug this person to my side
and they stab me
with my own fork.
that is not me-
what a name!
do people say “what a person she is?”
or not?
i hope they see those beams
coming forcefully from my kryptonite-
that is my me.
i must not be afraid.
i must run toward it with all my might
all my love and.......
“may i have some of your rock?”
(june 97)


once i met this girl with long hair
and she thot she was god and stuff
so i told her to go to well..... somewhere
and she laughed in my face so i hit her
and she cried.

I didn’t feel sorry or anything but the principal says i have
two days at home to dwell upon it.
isnt that great?


i stop.
i go.
i stop.
i go.
i am on the highway
called hellolife.
i sing.
i stop.
i go.
i call my boyfriend
i go to work
i due my homework that is due
in a month.
i stop for vacations
i go again with mondays
need no fuel on this route
i am driving to see me.
i stop.
i go.
i jump into the top bunk and dream of
i stop.
(dec 97)


your computersoul my dear
large and complicatable
those wars are unexplainable
kill them kill ‘em shoot shoot shoot
why not book a read i say
with their computersoul they play
all alone i read and watch
i hear them shout obscenities
jason just blew up more casualties
that is wonderful my violent dear
come sit with me and cuddle
read read read my nourishsoul
do something no you control
not kill, but, live, see life
talk with me, stress no strife
okay. yes, you can go
i sit alone and watch the show
Star Wars yours, Cummings mine
jason’s computersoul not too bleak
unless my nourishsoul begins to squeak
(dec 97)


a hole in the brick
i am alone
all alone in my cave
called a dorm
a dorm dark cave
where i have been stuffed in
to study and learn
about calculus and infinity
i am alone
everyone is busy
working and painting roofs
and i sit in my cave
all alone
trying to keep busy
trying to keep safe
in this cave
i decorated with pictures of loves and
posters of color
but they are all i have to talk to
no one visits my cave
only i live in it
no one knows
where i plug in my hair dryer
or put my underwear
i am in my cave
of quiet noises
made by just
(may 97)

this is my soul
long arms areaching
up towards god
and that warm-filled
stomach goo
that glows inside of me
the deeper you go
the shutter your eyes and
the more hollow but yet
you come to become you
this is my soul
out on my bookshelf
you pass by and admire
like a perfectly worn book
written on with thots
it has been tossed
and exchanged and cherished
but adored because
it was unique
this is my soul.
(dec 97)

deck of words-1
walk garnet skin
wool farm drive
shouts Ginsberg bread
stars barbecue deodorant
shit schools sparkle
prickles love glass
rubber Cummings mud
fly peace crayons
giggles Enya breasts
cigars pickle sex
cackles shampoo gun
smile Wilson farts
snow kisses me
hold chocolate sand
clouds guitar contentment

i am coloring outside the lines
and with markers
so it seeps to the opposite side
i am mature when you are mature
and you dont change
so why would i?
i did things that were stupid
but you saw
not to
so i am a good teacher.
i am reading while your eyes
plastered green to plastic
kill and pile up odd blocks.
i am beautiful everywhere
and it is not for you to say,
besides it is you i look like.
i dont like to be critiqued
every moment when i brush my teeth
or clean my dishes.
i am not perfect and
i know you are not either.
who is to judge-
i am coloring outside the lines and
do not wish to judge
your poor coloring inside the lines.
(dec 97)

my little earring
teeny tiny
round about my little earlobe
holding it
silver and small
perfect in all
forever flowing circular
like life
wrapped near my own ear
always there my
silver loops
(march 97)

dove into a puddle of
water happiness
i saw her hugging the tree and
reaching into the
blue stream
she smiled, i smiled
why is she laughing?
her face beams in
childlike running-ness
run, run, leap, bike
pure sky
she thinks so sillyilly
moves flexible
she doesnt cry no more
where are her frowns?
they are gone, gone, run away far
i leaped
into the
pure childhood stream
of myself
with him
my hugging tree
(april 97)

how cold is so cold-
in the dakota of north?
cold is when no water
is slippery.
when no one can live
longer than a tv show outside.
so cold is the
chills burrowing
on my goosebumpied back.
dakota cold
is hibernation under
chunks of fat.
so cold is how cold?
these sharp edges and the blowing
of frigid air
into your nose to solidify
your boogers.
(jan 98)

pin cushion
pins in me
no pins in you
poking prodding objects
even throw a shoe
you say i have this
cushioned cozy life
that is only your view
of my unmarked road
i keep me to myself
and always do what is right
while you dropped out of school
and drink drank everynite
both futures are uncertain
and both believed to be controlled
you chose yours, i chose mine
there are no dice to be rolled
i gave you all i could
i tried to be a bestfriend
but a soulmate’s in the neighborhood
you couldnt stand my stable coupletown
everytime i loved- i got pinned down
and now i am mad as sin
it serves me right
cuz i dont need another tara push pin
on this kind of nite
i loved you way back
but how can i now
after that vicious and unneeded attack?
(sept 97)

According to Bill
all is well in our nation.
Is this true?
As I am weary of my job future
and whether my children
will be safe.
Tell me Bill-
where will I live, what will I eat,
Will my kids go to college?
Will your sex drive take care of it?
(state of union- 98)

pen is straw
follow my footprints
(size eight and a half)
into the chaos
of life.
they go topsey turvy, wobbly burbely
(is that a word?)
all over and under
the knife.
jump the waters
(dance at parties in my levis),
pee the bushes
(no poison ivy!)
in your wild childhood.
(tomboy me)
see me fly in my dreams
(are they for real?)
and scare witches
if i could.
i run away into darkness and i cry alone
but you hold me tight.
the chaos gets inside and it disturbs
but we will fight.
strong we are.
(may 97)

deck of words-2
walk on my garnet skin
take a woolly warm farm drive
shouts Ginsberg bread
stars are barbecuing deodorant
the shit in schools sparkle
prickles love glass
rubber inside Cummings mud
fly peace crayons
giggles her Enya breasts
cigars can pickle sex
cackles his shampoo gun
smile when Wilson farts
snow won’t put kisses on me
hold onto yummy chocolate sand
can clouds guitar contentment?


Sex Avenue
His liquid shower burned
after a love bruise
with her sister.
Will he tell how wild
the slender tongue
of an immense bomb
she consumed in slices?
This secret page is
about a dark man
not yet full for smells
like skin or blossoming lace
when evenings are minuted.
(magnetic fridge poetry-jan 98)

I sleep long and soundly,
Suddenly the doors creak,
Confused. I open my eyes,
And find my love standing there:
What matters death to me?
It has been raining and raining,
It has been raining and raining,
I go out to leave my footprints:
I see the footprints of my love.
All footprints are not alike:
I go out to leave my footprints
And I find the footprints of my love.
He has two loves,
He has two loves,
I go see him off.
I meet the other woman.
I cannot go on,
I cannot go back,
I burst into tears.
(by and African poet-
J.H. Kwabena Nketia)


1.far past days,
sit in a blurry haze
above our dumptruck sand-castles
and t-ball bases.
but ours,
those encounters when we knew
mom was wrong
and we became gods or
hilarious devilish angels
who’d drank
spiked holy water from her silly high heels
relished in superiority
because we were great allies

in the disastrous parentalwar.

you caused jokes and satires to
openly pursue
the air
out of your “duck lips”to piss off dad,
and I
the one that always ended up giggling
under a clenched-cupped hand
to keep the bubbles in
until my stomach was flat.
it wasn’t ever forced laughter Sisa!
you are Prosaic,
packaged into a beautiful being
sarcastic about life and
like you would,
and should.
you are me- a reincarnated comedian.
I am your agent and
I’ll buy your book
and cloth your bod
in fabulous
thrift store memorabilia.

twins separated by three years-
poor mom,
poor dad.
we could have given heart palpitations,
wearing them down takes 20 years,
poor Sybil.
but I leave a space for you,
most cherished friend,
fellow collaborator of ideas and concepts
parents don’t want to hear of.
I am sorry I called you “that girl.”
remember your older teacher sister!
i taught you
what poured from my head-
did you learn?
so when our daughters whisper in church,
perhaps we will ignore
the union
occurring down the pew that can last
until dad shaves his beard off.
(jan 98)


(my problem is that my poetry is written
for me as the audience as well as those
i wrote it for. So when i have it looked at by others it is like them basically
analyzing my skin and telling me i have too
many pimples. i know that i do and i know
that my writing could be redone but
i like it the way it is.
i am happy that way.)
(jan 98)


Make visible what,
without you,
might perhaps never have been seen.

Life has to be given a meaning
because of the obvious fact that
it has no meaning.

i wrote a good omelet and ate a hot poem
after loving you
buttoned my car and drove my cost home
floating somewhere in between
being here and being there
after loving you
i rolled my be, turned down my hair
slightly confused- i don’t care
laid out my teeth and gargled my gown
then i stood and laid me down to sleep
after loving you

(by nikki giovanni)


as his crack grows immensely
for days
and she staggers
smelling it through
a full bouquet of
summer-like people
has man consumed a bomb
from dark secret slices?
(jan 98)

“we like love”
you said
i say this
“me too”
he tells her
“let wind sound my blossom”
(jan 98)

speed freak
i get in my car or i pedal on my bike
and all i want is wind going through
my hair
music pounding on my earlobes through
my limbs,
muscles hurting, muscles aching
but yet i push one the accelerator
or pedals.
faster faster faster
it hurts but i push on
push push push push
the wind and the rush
and the
beating of muscles and music.
stop and glide. ahhhh.....
my face is red
my body is wet and full of sweat.
i smile.
i shower and water,
the greatest element,
cleanses me
of pain and soothes my spirit.
i sleep and awake to more pushing
of brain cells.
the pounding of learning and remembering
and then when I succeed the wind
blows through me as it would on my bike
and i am blown to the ecstasy of wisdom and my spirit flows as freely and my hair
through the air of the sky.
(june 97)


life is so silly
time fades so fast
you can barely breath
sadness plows over
depression quickly sucks you in
you feel as if life no longer matters

and death is the only way out

but you have to survive because
noone has so you have to prove to the world
and yet
energy takes the best of you
and you no longer care
no longer want to be here
to live life
(highschool 93)

things floating
things floating in my mind
plentiful and complicated
from finding true love
discovering long lost emotions to
distorted figures and friends
of mistakes, feelings, and secrets
my knowledge is of no school books
but of philosophy and individualism
i am but a whisper above the roar
and a rain drop in a storm
self-esteem has deserted me
as peace leaves the world
building my thoughts like
constructing architectural structures
fading in and out
life is worth living without money,
power, or success
no longer existing in this world


unhappiness is often a barrier of
good laughs
why do they occur every other
time I think
i am lazy, tired, and unwilling
to sacrifice energy
to any one thing whether its
him or that or you
i dislike the sucking of life
especially mine into
his touch is wanted, money
is wanted along with love
they all cost something
my sanity? my quiet?
yes and more
welcome to the realness of the world
(june 95)

turtles swim the water
birds swim the air
people swim the evil
rare to wet in good
faith is all to see
when swimming at all

weight jumps off my back
gates open
the breeze is felt
my sanity is coming home
love is here now
he is gone- god bless me
for i am mean to think he is gone
i am happy but the roses smell
i want daisies
open the peacebar of forgiveness
today i lied
tomorrow i speak
sing me a song
for i am human, thank god
(july 94)

My life has been an everlasting bundle of confusions, misunderstandings, and fake loves. I rarely know my head from any other part of my body. People surrounding me seem to not go thru these things for they are normal. Is it only me? I don’t think so but no one else talks about life. Maybe it is because they understand it as much as I do. And they wonder why we have talk shows.