so you scraped your name
into the wood
on this table
i’m sitting at
why
the
hell
would you do that?
and on the door
on my
way out
somewhere else-
there it was again!
you have a knack for
irrelevant graffiti
and
damn,
your name seems to be
wherever I go
(c) Caitlin C.
"We don’t notice any time pass" and "the abstract pelvis"
I can’t relate
I can’t relate
and sometimes I just
miss everything we were
I want to tell you everything
but I don’t
want to scare you away
stay here
with me together
You are the flash of sun under my eyelids
A tea light’s kiss of flame
I wish my bones could show
you the sky
And each hole show you
the moon
instead of this flesh that
I rot with my own eyes
Rocking back and forth on my heels I see
girls with skintight
faces and no room
to breathe
flowing before me,
I know my eyes
are rolled back
like their heads
eating away at me
eating
burning myself with the
hot tip of
gritting teeth
splitting hairs
shrinking muscles in my
arms, end
this cry of my
stupid ignorant soul
(c) Caitlin C.
I can’t relate
and sometimes I just
miss everything we were
I want to tell you everything
but I don’t
want to scare you away
stay here
with me together
You are the flash of sun under my eyelids
A tea light’s kiss of flame
I wish my bones could show
you the sky
And each hole show you
the moon
instead of this flesh that
I rot with my own eyes
Rocking back and forth on my heels I see
girls with skintight
faces and no room
to breathe
flowing before me,
I know my eyes
are rolled back
like their heads
eating away at me
eating
burning myself with the
hot tip of
gritting teeth
splitting hairs
shrinking muscles in my
arms, end
this cry of my
stupid ignorant soul
(c) Caitlin C.
it’s just that sometimes I feel
I felt the blood
spreading and cracking over
my arms and legs
it was warm like
skin
and I felt it inside without
a pulse, it sat and
waited like
a constricting scarf
on my waist
on my chest
all along my body,
it was wrapped
and his breathing corpse felt
weary and wrongly tied my
wrists to the ground
struggling out a
sputtering, wet cough
never finishing this thing we left
unsaid, and everything unraveled
things were over and
not one thing had happened
inconclusive, our bodies lay
moonlit and mangled and
we never knew
(c) Caitlin C.
Heart of a lusty survivor
They were puzzled
and lists poured from their faces
reasoning why and how
but certainly never
who
they pondered the
Stabs in the lungs
And words after the last breath
there seemed to be specialists
in every trade
but try as they might
they couldn’t explain
bed sores from a terrible
dream and a soul
that readily would
palpitate
for no one in particular they
dissected
no one in particular thought of
respect
the heart laid on a table
smelling like scent of regret
shook as it undressed its remains
for nothing but one struck-
one embrace and forget
a last minute
love, and a
speechless transplant
(c) Caitlin C.
and lists poured from their faces
reasoning why and how
but certainly never
who
they pondered the
Stabs in the lungs
And words after the last breath
there seemed to be specialists
in every trade
but try as they might
they couldn’t explain
bed sores from a terrible
dream and a soul
that readily would
palpitate
for no one in particular they
dissected
no one in particular thought of
respect
the heart laid on a table
smelling like scent of regret
shook as it undressed its remains
for nothing but one struck-
one embrace and forget
a last minute
love, and a
speechless transplant
(c) Caitlin C.
mind games are for one player
i am
speeding on a
white train to nowhere
i want my voice
while your
head
screams of
confusion
i want words you
see, alighted in smoke
i want ashes on your pillowcase,
sprinting in a circle
crying out emotion!
i want
you can
look in my head
i put you there to be
alone with me
so we blind reality
curtains on our eyes
mirrored faces in the grave-
slope of a crevassed brain encased-
not even a haze can show through
i am speeding
but it’s getting me
nowhere
somehow i am you
(c) Caitlin C.
speeding on a
white train to nowhere
i want my voice
while your
head
screams of
confusion
i want words you
see, alighted in smoke
i want ashes on your pillowcase,
sprinting in a circle
crying out emotion!
i want
you can
look in my head
i put you there to be
alone with me
so we blind reality
curtains on our eyes
mirrored faces in the grave-
slope of a crevassed brain encased-
not even a haze can show through
i am speeding
but it’s getting me
nowhere
somehow i am you
(c) Caitlin C.
Speaking of those who copy John Lennon
The amazing think about life is: you can do pretty much whatever you want. Albeit, somethings will get you killed, like if you decide to try and fly, or swim in a pond filled with particularily pissed-off pirahnas. But my main point is, I can do what I want. And today I've decided to take a risk and put two, count 'em, two posts on my blog. What now?
It seems like every day
I write about the past
It gets worse and
You get
Worse
and my friends
Swear about the
ugly boys who broke their heart
and I smile and
Think
About
You
for a while,
and defend your every
move
even the moves
that seemed play out like wizard chess
and crush me as such
but friends don’t understand
everything
especially when they all care more
about their own lives and
secret love
for sheep-dog
Asian boys
so while I cynically comment
on your life
and all
I usually just smile
and write about
the past
that keeps getting worse
as the future looks better
(c) Caitlin C.
It seems like every day
I write about the past
It gets worse and
You get
Worse
and my friends
Swear about the
ugly boys who broke their heart
and I smile and
Think
About
You
for a while,
and defend your every
move
even the moves
that seemed play out like wizard chess
and crush me as such
but friends don’t understand
everything
especially when they all care more
about their own lives and
secret love
for sheep-dog
Asian boys
so while I cynically comment
on your life
and all
I usually just smile
and write about
the past
that keeps getting worse
as the future looks better
(c) Caitlin C.
if you have to ask, you'll never know
we are in the burning prairie
dying in the burning prairie
as evil girls with brown
curls cry about the jello in their hair
and the chlorine in their brain
accustomed to a
stalkerish following and
a need for dirty
fingernails
what doesn’t make sense
what only makes you feel
and you’re not sure if that’s ok
or if you’re ok
or what ok really means
but if we sit together in these flames
and die holding hands cracked with cold
we can’t be forgotten
you won’t even remember
the time, it’ll go faster
as we breathe with the heat
when we’re among this ranting
spur of characters
who want us to live
who lead us to die
(c) Caitlin C.
dying in the burning prairie
as evil girls with brown
curls cry about the jello in their hair
and the chlorine in their brain
accustomed to a
stalkerish following and
a need for dirty
fingernails
what doesn’t make sense
what only makes you feel
and you’re not sure if that’s ok
or if you’re ok
or what ok really means
but if we sit together in these flames
and die holding hands cracked with cold
we can’t be forgotten
you won’t even remember
the time, it’ll go faster
as we breathe with the heat
when we’re among this ranting
spur of characters
who want us to live
who lead us to die
(c) Caitlin C.
THIS IS NOT A TITLE
Actually it is a title. I needed this out of my system, I guess. So here we go.
I’m a girl
who
will settle
rather than
deal
with
conflict
you’ve seen my side with
bouncing legs, crazy
and serene-
you wrote that to
me on the outside
of my note
to you
and you’ve read
every
pleading
poem
they are addressed
and mailed to
you
you, who never
replied but to say a
kind word
what if I
wrote “I love you”?
I can’t imagine
how you
would respond
or even
us, anymore
I write this
so as
not
to confuse
to
you
you
you
(c) Caitlin C.
"Baby, remember on the bus and my hand was on your knee? When you love somebody it's hard to think about anything but to breathe. Baby, I am the cub who was washed out in the flood. When you love somebody and bite your tongue, all you get is a mouthful of blood."
~Fruit Bats
I’m a girl
who
will settle
rather than
deal
with
conflict
you’ve seen my side with
bouncing legs, crazy
and serene-
you wrote that to
me on the outside
of my note
to you
and you’ve read
every
pleading
poem
they are addressed
and mailed to
you
you, who never
replied but to say a
kind word
what if I
wrote “I love you”?
I can’t imagine
how you
would respond
or even
us, anymore
I write this
so as
not
to confuse
to
you
you
you
(c) Caitlin C.
"Baby, remember on the bus and my hand was on your knee? When you love somebody it's hard to think about anything but to breathe. Baby, I am the cub who was washed out in the flood. When you love somebody and bite your tongue, all you get is a mouthful of blood."
~Fruit Bats
you know, trees probably do have rumps somewhere under there
This is about my best buddies from school. When (if) they read it, it'll make sense. Many inside jokes. Or just inside things that aren't very funny. You know what I mean.
a circle of
crossed legs and
binders against
chicken
nuggets
near afro men
to Ben & Jerry's
the
tree hugger-
who transposes Beatles
songs
conned by the Amish
a manic
blonde problem
child, by some definition-
hair resting on
my shoulder,
my sister
I never had
and
a rhyming girl,
who can’t conclude
rhythm and
misses lines
who still thinks
maybe things will work
when her flesh
her blood knows
it won’t
and they
tell
her
so
but in the end
laugh when the
wall hermit
pounds back
(c) Caitlin C.
ps- read the part about you-know-who (and I don't mean Voldemort) in the previous post!
a circle of
crossed legs and
binders against
chicken
nuggets
near afro men
to Ben & Jerry's
the
tree hugger-
who transposes Beatles
songs
conned by the Amish
a manic
blonde problem
child, by some definition-
hair resting on
my shoulder,
my sister
I never had
and
a rhyming girl,
who can’t conclude
rhythm and
misses lines
who still thinks
maybe things will work
when her flesh
her blood knows
it won’t
and they
tell
her
so
but in the end
laugh when the
wall hermit
pounds back
(c) Caitlin C.
ps- read the part about you-know-who (and I don't mean Voldemort) in the previous post!
either life has failed me or I’ve failed life
I'm not sure if I like this one yet... we'll see. There will be changes.
creeping
frictionless atoms
that stalk and walk around
strike hope
with Bukowski’s words of booze
and collapse
I
try to focus
a mind
made up
without success
meat eaters
need rides from
her, she stops
as she finds her
mocha- tainted-
and resolves to drink
the waste
life has not brought up
the topic of it’s
selfish divorce
it’s undermining mind
melting
deflation
but sometimes you just
know,
you’ve been built up
to fail
(c) Caitlin C.
creeping
frictionless atoms
that stalk and walk around
strike hope
with Bukowski’s words of booze
and collapse
I
try to focus
a mind
made up
without success
meat eaters
need rides from
her, she stops
as she finds her
mocha- tainted-
and resolves to drink
the waste
life has not brought up
the topic of it’s
selfish divorce
it’s undermining mind
melting
deflation
but sometimes you just
know,
you’ve been built up
to fail
(c) Caitlin C.
hey look! it’s you without me. drive!
Chilling! By the way- if you didn't figure this out, the poem titles are the titles of the post... yes yes!
On the cold nights
of clichéd spasm
They pulsed together
in a
hallway they
called
big and long
when they were
fresh inmates in
a cell block
rolling eyes of failed
worshippers
dead lips of pathetic
girls, boys who were
chicken
and men who needed
to grow
The world would stop
that cold night
would become
a fairy tale
and they would rest
In time things would
never
change
(c) Caitlin C.
On the cold nights
of clichéd spasm
They pulsed together
in a
hallway they
called
big and long
when they were
fresh inmates in
a cell block
rolling eyes of failed
worshippers
dead lips of pathetic
girls, boys who were
chicken
and men who needed
to grow
The world would stop
that cold night
would become
a fairy tale
and they would rest
In time things would
never
change
(c) Caitlin C.
persona grata paramour
I think of this poem as an envoi- also known as the end of a poem where the poet addresses the person about which it was written. I know what you're thinking- where's the first part? Answer: I have no idea. An ending... with a missing start!
As unrequited
wretched people
we
mime each other
sinking and shifting
although I hope
we can disregard a minor schism
I can’t stay away
when I love each breath
you draw
pensive stares
see you
pulverized and incomplete
with clear-cut affinity
in a lonely
state of
frenzy
a backward
regress to me-
you have a rogue soul
the ego
of a painted women
but still you are
my heart’s
inamorato
(c) Caitlin C.
As unrequited
wretched people
we
mime each other
sinking and shifting
although I hope
we can disregard a minor schism
I can’t stay away
when I love each breath
you draw
pensive stares
see you
pulverized and incomplete
with clear-cut affinity
in a lonely
state of
frenzy
a backward
regress to me-
you have a rogue soul
the ego
of a painted women
but still you are
my heart’s
inamorato
(c) Caitlin C.
worryingly realistic movie plot
sitting in a boring hour of
calculations and
contemplations
not
on
task
the animal kingdom
leaps to slash the air with
a scratch
I start-
vault from my chair
and launch at a
water buffalo.
she is now
a carcass.
in reality it’s an undercover
job, and much more akin
to homicidal
rumors than
homicide
itself
it surprises me how
literal “social suicide”
becomes in the
wild
(c) Caitlin C.
calculations and
contemplations
not
on
task
the animal kingdom
leaps to slash the air with
a scratch
I start-
vault from my chair
and launch at a
water buffalo.
she is now
a carcass.
in reality it’s an undercover
job, and much more akin
to homicidal
rumors than
homicide
itself
it surprises me how
literal “social suicide”
becomes in the
wild
(c) Caitlin C.
Hooray for tree metaphors!
Accusations and Defense
I am not who you
Said I was
I am weak
But you knew that
And instead of letting
me grow like the bark
around a tree
You snapped me while
I was a twig
And when the leaves
Finally fell
Tears stung my face
And chopped like an ax
While you said good bye
You hoped we could- but My hope was crushed
and hacked away
The anticipation was
Perhaps the reason
I never brought it up
Until we ran out of
Things to say
That was when you
Trod over me and I split
Down the middle
But you didn’t, no
You didn’t
Miss my heart
Crack! went that twig
I am broken
I will never grow
(c) Caitlin C.
I am not who you
Said I was
I am weak
But you knew that
And instead of letting
me grow like the bark
around a tree
You snapped me while
I was a twig
And when the leaves
Finally fell
Tears stung my face
And chopped like an ax
While you said good bye
You hoped we could- but My hope was crushed
and hacked away
The anticipation was
Perhaps the reason
I never brought it up
Until we ran out of
Things to say
That was when you
Trod over me and I split
Down the middle
But you didn’t, no
You didn’t
Miss my heart
Crack! went that twig
I am broken
I will never grow
(c) Caitlin C.
dreams made of I wish I knew what
This is a strange poem... basically a compilation of really strange dreams that I somehow remembered enough to write down. Here it is.
they speak
in waterlogged
whispers, squeezing
tightly, stubborn
syndications
stand
reciting words of
spite in rhythm
skim lattes
hot breath
cracking ridges
with no bones
finally a happy member
recalls my psychotic
creeping, closer to
the end
and
the morning spits in my eyes
to clutch with
force perverse
happiness
left to scour a
melting pot
so full
of fish
that
they’re right
and left
alone
(c) Caitlin C.
they speak
in waterlogged
whispers, squeezing
tightly, stubborn
syndications
stand
reciting words of
spite in rhythm
skim lattes
hot breath
cracking ridges
with no bones
finally a happy member
recalls my psychotic
creeping, closer to
the end
and
the morning spits in my eyes
to clutch with
force perverse
happiness
left to scour a
melting pot
so full
of fish
that
they’re right
and left
alone
(c) Caitlin C.
revolutions on the dance floor
just when I’ve
finally let a gasp of air
escape, the claws of
your soul
scratched me with a smile
buried within acid
marching men
my heart is filled with
curved corners
retching in
delight, and miserably
blinking over my
confirmation candle
a swerving getaway that led
to the confinement of that air,
that whisp of wind and air
now enclosed and remembering
the faint essence
your weakling smile
that melts me
my downfall
like a moth that burns
over a heinous flame
(c) Caitlin C.
Elm Tree Statistics
Four letters were
Carved into the trunk of the elm
A scraggly, narrow heart
Closed around them like a cupped palm
Other calligraphy seems to blossom
When the sun
Shines on the page
And soaks in each teardrop
Of rain
I slam the weeping door,
Barefoot walk across
The grass
To the trunk of the elm
Until the old promise seems
Like a statistic
When a couple became a crowd
When the letters spread
Into a page
(c) Caitlin C.
Carved into the trunk of the elm
A scraggly, narrow heart
Closed around them like a cupped palm
Other calligraphy seems to blossom
When the sun
Shines on the page
And soaks in each teardrop
Of rain
I slam the weeping door,
Barefoot walk across
The grass
To the trunk of the elm
Until the old promise seems
Like a statistic
When a couple became a crowd
When the letters spread
Into a page
(c) Caitlin C.
Algebra II
This has nothing to do with Algebra, although it does have to do with my Algebra class. I was incredibly bored today- too bored to focus on applying properties of roots with rational exponents, and yet somehow focused enough to write a rather random poem.
Make room for Jesus!
An excess of styrofoam
whitewashed and
frantic
crazed students with
lonely eyes scribble and
tear papers
due in
five minutes
shaking as they’re passed
hand to hand
information to scarf and forget
Hey,
Did you
hear?
A venomous intermission
They were grinding
at a church
dance
Not surprised
heads roll back to cram
Unused dishrooms
hide them-
with one eye
drifting
towards the
other side
(c) Caitlin C.
Make room for Jesus!
An excess of styrofoam
whitewashed and
frantic
crazed students with
lonely eyes scribble and
tear papers
due in
five minutes
shaking as they’re passed
hand to hand
information to scarf and forget
Hey,
Did you
hear?
A venomous intermission
They were grinding
at a church
dance
Not surprised
heads roll back to cram
Unused dishrooms
hide them-
with one eye
drifting
towards the
other side
(c) Caitlin C.
Anyone interested in sending me some poetry?
Hey, people- if any of you are thinking you want to send me some poetry I would love to read it and post it. The email you should send it to is csquaredpoems@yahoo.com with the poems pasted into the main body of the email.
Great!
~Caitlin C.
Great!
~Caitlin C.
The janitor is eavesdropping
It's always interesting for me to write a poem and not really know where I'm going with it. Sometimes I'll think I have this brilliant idea, and then when I write it down it sounds like shit. Poems like this one are cool to look back on and think about what it meant to me when I wrote it and what it means to me now. It can be completely different. Hopefully you'll find some meaning in it.
I told you a story
There were sharp corners
dark hallways
And scuffed vans
battles turn to blisters
white eyes bleed red
forgive me
just listen
Now thousands of seconds
I can count them all
The lights have gone out
I stay and wait
tables turned
feet cocked high on a stool
pound down the stairs
I’ve been here for hours
losing track of the hours
paperback
Money’s expense
dreams I feared to lose
you don’t need anyone
They need me that way
I can’t finish without knowing
what it all means
I can’t finish
So I’ve
been counting
the hours
(c) Caitlin C.
I am to him what McDonalds is to her
Before you read this poem, you should just know what it's about, because I'd like the readers to know. Generally I enjoy chuckling to myself as you all fumble with the underlying meaning of my poems, but this one merits some explanation. I just renamed this poem "I am to him what McDonalds is to her" because 1) I think it's a more interesting title, and 2) I fooled you, the title doesn't mean what you think it does. Unfortunately for you, McDonalds is not a restaurant. Rather, he is not a restaurant *nudge nudge*. Anyways, if I don't shut up soon someone is likely to pop up and ninja-kick me, so without further ado, here's the poem. Have fun with that!
I am to him what McDonalds is to her
It all gets to me
and seems a little
condescending
forgive me for
my presumptions
I call ‘em
like
I see ‘em
you put up a
wall of
defense like
a master of the
dojo
spontaneity confuses
all the
watching
eyes
and they glare
with each
shrug
of reaction
and each bead
of stubborn perspiration
but still
it gets to me
you seem to
have this
planned
I
mean
to
find
out
(c) Caitlin C.
I am to him what McDonalds is to her
It all gets to me
and seems a little
condescending
forgive me for
my presumptions
I call ‘em
like
I see ‘em
you put up a
wall of
defense like
a master of the
dojo
spontaneity confuses
all the
watching
eyes
and they glare
with each
shrug
of reaction
and each bead
of stubborn perspiration
but still
it gets to me
you seem to
have this
planned
I
mean
to
find
out
(c) Caitlin C.
To My Friend
An incestuous shine in the white of your eye
The barefaced manifesto takes place
Before it begins
Without reflection
Hasty lies travel to an ear
And what I hear isn’t pretty
Waiting for praise like a sad dog
Thought, though it doesn’t occur much, rids
A bitch of purpose
To ruin a conversation
An affiliation
An association, or relationship
Peeling it away like chips in the gutter
Burnt like crumbled sparks
Pieces of bark in the flickering flames
And yet a puppy is so innocent,
So complacent that another
Nearly as smug never existed
(c) Caitlin C., 2007
Swans are nice; however I prefer ugly ducklings
You see her weep
hanging onto that black swinging note
the crest toppling beneath the lines
her hunched shoulders
those raspy noises
She cries for her own selfish reasons
Torn up beatniks ramble on
And they all say they love her
but she’s like
a ghost that wants
to go home
Registers and a
Corelli trade off
tired of feeling a pin prick
like a useless sense of pain
Sweeping fermata, nightlong
All the world waited for her as
she played that
last minor scale
they pause to reflect on
her effervescent beauty, her
shaking fists
fingers hobbling on a cold clarinet
a crying soul with
no place- barely even an
ear to borrow
hanging onto that black swinging note
the crest toppling beneath the lines
her hunched shoulders
those raspy noises
She cries for her own selfish reasons
Torn up beatniks ramble on
And they all say they love her
but she’s like
a ghost that wants
to go home
Registers and a
Corelli trade off
tired of feeling a pin prick
like a useless sense of pain
Sweeping fermata, nightlong
All the world waited for her as
she played that
last minor scale
they pause to reflect on
her effervescent beauty, her
shaking fists
fingers hobbling on a cold clarinet
a crying soul with
no place- barely even an
ear to borrow
First Blog Post- hope this works!
Why hello there, whoever happens to be reading this! I'm C^2, and this is basically where I'm planning to paste some of my poems. I'm a young poet, and I've recently been published at a few places including: The Cerebral Catalyst, Thick With Conviction, Chantarelle's Notebook, and I think like two more places but I'm drawing a blank. Anyways that's basically all I can think of right now so there we go! First blog post- woo hoo!
~C^2
~C^2
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