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Nchanter

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past poetry [Sep. 6th, 2003|12:11 am]
Nchanter
[emotional state |nostalgicnostalgic]

so i was talking with minkr0se about stuff tonight, and rhyming and poetry came up, and some stuff on that topic made me thing of the "who the hell are you anyways" poem i wrote at csw, and my wall of writings, and the poetry i use to write, and how much passion i use to have... and i sent her the first stanza of "who the hell are you anyways" 'cause i thought she would appreciate it. her responce "awesome"

and i realized how there are a few poems i wrote a long time ago that are very important to me, so i thought i would share. this is from a kris that most of you never met, and i hope you never see again. i had lots and lots of pain. but i think this stuff is important, and i want to share. so i'm going to. maybe i'll start writing again, i use to not suck at it. well, at writing, not at poetry. it's my belief that everyone sucks at poetry.

bellow is the first stanza to "who the hell are you anyways" the rest is behind the cut. you don’t' have to read the whole thing, it gets redundant, but the first stanza is very important to me. and for some reason it's just as important, and pertinent, if not more so, now. actually, just re-reading it again for the first time in a long time, REALLY reading it, i implore y'all to click the link, but i'm not going to be the bitch that posts all that NOT behind a cut.

Who the hell are you anyway?
Who the hell do you think I am?
I am not a slut.
I am not a whore.
I am not what you’ve heard I am.
So you must not be what I’ve heard you are.
But then how do I interact with you?
How do I even know who you are?
All I know is what I’ve heard about you.
But if what you have heard about me is false am I really sure you exist?
Maybe you are a lie.
Maybe I am a lie.
Maybe we are all one big fat lie
Maybe life is a lie.
So therefore if life is a lie us being a lie would be irrelevant... no?
So what is real?
Maybe everything that is a lie in our eyes is real and everything that is real to us is a lie.
Than I am a slut.
And than I am a whore.
And then you are what people have been saying.
And therefore I am not willing to talk to you... after all.



But wait a minute.
I know I am not a slut.
I know I am not a whore.
So therefore what I think is life must be...
And therefore it is not all lies... right?
But if life is what I really think it is it may still be full of lies, including yours.
So are you real?
Are you a lie?
You may exist.
Yes I believe you exist, but it does not mean you are real.
You are a lie in my book.
But since I determine you are a lie, and the rest of the universe doesn’t, does that mean you are not.
To me you are.
You are the biggest lie I know
Yet you go on, as if you weren’t
So the questions remains... will I talk to you?

I have decided something today.
It is not up to me whether or not you are a lie though this I already knew.
What I have decided is since it is not up to me if you are a lie, it is not up to me if I will or will not talk to you.
This I leave in your hands.
I will talk to you.
But you must decide if I am real.
Am I a lie?
Am I a lie to you?
Am I a lie to myself?
I say I know I am not a slut.
I say I know I am not a whore.
But am I really just lying to myself?
Am I lying to the whole damn world?
How do I know if I’m telling the truth?
And it had just occurred to me...
I don’t know
But I guess I don’t care either.
If I did, I would know.
And I would know well.

This question about lying seems to keep popping up in my head.
I need to get it out.
But which part comes out first?
The denial, or the acknowledgment of the denial?
And it boils down to questions.
Am I a slut?
Am I a whore?
Are you a lie?
Am I a lie?
Will I talk to you?
Are you even willing to talk to me?
I forgot about that part.
Would you even ever talk to me?
You did once.
Maybe you will again

I need to stop dwelling on this bullshit.
This stuff will make you insane.
Who the hell are you anyway?
Who the hell do you think I am?
I am not a slut.
I am not a whore.
I am not what you’ve heard I am.
So you must not be what I’ve heard you are.
But then how do I interact with you?
How do I even know who you are?
All I know is what I’ve heard about you.
But if what you have heard about me is false am I really sure you exist?
Maybe you are a lie.
Maybe I am a lie.
Maybe we are all one big fat lie
Maybe life is a lie.
So therefore if life is a lie us being a lie would be irrelevant... no?
So what is real?
Maybe everything that is a lie in our eyes is real and everything that is real to us is a lie.
Than I am a slut.
And than I am a whore.
And then you are what people have been saying.
And therefore I am not willing to talk to you... after all.




I walked up to your door.
Your mother let me in.
I said hi, how are you,
With more wrinkles in her skin.
Her hair had turned grayer,
And looked a bit more thin.
She pointed me towards you,
And the nightmare did begin.

I saw you on the couch,
You weren’t expecting me.
A pale boy all in black,
Was all that I first did see.
You looked about the same,
The boy you use to be.
Brilliant and charming,
While still wild and carefree.

I remembered our past,
The way I once loved you.
Every day every thought,
Was only you through and through.
Every night you whispered,
Wherefore you loved me too.
But now you’re spent and gone,
And there ‘s nothing I can do.

But when I looked closer,
I gasped at what I saw.
For this was not that boy,
Not the boy I loved at all.
Your color seemed to blend
With the white of the wall
Your eyes had sunken in,
You’re not standing near as tall.

It was eternal hell,
Looking at you that day.
I kept asking myself,
"When will this all go away?"
But much to my disgust,
New you is here to stay
And I cry and I mourn,
Where we often use to lay.

I feel as in a cage,
I need to be let free.
I’m trapped by all this pain,
Only you posses the key
I cannot let you go,
I can’t just let it be
Only way I can deal,
Is to make you dead to me




I’m not in love with you.
I’m sitting here across the room I listen as you try and pick out an Ani song.
I look up from my paper,
Ghastly homework assignment,
Words that I don’t care about taking up my precious time
I stare.
The beauty which is you.
You which is the beauty.
It’s all subjective anyway.
I now remember...
I use to think I was in love with you.
I now remember why.
This feeling is strong,
Stronger than anything we could have accomplished if you had been...
If you had been my girlfriend.
You, my girlfriend.
You
Strong
Girl
Friend
You’re closer than any love
Any love I ever had.
I curl up with you at night and sink into a state of happiness.
Almost motherly
Sisterly
Loverly
Sisterly loverly motherly brotherly
All at once.
You warn me about the boys who are out to break my heart.
You shield me from the girls that like to tear people apart.
I soak in every word.
You mutter to yourself.
If you were talking to me...
You told me tonight that you thought I was too flirty towards you when we first met.
I’m like that with everyone.
...Thought you were...
Amazing
Dazzling
Wonderful
The day you first said hi to me.
I still think you’re amazing,
Though I now know that you have flaws,
Where they are,
Which ones I can pick at
Which flaws I never shall
"6...ugh...6...woah."
I laugh silently to myself.
I could laugh out loud, you wouldn’t mind.
You’re picking it out just fine.
I smile.
You realize I’ve stopped paying attention to my homework and I’ve been paying attention to you.
You smile back at me.
You turn back to your guitar.
I turn back to the damned paper.

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Comments:
[User Picture]From: moxie77
2003-09-05 09:40 pm (UTC)
i remember reading that first part of the poem on the wall...i still love it just as much now. you have an incredible gift for words...
i miss you...
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