Where Has All the Content Gone?

Not much going on. I'm going to post a poem or two after a survey. Damn The Nanny. She tagged me. And everyone else. So here it is. All of my dark secrets revealed by the time I count to 12. Only not:

1.) What I was doing ten years ago: Being a crazy second grader. You know how we do.
2.) Five years ago: Being miserable. Moving schools is really not fun. Yar.
3.) One year ago: Trying not to die from the sudden shock that is junior year.
4.) Yesterday: Probably nothing.
5.) 5 snacks I enjoy: Pocky. Honey toast. Cheetos. Pirouettes. Reese's.
6.) 5 Things I would do if I suddenly had $100 million: Buy at least one horse. Buy a ranch. Complete the collections of all my fandoms.
7.) 5 locations I would like to run away to: Whitefish. Narnia. Hogwarts. MCR's tour bus. Behind the veil.
8.) 5 bad habits I have: Touching my face. Biting my cuticles. Being ADD. Staying up too late. Taking life too fast.
9.) 5 things I like doing: Reading. Watching anime. Fangirling. Being with Sidera. Writing.
10.) 5 TV shows I like: Will & Grace. The Office. Naruto. Prison Break. Law & Order: SVU.
11.) 5 things I hate doing: Homework. Being fake. Feeling guilty. Feeling close-minded. Fighting with people I love.
12.) 5 Biggest joys of the moment: Sidera. Love. Music. The solitude my mind provides. Hope.



That was fun. Er. Or something. Now for some poetry. Everyone got their berets? Well then, let us begin:

Iris

Where Iris sprawls in peaceful symphonia,

The colors mingle in euphoric grace.

Dip your brush into the clashing hues:

Dole out plums dyed deep with wine.

Let the reddest of peppers lick fire to your tongue.

Coat yourself with cultured beige.

Snatch the pearly sweetness of each pastry.

Immerse your world in make-believe cacti dreams.

A deluge of sensory ecstasy.

All in a moment—

Grow close to distant minds—

All in a glance—

Let the canvas spirit your senses away—

Away in a flash of colorful understanding.

Lalalala. Next one.

Inside

The wind gropes,

Through darkness.

I know it will find us.

But I am not afraid.

Holding her

Holding me.

We clutch in vain

At the warmth of those fires.

After Zephyrus has caressed

Untold fissures of our limbs,

He will know:

It is not his touch that makes us quake.

Our beating hearts

Match the beating drums.

Betraying no answers.

But we are not afraid.