Four Island

Lying perpendicularly in a bed one day, I surfed YouTube instead of doing an English project, and in doing so, I discovered Marina & the Diamonds's video, The Archetypes, which I am very surprised that I have not yet heard as I am a huge Marina fan. Now, listening to this very interesting track, I became inspired to write some poetry. Well, it wasn't only Marina, it was also my English teacher aunt, yesterday, telling me that April 26th was Poem In Your Pocket Day, that inspired me to write some poetry. Regardless, here are a few pieces of strange poetry that I hope you like. Don't be scared away by the first--it is definitely the strangest.

Housewife

Find a stage to fall down on
No one else will save you
Find the key and throw it out
Before he comes and wrecks you
Savagery is all abound
You have seen it, haven’t you?

Haven’t you?

Are we real?

The documents, they describe what you saw and what you know
What you tried to hide so long, everybody will disclose
Everybody and his brother, they are going to see your past
Don’t be shamed and don’t be scared, it’s only justice
And you will win

You’ll win this one

He won’t come back
Until tomorrow
When it all starts again

Tomorrow is another day
Tomorrow is another past
Another past for you to forget
As the wave rolls off your back
And you drown amidst the sand
Amidst the lies that brought you back
You should not have to settle for the worst
When the best is only a drop away
A drop of blood
A drop of clumsiness
A drop, a drop, but it’s falling off his shoulder now
Pooling at your feet
‘Cause this time it’s your fault
This time you’re dead
This time, you couldn’t control it, not that anyone would blame you
But it’s far too late for that

In the darkness, there are no smiles
Nobody can see you
But in your mind, you replay the past
And realize only he could

Ode To A Glass of Spilled Milk

Oh milk, how I detested you
Even as you sat in your glass
The years of innocence that flew away
When I finally took that first sip
I could describe it as rippling
I could describe it as putrid
Alike, alone, but never disowned
I never felt the same after that first day
Idle teen, singing queen, never seen, in between
Why case yourself when there is so much more to be had?
The puddle flows over my jacket
The puddle stains the floor
The puddle cries for help, now
But nobody listens, not a soul
Nine of hearts, burning tarts, fickle hearts, candy marts
I always thought there was one way
And that it was never the way I took
And in the midst of the vanishing impunity
I stopped in the middle of the road
The houses all sighed with me
And the screaming lilies held their silence
I scoop it up with a dripping sponge
And pour it down the drain
But in reality, it’s me that’s fallen
Not the fetid liquid
So, future husbands and beauty queens:
Don’t ever get caught with this job

Happiness Comes In Small Packages

And sometimes, they’re a bit difficult to find.
When the mailman leaves them at your doorstep
It’s likely that someone will take it
And pawn it
And find another use for it.
One man’s happiness is another man’s drudgery
And whenever you find something to hold on to
Never forget the ones who will try to steal it.
A box, when opened, can never replace
Its forgone joys, its relinquished sadnesses,
And though it will never see them again
You can rest easily knowing it doesn’t care.
A box is a box, and a tree is a tree.
But a box cannot climb a tree, no more that a tree can fit in a box.
So when a small girl finds happiness in climbing a tree,
And a raccoon finds happiness in eating a box
You come to realize that there are things that don’t fit inside
The packages and containers you obsessively tried to fill.