a sestina

this is a complicated form to write... your end words have to repeat in a specific order... so it sounds like i'm repetitive but I'm forced to be that way. Enjoy.

I just remembered wearing my red dress

The one that I wore that night in California

It was considered a cold night there, it was 59 degrees

I drank red wine, I was 17. He was 22, he had a beard.

We ate outside, some considered us brave

And no other night has ever compared.

I’ve drank and laughed since then, but still it can’t be compared

I have never again worn that dress

I’ve never again been told I was brave

I no longer dream of living in California

But I am not 17 anymore, and the new guy can’t grow a beard.

Yes, I have a different somebody; we both almost have our degrees

Other things remain the same, water still freezes at 32 degrees

People are still judged and compared

That man I love(d), still has a beard

He says he keeps it trimmed now and he’s decided to dress

A bit nicer since he’s no longer a starving artist in Southern California

And I still won’t leave Oklahoma, because I’m not brave.

But what good is being brave?

Being willing to do things at high degrees

Of difficulty? Well, I could be living in California

Where the warmth and the waves cannot be compared

to the sweaty state I live in now, that is as red as the dress

I wore that night. I kissed his purple lips and black beard.

I wish I could forget his brown eyes and mysterious beard

But I cannot. So I sit and try to figure out what makes a man brave

What makes a woman want to dress

in red and sit outside when it’s not 75 degrees

and talk about the difference in pinot noir and cabernet sauvignon, they cannot be compared

he said, as we watch the orange sun go down in Los Angeles, California

He begged me to move in with him in lovely California

“You won’t ever have to wear a bra, and I’ll never shave my beard

You could be a writer or an actress” I compared

this with my lonesome gray life in Oklahoma, but I just wasn’t brave

enough to leave. I guess I wanted a few more winters with -8 degrees

I wonder if he still remembers my red dress…

Or how I compared to any other girl in Southern California

Who had a dress that was red, and liked kissing a man with a beard…

It’s 3 years later, and 4 degrees warmer, and I’m still not brave.

social network

dr hickman played a movie, the social network... and so i write...

social network....social network...

i wanna facebook you so hard

i wanna lick your twitter

message me! message me!

ahhhh... i just signed on!

chynna zeppelin

A Man in California (A twist to the song: California by Led Zeppelin)

Spent my days with a man that’s kind,
Smoked his stuff and drank all our wine.
Made up my mind to break a new heart,
left California with a shaking in my start.
Someone told me there’s a man out there
With tears in his eyes and maggots in his hair.
Took my chances on a tiny jet plane,
Never let them tell you that I’m not insane.
The mountains were blue and the sky was clear,
Wondered how yesterday could ever follow me here.
The ocean and the shores started to fall and break
As the demons in my mind began to make.
Seems that the face and doors
Got a punch on the head and it started to pour;
I think I might be floating.
Throw me an anchor if I’m going
Ill meet you down there where the path
Runs crooked and low.
To find a queen with two kings ;
They say she plays unfair and dances and sings .
ah ah ah ah
Ride a black mule in the footsteps of night
Tryin to find a man who’s never, never, never seen light .
Standing on a tree in my forest of dreams,
Telling myself its not as real, real, real, as it seems.

chynna/jimmy

.........moep

Driving

You know I usually hate to be alone

When I’m alone I don’t really feel alive.

But sometimes, I just wanna find my keys, get in my car, and drive.

And so I did that ( Maybe I needed to feel a little less alive)

And I drove around in the town that I live.

And thought about why it is I’m here.

I drove around listening to music loud; with my windows cracks and my guard down.

And I didn’t mind waiting at red lights… because I wasn’t in a rush.

I guess that’s a sign.. that you aren’t really driven− just nervous.

And uh… I saw a cop… I intentionally drove 12 miles over the speed limit.

Just hoping he’d pull me over−

Cause I couldn’t wait to say what I wanted.

When he gave some smart as comment−

Like,

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”

I was gonna say the most honest thing I’ve said in weeks,

“Nowhere.”

I was picturing the puzzled look he’d have on his face−

Wondering why some girl would drive around at such a speed

When she had no one to meet,

Or uh no deadline to make.

Just driving and driving… and I couldn’t wait−

But that black and white cop car just drove right past…

And I wondered if I was invisible

Or he just didn’t care right now…

And I didn’t like that−

I wanted someone to be concerned that I was driving around

At 1 o clock in the morning… but he let me down−

You see I drove around with a cigarette in my mouth

And I don’t even smoke…

Just wanted to do some damage I guess

Just wanted myself to know−

That I need something different in my life…

Something that doesn’t make me want to drive in circles

That doesnt make me want to drive away.

another poem, of course.

Apt 256

would you let me stay if I promised to clean the mold out of the coffee pot

and always kept the sink empty.

would you let me stay if I promised to stop crying

and didn’t get mad at you for spying.

will you let me sleep at the foot of your bed

if I promised not to snore or roll around

will you let me live here,

I promise I dont take up much room

and I dont make much sound

would you let me stay if I promised to always turn out the lights

would you let me stay if I was immune to fights

would you let me live here, I’ll clean out the closet and make it my home

so I could still hear your heartbeat when everything else is quiet

would you let me stay if I didnt insist on singing along with everysong

especially the ones i dont know at all

would you let me stay if i never lost my keys

or my phone or my wallet or my mind

would you let me live here if i pormised to remember everyhting i did

would you let me stay here if wasnt still a kid

would you let me live here if i didnt have fits of rage

would you let me stay if lived in a cage

you always said i was your bird

i would sit on my perch and never be heard

you can clip my wings

and lock my beak

but would you pet me at least once a weak?

tell me my feathers are pretty

and im your favorite dove

feed me worms made out of love

would you keep me if i was a basset hound

one that didnt trainging but was always around

i wouldnt bark and i wouldnt shed

id use your dirty laundry as my bed

would you let me stay if i was a drum

you could beat me as i listened to you hum

would you let me stay if i was your favorite place to sit

id carry your wait and never want to quit

would you let me stay if you could put me in a picture frame

you could look at me and i’d always be the same

not like i am now… always different than what you expect

built with out a mind and impossible to define

would you let me stay if i was you

always saying things that are true

would you let me stay if i was a wax candle

one that didnt burn you and didnt come unmantled

because right now im all over the place

and i dont seem to fit

and the look on your face tells me that your ready to quit

making more space for me to stay.

but maybe i could live on the patio

and youd never have to know

that i always kept my ear to the door

listening to your live a one man war

maybe i could be a welcome mat

or your gray hat

or your iphone

or your flannel shirt

or your shadow

or maybe I should just leave.

-Chynna

a real letter turned to a poem-

A Rant

You always told me I would grow out of only writing about sad things.

So I tried being funny but it just wasn’t the same.

Cause I still cant make you laugh.. turns out I don’t have a better half.

But I do have 4 quarters; hows that for some change?

I used to have empty pockets..

but now I just have deranged… dreams and convictions.

I have ideas and predictions.

Not about the stock market or weather.

More like the definition of forever.

And I know you say I rhyme too much

and I know I say you don’t care enough.

I think were both right but we’re more stubborn at night

and I guess putting up a fight hasn’t been worth the flight.

But love takes flight.. that’s what I heard once.

And I just try to do what my heart wants.

But you see it’s as bi polar as me and no one has me.

To call them their hippy or drink from my hands.

I guess this was not in our plan.

But did we even have one.. or was it all just illusions.

I know how they all work but I’m stuck in delusions.

You give me reason to write sad thoughts..

you give me a reason to connect the dots.

But in the mean time I have become disconnected.

From the kites I have collected.

All the strings tied to my wrists.

An anchor with out gravity and a million unclenched fists.

This makes up for my lack of self esteem when it comes to being seen.

I guess you could say I have been lying.

That I don’t really want to become a bird.

So I can fly far, far far away from here.

But I would like to have wings and maybe a lover here.

I live in a state shaped like a pan.

Its land locked and cock blocked. And doesn’t believe in yes we can.

But for now its where I am and for now its who I see.

Not that you agree.

And although I’m blind in one eye I can still see every color shape and size.

But the lack of two eyes results in no depth perception.

Meaning I live on uncompleted interceptions.

But there is one exception.

I have a slight sense of direction.

North east south west.

Being in the middle, or suffering from cardiac arrest.

Either way; my heart stops beating.

But I can’t bite the hand that’s feeding.

Me corn on the cob and seasonal depression.

And I save all my money, and I ignore the repression.

But my black market is doing fine.. and the watch on my wrist isn’t for keeping time.

Its for keeping score.

And I think that I’m winning.

And if not then that’s okay, because the room isn’t spinning.

Like it used to. When I thought of you.

all these tie dye dreams that made me scream

and all those paint splattered streets that I never crossed.

Because all my intentions were forgotten or lost.

Its true I have my regrets.. I should have never made a bet.

But I guess I didn’t have much to lose.

And I’ve never been afraid of abuse.

But yeah I have my doubt.

And I have my curiosity.

But most of all I have my generosity.

I’ll give you everything for nothing in return.

But I should warn you about the burn.

I will make an appearance in all of your dreams.

i’ll be dancing to all your screams.

But you won’t get a reaction.

And it will drive you wild.

I should have told you that before you made me smile.

But you did. so it will.

And I cant. So you wont.

But we could. But we won’t.

And he doesn’t. but he should.

And I have seen. What you never will.

And you think. But he does. You weren’t. But I was.

a poem- The Birds

The Birds

The birds are flying away from the nest

And the leaves are falling off the tree

They are like me

They are separating their selves from what they are told to believe.

That old wooden cross is now just two pieces of wood

When once it is where I proudly stood

But now I stand, unsteady

On natures evolving hand.

And I don’t feel as free,

But I do feel more alive

And I’m no better than a tree

We’re both just trying to survive.

-cc ollins