San Francisco Poem

I am on a poem roll these days! I am so happy because I am in my creative writing class and we get to write write write. Here is a poem about time. Enjoy

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Ms. Zensius

Creative Writing, Period 5

February 9, 2018

Time

Buried beneath the Salesforce building

The phallic structures that pierce the sky

Rests hundreds of years of history

Hidden

Silent

Wanting to come up and cry:

“See us, hear us, listen to our stories”

We pound on your walls and bring rhythm to your streets

We, who have lived in this world,

We, who have ruffled your sheets

I, Emperor Norton of the United States, Protector of Mexico

Declare myself ruler of this city, newly unfurled

Magic snuffed by fast paced techies

The New Millennium leans

We are soil for veggies

You walk past in your jeans

We tell you to stop

Wait

Pause

Hand to the sidewalk

Have our narratives swapped

My royal fantasies may be fallacies

But you have the power

You have the key

Open me up and hear my story

Comments

Taron Hensley is a Pedophile.

Nine months later I emerge with the hopes of being vaccinated soon. FUcking hell. What a trip. This pandemic is going to require a lot of processing in the future but for now, I want to share and record some things I am very proud that I accomplished over this period of time. I was able to help start and run a campaign to eventually get my high school drama teacher who spread the rumor that I called the cops at a cast party which ruined my social life at that school while stalking me and my friends and constantly trying to get me in compromising and damn disgusting and gross situations. His charm to his superiors and the gaslighting and abuse of students has been heavily weighing on me in a way I have yet to fully deal with. I spoke out in high school and was silenced, threatened, and made to feel unwelcome. Yet the internet and living in a whole separate continent does wonders for confidence. I helped create a petition, gathered testimonies, and launched this campaign with my friends

Rainy Night Writing

There is something quite different about writing when it is raining outside than when it isn't. I despise my frozen toes and fingers, yet I love drinking chocolate almond milk with banana bread. It seems almost enchanting, like creativity is plopping on your rooftop. Writing in the rain, so odd. Writing in the rain It is like laughing during a thunder cloud, in perfect harmony with nature, rhyming and paralleling the weather, writing in the rain, creativity pours from you, as you hear the pitter patter, you wonder where the drops will all go, writing in the rain, a clean slate to begin again, a downpour of ideas, soon to come again, I love writing in the rain.

Outfits of Late Winter, and Early Spring

I hope you liked them!

Project Rainbow

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