Ion even know what to call it...

Every which way the wind blows
is where you go,
I mean,
you move so swiftly
you cannot stay still to save
your life
your heart
MY life
MY heart
you Boeing piece of craftsmanship!
why don't you start drawing from the earth
instead of wind like me?
Seven forty seven, a time you're so fond of
soaring high, adrenaline's like jet fuel to you.
You float all accidental-like on a breeze
you feather. The down within my pillow
I hope you to be, but a bird in the air you remain.
I want to cage you,
but
you won't sing with me.
You wallow within the confines of my heart
cantankerous, cankerous, cancerous you become.
I know without your wind, your flight, your migration
you will surely die, and
the feathers of hope upon you no longer serves purpose
to me
to the world.
So, GET! Fly with your
Luftwaffe,
you 100th luftballon.

Not Accepting Applications

Not Accepting Applications

tears
and raindrops
soak through
the paper
dissolving the ink
and any possibilities
of me
taking the job
that
I felt SO qualified to do.

Hopeful was I,
GIDDY was ME,
a woman ready to
reenter the workforce
for the tough job
of relationships
and when I,
when i
stepped up
to the door
of that INSTITUTION
and saw that
SIGN....

it said "not accepting applications"
and my whole wall of
hope and
excitement
came falling
--a myriad of bricks,
it seemed--
down and
crushed all my...
boy, i'm hurt.

So, now
I stand at the locked door
looking helplessly
at the inside.
Two people
with party hats,
hugging, filled with joy.
Wish one was me.
I can't lie.
But I pass off
my tears as raindrops falling
on my face,
like the skies
cry FOR me,
and walk away.

Dig

This is a poem I wrote in the middle of the night lol.
You can say it was inspired by a friend who uses the word "dig" a lot. LOL.
ENJOY!

Is it ok if I say I dig you?
I mean, you are quite the archaeological find
Sifting through these sands of time,
slowly,
CAREFULLY,
Recruiting more men to help me complete my
excavation,
hoping to find that priceless artifact
You
have hidden underneath all that
Ruin.
All those years of
wear,
abandonment,
DESECRATION of monuments
that once stood
high
with esteem now lay dormant.
Oh, my Maachu Picchu,
my Sphinx without a nose,
my fragile yet complex Terra Cotta army,
what secrets lie below your lithosphere?
You are submerged like Cleopatra's Temple,
as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa,
and as pragmatic as the original Holy Bible.
If I brush the dust away from those
hieroglyphs,
will I be able to
decode you
with my Rosetta Stone?
If I could
discover that
COVETED
National Treasure you guard with
your
puzzling labyrinth that lies just beneath
the surface,

I wouldn't exploit it.
I would protect it
I would treasure it
and
I would share
The compelling tale of how I uncovered
and earned
the valuable treasure YOU held within.

(Written by Cierra T. 3/13/2010 @ like 3 am lol.