Growing Pains

Alicia Proto

March 20, 2014

Poem

                                                            Anything is Possible

You’re the character from all my stories

The one in all my poems

Somehow every person I’ve met after you

Any other I could write about

Only leads me back down this familiar road

back to your safe house.  

You are the one I think about at night

I listen to old songs that leave me hugging myself tight

When the room is cold

And only my mind stays light

With the warmth of your presence in my head

As I curl up smaller in this far too big bed.

You are the heroine in my tragic tale

I sigh just pondering your face

How it changes as different emotions take shape.

You fought off my demons

Scared the monsters under my bed

Said you’d never leave me

Had me convinced you’d be there til I was dead.

You’re the song I so badly want to sing

Even though it feels like sin

Like how just the sound of a powerful wind

Can still numb my room temperature skin.

There’s a picture in my mind when I close my eyes

Its almost always winter time

A season where these feelings blossomed

Even in the dead of cold

The look of your eyes staring into mine

Made me feel not so alone.

Mother Nature can tell that I long for you

She teases me with every gust of wind

Spinning abandoned leaves in a dance

That tickles the skin

I was always waiting for my life to begin

Until you walked in

I was aimlessly looking for a sign

I was blind until the night you looked into my eyes.

Is this obsession?

When a beam of light

On a cloudy winters day

Warms my face

Beams so strong

If I shut my eyes

 it almost feels like may.

Its you I picture there

Looking up at the same sky

Wondering how all this time has flown by.

Insanity is a terrifying game

And here I sit typing, feeling so terribly insane.

Sadly, don’t have any tears left to cry.

So I just sigh

And wait for the clouds to go by

As to hide the sun

The frigid air reminding me

that there’s really no one there.

Reminding me

How life never promises

To be fair. 

Music

Alicia Proto

March 18, 2014

Poetry

                                                            Music

Let me sing to you

 the melody in my head

 It sounds like the wind chimes

Hung by an open window with moving blinds

Let me dance to the beat of this song

I’ll spin in circles

 Smile turning round

 all night long

Escape with me awhile

Lets waste time next to a calm dark nile

Run til our knees go weak

till our lungs go out

Chasing intoxicating heat.

All we need to move our feet

Keep them in motion

While our strides become neat.

I want to write poetry

 Describing the lines on your face

The expression in your eyes

Watch how your eyebrows rise

With wonder and surprise

I could get lost in those eyes

Lay my ear to your breast

Listen to how the sound of my voice increases your breath

As I talk about fate.

I want to paint

Paint the curve of your lips

How pink they are after we kiss

How powerful they are in this temporary bliss

How I didn’t know at the time

that they’d be ones I always miss.

Lets roam in our own fantasies.

Mold sculptures of our hearts

Then hide them in a bed of leaves.

Lets meditate in a field of grass

Dress in our best clothes

And take photographs.

Pose in our young and fare skin

Snap a moment in time

When our lives were waiting to begin

This is our time

Young and kind

New to the world

Still unharmed by fear of the divine.

No we are invincible from time

Our illustrious smiles

Candy to the eye

Seen even by the blind

Sending radio waves of good intentions and wine.

Our words may never die.

For as they are thought,

Sprouting through my fingers

A Metamorphosis from my brain

They come alive on the page

They are infinite here

They dance to the songs that were written from fear.

Here life is so clear.

Here death barely near.

Here

Is where I have come to love you my dear.

To write of the ways of how loving makes me fear nothing

But losing this feeling.

What is the right way to live?

"Our human nature is to make our own pure and imperfect connections to something and...not live through it but to find comfort in it. " 

Comfort. Such an important word to human beings. How could we ever get though life without some form of comfort? 
Comfort to accompany the challenging things we take on to give us character, to mold us into stronger more knowledgable beings. 

Yes, comfort and challenges go week together - for without one or the other we do not grow into healthy beings- rather we fall into the trap of staying too comfortable or pushing ourselves to hard. 

Insanity. 
Such a heavy word.
Hold it in your hand, and you'll fear it may climb its way to your heart. 
Insanity. 
Such a comforting place. An excuse to escape this place. Let me resign in my head til I'm back in the comfort of my own bed. 

I am angry. That is for certain. At myself most of all, but i give credit to the other factors. 
The boys who yank my heart strings without playing a note. 
The friends who abandoned me before they knew i would float. 
The girl who left me for dead to look for my own hope. 

These are what led me to this blog today. All the struggles in my life that have come up at bay. 

I am numb here, i should have pushed through. Its not too late for me, but theres no doubt that i know I've lost you. 
All ill absolutely have is myself. And i must make the best of this life before i fall into another depressive spell. 

Carpe diem! make your lives extraordinary! don't wait for a miracle- make your own glory. 

Spoken Word

My latest project.
Taking my poetry and bringing it to life.



http://newyork.cbslocal.com/guide/5-best-venues-for-spoken-word-and-poetry-readings-in-new-york/

Metro.

Oh how i love to see a beautiful poem on the back of metro cards!
They call it Poetry in Motion
Its the least the MTA could so charging a dollar for a new card!
Here's the beauty on the back of my unlimited:

The Good Life
By Tracy K Smith 1972

When some people talk about money
They speak as if it were a mysterious lover
Who went out to buy milk and never
Came back, and it makes me nostalgic
For the years I lived on coffee and bread,
Hungry all the time, walking to work on payday
Like a woman journeying for water
From a village without a well, then living
One or two nights like everyone else
On roast chicken and red wine.

Now read it again. 

This was my initial thoughts after I just reread it:

What are we running towards? 
Eeverything you need is right here, right now. 
Because all we really have is right now. 
Right now and the memories of past nows. 
Right now with the people in our present. 
With the beauty of today. 
Today being a miracle to still be breathing this air that is to temporary.  

We're forever unfililled

"we're forever unfilfilled."

forever unsatisfied.

forever thirsty for SOMETHING.
Sex. Affirmation. Love. Food. Sex. Sleep. Repeat.

but every life has the same end - death.

we die unfulfilled.
or perhaps we carry on.
who knows.

The point is to live in the this feeling your feeling now.
Pay attention and take note because soon it will all change.
It will change and change and then change again til your dead.

So all life is is embracing the change and pondering the past, looking for hidden lessons or messages beneath the reality. To make sense of you life, so that its one not wasted.

beauty is wasted on the youth.
an evolved mind, that a beauty of a different kind.
Like one who can understand the heart of another mind.
How to nuture as to affirm
how to supply comfort
to distract
to connect and lean back.

life dont come easy to the rich or the poor
money cant solve all the riddles soon in store
best we can do is love and pretend
that it can be enough to have these years with a friend.

travel alone

How can I know your love is one I  can be sure of?

Songs of romance only gives me false hope that two people can actually stay in love.

We live in too selfish of a world, where to ask one to stay is just as selfish as trying to leave

why did all these fairytales forget to mention their based off makebeleive?

I had a love once that never had time to grow.

It died by the winter time and I still mourned it till two summers ago.

I had hoped a new love would bloom in its place, but instead friendship has done well to lead me to this fate

I may be destined to travel alone

something just as beautiful, if not more poetically toned.