Butterflies

At this point, words are not necessary.
We shut the movie off, dim the lights and fall into each other’s embrace.
My head finds its home on his chest
while I listen to his heart race in between each of his slow, rhythmic breaths.
I alternate between drawing obscure shapes on his shoulder with my fingers
and running my hand through the curls of his perfectly disheveled hair.
Simultaneously, his hand runs from the base of my neck, down my arm, and to my lower back,
never lingering for more than a second
before making its way back up.
This motion repeats. And repeats.
The movement of his hand is so soothing that my eyes begin to shut
and my mind flirts with the notion of sleep.
But sleeping in a situation like this would not be sensible.
This situation is so calm,
so tranquil, so relaxing,
that I want to absorb every drop of its beauty into my conscious being.
I lift my head the slightest bit, and he looks down at me.
I kiss his soft cheek, flash him my most sincere smile,
and proceed to sink back into the most comfortable position I’ve ever been in
on this college dorm-room bed.
Moments like this one instantaneously turn my stomach into a domicile for excited butterflies
and I am not complaining.

*Amber

Epitome of Perfection

Kwincy needed a Ballad for his class, so I wrote one for him. I'm such a good friend! Here it is:

Today I woke to such a sight

I thought it was a dream

The presence of such beauty made

My soul calm and serene

Her face consumed by such a grace

Impossible to find

I knew that very moment that

I had to keep her mine

Enveloped in a dreamlike state
her body soft and still
The bronze glow of her tender skin
and curves like gentle hills

Her hair flowed softly ‘cross the bed,

As smooth as quiet streams
Her beauty overtook me
and I couldn’t help but beam

I looked upon her porcelain face
her lips had formed a smile
She rubbed the tired from her eyes
and yawned wide as the Nile

I placed my arm around her and
I whispered in her ear,
“Good morning my fair angel. Did
you sleep well here, my dear?”

She curled up to my body, placed
her hand upon my chest
Looked up in my direction and
said, “Dear, I slept the best.”

I lowered my face downward and
I kissed her rosy cheek
Automatically I shivered,
(and) my muscles became weak

I mustered up the strength to lift
my body out of bed
I pulled her along with me, held
her soft hands while I said,

“I think it’s time to tell you the

Word ‘like’ is obsolete
You make my heart swell twice its size-

I love you.” Short and sweet.

 *Amber

Unique and Glorious

I’ve never met one
who becomes more beautiful
every time he speaks.

*Amber

Alone Tonight

Inspiration has been lacking.
All excitement’s nonexistent.
Screaming silence is attacking
me. And, boy, is it persistent.

Every wall’s splattered with empty,
Every window’s seeping darkness.
This bed’s consumed with lonely,
And this body’s feeling heartless.

*Amber

Eternal Life

You can have eternal life-
Just impress someone. Stun someone.
Embed yourself in their mind and you’ll have won a prize comprised of
perpetual life.

If you’re wise, you’ll impress the world.
You’ll live forever in conversations between girls,
boys, women, and men-
Your name will leak from the tips of their pens.
You could be immortalized on pages
bound in books
that lie on desks
inside of classrooms.
You could be the topic of online chat rooms,
or blogs
that will exist after your physical body is gone.

You can become famous- or infamous
the choice is yours.

Einstein lives behind our science,
Morrison behind The Doors.
Washington throughout our country,
Mozart lives throughout his scores.
Hitler lives inside the minds of any human with a heart,
but that kind of eternal life will tear people apart.

A positive impression upon everyone you meet
seals a life after your death in slab of hard concrete.
Don’t allow yourself to pass, leaving nothing but closed eyes…
Just because you’re dead, doesn’t mean you have to die.

*Amber

David.

There is this guy I know.
Well, this man I know
and I think more about him
then he’ll ever know.

See, but this thing called time
and this torture called distance
beat and pound on our friendship
with utmost persistence.
We lose touch for months at a time, for instance..

Sometimes
my insides feel like something’s missing..
like a kidney, or a lung..
something important. I’m always reminiscing
of when we were young,
kissing on the swings that swung on our
playground, just because it was fun…
but we needed practice somehow!

We were inseparable, but look at us now.
The time that we allow to pass between
conversations
sometimes feels like shattered glass,
piercing a beautiful creation that’s 13 years
in the makin’.

And I’ll tell you now, that months may go by
and it sucks, but that’s life. But a phone call or text
and I’ll be by right your side.

And I’ll never give up-
because OUR bond is tough
Like a 2 dollar steak,
except what WE have
would make filet mignon taste fake.

HAHA.. See, I can make jokes,
but let’s be real,
 we’re not the average “friend” folks.
We’ve been close since I was
6 years old..
and not once have I felt
your heart of gold grow cold.

You’ve been right there for me
physically.
Mentally.
Anyway you could be
through my hardships-
and I always knew you would be.

And I know that times right now
are hard for you..
But I’m armored up, and I’ll take the scars for you.
Don’t fold your cards, you’ve been dealt a great hand.
Some things will happen that weren’t planned,
but I help you through them the best that I can.

I guess what I’m really trying to have known
is that I realize I’m bad at answering the phone,
and sometime’s it might seem like I don’t really care,
but I want you to know, It’s the opposite, I swear..
The piece of my heart that YOU occupy
can never be replaced by another.
No guy will come between us, no girl friend will either..
NOTHING in this world will be a divider.

David Laratta,
You ARE my BEST friend
And that will forever remain true.
Because I, Amber Corcoran,
won’t allow this to end,
and I will ALWAYS love you.

*Amber

So, You Want To Be A Writer?

A great poem by Charles Bukowski.

If it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.

Unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.

If you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.

If you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.

If you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.

If you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.

If it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.

If you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.

If you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.

If it never does roar out of you,
do something else.


If you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

Don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.

The libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.

Don't add to that.

Don't do it.

Unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.

Unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

When it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

There is no other way.
And there never was.

Selfish?

I don’t want to erase you from my mind…
But I wish more than anything 
 that I could erase myself from yours.

*Amber

Consolation.

Our philandering is futile.
Our sober interactions are dull,
but those in our inebriated states
tend to scintillate. 

When we converge, you smile.
Your flirtatious gestures lull,
and ephemeral love compensates
for tomorrow’s lonely fate.

Is this adoration,
or simply consolation?

*Amber

I Hate This War...

War. I hate it.
Maybe I’m selfish, but a man I care about is over there.
And everyday he is gambling with his life…
I hate it.

I want him back.
I want all the troops back.
Why can’t we all just love each other?

I honestly don’t get it.
I seriously don’t.
No one likes death.
No one likes loosing the ones they care about…

So why have a war? Over simple things?
Everyone should share. Everyone should care.
Individuals. Groups. Nations. Everyone.
There should be no bombings.
No attacks.
No murders.
No torture.
No wars.
No HATE.

I don’t get it!
This world would be so wonderful
if everyone just LOVED!
Is it so hard to ask?

It makes me so angry…
But I suppose anger is what fuels all of this.
I suppose I’m a hypocrite.
But what can I do?
*Amber

Facebook.

Sleep.

Sleep.

12:18 am.  I’ll sleep soon.

Log into my Facebook.
Read my notifications.
Check my messages.
Scroll up and down that hardly-changing newsfeed 107 times.
Pretend to care about “what’s up” with my online acquaintances.
12:35 am. I pull myself out of the internet addiction that most of us are sucked into.

Whoops.

12:37 am. That familiar “bloop” of an Instant Message has sounded.
Oh look. A message from a guy that attended the same elementary school.
I have not seen nor spoken to him since then.
He comments on the pleasantness of my anatomy above my waist and below my neck.
He signs off. I creep on his page.
It happens.

12:45 am. I’ll sleep soon.

Move from my couch.
Get in my bed.
Cover myself in blankets and
Set my laptop by my side.
I check for new notifications- Just one last time.

12:49 am. Four new notifications.
“Two other people also commented on Joe’s status.”
I had to look.
...Eh, whatever. Next.
Jess liked my comment, “NERD.”
I chuckle. I’m funny like that.
Next.
Curt commented on his status in reply to my earlier comment.
I reply again.
He replies again.
He IM’s me. We chat.

Oh yeah, I still have one notification.
Oh, it’s gone now. Another Facebook glitch.
What else is new.
Curt says goodnight.
12:58 am. I say goodnight back.

Oh no!
Just remembered I never replied to that message I received earlier.
That really important one
That one that I was putting off responding to.
I type.
I think.
I re-read.
I revise.
I re-read again.
I hit send.
1:21 am. Let me just check this notification..

“Alex liked your photo 8 minutes ago.”
Aw. How sweet.

1:22 am. Time for sleep.

Sleep…
yes, sleep.
I fall asleep.

4:37 am. Awoken by a text notification.
“You have been poked on Facebook by Greg.”

I’m awake. I log on.
Instantly I hear that familiar “bloop”.
It’s my deployed, soldier ex-boyfriend.
4:40 am, my time. 2:20 pm, his time.
His message reads, “Why are you awake?”

I sigh to myself and simply reply;
“It’s a long story..

But these insomnia-inducing nights are getting old.
I think I’m deactivating my Facebook.”

4:52 am. Goodnight.

*Amber

Her Sounds.

Noise escapes her mouth
Noise escapes her mouth
Lingering are loud and obnoxious sounds
Lingering are loud and obnoxious sounds
Obnoxious noise escapes her mouth
and loud sounds are lingering.

She screams her feelings
She screams her feelings
and yells her excitement
and yells her excitement.
Her excitement, her feelings
she yells and screams.

Sporadic jolts of energy
Sporadic jolts of energy
My ears, pierced by shrieking
My ears, pierced by shrieking
Sporadic shrieking jolts my ears,
pierced by energy.

Sporadic noise she screams
Her jolts are loud and lingering.
Sounds pierced my ears.
Obnoxious screams, she yells
of energy, excitement, and feelings.

*Amber

This Is Reality.

So, maybe I’m the only one who laughs at my jokes,
but at least I’m smiling.

Maybe I don’t look like a supermodel when my clothes come off,
but at least I’m comfortable with my self-image.

Maybe I’m not a prodigy in the classroom,
but at least I can sustain an intelligent conversation.

Maybe I won’t sleep with you the first night,
but at least I have morals.

Maybe profanity never seeps from my lips,
but at least I speak with some class.

Maybe I don’t play many sports,
but at least I’ll attempt any and be able to laugh at my amateurism.

Maybe drugs aren’t fun to me,
but at least I’m high on life.

Maybe I don’t always know what advice to give,
but at least I’m genuinely listening.

Maybe I believe some things that I shouldn’t,
but at least I don’t have trust issues.

Maybe I do some “stupid” things,
but at least I’m open-minded.

Maybe I make mistakes multiple times,
but at least I eventually learn something from them.

Maybe I’m not your dream girl…
but at least I realize this is reality.

*Amber

Thanks, Chuck. (A Slam Poem.)

“Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I’ve ever known.”
Once on Chuck Palahniuk’s paper,
these words embedded themselves into my mind,
instantly provoking an immense amount of thought…
 and I am thankful.

Every morning I rise,
head to the bathroom and
brush my teeth with “Arm and Hammer Advanced White” toothpaste.
Day in and
day out, my routine does not falter.
She does not know, but this part of me exists
because of her
and I am thankful.

Nightly, usually without fail,
a steaming cup of tea
slides down my throat, warming me
from the inside out,
soothing my soul in preparation for rest
until the following sunrise.
He does not know, but this part of me exists
because of him
and I am thankful.

When I want nothing more
than to escape the world…
or when stress levels rise to
a climax
that I can no longer bear…
or I solely want time
to clear my mind or relax…
I head straight to the beach,
no matter the season
nor time.
They do not know, but this part of me exists
because of each of them
and I am thankful.

When emotions
or inspiration
or anything worth remembering
consumes my mind,
I race to my journal to immortalize said feeling
in a poetic masterpiece,
unique to my own hand
and my own mind.
He does not know, but this part of me exists
because of him
and I am thankful.

And the book that I hold dear to me…
the one that has advanced
 from a composition notebook
filled with scribbles, scratches, and colored pen marks
to a hard-cover journal
filled with nothing but
beautiful lines of script, composed
by a fine black pen…
Words that were derived from my heart
and my mind
always finish with my name, signed.
He does not know, but this part of me exists
because of him
and I am thankful.

They do not know, but

I wear slippers
instead of socks
while in my room
because of her.

My bed remains
neatly fashioned
if I am not occupying the sheets
because of them.

I tend to travel
 just five miles over
the speed limit,
subconsciously pushing my luck,
because of him.

I fill my ears with
country,
hip hop,
alternative,
reggae,
and the occasional
 “scream-o” music
because of him, her, him, her, and him.

Every mannerism,
hobby,
borderline obsession,
or routine
that is a part of my life,
no matter how miniscule
or irrelevant,
exists because someone,
somewhere
has introduced me
to each action or thought.

And for that,
I am eternally grateful,
and forever thankful.
Thanks, Chuck.


*Amber

Warmth and Assurance.

Your crystalline eyes remain frozen on mine..
our hands clasped, we embrace under covers.
With our bodies appressed, our heart rates incline,
we’ve always been passionate lovers…

You embed your love deep into my bones,
as I’m frenzied at once with your touch.
This adoration won’t falter by sticks nor by stones,
We admire this love way too much.

Let‘s adjoin our hands, I’ll stay close by your side
as we race down this timeline of life.
A future with you is here, and implied,
No matter our quarrels or strife.

Envisioning love lasting years past the present,
I’m enveloped in warmth and assurance,
That no matter the miles, hardships, and unpleasants,
your kiss is an expected occurrence.

*Amber

Quickly and Simply..

Quickly and simply, you’ve done it once more,
Slipped into my mind, as you have before.
Just a gentle hug and a shy ‘hello’,
And you’re back in my thoughts, as you were long ago.

Our first night together is filled with rapport,
and quickly and simply, you’ve done it once more.
You’ve twisted my mind and left me confused,
but come morning light, once again you’re my muse.

Gentle kisses and limbs intertwined under sheets,
make it hard to resist our intimate heat.
Quickly and simply, you’ve done it once more,
just like in the past, sending chills through my core.

Eternalized in journals, night after night,
You’ll remain on these pages you’ve caused me to write.
You inscrutable man, you’ve left me unsure... of how
quickly and simply, you’ve done it once more.


*Amber

Prose From a Near Insomniac.

          I, at night, have been occupying such a sorrowfully poetic environment that it is nearly impossible and borderline unacceptable for me not to immortalize my encounters, by hand, on bound pages.  I knowingly dove headfirst into a whirlpool of conflicting emotions.  900 miles away resides a man smitten with me; I left him wallowing in the dust of a Volkswagen belonging to a man just a tad more exciting at the moment.  Barreling through Jersey, Delaware, Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia, and Kentucky, I knew no regret.  Something about the driver to my left veiled my conscience.  Was it his spontaneity? His mysterious persona?  The way he put a smile on my face with little to no effort?  I could continue to list the ‘maybes’, but that would be superfluous.   I’m sure the true reason I find myself in his bed nightly, is because I’m aware that I will never enter his heart.  One will always chase what they cannot have, it’s true… So I’ll chalk it up to that.  Either way, Friday’s sunrise will bring a literal half-world separation between us for another year, and I will return home to the man whose love for me will run down his cheeks as I attempt to console him… as I attempt to console myself.  It’s no mystery as to why sleep tends to escape me at night.

*Amber

Let it happen.. Love, that is.

You cannot believe in love, but at least you can admit it.
Though, any love I give will be forever unrequited.
True love is indefinable, and of that I am sure…
But I do know love is something that resides inside one’s core.

One’s mind is very powerful, but sometimes is destructive.
Don’t be afraid to shut it down and make your heart instructive.
One thing I can surely tell you, even if I sound naïve,
Is love is honestly attainable when you just believe.

*Amber

Win It.

Their bodies intertwined,
his breath upon her skin,
and no, she wont give in.
She's relaxed and she's reclined,
but she's used to his kind.
This one he has to win.

Comfort and love differ.
She knows this as a fact.
Just going through the acts
wont suffice for her.
(More than) his presence should occur.
He should fill what her heart lacks.

Come on, boy, win her love.
She knows what youre made of
and she wants what you want.
It's just stamped on her heart in a less-bold font.
Get closer to her heart to read it.
Once you have, you have succeeded.

*Amber

Will This Ever Work?

Will this ever work? I cannot be sure.
It honestly depends on how much we can both endure.
I’m a young adult. You’re a full-grown man.
Reality will prove it will be harder than we plan.
We’re in different worlds, but both of us are smart.
So let’s just make sure nothing breaks the bond between our hearts.
Could this soon be love? We will wait and see.
I’ll make this work with you, if you will make this work with me.

*Amber

Risque.

I want to take a risk with you.
Though, I have taken some before
I know…
I’m risking being solely used
For pleasure and for nothing more…

The question I ask everyday
is “When do risks become risqué?”



*Amber

Always Thinking Of You.

I've been trying and trying to fill your place.
Short romances make this heart race, but they never survive to see leather and lace.
Fingers trace skin, hands caress, we embrace,
but actions are halted- he's not an ace.
I brace myself for the awkwardness, but I enjoy being chased; only it's not you.
You were a disgrace, so why do I care?
You can't be replaced, you can't be erased.
I'm leaving myself available, just in case. But why?
I see your face, feel your touch and my mind is displaced.
I suppose I need to recall the arms race that occurs everytime we get serious.
In reality, you were more of a "third base" than a "home run".
I guess maybe I'm not over our love.
But neither are you.
You told me, it's true.
Remember when we met up for dinner and couldn't help but review and recall all we'd been through?
I told you about the man I was looking to pursue, and you were jealous..
I dont know if you knew, but when you spoke about your girl, I was jealous, too.
Ah man... Why did we let all of these emotions accrue?
Oh, Mike's* calling, I have to go.
Just know, baby, when I'm with him I'll be thinking of you.


*=Name was changed* haha.

*Amber

Realize.

It’s never too late to be something exceptional.
In fact, you already are.
It’s not too late to realize it.

It’s never too late to decide a future for yourself.
Chances are, you’ll change your mind a few more times.
It’s not too late to realize it.

It’s never too late to reestablish connects with drifted friends.
They still have adorations for you.
It’s not too late to realize it.

It can very easily be too late to extinguish your drug habit.
You would be foolish to take such a grim chance.
It’s definitely the time to realize it.

I am here for you.
We’ll walk hand in hand
And take this step by step.
It’s not too late to realize it.

*Amber

Liar Forgiven Once.

You portray the illusion you're flawless
As you try very hard to mislead me.
I have standards for men, I'm not lawless.

So-called "facts" that you tell me are stories.
They've been derived from your dishonest mind.
I require a man with TRUE glories.

Why don't you speak what is true and unwind
Before my tolerance for you is gone.
My advice- wise up or get left behind.


*Amber

Do it: A Tanka.

Sweep me off my feet,
Send me into psychosis.
You have permission.
Steal me from reality
Show me something wonderful.

*Amber

An Etheree About a Boy.

I
want you
to know that
a mere three weeks
has not allowed for
my memory of you
to completely diminish.
I can't pass a Barnes and Noble,
read a poem by Chuck Palahniuk,
or listen to the Spill Canvas, without
nostalgic thoughts of you flooding my mind.
You taught me not to assume things but
it's hard not to assume the worst
when you were not effected,
or it just seemed that way.
It hurt to let go,
at least for me,
and I won't
forget
you.

*Amber

A glimpse into the past.

A glimpse into the past was seen
when I met him, first day at Kean.
Familiar personality,
one that had brought pain to me.

Promiscuous, but yet serene,
a glimpse into the past was seen.
Biceps bulging, short-sleeves cuffed,
I knew him not, but well enough.

Intentions not admirable,
though he was still desirable.
A glimpse into the past was seen,
he doused old wounds with his saline.

This time I won't be so naive.
The words he says, I won't believe.
Refuse to be where I have been,
a glimpse into the past was seen.

*Amber

Summer 2010.

My summer has been hot and crazy like a pot of boiling water.
Only now the days grow shorter and the sun, which plays the role of the flame beneath the pot, is ceasing to shine as brightly and intensely.
Which in turn, is causing all the molecules of summer to take a break from their excitement and simply calm down.
The only problem I find with this newfound relaxation is how dull it's becoming.
I'm beginning to dislike the fact that my only inspiration has been lack of inspiration.
I'm not asking for a rapid boil, but excitement at a simmer would be nice.
I'm off to seek a hotter flame to stir up this last week.

*Amber

Single-word Masterpiece.

There is nothing more attractive to me in this world than a man who can turn a single word into a poem.  That shows proof that he puts thought into each and every syllable he dictates and every beautiful letter that flows out of his mind and through the tip of his fine black pen.  He turns one word into a poem and I get a tiny surge of lust rush from my brain and down my core.  He follows up by reading dozens of pieces of his art, composed of thousands of words, which coming from his mouth, sends an equivalent feeling of a thousand times the reaction to his single-word masterpiece originally.  Ha.. I'd like to hear him tell me again that he doesn't tease me.

Prelude to my poetry.

I guess I'll start with the poem that kicks off my physical journal. :)
*****************

This journal's filled with poems and prose.
Nonsense to you, I would suppose.
Just words and thoughts straight from my mind,
these pages are my life, defined.
My deepest feelings are enclosed.

My works have cons and they have pros,
but mostly honesty exposed,
and at the end my name is signed.
This journal's filled...

The facts I've written no one knows,
though now my secrets are disclosed.
My creations are not refined
a full percentage of the time.
Read on and see how they're composed.
This journal's filled...

*Amber

Hello Blog?

Well, I'm very new to "blogging".. I'm looking to make this more of an online poetry journal, so a lot of the things I post in the beginning might be a few weeks old or so. Give me some time and I'll start getting things up here that were written the day they were posted. :)

*Amber