dear smart-assed highschoolers who think you know what you're talking about,

I'm sorry, but you suck. you're sweet, you smile a lot, i know

you like me . . . but



then i remember you treating me like

a curiosity

"the pin girl"

ms. political

saying you don't have time "for new friends."



maybe i'm angry because i can see you being unstable and confused.



always perfectly funny.



then i see myself being unstable and confused.



i remember that i can't just sit back like some

[blank]-year-olds and say, "damn, those kids!"

i'm still a part of this generation. but i feel like

shit around you. yeah, i feel like shit.



xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

theo
CATEGORY -- FUCK YOU!!!, 2004

By: Theodora

To Whom It May Concern:

I have fallen into the acoustic guitar.



I'm a quirky grrl who does love, believe it or not.



I feel like I can impregnate the world with my fire tongue.

Other days, I'm more comfortable in the fetal position.



I want you to kiss me on the cheek so I can tell your story.



Do it. Now.



I am trying to heal my insides. It hurts.



Sincerely,

me

CATEGORY -- I AM ALONE AND NO ONE UNDERSTANDS MY PAIN, 2004

By: Theodora

Theadora

Hi, Sara,

There are different stages of my teenage poetry. The first stage, which included a few I sent last batch from 2001, could be summed up as the "I don't know who I am and no one understands me!" poems. From there, I morphed into "no one understands me because I am a radical hippie feminist lesbian and I deserve to do my Goddess rituals indoors. My oppressive Catholic parents are obviously crunching my freedom." From there, my person poetry turns in the nature of questioning the universe, as well as my own gender (I haven't gotten there yet, though, in these e-mails -- right now we're just on the first two stages.") I hope something in all this is useful for the site.

take care, theodora


yearning: poem after a bath



she cries on the bus today

lemon on her tongue

and the absence of your words in her pocket



"normally, I hate choral music. But the men up there were speaking to us, singing to us, not beating us up."

-Kathy, after seeing the Twin Cities Gay Men's Chorus



she can crank out lines

that mean nothing

but she wants you to find

something in the pieces

that define her



her soul on a silver platter

move in take care don't touch come close

careful, she's hurting/burning

don't hold her too tight

don

t let her go



"…those images of Black men touching eachother gently will stay with me forever."

-Kathy

CATEGORY -- "White Middle Class Feminist Hippie Oppression," or "More than Like" --2004

By: Theadora

Beethoven Watch Out: I Didn't Pay My Insurance

was a while
i knocked my head
getting awake
and now, i knock into
people instead
physical contact
invades personal space bubbles
maybe i would
do better with fiction
(although who's to say
this is true?)
quick step aside
i'm climbing your head

CATEGORY -- pointless rambling poems

By: Theodora

The Love Grams Poem

infatuation grams
hate bombs
clit notes
platonic love grams
happy international quirky-alone day
free love grams
gecko cards
whipped cream flower
it's no cherry
black roses. in blood.
it's only highschool, peoples
leik, omigod, i'm in love!
self-love power!
vibrator fairies
mass orgy letters
make lovegrams, not war
atomic puppy love
it comes with age gram
red rum

CATEGORY -- I WILL NEVER LOVE AGAIN -- 2005, Junior year, (official subcategory -- sssshhh, she thinks she has experience!)

By: Theodora

Life

Life
we're talking
like girls getting their arms sliced
off

CATEGORY -- OTHER -- 2005 -- Junior year -- another WTF, but I secretly love this one! :)

By: Theodora

UNTITLED

UNTITLED

we've talked about
asses and buttcheeks
going to first base/
i could corner you
in the gymnasium
(teatherball sucks)
those cheeks,
yup. you've got whithers like a horse.
and no, i'm not anorexic -- i'm just
building up strength
for the day we go
cruising on the bus.

CATEGORY -- OTHER -- 2005 -- Junior year -- this is really a WTF. I think it was written during a creative writing class, but I have no other memory of it.

By: Theodora

Untitled

Untitled

all I ask is that you take
me seriously.
Because I am capable of
thinking on my own.
And, like the rest of you,
I have a voice.
I might be able to tell
you something if you really listened.
Words are how we breathe.
So sometimes I might not be able to talk to you.
I might not be able to write sometimes because my
voice is only emerging.
I don't know who I am.
But could you please listen to the me that's being uncovered?

CATEGORY -- I AM ALONE AND NO ONE UNDERSTANDS MY PAIN, 2001 -- written in eighth grade. it was one of the first poems I ever wrote.

By: Theodora

UNTITLED

UNTITLED

bleeding when she told
me she didn't know what she was
yes/ and if I was open, she was
open -- from my nose, that is
in her car

CATEGORY -- more than like, 2004

By: Theodora

Holding Grass in Our Hands

Holding Grass in Our Hands

Having a pang attack for
Leaves of Grass is
only fun when
one is sitting in the
middle of what
turned Whitman
on.

I can find
him and
we'll try
to remember
lines but we don't do
well when the boys are
hunting water bugs
and carving trees

By: Theodora
CATEGORY -- Other, but definitely "White Middle Class Hippie Feminist Oppression", 2004