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Articles by Lolly Vieira
Why I dropped out of my accounting degree
Accounting classes tried to teach me that future value could and often did exceed all came out properly But the philosophy of it was what kept me up at night, the idea that the future is promised How can one be so sure that their money would do them more good when we cannot be certain our bodies even make it to the next month? only the ignorant can ignore that time is the most priceless variable, the one anomaly no equation could ever account for.
Painful Paradoxes
while black holes open up inside me as I consider how many families won't have moments like this not since the reign of ICE those balls of hail tearing apart generations they don't get to bake brownies despite not deserving it more than them simply because of the color of my skin I get to come home to my child I get to have a home I don't have to get deported I just get to bake brownies and sit with this despairing awareness of the depths of life's cruelty to make it all stop
To Don't
Sleeping is like an addiction to me. Mostly because there's never any dreams. which was the only goal for over half of mine. The power of getting to opt out, to say, "No thanks, no more, I've seen the good, the bad, the ugly, the curious (in a morbid sort of way), the ridiculous, the raw, the ruthless, and, of course, while I can see, the tragic beauty of it all, in my broken apart heart. While I lie there in nonexistence, the kind the conscious can never know.
Bits of Stardust
Imagination is the birthplace of joy yet it is also the start of pain. harmonics canceling out to zero. Who'd have thought so much creativity could be hidden within neutrality, that clarity is only chaos seen from far enough away? When you stare up into the clouds, tell me, what is it you see? and we are made of the same mundane magic, the kind that threads through wormholes and pulses through our own electric blood. becoming fully aware of the absurdity?
The 4 F's
I used to live my fear in freeze Face it with a front of fawn But I was just thinking today While sitting in the humid aftermath of rain Out on my back porch And realized that I had a kind of From the outside anyways No one could think to imagine The red hot terror dripping into me Burning me from fingertips to toes From the inside out How could they There's no way Anyone could ever know That I've been consumed with horror Every brittle bone in my body Bending just to not break
Raw Poetry
when I see poetry trying down the path to so much twirling about that we end up of the point somewhere it zips past my face like a fruit fly while the poem's ego sits in its own lap to the corner of its mouth some people use poems like chains seems to defeat the purpose of poetry I prefer to use my words one on the floor and hope that maybe, just maybe maybe it was all chance in just the right way scratch his head and go, "huh." maybe it's just
"What Are You?
Start writing..."What Are You?" 8x10 inch canvas This abstract self-portrait is a statement on my experience growing up Asian American. As a person of mixed nationalities, one of the most common questions strangers would ask me is, "What are you?" And while, of course, I understand they were wondering what race/nationality I am, as a mid-west born and raised American, I find the question off-putting and dehumanizing. What am I? I'm a human.
Limerence
about the way it can effect me. like a joy from within until you examine it how it makes me feel. how does it make are we in this together? it says this is what I want everything else be damned. How can a state of being until you become aware of it
I have a no lion policy..
it has no need for my defense when one questions its authority all I have to do is let it loose my tiger truth acts on its own of all that is false
hypocriSEE
Welcome to my writing page where I make sense of all the facets of myself. I'm an artist of many mediums and strive to know and do better every day.
Why do I write poetry?
so many rules to follow I love the way a poem can walk you to the edge of a cliff make you inhale every inch of scenery into the depths of a ravine all in a few short stanzas you can bend them without ever hearing the you can knead and work them until the warm breadth of your words Poetry gives me the freedom to be be anything I want Poetry is the way I think in with the external chaos and out with my word vomit Prose may be pretty and more understandable for most, but poetry allows me to...
roots
Welcome to my writing page where I make sense of all the facets of myself. I'm an artist of many mediums and strive to know and do better every day.
To: The monsters under my bed...
Welcome to my writing page where I make sense of all the facets of myself. I'm an artist of many mediums and strive to know and do better every day.
skEYE
Welcome to my writing page where I make sense of all the facets of myself. I'm an artist of many mediums and strive to know and do better every day.
Tapestry Threads
Welcome to my writing page where I make sense of all the facets of myself. I'm an artist of many mediums and strive to know and do better every day.
Hubris
have never been more televised. "We are winning the war on terror!" while being the terrorists themselves. Is it that they can't sense the irony or do they think we have the same IQ as them and can't see the truth? I'm not sure which one is worse. Has humanity always been this cruel? If so, are we even worth saving?
Entropic Love
Welcome to my writing page where I make sense of all the facets of myself. I'm an artist of many mediums and strive to know and do better every day.
Who? What? When? Where? Why?
though I try to simply I cannot help but wonder I wait for them to dissipate as I ask myself if I will be trying until Who is it that is seeing what I see? Who is it that is observing me? What is it that they think of me? What is it that they think of at all? When is it that I will return to this home? When is it, that which exists outside of time? Where is it that I will find my answers? Where is it, the place where all boundaries dissolve? Why is it that the journey become the illusion?
The Devil is in The Details
My crisp, blue hiking boots steadily carry me up the hill. A light mist and subtle darkness have descended upon the land. The vividly grey moon smiles down on every living thing in these enchanting woods. Blankets of dazzling stars cover me tightly, sending a warm, loving, fuzzy feeling down my spine. With a bit of a hop, I propel myself forward an extra-large step and crunch pine needles beneath my boots. Their breaking releases a pungent aroma in the air.
Overflow
like bubbles down the side of a glass like the very first moment a mother holds her child, the first moment like losing a pet, so you go out to search but as you make your way to the road you see them lying there motionless like the concept of infinity or zero something with which you cannot divide I used to panic whenever I would overflow I'd try desperately to push the soda foam back in sucking in through the straw this is the process this is being and that's how we melt down into one for...
Map to Motherhood
Welcome to my writing page where I make sense of all the facets of myself. I'm an artist of many mediums and strive to know and do better every day.
Dispatches from Fat-Burbia: It's Not You; It's Me
They say the best way to get over an old love to replace it with a NEW love. I had to find something I could come to love more than hot dogs. Although it was hard, I started dating poultry. We've been seeing each other rather hot and heavy since March. This relationship seems like it's going to last. Sometimes I cheat on poultry with fruit and vegetables, but I always come back to good poultry. Chicken and turkey should become a staple in any person's diet living with CHF.
Real Danger Areas After Breaking Up With a Gorgeous Girl
Maybe it was this routine of picking her up at the same times. Or maybe it was her always wanting you to take her to the same restaurant, cinema, mini-golf course, and on Sundays, she always wanted to go walking in the park. You never dreamed that you would secretly grow weary of being with who was possibly the sexiest, prettiest girl on earth. But you did.
How to Love Again..and Again
We've all been there. We've experienced a horrible end to a (seemingly) perfect relationship and felt like our lives as we knew them had ended. We were convinced the love we lost could never be replaced and we felt eternally jaded. We tried everything to keep them but our best was simply not good enough and now the person we picked out baby names with is gone forever. So what do you do? You mope around for a while like there's a huge dark rain cloud over your head- and sometimes there is.
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