Crazy is the medicine
as is what the body does
Blood let won't be of my own
Problems? Come find
my home, secluded precipice
Hold up your hand
still it of the trembles
worry at the cost of
all you own
Medicine, come fight me!
Split existence, split to wind.
I'm paper, aren't I?
The weaker of the two.
You're ink, aren't you?
You will do.
i wish to reveal a most precious thing
as Spring has begun
my dearest Daddy’s Birthday is done
he is not a man of celebrations
i want to disclose this personal’s manifest
as his blueprint, i am really beatific
i am very fortunate to be able to recollect
all and everything
to be your beloved daughter
is one most precious and delightful evidence
such a coziest feel to have you in my presence
you embody all that is calm and peaceful
no other impervious Daddy then you, my handsome sensitive
your BirthDay, dearest Daddy is never nebulous
the reputations you left us are all fabulous
you told me tales, they are in fact realities
you are one of a kind, your mind so sublime
you constantly cared and loved me, i am your prime
i love to tell superlatives about you
you deserve the most, dearest Daddy,
i am very proud of you, of your humor and your visions
your cartoons, drawings, and your fascinating paintings
you conjured magic in all your writings
C.C. was your weekly talkings
Charlie was your weekly walkings
in the world of Charlie Chan
i am very fond of you, my very talented Daddy
i know your world too, owned by you as a stage performer….
i remember everything, every detail hidden in my mind
i wish to reveal the most precious thing
last night i went to your place, i was wondering
you were not there, i started sobbing….
© Sylvia Frances Chan
21st March 2017
He died too young too soon, my greatest grief on that day.
The Lord gives, the Lord takes at His Time....
I think of what I've become
And then I wonder what you'd think of me
Yet you're the one who helped create this mess to begin with
Your verbal abuse was what broke me
I was already damaged goods
You smashed me to pieces
I put myself back together
Now I am just a shell
I have given up
But I have to choose
Whether to stay like this
Or to build myself back up
I would have just kept disappointing you
I would have never lived up to the potential you saw in me
It's a little difficult to please a narcissistic psychopath who lacks a conscience anyway.
Hello, my name is selfless, I only care about other people so don’t ask me how I’m doing I am only concerned with your well being.
Hello, my name is forgetful and I keep forgetting you name and pretty much everything else about you.
Hello, my name is confusion, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be here or not. Can you help me out??
Hello, I’m apologetic and I’m sorry for everything thing I’ve done, or have done, or things I never did I’m sorry.
Hello, most people call me silence, you can find me in many places but I find the most comfort in peoples discomfort of awkwardness.
Hi, I’m solitude, and I don’t want anything to do with you STAY AWAY FROM ME.
My name is anger and I hate everything and everyone for absolutely no reason, but if you want I can give you a million reasons to justify my actions.
My name is lonely, and I just want you to hold my hand so that maybe it can stop shaking so much.
People sometimes call me disappointing and I hold onto that like it’s the only part of this cliff I can hold onto to keep myself from falling.
Hello, I’m transparent and I’m thinner than the page of the book you used to read, so thin that you can see right through me, or maybe not even see me at all.
Hi, my name is dictionary, and I know how to describe your whole life in many words you may never understand.
My name is Swingline.
And I would make a name for myself to describe what I think I am or what I’m supposed to be. But the name I seek…
Isn’t in the dictionary yet.
Who are you?
What have you been called?
Who do you want to be?
There are so many things that define you
That make you who you are
Why let other tell you who you are?
Do the things they call you make you happy?
Are they true?
You may be thinking;
Who is she to be asking me this?
There's the fun part
I dont know
I myself am still defining who I am
Just like you
With every action
And every moments that passes by
We work on defining who we are
And who we want to be
So I will ask just one more time
And I beg you to think
Who are you?
she painted her nails bright red
winged a decent eyeliner
on her eyelids above her hazel
she wore the same jeans
because they were her favorite
& she didn't really ask for more
she owned some beautiful jewelry
yet only wore her little golden
on her right arm
on her middle finger
maybe because it slipped down
when she wore it on her other fingers
or maybe because it was a thing
to the world
letting everyone know
that she cared no more
I am warmhearted and icy cold,
with a pretty face that's getting old.
I am fragile yet tough as a man,
struggle thru life with no real plan.
I am petite and cuss like a trucker,
slightly naive, but I'm no sucker.
I am a sinner with a halo of gold,
an open book with secrets untold.
I am a hypocrite but always play fair,
a bleeding heart and I don't care.
I am a mother who acts like a child,
crazy, impatient and easily riled.
I am spontaneous and I am a bore,
forever forgiving, I still keep score.
I am unstable and wonderfully wise,
a sexual deviant in sweet disguise.
I am creative and self-destructive
naturally skilled and unproductive.
I am awkward and well refined,
lost, insightful and a little love-blind.
I am respected and I am addicted
shamed by burdens, self inflicted.
I am a perfectionist and I am a slob,
unbiased and shallow, an inept snob.
I am nocturnal, a creature of night,
blissfully ignorant, typically right.
I am cautious and I have no fear,
a loser and quitter, still I persevere.
I am brilliant and easily amused,
over-zealous and under-enthused.
I am impervious with wounds to heal,
a habitual liar just keepin' it real.
I am witty and weird and mean-
I am what I am.......100 Aileen.
You can sail the world in your plight,
but take a look around.
Here I am, standing at a crossroad.
My tresses blowing left, and right.
I can feel each cold breath slowly descending down my spine.
Along with it, words of righteousness.
A long and ever gazing tree, wise with the past and words of those who passed.
The trunk may be sturdy but the roots take hold in old soil.
The howling wind sends it shuddering, but my feet have learned to dance along to the tune.
Each cut, and each wound tell a story.
Maybe it's all too raw,
but I won't let any feet step all over their glory.
Like clay, I shape my psyche.
Molding my own version of reality.
Like holding on to a rocking boat,
each stalemate tries to topple me over.
As a spectator your eyes stare on,
but you are being fooled, and I can attest.
As I unfold, you can sense the plot change.
Don't look at me with unassuming eyes,
then play at holding on.
My existence is riddled with holes,
I chose to let them breathe.
Wishing only for the realization of my imperfections.
Not a mending of my shape.
I can sense you discard your own impurities,
and try to pick at mine.
A perfectionist's charade,
A naive acceptance.
We paint our intertwining stories,
and in turn forget the photographs of our reality.
A soulful mirage, all but false memories.
A warrior and a strong pillar of faith,
but your cause has left you blind.
I find you imprinting this impression on every moment you soak in.
My body is but a shell,
A porcelain covering of my own choosing.
On the inside the winds howl,
and I run free and wild.
Your upright silhouette may never sift into mine,
But don't blame my interchanging breeze.
As I have already drawn out the line.
this is what happens when you leave nothing to the imagination
i owe part of myself to Tim Curry
i owe part of myself to Ryan Ross
i owe part of myself to the unnamed graves
i owe part of myself to Leelah Alcorn
i owe part of myself to Zak Bagans
i owe part of myself to Matthew Quick
i owe part of myself to Shakespeare
i owe part of myself to everyone i've ever met
i owe part of myself to that kid that just walked past
i owe part of myself to anyone who's ever been remotely like me
letting me know that there's more to discover
this is what happens when you leave everything to the imagination
"shut up kid, you're only a sophomore"