I once asked my parents if I could join cadets. They asked me if I knew what cadets grew up to be. I never brought it up again.
I got into a fight with a friend about her ex. We haven't spoken in months. She still hasn't forgiven me...
Someone detuned the piano in my mind and now music sounds awful. I want to find where melody and harmony met and made a straight line coming back to me.
do not rush to post
a poem written in the
early hours of morning
following a night of
indulging in dope or
Irish whisky neat
or a poem written
cold sober--you are
too close to your precious
creation to view it objectively
let the poem simmer
in your creative juices,
giving it a rest as a baker
does a ball of dough
after kneading it
let a few days pass then
reread your poem; read it aloud;
record it, listen to the recording--
does it read the way it hears?
revise appropriately applying
the process above to the revision
before you post the revised piece
edit for typos and errors
of grammar or spelling
following this process
shows you respect your poem
and your potential readers
who will read and respond in kind
i was asking you before
to discontinue your supply of poetic awakening
the ink that you're always giving me
has expired and dried two years ago
and i can never write about now.
i can never write about "what ifs",
i can never poetically execute my dreams
because i am contaminated by
our "what could have beens."
babe, your expired ink tastes bitter & toxic
but i just cant seem to stop you.
i don't ever want to stop you
i dont want to step forward.
here i am again, haunted by your memories
leading me back to the past that i have learned to seek shelter in.
you were to glue that pieces my bones together
whenever these four walls are declaring that i'm falling apart.
you are an endless pool of ink
and an endless pad of paper,
you want me to continue writing
because you said my face was too pretty to explode.
how could i step away from that?
i wish that my muscles would be strong enough to lift me away from here.
i wish i could say that this isn't about you.
i am never gonna move on from you
because the day that i do,
the day i will stop being a poet.
By the time we met,
I had already kissed 3 boys,
And had my heart broken by one.
I had already given up on love.
I was 16.
When we started dating,
I had only known you for a month,
But you captivated me already.
For 144 weeks, I thought you were mine,
I figured it was for life.
You said it so many times and you’d never lie,
I had already forgiven you 36 times
By the time you started lying just to see what I’d believe.
The way you cradled me was uncompared to anything,
You convinced me everything else was too rough,
But I didn’t even feel like trying
I had already found true love, after all,
Even if it hurt me.
12 months in out of the 32 we spent together,
You had already broken me 76 times,
Those words still haunt my head,
My bed is empty,
You left me,
Already ready to forget me.
At 17 you said you had already found true love.
Well what the fuck?
Wasn’t I done looking for pity already?
Weren’t those things on my arm healed already?
Wasn’t my story over already? You’d heard it already
I shoved my fingers down my throat just to purge up a “sorry”
I never stopped talking and
You’d already asked me to hurry.
Wasn’t I over it already?
But you loved me, I already knew that.
You masked insults with recurring phrases
Thought up already so you were ready to make me sorry about what you said
It was a joke! You already told me not to take it seriously.
Why was I so sensitive?
Wasn’t I over it, already?
I don’t remember when things got bad,
Or ever having the ability to recognize that
Because with you I’d swallowed enough pride to drown myself
From the inside out,
But you were always so forgiving.
I found myself lost,
Apologizing for feelings
You swore I made up but I could not create if I tried.
You said you loved me.
But your tides pulled me by the ankles.
I’d taken swimming lessons already,
But they don’t teach you how to swim when you fall in love with drowning.
So I tried,
To stay afloat in rough waters
I’d already drowned in, over and over again,
I’d tread for show so you could never see,
But I’m drowning again,
Already? You moved on,
In 19 days, for 3 years that are already gone.
Already, you filled the void we created ourselves,
With white noise because how the hell
Could you make the choice
To replace me for good already?
In the years you spent convincing me to stay afloat,
You made sure I knew I needed you to do so.
I can’t bring myself to throw out your old clothes,
The ones that have piled up 3 feet
In 19 days
I sat and counted the ways you made me want to die on my hands,
And I tried to justify that by balancing it with the times you made me feel alive,
But I stopped because 6 months in out of 32,
I’d already used all 10 fingers.
Tell me if you do the same for her.
Already, you are happy
And smiling again
You float above waters
I’m drowning in
But man, am I happy
You’re ready to begin again.
With someone else
As I struggle to heal myself,
Losing color as I stop myself from begging for your help
You’d throw me a line
If you got praise for it,
Or pull me in just to have me in your reach again.
I know I need to do it already,
Everyone on shore assures me
I deserve more.
But I’m still short of breath.
Look at you though,
Already free and happy.
You are shaping waves, ruthless,
Crashing tides to keep your name
The one I remember when I say in vain
I’d already found true love at 16
If open books suddenly close,
So the fears I've written can never escape
And the creases in my mind where you marked your place
Once again become whole,
I'll fold what remains
And carry it in my pocket;
I've never met someone who could turn a page so lovingly
Yes, the Glass Slipper fits.
But I will not go with you.
You stand shocked in your magnificent Uniform,
Black shoes and Spurs sparkling
Sword shining in its scabbard,
Proud blue eyes wide,
Handsome face stunned
Prince Henry Alexander
Your father gave a ball to find a queen,
but you found me instead.
We will marry
BUT you will be the one transformed, not me
You rode to my house on your beautiful Horse,
descending from your castle,
to bring your future queen back to your life
of Privilege and Royalty.
No. I will bring you into my world of
menial work and sacrifice and exhaustion.
My fairy Godfather is here to help transform you.
You came with a glass shoe for my foot.
But now YOUR polished shoes and silk socks,
footwear of a Prince,
are coming OFF your privileged feet.
You are stunned and horrified
You resist and argue
You refuse and try to leave
Your pride and anger rise
But there is no escaping your destiny.
You are now the barefoot Prince among the cinders
Barefoot in your Dazzling Court Uniform
Would you ever dance barefoot in your elegant Palace
Naked soles instead of smartly clicking shoes?
Now we take your Royal Sword
You will not be fighting battles anymore
Your Medals and White Gloves are pulled off
You shudder as you surrender pieces of your
Royal self to our hands.
Here are the rough clothes of a peasant farmer
made of rough burlap.
What are these? You gasp
Strip off your magnificent Imperial Uniform.
Scarlet Tunic and pressed striped blue Trousers
Royal Sash and Epaulettes
that belong to your former Princely life
Step into your new uniform of labor and poverty.
You struggle with outrage and frustration
but a surge of courage gives way
as my Fairy Godfather strips you of your inherited
Nobility and Privilege
Send a message to the King and Queen
You are renouncing your Royal Throne
Your former life and former future
All that you once were
and all that you were born to be.
You are no longer Prince Henry Alexander
Soon to be King Henry Alexander IV...
What name is that for a peasant?
You are now Hank
That is all. Just Hank.
Renounce your Princely Education
your formal training
your upper class speech and manner.
We will help you strip yourself
of your High Position.
Do not worry.
Your Aristocratic identity is already dead.
We will sell your splendid Sword.
We will trade your former sparkling black shoes
for a pig
Exchange your former Brilliant Uniform
for a goat
Your former ring with the Royal Insignia
for grain and seeds
Trade in your former Spurs and black silk socks with
the monogram of your former name for a plow.
Your head of wonderful Golden hair,
the hair of a Prince on a Throne,
the hair of Warrior in Battle,
hair for a Palace, hair for a Ball.
I remember the palace lights
shining on your beautiful Golden hair....
All that glorious hair
must be shaved off.
Your handsome face already in shock.
Your mouth drops open.
Your Golden hair will be sold
to make a wig for a wealthy bald man.
Let him wear the Princely hair with pride.
YOUR pride and dignity are shriveling and
vanishing like raindrops on a hot day
You will work long hours in the fields
You will sow and reap, tend the animals,
Chop trees, you will be a beast of burden,
We have no Ox.
We will attach the plow to your Princely shoulders.
You will have no need of thick, full golden hair.
Your Princely hands and feet are smooth, clean, white
protected by shoes, boots, spurs, gloves.
But soon the earth and rain and wind
will enter and crack them.
Your beautiful, beloved Horse,
Groomed in the Royal Stables,
waiting outside the house
is no longer yours.
Yes, we will sell him as well.
Together we will live a life of drudgery.
We will have children who will never know
their Royal lineage.
You have descended to my level
and here you will remain...
I will name our new pig Prince
to remind you, as a gentle joke for summer nights...