Witness all the little things in life I can't seem to find..
I asked for your story because I wanted to feel your pain
So I found you, there in your post apocalyptic paradise
As you wrote the words to me slowly shedding light on the nature of your place
Lost between the words whispered from the lips of your so called dream..
Your puzzle to me summed up in the sentence
I'm not her
Its too late to ask you out with a stegosaurus card
My mom wont make you spaghetti
I don't have a soccer team you can guest play on, I cant meet you at a picnic
Compared to what you had I'm a shadow
And thats all you'll ever let me be
And I thought I could hear it, the nature of your inability to care for me...
but now it sits on my shoulder
Sometimes shifting its talons
I cry because you don't see me
And all the things I have done for you seem like nothing when I look at them through your eyes
But they were everything to me
each little offering offering of affection given to make you smile
every endeavor to make you happy
turned back and given to me as thorns
but you don't care
you are very sorry you say, but you just don't care
and the worst part is I understand now..
I can see how she's better in every way
except for that she left you all alone
So I can't fix you, I can't patch up the pieces she tore out on her way out the door
I can talk to you, I can be there, but
I can't make you see her any other way
I'm just nothing to you.. after all this time
You'll never talk about me like I'm a goddess.. you'll never look at me that way
and it hurts
There were some things young Hildegard
Believed deep down in her heart,
And it affected how
She treated all her friends.
"If you're not a part of my parade,
You're just another useless part
That will get tossed out with all the
Other odds and ends.
She told Rolph Johnson
To go on home..
He simply did not suit her taste.
And little Mary Fennel
To have a life,
But Hildegard had one
She had no plans to waste.
"I'm not sorry," she told them all.
"Because it's you. It isn't me!
If I let you hang around,
Someone important may just see.
And I will not allow that.
Where I am you cannot go.
I'm twice as good as you are.
And I know you know I know!"
She told her Mom one late summer day
She preferred to do things her own way.
She did not need her parent's care.
She had no need to worry there.
"I'm smart. I'm strong.
I'm quick. I'm wise.
And I think I've
Outgrown you guys.
You just don't understand.
I'm a some one
You can never be!"
"Even my Teacher
Thinks I'm bright.
And I must admit.
My Teacher's right."
And she's usually
Sort of clueless, so
It's kind of good she
Seems to know."
Her friends, they vanished,
One by one.
They were in the way,
And they weren't much fun.
They did not understand
Was twice the girl
They could be.
Once, or twice,
T'was true, they heard:
"Supercilious is a silly word."
And Hildegard would turn away,
Without another word
She had so very
Much to do.
She'd planned her life.
T'was true, so true.
It was a life she would not be denied,
A future she'd not toss aside.
She'd be incisive and demure.
They'd never undervalue her.
And to this day,
She's made her case.
No arroganace upon her face.
She's a belle of substance, and rightly so,
Trapped in a very lonely place.
Copyright © 2013 Richard D. Remler
"I call everyone 'Darling' because I
can't remember their names."
~Zsa Zsa Gabor
Lovable and supportive
Caring, willing, alarming
Companion and inspiration, important and gentle
Amazing, fulfilling, amusing
Dauntless and protective
You are a child of the Universe,
bright as the stars in the sky,
alive as the flowers on a meadow,
tall as a tree in a forest,
changing as the waves,
radiant as the sun,
no lesser than ground and the rocks,
the clouds or the snow.
You are a child of the Universe,
holding the landscape along your frame,
the ocean as your eyes; revolting and fierce,
the meadow blooming as your hair,
tree branches as your arms,
and your roots are your mom and dad.
Do you know that years; two to be exact
passed by, with shame and pain, but I was in act?
Did you see that I've felt so small beside them all,
and the ground was all I've found?
That I've met the other side of me,
the one I never knew I had,
the one I started to trust, believe, and put my joy to?
I forgot how to smile,
Or how to see the genuine beauty around,
I spoke my heart to you,
with twisted letters hoping you'd sink to,
and understand it, at least the half of it,
but you blew my hope away, and couldn't even hear what I said
You never listened, and I mentioned that out,
but you said otherwise,
you said you know it all
I'm not the little girl I used to be,
no short hair anymore, no more that pink floral dress,
I thought you knew that, or at least I left you to guess,
You never saw the tears,
you couldn't see them because I never let you be a part of me, of the new me
I hated what I've become,
but I assure you that now I'm all I ever wanted to be,
When I said I want to put make up on,
you said no darling you're too young,
but thirteen was so young,
is sixteen between that too?
When I say, I'm growing up,
Can you see that?
Can you hear my words now?
Don't look at me as the one with short hair,
You can call me names,
but dear mom, I plea, not to put pain again
I only need your comprehension,
Ask a mother, is sixteen too far?
Look me in the eyes, and tell me the truth,
that you only miss your little baby girl,
and can't let me move.
Why are you crying? You demand, hatred spurting from your eyeballs
stop being so ridiculous
You know what?
Im crying because every damn drop of saltwater is every word I cannot say
I sob when I finally get to my room,
curled up on the bathroom floor because leaking out of my eyeballs is every goddamn sentence I held inside while we were fighting-
All I keep iron lipped locked up lest I destroy everything with the pure gas fire explosions of all these secrets bouncing around the inside of my concrete skin.
And just for a moment,
I don't want to apologize to anyone about
what chemical reactions are firing off in my twisted brain.
I don't want to "work things out" or "talk it through"
or yell or scream or vent to people because no one knows what to say or do except hugging
but I'm all alone in this dark room, dehydrating myself and curling into a ball small enough to fit in your black Chanel purse,
And I don't want you to wrap your stiff arms around me.
That's when I don't want anything more than just to collapse,
to slide into pieces and fold them all on top of each other until I can absorb into something simpler,
something that doesn't have heavy feet sentencing her to a lifetime of traveling these warped roads-
or maybe someone who can deal with the world without turning all of it into a poem?
Some beautiful, skinny girl who doesn't have to fake forgiveness for rides to practice and isn't forced to worry about crossing lines and homework or turn signals or disappointing adults and landing standing tucks and being sharp at football games or homecoming dates and not pissing off my stupid "friends"-
Along with all the other everyday irrelevance that won't mean anything in 25 years.
What do I even care, anyway?
Does anyone actually care?
Isn't it all just bullshit?
But as my phone rings and rings unanswered and my doorbell stays silent
I must come to the conclusion that I am just another human being having the same damn emotions as everyone else and that, in fact,
My friends don't want to hear once again about that fight my mom and I have been waging on and off for about 3 years and how it literally drains my will to live and worms holes in my mental health.
I must not be that girl who pities herself-
the one who lets her watery-gray sadness spill over the sides and splash into other people's laps, bringing down lighthearted conversations on the quad about homecoming dresses
For God's sake, Gabrielle
keep your shit to yourself.
Splash your face with water, spray a little febreze, fetch your plastic bags and fake smiles.
No one likes a bad smell.
I used to tell my mom
when the wolves came calling out back
but really I was shy.
was ashamed to admit
all I wanted was to be one of them
to slip into their paw prints
feel the dewy night kissing my ears
to lift my face to the wolf gods,
their bodies reflecting my dark eyes
I'd scrabble through the stale snow,
run until my lungs were scorched
I'd follow until they let me in
to touch them
lick their cheeks,
winding into their memories
with a slightly steaming spool slowly spinning,
ready to gobble them up
and replace my own
I'd yap and howl the way they do
Leap; spine arched,
into their midst
and match their moon choked tones
I'd want to be a mystery
Have those feeble humans claim they know everything
but really, they’d never even scratch the surface
of the wolf who gleams like ivory
of the wolf who streaks like fiery song
pulsing through the snow
I'd want to be the invisible; you know, that thing that’s watching you
bending through the slip of trees
the thing your eyes strain to find
the thing you wait all night to see
I want to have them look at me,
the ones who think they found me first,
I want the poets
to look into my face and say
how beautiful, those eyes
how brave or fierce or wise
and I would grin my wolfish grin
bare my snarling teeth on cue
ignore their stupid human stupor
knowing what they never would
that being a wolf is better than sitting alone
to lure me with their round raw voices
their silver heart shaped faces
their unforgiving bodies tensing
hammered paws sailing
like white frost oceans
the kings and queens
searching for castles
among the rabble
It's funny, those mirror images. Small bracelets of macaroni-turned jewels,
Costly and pointless. Plastic race cars that mom and dad bought me
Zooming around and breaking vases that once
Held cigarette ash. Flowers wrote an essay on lung cancer,
A peer who, on a high night, was put into the vase.
Flora lungs are surreal.
Imagine a flower the shape of me: my blue hair and eyes the petals and bud,
My body a stem and lungs are the leaves,
Ripped out of my sternum and strewn into the antigravity that surrounds me.
A mirror image in another world,
But somehow not the same. Like nuns and whores both
Screaming to God as their tits are groped and abused.
Collisions with the coffee table tip the coughing flower and let sailors tug on the ropes,
Sailing on the sea of liquid ash and sing "yo-no yo-ho" all the way to the white carpet.
A memorial. To the woman who was saved hereby flashing lights and muffled sirens,
The drugs were too heavy.
And then we sit playing scrabble and watching the news. Oh that poor girl.
It doesn't matter though. It is far enough away to only think of palindromes to click in the
Plastic squares, a perfect fit for a triple word score.
But the score doesn't matter. It is what the word represents.
Reviver: one who brings back.
A necromancer? The zombified critters under the stairs because you felt bad about killing them.
They ate your food, but you conducted a mass murder with that sweet poison that crystallizes
Their blood. Their parallel selves are still alive aren't they? The realms are separated by a thread,
Nothing more, so why must they be dead?
Why must they be characters in a movie? Everything is a lie, even the
Letters laid on the game board.
The words we speak is a made up language, the god most believe in
Is a figment of imagination. And so is mine. They are just creatures
Written in a book by drunken sailors, man himself,
Or warped versions of a goddess created by hags, high of of the leaves
Vining in their flowerbeds. Clouds came down because of the warm brandy and
Smoke from their pipes, polluted and dirty.
Fog does not belong here, this Christmas, but at least it will mask the brick wall that
Everyone seems to crash into.
It is a theory of course; people with glass skulls and hollow brains won't live through it,
But it is worth a shot. No one knows whether you will be crushed, or the wall.
On the other side, the other half of the world, the mirrored side,
Exactly the same as the one behind. Nothing new, but everything to see. You haven't looked until
You've seen the opposite of yourself.
I smell the liquor
On his breath
And see the confused anger
In his eyes.
I hear him yell at my mom
And I hear him hit her.
I run and hide under my bed.
I start crying.
I should be brave enough to go out there
And save mommy.
I hear his stumbling footsteps
Get closer and closer.
"don't you dare touch him!"
I hear with a smack.
Then my mom slowly slides to the floor.
My door opens.
I see his feet.
He starts laughing and his hand snakes
Under my bed and grabs my neck.
He scoops me up and lets me sit
On my old creaky bed.
He covers my eyes and grabs
And he picks me up
And for a minute I'm weightless,
Flying through the air
I slump against the wall.
I feel his fist. Again and again.
"baby josh? Baby Josh it's okay honey
It's just a dream"...
I am holding onto auntie kk's shirt tight.
I bury my face into her warm neck an she hugs me.
She kisses my head.
"I know honey. He's gone. He's gone."
They wonder what's wrong with me
I always say nothing
They can't control me
Or my life
I'm done with them
He has been gone 15 years
Shows up like nothing happened
Wants to control me
Tell me to leave her
Because she has a baby
Sorry I'm not not like him
I will never abandon her
I hate you
Stay out of my life
Stop with the self pity bullshit
Nobody gives a fuck
Your a bitch to everybody
And you wonder
why your losing you kids
Why they are turning against you
Because you a pill popping bitch
I was a kid
You stole money
from a kid
Well I'm not your kid
Tina is my mom
Hg is my dad
I have a family
But you and Jason
You wonder what's wrong
Well here you go
But you'll do like always
Just take some pills
And pass out in your bed
So you know what
Fuck you both
Your not my family
I hate you both
My family is
And her baby
That's my family
So you can
Get the hell out my life
Before I make you