Yes, think back and put yourself in your mother shoes.
Yes, of both parents, she's the best advocate.
And the main one to say, of all the things I do for you.
And this, is how you treat me?
Just wait, until you have your own
Yes, think back.
Truly think back about ALL the things your mom has done for you.
When you cry?
Who the comforter of calm expression.
When you scrape your knee?
Who's the nurse trying to heal you.
Truly, when it comes to their child there's nothing our mom won't do.
They deserving of all the love.
They deserving of so much more.
To those that have had bad experiences with their mother.
Remind yourself that within your heart you still love them.
There's a highly good chance they taught you read more.
They truly support the kids more.
Dad, brags a little too.
But not the way mothers do.
Who has photos to embarrass you as a child?
Quickly to pull them out and show them around.
Yes, it's mom.
We hear ministers preach about Jesus.
And as much as he has the quality of God.
He also has the personality of his mother Mary.
Yes, think back.
Of the sweet and nice lady that loves to bring up marriage
Welcome other children's with an opening HEART.
Yes, it's mom.
The first lady we will ever love.
What is an appropriate price for a pair of eyes? It depends on whose they are. The New Jersey man who was Albert Einstein's opthamologist removed Einstein's eyes during the autopsy done on the famous scientist in 1955. He has stored them in a safety deposit box ever since and recently announced that they are for sale. He says he believes the eyes could bring $5 million.
- Marketing: Zikmund/d'Amico, April '95
Albert, you who stood modestly
On the shoulder of a giant and saw
Worlds beyond Sir Issac's vanishing point,
we want your eyes!
Eyes that read the Braille of a scarified universe
with relative ease, you, Herr Professor, are
the seeing eye companion for the dim 20th Century.
Atomic pacifist, what patent
is there for your dual vision?
What fair price for your inner eyewitness
Testimony that God is not a gambling man
And the curvature of our Space-Time continuum
is a grave matter indeed?
Your eyes are going to the block soon.
I hope the Smithsonian waves the winning paddle
So you may, at long last, rest your weary eyes
Near the glass jar that contains your Cyclops brain.
We went to a reading
You sat leaned back
With your arms crossed
sighing at every read line
aren't they just so pathetic
The person reading begins to cry
reading his own words
I press forward
and rest my elbows on my knees
and my chin on my hands
I can still hear you
in my peripheral audition
rubbing your eyes
with your thumb and index
with that smile
making a show
of your disappointment
You were once in his shoes
reading your own work
self-conscious and vulnerable
full of doubt
Then someone called you "good"
and now you're this
The walking image of what it
means to be a Poet
and aren't you just so damn poetic
I would never be able to find the correct words
to write about you
so I guess I'll just play with them
and hope you can see what I'm doing.
Love never crossed my mind
at least never the kind I've discovered with you
yet every new day you bring something new to the table
to surprise me with something that is truly real.
Our stories will be intertwined
in the most wonderful book
we'll each write chapters and verses
and see what we've accomplished in the end.
Very rarely would I ever doubt you
even if the skies in my mind turned grey
and I lost all sense of myself
I would still see you as beautiful.
Each and every thought of you
brings a tear to my eye
and yet you still make my heart leap with joy
when I wake up to see your face.
You're like my favorite book
full of surprises, twists and turns,
and unforgettable memories
which I hope I can share with you.
Our very bodies work together in a beautiful melody
playing off each other in perfect sequence and harmony
I could explore you for days, months, years
a very lifetime of knowing you so fully.
Underneath the stars,
your eyes still shine the brightest
I wonder what sort of things make them seem to dance like that
I'd sure love to take a lifetime to find out.
Not really sure where this came from. Hint: read the first letter of each stanza down from first to last, it spells something. Cheesy? Probably.
Bookmarks won't stop me
from making donkey
ears on every page
of the book
and I will keep highlighting
my favorite parts
but without a lineal
so I can misinterprete it later
and mess the whole thing up
I will read the introduction seven times
when I get tired
I just stumble through the pages
I hate the book
It doesn't match the others in my bookcase
It's too worn out, but so am I
I will keep you in my bag forever.
This poem has been a long time in the making and I still feel that it's too soon to write. I feel like you don't deserve so much of my time and my thoughts. But something deep inside of me knows that this is for me and not you. And I like me more than I hate you, so I'll be uncomfortable and discuss you in the effort of bringing peace to me.
How can someone as shit as you ruin my life? So weak and so young. Owner of nothing but ruler of all.
It hurts my pride so bad to even acknowledge that a person as minuscule as you could rearrange my everything. How I could have been so inferior to the likes of...
It makes me so mad to admit that I am afraid of you. Words that my lips will never utter, a thought that my mind 'force closes' every time, the letters that my pen refuses to form.
I am afraid of you.
So hard to accept that you are stronger than me
I've never known anything so evil
I've never known anything more terrifying than the feeling I feel when confronted by you. Just your presence. Stand alone. Is enough to make me want to run away. To a world safe from you. So that's what I do.
I run and I run and now I'm somewhere foreign. Depriving myself of the things I love to protect myself from you.
When you punched our sister in the mouth and I watched her rip her lip off of her teeth. I died inside.
Literally slipping in her own blood trying to wrestle you off.
Why did you do that?
Where did you learn that?
How did I not know you were capable of that?
How are you capable of that?
Someone so close to me. Became a monster. Slowly, yeah. But still I wasn't ready for that. Wasnt expecting that. Never saw that coming.
It felt like it was all a dream. Still hoping today that maybe it was.
And your lack of remorse keeps my hate for you fiery.
"CALL THE POLICE, BITCH. AND WHEN I GET OUT OF JAIL IMMA BEAT YO ASS AGAIN!" chills tears (This is a part of the process, Domonique. Let it happen. Swallow the lump in your throat. Keep writing)
If I close my eyes I can hear you so clear. I'm there again. Scared. Shaking. Knife in my hand. Knowing deep down I wasn't bold enough to kill you.
And you knew it too.
When she was bleeding everywhere and I stood there too shocked to move. And you pushed me. And mom screamed. And Ravyn cried.
Why would you do that?
I never thought.
I watched my sister try and recover while I just got worse.
To watch her cry every day from excruciating pain as I fed her through a cracked jaw.
It stung so bad that she would refuse to eat.
It stung so bad. And as for Me and My soul. Stung the fuck up.
I cried all the time. To see someone you love plagued with a hurt body and hurt pride is too much for the strongest of us. Wishing I could halve the pain: when we were little girls we halved everything.
But I couldn't.
Never felt so helpless, so useless.
Sleeping in a tiny 2bedroom apartment, living out of boxes. Just wanting my sister to be okay.
Missing my mama. From living with her all my life to not even seeing her everyday.
It was so hard.
And meanwhile I had to go to school, harboring all of this pain.
Never discussing the imminent details.
Rare for a person as vocal as me.
Trying hard to never think of it.
My grades suffered bad, but not as bad as me.
You can imagine how little an equation or a metaphor meant. Absolutely nothing. Because life had just taught me something that academia wouldn't even believe.
This. This is so hard for me to relive.
So I'll stop here. I have to stop here. And when I'm ready. I'll come back and finish.
But this is big. Really really big. Because I promised to never 'go there'. But here I am. And maybe I'll regret it later. And I'll probably never be mentally prepared to read it again.
It's really no fun dealing with repressed memories.
My Dearest Love,
I woke up today with yet another text on my phone from you. This one contained words I didn't want to hear.
"Not again, PLEASE not again." I say to myself as I prepare to hear the words I dread the most.
I read the words you wrote and my greatest fear was brought to life.
You didn't care about everything we shared.
You didn't care about the laughs we had.
You didn't care about the times we spent crying in each others arms.
You didn't care about how much I sacrificed for you.
You didn't care about making a fool of me.
You didn't care about how I shared my heart with you.
You didn't care about me, and now I know that.
So my dear, you have become one of the past.
Do I hate you? No.
Do I love you? Sometimes.
But a stream doesn't flow "sometimes".
And a river, through the rapids, carries through.
Your Favorite Play Thing,
The Autumn missal has arrived,
A fall reminder of the coming cold,
Strange slanting light to shift the maple
Greens to furious red and gold.
High above the myriad travelers chant adieu,
As on their sky-road paths they sing,
A chorus glorious to southern waters blue
Where winter marshes serve a warm retreat.
A liturgy of highest order drives the world
Beyond the ken of time-old cycles round;
Hibernal instinct now in feral life unfurls:
Flogs squirrels outward on their oak-corn bounds,
Plushes wealth of wolves' warm winter fur,
Hardens bone and antler, deepens feathered down,
Adds harvest fat to beast and fish and fowl,
Drives sap below old Frost's attempt to burrow down.
Unspoken paen unheard by almost all,
A careless shivering passerby may dread
This ritual changing of the Fall,
But never mind, the liturgy is read,
And Nature safely tucks herself into her wintery bed.
akin to forgetting the social security password
the ideas are locked away from themselves
the couples making out in the corner
weren't aiding me in this
as two hearts were broken
just outside the window
leaving a feminine dress damp from tears
and masculine jeans leaving the scene.
the pen is getting colder
and the page naked with a word
at the head.
pages were flipped, lines were read
but none were the fitting key for this lock
and after an hour of staring,
flipping pages and reading lines,
i left the table,
giving up, perplexed
and the page read,
what is love?
ive been up all night
playing this over in my head.
i had a good day.
i hadn't thought about you once.
but then i looked up.
you turned the corner,
i turned red.
the hair on my body stood up.
i wanted to scream
or punch you right in the jaw.
i watched you notice me.
the corner of your mouth crept up,
you looked me up and down.
you were taunting me.
i think you laughed a little.
i swear i could read your mind in that moment.
"ha, i broke you.
i can see it all over your face."
he looked at me
as if i were in a million tiny pieces
or my skin was melting
making a mess on this floor
right underneath the both of us.
and you were gone
before i even knew how i felt about it.
but that's how it always went, anyways.