Today I made a sad attempt to die
yet I had no rope
To make my thirteen loops
like an old man showed me to do
I thought about where I could find enough
to hold my body above the ground
Where my feet just barely touch
my hands limp beside thick thighs
Failing at my attempt at life
there seems no better time
When I have no hope
this is costly and for naught
I've nothing to offer here
and I have no want to
No being pulled apart and shoved beneath the rug
yet I lack motivation and drive
Even in this
so no progress will ever be made
I made a sad attempt to change my life today
Why regret something?
You should have done.
Life is about choice made rightly.
And not all will be fun.
To the school drop out.
Some reasons makes sense.
But to just do it.
Cause you was tested to succeed.
You failed yourself by not learning anything.
To the parent that abandon ship.
Because the pressure of being one required help.
Many have probably thought it.
But many more have decides against it.
Why regret things you should have done?
We face crisis and conflicts daily.
And there's always a solution to the deal
If we only believe.
The toughest of us all.
Are those that refuses to fall
When I was little I didn't understand why it rained.
I thought clouds got sad and cried.
I always wondered what made them sad.
Maybe it was because the sun got more attention.
Or maybe because everyone liked the sun more.
Once you think about it,
we're the clouds.
Hiding inside of us are raging storms.
Every tear is another raindrop.
We're the ones with less attention.
The one's darker than others.
Holding the secrets only we know.
Liked less than others.
We're the ones no one understands.
Eleven Weeks. Is that all it took?
To take us from strangers, to
lovers, to strangers again? I knew
you for eleven weeks yet it felt
like a life time of memories.
Eleven Weeks. Is that all it took?
For me to break every rule of
love for you? To let down my guard
and make you the exception?
Only Eleven Weeks. For you to
become the most important person
in the world to me. For me to become
so co-dependent on you that the
thought of you not being near made me ill.
Eleven Weeks to go from a strong, independent woman to a love sick fool.
Eleven Weeks to sell my soul and give you everything you wanted from me.
Eleven Weeks to lose who I was because I thought you were so great.
Eleven Weeks to rethink my previous notions about love and affection.
Eleven Weeks to become the loneliest I've ever been.
It's not a lot of time and the simple fact that
Eleven
Measly
Weeks
Can change who I am at the core of my being is not okay with me.
Twenty one years being who I was.
Eleven Weeks to tear it all apart.
Like rosemary twigs, and lavender leaves,
The loss that tore my heart open today,
Chews at my body and mind.
In my stomach I feel an aching from the emptiness therein.
Excitement is low, and I can’t hear the beating of my heart.
That organ seems so quiet and careful,
That I wonder if it’s my heart keeping me alive
Or just some force of the universe or my will.
At times my mind seems like rice paper,
An empty sheet of white with no words written on to tell a story.
At others, my thoughts drift backwards in time,
Wishing that all the moments before would still be alive for later.
I always thought mouths were for kissing, smiling, and laughing.
Isn’t that a beautiful fiction?
But it is not a hundred miles close to the truth.
Yes, mouths do kiss, and smile, and evoke laughter,
But the movements of the lips are also quick,
Like the strike of a snake.
These mouths spread talk and venomous gossip,
One to another,
Like an apocalyptic plague that brings to all fever and vomiting.
Wouldn't the world be as perfect as an ivory-bell-flower?
If there was no heart break, gossip, or endings.
Here I sit now,
Sitting on my knees with my hands resting on my legs,
And my back arched forward,
Like a monk in meditation.
The rosemary and lavender is growing all over me,
Transforming my body into a scented orb of green.
Once there was a leader named Hill
who thought certain people were ill.
He spoke against them,
deemed them a problem.
But in the end, it was Hill that was ill.
*This limerick poem is about former Boy Scout leader Chris Hill, who stepped down from his Collin County (TX) leadership position, in the wake of the Scouts' vote to accept gays into the organization.
She said, "You make me feel like I'm in the wrong skin."
And as he sat there in contemplation of this newest revelation
She told him about Thursday
And how he'd kissed her that way
And how it made her feel whole
As if they were one being meant to be
Joined at the mouth,
But had snapped apart and were together
Again
She told him about the way her heart
Raced with anxiety
And her fingers shook every day
But when he kissed her everything went numb
And her brain thought slowly
And the world kept turning
And she wasn't afraid it would stop anymore
Finally, she told him about the skin
She told him that being away from him
Made her snap back to reality
But she had finally tasted happiness
And her old reality felt all wrong
She felt all wrong without him
She asked him if he loved her
She couldn't bear to leave him
He didn't hear a word
"But your skin is so beautiful."
And he leaned in and kissed her.
It's not me, it's you
these words they haunt beds
but I can sleep at night.
Rather be cold, covered, and neglected
than hot, naked, and rejected.
Yeah you're winning cause you have feelings
but nothing is ever what it seems.
Crying and purging at the thought of my body
but I won't let you see me because I'm shaking.
You're so far away from my tree that I appear
to be still but my leaves are trembling.
I never asked for thunder and rain,
you were supposed to bury the pain.
Instead I watched as you endlessly shoveled to find
the root, so the the thorn in your heart can be extracted.
But I won't let you get soil deep
forever bound
chained and held in my hand
curled up defeated
a snail in a shell.
Sicker everyday.... all because I didn't wish you well.
Shame
fingers point
and they blame
you.
Libra weigh the scales
I'm tired of the lower hand
I want you so bad it's stupid
It's stupid that I want bad news
Yearning centuries now for something new.
I want you so bad it's stupid
it's stupid that I want you so bad
so bad, my want is bad,
but I'm stupid for you.
The Victim and The Villain
interchanging between the two
chemistry ignited in red
but now we're entering the blues
The positions they change as frequent
as lies that transform into truth.
The Victtim and The Villain
they live inside of us;
and they live inside of you.
Sudden decent
dents paint scent
into my mind.
What is this "art"?
Something stupid and contrived
derived from work-for-free
always-be-the-victim me.
I sit here with you,
towering over me like a mammoth:
ancient and urgent
itchy and crawling.
You're all I have left
and I feel sorry
for making you into garbage.
I thought by now I'd make less trash
I thought by now I'd be less trash.
At her desk, paper and pencil forsaken
She sought to create as she contemplated
But the feelings were mixed and shaken
By the quakes of over-complication
Energetically bound, her fingers stroked
As new words would emerge from her mind
And the keys were played like musical notes
Hinting at a thought somewhere betwixt the lines
So she's standing on the edge
Of a book that she's read
At least a thousand times
And the moon disappears
As the storm draws near
But she knows it's alright
Her eyes were closed as she absorbed
The entanglement of perceptions
Owned by the world so wildly perturbed
And dreamed despite delusional deceptions
They had spread throughout her head
As a gas might fill any kind of chamber
With poisonous conundrums that fed
Off the ink that runs on and off the paper
Now she's standing on a cliff
Scribing ancient glyphs
On a computer monitor
Then she thinks of just herself
For once, not anyone else
And comes to find her alcazar
Inside are hooded, masked silhouettes
At a ritual to create disharmony
Heads low, palms up they whisper a hex
Hoping to destroy her sovereingty
As the boiling rage begins to rise
She walks slow as her figure transforms
Walking on all four, she multiplies in size
And let's out a lioness' fearless roar
The wizards hit the walls
But the shadows stand tall
Until a beam of light emerged
From her mouth came wisdom
And the shadows fell victim
To her willpower determined to purge
And she wakes from her nap
She looks up at the screen
And types away
She writes away
