dont ever look at my hello poetry again
(i know you are reading this)
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 11:19 PM UTC
You may see a vacant lot
Where a building has burned down
But I see a garden spot
With flowers growing all around.
And maybe a bench to sit
A take a while to appreciate
What can be done by people
With loving energy to dedicate.
You may see an empty field
Overrun by neglect and weeds.
But, I see a garden here,
And care is really all it needs.
Maybe some cutting back
And of course, a lot of water.
But time and compassion
Is what will ultimately matter.
Realtors may calculate
The money to make from this land
But, I see a garden
That needs some helping hands.
Maybe some cows can graze
Or a pretty little babbling brook.
A place of nature’s bounty
Like out of a wonderful storybook.
Do we need one more store,
Or one more fast food restaurant?
Maybe some serenity is
What people of the world really want.
Some may see a patch of dirt
And not much more than fallow earth.
As for me, I see a garden.
A bit of paradise right here on earth.
(This was written for and about Bette Midler.)
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC
Somedays.
I wish there was someone,
or somewhere to go.
A place to seek help.
For anything or any reason,
Without fear of anything,
or anyone.
There isn't a place,
With anonymity for those problems that are,
Less common than most,
The ones you can't say aloud.
Instead,
We are forced to suffer in silence.
Because the fears in which control us...
...are the fears of people finding out.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
As i come to terms
With what I've learned
I find
It's time
For which I've yearned
Time to love
And time to teach
Time to make sweet memories
Killing is easy
It's the hunt that proves deceiving
Because who can find time,
On a planet so preoccupied
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
in the smell of cigarettes and coffee,
you find comfort,
and the space to avoid all things that may bound you or your toughwithaleatherjacket ****** front
toxic fumes on your lips,
rise above layers of black eyeliner fake lashes
above your false vitality,
lantern eyes fading, no longer able to find anything but inevitable fatality
dark, amidst despondence and incertitude,
masking our insecurity with smoke and cheep attitudes
take that tab of acid
get ready for the trip
down
down
down
tonight
ill find a new lover to
**** me till im gone
pride too lost to recover
roll me up and smoke me
at least before dawn
waking up to a body i dont knoe
you'd think i'd know better
than to love a starving artist
a shape shifter
a person so sick in the head
no hope
im not talking about the beggar in my bed
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
I turned the radio up as loud as it could go,
Lit every candle in the house, and poured a glass of wine.
I sat back and let our memories dance across the room.
I always liked life better with a soundtrack
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 1:15 PM UTC
I still remember that night. I remember how I felt before it happened more vividly than how I felt after. I think I remember it so well because that was the last time I ever felt whole.
Your intentions filled the room as I watched the drool on the side of your lips. The uneasy smirk on your face. You wanted a lot more than to "just get laid." I was far too young to even begin to understand the parts of my body you knew not to touch.
As you kissed me down my neck, my spine quivered and my fear shook. My mother always told me to follow my gut and when I did you grabbed me and you told me not to listen to it. You told me to ignore what I didn't want for the sake of your temporary pleasure. You disregarded my comfort and put your **** ahead of my feelings.
You yanked my legs open and your ripped me into two pieces, and till this day I have yet to find the other half you stolen from me, and I swear I almost see it everyday when I stand ahead of myself naked infront of my mirror but I can never stare at myself long enough to grab me in and make myself whole again.
Do you see what you have done to me? Was that temporary pleasure from my little 13 year old body worth the pain I face today? Was that stolen pleasure worth every jump I make when the man I love touches me with permission? Was your everlasting ****** sounds of moans and sighs escaping from your lips, echoing in my stomach and spilling out in my tears worth me cutting myself open every night since?
I guess it was because at least I'm giving myself permission opening myself up. At least the pain has conscient. At least the blade dragging across my skin silenced the sound of your pleasure inside of me. At least the blood from my wrist dripping onto the bathroom floor isn't mixed with this filth.
At least I have the choice to put just a little more pressure in and I wont have to be reminded of you anymore.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC
The snow is falling to the ground,
Kind of like it is falling in love
Not knowing that when it hits the earth it will definitely melt
Well darling, melt me. Let me seep into your skin sending shivers down that ridged spine and know I want you to be all mine. Cover every inch of you with ephemeral loving. I'll make you forget all warmth and then I want to be your summer. Yes. Both passion and pain... And it is so so much
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
Virginity
My virginity was bang, a brain against a glass-tinted window. It was child-locked doors and ax cologne. It was too much muscle and a 13 year old body to weak to tussle.
My virginity was a man who made **** seem like an art, the same systematic way the mortician dissects the cadaver. Striped from a name like i was nothing but a corpse
It was the bruises left for weeks. The ****** teeth marks left upon my once sacred body. It that deep voice with Alcohol on its breath.
Yes. My virginity was a ******* earthquake. It was 7 minutes of the worst kind of hell. 7. Where I stopped believing in heaven. Trust became the law, fear my bible. I watched as my foundations crumble. and I knew that this Earth was no longer safe to walk on. It was the aftershocks running down my spine and me, a vacant building constantly about to tumble
So here I am. 3 years later, standing in his rubble. mistaking a kiss for his fist. It's been panic attacks in grocery stores. It's been 3 years of hating myself more than anyone else possibly could. It's been 3 years of
Self blame
And the shadow of a girl I became
Unworthy is a word that takes up so much space
It was the carrying the scars of my last binge.
The night I convinced myself if it burned going down it must be holy water.
Finally Salvation
drinking so much I couldn't stand.
Drinking so much I could no longer stand myself.
I familiarized myself with the taste of concrete and forgot the smell of old books.
constantly looking for a new hook.
Blowing halos of smoking trying to make death look beautiful.
I found myself in a deep dark hole
Oblivion.. My only goal
Lately, It's been learning my body isn't an apology.
It's been learning that bravery cannot be measured my a lack of fear;
some times it takes a ******* soldier to look your demons in the eye and say.
This is my body.
I am the beautiful owner of busy breath.
I'm that shadow girl with a storm inside
No I am not that bruised soul in the empty bottle.
It's been 3 year of convincing myself that This world, it needs my voice.
It's been learning I am a miraculous dance floor of glittering molecules.
It's been learning that You will never have a greater opportunity to learn to love thy enemy, when your enemy is own holy, holy self.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC