kalena-leone - Hello Poetry

had to ask somebody for toughness today *** the skin they had grown for 54 years was not enough to deal with my ******** had to ask somebody to let go today *** their closets were like 9/11 towers and i did not want to be the first plane. had to ask somebody for a vacation today *** i can't stop thinkin' about the ocean and the fact that i'm still not sure where i'm heading; gotta explore my options. had to ask somebody if they remembered today *** i saw the carpet coming off the floor and i thought of the first time i stepped on a nail, and how i realized our blood changes from //blue to red\\ had to ask somebody for a ride today *** i spent too much time reciting poetry in HS and i'm scared i'll hit a mirror or a rabbit. see, usually... i just ask myself. usually, it isn't even a question i move my arm toward what's gotta be done but today, i needed some palms to read. i needed some help.

0

Aug 7, 2017

Aug 7, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC

i'd drive off the road over hitting a rabbit

had to ask somebody for toughness today *** the skin they had grown for 54 years was not enough to deal with my ******** had to ask somebody to let go today *** their closets were like 9/11 towers and i did not want to be the first plane. had to ask somebody for a vacation today *** i can't stop thinkin' about the ocean and the fact that i'm still not sure where i'm heading; gotta explore my options. had to ask somebody if they remembered today *** i saw the carpet coming off the floor and i thought of the first time i stepped on a nail, and how i realized our blood changes from //blue to red\\ had to ask somebody for a ride today *** i spent too much time reciting poetry in HS and i'm scared i'll hit a mirror or a rabbit. see, usually... i just ask myself. usually, it isn't even a question i move my arm toward what's gotta be done but today, i needed some palms to read. i needed some help.

30

now i'm the meditator moving in slow motion try, see what the lights looked like on her cloud soft skin how long she spent in front of a reflection using mother's new eye shadow labeled Midnight, adding to her moonlight glow sneaking kisses behind their backs has been something i pride myself on ride myself on i touch all of you in the same places; the difference being when you need it but there are so many connections laced under your layers that i have trouble ignoring. "How do you know exactly how to touch me?" I was born all-knowing. that secret spot along the back of an ear (the curled fold on a leaf) anywhere the bristles poke me (pine needles brush my shins) where hair meets the back of a neck (that vast lake, meeting the sky) the shaft meeting all that hair (base of a tree that fits my back) the crease on a knee (cracked soil in the desert) the palm of a hand (an areal view of connecting streams) the tip of a ****** (a mountain peak) the bottom lip, slightly tugged (the opening of our damaged atmosphere) That is how I know; from singing to atlas' saturating maps in my wetness, staining myself with ink ... and knowing exactly where to feel.

0

Sep 29, 2016

Sep 29, 2016 at 4:15 PM UTC

navigating you

now i'm the meditator moving in slow motion try, see what the lights looked like on her cloud soft skin how long she spent in front of a reflection using mother's new eye shadow labeled Midnight, adding to her moonlight glow sneaking kisses behind their backs has been something i pride myself on ride myself on i touch all of you in the same places; the difference being when you need it but there are so many connections laced under your layers that i have trouble ignoring. "How do you know exactly how to touch me?" I was born all-knowing. that secret spot along the back of an ear (the curled fold on a leaf) anywhere the bristles poke me (pine needles brush my shins) where hair meets the back of a neck (that vast lake, meeting the sky) the shaft meeting all that hair (base of a tree that fits my back) the crease on a knee (cracked soil in the desert) the palm of a hand (an areal view of connecting streams) the tip of a ****** (a mountain peak) the bottom lip, slightly tugged (the opening of our damaged atmosphere) That is how I know; from singing to atlas' saturating maps in my wetness, staining myself with ink ... and knowing exactly where to feel.

36

The hole in my chest spins with the phosphorescent white lights of my eyeballs They go out in an instant Reverse, counterclockwise This house is toxic and I can't seem to shake the feeling that this black-hole feels more like home than anything I've known. It isn't because I know you best It's because I know you worst And if I had learned that and never repeated the lesson, Then my candles wouldn't be nearly gone And my lipstick wouldn't be stained onto my lips And I would have been asleep hours ago. See, I have a problem with saying no. A vortex approaches me and I'm excited, not afraid I invite it in to my rib cage just to feel it knot all of my torso into a ball Tensing it and tensing it until I release Into the blade and into the lack of my senses Tingling and wet incisions that taste like bitter mangoes and the bad nights in summer Hot nights, Sticky nights. When you can't close your eyes and you can't feel your legs but the hair on your forehead could be glued on The last time I was sent away, I had cat scratches on my hands They're back again My knuckles were the prettiest shades of red, black, and blue. These appear in my head Which might be a step toward heaven Or what everyone tells me normality feels like. Ignorance, bliss, and most important, The avoidance of disappointment all together. That's what I'm filled with. Pens with missing parts, smudged nail polish, burning your hair, not having a family to have Thanksgiving with, knowing dad wants to die, waking up from a nightmare, being ****** into adulthood, having no money, being stood up at 3am by your ex Darkness The light has to be in there somewhere Or else I don't know what I'll do.

0

Nov 16, 2014

Nov 16, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC

bitter mangoes

The hole in my chest spins with the phosphorescent white lights of my eyeballs They go out in an instant Reverse, counterclockwise This house is toxic and I can't seem to shake the feeling that this black-hole feels more like home than anything I've known. It isn't because I know you best It's because I know you worst And if I had learned that and never repeated the lesson, Then my candles wouldn't be nearly gone And my lipstick wouldn't be stained onto my lips And I would have been asleep hours ago. See, I have a problem with saying no. A vortex approaches me and I'm excited, not afraid I invite it in to my rib cage just to feel it knot all of my torso into a ball Tensing it and tensing it until I release Into the blade and into the lack of my senses Tingling and wet incisions that taste like bitter mangoes and the bad nights in summer Hot nights, Sticky nights. When you can't close your eyes and you can't feel your legs but the hair on your forehead could be glued on The last time I was sent away, I had cat scratches on my hands They're back again My knuckles were the prettiest shades of red, black, and blue. These appear in my head Which might be a step toward heaven Or what everyone tells me normality feels like. Ignorance, bliss, and most important, The avoidance of disappointment all together. That's what I'm filled with. Pens with missing parts, smudged nail polish, burning your hair, not having a family to have Thanksgiving with, knowing dad wants to die, waking up from a nightmare, being ****** into adulthood, having no money, being stood up at 3am by your ex Darkness The light has to be in there somewhere Or else I don't know what I'll do.

32

I don't know if I'm more afraid of the future or the past. I don't capitalize "I" if I'm feeling low. When I call myself the ocean, it means I'm crying. Half my phrases are made up about things I see but don't understand. I'm a jungle-gym. Thoughts climb me pull out my hair Nestle in my ear drum Sing until my fair skin shines in snow. I don't know why you still matter. Why gravity hasn't taken you smashed you on the side of its bowl mixed, poured served you to your mother. I don't know why I still know what your door sounds like when its opened or slammed shut. I'm scared because I couldn't handle it last year. I'm scared because the Christmas tree in the school's court yard looks just like the one from my hospital window I'm scared that you're dying. I'm scared that I lost so many that I dyed my hair purple and yet you still don't see me. I'm scared because September lives in Seattle and he's the only one okay with me not shaving my legs. You see, it feels as though everything is miles away I've never been a runner and I don't know how to drive a car I don't know how I'll get there. I'm afraid of trust. I'm afraid to trust myself. What if tall windows aren't enough? Will the library be big enough to hide in? Will my favorite color stay green? What if I lose myself? What if I don't go to India?

0

Dec 10, 2013

Dec 10, 2013 at 2:07 AM UTC

I don't know if I'm more afraid of the future or the past

I don't know if I'm more afraid of the future or the past. I don't capitalize "I" if I'm feeling low. When I call myself the ocean, it means I'm crying. Half my phrases are made up about things I see but don't understand. I'm a jungle-gym. Thoughts climb me pull out my hair Nestle in my ear drum Sing until my fair skin shines in snow. I don't know why you still matter. Why gravity hasn't taken you smashed you on the side of its bowl mixed, poured served you to your mother. I don't know why I still know what your door sounds like when its opened or slammed shut. I'm scared because I couldn't handle it last year. I'm scared because the Christmas tree in the school's court yard looks just like the one from my hospital window I'm scared that you're dying. I'm scared that I lost so many that I dyed my hair purple and yet you still don't see me. I'm scared because September lives in Seattle and he's the only one okay with me not shaving my legs. You see, it feels as though everything is miles away I've never been a runner and I don't know how to drive a car I don't know how I'll get there. I'm afraid of trust. I'm afraid to trust myself. What if tall windows aren't enough? Will the library be big enough to hide in? Will my favorite color stay green? What if I lose myself? What if I don't go to India?

47

Someday I’m going to sit in the rocking chair I begged my mom to throw away because it was old and ugly and I’m going to be thankful that I’m moving. That scares me.

0

Dec 3, 2013

Dec 3, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC

My Dad Has Cancer

Someday I’m going to sit in the rocking chair I begged my mom to throw away because it was old and ugly and I’m going to be thankful that I’m moving. That scares me.

1

fans spin and breezes blow and music plays and children fall and showers wash and fences cover and kites fly and grass grows and railings balance and bugs crawl and glass shatters and cars go and fireflies light up and volcanoes erupt and tides rise and planets rotate and stars shine and hands hold and feet walk and bushes rustle and birds sing and kings rule and helmets protect and water quenches. these things remind me of what you do to me. K.K.

0

Jul 20, 2013

Jul 20, 2013 at 10:34 PM UTC

paintbrushes soak and

fans spin and breezes blow and music plays and children fall and showers wash and fences cover and kites fly and grass grows and railings balance and bugs crawl and glass shatters and cars go and fireflies light up and volcanoes erupt and tides rise and planets rotate and stars shine and hands hold and feet walk and bushes rustle and birds sing and kings rule and helmets protect and water quenches. these things remind me of what you do to me. K.K.

14

burn in a bonfire sell in a garage sale throw at a mirror feed to a pack of dogs eat with your mother offer to the Gods pin to a tree drown in the ocean flatten in a book bury under your floorboards hang like a chandelier donate to science kiss before bed

0

May 30, 2013

May 30, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC

my heart is yours to:

burn in a bonfire sell in a garage sale throw at a mirror feed to a pack of dogs eat with your mother offer to the Gods pin to a tree drown in the ocean flatten in a book bury under your floorboards hang like a chandelier donate to science kiss before bed

13

The binding on my mind is rotting in the forest floor Planted there to never be found I now realize the dead doesn't stay dead forever and you can't quiet a sleeping darkness because it whispers in its dreams and the nightmare is coming to a ****** it's beginning to sob the binding on my mind is rotting how do i reverse nature and make myself whole again?

0

May 30, 2013

May 30, 2013 at 11:49 PM UTC

quiet

The binding on my mind is rotting in the forest floor Planted there to never be found I now realize the dead doesn't stay dead forever and you can't quiet a sleeping darkness because it whispers in its dreams and the nightmare is coming to a ****** it's beginning to sob the binding on my mind is rotting how do i reverse nature and make myself whole again?

10

i began collecting my hair in April it sits on the tops of pillows weaves itself onto scalps of my loves sets itself on bathroom floors and swirls onto the walls of showers wraps itself around your tender parts and leaves me pounds lighter. i find it on this very page soft and breakable and shines in lamplight that is harsh like how you pulled the strands because i asked you to. i shed so much because i secretly wish to vanish and my vanity has not taken over and my vapor sits still behind my gums even when i am left alone taking bristles to my head to relax because i have no one to play with me and no one to look into when the sky is a combination of both day and night.

0

May 30, 2013

May 30, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC

hair

i began collecting my hair in April it sits on the tops of pillows weaves itself onto scalps of my loves sets itself on bathroom floors and swirls onto the walls of showers wraps itself around your tender parts and leaves me pounds lighter. i find it on this very page soft and breakable and shines in lamplight that is harsh like how you pulled the strands because i asked you to. i shed so much because i secretly wish to vanish and my vanity has not taken over and my vapor sits still behind my gums even when i am left alone taking bristles to my head to relax because i have no one to play with me and no one to look into when the sky is a combination of both day and night.

21

We're a shuffled deck of cards and while I play these games in the dark light of my bedroom the tree branches reach through glass and scrape down my soft, fragile womb marked in three slashes in the sign of the devil. We are twirling in a sea of romantic era art songs written off of clouds and 20th century paintings of eyes in the sky. We meant to go right veer right swerve right but wrong is the way the storm has pushed us. Floating on rooftops I am waving my pale arms pleading for help I try to map out the swells of tides in my chest with chains of rusty necklaces handed down from my ancestors who would shake their **** heads if they could see the effort I throw into waking each new, bright morning filled with crowing doves that follow me like i resemble an angel carcass in a world of dreamy humans climbing down the street under a ceiling of umbrellas engulfing ****** features i used to identify you.

0

May 30, 2013

May 30, 2013 at 11:44 PM UTC

April 25, 2013

We're a shuffled deck of cards and while I play these games in the dark light of my bedroom the tree branches reach through glass and scrape down my soft, fragile womb marked in three slashes in the sign of the devil. We are twirling in a sea of romantic era art songs written off of clouds and 20th century paintings of eyes in the sky. We meant to go right veer right swerve right but wrong is the way the storm has pushed us. Floating on rooftops I am waving my pale arms pleading for help I try to map out the swells of tides in my chest with chains of rusty necklaces handed down from my ancestors who would shake their **** heads if they could see the effort I throw into waking each new, bright morning filled with crowing doves that follow me like i resemble an angel carcass in a world of dreamy humans climbing down the street under a ceiling of umbrellas engulfing ****** features i used to identify you.

30