marie-christine - Hello Poetry

The skin bursts juicy and fragrant around the tender white fruit inside filling my mouth and my head with a delicious knowledge and sense of ripening power i can feel the beat beat beat of my white heart darkening to red then to black the beat beat beat that takes me from ignorance to enlightenment the delight of the fruit and its incredible taste not comparing to the joy of the sin the rebellion filling my heart quickly turning from ignorance to utter bliss Punishment we can never overcome, upon us and all my descendants, a secret pleasure of disobedience becoming rooted in our mouths, brains, hearts for all eternity in this land of gods I have created a monster, the world of angels and unnamed animals a place of serpents, sagacious humanity, and beautifully intermingled immorality Sin, shaping itself smoothly around the core i hold in my two fingers, has made me wise and in my own eyes I am the Gods and Monsters in this Eden made of blindness and willful naivety

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Oct 4, 2015

Oct 4, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC

Gods And Monsters

The skin bursts juicy and fragrant around the tender white fruit inside filling my mouth and my head with a delicious knowledge and sense of ripening power i can feel the beat beat beat of my white heart darkening to red then to black the beat beat beat that takes me from ignorance to enlightenment the delight of the fruit and its incredible taste not comparing to the joy of the sin the rebellion filling my heart quickly turning from ignorance to utter bliss Punishment we can never overcome, upon us and all my descendants, a secret pleasure of disobedience becoming rooted in our mouths, brains, hearts for all eternity in this land of gods I have created a monster, the world of angels and unnamed animals a place of serpents, sagacious humanity, and beautifully intermingled immorality Sin, shaping itself smoothly around the core i hold in my two fingers, has made me wise and in my own eyes I am the Gods and Monsters in this Eden made of blindness and willful naivety

7

Mother Dear, I love you with a love that is uncertain, tentative, conditional as the sun in the sky You broke my heart years ago. you took my life, the one I wanted and ripped it up you claimed I never loved anything that I did, and never wanted to be with/see/love any of it, all of it again you claimed I asked you to do that As if I didn't know my own head and my own words You took away the horses that ran as fast as my thoughts, the books that reminded me that I wasn't truly alone, removed me from the friends like mirrors of my heart and for the first time...I knew what it felt like to love nothing and be loved by no one. I wrote I hated you, I starved myself to feel like you didn't own me and you took that from me too...taking away my journals, forcing me to eat when I would rather have allowed the bones to jut from my body in subtle defiance You couldn't take the novels I wrote in my mind or the memories of those days, pieces of words and conversations forever circling back to haunt me like the ghosts that make you who you are You made me a shell, a blank, southern, suburban wife in the making someone who disgusts me...but you are my mother and I can't hate you I have to love you- even when the feeling is fleeting and I question it. Your hair curls like mine you say and I can only imagine yours curling from the heated vapors frying in your brain all empty the way you want it "Ignorance and bliss" you say and that is why you live in your tiny bowl of stupidity and joy- a hopeless optimism that angers me more than anything else. I want to despise you sometimes and others I want to be your best friend You have hurt me in ways that nothing else could ever compare to but without you and your dedication of 87 days to a hospital bed, I would not be here at all I do not know if I can handle looking at your eyes with my own or holding a hug for more than a moment but i know i always try I must always try. Moments pass with us in tune and as friends or even better a mother-and-daughter not at war but at peace and it is nice And then you say, your hair is too long, your shoulders or slumped or you need to lose weight and the feeling spirals and fragments like a million little snowflakes no one feeling the same but all of them razor sharp cutting me in jagged pieces of who I was and reshaping me into a girl, young and frightened, a girl who I do not recognize. A girl who I do not want to be the pieces of your cold words bury themselves under my skin and they rattle around in my mind long after they melt against the warmth of my anger

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Oct 4, 2015

Oct 4, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC

Mother Dear

Mother Dear, I love you with a love that is uncertain, tentative, conditional as the sun in the sky You broke my heart years ago. you took my life, the one I wanted and ripped it up you claimed I never loved anything that I did, and never wanted to be with/see/love any of it, all of it again you claimed I asked you to do that As if I didn't know my own head and my own words You took away the horses that ran as fast as my thoughts, the books that reminded me that I wasn't truly alone, removed me from the friends like mirrors of my heart and for the first time...I knew what it felt like to love nothing and be loved by no one. I wrote I hated you, I starved myself to feel like you didn't own me and you took that from me too...taking away my journals, forcing me to eat when I would rather have allowed the bones to jut from my body in subtle defiance You couldn't take the novels I wrote in my mind or the memories of those days, pieces of words and conversations forever circling back to haunt me like the ghosts that make you who you are You made me a shell, a blank, southern, suburban wife in the making someone who disgusts me...but you are my mother and I can't hate you I have to love you- even when the feeling is fleeting and I question it. Your hair curls like mine you say and I can only imagine yours curling from the heated vapors frying in your brain all empty the way you want it "Ignorance and bliss" you say and that is why you live in your tiny bowl of stupidity and joy- a hopeless optimism that angers me more than anything else. I want to despise you sometimes and others I want to be your best friend You have hurt me in ways that nothing else could ever compare to but without you and your dedication of 87 days to a hospital bed, I would not be here at all I do not know if I can handle looking at your eyes with my own or holding a hug for more than a moment but i know i always try I must always try. Moments pass with us in tune and as friends or even better a mother-and-daughter not at war but at peace and it is nice And then you say, your hair is too long, your shoulders or slumped or you need to lose weight and the feeling spirals and fragments like a million little snowflakes no one feeling the same but all of them razor sharp cutting me in jagged pieces of who I was and reshaping me into a girl, young and frightened, a girl who I do not recognize. A girl who I do not want to be the pieces of your cold words bury themselves under my skin and they rattle around in my mind long after they melt against the warmth of my anger

26

A million leaves rotate in a slow spiral to the ground already littered with the colors of autumn the creek, frigid even in summer, flows as quickly, quietly as possible down to a creek larger in size, to a river, to the ocean eventually taking every laugh and tear with it every summer from since ages before I was born i have been there generations laughed and cried and fell in love upon that creek, next to the campsite Lot 47 was just a lot, it was wider, had bigger trees but it is just a site a site where my grandparents loved each other more than life itself, where my dad laughed harder than he ever did at home, where mom learned to cook, where i got the scar on my ankle, where our names are illegally carved in the trees where i learned to build a fire, hiked for miles, saw baby elk up close, fawns and bears. Smokemont is just a place, a place of happiness and love and nostalgia of family and friends and a sense of forever it is a place i will never go again but whenever i close my eyes and reach for peace it is the place i end up with the smell of nanny's chili at dusk and coffee early in the cold humid mornings where mist rises off the creek like a magical fog seducing us in solitude and a quiet joy. The marshmallows roasted to a golden-y perfection every single night with Poppy telling stories and nanny squeezing into my chair wearing a navy blue hoodie and telling me to put on something warmer Where i sit and read harry potter for hours, where we are all one again and when i open my eyes...poppy has sold the camper, nanny is buried with river rocks from lot 47, and we swear we won't go back without her

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Oct 1, 2015

Oct 1, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC

Lot #47

A million leaves rotate in a slow spiral to the ground already littered with the colors of autumn the creek, frigid even in summer, flows as quickly, quietly as possible down to a creek larger in size, to a river, to the ocean eventually taking every laugh and tear with it every summer from since ages before I was born i have been there generations laughed and cried and fell in love upon that creek, next to the campsite Lot 47 was just a lot, it was wider, had bigger trees but it is just a site a site where my grandparents loved each other more than life itself, where my dad laughed harder than he ever did at home, where mom learned to cook, where i got the scar on my ankle, where our names are illegally carved in the trees where i learned to build a fire, hiked for miles, saw baby elk up close, fawns and bears. Smokemont is just a place, a place of happiness and love and nostalgia of family and friends and a sense of forever it is a place i will never go again but whenever i close my eyes and reach for peace it is the place i end up with the smell of nanny's chili at dusk and coffee early in the cold humid mornings where mist rises off the creek like a magical fog seducing us in solitude and a quiet joy. The marshmallows roasted to a golden-y perfection every single night with Poppy telling stories and nanny squeezing into my chair wearing a navy blue hoodie and telling me to put on something warmer Where i sit and read harry potter for hours, where we are all one again and when i open my eyes...poppy has sold the camper, nanny is buried with river rocks from lot 47, and we swear we won't go back without her

10

In my homeland I would sit and drink wine I would look out over the coast, drink espresso in cafes, walk in mircowedges over cobblestone streets in tight brown pants and beautiful coats. I would cook and bake and love and read and write, i would kiss my Nonna's cheek and speak with my hands. But... This is not my homeland and I do not drink wine I drink beer from a keg, starbucks with pumpkin, and the coffee here is drunk sitting down. I don't look over a coast but a concrete jungle of noise and smells that aren't fragrant or delicious there is no kitchen for me to cook in my dorm and i wear nike shorts and bean boots and i feel this life is not a grand one My homeland is not this place and indeed, nothing like this place and for that, i am grateful

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Sep 30, 2015

Sep 30, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC

Italia

In my homeland I would sit and drink wine I would look out over the coast, drink espresso in cafes, walk in mircowedges over cobblestone streets in tight brown pants and beautiful coats. I would cook and bake and love and read and write, i would kiss my Nonna's cheek and speak with my hands. But... This is not my homeland and I do not drink wine I drink beer from a keg, starbucks with pumpkin, and the coffee here is drunk sitting down. I don't look over a coast but a concrete jungle of noise and smells that aren't fragrant or delicious there is no kitchen for me to cook in my dorm and i wear nike shorts and bean boots and i feel this life is not a grand one My homeland is not this place and indeed, nothing like this place and for that, i am grateful

9

I live in feeble attempts to make my life matter, Every moment my wings beat against broken glass to escape but i cannot. Searching for a way to get out to be free to live a life of more than entrapment in a zoo of madness My life is not lived it is recorded, chewed up, spat out, cooked, served It's encaged by everything i could've/ should've done my life is not lived it is not anything but...but, it matters

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Sep 30, 2015

Sep 30, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC

Untitled

I live in feeble attempts to make my life matter, Every moment my wings beat against broken glass to escape but i cannot. Searching for a way to get out to be free to live a life of more than entrapment in a zoo of madness My life is not lived it is recorded, chewed up, spat out, cooked, served It's encaged by everything i could've/ should've done my life is not lived it is not anything but...but, it matters

7

In the darkness on the edge of my bed your name lights up my phone Eight months later and I still can't breathe when i see it I want this to be us starting over but it is just a text and you hurt me before, in the darkness your name lights but my face my heart, everything again 8 months of getting over you is gone your name lit up my phone and i am yours again... before i even open the message

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Sep 30, 2015

Sep 30, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC

Bright Screen

In the darkness on the edge of my bed your name lights up my phone Eight months later and I still can't breathe when i see it I want this to be us starting over but it is just a text and you hurt me before, in the darkness your name lights but my face my heart, everything again 8 months of getting over you is gone your name lit up my phone and i am yours again... before i even open the message

10

The water is deep and you are gone. again. I should be used to it. I miss you most when it rains. The petrichor drowns your scent/laugh/touch/voice- the waves of missing you crush me with their weight. Sometimes, i drown. More often, i swim. rarely, i float. "Sea to shining sea", I you, we are lonely. Never alone, they say we say, but always alone. cold nights and endless mornings. Sometimes, on calmer days i look back . To when you were here. When we were we. I love you. To the depth of your ocean. with the weight of your ship. To wherever you are and back again. but. You are not here. You are gone and the dark water rises to cover my mouth so you can't hear my scream. a small mercy. The sun rises in the morning- it makes me cry. Our stars- the same where you are as i am in our white house on our porch with my flag- are gone. It's harder to imagine you here. the sun is too bright to lend me your warmth. And you are gone. I eat lunch, see friends, miss you. Our house feels like my house. But a picture reminds me. It is shared by two. Sometimes. sometimes i can close my eyes and picture you here; sometimes i think of you and smile. Mostly, i wait for you. wonder about you. Rarely do i go a day without missing you, never do i go a second without thinking of you. You come back to me like the waves. But you are not- The Same. I worry until you leave again. Then constantly, i worry still. But this time when the rain falls, you drown. I don't. yet. The waves proved too much and they knock "rap, rap,rap" on my tiny red door in the middle of the blackest night they are sorry, they say. so am I, I cry until i flood the earth, fills their oceans, drown my pain and their pathetic remorse, the flag they give me is soaked but it helps me stay afloat This little white house is mine, not ours, and i can no longer swim.

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Apr 16, 2015

Apr 16, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC

Drowning

The water is deep and you are gone. again. I should be used to it. I miss you most when it rains. The petrichor drowns your scent/laugh/touch/voice- the waves of missing you crush me with their weight. Sometimes, i drown. More often, i swim. rarely, i float. "Sea to shining sea", I you, we are lonely. Never alone, they say we say, but always alone. cold nights and endless mornings. Sometimes, on calmer days i look back . To when you were here. When we were we. I love you. To the depth of your ocean. with the weight of your ship. To wherever you are and back again. but. You are not here. You are gone and the dark water rises to cover my mouth so you can't hear my scream. a small mercy. The sun rises in the morning- it makes me cry. Our stars- the same where you are as i am in our white house on our porch with my flag- are gone. It's harder to imagine you here. the sun is too bright to lend me your warmth. And you are gone. I eat lunch, see friends, miss you. Our house feels like my house. But a picture reminds me. It is shared by two. Sometimes. sometimes i can close my eyes and picture you here; sometimes i think of you and smile. Mostly, i wait for you. wonder about you. Rarely do i go a day without missing you, never do i go a second without thinking of you. You come back to me like the waves. But you are not- The Same. I worry until you leave again. Then constantly, i worry still. But this time when the rain falls, you drown. I don't. yet. The waves proved too much and they knock "rap, rap,rap" on my tiny red door in the middle of the blackest night they are sorry, they say. so am I, I cry until i flood the earth, fills their oceans, drown my pain and their pathetic remorse, the flag they give me is soaked but it helps me stay afloat This little white house is mine, not ours, and i can no longer swim.

17

You are my favorite thought the one i search for when my mind looks for peace who i imagine when i am sad/lonely/angry you bring me peace/company/joy and i love you my other thoughts are not like you they are darker/political/ambitious but you, you are calming and i can't not think of you

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Apr 16, 2015

Apr 16, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC

Thoughts

You are my favorite thought the one i search for when my mind looks for peace who i imagine when i am sad/lonely/angry you bring me peace/company/joy and i love you my other thoughts are not like you they are darker/political/ambitious but you, you are calming and i can't not think of you

7

We are too happy. we were- must have been. You are not here.You are far away and i lie alone. I wake alone. Your letters, all i have of you- fill me with love/longing/fear. I worry for you and things you have seen. Places i won't go. everything you don't/ can't tell me screams wordlessly in my brain. It's too loud for me to sleep. To quiet to stay awake. i tell you only lies. pretty ones. "I love you (I do), i miss you, you'll be home soon" i want to say- I am not okay. I miss you so much it is like the knives we got for a wedding gift, the ones you've barely used, are sticking cold and steely in my heart and i am dying, you won't be home soon you never are. But i wish you were- i love you- i write to you- i'll wait for you.

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Apr 16, 2015

Apr 16, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC

Untitled

We are too happy. we were- must have been. You are not here.You are far away and i lie alone. I wake alone. Your letters, all i have of you- fill me with love/longing/fear. I worry for you and things you have seen. Places i won't go. everything you don't/ can't tell me screams wordlessly in my brain. It's too loud for me to sleep. To quiet to stay awake. i tell you only lies. pretty ones. "I love you (I do), i miss you, you'll be home soon" i want to say- I am not okay. I miss you so much it is like the knives we got for a wedding gift, the ones you've barely used, are sticking cold and steely in my heart and i am dying, you won't be home soon you never are. But i wish you were- i love you- i write to you- i'll wait for you.

6

I kiss you. Goodbye. I wait under you- watch until the plane goes up. above my by miles, away from me my countries. The gravel road of our driveway is cool and firm the sand of the desert is hot and shifting and you are gone You promise to be home soon- we both know you won't but pretend to believe this is a promise you can keep you will not be home soon, if you come home at all I miss you i wait for you i want you here but you don't come, you can't

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Apr 16, 2015

Apr 16, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC

sea

I kiss you. Goodbye. I wait under you- watch until the plane goes up. above my by miles, away from me my countries. The gravel road of our driveway is cool and firm the sand of the desert is hot and shifting and you are gone You promise to be home soon- we both know you won't but pretend to believe this is a promise you can keep you will not be home soon, if you come home at all I miss you i wait for you i want you here but you don't come, you can't

8