powers - Hello Poetry

You're a constant reminder that poetry can't fix everything.

0

Apr 30, 2015

Apr 30, 2015 at 1:09 AM UTC

You're a constant reminder that poetry can't fix everything.

Six I showed up in an orange polo blue jeans, a blonde bowl cut and the latest light up barbie shoes my mother dropped me at my classroom door she left with tears in swelling her eyes because I was the only child who wasn't clinging to her like the last strand of hope I had she was so proud I was on top of the world until you tore me down threw your wooden cities in my face and told me I belonged with the boys Eight I showed up in a pink dress white flats, and shirley temple curls my mother sent me to school that day she left with a twinkle in her eye because I was the only kid in our minivan who wasn't faking fevers she was proud I made myself known until I sat criss cross in that cotton candy dress and you told me that girls dont sit like I do and that I belong with the boys Twelve I showed up in pink jeans a graphic giraffe T, straight shoulder length locks and black chuck taylors My mother dropped me off that day her eyes watched me until I was safely inside because she knew I was nervous I took junior high by storm she was proud you took note of my sports bra laughed at my cardboard chest and told me I belonged with the boys Thirteen I showed up in basketball shorts a simple T, shoulder length hair and tennis shoes I walked to school that day My mother was still sleeping I hid from everyone you asked me if I liked girls and thats when I knew I belonged with the boys I needed these ******* boys Thirteen I showed up in black sweats a hoodie that avoided my curves like roadkill a half assed ponytail and running shoes I was invisible I replaced the gauze on my thighs that concealed the proof he was here I wore and extra shirt to hide the proof he was here I learned to use makeup in all the wrong places in hopes to prove he was never here His fists played symphonies across my ribcage He made songs of my pleads for forgiveness and apologies addressed to both him and god and I am still trying to forget the notes I am still trying to forget he explored my depths I am still trying to pretend that he was never here He said I could only belong to the boys if they could touch me Fourteen I thought the cough syrup would save me Fifteen He took the only shred of dignity I had left I listened as my only hope for a family was ripped limb from limb The child who's crescendo heartbeat originated from me was slaughtered at the price of a Versace ring and a fake I.D. Fifteen I thought I could hear him screaming Twenty I am defined by twenty different men These scars are proof of me nitpicking the pieces of them from my skin Proof that I am worth nothing more than a one night stand Twenty taught me: 1. No one will ever understand how empty you become when you're constantly filled by different men 2. A new canvas will not make you feel any cleaner 3. Hands feel like hands in the dark no matter who is behind them 4. After about the 3rd one night stand you will realize that 2 is the loneliest number 5. My mother is no longer proud to see me

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Feb 25, 2014

Feb 25, 2014 at 3:26 AM UTC

Cheers to the teenage years

Six I showed up in an orange polo blue jeans, a blonde bowl cut and the latest light up barbie shoes my mother dropped me at my classroom door she left with tears in swelling her eyes because I was the only child who wasn't clinging to her like the last strand of hope I had she was so proud I was on top of the world until you tore me down threw your wooden cities in my face and told me I belonged with the boys Eight I showed up in a pink dress white flats, and shirley temple curls my mother sent me to school that day she left with a twinkle in her eye because I was the only kid in our minivan who wasn't faking fevers she was proud I made myself known until I sat criss cross in that cotton candy dress and you told me that girls dont sit like I do and that I belong with the boys Twelve I showed up in pink jeans a graphic giraffe T, straight shoulder length locks and black chuck taylors My mother dropped me off that day her eyes watched me until I was safely inside because she knew I was nervous I took junior high by storm she was proud you took note of my sports bra laughed at my cardboard chest and told me I belonged with the boys Thirteen I showed up in basketball shorts a simple T, shoulder length hair and tennis shoes I walked to school that day My mother was still sleeping I hid from everyone you asked me if I liked girls and thats when I knew I belonged with the boys I needed these ******* boys Thirteen I showed up in black sweats a hoodie that avoided my curves like roadkill a half assed ponytail and running shoes I was invisible I replaced the gauze on my thighs that concealed the proof he was here I wore and extra shirt to hide the proof he was here I learned to use makeup in all the wrong places in hopes to prove he was never here His fists played symphonies across my ribcage He made songs of my pleads for forgiveness and apologies addressed to both him and god and I am still trying to forget the notes I am still trying to forget he explored my depths I am still trying to pretend that he was never here He said I could only belong to the boys if they could touch me Fourteen I thought the cough syrup would save me Fifteen He took the only shred of dignity I had left I listened as my only hope for a family was ripped limb from limb The child who's crescendo heartbeat originated from me was slaughtered at the price of a Versace ring and a fake I.D. Fifteen I thought I could hear him screaming Twenty I am defined by twenty different men These scars are proof of me nitpicking the pieces of them from my skin Proof that I am worth nothing more than a one night stand Twenty taught me: 1. No one will ever understand how empty you become when you're constantly filled by different men 2. A new canvas will not make you feel any cleaner 3. Hands feel like hands in the dark no matter who is behind them 4. After about the 3rd one night stand you will realize that 2 is the loneliest number 5. My mother is no longer proud to see me

80

I dont think you understand how empty you become when you're constantly filled by different men.

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Feb 4, 2014

Feb 4, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC

empty

I dont think you understand how empty you become when you're constantly filled by different men.

3

I own one spoon one knife one fork one bowl and one plate but I own two mugs in hopes we'll fall in love over a cup of coffee.

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Jan 31, 2014

Jan 31, 2014 at 5:49 AM UTC

One

I own one spoon one knife one fork one bowl and one plate but I own two mugs in hopes we'll fall in love over a cup of coffee.

7

we can sit up all night in some hotel room, curled beneath each other, listening to the sound of heartbeats and old cassette tapes. you are the kind of girl i want to make mixtapes for. when i see your smile, i collapse. you give me the faintest idea of what a heart attack might feel like and, god ****** i enjoy it. i remember you telling me that you haven’t felt purposeful or useful or strong enough to be either and i looked in your eyes and saw the only person who’d ever been strong enough to admit that their only purpose was to be purposeless. and if life is only lived to find promise, then what the **** is death for? i’ve seen god on lonely street corners where homeless men stare at buses wishing they had enough change in their cups to change things. i’ve seen happiness in the eyes of single motherscarrying three jobs and a failed marriage in the shopping bags they drag up the stairs. i’ve seen one bedroom apartments with more space to call home than you could ever find in that mansion on the hillside. and i’ve seen you look so helpless that the only help i could offer was to let you climb out of it yourself. i have trouble letting you be. i have trouble finding myself. i have trouble being anywhere but in your arms. there are disciples in your chest preaching off-balanced wisdom and there are people written across your skin all of them whispering, "you made me feel welcomed. you made me feel something.” and if you only understood how lonely the bus rides get or how hard it is to walk home in the dark carrying nothing but your heartbreak, then you would know what it meant when i told you that you are the only thing to ever make any of it worth it. i will write your name in my poetry until it no longer has a meaning. i will kiss you until my lips no longer make your knees weak. i was homeless until i met you. you handed me enough change to change things. i hope you don’t find better things to do with your day than to pass by my corner and smile. your are purposeful and you are useful and you never had to be either.

0

Jan 23, 2014

Jan 23, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC

Bryce Apodaca wrote this

we can sit up all night in some hotel room, curled beneath each other, listening to the sound of heartbeats and old cassette tapes. you are the kind of girl i want to make mixtapes for. when i see your smile, i collapse. you give me the faintest idea of what a heart attack might feel like and, god ****** i enjoy it. i remember you telling me that you haven’t felt purposeful or useful or strong enough to be either and i looked in your eyes and saw the only person who’d ever been strong enough to admit that their only purpose was to be purposeless. and if life is only lived to find promise, then what the **** is death for? i’ve seen god on lonely street corners where homeless men stare at buses wishing they had enough change in their cups to change things. i’ve seen happiness in the eyes of single motherscarrying three jobs and a failed marriage in the shopping bags they drag up the stairs. i’ve seen one bedroom apartments with more space to call home than you could ever find in that mansion on the hillside. and i’ve seen you look so helpless that the only help i could offer was to let you climb out of it yourself. i have trouble letting you be. i have trouble finding myself. i have trouble being anywhere but in your arms. there are disciples in your chest preaching off-balanced wisdom and there are people written across your skin all of them whispering, "you made me feel welcomed. you made me feel something.” and if you only understood how lonely the bus rides get or how hard it is to walk home in the dark carrying nothing but your heartbreak, then you would know what it meant when i told you that you are the only thing to ever make any of it worth it. i will write your name in my poetry until it no longer has a meaning. i will kiss you until my lips no longer make your knees weak. i was homeless until i met you. you handed me enough change to change things. i hope you don’t find better things to do with your day than to pass by my corner and smile. your are purposeful and you are useful and you never had to be either.

49

I am Ink sweet blood of the pen. I **** the flesh of parchment with savvy strokes of timeless musings. The poet is nothing without my inspiration to spur him forward forcing thought from mind into visual conceptions of reality. The written word is law and I am law We are one. The ink ,not the pen, is mightier than the sword. What is the pen without me? The ink. A wasted corpse space used on a desk worthless to be without ink. I alone am the soul of literature. I alone raise words from the dead minds of deceased philosophers. My word has capsized continents waged unwinnable wars I do not discriminate I have killed men women children. I have breathed life into centuries. I am eternity I am ink.

0

Jan 6, 2014

Jan 6, 2014 at 5:57 AM UTC

I am Ink

I am Ink sweet blood of the pen. I **** the flesh of parchment with savvy strokes of timeless musings. The poet is nothing without my inspiration to spur him forward forcing thought from mind into visual conceptions of reality. The written word is law and I am law We are one. The ink ,not the pen, is mightier than the sword. What is the pen without me? The ink. A wasted corpse space used on a desk worthless to be without ink. I alone am the soul of literature. I alone raise words from the dead minds of deceased philosophers. My word has capsized continents waged unwinnable wars I do not discriminate I have killed men women children. I have breathed life into centuries. I am eternity I am ink.

25

Dont you DARE have the audacity to say you were good to me when I can recall nothing but a nightmare.

0

Nov 8, 2013

Nov 8, 2013 at 1:53 AM UTC

Untitled

Dont you DARE have the audacity to say you were good to me when I can recall nothing but a nightmare.

2

People always ask me why I never attend school I want to tell them "I'm too emotionally vacant to care" "I know I'm not destined for great things" I'd announce "I'll be dead before I'm 20, I have no kids to look forward to and no desire to marry" So why should I spend 13 years of my life cooped up Learning the value of x when I cant even find value in waking up in the morning.

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Oct 23, 2013

Oct 23, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC

Jail cell

People always ask me why I never attend school I want to tell them "I'm too emotionally vacant to care" "I know I'm not destined for great things" I'd announce "I'll be dead before I'm 20, I have no kids to look forward to and no desire to marry" So why should I spend 13 years of my life cooped up Learning the value of x when I cant even find value in waking up in the morning.

9

3. I fall in love when I am lonely 4. I won't be able to look in the mirror and be happy 5. I can not fall in love after *** 6. My need for affection is insatiable. 7. I somehow convinced myself I will be the Anastasia to one of these Mr.Greys 8. I feel that two is the loneliest number 9. As long as you touch me I will love you 10. I wont be able to look in the mirror and be happy 11. I know I said that twice 1. I do not know how to love people properly. 2. This includes myself.

0

Oct 15, 2013

Oct 15, 2013 at 12:30 AM UTC

11 things I learned about myself in an instant

3. I fall in love when I am lonely 4. I won't be able to look in the mirror and be happy 5. I can not fall in love after *** 6. My need for affection is insatiable. 7. I somehow convinced myself I will be the Anastasia to one of these Mr.Greys 8. I feel that two is the loneliest number 9. As long as you touch me I will love you 10. I wont be able to look in the mirror and be happy 11. I know I said that twice 1. I do not know how to love people properly. 2. This includes myself.

11

I love you to pieces And that's where I've found myself In pieces Let's make peace of this I wish you had become the serendipity I was hoping for but that's the thing You can't look for serendipity It's in the definition But you defined me You'll find me under the willow tree where we met Wallowing in the self hatred and alcohol But I know you won't come looking for me You'll be reminding me that you always closed your eyes because you couldn't stand staring back at me I wasn't the pretty you were hoping for Just a place to park your manhood for a few nights During the warfare of words No matter what slander you bombard me with All I'll ever have to say about you Is that "I loved him"

0

Oct 5, 2013

Oct 5, 2013 at 5:08 PM UTC

pieces

I love you to pieces And that's where I've found myself In pieces Let's make peace of this I wish you had become the serendipity I was hoping for but that's the thing You can't look for serendipity It's in the definition But you defined me You'll find me under the willow tree where we met Wallowing in the self hatred and alcohol But I know you won't come looking for me You'll be reminding me that you always closed your eyes because you couldn't stand staring back at me I wasn't the pretty you were hoping for Just a place to park your manhood for a few nights During the warfare of words No matter what slander you bombard me with All I'll ever have to say about you Is that "I loved him"

18