Our lives are battle fields
Egressing from the womb with war paint on our faces
Soldiers live there life to fight not flight
Yet, some of us are not strong enough
We are weaker than the rest,
Carrying paper wrists and our weapons filled with blade edged bullets
Looking for an identity

We our the unknown warriors
Sulking upon tarnished territories
We will sleep in guilt ridden graves,
Apologizing to our mothers and our fathers for not wanting to fight anymore

They'll weep and beg the heavens to send you back
But you're an angel now
There is no reason for war,
There is no reason to be sad anymore

Keep savior to your paper wrist
Keeping savior in your heavenly spirit as well
It's so easy to become lost in time that you can't even bare the thought of going back

It's so comforting to be a coward, to just stop fighting.

Ever since I was a child I wanted to be kissed by a black angel

Letting death herself take me beyond the veil, just to experience what afterlife really was

To figure out what it was like to fly amongst craters of isolation, and become one with the universe

I wanted to experience every last drop , as I let her sable wings conceal my inanimate body as she approaches me with open arms

We'll fly through dimensions of breath taking scenery with the notion of me one day seeing the world

She whispers, "What have you always wanted to be?"

I tell her, "I just want to be a bird."

Instead of being six feet under I'd rather be six feet up

Wings that defy gravity as they glide across alluring orange skylines that are painted upon our universe

I want my feathers embroidered in the constellations so that I too can be beautiful

Sheltered nest protect me from my biggest insecurities

Sturdy branches wrap me up like warm blankets pulling on the heartstrings of mother nature making her feel envious

Leaping off splintered birch bark into spacious reality

Drifting from unwanted complications hovering over graceful fields of solitude

Hollow bones sit like broken rose petals so delicate in the nest but so strong in the wind

I was kissed by a black angel

Finally,
I am free.

Nanu, I had a dream last night that you came back

From being gone almost 3 years

We embraced and I told you I missed you so much

It was bittersweet, really.

I had seen you, and then you disappeared.

Like a shadow, when the sun decides to sleep.

I could've slept eternally knowing I would've been with you; forever

I remember when you were first diagnosed with lung cancer.

You held a smooth stone and told me, "Emily this stone is going to heal me one day."

You told me how it would make you better.

I remember one thanksgiving you gave me a glass of your wine

It was, bittersweet.

Vinegary as it ate away my tastebuds
Sweet like strawberries marinading in sugar, only.. Wine is made out of grapes... You taught me that.

Its funny, you used to let me sit upon your lap when you mowed the lawn, it was my own mistake for crashing it into the fence.

It was, bittersweet.

I got to drive a lawn mower and you had to fix the fence.

I look back to how happy you were on the sun porch in the summer heat, especially when lightening would strike the area around us,

I'd hide my face in your tarnished sweater

It was, bittersweet.

This morning I stood in the snow

Inhaling the heavy smoke of my marlboro cigarette

Weeping as I stared at the sky,

Then I remembered, you didn't disappear, you just went on vacation for awhile.

It's bittersweet, really.

Dear Grandfather,
You are missed more than a thousand Chinese lanterns,
but I know you are not lost, nor are you off track,
I'm sure you float among the stars
sipping sweet red wine on mars
& play cards on the dark side of the moon

I still hope that one day God will grant you with furlough
to escape the bony handed captivity of reapers,
so that you can sit next to your loved ones,
and we can have coffee party's at 6 am
and ice cream socials at 9

I'd apologize for weeping even when you told me not too,

I'll always remember that you are the diamond glints on the snow,
and that you don't sleep so we can watch king of the hill and HBO all night long

and when your furlough is over
I'll know that when I wake up the next the day that you did not die,
I'll just call it going on vacation,
I've always wanted to go to space,
and one day I will see you there,
and we can surf meteors or make memories in the constellations.

but over all I'll always think of you when it rains,
and I'll try my best not cry when I visit your grave.

Always know I love you,
You're Granddaughter,
Emily.

Drama

It's actions speak louder than words

Because instant messaging is just an unspoken utterance and throwing the first punch is much more than a notable deed.

People think that a physical altercation makes you who you are to become in your future.
I think thats a reasonable fight but I'm just so ****** into drama that I'm going to deny it anyways.

Because It isn't always the drama so much as the person who feeds off of it.

I am one of those people who if you give me drama I will take it in a breathe it out like its my oxygen supply.

Like the only thing I breathe is what that ***** said to me last week

A few people made me realize that drama sticks by you, and that Karma will one day kick my *** for it.

So to all the people who I have threatened I want to say you don't have to worry about me kicking your *** anymore

To all the people that I wrote a Facebook status about you're now more nothing but a document lost in cyber space.

To my dad because he had to put up with my **** for 14 ******* years

To all the teachers who gave me a detention because I harassed them or another student because I am just that shallow.

I'm sorry.
I am a drama queen.
I am a gossip girl
I am the teenage version of Perez Hilton.

Because sometimes my actions, speak louder than words.

Dreams,

symphonies of sounds, and arrangements of metaphoric surrealism

the hibernation of ones mysterious thoughts and deepest actions

a psychedelic wonderland of white rabbits frolicking down holes,
a time warp of madmen
 the thought of being chased by dark shadows
in the mind of monsters that hide under the foot of the bed.


Dreams, 

a stew of emotions boiling and biting at our ankles,
a *** of acid-spiked visions so unclear 

a world where billows of color mix and mutate

the tall man chasing us young children through scenes of disruption and
everything within us as mortal beings 
where buddhist pray and the sun shines,
leaping over peace pigmented hills,
filled with hysteria and delirium 

the dreams that have left me uneasy and the dreams that leave me wanting more

Kindergarten, finger painting daisies and taking naps while listening to Lullabies
You probably remember running through the tall grass chasing after fluttering butterflies and catching greasy frogs by the reservoir
You get older, and the feelings change you still think boys have cooties and that barbies are still the bomb. You were never interested in Ken Dolls.
Think back to the time when you were tiny enough to get piggy back rides from your dad, or when your hair was just starting to get long enough for your mother to braid it into intertwining strands of golden hair.
You never worried about milk mustaches or fruit punch stained shirts, all you worried about is when you had to shower or go to bed.

Then you grow up--
Those two words make my stomach churn as they roll off of my tongue and into the open air.
Air that is no longer innocent, no it’s filled with cigarette smoke and the stench of Whiskey and Ginger ale.
You no longer play with barbies, but wish to look like them.
Honey Blonde hair, size 0 waist, and a helluva wardrobe.
Those Ken Dolls you so very much hated are now trying to get into your pants.
When we were younger we wanted to be like our parents, old.
We wanted to wear makeup, and jewelry and the whole SHA BANG!
Then we did and it ***** doesn’t it?
Some are worried that they won’t live to see tomorrow,
others are worried about college and grades.
But if you do decide to “Grow up.” I have one words for you.... Dont.

I wonder what Heavens like
Is it white with fluttering doves and shiny golden gates that tower 7 feet above the clouds?
Or is it outside the atmosphere where a stars twinkle is so bright its blinding?
Are you suppose to walk up an ivory stairway or fly with your feathered white angel wings?

I see Heaven as a place you go when you are loved
A place where you don't have to be good to get in or bad to get kicked out
It's where your guardian angels gather and interact among the holy gods of Allah or Our Creater himself
Heaven is the clouds passing daintly and lazily by
Caught up in the leisure winds, grinding against the azure sky

Where the demons hide beneath the entry way, laying low
Wishing they were loved like the rest of the afterlife that lives in Heaven

It hurts that I can't hold you,
Tightly
Caressingly
lovingly

you can't love me because you're head over heels for other girls
who aren't me
never will be me
you'll never love me

I love you, you don't know that though
lets keep it that way
so when I cry myself to sleep
I know I won't hold you accountable
in my dreams

You've finally managed to make me believe you don't care as much as I thought you did
Yellin' when you get mad
Stompin' around the house
"Maybe I shouldn't care" rolls off your tongue
The statement that engraved a scar on top of my shattered heart
I may be fourteen but I still have feelings
you sit and sip your coffee as I look into your sad eyes
Ever since she left 4 months before, you've changed
Rationalizing yourself everyday stating you're over her and have moved on
I believe it, but do you?
Love drunk for the last 22 years, I can tell when you speak of her
you're words tumble and roar yet you never speak ill of her.
I've been reading your ****** expressions you can't tell me I don't know what you're feeling
when you're face is pretty much a buffet of emotion.
I'm sorry, that you're my father and I love you so much it hurts
I'm sorry I yell back but thats only because I'm short tempered
I'm sorry that I have anger issues and I say things I don't mean
I'm sorry you have to deal with me everyday
I'm sorry I'm moving with her,
I'm sorry that you can't be happy
I'm sorry I can't fix it.
I'm sorry.

I want to be a poet
I want to paint pictures in people minds
Use my fingers as paintbrushes
The palm of my hand my canvas
I want to be able to trace my words with utensils of artistry
Make tedious muddled letters become beautiful pieces that tumble off the tongue with ease and elegance
-
I've always wanted to be a poet
Ever since I was younger I would create stories
Let me make a memory of when I was just a little girl toppling over piles of crispy brass leaves that daddy raked in piles
Dancing in the rain as it melted my insecurities away from my expanded existence
-
My mother told me I would make a good poet
Look at my master piece mommy
I used to place words upon words telling you that I loved you as much as down comforter kittens or saying you reminded me of pollen covered petals that disembark on my rose flushed cheeks
-
Look mommy I finally wrote you a poem
But you can't read it because I don't need to to hear the wrath of your rage
Terrifying roars flying out of your mouth as if I'm being being pushed off a rocky edge free falling from sandy ridges and broken dreams
Fretting that you'll take it the wrong way but sometimes the wrong way is the right way to make it your way.

But mommy I've decided I am a poet,
my fingers my paintbrush& palms are my canvas.

The land of the free and home of the brave,
Nothing but a pathetic attempt at humane priority.
America is a sad attempt of Patriotism and Rationality
Our Government is a fatuous ill-minded joke.
Mr. President you are the political icon that sums up this idiotic unsystematic society.
In all serious this country is a disgrace to the pledge of allegiance "Under God, Indivisible, With Liberty and Justice for All."
Reality is that isn't how it is at all,
If it was Liberty and Justice for all things would be different, not ignorant
I do not stand for the pledge thinking the same as my peers..

I pledge my allegiance to same *** couple getting married without hesitation of the system raining down on them, it's like humans are afraid of there own anatomy who cares if a man loves another man they're happy

I pledge my allegiance to Faith and Spirituality, there should be no fear with God, there should be no hate in Allah, there should be no judgement to any.

To ****** with teeth that shine, lips that curl a welcome mat spread across the slim grin they portray, Mr. President should have had you put away a long time ago.
You are not welcome here..

It's not even just the President, its us as a society terrorizing one another for committing acts that we are supposed to be able to do freely.

I am disappointed in our Country,
There are places around the world that have half of we have
Yet still seeming to know what the concept of working together means
Better than we do, and we have the audacity to call ourselves the
Home of the brave, and the land of the free.

Mothers,

They're suppose to be your superhero,
Your best friend whom you can speak with at any hour,
Your biggest advocate,
-
The woman who does all your laundry
Now, you may have made me smell like Gain and Lavender dryer sheets
but you made me feel like my own worst enemy
especially when you slipped out words of rotten dimension
glaring at me through the eyes of disappointment and shame

regardless of this monstrosity that you call a "parenting skill"

I have been forced to listen to you ***** and moan about how the only reason you haven't ******* killed yourself yet it because you are a
--GODLY CATHOLIC WOMEN WHO HASN'T BEEN TO CHURCH SINCE 1989--
you say there is a light at the end of the tunnel

I say you are full of ****

when you preach about how your childhood was drab and terrible because your mother called you fat and a zero so I guess there really isn't a reason for me to be mad at all for you doing the same ******* thing to me as she did to you.

She ripped you of everything fair in the godforsaken  world so I'm guessing it's only fair to return the favor to your FAT 16 years old daughter who has grown into a perennial of self loathing and late night smoke breaks

you took family road trips and created day time guilt trips and late night auto collisions.

You remember don't you?
When you thought I'd keep my ******* mouth shut when you set off on a rant about my father, the man you loved for 22 years and through tears and clenched teeth we ate heavily illuminated sheet metal and with every heaving breath I took all I could swallow was your *******.

All I ever wanted was for you to be happy,
I tried so hard to put everyone first and to be a good ******* person

As a daughter, who has rarely felt anything less than your cold shoulder has wanted nothing more than your love and affection, all I had asked for was your nurturing attention and all I got was an angry mother yelling at me asking why I even came home last night through a door that you told me to close.

Swollen eyes told me that your words burn hotter than my Pall Malls as they both sit in the pit of my chest

My hunger pangs remind me that my mother doesn't think I'm beautiful in my size 13 jeans but would look much, much better in a size 8

I have always been so afraid to make you sad but now I realize that you won't ever be happy

you will never be content with me nor yourself

nothing I do will ever be good enough for your high set standards and all I was doing was looking into an empty pit of false hope that one day you'd be a good mother

and I sit, and I think about all the **** you put me through

and with each drag of my cigarette I grow to not give a **** what you think, but one day i hope you can find peace with at least yourself
because when you need someone to sympathize over your petty life

I WILL NOT BE THERE

You call it selfish,

I call it returning the ******* favor.

The slices I stow are on my wrist in a row,

they will turn to quiet grieving scars,

even if my heart is crying out for help.

No one can hear me, no one would care.

No one would ask me, no one would dare.

Coming off as a tough girl, they are deceived.

I am really just scared, but I am care free.

I fret the day I face my fears because it is a mystery.

You shall fret too, because one day there will be a note to read,

that thanks my friends and family,

I’ll apologize for my being and again I will thank you all so much.

At the end of the day, I’ll be dead from pills, drugs, and such.

Many will realize that this happy girl was sad,

Now they might feel like this was all of there bad.

I lied to everyone, saying “I’m fine.”

So it’s my bad, I had crossed the line.

Don’t care, don’t mourn for it was a mistake that I was even born.

You soon will find my used utensils,
such as my scissors, bands, and razorblades.

Take good care they were my treasure.

The death I chose was a mix of two.

The pills are on the dresser, and the razor is in my hand.

Please forgive me, I just wanted to be free!
Is that a lot for my family and friends to see?
Disappointment is probably on your mind,

I know how one could get confused,
when their daughter says she’s fine.

When I am purging for perfection, hoping I’ll soon die.

Hugging that cold porcelain, puking up my problems.

I step onto the scale, and I cry at what I see,
For I have an addiction, that is slowly killing me.

My friends would try to help, but I told them I didn’t need it.

I kept things to myself, so I wouldn’t cry for help.

Help was never given, because I would sit and sin in silence,

People thought I was “fake” for the way I was feeling,

That’s where they were wrong, they thought I wouldn’t do it, well look now.

I’m dead, and my life ended with Suicide.

It's a disease
Manipulative and painful
Traveling through the veins of innocent people
Wandering through the genes of many
Its cancer.

I look at the shelf where I keep your pictures, figurines, and such
I think of the red wine made with your soft Sicilian touch
Sitting under the grape vines, reminiscing great times,I read the poem that you left for us to read and it tells me not to weep

they smoke ***
its the end of the world
as the THC enters there bodies
the leftovers trickle into mine
who gives a ****?

your losing your mind as if you found out
for the first time i’ve been high
your going insane
take a deep breath
close your eyes
open them; its a new day

Ever since I was a child I would hear the wind whisper my name

Let the music of the heavens utter the tune of my youth

I wanted the cool breeze to swiftly flow over the delicate tiger lily that sleeps in the loam of my mothers garden bed

Let yellow flecks of it's sweet nectar disembark upon my rose flushed cheeks

My bare feet trot through the abundant marshy terrain

Jumping into the untouched sapphire water, watching the ripple in the waves empower the subtle pond

I want to live in green.

Because green is more than just a color, it's a way of life

Green is the leaves that produce us air in which we inhale giving us viability

Green is the sky which reflects onto the sun thus creating eternal being

Green is the tranquility of everyday life bringing us closer as individuals verses grouping us in pointless classifications

Green is not only a color, she is a person

She is the creator of Earths viridescence

Founder of all things beautiful,

Producer of all sounds wholesome

All this time I found out, she has been whispering my name.

I walk in the front door after not seeing you for nearly three months
I see your eyes wander my body head to toe as if there was an expired inspection sticker plastered on my forehead
One of the first things you ask me is, "Hows that diet going?" 
I could see it in your expression 
when I seriously say to you that I am a full figured woman and I'm proud
You simply stared into my eyes letting me know that isn't a good thing.

Once upon a time you thought I was beautiful 
When my skin was tightly stretched across my olive skin
collarbones like a razors edge
hip bones like a needles point
In your eyes I was perfect
My heart told me I was beautiful
The mirror in my mind told me I was too big to be beautiful
So here you are, knocking me down, piece by piece
Telling me the same things my brain did. 
Saying that I should just stop eating 
Left trying to sew back the broken pieces of my self esteem with these dull needles. 


Your words replay in my mind like a broken record
"I'm not even asking you to be skinny."
Rolls off your tongue like poison in not only your mouth but your eyes when you look at me.
Skinny, that word makes my bones jello and my skin crawl
Skinny, the adjective that you so badly want me to be described as.
Skinny, makes summer and laughing with boys a lot easier
Skinny, would make eating less of a guilt thing and more of a survival thing
Skinny is what you want me to be.
Let me tell you that looking like a plastic make-believe children’s toy is not the definition of beautiful
Just remember, Bones are for dogs, and meat is for men.

your mean words slur
as they're 
trickling out of your mouth

like a waterfall of wounding

locution from your sober thoughts

but your drunken actions
 make me uneasy
as you stand there
 swiftly swaying
like a 
feather caught in the wind


at this very moment in time I think I hate you

your heart is no longer real

the blood flow that is long gone

is now diluted with cheap *****

the nasty habits you have gained 
are slowly dissipating the oxygen

that now gently dribbles through your 
inanimate lungs
and pains your ****** liver


your sunken eyes are glossy

eyes that used to be bright blue

have lost there hue and converted to a dull gray


you may have sober thoughts

but you'll always have drunken actions

You see her over there?
Lucy,
the one with kaleidescope eyes.
she being chased by the egg man, no. The Walurus.

As she runs by the church where Eleanor Ribgy is picking up the rice,
a yellow submarine is submerging into a sea of green.

Imagine all the people around her saying theres no heavens
and that they tell the Walurus to let it be.
Wait, --Let her be.

Little darling, its to cold to be outside to be running!
Can't we all just come together?
Don't be afraid!

---OH NO---  
Her name isn't Lucy!

It's Jude.

The Marines
The Few, The Proud
The Brave, the Courageous
Disciplined, Proper
From Paris Island Soldiers to Vietnam Vets

Its a position for freedom
a job for the fearless
Protecting our country day in and day out

1992 to 1994
Dads unit secured naval ships
sweat, tears and will power
guns blazing with 875 rounds a minute

1966 to 1968
His dad served in Vietnam
blood, gore and gunshots
flack jackets, an honored purple heart

learn to **** and not get killed
and never proffer anything less than the best
you’re there to out stand and defend
to honor, to provide

One day I’ll be standing here, in my dress blues
with my hair neatly slicked back, tight in a bun
I’ll have stories to tell my children
and I’ll watch the Military channel with my father
but first
I’ll learn to disregard the fear
of death staring you in the face
or the sudden urge to run
then I’ll wonder,
putting up my gun, aiming, and shooting for my dreams
of being an American Marine

Flashing c o l o r s, and ongoing music it hits me in the face like a wave of static electricity.

The ecstacy strikes my taste buds like sugar and neuro toxins dancing on my tongue.

The smell is foul of puke and *****. Teens are raving,
while the music is playing. Grinding against one another like a mortar and pestle.

Watching an influenced man try to get with a vulnerable women.
Taking advantage of every drop off alcohol that goes into the women’s veins,

there is no blood left, just firewater.

I've got gnarly bruises,
that come from angry nights and drunken prophecies,

I've got raindrop tears,
that fall like meteors on my bed sheets,

I'm itching to get out of this place,
with instilling fear and a question my body can't let go of,

what if I cannot find where I belong,
like a stray dog wandering the streets at 2 am?

I am nothing but a fool in love with apprehension,
it's a love/hate relationship with myself.

I catch my thoughts as they fly away,
trying to find a vessel with feelings to fall in love with.

Even I get sick of my thoughts,
they're filled with old memories and home wreckers

What is it
the boys with the big brown eyes
the ones that are skinny and tall
lanky and long
what is it
with me making best friends
with these boys who make fun
what is it
the boys with dark skin
and dark everything sometimes within?
I daydream the night away thinking of us as one
but what they don't know is the whole story
of these "daydreams" I have
what is it, thats wrong with me?

About 4 years ago you both looked me in the eyes and told me you'd never get a divorce.

About 3 years later, it happened

You told her that you weren't happy, she cried you cried, done.

One doesn't just... Stop loving someone after 22 years of being together

The bond that you two had between your love was everlasting

I remember how you would brush her hair and she would cuddle up against your husky figure

I miss hearing you say "I love you," to someone besides me

I miss coming home to a family

I don't miss the broken home, which belongs to the now broken family

I don't go home much, why go home when there isn't anything waiting.

You left to live in New Hampshire with your best friend of 26 years.

I stayed with Dad.

I miss you,

The other day I found a picture, of you feeding her the glossy white wedding cake

Her neon blue eyes looked up at yours

You were grinning, you were both so, in love.

What happened?

I don't know

Just tell me,

I don't know,

Please...

I did it for you guys.

What the ****.

I didn't ask for this.

At first, I told you it didn't bother me.

Probably because, it didn't.

I couldn't wait for her to leave.

But now, I just want my mother.

I want my mother, and my father.

I want to know that you two sleep in the same room

I want to know that you love each other

I want to know that this won't happen again

Even though, it's too late now.

You're there.

You're here.

I'm stuck in the middle.

And I'm not happy.

You promised.

I open my eyes trying to find a new reality
Waking up one morning and to you not being home
Closet stripped and decorative picture frames that presented us a family were gone
Getting up to a broken home felt more like an invitation to being secluded from everything I once knew
There was no more dinners with mom,
No more cooperation
No more family
No more happiness

So I close my eyes tightly, huddling in warm blankets not thinking about the frigid November air seeping through my white chipped window pane


1 year, 4 months since you left

It feels like just yesterday
The cooking channel is on t.v,
you had just finished making dinner,
You're sitting in dads lap, and he combs your strawberry hair as if he's handling a queen,

--but--

You were a queen who got you were knocked off your throne,

I miss being with you
I miss being able to come home a smell the scent of your perfume
I crave your warm hugs and simple texts telling me to wash the dishes even though I ******* hate washing the dishes

I miss you
Even though you've been gone for officially 1 year and 4 months  
I still wake up every morning hoping you'll be there
Looking for all your clothes in the closet
Hoping the pictures of us will be hanging on the walls

I wish it was November 15th again

Just maybe if I could turn back time I could've saved this broken home
But it's too late now, you're gone and I'm now stuck looking for my new reality.