i'm sorry that you don't understand...
really no...!
#metoo
so no, **** that
I just sat here, and listened to an ******* say inappropriate things to me
you did nothing.
you said nothing.
doesn't matter if you "didn't think it was so bad" or if you "didn't hear it" I responded.  told him it was inappropriate
do you honestly think I'm making this up? YOU heard it happen.
*******. and him.

I AM MERCURY THE MESSENGER GOD
I DO HAVE WINGS ON MY HELMET
AND CAN COMMUNICATE WITH THE BIRDS AS WELL AS MORTALS
BUT LETS NOT FORGET INSECTS
THEY LOVE ME AND MY AIR TOO
AIR NEEDS ME AND I NEED AIR
THERE IS A GOD OF PHYSICS
FORGOTTEN HIS NAME
HE INSPIRES PEOPLE IN THE FUTURE
TO COME UP WITH BROWNIAN MOTION
AND KINETIC THEORY OF GASES
AIR HAS NO TIME
AIR DANCES JUST LIKE ME
BUT I CAN T REMEMBER WHO TAUGHT WHO


c marie liz forte aka marie forte or liz forte

Full cart
Forgotten wallet
Poetic justice
Minimal profit

Nothing purchased
Nothing gained
Small wonder
I remain sane

I’ve grown up in grocery stores
Admiring their hearty stock
In my story, the constant lore
Is stable silence followed by rock

So loud, and yet so quiet
Mind spinning, logic ignored
Emotions twirling, guiding, lying,
What is my hungry heart for?

Amongst shoppers, I am a dreamer
Amongst haves, I am have not.
The silent soldiers fighting a war
Against the accumulating ***

Obsessive comes close to scratching
What my mind is like when nervous
I want what I want, so I’m asking
And asking has thus far, been worthless

If only love that eludes my grasp
Were but a loaded shopping cart
I’d run to my apartment and run back
My happiness, some cold pop tarts.

Alas, the vitality I seek,
The stimulant that’s most stimulating
It makes me dumb, it makes me weak,
And requires calculated manipulating

Of which I am not capable,
Or at least, strongly averted from.
To myself, I remaiin faithful
Even though I am so dumb.

Muster up a little patience,
Muscle up, shut up, be a man.
Mysterious mature, that’s the cadence
That’s the gold standard panned.

I glimpse it, from time to time
Across the colored movie screen.
These men succeed and I often fail,
But what does my own failure mean?

Is it me? Or is it them?
Or am I close, but not quite there?
Will my fatigue be what makes me
Depressed enough to seem like I don’t care

So my annoyingness, gone, in thin air?
So my emotional longings will be bare?
So into eyes I could finally stare
And not always ask, what’s in there?

What do you see, looking at me?
I never know, until I’ve chosen
To let my selfish heart unleash
Until it’s finally cracked wide open

Until you see me as I’ve chosen
To see myself, full of erosion
Wasted space, a dreadful ocean
Of empty thoughts and rugged lotion.

Talking so much, never saying.
Giving so much, never reaping.
Sleeping so much, never dreaming.
Running so much, never leaving.

Chasing so much, only finding
What I’ve found is not astounding
My horrible mind, abandoning reality
Leaving everyone once they’ve found me.

Refusing life rafts while I’m drowning,
Breathing in water, heart is pounding,
Self inflicted, always counting,
Choosing pain, refusing mouthpiece.

Loving so much, never caring.
Caring so much, never sharing.
Sharing so much, never connecting.
Making connections, shortly empty.

Meditating so much, never praying.
Laying so much, making me lazy.
Letting my emotions control me so much,
I’m selfish, never learning, never changing, crazy.

friends or frenemies (feminist safety instruction card)

a coastal flight, boredom has me riffle through the various
offerings in the seat pocket, and on the safety instruction card
come across this...
<•>

she’s blunt, direct, proffers me an either/or choice,
game on either way, pick door A or B, up to me,
she’s no lady, but a hipster shooter using semi-automatics,
three lines of verse, rat-a-tat-tat, your guts spilling,
hoho you’re dead or kicked in the *****, at the minimum

if only she knew what she was up against

I got words for which there ain't no antidote,
can whip her into a lovers frenzy with cooing metaphors,
slap her with stingers so that she’ll retreat hasty to another site

friends or frenemies, how juvenile, how sweet, how absolutely
childish girl, no interest, play in my arena, I have studied with
the masters and lionesses and offer you no terms but this:

be my lover

extend your reach, speak slow and soft, open and willing,
my sonnets demand close attention, slowing and holding,
building links into chains that make boundaries into a single
tie that binds, not for now and not for later but for the only measure that poets alone command: forever

concede and give up that conceit that tough is a defense,
lose everything for rewards you have yet to witness, conceive,
in my circle is in my circle where the intuitive rules and gasps of shocking come so frequent, they are normal breathing

be my lover

knowing that we will never meet never see the inside of
the furnace that can be dreamed-created with tonguing verbs,
adjectives that dance intertwining pas de deux,
oh my femme fatale, my agent provocateur,
let us learn together how,  to teach each other
come,
will be the only action word ever required

come
come write me
come together
come close my eyes
come open them wider
come free me to be a one two

anger is false brevity - loving is the languid forever languishing flames of golden burning orange caramel, word chips of
liquidity that verses, penned passioned calculations,
see how takes many stalks needy to  birth bound into a
single sheaf, count the wips of smoky wispy slivers,
combine and separate, the calculus of recombinant,
offering a unique poem with a momentary invitation,
an equation of equality and there is no diverse different


<•>

the first class steward sh/wakes the dozing body
with an apology;
“landing soon, would you like some breakfast before we land?”

the sleepy soul replies,
come to me with water,
just water...for my dream

i hate math
not because it's boring
or it requires work
but because it is the thing
that causes my mom and i
to fight
you won't realize this
thinking it's only a shallow opinion
but to me
math is a wall
separating me
from love

Why should you limit yourself to being just pretty?
Don't be just pretty.

Be a storm, beautiful, dark, intelligence flashing across your eyes like lightning and a voice as loud as thunder. Be a storm and never be silent.

Be a forest, rooted, wise, strong and unmovable in the force of opposition and yet a dancer in the wind. Be a forest, and loyal to your land.

Be the ocean, glittering, mysterious, captivating thousands of hearts and countless lives in your allure. Be the ocean, and be ruthless.

Be nature. I guarantee nothing will get you farther.

I made a bowl of soup for myself tonight.
Red bean, kale, and quinoa.
I toasted two slices of bread,
buttered them,
let them cool.
I planned on dunking them
in the soup
to sop up leftover broth.

While the canned food heated
in the red saucepan
on the first burner
to the right,
I did simple tasks.
Recycled bottles from days before,
put away the dishes in the drying rack,
fed the cat.

I paced back and forth,
in my purple socks,
from my bedroom
to the kitchen,
listening to an old record
that sounds like nostalgia.

I did simple tasks.
Small, achievable things.
Self care comes
in many forms.

Being lazy
is the best activity