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tabitha Dec 2020
i know a man    
he dresses like his coffee --
simple, mellow, sweet
he closes his eyes to isolate his tongue
he savors every drop of this steeped redemption,
brown earthy elixir
he sits, he writes poetry, his blue eyes both
pierce souls.....and hold them
i want to know what he writes in that book
this man that i know
he drinks beers on dive bar stools for hours just
to feel the alcohol rush his blood when he stands
he sings folk music when he is drunk on tequila, and
played guitar with such vigor once his fingers bled --
spattered red over the hollowed wood body of the guitar.
this man that i know,
with a quiet love for a good view and
good company,
he taught me how life in the road
could be peaceful
it's lovely to have lovely friends - April 16, 2017
tabitha Dec 2020
i have watched the two
of them love each other,
from too far away
for far too long

they stand, struck
by a venomous paralysis
inflicted by the fanged promises
he begged her to make. she made them to him,
because she wanted him to make them to her

but that was in the jungle, when they both were younger
when they both had a little too much sacred acid in their bellies
and adulthood was a struggle

now their love is stuck in the dunes
everything has changed
but still the same sand
no end in sight
anything that grows here
is sharp and puts up a fight

their conversations are a barren, cracked plain
they tread carefully, fear bespoke
her mother's back already broke

watching them love each other
has been like watching two north poles try to make the other south
tabitha Nov 2019
i'm in the plains, i'm John Wayne, and Jim's got me beaming
they wait for me, no one but me, to scream/shout/break the ice,
subzero prairie air sticks to my breath as i mutter
something about needing someone to love me
it melts my red-hot words into smoke as i speak
my lips crack but don't bleed
it freezes my wounds so they don't leak
good enough for me
i stay out there
for the great release...

Lucy showed me the river of rainbows running deep in my veins,
Molly paraded me through the paths of pleasure saying,
"it's yours to choose, whenever you please."
Jim taught me that good things come with time, just in time
my vices / my mind whisperers

then my palms pop with static, my brain identifies havoc
a humbling wave of logic, there like a zealous paramedic,
snips a clean line through the icy glaze of my delusion.
back from whence i came. this bar. that stool. that night. acting cool.
i come to my own rescue.

emotionalism: subdued
heart's ripping flesh: re-glued
i know i've been runnin'...
not away from but toward somethin,
because the avett brothers warned me about that in '07
i chase, i glide, i soar
searching for something...
something...
not heaven...

i, in all of my aspiring ecstatic toughness,
i   -----  crave
             more:
a wicked-good fight beat
molten gold down my throat and then i feel it in my feet
sweet sweet sweet then down down deep
free it, release it, strike thunder
why do we hold ourselves back?
tabitha Aug 2019
i am a runaway

i forgot to bring my toothbrush

i left my mother
because i had to leave my father
i left my sisters
because i had to leave my brothers

i don't use toothpaste because of fluoride

i deserted my sorrows,
so i could grow new ones
i let them plant seeds
became tumbling little weeds

i forgot to floss

but they were mine
and so were you
and you
and you
until you weren't

menthol makes me nauseous

i still curse your name when there is no one around
i can still taste your stale lies
rising like sewage
lodging between the cracks in my teeth

my jaw grinds in my sleep

some people claim halitosis is not a real condition
those people don't know what it's like
to be left alone,
with a belly full of acid,
tobacco on your tongue,
and a mouthful of anger
the memory of an ex-lover is like bad breath
tabitha Jul 2018
always take your shoes off before you cross a threshold
              you've been carrying your dirt around with you
                leave it at the door
         
wear your face mask
wash your neck
ask for no sugar
hold yourself center                        
   
                                               this city's crazy, child

be grateful for the sun, and getting to be outside
       buildings do not satiate the wild within
         when the sun kisses your face, feel loved

don't drink the tap
try to keep your bones intact
keep your eyes open
wear a helmet

                                               this city's crazy, child

speak and laugh as loudly as you want
      set the bar high, so that growing up doesn't make you silent
        the world should know that you are here
          you're so beautiful

wash your dishes
sweep your floors
grant your own wishes
lock the door             

                                                thi­s city's crazy, child

 try not to breathe in the fumes
don't go to school for something you don't love! ....
                                                                                           or do
                                                                                           who am i to say
    but from what i can see,                                      
                you have patience for your elders, child
                              i wish they had patience for you
tabitha Apr 2018
You
are the airplane, 
Traveling faster than the wreckage of noise
you leave behind,

You
Low-flying roar

Shaking the cores
of youths on rooftops
emptying beer bottles
into their bellies
Confusing birds,
******* on your territory,
an audio stream of noise pollution,
Claiming the sky as your own

You
The shining relic of the millennium,
An aerodynamic wonderamongst Midwest wheat,
The technological feat
of bored men with a hungry need to
prove themselves (W)right

The birds will not thank you
Neither will the families with
ticky tacky shelters plopped beside the tarmac
“Worse than living by the highway,” they say,
“I would live by the sea, if I could have it my way”
(a different kind of jet blue white noise)

The people you carry,
we are the only thankful souls
Being checked, scanned, and crammed
into tight places is
a preliminary condition I have lived with

You’re breaking the sky,
but you’re taking me places I could never be
otherwise
tabitha Dec 2017
this place
is a busy place
there are people everywhere, and lexuses and rolls royces jam
the interstates, with their intermittent honking and inconsistent blinker use.
the quiet you find here, is in the hills, on the shore of ice cold waters at sunset.
on the streets everyone looks
from their lined eyes,
curtained
behind glossy hair.
stunning, ornamental flesh bags trouncing down the boulevard.
they have similar design. long legs. rabid for fame.
pillow-y lips foaming at the corners.
i feel
regularly devoured / rarely enjoyed.
forgive my generalizations
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