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"Dear God,
I want to be a poet."

I want to speak in silver metaphors that slither into ear canals and seep into cortexes.
Words that turn eyes to a new perspective,
that crack your skull wide open with honest art.
Reality and creativity,
Taped together and painted over in the truest colours of life.

I want to speak in that powerful, yet still human, voice.
To quake the ground beneath you until you are shaken up
and you shed that exoskeleton of hurt,
or fear,
or doubt,
or ignorance.
I want all of that lifeless skin to loosen its grip around you,
and not bind you so tightly to complacency.

I want to establish communities of words,
that take you in as their own.
Delivered so rhythmically that your own pulse will begin to race inside of you,
parallel to the lines I've written.

I want to make you run with these words,
feel the winds against you,
push past the resistance and onto freedom,
as every weight lifts off of you.
So I can show you that your shoulders were not made to carry boulders,
your eyes were not meant for harsh tears,
and that everyone needs a break sometimes....

I want to be a poet because if I know the truth, I want to share it.
Wear proclamations on the palms of my hands,
hope radiating from my worn skin.

I want to write poems because I know that we're all human,
so why hide it?
Why hide our emotions when we can let them take flight?
If we've gotten through the tangled mess, why can't we reach back and help the next hero climb though?

I want to show love.
I want to understand,
I want to now who I am.

"Dear God,
Thank you for giving me a notebook as a best friend,
and giving me a copy of yours.
I know that no matter how far off I stray with my imagination,
I will always know what is truth."

I wanted to be a poet,
but now,

*I just want to be me
Note: Prayers are in quotations because the rest of the peom is directed toward readers, or audience for spoken word.
 Nov 2014 Jodie LindaMae
Mariah
The date draws nearer
to the one I should avoid so
I don’t want to crush my bones.
I have grown 4 inches
in the span of 5 years;
lost 8 teeth.
Those pearls,
falling to the sand
out of my bleeding mouth,
and the jellyfish shocks my foot.
My eyes were fixed on things
I could not keep,
places I could not stay.
Didn’t I know enough?
Didn’t I see enough blood
running down from the windows
of luxurious towers?
Didn’t I see the smoke -
the funnels,
Applying tragedy to beauty.
On the balcony, in my mourning suit,
I cannot view the ocean from here.
So I go,
down the stairs, across the street,
and a radio’s tune, blown by the wind,
reaches me.
I was supposed,
expected to weep.
No other sound could interrupt
the silence and secrecy
between every person in the room
who knew what the other was thinking.
I should have fallen asleep
waiting for the tide.
We gave up on death,
just as we had in life.
I wanted to pull the sun down
by a string,
so I could dream.
Let me go on, do not stir me.
The crash, thunder, light,
All reminders that the earth
was still breathing, alive,
and I do not want to be.
How could I resist such an invitation?
But how dare I after this?
And everything was suddenly changed,
I could feel the loss, in my legs,
in my stomach and veins.
I could see it in the sunset.
How can you leave behind all of this,
and still take so much with you.
We crossed the state line,
back home and the distance
lends a hand to me.
Maybe it was fear, maybe regret,
maybe forgery, maybe innocence.
But I never saw what it was,
why they laughed,
why at the mention of your name,
my stomach clenched.
I never get too close to the fire,
or stayed in the sun for too long.
Many have joined,
many will in peace.
How strange is it,
numbers placed on days,
time placed on light and orbit -
It is too long, too much.
I could find a way, a place,
where all of this makes sense.
I could hide the truth.
I hate the years, the miles,
all dragging me from you,
and the water,
begging to get inside my lungs.
And you show me your face.
But my eyes will always be on the ground and sky,
where I wish I could stay, and wish I could fly.
I'd rather not use your name
Because it makes you too real
Such a personal label,
A stamp if you will.

So please stay anonymous,
Remain ever so mysterious,
And I can keep a safe distance
From these experiences.
 Nov 2014 Jodie LindaMae
Kyra
Him
 Nov 2014 Jodie LindaMae
Kyra
Him
I loved you but I got carried away
But it all started out with an 'oh hey!'

He's not like the others
He knows how to cover
what he has stored inside him

Bursting with personality
Soaring for something greater

But he's got issues
greater than the Empire State Building

Scars with too many stories
that even a nanny wouldn't be able to have time to read them all

He's lovely
oh my indeed he is

But as I begged for him to stay
with tears in my eyes
wanting nothing more
than his comfort

All he could say was,
"Oh man,"
 Nov 2014 Jodie LindaMae
Haus
Dear Academia;
I took the adderall
because I thought
you wanted me
to be a machine.  I didn't
understand that
amphetamine tasted
like candy once you
got used to the way
your jaw locked and your
ears rang.  Dear
academia, did you
see my face when you
read my GPA, did
you see the way I stayed
up too late after my
after school activities
trained me to live with
anxieties?  Dear academia,
why am I afraid of the mirror?
Why did you teach me how
to write a perfect paper but
never prepared me for
the look in his eye when he told
me he didn't love me either.  Dear
academia, i'm ******* and you're
swallowing me, does the sting
of your impulses feel better
when you know you're eating
my hard earned money?  
Dear academia, why
do you give me empty promises?  Why
should I spill my blood with
this diploma, list
my ethnicity and birthdate
next to the insignificance
of what you think makes me
worthy, do
these details feed your
impending due dates or
are you just getting off
to the idea that
only the educated few
know how to
think straight?  Dear
academia,
I tried my hardest
to let you fool me, I
can feel your ego fattening
beside me as I watch your
children scramble for their
ideas of monetary
gluttony.  You're increasing
our wage gaps, do my late night
tears fuel your addiction to epistemic
poverty?  Dear academia, you
taught me to think critically.   I am on fire
with the matches you forgot
you hatched within
me.  Scorpions occasionally
eat their parents and I hate
to admit that this ****
has me hungry.
It has been
awhile.
My tongue went
missing,
a tape recorder
of things people
already said shoved
into its place.
The blood in my being
is heated with the love of my significant,
without him my heart is
cold.
26 letters of the English language.
Twenty-six letters strung in all the right places.
Twenty-six letters strung out in all the wrong places.  
How powerful could twenty-six letters really be?

The power of words is often underestimated.
Fore they could mend a broken heart.  
They could save a life.
And yet, words could start a war.
Words can rip apart the very fabric of your heart.  

Words can break everything inside you.
Or they could fix whatever’s left.
Don’t let these lies fool you.  

Words have meaning.  
Words hurt and words heal.
The wounds are cut open.
The scars are healing.

Words really do hurt.
Believe me when I tell you.
It’s not a pretty picture.

A world full of hateful words.  
A broken heart scattered here and there.
A happy soul left and right.

Words have meaning.
Words are what you are reading.  
Words change the world.
 Nov 2014 Jodie LindaMae
M
Untitled
 Nov 2014 Jodie LindaMae
M
there are many types of love
while I might feel phileo towards him and
eros towards her and storge towards Her
I might feel agape towards you
and I would say that the difference between romance and friendship
while I thought it was ***, for a long time,
is not- it is something more, intangible
an inseperation between souls
a terrible desire to be one-
a necessity of agape between the two
and a feeling that you will be insufficient
without it.
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