until it struck me one day:
we were on the different pages
of our own books—
i wanted everything.
you merely wanted something.

-анна о. к.

Try to tell love
it should be limited
by complexion
it will laugh at you
For love did not
create injustice
So it will not be bound
by It’s influence ever

I’ve always been
Of the mindset
Anything That
becomes prevalent
becomes diminished.
I’ve earmark my stamina
For allocating love and
Remolding the monocles
Of a culture that glorify itself
On being barbarian and unstained
I want to be that rare healing
Salve that when I write
The hearts and minds
Of others are soothed and healed
I’ve noticed, it’s increasingly
difficult to stride through life
Without enduring battle wounds
From disappointment , failure
Crisis , judgment and brokenness .
I rebuff to be a prevalent setting
Rather a squishy and mending spot
That sits with the broken , sees them
Mend and help them rise through
My expression of love.

it's funny the things you forget
when asked for an 'interesting fact' --

you sleep on them for days
and exhume them from the ground
because they matter! so deeply!!
there's no metaphor that does them justice!!
it's poetry because it isn't!!!

i don't know my siblings.
my parents sleep in my dead grandad's bed
and i received his cupboards:
yeah, we're pretty much begging to be haunted.
let's be positive, it'd be nice to see him again.

thanks to reinforced childhood superstition,
i still pick up pennies from the ground
(yup, even with my germ phobia).

i used to write to the tooth fairy!
she warned me about gum disease.
her name was tiffy, but it turned out to
just be mum writing with her left hand.

as an internet-addicted hermit,
little me hated going abroad
since the only friends i felt i had were online.
there's thus a list of places to someday re-visit -
rotterdam is one.

i'd like to be somebody's muse.
if my life plan fails,
i want to work in a funeral parlour:
it feels as though i'd do it justice.

watching the same film more than once
just isn't something i do -- except grease --
exceptions can be made when it's on TV.

i mean, c'mon, it's grease.

Must have a goal
Go get that thing
What if I want
To stop and sing

Retreat inside
Wait out the storm
Else feel the wrath
Of nature scorned

Instead a kid
I wish to be
To feel alive
And so carefree

Each drip, each drop
Upon my head
Wish I could splash
In rain instead

I'd watch the sky
Explode with light
A warming joy
Not filled with fright

When did I lose
Sight of it all
Predictable
Pattern I fall

Start living in
Every moment
Past and future
Wasted and spent

Granted a new
Chance I'm given
Can not redo
But start living

Each day awake
Fresh start; Can be
World's my oyster
Alive and free

Where time went by slow
Where we used a scarecrow
To make sure the corn
would grow

Where the grandkids
jumped in the back of grandpa's
beat up truck
Making it to the house with lots of  luck
Where grandma had a scratch white cake
that she had just baked

Where we fished using a cane pole
Down at Charlie's hole

Where we rode the horse with a string bridle
Never used saddle

Where our summer was spent breaking beans
Wearing holes in our jeans
At night driving around town in our four-wheeler machines
Being a little clean

Where after Sunday church
We had a family dinner
Moms *** roast was a winner

Where computers did not keep us from getting bored
We had country chores

Where on Saturday you took a trip to town
to the tractor supply store
Dad gave us a dollar to spend
Fun running  into your friends

Where the roads were not filled by cars
Where at night you could actually see the stars
Where the land as far as you could see
was ours

Living in the Country