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are you
criss-crossed
starstruck
routined
day dreamed
*** crazed
hex slaved
are you
nightmare fueled
leaving soon
paranoid
must avoid
money ******
no luck
love starved
too hard
no fun
on drugs
hate sun
are you
worse off
all talk
can't sleep
repeat
back seat
like me
want out
big mouth
head south
don't care
not there
are you
me?
 May 2015 Mandee Patterson
CGB
It's been asked before
But nevermore
Why does the caged bird sing?

He's been locked away
No sight of day
Why does the caged bird sing?

His vision's blocked
Out of sight, he's locked
Why does the caged bird sing?

No soul to hear
His voice so clear
Why does the caged bird sing?

But oh how his song
Is out of tune, it's wrong
Why does the caged bird sing?

Maybe what he sings
Isn't what it seems
Maybe it's only screams.
"We think the caged birds sing, when indeed they cry."
-John Webster
How much debt can a father build?
Oh, as much as his daughter's heart can carry.
Ignorance is bliss
Feeling light and free of darkness
Merely floating atop of an unknown abyss
Yet never seeing the hands that keep you floating

Smiling without a doubt
Walking with your head in the clouds
Unaware of a dark shroud
Suppressed by unnoticed hands

Bathed with an innocent light
Finding stars in a starless night
Creating miracles with a smile just as bright
And with hands never seen

You stand untainted by the dark
A place so sacred and yearned for
You hold one of the last sparks
For these ***** and hidden hands will fight the war

For you
To protect you
To shield that spark

Ignorance is bliss
At the cost of another’s happiness
My thoughts on what ignorance really is.
 May 2015 Mandee Patterson
L
?
 May 2015 Mandee Patterson
L
?
What lies behind a question mark?
Nothing.
Wrong. There lies a chance to completely **** up.
 May 2015 Mandee Patterson
NV
3 AM type of girl expecting something more from a boy who barely makes it past midnight.

I KEEP TELLING YOU EXPECTATIONS ARE THE DEVIL, AND DISAPPOINTMENT WILL BURN WITH FIRE AT YOUR CHEST, DARLING.

"just go to bed because i'm basically talking to myself" she says.

*YOU SO TIRED OF PEOPLE BEING THERE, BUT NOT REALLY BEING THERE, SO YOU HANG UP, OKAY.
You’re not sorry,
So stop saying so.

There’s no gravity to your
Emptied apology;
I’m tired of dreaming
Psychotically,
Of ambiguity and opportunity.

This poem is a eulogy:
Sending off the desperation
Fueling me
To let go of your cold heart
That’s been just using me
To stoke the dying embers
Starved from emotional seclusion—

I’m trying so very hard not
To let myself live with the delusion
That you and me
Could ever be
Anything
Other than some LDR fling—

And those months (one through five)
Weren’t even real,
Because neither are we.
This love, was it ever alive?

At least I’m not.
After all, I’m just a thought
That you’re hoping your heart has forgot—
A figment from chaotic space
That you’re forcing yourself to eradicate,
Go ahead; take the eraser to my smiling face…

You’re not sorry,
We both know it isn’t true:

*“Cause with every ‘I love you’ I’m now getting over you”
Volatile to the maximum.
What is left to discover
beneath these primitive pages,
this idealistic sprawl
of half-rhymes and phrases?

We have scaled the mountains
and cast superstition asunder,
we have walked on the moon
and we have learned from our blunder.

For, what can I do
to be the first ****** eyes,
upon an uncharted land,
under Jovian skies?

We have fathomed existence
to the nearest iota,
we have established society
and a deep bass of culture.

All that is left is to wait for a saviour.
A new unbelievable mind
to help us in knowing,
to give us back to the stars,
which are forever a-glowing.

All that is left is to understand,
that where we are living
is just borrowed land.
c
I tried to be a journalist,
but I am not.
I tried to be a curator,
but I am not.
I tried to be a writer,
but I am not.
I tried to be a poet,
but I am not.
I tried to be a human,
And then — I slept soundly.
there,
on the vanity it sits—
a perfect smile 'cross perfect lips,
different from the rest
though no less the same.
smooth silk wrapped to tie
in a ritual ignorant of shame,
to fasten in place our lie
a knot most meticulous in design.

hand in hand unwittingly we dance
together in this mingling mystery,
with partners of mutual secrecy.
fingers interlaced,
feigned honesty embraced,
swinging twirling maneuvering,
dancing to the tune of
hearts sobbing souls crying,
unabashed by singing despairing.

carefully painted,
adorned by most beautiful deceit.
flawless—pristine
milk white composure,
hiding beneath
the honest human
in orchestrated illusion.

a mask to hide truth, our
vulnerabilities, insecurities, showing
instead
the face of who we wish to be,
who we deem ourselves to be,
how society demands we be.
by shame or guilt
unfulfilled ambition to become
our dishonest rendition.

so convincing our lies even teller be fooled,
the truth to surface only by dream,
casting reality to realm of fantasy;
stealing from world a uniqueness of beauty.

a mask
belonging to a person—
to each person;
lies not worth living.
there it sits on the vanity—a
perfect smile across perfect lips.
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