The first thinkers were poets
Naming Mother Earth
Beginning symbolic thinking
Of nature, death and birth

Though themes are often repeated
Love, Beauty and God
Poetry in the guise of Religion
A prophet or a fraud

The poet resurrects the Primitive
Through allegory and similes
Disarming the unknown like explorers
Sublime Prophets and Visionaries

They must lay bare those treasured images
That must be expressed
Unraveling and revealing the sounds
At each soul’s behest

Encompassing the entire Cosmos
So lyrical the beat
The poet’s excitement flows outward
Laid at the Reader’s feet

So original, individual
She won’t examine or explain
Letting go the festering feelings
Disturbances in her brain

He exposes his dark, wounded psyche
Just to release and express
Such capacity to see and compare
Hyperbole at its best

I love, I hate, I suffer
A special dance in rhythm and rhyme
The poet as a buffer
Lessening the pain and sting of time

Laden with symbol and feelings
She gives you sweet relief
From something urgent, revealing
Confusion to belief

Through a cinematic kind of seeing
The poet purges to transform
By leaping through Alice’s looking glass
She never was one to conform

Quite intolerant of convention
Just like The Mad Hatter
His passions immune to all logic
In syncopated patter

Jamming up the poet’s mind
Struggling for expression
Seeking order out of chaos
An infantile regression

Cleaving to his imaginary world
The poet breaks out into words
Creating sound paintings to be unfurled
So his own agony is blurred

She succumbs to storms of passion
With instinctive techniques
Rhymes and rhythm still in fashion
Out of hand flows mystique

The poet mines from his unconscious
The Reader is not blind
For every single line and symbol
Means something to the mind

Causing an inner liberation
Enlightenment or flight
It is a matter of life and death
When darkness turns to light.

if someone is ***** and everyone ignores it,
did it really happen?

if she said no and he didn't listen,
did she make a sound?

we live in a world where women teach their daughters
to scream before teaching them to say please.

where the word "no" is treated like a suggestion,
and "stop" is treated like a foreign phrase...

where a woman's innocence is crushed like a flower in hands that were never given permission to hold it.

and yet you wonder why girls go to the bathroom in pairs,
and call each other to make sure they got home safely?

Forgotten.
"I didn't realise you weren't there"
"I actually forgot all about you"
"I'm so sorry I forgot our appointment"
How many times
Can one be forgotten?
Oblivion is the state of being completely forgotten,
They say it comes with death
Yet I have achieved it in life.

I hate waiting,
but I'm the one who's always late.

I hate talking to people,
yet I often have the most to say.

I hate being ignored,
but want others to go away.

I hate feeling neglected,
though I forget those around me by letting my thoughts lead me astray...

I hate clingy people,
yet I find myself obsessing over you everyday.

I hate it when others try to get close to me, however, I continue to dream of having the chance to be close to you;
wishing that you'd stay...