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In what light am I undone
that morning stars lead you away
and with the rising of the sun
you bid farewell you cannot stay.

For morn brings mourning to my eyes
and here upon my trembling lips
lie echos of those gentle sighs
that with this night so gently slips.
from hands that plead with lack of voice
yet speak aloud both want and need
for this is circumstance not choice
that seperates and intercedes.

Pray twilight hear my anguished heart
and offer solace to my soul
as I once more am torn apart
without the love that makes me whole.

So I with muted tongue your name pronounce
as darkness kills stone dead our bliss
and mornings manic smile doth trounce
the chance of one last goodnight kiss.
I'm sick and tired
Of being sick and tired-
Running on emotions
Like a bad electrical wire

How many times do I have to hear your ****-
That's it-
I quit-
I'm over it.

You say that you love me,
That there can't be anyone else
Then you shove words down my throat
And threaten me with something else

I've stood strong for so long
Taking and taking
I've let you live your life
But now the bend is breaking

This is it for the taking
This is history in the making
It's me versus you-
And there is no mistaking...

I'm gonna let go of the past
Break the mold of this cast
This is history at last
I'm letting your bad love fade fast.
A big curtain
As if on fire
Separates us from them
Real from fantasy
Gods from mortal me

It drapes
And tumbles
Like an elegant ball gown
Though what they wear
Is mostly bare

And I long
To kindly shout
Redirections because I see
How much better
The choreography would be
If entrusted to me

Arrogant
Is what I am
And fearful when the time does come
To take charge of my own art
But separate, I can play the part
Much better than I do
When it's MY show that's about to start
Gall, dad
If I had my way with money
I would make something out of it
A house of credit cards
Write my poems on all that paper with no true value
I mean
You trade your thoughts for George Washingtons and Abraham Lincolns
Well
I keep mine
To help make more
People
Like the ones on our currency, but currently
I don't think you understand where I'm coming from
And as I sit here
Tapping away with my thumbs on an electronic device that you thought made up for my childhood
I wonder
What did you trade for me?
I'm not the girl you think I am
Not really, anyway
There's a lot more to me than the girl in Dr. Seuss pajama bottoms, shrinking beneath the expectations you have set for me
I wish I knew what your expectations are
But it's hard to reach for a bar you can't see
It's hard to mold myself into something that you will accept and place on the mantle of a fireplace so that when strangers come over you can point to me and say that you are proud
I'm not sure if you want candlesticks or a picture frame or a book full of wonderful accomplishments
I could be all of those things, if you wanted
I'm not the girl you think I am
Not really, anyway
I'm stronger than my trembling bottom lip and the tears that break through the walls of my heart sometimes
I wish you weren't so logical and demanding of evidence you can hold in your hands
Because in my mind there's a gold mine of things I am trying to become
And none of them can be deposited in an ATM or withdrawn from a checking account
I'm sorry that I'm not real enough for you
And I'm sorry that you won't step into my mind for a second
So I can show you
The girl behind the numbers
over the fence
my neighbor asks me:
Where are you from?

My passport says
I’m Citizen,

I reply
It also records where I was born
but really, I’m from deep inside


Neighbor does not chat to me anymore
and seeing me on our walks
Neighbor nods warily
and crosses over to the other side

Could you be polite to people?
my wife admonishes me daily

But I’m puzzled
*Why don’t people want to know the truth?
I am, after all, from deep within
Aren't we all?
...so, dear reader, where are you from?
Positive thinking
or negative thinking?
Or think real?
Then clear thinking and
straight thinking
divergent thinking
and radiant thinking
convergent thinking and
dynamic thinking
rational thinking
scientific thinking
or no-thought thinking
God-mind thinking
or free-thinking
Oh for goodness’ sake! –
*just think!
....we fall on labels and depend on crutches to help us think...and so we spawn systems and lean on Authority and Systems in order to think....why don't we just - think?
“Do I sense
some resistance -
a sense of injustice?”
whispers Life
folding me cold
in her ample python-coil
and she sings me her song


“The flowers bloom
in the fields, sweet love
to be gathered for your bier
Time lingers in the wings
to pull you off stage
at the moment
opportune in its Clasped Book

The worms wait patient
if you choose a burial;
if cremation’s your choice
the fires wait in quiet potential
The musicians practise
to be employed
by the survivors
to deliver you a dirge

And so my sweet love -
Live well
Night night, sleep tight,
don’t let the bedbugs bite"
I hate it when everybody quotes me "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas, as if it were the final words...great poems too become cliches when they are quoted indiscriminately by those who rather lean on the 'wisdom' of others...
Mummy
I think you should send Grandma back
to where she came from;
she comes into my room
stares about, and she says:
“Decadent! Decadent! Decadent!”
And then she mutters:
“Never had such things in my day!”
Ma – it’s a good idea to send her back
to where she came from, I think
And when no one is home
but me and Grandma
she puts plastic flowers in her hair
and dances all round with her song:
"This eve is my wedding;
this eve am I the bride
And I've me the handsomest man
in all of the land"

She hid my shoes the other day
and she grinned when I found them under her bed;
when you are not looking
she swipes her hands over a pretend iPad
and sticks her tongue out, and pops her eyes out
and whispers to me:
“That’s how you look, dearie dear;
like the village idiot in days of old”

She says I dress too short;
I should wear skirts right down to the toes
Grandma stood over my bed
yesterday morning
and she said I was sleeping late, too long;
and she copycats me eating, and she says:
“You are at a sumptuous table
but you eat like the poor”

And she pretends to kiss me goodnight
and she whispers her secret curse:
“Girls who don’t wash their toes,  
they don’t go to Heaven
You might wake up in the morning
and find yourself  walking
on the hot coals of Hell”

Mummy, please
I think you should send Grandma back
to where she came from
...I acknowledge that the theme in this poem has been tried, as one will notice reading a good collection of children's poetry....but I hope I've endeavoured to offer a different perspective, a freshness in this poem...
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