I am not happy.
I have spent too long,
In a mold,
Self-imposed-
An idea of idealism
That didn’t quite take form.
Implied as it was
Buy the media
(who knew how to sell, too)
That I am not good enough
if I am just me.
But everything has significance,
Every letter and punctuation.
Every Capitol, and every lower case.
The fact maintains, that there are words at all.
There is substance behind symbol, and meaning behind sign.
And so, although they sold their wares on an “if”
They forgot that behind that “21 year old literature graduate, female”
There was a girl.
Full stop.

There was a girl
Who went to school
And studied something she thought she was passionate about.
And that girl grew, into a tree, into an animal- into the very breeze
She grew into the whole world

And was as big as could be.
And the media laughed.

And she was happy.

Hehe
A gentle giggle
So feminine
And delicate
And light
He he
Why then is he
Not allowed to be
What are these words?
How did we attach them to such ideas?
How do we let he-
Free to, haha, *hehe

A silent prayer
to the dead thing-
on the side of the road
Avert your eyes
but pay your respects
indistinguishable
          deformed
                   and once breathing
air
Empty lungs
once full of life
scampering/skittering
across the paved path
(bushy tailed and bright eyed
some may even say)

Now.
Avert your eyes and look away
as you say a silent prayer
to the dearly departed
(vermin)
on the side of the road

He was the nicest guy she’d met in a long while- it wasn’t about false flattery with him. He was genuine. He understood. And then it occurred to her that maybe he understood too well. Maybe he knew more than any of the other ones ever had before.
And she was right. Because that one night, after he thought she was his, they went out for drinks. And he saw her talking with another guy. He was the best listener she’d met in a while. And he was funny. And it wasn’t about false flattery with him. He didn’t understand quite the same way- but maybe that was for the best. And then he left the bar for a minute to explain to his girlfriend that he’d be late that night. And he looked at her, and she returned his look. She wasn’t sure what it was asking of her. Until she felt his hand on her leg. And then she understood. And she turned away. But he’d found the answer to his silent question.
“So he’s tonight’s conquest.”
And she swallowed her tears and drew lines in the little beads of sweat on the glass of beer in front of her. Because only she was allowed to look at them like that. Only she was allowed to think about them like that. Only she was allowed to see herself in that light.
But he had figured it out. He understood. And that terrified her.

“You Gorblax!” I cried out
In pain and in woe,
When suddenly I stubbed,
My littlest toe.
Spewing crude words
At the villainous wall,
I bumbled and grumbled
As I walked down the hall.
Then mother glanced over,
With the sternest of looks
“What have you been reading,
In all of those books?!”
I hung my head low,
Stroobling with shame
And softly I mumbled,
“What harm’s in a name?”
To mother’s dismay-
She thought she had taught me
What words I could say
And once more turned to lecture
In her old gorblax way.

Brought to new land, though old in comparison
Fought by the people in their land of origin
Induced by the government who meant it be fatal
To a language with so many words on the table

                They wanted new words; language infested
So many already and another invested
                In with the foreigners- teach us your ways!
Help us to lead our dear children astray

The people spoke up in a language their own
Turned the game ‘round with the mightiest groan
Supported a liar with money and power
Who promised the country, of teachers, to scour

Turns out in the end, they were lied to again
The new puppet in town’s under Russia’s ordain

A sweaty finger, and blinded eye
Aimlessly wandering amid muffled grunts
Lead me here
And turn me there
Whirring fan, outdoes the sounds
Suddenly deafened by padded walls
Let me guide you around
My fingers in your hand

The world flipped, and was
Turned upside down
When suddenly I,
Was leading around.
Careful,
Touch.
Oh-
Don’t make a sound

Oh the fluid blood that flows
Thick
Dark
Blue.
Through tiny orifices.
Plastic
Metal
Too.
Forming words
Thoughts
Ideas.
Scribbling on.
Scratching at.
Oh the things they've felt
a hand gripping tight
Forcing ink out of the tip
Like a freshly popped zit
Oozing and flowing freely.
Or pre-*** on a raging *****
Dripping
Tantalizing
Suggesting.
What may come of it?
What masterpiece will be born?

What ******* will form?
Where will it go?
With bear-clad feet
Clawing through
Fermented forestry.
His journey begun,
Words will spill forth.
Through pin-like orfices,
Leaking and scribbling.
Thoughts transform-
Ideas, Beliefs, Signs.
Neon path, follow me here.

I just want to hide away
To crawl under a rock
Pretend the world was slipping
Apart
Through my fingers
Fists and jaw
From the shock
Of living as us puppets do
From our stings and strands
Our tufts of hair getting in the way
Blocking the Puppet master from the stand
So instead we tune our notes and look
Below
To the hiding space we might crawl
Away from harm
And cold, frozen snow
In hibernation, we turn a cold cheek
To destruction, flame and sorrow
Curl up into safety pins
And ***** those who come too close
Hidey holes are not for sharing
Or so the story goes
But the truth is we’re needles too,
Wrapped up in our thread
We look to mend
Tie knots
And break off loose ends.

The misunderstood deamon
Glorified through deadly fear
Judged too soon as
Fallen Angel
Pawns shudder
Deny him his name
His cloaked form
And glittering scythe
Eternally burdened- a fate
Worse than death
Forced to spend his time
A-scheming
Immortality confines him
To his frozen cell
The question burns
Our tongues and ears and eyes
Will he conquer this epic war
This deadly game
Of Chess

Grasping, calling out
Thoughts crumbling like
Cigarette ashes
Cayenne Marx the eyes
Makes you sneeze and
Blink more than twice
Red clasps, closing off
The treacherous jungle
That is your mind
Black poppies
Put you to sleep
Think not, feel not
Fear all

I miss feeling the tug
Of a smile playing at my lips
The bright, lit glow
The lyrical wind
And simple joys
Like those of a cigarette

Are you there?
Can you hear me calling?
My voice is raspy
But am I getting through?
My heart was breaking
You might have heard
You picked up a stake
And pierced it through
Fragments flew
Shattering, crackling
Falling apart
All about me
Little bits of my heart
Do you hear me sobbing?
Calling out to you?
I’ve been trying to say
I miss you

A deterioration of thought
As time progresses
Words turn to scribbles
Jots, lines, scratches
Knowledge hides away
Between the ink blots and
The misspelled words
Nonsensical terms
Incoherent definitions
Nothing makes sense
But simplicity shines through
Common sense saves the day
What is common about it
Questions
Is it shared
Question
Common sense
Common knowledge
Common non-existent thoughts

I’m from hopelessness,
Where self-mutilation looks classy.
I’m from defenselessness,
Where bruises turn red instead.
I’m from the Land of Oz,
Where the long winding road seems endless.
My glittery shoes seem broken though.
I’m stuck in a world I don’t deserve.
My sorrow evident, my suffering clear.
Life’s not so bad when your living in fear.
I’m from frustration and envy,
I just don’t know why.
A comfortable lifestyle is easy to come by.
Stuffed bear by my side, he swallows my tears.
I’m from the moments I spend, hiding away.
I sympathize with Rosaline,
How was she to know?
Snubbing Romeo would be so disastrous.
Or Snow White, so close to death;
Yanked back by an uninvited kiss.

Don’t blink or I’ll slip by you
Back in the day when you could wear your tees inside out.
Count to a hundred and I’m coming to find you.
Push the swing and slide down the slide.
Savor the wet sand under your nails.
Play in the rain and jump in the puddles.
Envision prehistoric friends;
Don’t let them tell you that you’re mad.
Wild treasure hunts and make believe castles.
Blink twice and it turns back into the broken tree stump.
You stood on it to see the world from your parent’s point of view.

The moon shining above us.
The other half sees the same thing.
With blinking satellites on either side.
Where have all the stars gone to?
Leaving us with nothing to wish upon.
We resort to throwing away our pennies.
What’s a couple hundred here and there,
When a dream just might come true?

Cobwebs in my head, spiders on my tongue.
The dolls mock me with their big, empty eyes.
Glass shard and broken pool tables.
The thoughts in my head have yet to define coherent.

After endless hours of frustrating questions and never ending texts
The cat comes in purring, a stitched mouse her prize.
Sunlit patch of blanket, her pride is evident.
Around and round she pets the ground;
It has to be perfect before she lays her silky head down.
My bed smells like me and she doesn’t seem to mind.
If her purrs are to be of any consolation, she seems to be appeased.
I look over to the upturned roses, left to dry in the bright, untouched light.
A petal falls and the cat pounces.
Soft laughter erupts from my mouth as we wrestle to win the satisfying crunch.
Our playful swipes leave the roses in pieces but no one seems to mind.
I pick at the loose threads in my sleeve and the cat tries to play with them.
Her tall tail brushes under my nose and I try to hold in a sneeze.
The sneeze intrudes on our games and she jumps.
A paper floats to the ground, a quote from a restless moment:
Every second counts.

And the Media strikes again.
How many more will succumb to it’s allure?
“I can be like that”, but they never will
Because “that” doesn’t exist.
Stick figure turn-ons and stuffed lingerie.
Exfoliaters and diets and pills and drugs
The innocent are converted.
Blush and rouge and liner and shadow
Pretty colours and tight clothes take a girl far.
Far from what she wanted to be,
So many years ago.
Hypocrites nod their heads, they agree.

So what if the rain never falls,
or if the clouds turn to gray?
So long as you're by my side,
The demons hide away.
I turn and stare,
And all I see is the passing by
Of past lies and hurtful words.
But it doesn't matter anymore.
Because even teddy bears
Can only take so much
Before they overflow.
They no longer hold
And so I look to you instead.
None of it matters anymore.

Tough skin is overrated,
You're never really there.
When I close my eyes to look at you,
I wait to disappear.
I whisper to the dark,
In hopes that you will hear.
But the wind keeps softly blowing,
Your lies to me, they tear.
Tough skin keeps me breathing,
It leaves you in the air.
Come save my punctured soul she says,
It leaks, you see, right here.
The eyes, they do the same,
Salty tears they often see.
My heart, you see, she longs for you,
My brain does disagree.
So tough skin is all you left me,
To save me from myself.
For this I do not thank you,
She hates what she's become.

In my coffee cup this day I did find,
a bat with it's wings spread wide,
the dainty fingers of a hand
poised to pick up an unseen object,
a monster carrying murderous weaponry,
the strong legs of a dancer mid-pose,
a dolphin leaping through the canvas,
the beak of a bird,
a dinosaur with its head held high,
the tiniest of hummingbirds,
lightly at flight,
a snake poised to strike,
and the elusive elephant,
who poked his head up through the mess,
just as I was finishing up.

Hot water pounding,
Toes curling,
Head covering,
Tears rolling,
Arms holding,
Thoughts racing,
Cries reaching,
Not a sound escapes.

My soul wants to take flight.
Broken wings keep me trapped.
My shell has been used.
Used and misused,
All with my consent.
And now I wonder,
For what did I give,
And not receive.
My battered heart,
Worn and torn,
Unable to hold any more.
I don't want to feel like this again.

some people sit around- pretending
some people know they know- the truth
some people might even say- they're flying
some people think it's all, bad news.
but when you're sick and tired- of waiting
just look to the sky- for proof
the weather is just about- a changing,
something new, is blowing in
the streets aligned with little people- waiting
for what, they know- not
unless
they're one of the few
who know- they knew
the truth

A some day will come,
a sun day, a one day.
A day full of fortune and so-
the earth will inhibit
the meek will prohibit
and all that is prosper shall flow.
Though from the tips and the grips of the few
who hold onto the dreams they did sew,
their future permit it
their mother forgives it,
so long as the fortune does grow

I'm bleeding, I'm bleeding
I'm feeling, I'm feeling
I'm tossing, I'm turning
My stomach is churning
My face won't present it
I'm sitting, I'm writing
I'm feeling, I'm knowing
My eyeballs are dry and
I'm blinking and breathing
My mouth tastes like chalk
And my hair is all falling
In front of my face
My eyes aren't working
I'm floating, I'm jumping
I'm spitting, I'm running
I haven't left my seat
But I haven't lied yet
My scalp is crying
My ears are ringing
But no one will know it
If my face won't present it
And through the slit in the window
The world is presented
On a concrete platter
Partially hidden, as worlds often are
But the truth is still out there
Waiting to check
To see if you're still looking
To see if your seeking
As hide and seek goes
I'm losing, I'm losing
The truth always knows
The truth always goes
Away- but comes back
For round two, and three and four
So long as the pen never leaves the paper
I'm *******, I'm *******
I'm using crude words
To break out of a shell
A mold- Imposed
All the world knows it
They come out at night
When no one is looking
And judging and staring
Or so they think and
Hope and pray
But the truth (that we've found)
Is simple and clear
We are crude
And I count
The number of men,
and women,
I've ******
Tick them off
Little checks in a list
To-do list indeed
To-done
To-day
It makes me laugh
And I pretend not to care
****! *****! Frank. Honest.
Synonymous?
For me
They are
I am
Dispossessed.
Do I belong?
Can I belong?
Will I ever belong?
I pretend not to care
But I'm bleeding, I'm bleeding
I'm feeling, I'm trying
I'm crying
I'm dying.

Stubs of lead
He scribbles quickly
Reinforced by the dead
Their cries muted thickly

Thoughts racing
He is forced out
The General pacing
Crying, he shouts
Quick men, to your ranks!
Flanks, flocks- marked men
Hurry now, we soon begin!

Clattering stub, you would deceive
His thoughts still on your child
The seed he planted on that eve
Will grow and mock- he’s going blind

Judging eyes, they reprimand
That well-worn, aged hand
That moulded that once young thing
How it’s grown and had its fling

He didn’t look before he leaped
And threw himself into that blessed heap
Of disfigured helmets
In avoidance of his debts

My neck is cricking and so are the crickets outside.
The bike rack shuffle, the dance of the bars and wheels.
The knuckles dancing- mini solos and bold duets?
Cars driving by, up in my room, so fluid, so loud.
Hard to swallow, gravel chunks bouncing off the waterfall throat.
Sticky fingers, itchy ears.
No similarity- just parts of the process.
The marriage.
The system.
Massive zits and oddly placed hickeys.  
Misplaced zits and famous hickeys.
Hickets.
**** water, stubbed toe.
NO MORE LISTS!
No bruises, no needles and pins.
But what is poetry without listing?
Words that work and form and portray, nothing gray-
Light and beauty and all that is write about the word.

I seem to have misplaced
My cheerful disposition.
It's flown right off my face.
The angry world will opposition
Those who won't pretend.
Can't be bothered to amend,
I intend to make a difference-
Be that bright lit star.
But the great wide space
That stands between
Is oozing abuse,
Sorrowful pus.
Falling down,
For far too long.
My knees have grown so weak.
They won't support
The heavy mind
That leads those long lost sheep.