#plates
Three women sat at one table.
In each of them, a heart beats
born in a different time.
White plates waiting
for a slice of bread
baked in a warm brick oven.
One remembers the war.
She brings calm.
The second worries that everyone
will come back safe.
The third
listens to their stories
and enters the world
with a full breath
after the fall of the wall.
I touch the hard-working hands
of the oldest one,
full of love so quiet
that it cannot be denied.
In her eyes
a little girl still lives,
the same one
who once
lost her mother.
She is an anchor.
She brings comfort
and memory.
That day and those plates
with a slice of bread
remain in memory
because of them.
Mar 10
Mar 10, 2026 at 5:50 PM UTC
tectonic pulling apart
mirrored in opposing forces
of Mankind-
the unleashing of violence
on peaceable souls,
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 7:03 AM UTC
i want to smash plates
but i can't do that
i cant betray the image of the
perfect daughter
the perfect sibling
the perfect child
although i am far from perfect
and everybody knows it
even you know it
but i still can't smash plates
maybe it’s the curse
of the eldest daughter
or maybe
there is something
intrinsically wrong with me
because i don't remember
when this started
or if there was ever a starting point
i don’t remember what shattered me so badly
that i wanted to shatter the world with it
Mar 20, 2024
Mar 20, 2024 at 2:12 AM UTC
___𝙱𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝
𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜,
𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎;
𝙻𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛,
𝙼𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚋𝚊𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚋𝚕𝚎,
𝙱𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎.___
Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 3:44 AM UTC
monday: putting ***** plates aside
tuesday: ignoring the ***** plates
wednesday: being bothered by the ***** plates
thursday: intending to do the dishes
friday: forgetting to do the dishes
saturday late afternoon: meeting a woman in a pub who tells daddy that she has a dirt allergy
saturday evening: arduously scrapping off fatty chunks from the dishes, groaning about such a hard kind of labor and thinking about easier ways of cleaning ***** plates.
from saturday night until sunday morning: making love to the woman from the pub; putting ***** plates...
Dec 20, 2019
Dec 20, 2019 at 4:13 AM UTC
I'm always in a rush to work,
In such a rush to drive home,
In a rush to die to make famous my poems.
I'm raising a glass to silly victories
And the same glass to the same loss
Because either way it's my history
And I'm just like a bystander
Seeing the boat off.
I wonder if life is so fragile,
Why we are caught in a balance act?
Why do we smile so much to say it's fine,
Too embarrassed to admit we all cry?
Stuck in a generation of losers and debt
But ****** we try, I really do try.
I'm making amends with my demons,
Trying to keep my head on right
But sometimes I replay a kid
Saying I was an inconvience to life
And sometimes when awake in a real dark night,
I start to see those words shedding light.
Today, I took out the trash
Then compacted my remaining sentiments
Into one piece of poetry
I'm letting go of any resentment,
And tired of repenting for being me
Took off the shackles on my feet
And leaped out into the free world
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 10:20 AM UTC
in a table, we sit
we all laugh, we all sin
the dish is regrets
and the plate is all but pretends
the fork is the spoon
and the glass was filled too soon
so we drank bottles of fantasies
mine was you sitting next to me
the knife holds anger
and you sit across me
should i cross the line
and stab you to wake?
pain is our water
and we can't live without it
so i stood up and pondered
"when will we start the feast?"
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 11:50 AM UTC
father says to conquer my fears,
but how can i when losing you is always
at the fault line?
when the earthquake strikes,
the tectonic plates shuffle,
slipping and grinding.
oh father, how can i conquer my fears,
when it's always on the line?
i can't help the thought of losing you,
how can i ever conquer that?
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 1:13 PM UTC
the teacups
pans
and plates
they all talk to me
i'm overcome with uncertainty
and no i'm not crazy
but silverware
appeals to
my senses
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
My grandfather taught me things.
Things I didn't have to learn because I saw someone hooked up to a hospital machine,
But the tiny things that mattered,
Like how you should never play with you fork,
Because you could poke your eye out,
And while we're on the manner of table manners,
His constant hand grabs,
Moving plates and glasses,
Farther and farther in,
For a fear they may fall,
I was so curious of why even now when I'm not as small.
For now I wonder,
Is it so you don't fall,
So you feel safer,
Is this why u always push re plates in,
Have your little problems with everything,
And not afraid to share them with the world,
And try to push them to be perfect,
When you haven't figured out no one is,
I know that you see things in me,
No one else does that I don't even see,
All the potential and this future you constantly go on and on about,
And I think to my self what future,
But you don't give an inch,
And tell me I'm worth something,
That means something to me,
They say you don't chose your family
But I would of chose you still,
Your still going to be old and stubborn,
Like the old folks are,
But your unique in your pushy way,
That wouldn't of honestly made me care about you as much,
If you weren't the way you were,
I love you times every plate you pushed in at dinner,
To ever time you told me to stop playing with my fork when I was eating,
And nothing will change that,
Like nothing should ever change you,
And like you've taught me,
Don't change for anyone but you,
And to push myself to go the distance,
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
These China plates remind me of you
So i'm a little more cautious than normal
Because i don't want to break them
And i never want to destroy what should of never been broken
I only amend the fallen parts
And make them new
My body trembles
At the thought of you making a rash decision out of desperation
You've been throwing those words around and i get extra nervous
Because this isn't something i take lightly
It seems like i'm the only one in this imaginary small town that lends a hand
While everyone glares at us like they have a right to treat us like dirt
I want to save your life, regardless of how many people turn their back on you
I see backs all the time
People love walking away when it gets hard
I just keep going- it's what must be done
These China Plates get prettier by the year
I think it's the same for your soul
It just looks rusty because you've taken quit a few tolls
That also want extra fees
And i'm here to tell them that you already paid
Because you don't deserve any more wounds
Don't worry about me
You're the focus
The art on the China Plate
That gets unnoticed
Way too often.
But i'm the Man that takes interest in the non-perfect
And seeks to make it new again
The Misfits just lost their way
And i'm here to point the way.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
Breathe.
It's only for a time.
Breathe.
Do not let the tears spill out.
Breathe.
But they laugh and laugh and laugh and I cannot handle their hands on each other and their smiles turned away from me and the complicity they share I am so
alone
In a sea of people
I put 5 plates
On a table and I am the odd one
Out.
I stare straight at the wall.
But they laugh and laugh and laugh and do not realize we are in a different universe.
I am the 5th plate.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
Did you ever see those circus performers with the spinning plates?
Plates on poles spinning, spinning, spinning
You could never understand how they kept so many up
spinning, spinning, spinning
Just as one is about to fall
you can already hear the crash in your head
the shattering of porcelain on the ground
they spin it again and it stabilizes
just barely
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 5:58 PM UTC
100 pounds. And Mommy wants to raise me
She takes my plate
It floats from her hand
And falls down
Three drumsticks
Splat
It was all on the floor
Her voice
And I kept looking past her head
Because my eyes couldn’t face
Rage
So, no longer could I cook
To her, I needed discipline
One rod to set me off
To the sky and push my head against the ground
The fact was I am
Fat
Every supper, she took the bread.
The flour is mute in the edges. Its texture is soft on the tongue
There were always blue dolphins in my glass.
They wish to swim within an ocean
And I set them free
Because I didn’t want my stomach to be
Empty
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC