#resume
In wide arms
the world settles safely.
In one gesture
there is an opening
and a closing.
You suggested I write
with dirt and mistakes.
How ironic that is,
because all my life
I practiced my imperfect perfection,
being punished for cracks.
This year was a mix
of highs and deaths,
falls and small victories.
I did not risk enough,
yet I gave everything.
Sometimes
I wear shoes too tight,
sometimes they fall off my feet,
as if my steps
were not fully mine.
When I lie on the cold floor,
when I look at the warm sun,
I feel life, I breathe,
even if it presses on me.
I was, I am, maybe I will be
someone’s pain
or gentle touch.
You know this pain well.
An ache pierces through us
and brings both of us
a surprising resurrection.
Worrying about you,
I worry about myself,
because in a strange,
self-bound way
we are still connected,
even apart.
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 7:02 PM UTC
The Professor settles in and says, “Let’s go around the circle and introduce ourselves”
We listen to resume after resume of unbridled accomplishment. Then he points to me.
“Hi, I’m Anais, I’m a freshman, from Georgia, and I have mad skills. I can ***** about anything or feign complete indifference. I can give the impression of depth or play the ditz. I can pick the slowest line every time and I’m so good at sleeping I can do it with my eyes closed.” I finish and give the professor a head tilted “anything else?” look.
“Uhh,” he gives me an amused look, “thank you Anais. Next.”
Oct 26, 2021
Oct 26, 2021 at 12:52 PM UTC
education
The High School for Crying
The College for Artists
who fear much more than dying
special skills
I can see things that are not there
I can take more than anyone can bear
I can work without lunch or dinner
I can let myself get thinner and thinner
I can suffer and still sing
I can be silent through almost everything
goals
I will write until I ache
I will sing until I break
I will give more than I take
I will make a mistake
wait
hold on
no, wait
please don't go
don't reject my resume
please no
Nov 11, 2020
Nov 11, 2020 at 12:13 PM UTC
Before my deoxyribonucleic code has been sent
To my mother by a male parent,
I was on his land of sand,
As barely apparent.
(spermicide)
2. Then, I was finally sent
Into my female parent,
On another land,
Barely planned.
A couple of months went that I spent
In my mother's abdomen rent
On that green land,
Barely planned.
Then, my rentee went to that land,
Flying to the land of crescent
Where I was to be meant
For a big moment.
(embryonic)
5. The event happened, the end of the rent,
Under the flag with the red crescent;
I was by a Jewish name penned,
On the fifth May after Lent.
Falling into my mother's hand,
Still without any dent,
Back, I was re-sent
To motherland.
On that land, red in discontent,
White until the Lent's end,
And green at Lent,
I had one parent.
I had no knowledge when he went,
But I was without a male parent,
With only two women, a grand-
And an abnormal parent.
His furious leaving left an advent
As my mother madwomaned
With a schizophrenic scent,
To madhouse "never" sent.
The balance keeping us under tent
Was our draconian grandparent
With an infinite financial grant
That let us live on that land.
For alms, we walked to granny frequent',
And I loved her as my parent
For that little attachment
I barely experienced.
The further notions I experienced:
I was sent and sent and sent;
Nursed, schooled, churched,
And kindergartened.
But even before my childhood could end,
I found myself hard to befriend;
Playing the play of a dement
With an unmatched brand.
A playful kid, maybe too vehement,
Among others, a crazy element,
I was, but inside silent,
Over-vigilant.
I liked to observe others' comportment;
What was that I have been meant,
What made me outstand
Like an alien, mutant.
Step by step, I wished the end
Of flying dishes and plant'
At my domicile rent,
End of the torment.
(pubescent)
17. I wished to vanish from the torment
Of social-antisocial banishment,
But I saw no escape slant,
Only in my poetic lament.
Though, before those sad lament,
I tried to see my life and mend
My heart with compliment,
Some failed love event.
Minutes, days, months and years went,
A lot of school skills that I learnt,
But the best one in my hand
Was the ability to pretend.
Even if I swam well in crosscurrent,
I wished to end, leave that land;
Searched by my male parent,
I planned to visit his land.
Then, my mother went to madhouse mend,
For what, I was by my university banned
To work that went well, but I meant
To start or end a life in sand.
(twentified)
22. So, as my twenty-first birthday present
Finally, I Africanly citizened
To know my descent
And the crescent.
Beyond the French and Arabic accent,
I manned myself on that land
Where I was landed and
It's not yet ended.
Changing the cross to crescent,
I could be happy and...
But people prevent
Every event.
I'd been married as I planned,
But my fam is an accident
As my birth in an extent,
In this actual land.
What to do, socially I try to pretend
That I am indeed an element,
But my DNA was meant
To disappointment.
(at present)
27. Seen these verses, it's abhorrent
As well as writing a lament,
But as a birthday present,
I wish a Happy - End.
Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 4:00 AM UTC
Should I bring a résumé of my dreams
to the publishing company on West 38th?
An abstraction of when my teeth
crumble like pastels, or summaries of my
vocal cords seeking air through a taut fabric.
I’ve achieved piercing silence in a room of white noise.
I have an impressive inventory of witnessing infidelity.
once, we were both in between romantic partners.
I was awakened by the taste of copper
from biting the inside of my cheek.
It looked worthy of an aged Merlot.
My most admirable skill is prediction.
I can sense a mass shooting or the expiring heart of a loved one.
but I usually float like an island over the scene
because my biggest weakness is lacking density.
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
While yes, I have a résumé
It does no justice describing mé
So I'll leave this here for all to see
All I ask is please hire me
I'm great with sales
and communication
I can create tales
with no hesitation
Been fixing PCs since '99
Right after I broke all of mine
I don't do drugs
I don't cause fights
I won't give shrugs
to new insights
I can Photoshop best selling ads
and tell corny jokes just like most dads
I write HTML
and CSS
I can kinda spell
At least try my best
Started my first business in 5th grade
Profiting from the paper airplane trade
I'm a fast learner,
a problem solver,
a trust earner,
an idea causer,
a spreadsheet slayer,
a real team player
While I'm no photography guru
I've actually had a paid gig or two
Dove into video editing
way back when MySpace was a thing
Oh yeah. Plus I'm proficient with Microsoft Office.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 2:17 AM UTC
This is not
the time
for her
Resume I- I sir____ with love_
Above all___long_____*
What do we write
Web-BITE He's
Beer In The Evening
And She's
All
guaranteed
Good Deeds____
Never love
expired
Marilyn Monroe
**** white dress
going way up in flight
The candle in the wind
I presume
The artist
with all
her heart of
words
Show the rainbow
room
Love Firey Boom
Tulips reading her lips
Her garden Of Eve
Became toxic
Her love needs
to
be beautified
Taking some words
out that were lied
To be justified
Madonna wearing
her bustier
Lady Madona baby
at her breast
I presume she
couldn't
handle
the rest_____*
I assume love for all
poem requiem
The Italian art
of the Colesium
The ((Collegium))
college chicks
There is not fancy
words for spitting
Lady-like gum
I presume humbug
Her heirloom like
her resume's
Worthy every day
a Holiday
Everlasting embossed
fourteen karat gold
paper
Abloom drawing
The many types
of blood
rooms
Disguised costume
The court joined
judge Judy
Suspended resume
Boom all doomed
Nom De Flume
Girly powder room
Slender long
back room
He's her man is
there still room
The showroom
made a mob hit
The bridegrooms
Cornered
nook back
The Gunroom
We need to get
gun control
Save everyone's
soul
Too many
Schools
Loved ones are dying
help one another
So we can live more
Put ourselves
in a better world
The body and mind
Peace
Her resume
is like the
role of dice
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 10:55 AM UTC
a midnight
let fly
a lubricious
crow that
Vesuvius threw
off her
mind and
made out
this harmony
and a
throng we
once said
was so
wild where
we met
in night
of ash
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 9:10 AM UTC
Then you would be the alcohol that is burning me from the inside out...
but at least your seeping pain is allowing me to heal...
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 9:53 AM UTC
Stolen warmth gone for now, followed by melancholic uneventful sounds. When I walk, I walk away from seeing. Everything I thought I might've been. This skin trying to fly away from me, like a misplaced shadow searching for a body to shrug off its grief. Bending, arcing, aching thumbs that have too much memory to allow them any fun. The old time might have agreed, with the girl lost for at least three weeks. Sugar and a can of milk condensed, heated up over campfire coals in the woods near Libereć.
Twice I'm too scared to talk. After a boxing match with a raging bull. Staleness lingers over these sweating hips, where half a moon quaffs down Verdi's Requiems. I told you I'm hiding in the jungle now. Through these cufflinks I speak through a startled jowl. First that dying tone, the startling sound of a fading D Minor song. The mines of the forest grieve, until the hours born sell the rights to sleep. Taken and away from grief, where wiggling children's fingers are seen. Only to find the child was not a realty.
Let your hands make amends to me, whether you're here for the pistachio ice cream or vanilla almond dream. Princess pleas for a pauper's being.
Looks like the child bit off half it's tongue, to ignore all inquiries into where its gone. Minute games and clauses of flesh, I tie her up using her own belt. Chasing The Rockies for a festive blue, then I gorge myself while she enrolled me too. Quiet bandits filled with starlight.
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 3:46 AM UTC
You never really know,
How much you **** at life.
Till you write a resume.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC
He lives in his farm house by the hills, his
quiet life of contentment, seeking, creating,
discovering; Oh he’s a scientist, and
he grafts his poem trees; Beautiful plumes do
they grow for flowers, which fly out eastward
every morning; Well now he does, the sweet
fruit of these: eat poems to live? Silencing
those who asked him once. Oh and some of the
plants can talk: beyond our hearing, ultrasound.
Penetrating objects our eyes otherwise.
see not: stones; metals; oh don’t we carry
venoms of hatred in metal tubes of
veins crossing our hearts, conveying darkness
across the seas? These poem trees, talking, can
see through. And tell, when some leaks out, causing
fires, and deaths in a school or train station.
Quiet life of contentment, seeking, creating,
discovering; Living in his farm house
by the hills. His work at http://dreamtube.stream
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 12:35 PM UTC
I saw a girl
standing on my window
The day my darling
left me to sorrow
Hey shawty,
don’t ya know
you so fly?
Lately
I’ve been thinkin’
how can I
Send my résumé
to your heart
So that
we could
never be
apart.
iamthe_avatar ©2009
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC