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 Feb 2014 Maggie
Matthew Walker
One year ago exactly, I awoke to the miserable news that my dear friend, Morgan Helman, was dead. I called her voicemail and wept my goodbyes. I punched the wall and screamed until I thought my lungs would crack. I wrote a poem to express the ravaging anguish I was experiencing, and to try and honor her life. I read it as a eulogy at her funeral. In it, I mentioned a time when she had asked me to write a happy poem. Everything I had ever written was a result of sadness or some other tortured emotion. I apologized that what I wrote for her was far from happy. I told her someday I would a write a happy poem, though I doubted my own words. One year later, I have walked away from the depressed mental state I used to call home. On the anniversary of her passing, I completed this "happy" poem. It's different than what I'm used to creating. It might not be as artistic as some of my other poetry. But it is a vivid expression of the first step in a new direction. This poem is dedicated to Morgan Helman and the legacy of love she left in her wake.

You Are

Resonating laughter
as the child plays,
hallway smiles
on bad days.

Disney movies
when I'm sick,
lightsaber battles
as a kid.

Rope swings
for make believe Peter-Panning,
backyard sprinklers
spraying the trampoline.

Hot soup
after it snows,
Refreshing popsicles
when the sun glows.

Warm cookies
melting in my mouth,
playing cards
at Grandma's house.

Blazing campfires
engulfed in inspiration,
jam sessions
with passionate musicians.

Barefoot freedom
in the grass and on the beach,
Sandy paradise
sinking beneath my feet.

Captivating books
as it gently rains,
favorite songs
when I'm disarrayed.

Intimate poetry
as my soul sings,
genuine happiness
spilling out of me.

Caring parents
whose admiration lasts,
trustworthy friends
who remove my masks.

Comforting arms
when my friend dies,
calloused hands
pulling tears from drowning eyes.

Raw love
strung on splintered wood,
My God
you are everything good.

~ m.w. ~
2/3/14
 Feb 2014 Maggie
Lappel du vide
wars
 Feb 2014 Maggie
Lappel du vide
the thing is,
we've all waged war on ourselves.

we've all been warriors against our
own body,
our own mind,
thoughts.

we've all told ourselves
that the things we create are not good enough,
that our hearts are not strong enough,
that we are so small compared to this sinking earth,
and we could never do anything about it except
scream and scream
from someplace high
until someone hears us,
saves us.

we've all torn
our bodies apart
whether it be with our fingers,
guiding razors, scratches,
adorning our precious skin with
purple bruises,
red slashes.
whether it be with our state of
mind,
shrinking ourselves,
pitying ourselves.
whether it be the
acceptance of heartbreak,
and the un-willingness to let it go.
we try to find salvation
in tiny, bitter pills,
try to find love in our medication.

the thing is,
we've all held battlegrounds within ourselves
and we're still so unkind.

we've been a shelter for ****** genocides
of creativity, and
we've held car crashes
of broken trains of thought,
in our screaming and thrumming mind.

we've held bombs within us,
exploding, shattering inside,
lodging us with
painful reminders of what it is
to be human,
alive.

the thing is,
we're all war veterans,
with both hidden and violent scars
from fighting
the lethal battle that is
raging within.

and that's okay.

just know
that you will win someday.
 Jan 2014 Maggie
Lappel du vide
10w
 Jan 2014 Maggie
Lappel du vide
10w
all i ever do
is crave cigarettes and crave you
 Jan 2014 Maggie
xander
ink
 Jan 2014 Maggie
xander
ink
let it flow let it flow
breathe with your emotions
and let it be your guide
to places where you feel vulnerable
light a torch and search for the light
now grab that device and channel your anger
hold that memories and let it linger
at the tip of your fingers where everything feels safe
nothing's more refreshing than a familiar scene
put it down into words and remember every detail
from castles to ashes
a pail filled with nails
bruises that speaks of happiness
to the world beyond our limits
purple skies and falling stars
the pyramids and its secrets
acquire the key of knowledge
and unlock life's secrets
 Jan 2014 Maggie
Lappel du vide
love is eminent.

and if you look at this miniscule existence of yours, you will see that it is stuffed in the cracks of old and memory-ridden sidewalks,
which have had to bare the deepest of weights,
of peoples feet which have been into their lovers homes smiling,
and out of them shredding their skin with their nails.
it is carved into the ancient trees, barren of leaves,
and grown from your old sweethearts seeds,
the one with torn jeans, and an addiction to tea,
and who was too much of a spirit to chain down. you had to let him free.
and of the woman, who owned a small, unheard of bookstore,
with books that smelled like cinnamon, about byzantine subjects,
and she let people take one and leave one and tip as they please.

love is there in the unsure drip of the faucet,
disturbing the silence,
in the morning eyed sun,
when the day has just begun,
and you can feel a sticky tightness on your cheek, where the tears used to run,
and the burn in your mouth, is it from your lover
or your two bottles of ***?

it’s in the old pictures from years ago,
where you cant quite recapture the moment, but the vague feeling is still there.
the film is dark and smoky. just exactly like it is supposed to be,
and all of our faces hold this resonant feeling of whole.

and there’s love in the way you jump off something high, ready to fall, and fall, and fall,
and how you focus on the moment of the fall, and not the crash landing.
the moment of all surrender, underwater, floating, meaningless bliss.

there’s love in your daily cup of coffee, or two, or three,
and there’s a special art in the way you mix your sugar, and pour your crème.
theres love in how you smoke your cigarettes,
and how the smoke creates complex, fleeting shapes,
a new one every drag you take,
twirling, and running, and breathing into space, condensing itself,
in a matter of moments it sinks back again,
and makes your couch smell of ash and sin.

theres love in lots of things.
even still
in the way the hopeless strike the clock,
back to work, over the dock,
into their houses,
cut out of dough,
to presume their tasks, and label themselves,
thoughtless in a row.  
and mindless words,
the dinner table sets,
dry dinner time small talk.
they breed for the numbers,
not the pleasure of ***.

love is there in the cold ridden hearts,
of people who don’t believe in passion or art,
its in the escapees of our generation,
in old trucks, singing oldies, crying of separation,
in the numb of the brain-washed,
without their minds, wandering endlessly to and fro,
but they just have to struggle and dig deeper,
and into their own world of drunken, honest, chain-smoking, dancing love
                                                  They will go.
 Jan 2014 Maggie
Lappel du vide
be patient, for hell knows i am not.
- let me have my freedom. i am a wild, flowering vine, do not trim me to fit into your garden.
- when you kiss me do it gratefully. be grateful that i will share my fire with you, and not burn you down to ashes instead.
- bite my lips, and do not be afraid to dare. jump into the unknowing with me.
i like surprises.
- get drunk with me. drink whiskey in wine glasses, get drunk with me and write on my body in a pen, covering me with your drunken scrawl. let me show you parts of myself that have never been kissed by the sun.
- hold onto my waist with strong hands, do not be afraid to put your fingers on my skin. do it, and do it surely. do not touch me lightly, do it with a purpose. be strong, yet be fragile. i am not delicate, yet handle me with care.
- kiss my neck, graze your lips all over my body. let me feel you like rain on my body, a steady thrum.
- do not for a second have the impression that you are ever using me. you are a silly boy and i am a dreaming girl, who walks fast, who has a whole world in her mind. believe me, you will know if you are ever even a tiny portion of it.
i'll probably just end up using you.
i know what i want.
and do not assume that you are always it.
- speak to me like your words are roses, that graze my skin under soft cotton sheets. do not hold anything back, say everything that can possibly fit in your mouth, and do not be surprised if i leave you when petals become thorns.
- i am not attached to you.
i have a whole life ahead of me, and i want to experience every moment of it, living so thoroughly that i will not miss even a second.
i want to see the world, walk barefoot in the most remote places, i want to love and much as i can.
i want to kiss strangers, i want to make love in France with a beret on, i want to drink coffee in the shower, and i want to listen to vinyl late into the night, dancing with the music pulling me to and fro, that is enough.
i do not need you there to step on my feet.
- if you want to enchant me, do not speak unsure or shyly, move as if your fingernails could cause hurricane, and hold me in your arms like i am a storm just waiting to rain down its fury.
kiss me like i am a volcano, at any moment ready to erupt. however do not be cautious of this fact.
be ready to throw yourself in.
- speak french to me.
- even though it is dangerous to be attached to me (like driving a car over a cliff, to end up barely alive sinking into the restless ocean, actually), you must treat me with the utmost respect.
i will not always be happy and kind, but i will kiss you often, and i'll like touching you, and i'll like your bare, raw skin, bleeding on the pages of your journal in the late dusk of the oncoming night.
however if you think that i am your plaything, that you are using me, that i am a flimsy, easy girl, then you are deathly mistaken, prey only to your childish ignorance.
i am the universe.
i am so vast, you will never know even half of me.
i am an elaborate piece of art.
you are only a part of this journey i call my life.
- i will love you, but only if you understand that i am an endless book of poetry,
a whole bottle of wine,
a masterpiece made of golden flesh, blood of fire,
and each of my bones are engraved with stories to tell,
and i crave this life more than i will ever crave any dependency on people who i know can never
give me exactly what i want.
because i am incredibly brilliant and endless, and i hold every word to
pleasure you,
and destroy you,
on my mere tongue.
 Jan 2014 Maggie
Lappel du vide
we used to never hold hands like that,
with mine on top and yours on the bottom,
i was too small
you were towering like some office building calculations running through your mind,
yet art on the tips of your fingertips,
and I was short like the stack of books by my bed,
and it was like a mix of night and day when my hair spilled down your golden skin,
golden hair,
tousled blonde like some kind of lion lying on the bed,
veiled in a dark slumber.
you stroked my skin and it sent shivers down my back,
and kissing you was like lying in summer sun,
pleasant,
and you’re so different from what I have now,
because now I have fall kisses,
on a bed of crimson leaves,
with another blonde haired boy but this time he’s a wolf,
and this time he holds me while we are skin on skin in a forest of cattails underfoot,
the stubbed filter of a cigarette to my left,
our clothing to my right.
he’s full of fire,
it’s all over him, on his skin, branded across his face,
but I don’t love him,
i just like the way he says he loves me when he’s looking at me like sunlight filtering through leaves,
with his crystalline blues,
biting my lips with passionate ferocity
 Jan 2014 Maggie
Lappel du vide
i'd search for a boy with
honey colored hair like tousled, dry
summer grass
and a face of
sculpted
clay,
where creases are made at the edges of his eyes,
the echo of his grin.

he whispers his poetry harshly
with lips like racing animals,
his strong voice sinks into the ocean of
night
like an empty bottle
in a leaky boat.

i'll find where his lips
softly kiss the body of a
cigarette before bed.

then i'll eat some tobacco
and light myself on fire in his
sheets.
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