Inside my ears, away from the moving mouth, jolly potatoes in sprout.
they sing and sway in my golden fertile valley of wax,
and when the moving mouth outside  is talking of her dead cat,
they sing merry tunes that make me smile and laugh,
but then they hear the mountain thunder which is her slap.
The village elder potatoe watches for the wind and hail,
and the fire in sky which is her red polished nail.
This wise potato's beard protects his flock,
She trims his beard when she cuts my ear hair off,
And when her eye stares inside,
The bravest potatoes go fight and die,
" You need to clean out your ears, you haven't heard a word I said..."
Hundred potaytets safe, ten hero potatoes dead,
There is no crying for the Spartan spud,
Who the Cyclops had smooshed to mud,
For their bodies dry up into chips,
That crunch out the sound of an angry ditz,
They never stop,
Ever since I was six,
And my wedges, singing me a ditty,
Most charming and beautiful in all my city,
I giggled to " hey hoo ***** boy, let's roll in the wax"
And everyone at the funeral stared at me aghast.
Oh well, maybe they are right, and I a fool,
For educating myself within my golden school,
But I know first came my laugh, and it was alive,
graves it could not attach, so it reversed within to survive,
They sing and sway in my fertile valley of wax,
The village elder potato plods on with his staff,
Giving thanks to the wax builder,
And like a maestro, directs the valley to give the builder back his laugh,
And a young potato stick in a long dress,
And a sleeveless shirt,
Sings the solo in golden concert,
" they hate me baby, they make me baby, and I'm gold and they are dirt,
It is they my baby that are absurd,
Oooh oh, boss me around my king, your laughter makes me sing."

And when my name was wrong in the obituary of my father I began to laugh,
And at me everyone was mad,
My ear potatoes sing and dance,
In the golden valley of wax,
And the village elder potato plods on with his beard and staff.
And there is no more mountain thunder, no more slap,
No more Cyclops's eye,
The Spartan spuds are farmers now and don't have to die.
And my laughter flows out like a river from the  golden canal inside.

Here darling,
rest your neck on my knife
and I'll cut us both a slice of peace.

I was raised on ridicule
Scorn and blaming.
Belittling laughter
Jokes and shaming.
Though nobody who knew
Seems to doubt it
They sure as hell wish I
Would shut up about it.

That’s just the way it is today.
Abused children, it seems
Upset people; therefore they
Are best not heard, just seen.

Four Eyes, Toothpick and Brat
These are a few of the names.
You might as well call them freaks
And creeps. It amounts to the same.
Screwup, ******, fumblefingers,
Bones, Spazz and Stumblebum.
Pantywaist, wussy, ditz and then
Plenty more where those came from.

From birth to death it seems
Sometimes, throughout all of life
Some people just don’t care
That scorn can cut like a knife.

It makes people question
Every move they might make
When somebody keeps on
Calling them things like flake.
The condemnation and rebuke
Aren’t covered up by the laughter.
People should question deeply
The effect they think they are after.

So cut the kids a break
It won’t turn out wrong
And the ridicule of a child
Can last their whole life long.

What foes or friends do we perceive when we connect by chance conceived?

Would you care to explain how this is my fault?

Pray tell tis Joseph come to his census.
Come nigh so late to what truth evinces.

Four heed own Lay won knot thin kit sis...

Prays got a buff!
Fine uh Lee…

Coarse sit duhs pour ten dove baa doe mens.
Naughty ville purse say! Oar eve in dud ark Om end...

Shell Ira Bjorn ease? Orb headers till yore effete?

Ike ant aft tub Abe eave oar yew yen owe...

Wall oh win knit.
Gore Ida head.

Yuck use amoeba *** is hint umm eye fall tis zit?
Yuck cues amoeba ditz nada tall mite urn toot ache tub lame.

Bub I...
Hope Joe Ill step pup two wit all
Irie lay trill lee dew

The shot across the nation,
the pounding in your head,
the light and ditz sensation,
limbs light as lead.

The focus of the rebel,
the runway of the needy,
the escape of every label,
better off dead.

The burning force of throttle,
the coughing, shaking grimace,
Your satan-in-a-bottle,
despair's only penance.

If I look into the mirror,
and see the scars are healing,
I learn the more "right" it does,
the more it is revealing.

what if i just was?

when you zone out, where do you go?

if you look at anything long enough it turns into exactly what you were looking for.

i am looking for nowhere.

hiding in what was.

i want to be in between the lines of my childhood memories,
in between the folds of time
in the solid swaths of color

huffing on emotional echoes.

i want to be in the stills from a movie, but not the running film.

where do ditzy people go when they ditz?

i want to live in the moment before you wake up, when you nuzzle into the void between consciousness and unconsciousness

the in between inhale and exhale

how do i know what words to let out of my
brain
mouth
?

who is the author of my thoughts?
what is making me write this?

i want to be mad
delirious

just be.

i am.

its okay.

Meeting someone who finally cared
Made my heart beam little rays of sunshine through my nerves.
I wanted to be the person you admired as well.

I was at a point in my life
Everything was changing.
I was transitioning from one end of the spectrum to the other.

Yet being the ditz I can be,
I let my fingers type out the words
"I was contemplating suicide."
Thinking only that'd you'd think someone who was in such a "dark" place
Could be a friend.

I now consider myself a monstrous idiot for not stopping my ravenous little digits
And thinking.
What would this cause me?

It caused me a long afternoon in a counselor's busy office
A long night in the hospital meant for those who actually were hurting
And an even longer day at school afterwards.
It caused me to worry everyone
When it was only my selfish little desires of being "that" girl.
The one who's been through so much, who's so cool because she's survived the pain
The one who is nevertheless on the edge.
When I wasn't.

I want to give you my complete, utter, sincere apology
For making your heart beat faster for the wrong reason.
For making your mind shake with worry.

It's about time they invented the time machine, don't you think?

Listen. Look, I know I talk too much and I may rant a lot, but if you just listen that's enough. I don't want advice, just acknowledgement and a hug.

2. Laugh. I may drop all the contents of my purse when I flirt with the cashier. I'm never perfectly groomed. I trip on my own two feet. I sing at the top of my lungs off key to the Frozen Soundtrack. I will use you to smack when my laughter gets me. I love cheesy puns and terrible anti-jokes.

3. Mean it. I'm both cynical and passionate. Don't take my ****, but don't leave for no reason. My heart is broken. I'm not asking you to fix it. Just don't lie and hurt it worse. Please.

4. Kiss. Don't be afraid. Grab me and kiss me and pin me down and have me. Love me. I don't believe in simplicity. When we make love, make love. It's supposed to feel like something.

5. Live. Let's take a walk in the rain so I can wear my galoshes and jump in puddles. Tease me because I **** at being a vegetarian and then buy me some chicken. Hold me when I cry because I'm tired of abandonment. Don't let me go when I try to leave. Ask me to marry you with a hot sauce packet at Taco Bell. Look at my pinterest. Read my poetry. Play monopoly. Be sarcastic. Call me a *****. Dance and let me step on your toes. Laugh when I try to be ****. Believe in me. Don't leave.

I'm just me. And I want love. And I'll give you all I have. I can be silly and blunt and a ditz. Please, just love me through it all.

I could blame it on being a ditz…or on it being a new razor…or even that I was belting out that note at the end of for the first time in forever from frozen
But in reality I know it’s just me…wanting to make sure I can still feel something cuz I’m so **** numb again

Aye! Foreign Eye; tooth for a truth! you gnome eyne  sane? Troot I owe ewe nah, youths dunno, you fin nah Noll. *** eye us fin nah per se, foe Theo Theo, ewe know  O you no, enter ups shun, wot in the hex dies...  jest say? Dis' awe beast anaconda sate shun bout Intrusion. O Why? O Why? O Eye, ice bins scratch in at Maya -Maya, day yum eye, forests rail lea bane it she laid lea. Wear Aye, yum  Aye, yum  Ah! Yea, *** eyes us sane, isis slow ands dims sum.  Bess beefs be indy, indy, India, India, Far test fum  yore  deaf viand as understanding! O My! you  oft de deep and of diem, diem... dim niche holes. couldst I ask I such without such plea? Pulleys! Pull East! Scaly wax inner interim oh, honor too, ides doe no, disease?

Lo! Land **! Too old geese sirs seize dearth closure mead wits mine ***** eye; and Naughty Wit Stan Ding disown. Yet fervor from mine arenose ol' hail home, I hath ne'er be -admit I to I; and plead to thee, wizened dis' Beseecher's breeching beach! Shea jest dis' a-greased wit who sow error to dew sew... ***** nil eat.

And therefore store my old hat lore, as I cast in twos that sea...  Aye! thee, Foreign Eye! Truth for a truth, if truth it be, truth tell I, true to thee do I e'er be nah; e'er be I, true to thee from noun on; in air go, did jest *** you ditz dun to me, but now a blind eye a-see  a freed bird!
- I caste you one lass time in due thus see.  Cuss you beast an  false eye, my you still dunce see, still blind you be, be dissin' in my sir name an airy way, and mode in air gone come.. a-seaward.

single as a pringle and i like it that way
been a one gal show for years now, okay?
the best bed mate i ever had is my dog
she makes cute snores when she sleeps
and doesn't mess up my house
she only eats kibble, and listens to my beats

sure I get lonely, I get tired, life’s hard
but let me tell you something Mr. narrow minded louse
you think you have what it takes to get me in the sack?
caus you have a job, a ****, and truck with a gun rack?
you may be a tall drink of water on a sweat hot day
but open your mouth once and it’s a dead give away

I need kind and gentle and good conversation
to teach and learn with some motivation
on fire passion and serious connection

I've already lost you, it’s not worth the trouble
go home to your mama and pop your Bud Light
cry and whine about the utter ***** you met tonight
borrow twenty bucks and get a 12 pack
then go find a ditz to rub your back

check this out, I've got a plan
I’ll go home by myself yet again
without your number, don’t need another friend
I’m fine by myself, just me and my dog
I’ll wait until the next life just watch me
because honey, being alone trumps misery

flushed cheeks
from your cold walk here.
your red jacket
scented with smoke.
white snowflakes
rest in your fluffy hair.
is your hair blonde or brunette?
i always wonder.
you're so smart.
but you're such a ditz.
your hair is ***** blonde.
your eyes are the color of a winter morning's sky.
a beautiful blue-gray.
the kind of eyes
that are gray when sad,
blue when happy.
i crave that blue
but lately i've been getting your gray.
i miss your smile.
that smile you think is yellow?
the teeth you're sure are crooked beyond compare?
they're adorable.
you're perfect.
smoke scented, snow laced you.

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.”

12/6/2015
"Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence."
TS eliot, the wasteland

I am amberbeetle,
  stoked fire,
medicated ditz

I ramble through the wasteland,
hook foot and slackjaw
and go south in the winter.

you gave me asters a year ago
now they call me aster girl
memory almost always mixed with

desire,
and I
should've been

a pair of ragged claws
but that's a different poem.
We talked for an hour

maybe more
in the summer,
and he said

hold tight,
and I was was frightened,
and down we went.

Swiss instigation,
broken video tapes and
grimacing at sweaty sunsets

sunrises, and
there was no Japanese maple
no silver leaf,

no silver lining,
I read much of the night.
roots that clutch me in

metropolitan
rubble,
and these days

the broken deadtree gives
no shelter, no consummation
no conjugal embrace,

I don't find,
nor am I
the hanged man

"And I'd do it any other way
but when the hell am I gonna get a gun?
and you can't OD on clonepazam

without it being ugly of course."
Dorothy Parker–
I planted a corpse in my yard

Who am I kidding,
we did,
me with some assistance

It was carrion
found in the corridor
did it sprout?

it did,
but not in the way I hoped-
no carrot flowers or crabapple

in fact it was held up
by fruit vines
that illuminated it for all to see

including me.
In the sad sad light a
carved seraphim

melted into the laqueria
my nerves, they're bad tonight
and every night

stay with me
Speak with me
breed

in the rats alley
and lose your bones

On twitter, he's the twit,
And he does it without wit.
His twits aren’t worth a ****,
But still he just won’t quit.
He’s such an outrageous ***;
An obviously halfwitted twit
Whose lightbulb isn’t quite lit
So spoiled, he doesn’t know it.

He constantly throws late night fits
And calls all of his betters twits.
Seems to have a case of mental zits.
We really want to kick him where he sits.
He never found education a good fit,
To him, being rich is as good as it gets.
He argues based on just tats for ****
He hoards every dime he gets in his mitts.

He thinks his taste is the Ritz
But it’s much more like the pits,
Made up like some madame’s kit.
Always the tackiest kind of glitz.
But any place this fat pig sits
Soon is covered with gaudy bits
Like some fairy tale ogre ditz.

Chronic insomnia must be the pits
Early morning hours, there he sits
Posting on the internet, collecting hits
Driving the Liberals out of their wits.
His ideas are the absolute pits
Even though copied by Brits
And they give sane people fits;
A lot like living through The Blitz.

We were a country that lived near the equator;
I was the land and you were my infinite sky.
We have lived and witnessed our aeons together.
Each moment fleeting, and passing by.  

The wind whispers, and the creatures rumble
weeping for me the unfair weather I hold
Only the dry seasons and the rainy seasons come by
and the sky, he's always done what he's always told.

When he cries, he creates floods and storms
or peaceful drizzles and ditz so plain
and when's angered, he takes right up
the moistened land and then grants me pain.

At night, he's terribly beautiful and quiet
the stars twinkle like stickers on my attic
The silent love, and the prolonged memories
and what he holds, goes far beyond semantics.

I sung, "Precious sky, I am your earth
the land you watch with clouds and dew."
And he replied, "Pretty land, you are my purpose
and there's nothing to take me from you."

I am your silly girl—
Yet here you stand, invested;
despite the smirk that pulls across your lips when you consider something smarmy.

I am your silly girl—
I blurt the ridiculous ramblings as they manifest behind my developing expression.
The flash of that very specific grin
when you’ve figured me out;
(you’re always figuring me out before I do)
followed by the briefest pause as you weigh your advancing words carefully:
Boy, I am enjoying this.
You’re so polite when you set me in my place, and it makes me want to kiss your face
Again and again and again.

I am your silly girl:
Paint stained fingers, tipped with clashing colors on cheap acrylic.
A homage to the blonde headed ditz with soul
A role I’ve always envied, but had been too smart to relax into.
(I stir my black coffee with twizzler sticks and eat lucky charms at midnight)

It has been so exhausting to exist without you:
Isn’t that funny?
I have spent thirty years establishing my lonely ant hill above everyone and everything else,
But within hours, I abandoned it all
to live among your interpretation of the world,
where I seek your translation every day.

Before you got here, I sought the validation that I was smart by ******* stupid men.
Today,
I have never felt as smart as I do, having decided to let myself love you.
I am your silly girl.

First outings (not a date exactly).
someone you’re impressed with.
You trot out your best anecdotes
and venture small confidences.

You have to decide which “you” to show
- the serious-seeming student, the ditz,
the pianist, the Tom Brady fan, the writer.

He does an impression of Tom Hanks
that was very good and very funny.
“It could have been worse,” I said,
but he knew what I meant.
“It’s my party trick,” he said.

I thought of a long ago prom after-party
- a guy removing my earrings with his tongue -
sending chills up and down me and grinning with pearls in his lips.

We’re here, in the new, the now
but we’re married to memories.

You expect me to curtsy,
but what I do is bend and break my bones.
You expect me to be soft-spoken,
I am raised on curses in three languages,
I have five deities and I write poetry!
You expect me to act refined,
but I am a woman dulled by violence.
And when you expect me to be dull,
I'll be as sharp as a stick up your *******.
You expect me to act sweet,
I am raised in Manila, you little *****!
You expect me to be quiet or sophisticated,
but I am a ******* Filipina, you ditz!
So no,
I cannotㅡand will not curtsy.
Nor will I bend and break either.
I will not be soft-spoken.
The last thing I will be is refined.
I will be sharp and smart as a whip.
To hell with acting sweet!
Asking a girl silenced by time to be quiet?
And a true Manileña to be sophisticated?
𝘏𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘱 𝘬𝘢! I’ll make you wish you’re dead.