Angry Pen, Angry Pen, oh how I hate you Angry Pen
I wish you'd do some changing
Cause you're the only one demonstrating sin
You make me angry, Angry Pen
I know the writing can't begin
If you're too angry, angry, angry, angry
You're a raging pen
And sometimes, I just wish you'd disappear
Don't get me wrong when you're happy, I love to have you near
And when you're mad, well
It's a sad thought, cause it's never been this bad
But when you're mad I trail off like the tail of the rat
And it only gets worse
Sometimes I just wish you were in the back of a hearse
I want to put you to death
Put you to rest
And I don't mean to curse
But you **** me off angry pen
This pain isn't something I deserve
But Angry Pen, I don't understand, why you have to be so cross
Were you created that way or were you just taught
and if you want to be that way, well, then I'd rather you not
Because of you angry pen people think I'm a slob
Angry Pen, Angry Pen
How you nauseate me pen
I don't mean to be hating but I think I feel a changing wind
You used to make me angry
I used to think you were demonstrating sin
But that seems to be fading
Because I wrote this poem with the so called 'Angry Pen'

-Slang

Kimartham Saatva

Slowly essence simplifies
the All Souls curious inquiry
we question and ponder
we dwell and lull our minds to wake,
grasp entreatments to effortlessly and lazily
assist the slow pull from deep in the cave.

We struggle,
strain
our muscles, wring them round
squeezing us into stress and anxiety,
anxiety's merciless choke around your throat,
smashing our hearts between guilt and shame.

Shame, you have no shame!
Good! God Bless the Shameless!

Those who fear God, don't get “it.”
They don't hear its love-filled breath through the trees
they don't feel the truth in a handful of pacific sand
they don't see epiphany in the vast, soft, rolling expanse
of the supple, green morning hills gathering the mist-fog close
to the young glitters of the valley lake,
the peace-keeping mountain peaks.
They don't think of Music of as its own universe.

When we jump off diving boards, or seashore cliffs,
those few short seconds of airborne flight-falling
Prove
We need to challenge our mortality.
Climb that mountain, that hill, that jungle gym!
Climb those cliffs, those rooftops, those fences!

Doubt is a sickly, ******* life-leech.
Fear not Doubt, nor its debilitating effects.
Fear not Love, nor the fear love may breed.

Compare nothing and no one and none.
Comparing brings the misconception of the past-you and the now-you
with the misunderstanding of the someone-else.
It's completely countereffective and can put you at a new low.
But if you compare nothing and no one and none,
the result will astound your heart and mind and eyes.
You'll jump, fall, and crash into the water quickly, and be
Enveloped by Enthusiasm Vibrant.
If nothing is compared, there will be nothing different happening than what is exactly happening at this very moment
and nothing to doubt, nothing to disappoint,
Nothing to Fear.

I am grateful for every instance of
Every temporal, circumstantial, emotional, conceptual, verbal, aural, visual change in perspective and understanding
comprehension - “getting it” - is as rare as real.
True truth is simplicity of self and possessions and ties and responsibilities;
The splendor of the Ideal Utopia is
The sacrifice of complexity and adoption of isolation simplicity.
Isolation – separation from the socially dependent on the acceptable.

The closest you could ever reach nirvana quickly:
******.
Sensual ecstasy
Tangible overload
Absolute deprivation in the convulsions of pleasure
because it's the utter absence of the sense of self.

Why else would we welcome our ******* with
Affirmative cries
oh yes yes yes!
That startle our neighbors from their lifeless slumber.
Remember, when they pound on the wall and demand that you cease your path to nirvana,
They are simply blushing in awe at your shameless approach.
They are doubting their capacity,
fearing the possibility of an inability
To Be Free.

Cast Doubt and Fear from your mind,
Maybe you've heard this before,
But in a different context.
Maybe you've been told not to doubt or question or skepticize
the concept of sin or the authority of the Bible.
I heard it all throughout my childhood.
I heard stories that incited fear and shame and guilt and confusion
and I heard lessons of love and morality and sin and authority and exceptionalism and arrogancism and mercilessness
that only made sense if taken in objectionless.
When I Thought, all I could hear in my mind was -
What the **** is all this?
Excessivity – how does the grandeur of cathedrals not nauseate you?
Obvious manipulation of the awe we possesss.

We own nothing of nature yet we insist on state and country lines,
on property, on political parties, on religious beliefs, on ****** orientation,
on wealth and health and age and wage.
Stop the ******* belief in “otherness!”
There is only ONENESS.

We delight in friendship and family and small talk and deep talk and ***
Because
They remind us
There is and is no otherness or oneness
there's only Noneness
there's only Oneness
Omni-nothingness.

Shadows of pain block the sun
Joy turns sour in the shade
Twisted desires nauseate
Self-hatred masquerades in smiles
Demons come out to play
Casting nets in daylight
Trapping hearts and twisting dreams
Nightmares turn beautiful in time
Charcoal and ash
Charcoal and ash
Burn memories into scars
Marking territory
Claiming all they see
Making them beg to be taken
Beg for more
Begging for the honor
To be twisted unrecognizable
Freedom in acceptance
Relinquishing all
Feasting on the beating hearts
Of the innocently depraved
Gambling souls
Playing for keeps

The rush of gentle wind overwhelms me--
meaning only to propel me,
but instead
it makes me stop.

The thoughts in my mind
nauseate me--
churning and spinning and crashing
along my sides,
Mutinous--
threatening to throw me over.

From wave after wave
of connections unknown
all I have learned is that
I cannot surrender.

This current state of being,
A byproduct of my upbringing,
To a shred of sanity I'm clinging.
I'm condemned, I am ******
It's not like this was planned.

Those pesky chemicals are a torrential rain,
Carried 'round by cerebrospinal fluid in the brain,
Are unbalanced, unregulated. I am agitated.
Emotions now unchained.

The feelings I suppressed
Now a hysterical, pathetic, crying mess
This silent monster is cunning and bold
Has defiantly stepped over my mental threshold
The more I try to ignore
The more intense the outpour

The heart drops into the stomach,
Unpleasant pulsating in my ear canal
I tremble uncontrollably
I obsess over thoughts until they nauseate me

Down a rabbit hole I'm going
Due to insufficient dopamine and serotonin
The ideas of inadequacy and failure are growing

As logical a girl I am
To these irrational thoughts I am ******,
I attempt to talk myself out of it
But my reasoning just won't fit
No matter how hard I try
I cannot find a reason why...

At this point my heart is racing
From the epinephrine rush, I am pacing
Back and forth across the floor
In and out the bedroom door

You have no idea how happy I'd be
To have a life of "normalcy"
No matter how much I plead and plead
This quiet monster won't take its leave
At my wit's end, my sanity's gone,
I'm all out of my Buproprion.

Rebels rise to take to the streets
With sickening thoughts of powerful cheats.
"We can show resistance to their cowardly words"
But, God forbid we offend as we curse.

Defy, refuse and disobey orders
Maybe one day we'll find ourselves in warmer waters.
Whilst the suppressed may just nauseate,
The depressed don't even have the will to debate.

The revolt may not be the action we take,
But the feelings we get from liars and fakes.
These statements suggesting the minority can overthrow
Well, they're big,but they're certainly not for show.

My stomach churns for the people on farms
Claiming that we should take up arms.
Waiting for the day the firearms cease
Though we may never face just one true peace.

Your name has a bitter
taste, like cologne. A muggy
sweet scent that deceived me so easily.
I always tried
to spit it out, but the spray
stuck fast
to the roof of my mouth.
Made me heady,
heavy. Sleepy. I started nodding,
going. Wake me up later,
give me a month or two.
Shake me when the sight of the back
of you won't phase me.
Shout when your eyes and your smile don't nauseate me.
Please let me sleep off the feeling
of losing again. Of everything slipping
into the ocean, of my life
crumbling and cracking open like old brick walls and peeling front doors
and old wardrobes.
I thought you could be
that breath of fresh air I needed so badly,
to come rushing in when the bell jar
cracked open.
But you weren't,
you weren't anything special,
you were an Oxfam shop
bottle of cheap perfume.

I.
I do not see the (woman) hidden in the forest.

II.
I am attempting to justify myself in your eyes.  I care very little whether I seem to anyone to exist.

--------------------------------
Let your eyes rest on me,
Among the uninformed debris,
After their illicit glancings,
And their numerous advancings,
    I do not want your eyes on me:
Eyes that land yet never cease
Their wanderings and wonderings
On the color of my under things,
   And nauseate with their caprice.

While the scattered rest on the checkered floor
Position adjacent to the banquets,
Ask for more before
The completion of their pigs in blankets;
They ask for more,
As they lick their fingers free of grease
While discussing sports and Credit Suisse…

Perhaps I’ll have one - but just one,
I don’t want to become
    obese
Like a corpse distended in an attic -

I wish it had been me they licked their fingers of;
I wish that it is them I lick my fingers of…

There are eyes on me, I assume
As I rush to the little girls' room.

The truths of comets and little girls,
Death and a young girl
Skulk on painted toes in the murk,
Where Death and a young girl lurk:

    He is with a mannequin in the back,
Hugging it tight in order to lift,
Though the limbs are limp and head is slack,
He brims with hope
    Like a panner with his sift.

I go away and leave you now, I leave you and
go away.

    I know what it is to sprawl
Prostrate and empty in a stall
With these squalid fingers,
To hear the snickers and the whispers;
    I wish that it is me they lick their fingers of,

As they powder their noses
Then emerge from the gloom smelling roses,
They go away and leave me, they leave me and
go away.

   To know what it is to say,
“I am beautiful, o mortals, like a dream in stone!”
In a most definitely denigrating tone,
Though my words and eyes betray;
Or boast that my expertise is
    Spotting a prosthesis,
To call attention to one if I see it
   on display,
    [Including the curator’s toupee];
Or to pop a squat
On his prize Jean-Michel Basquiat,
    [Though He is my personal Jesus!]
You go away and leave me now, you leave me and
go away.

    He is with a mannequin on the checkered floor,
And when he is completed
He licks his fingers and asks for more;
I would show him my portrait and say
    “Ceci n’est pas une moi,”
And agree to disagree,
I would show them my portrait and say
    “This is not a me,”
And they would laugh at my simplicity,
Then whisper hatefully and frown
Into one another’s ear
How they wish they could fit into my evening gown,
     I wish I could dwindle down
And fit into an opaque sphere.

This is not a me, the powdered nose,
The needle between painted toes,
The creak of leather, the swinging chains,
The clumps of hair swirling in drains,
There is still beauty in blackened veins -
Was there beauty in these veins?
Mascara streaks like silent shrieks,
Do your eyes still rest on me?
I would cut them from your face,
But I need lines for me to trace,
Lines to guide me where to cut.
Do not take your eyes from me,
I will not be precise if they are shut.  
Do not go away and leave me now, do not leave me and
go away.

Do I drift between stations,
Bow and curtsy, nod and smile,
Titter courteously at prevarications,
    Struggling to suppress the bile? -

    “Oh my goodness, she got so big!”  
    “Yes, she must be back at it again” -
    “But I love her book club” -
    “Oh my goodness, me too!”
    “Ha ha!”
    “Ha ha.”

There are so many with me, so many eyes,
So many hands resting on my thighs…
I cannot find a solitude,
This is not a solitude.
    
I am a beautiful use of negative space.

I count my age in eyes I detect,
The older I grow, the less I collect.
    Time leaves us out of focus…

I do not want to grow old…I will not grow old,
Unless my mind loses hold.

In this sepulchral cattle car
    We ride,
Like cattle to the abattoir,
With our patron saints beside,
    We take them all along for the ride.
This is all so familiar,
    So familiar…So familiar…
Do I want it?
Time to gargle a gin and tonic
While being shocked catatonic.
Your eyes will still be with me in my vacant sleep,
To function as my guide.
Break me into bread and partake till no sign of me
lingers,
    They have all been taken for a ride,
And even God will lick His fingers.

You infiltrate my thoughts
Sporadically throughout the day
And haunt my dreams
Occasionally throughout the night

We might not speak
During the day
But boy by night
Let's just say
You come out to play

But now
You nauseate me
And frustration seeps through
The surface
Of my body
Permeating the air
With my "love" for you
As my nose recoils from the stench
And it sickens me
To my core

I wait for the day
Where you
My "boy"
become a
faint
distant memory
that I have to
struggle
To remember

One, two, three, four,
I can't take these words anymore,
And maybe, maybe you were right,
And I can't win this fight,
If I don't know what I'm fighting for.

And you, you called me all the names,
I'm a ***** its a game,
And you ended it before, before it became,
Became what I wanted what I needed
And I'm shamed.
Shamed that I cared,
Shamed that I groveled,
Shamed I was scared.
And I let you walk over me,
Me. The scarred queen bee,
I offered you my heart and gave you the key
And you played me.

And maybe, maybe you were right,
And I can't win this fight,
If I don't know what I'm fighting for anymore.

And they say,
Beer before liquor never sicker,
But I beg to differ,
Because the words that you say nauseate,
And if I could I would recreate
That feeling.
But words, words,
They just don't come out,
Sitting here in silence when I want to shout.
The things that I say get so twisted and abused,
Maybe forgotten is better then used.

And maybe, maybe you were right,
And I can't win this fight,
When I don't know what I'm fighting for anymore.

I gave you my heart
And you tore it apart,
And I know I should have saw it,
Should have stopped it,
Should have dropped it,
But you can't blame a girl for her fantasy.
In a world where they want to throw her down,
down,
face up on the ground,
Broken dreams and beliefs
Lying all around,
And I can't see the stars anymore.

And maybe you were right,
And I can't win this fight,
When I don't know what I'm fighting for.
Not anymore.

I wash my hands constantly, as the smell of anything unnatural makes me uneasy. I smell the tips of my fingers and the palms of my hands nervously; the smell of metal, carpet, and reluctance all trapped between my fingers nauseate me. I run to the sink and pump soap into my hands before frantically rubbing them together, forming as many bubbles as possible.

I only like my hands when they smell like soap or oranges or lavender.

I have nightmares about you during the day. I sit awake and wonder how much of you was real and how much is just sound that I created in a desperate leap for love. The leap I swore I would take over and over again.

There is paint on my arms and my hands right now and all I can think about is how i wish I were an artist
I wish i could draw myself into things the way I can push myself into things that hurt

My mom told me I am brave that I am fearless that I just do things
but I think I am reckless with myself
the way I run into pain face first and tear into it with my fists over
and over again
I have never been afraid of change
The way pain rolls over you and makes your stomach convulse
your whole body week and your sobs so huge that they don’t make sound beyond the frantic gasp for air at the end

I have always been to proud of being human
for some reason I think that the way I feel the way I live is somehow monumental
running into things over and over again

I've been really, really anxious lately.
Like, there's this giant knot
In my chest.
And I just keep tugging
And tugging
But it won't loosen.

It keeps getting tighter
Like a noose.
I can barely breathe.
My heart is pounding louder
Then my thoughts.

I don't know if I
Just can't hear them,
Or if they're not there
At all.

My old dance company,
It no longer exists.
To put it short,
They finally got their new name.
Elements.

Maybe that's what I feel.
Elements.

There's fire.
In my heart.
Anger, I guess.
A lust for movement;
For joy.
Waiting to be filled.

But at the same time,
I'm full of ice.
Shivering.
Like a rat in a storm drain.
Is that all I am?

I miss the Earth.
Being outside.
When I was a little kid,
Now, I'm sorry, this is gross.
When I was a little kid,
And I'm talking like one or two.
I used to be that kid
That would lick ants off of rocks.

Like one time,
And we have it on film.
One time it got so bad that
I had to take an outdoor shower.
My mom hosed me down
right in front of the big tree
outside my apartment.

Now I can't even listen to
The rain,
Without gagging.
The stench.
That terrible stench.
Worms are worse
then rotting corpses.
I can handle week-old roadkill
With the windows open.
But a summer storm
Will nauseate me.

I miss when I was a little kid,
And water made me happy.
I miss being happy.

Elements.
It's bittersweet.
Not like dark chocolate strawberries sweet.
Like, the world is crumbling at my feet,
but at least I have you sweet.
Like, you make the sourest moments
Into the brightest ray of sunshine.

There is nothing I love more than you.
There is no one I love more than you.
I had no idea that I would miss
dancing so much.
That I would miss
You so much.

I am trying to make friends.
I am.
I am trying to find a family.
But what's the point?
You. You are my family.
I feel like ****,
Thinking that I could ever replace you.

But what else can I do?
I can't go back.
I told myself I could.
I told you I could.
I told you I would.
But I lied.

I can't predict the future.
When I promised you,
My love, when I lied to you,
I thought nothing would change.

But you changed your name.
You moved away.
And I did too.
And now I don't have the courage
to face you again.
I said goodbye.
And maybe that was a mistake,
But it's too late for me to change my mind.
I can't turn back the clock.
Just like you can't turn back yours.

Without you,
I am so lonely.
I am so ******* lonely.

I miss your hugs.
And the smile they'd bring to me.
If I could wrap up those emotions,
And sell them by the bottle,
I'd be able to buy a plane ticket
And fly to you.
Just to get another hug in person.

If I could just get one text back.
A single text.
It would mean the world.

And you,
If you could stay off that phone
For one minute.
And talk to me instead of him,
Show me any ounce,
Of that empty, empty word.
Maybe I could try to find
Its meaning again.

I feel like a rectangular peg,
Shoving myself into a circular hole,
And I've tried to file myself down.
I've tried to fit.
But I am never going
To be a circle.

I've looked for things to replace you.
Other groups I can
shove my attention into.
They all just tighten the knots.
Each one grabs a piece of string,
Tugging every single direction,
Each wanting me to snap.

Maybe the world is just too
Dark for me to ever get
A good picture.

Maybe I haven't lived in one
Dark enough to turn it into light.

Maybe I'll never be good
Enough for poetry.
Just like I was never
good enough for you.
My picture wasn't good
Enough in the air,
So I tried taking one myself.
And I tried again.
And again.
And again.

They all seemed so nice.
But I don't even know their names.
I could never reach out to them.
Get to know them as I've known you.

I have never felt so alone
In my life.
In a room filled with people,
How could I be the only one there?
In an empty room,
How can so many eyes
Be staring at me?
Just waiting
For me to make another mistake.
To **** up.
Again,
And again,
And again.

For I'm just a child,
Starving for attention.
And I've never even heard of this game.

I go to sleep every night,
Hoping, praying,
To wake up.
In my own bed.
My dog at my feet.

I want to go back to the studio.
I want to hug you all,
One by one.
Promise that I will never
Fall asleep again.
I want to wake up from this nightmare.

I want her to make us a beautiful dance.
I want to see her smile.
A coffee in hand,
Light radiating out of
Every atom in her body.

I want to forget again,
And be scared shitless
Of disappointing you.
I want to put all the hate
I have for myself onto you.
I want you to hate me,
So that I don't have to.

I want to go back to that
Purple dressing room.
With the masks on the walls.
When that room still had a sense of calm.
I want to sit down on the white bench,
And look at you atop the window.
I want to see your smile.

I miss tapping.
Being loud.
Making noise.
I want to make sound,
Without that sound
Being annoying.

Because after every
Word I say,
I want to claw out my
Vocal cords,
And never return.
I want to be silent again.

I want to see your face,
When I finally felt free.
I wish I could go back.
I wish I could say yes.
I wish I hadn't said goodbye.

I want to pull into that
Parking space.
Overlooking the pond.
I want to go back to that day,
Where I sat on a donkey.
And you on the branch.
And we laughed.
And we played.
Like little kids.

I miss the cheeseburgers
We ate at Culver's.
I miss exploring the theatre.
Hiding behind the door,
That we could never look inside,
And trying not to fall
Down that platform
Near the stairs.
Because we didn't shy
Away from fun
Just to avoid getting hurt.
I wish I could let myself get hurt.

I want to fight with my sister.
To prove to her that dance is more
A sport than soccer ever could be,
I want to sit in her room,
And pretend to care about whatever's
On the television,
Just so I can see her face.
And hear her voice.
And feel her presence.

I want to watch television
With Dad.
I want us to talk
About something other than science.
I want to go on a walk.
Look at the stars.
I wish you would have
taken me camping.
Because I was wrong.
I did want to go.
I do want to go.

I miss seeing all of you
At the benches
Before school started.
I miss my locker,
And how you would write me notes.
I miss you grabbing my phone every time
I looked away,
And filling up my storage
With useless videos
That I cannot stop watching.

I miss loving the people I'm with.
I miss happiness.
And it hurts.
Because I knew things would change,
I did.
But I didn't know
That nothing would be the same.
I just want something to be the same.

You two nauseate me,
And I hardly know you.

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, still moving?

that ego of mine
will be the death of that spine
that nose in the sky
in dooms when thinking a fly
like black & white tiles
still moving right & left not high
can't help the crave of the cold
the one for the illusionary stillness been sold
yet what coldness do you see?
the one that shelters a shell of pure heat in me?
foreigners despise them borders
them feels excluding a hexagonal soldier
do you indulge that part of my be?
the one them thoughts seem to poke my free?
or that urge to write the sights surrounding
worship the floor those souls float a grounding
don't ask which is which
let it comedown on me let it slip let it stitch
a reflection of the past some mindless ghosts fabricated
a reason to a reason to be reasoned on my chapters situated
clinging lines & yearning for the words to utter record letters
something for the universe to swallow in feathers
have them digestions rip in shreds their tongues
nauseate the trachea from those lungs
but I rest it forgive forgave & let it be away
forget not shall stay
tired of the things they never admit to a said
yet my satisfaction of looking back entrapped a bled
makes me deny a defeat
for the respite of jubilance wasn't a retreat
pushed my feet to that lake
put a pen to a paper & called me on stake
never have I ever said yes to a dawn
for that dusk my hopes come clean & drawn
jumping on one single foot loose
holding my own form on an one-ended-noose

                                                ­                      ------ravenfeels