"socked" poems
Sleepmonger,
deathmonger,
with capsules in my palms each night,
eight at a time from sweet pharmaceutical bottles
I make arrangements for a pint-sized journey.
I'm the queen of this condition.
I'm an expert on making the trip
and now they say I'm an addict.
Now they ask why.
WHY!
Don't they know that I promised to die!
I'm keeping in practice.
I'm merely staying in shape.
The pills are a mother, but better,
every color and as good as sour *****
I'm on a diet from death.
Yes, I admit
it has gotten to be a bit of a habit-
blows eight at a time, socked in the eye,
hauled away by the pink, the orange,
the green and the white goodnights.
I'm becoming something of a chemical
mixture.
that's it!
My supply
of tablets
has got to last for years and years.
I like them more than I like me.
It's a kind of marriage.
It's a kind of war where I plant bombs inside
of myself.
Yes
I try
to **** myself in small amounts,
an innocuous occupatin.
Actually I'm hung up on it.
But remember I don't make too much noise.
And frankly no one has to lug me out
and I don't stand there in my winding sheet.
I'm a little buttercup in my yellow nightie
eating my eight loaves in a row
and in a certain order as in
the laying on of hands
or the black sacrament.
It's a ceremony
but like any other sport
it's full of rules.
It's like a musical tennis match where
my mouth keeps catching the ball.
Then I lie on; my altar
elevated by the eight chemical kisses.
What a lay me down this is
with two pink, two orange,
two green, two white goodnights.
Fee-fi-fo-fum-
Now I'm borrowed.
Now I'm numb.
12.3k
Cola and Crown
Cola and Crown
Burns coming up
But, smooth going down
Cola and Crown
Cola and Crown
Burns coming up
But, smooth gong down
Sitting at the tavern
Needed courage
Drank four shots
Downed them in six seconds
Now, I didn't feel so hot
Stumbled to the dance floor
Room was spinning
So was I
Four shots in just six seconds
Felt like I was gonna die
Waitress pushed on by me
Saw that I had paid my dues
Four shots in just six seconds
I threw up on her new shoes
Cola and Crown
Cola and Crown
Burns coming up
But, smooth going down
Cola and Crown
Cola and Crown
Burns coming up
But, smooth gong down
She screamed and i just wobbled
Then she socked me with her tray
She gave me four shots in six seconds
Now, on the floor I lay
From now on when I'm drinking
I'm drinking beer, no matter what
I've got two black eyes to show me
Four in six ain't that hot
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
I COULDN'T GO OUTSIDE IN CASE I GOT ZIKA,
BUT THERE WAS NO WAY I WAS GOING TO GET WEAKER,
I MET RONALDO, AT A FIFA PARTY AS YOU GO,
AND MESSI AND NEYMAR WHO HAD NOWHERE .. .. ,
THEY SAY THAT INDONESIA IS TO BE ATTACKED BY TERRORISTS,
BUT WE'VE HAD ENOUGH OF TORNADOES AND EXTREMISTS,
NAOMI SOCKED SOMEONE ELSE ON A BA PLANE,
AFTER DIVORCE, CHARLTON WON'T BE THE SAME AGAIN,
ENGLAND'S VOTING TO STAY WITH EUROPE OR NOT,
MOST DON'T GIVE A S.... , THEY'LL SAY THEY FORGOT,
TRUMP CONTINUES TO BORE US AND DEPLORE MOST,
DON'T LET MONEY BUY OR ENTERTAIN HIS ILLITERATE BOAST;
WE'LL GET ON WITH OUR LIVES, DON'T NEED THOSE GUYS,
THEY SHOULD REMEMBER THAT SOME THINGS ARE NOT GOVERNED BY THEIR SIZE.
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 8:16 AM UTC
It’s early Friday afternoon and,
over plates of greasy spoon dinner,
the musician and the businessman
repeat their weekly ritual.
The businessman has his problems at home
and spills his guts to his musician friend.
“It’s been a real long time coming,
but she’s still been such a bitter *****
They’ve met this way since
their college days and nights
spent studying the bottoms
of whiskey bottles. And, as usual,
the businessman’s hair sits sprawled
on his head like a rag, and his tie
is loosened. The musician doesn’t understand
divorce: “You look like hell.
You know, if you need a place to stay,
Helen and I and the boy
can always make some room for you.”
They light a pair of cigarettes and wait
for a waitress to kick them out.
Into the haze of a Lower East Side crowd
the musician and his band play
his newest pieces, riffs on the happy swagger
of the Duke. His critics—
and he has many—
write that his jazz sings
the inescapable *********** of suffering
through the life of every oblivious body,
which makes the musician’s music
sound more like the blues
than jazz. But it’s jazz all the same
and perhaps it was the intensity
of the growling bass that shot
spirits down the throats in the audience,
reeling drunk in time to the beat
of the musical suffering.
The weekdays die and it is Friday again.
He has a big view of midtown,
the businessman, and though the window the falling
sun horizons over his socked toes,
parked on his desk in triumph over
all those stockholders. It’s a pain
to lose your family,
but the businessman puts on
a good face, and drinks.
This Friday, the musician and the businessman
are not in the mood for talking.
But a scotch thrown down,
and the two are tighter than
thieves.
The businessman complains of life at home
and the musician’s eyes cross.
That night, the musician skips his performance.
His wife cries in their bed,
shuddering with worry and asking him
what makes him so distant? she asks—
it’s a mystery even to himself.
He is sweating whiskey—
which suits him fine—
and he spends his night on the bridge.
One week later and it is Friday, finally.
Today, the businessman will see
his children at his former home
for the last time for a handful of months
at best. The musician has not been home
for three days. He stays at a friend’s apartment,
puts on his ***** blazer
and a record of the Duke’s
before he throws himself down the airshaft.
The businessman jumps on the 5:44
out of town and calls his friend the musician
to cancel their usual Friday meeting,
but his phone keeps ringing,
ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing.
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 10:01 PM UTC
first line lips are false as a beach next mcarthur’s in chicago next the big blond takes the elevator down next pearl on the lip next shalimar stirs the canine **** all right I like that let’s start a new one do it what what do you have don’t **** up wheres the apostrophe ******* you’re cruel now back now whack it again whack it again I want it to go back whack it press it whack it okay new line
i want elevator i want uh i want don’t ask the bellboy for the time just take the elevator to what? to notions? to the lingerie shop? ah **** you grandma new line
all right one more time okay **** the gin-socked tongue that’s “soaked” period once again the elevator down paint the pretty tie (cough cough) thai next big buick big *** like fish put a ? after fish take it back take it back you ***** okay that’s not bad you do all right ah **** song of india in the desert at night put “” marks around song of india & desert song in capital letters hit shalimar then cadillac red lips then **** like a seashell with a gin-soaked tongue start new line
all right does mcarthur stick his socks in the bathtune at night that’s bathtub the dog howls at the moon buries it in the backyard snakes lose their skin cocoa butter slick water on the brain of the big dark blond song of india **** **** **** big fish *** big v8 you ***** keep up with me painted rocks like a pretty tie fast car long legs and a broken heel now dead no not dead yet um estee lauder goes down on price-waterhouse in a swedish bath bellboy watching this is his reflection in the mirror no silver one-sided next line
big blond trampled by elephants with wrinkled knees starch is not chic all gone shalimar stirs the k-9 **** sequined *** in the moonlight cadillac red lips hungry dog eats tail becomes himself bad dog play dead okay what do you suggest bad doggie bad comma bad comma hungry dog go for the tongue you dumb ***** keep going new line
what do cactuses(i) have??? fronds fur what are their things called new line
dog hates gin go for the breast stupid ***** good dog dry dog poor dog pour blond water of life **** yellow a thai like painted rocks period next
i want head down legs up i want sequined *** only ****** level damp dampened dampest ***** panorama **** **** **** blue blue down there feminine azure with clouds too got it odalisque in blue period have mercy on me no no new ******* line what are you filling that thing up with okay stop it for now
4.6k
I am The Shoes of Shoes,
which are Solomon’s. Let him polish
me with the oil from his brow, for his gloss
is better than sunshine.
Because of the fragrance of thy ointment buffed
upon me, thy name
is Scent Shine, therefore do the ****** shoes
love thy feet. Stretch me,
with your Shoe-Tree, and I will run
& rejoice with thy feet through
gardens & woods, and across mountains alike.
I am leather, but comely, O ye Daughters
of Shoeshopingham, as The Pile Beneath
the Prophesised Viaduct, and as in the abundant
bottom of The Wardrobe of Solomon.
Look not upon me, because I am leather,
but put me upon thy feet for I
am thy soles.
I am the Rose of Shoe, and the Lilly of The Laces.
As the strong shoes among thorns, so
is my love among The Shod.
As the tongue that tightens to the fruit of the foot, so is
my beloved among The Shod.
His left foot is in my left purse, and his right
foot is my right, tight.
The Polish of My Beloved, behold, cometh
glinting off llyns, he cometh leaping upon
the mountains, with both of me tight on his feet.
Looketh fourth through The Round Window
of Wisdom, through The Lattice see
him shoeing himself with my flesh.
Take us the socked foxes, the little foxes that chew & spoil,
for our shodding is tender.
My Loved Shod’s feet are mine and my leather is his.
Until the day break, and the unshod shadows flee, turn
my Loved Shod, and be thou like the shoe young on the mountains.
Behold, thou art fair, my shoes, behold thou art shoes as fast
as a flock of goats over the Mountain of Shoedon.
Thy laces are like soft strands of moss, which have been spun
& woven in the Workshops of Acorns by The Grubs of Oak.
Thy eyelets are like the sweet slots in which nestle
the seeds of the pomegranate.
Thy tongues are like scarlet leaves fallen from speaking
trees, and thy squeak as I walk in thee is comely.
Thy heal is like the shield that should’ve been
fashioned for Achilles.
Thy two toe caps are as sleek & pert as the twin otters
that fish among the lilies.
How beautiful are thee, shoes for feet, O Goddess’s daughters,
the joints of thy soft foot-slot smooth as the gleam
of jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning cobbler.
O Solomon set me twin shoes as seals
upon thy feet, for Love is as strong
as The Road to Dead we must follow. O
my Loved Shod! for every one
of thy steps you make
in me is my bliss.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 8:25 AM UTC
A walk around the block in my parents’ neighborhood at dawn
wearing mom’s sweater and pop's sneakers with a clown hole cut out for
toe infection
I was stopped by a cop in a cruiser
this was during the Vietnam War long hair ago
he was angry at everyone I was offended by everything
he said which way are you going I said which way are you going
so he socked me in the mouth and handcuffed me
I was arraigned on disorderly conduct and resisting arrest
my good parents came down and stood beside me before the judge
I wrote to the police department internal affairs
not for retribution but to start a paper trail
in case this cop someday bopped one of my brothers
a few months later I’m back at work in NYC
two detectives come into the city to question me
one good cop one bad cop we park in the park me in the back seat
they wanna know was I mouthy to the cop who punched me in the mouth
long story short
they leave me on a bench to eat my lunch and the charges are dropped
Jan 18, 2022
Jan 18, 2022 at 6:50 AM UTC
Light this up real quick lighter
****** hear Sage and they go insane
Who's to blame
Lonely soul just a name you can't detain this brain
Scandalous
Triple six what the **** is sane?
Seeing kittens without the ******* haze
Stroke game long and fast that's Usain
Can't hear you over your girls moans, what the **** you saying?
Super lubin
Leaving all you spoofs
Stupid ****** leave me drooling on the stool
So above to even fall for these hoes cause they come and go like my sadness that makes me feel like a ghost
Too legit to even roast on my foes
Thoughts of overdose
But I can't die cause I am the Goat
Dismiss the dope
Very cynical
Self heal without the clinical
I've been there
I wish it was that easy but it was too difficult
Get it from the back and yo girl in fear
Always teased for being weird
Changing routes like I'm swerving the steer
Off some xanax and all the *** isn't pleasing my emotion to disappear into what's really real
That's death and thats what make you ****** squeal
Ruthless, heart of steel
All I see is snakes when I walk the halls
Down to ball
Never for a ***** money and nothing else
Helps me dwell
Living well trapped in this mental cell
214 ***** where I learned to be myself
Live to excel and to focus on my wealth
Dumb ****** live to flaunt what they cant even cop
Your girl pop lock and drop on this 7inch ****
Dumb ****** get socked up in this world like if their throats clogged
****** sour lime
These acts so undefined
Yo girl kinda fine my girl a ******* dime
The truth I'll help you find
In time we'll be divine and our hearts won't divide
I swear these ******* flinch when I leave em cause the sticky getting to the *******
Up on a podium on some potent
I told myself I'd quit cause I'm just a student
Bish yo man got them moobies
Bish I'm on yo girls mental movies
Bish we smokin some doubies
Bish we making moves
Bish keep up with the groove
Bish yo girl got them cooties
Bish you acting pretty goofy
***** not into materialism but this **** is Gucci
Bish we trip on some lucy
Takes me a minute to make yo girl juicy
Nosey ****** boogie
Bish I'm genius but I'm still pretty gloomy
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
Each of you.
My individual singularities, Dad’s One Thing.
Conceived 1955.
Driven home, progeny, made man, unequivocal, indisputable.
Post-war night spirits undaunted ~ stop ******* me.
*** for you, stopped me.
Can’t make it the way you want. Please stop.
Backing off, I respect real you.
Don’t push me Me.
Don’t dream.
Will dream us.
Short sentence for guilt whisked way beyond what crime could be.
We combine beans and seeds and gourds.
That’s science! Culinary!
Botany, true, but I’m enaturated.
Human pod progressed.
If that’s a word, don’t dream it’s not.
Forget every word.
But make each and every word count.
Then add stash, socked away.
I concede.
Mi casa su casa.
Paint it.
Together.
Made mistake then fixed it.
Copasetic dovetails, my lady and me (not I).
We walk talk island jib.
I like the cut of your yar across the moonlit pool.
Go around with me to all haunts, snow globetrotting shaken not stirred
My déjà vu in futurum videre, I can’t believe.
Asunder goddesses should be together,
While Isis and Osiris boogie like Beatrice and Dante encircled,
Their own private imbroglio invaded
By Goth end time alchemists conjuring copyrights for gelt.
You tell me this short story.
I cringe.
My mind clouds men’s, and then conjures Morpheus.
My shadow child joins me in Paradise,
Deliria dancing in concert with Shakespearean intent.
My daughter’s got more guts in one pinky
Than all that fallen pilot on our island bargained for
In the games that decided who’s hungrier.
You could have been that gal.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 12:21 AM UTC
To my life of my relationship that didn't work
To the map of the human heart
Sought at the age of 15
When I lost my virginity to a lady slightly older
Like most younger boys, it was based on the many lies i told her
Just to hold her and to show her
I had so much to prove
Like i had more experience than she thought i knew
And even though it wasn't true, It was amazing
But it ended because I did what most boys do
Listen to the lies and the rumors of a fool
Which ultimately led to this poor girl getting socked in the jaw in the middle of school
And even though I didn't do it,
I felt like i was the one to blame
Because the girl that hit her was the cousin of the man that insulted my game
Now a days it just doesn't seem cool
Now tell me what the hell am I supposed to do
Then a wise man told me "The only way out, is the way through"
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 5:33 PM UTC
Traveling (with Frost) down the lightly trodden path,
with shoed soles sauntering over thawed earth,
twisting down the narrow trail,
away from the prying eyes of tour guides—
Encompassed by flowery heads who mirror the sun,
who burst forth with fluorescent green necks
craning from the dirt,
delineating our path in cascades of springing splendor.
Sensing the ostinato of ambulant waters crescendo,
we soon break from the budding foliage—
To be greeted by gentle winds
and the lapping of placid waves
who break onto the languid shore
onto shoed and socked feet,
who sense holy ground and immediately
kick off their bindings—
To sink into the earth,
and gritty sand reaching up between toes;
the water deceptively inviting,
is greeted with delightful shrieks in its refreshing chill.
Secluded in our cove,
we gaze over the waters where to our right
rests a breathing reconstruction of the Dove;
we stand awed before these waters
both the settler and the native.
What gods were praised on these lands,
and in these woods,
and in these skies,
and in these waters?
And on March 25, 1634,
in the promising onset of spring,
what had they to sing in the calm airs
as the settlers crossed the threshold of the Potomac?
She whispers,
“Funny how the water appears green on the shore,
and clear on the river.”
--St. Mary's City, March 10, 2016.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 11:48 PM UTC
it goes from black and white to color so quickly
pulsating
over and over
socked toes curling back
knees quaking
delicious
head floats over neck
vertebrae crack
yum
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
this is the part where your feet share a slip on shoe
because you felt hot, and now you're cold again,
and one shoe is cozier than two.
honestly, watching a man inch past me with a dull red shirt
and a duller red walker to match,
socked feet swollen in brown Velcro sandals
makes my own legs twitch and my heart sing;
it reminds me to take a flying leap from this table
outside a conventional coffee shop
and kick my legs into a graceful stride
until I trip on a pebble and come tumbling down--
such is the art in my elegant facade,
of which I am only convinced.
really, I'm just here so I can write,
pretend that I'm a fancy published writer
with leagues of followers salivating
at the thought of new words from my finger tips
that frankly do type at hare speed.
I'm writing to the beats and poetry of your songs,
the playlist you created and shared
once you asked for my instagram handle.
enthralled is a good word:
I'm enthralled by you, by your presence
and the tiny amount of ****** hair under your chin,
how you arch your eyebrow and push back your long hair,
shorter on the sides all around.
when I close my eyes your hand is on the smallest of my back,
and you're guiding me in front of you, along a narrow walkway,
until we reach steep stairs, and we laugh at where we are
because we've both been here before, before this moment that
connected you and I and the others around us
who faded once morning grew near.
mocking vampires, we welcomed the sunlight and ran in its wake,
shoulders bouncing, hair whipping in the mist, laughing hysterically.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
I’m laughing with you.
We sit at my piano
Video media records,
and I have the pleasure of watching us toss our heads back
Breaking neck smiles.
Play back our giggles
Mismatched notes
We don’t search our own accord,
Clash of chords
corded around each key.
Sitting on that bench is wearing socks of different pairs.
I am a fuzzy mid-calf, and you are an argyle knee high.
Socked in laughter.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 4:30 PM UTC
I heard rumors and stories
but I thought that's all they were
I heard it from her
My stomach is in my feet
I can't breathe
My hands won't stop shaking
I feel sick
I swear someone must have socked me in the gut
Pouring salt on old wounds
On top of nostalgia of you
It's all so ridiculous
I'm going to give myself an ulcer
Merry Christmas
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 3:30 AM UTC
she wore hightops
and a tattered
old book bag.
and she liked
to tie
her red converse
to it's straps.
and walk
across
the fire escape.
the metal
beneath
her socked feet
was cool
and x-ed
and black.
she ran,
and she laughed
or she ran
and she cried
but she ran
and she ran
for it was all
she could do.
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 10:36 AM UTC
The season of indefinite dilemma,
Why are you wailing?
Should I choose between
The image and the shadow?
Hmm, Okyeman is still waiting
To choose between victory
And his twain brother, defeat,
Alright, Okyeman!
Give me back my bread
And take away my water,
No, give me back my water
And take away my air,
No, give me back my air
And take away my pride,
No, give me back my pride
And take away my life,
No, give me back my life
And take away my good name,
No, give me back my good name
And take away my nothing,
Ah, my bread is buttered with blood,
Whiles the air is still socked with tension,
Is that the Ashanti infantary approaching
Swiftly from the far west for bloodshed?
Can anyone cease the head
Of this nephew of Obiri Yeboa?
The head of this great King,
Osie Tutu is ours today,
Indeed, when crocodiles
Eat their own eggs,
What will they not do
To the flesh of a toad?
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 1:18 PM UTC
sleepy
it's one am. and the colors are flowing
remember those lights changing in the attic,
sloped ceilings and a hookah
we sat on the floor and he stared at the doorknob,
and we discussed the width of the closet
pillows on the ground,
people on the pillows,
faces in shadows, smiles and heavy-lidded eyes
love for those friends who aren't friends but are.
love for those friends who are more.
we drink we smoke we laugh we listen to grime and dance around the tin foil and smoke and the blinds are closed and the door is locked and we have to be quiet because shh, the neighbors. and I didn't know you before but now i do because you're drunk and i don't know what i am but i said hi and you adjusted your yellow beanie and smiled at me. you make music, i learn,
and we talk and we talk and we talk
then driving, the streetlights flood,
he said it was like surfing and that he was chill and he couldn't remember and he stepped in the snow with socked feet, he lost his birkenstocks
he found his birkenstocks
he flipped his hair and his red eyes were content
and then Let it Be came on the radio and I sang the tune while my legs twitched and my foot twitched on the gas pedal and she laughed from the backseat and I wondered how wide the road was and how much air there is to breathe in the world, and then the cold felt so great
red lights flashing, stop. go. home.
i'm smiling at the orange of the fire
there's a hamster running besides me and i wonder if he is happy
they were happy,
and i forget where the money is but she slipped it in my pocket
snacks in the kitchen
its one am
drink some water,
there's always Marcie's Diner in the morning.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
shhhhhhhh,
kick back put your feet up,
take a tea, let it steep deep,
open a red let the air go to its head,
get a book, shut it all down,
power off your phone and leave it alone
get off the grid, if there is one, with power
where you live,
flip the page as your mind steps on to the
terrain of words,
while your socked feet,
touch anothers under the cover of
not enough leg room,
but you care,
so you share,
the ottoman
as your imagination
goes to automatic and into the words
that create pictures and stir emotions,
that take you places and show
you faces,
and lives,
and living beyond, the hurt,
the superficial,
the ache that seldom goes away,
the real world,
that may have spit
and you are hurled to the side,
and it always seems to be on the wrong one.
Take heart, this too shall pass,...
whether it be poetry,
biographical history,
a short story, pulitzer prize winner,
a novel idea,
or a series with or without a quest,
may it be the best time you spend,
while being grounded in knowing
someone, near or far is reading
what you are reading and
is with you and with you and
is on the same adventure too.
©DWE122013
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
From where you're perched,
you can see the world
Well, so can I from these
snow-socked streets.
Slide across a frozen sidewalk,
meet me up for a drink.
I'm epilogue and yellowed,
when you're fresh off the press.
Winters never end, though the
temperatures rise
So buy
in,
I'll buckle up.
Shake me down
to my guts.
Ya know, we struck out looking
our last time up
But
the price is right
And
it's no lie:
I fuckin' love the way you smile
where you tighten your eyes.
I'll take a dive and catch you
when you fall from the sky
if you'll forgive the way I squint
into the Springtime sunrise.
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
I shuffle my "socked" feet to the window to see the blue and red lights flashing brightly.
A few minutes ago, sirens blaring loudly.
Now there's two police cars running idly.
Frantically a woman scans the vicinity.
A officer questions the woman both carefully and calmly.
I watch carefully from my five story apartment.
Its an eerie feeling, watching the police stand as idly as their vehicles in the night.
As if they wish they could've dealt with something more interesting than a domestic fight between man and wife.
One of the officers come out of the building with a respectably tall man.
His hands clasped together as his wrists were bound by cuffs.
I wasn't surprised to see that his demeanor was resonating a sense of, "I don't give a ****
The woman locked eyes with the guy and immediately began foaming at the mouth with anger, pain, contempt, and disdain because of beatings and bruises that she has obtained.
From Him.
He was calm, cool, and collected.
From what it seemed, nothing he regretted.
Unaffected.
Before his head disappeared within the police vehicle, I could've sworn i saw him smile.
The dispatch scratched through the car.
Complex codes and orders resonated from afar, as the cruiser quietly accelerated, then the siren blared through the cold brittle midnight air.
Quietly i stood there and stared and stared until the both the sound and sight of the vehicle was no more.
I shuffled my "socked" feet back to my bed.
Back to sleep.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
Shouts from the kitchen-
Your name crashes and engulfs you in its wake-
Your heart struggles to get farther away from your ears.
There’s always safety in the familiar-
You are your own stability.
The reflection of your face stops you short
And your hand reaches to feel the changes.
The anchor that was holding you here,
Holding you home,
It’s gone. Where will you drift now?
The clock with the chimes melts down the wall,
Its sound muted by your socked feet.
All that’s left is gentle
Pattering throughout that place,
That one that you called home.
If you’re not often still, then your mind forgets its chaos.
But now you sit with neatly crossed legs,
Eyes closed, and listen.
As your name fades and fumbles over itself,
You recall that little girl in the oversized heels.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
Mommy
little girl six years old
saw mommy in pain
ask what had happened to her skin
“they’re only from a game,
you see. Daddy likes to play”
she looked at mommy one last time
she saw her broken smile
another bruise across her cheek
that had stayed a while
she never knew why mommy played
a game that would only hurt
she accepted mommy’s cries of sorrow
she wondered about her blood stained shirt
mommy hid behind the couch
as daddy slurred his words
another drunken night again
another world of hurt
hiding under broken tables
surrounded by shattered glass
seeing daddy play his game
I wished it was a forgotten past
brother tried to fight him off
doing the best he can
saying ***** close your eyes,
it time to be a man.”
I couldn’t help to listen
to the few words he had said
I watched as he blocked poor mommy
he had stood up to dad
he took the first blows
daddy laughed as he saw brother glare
with hatred in his eyes
and plain emptiness there
brother got mad
and socked daddy back
he’d broken daddy’s nose
because of that ******* laugh
it held joy in all the blows
the things that broke mommy
all ones that made her cry
the ones that crippled her body
brother had saved my mommy
with the fourth hit he gave
daddy got knocked flat on his back
his self esteem had caved
we ran from that monster
and were saved by an angel
hes my brother
he's my mommy's savior
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 8:18 AM UTC