"squinted" poems
upon the elephant rode a boy prince,
his royal command, he was there to evince.
dark with grace and dripping with youth.
bringing his men, his crown and his couth.
town after town he strode fierce through the gates.
and any detractors were left to cruel fates.
and on one windy day, as they strode into town.
the faces where tenfold and a hush passed around
the grey of the creature with knowing black eyes
swayed left towards the crowd as if to capsize.
and the mass gasped in horror; bairns seized by their mam.
men flung at young ladies, babes pulled from the pram.
the bewildered and flustered
tired elephant sat.
in the center of all on the bald pastors hat.
the old pastor looked stunned to see such a disgrace.
until he remembered, and composed his face.
'your highness' he bowed. his manners restored.
but the poor prince was toppled his mighty seat floored.
they gasped for the prince, just really a child
dressed in fine silks on this elephant wild.
pastor said, 'here now' extending an arm
hand wrinkled and gnarled from the land that he farmed.
then the guards sprung to life as if sudden awake
guns point to the man of whose life they would take.
and just as they squinted their eye for the aim
a boy sang out sweetly, 'sire he's not to blame!'
and the prince from street where he lay in pool
held up his hand and recovered his rule.
he looked at the crowd and he said 'boy now speak'
the boy said, 'prince it is the prayers that you seek.
the prayers that you'd visit. the prayers that you'd stay.
lord must of heard them and granted this way.'
his eyes wide with truth and the love of his church
the prince laughed a beautiful belly filled lurch.
the carriage was called as the prince shared a feast.
and even some water was splashed on the beast.
such a good time as he danced and he spun
till the horses arrived in the dust of a run.
to thank the town and the lovely haired boy
the young prince gave up his own precious toy.
the beast stays quite put in the center of town...
but prayers said no more...so the prince won't fall down.
sahn
04/10/2014
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
She was probably the most beautiful,
of any woman he had ever seen.
She turned every head
and stopped time from moving
and movement everywhere she went-
His mind went woozy as he thought of her.
From what he already knew
she was not only beautiful,
she was smart and
an accomplished professional.
Was this a sweet dream?
If yes, he wasn't prepared to wake up from it,
no not yet!
Maybe she was just a product of his imagination,
which was impossible considering that she was standing before him.
She was a woman of exceptional beauty,
probably the most beautiful woman
he had ever seen!
Helping her to her seat, he was overpowered by something.
Wait,it was the scent of her perfume;
It was the mixture of something
he wanted to think he recognized,
which he didn't and something
he had never before smelled.It was nice!
She seemed so flawless,
He thought her bath was prepared
in the constellations by beautiful goddesses,
and her bathroom was the milky way galaxy.
Yes her skin was undeniably radiant,
accentuated by the presence of large almond eyes.
"Wake up!" came the weak old voice.
Bewildered by the old barn keeper's presence,
and momentarily unaware of his location,
he panicked and squinted his eyes.
Oh **** he was asleep, this was a dream!
IB-Poetry©️
3/2/2018
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 3:24 AM UTC
A self confessed dreamer
One that knew no bounds
Can't keep his mind in tether
It's always fleeing from the grounds
He'd always been the dreamer
Picking the shackles of reality
Always hopeful of finding another
A safe haven, an escape, a sanctuary
Madness is thought of this silly little dreamer
Forever bartering reality for a life of fantasy
"He's moonstruck", said one to the other
Obstinate still he chooses to wander free
Alas one day, he stumbled upon a jewel
Glistening, deceivingly within arm's reach
But a beautiful game was played so cruel
Fate wouldn't give easily what it could teach
Glimpses of undefined beauty
Himself drawn closer to this beacon
He craves for this gem so madly
Didn't care for what's to happen
He descended to the surface
One thing he just did realise
That the jewel wasn't in its place
But a reflection of another in the skies
He looked up, he spun and he squinted
Attempting this search he had just begun
For a moment he found himself to be blinded
For the jewel is indeed the sun
He marvels at her beauty
Till his eyes turned red and sore
But he doesn't stop even briefly
For she's the object of his adore
He gazes at his newfound muse
Till the day grew dim and late
When she sets he would hesitate and refuse
To return willingly to his ****** state
Through promise he returns daily
To catch his sun as she would rise
For she fills him with aplenty
And she listens to his forlorn cries
He loves her much as she did him
In each other's magic the two would bask
As time flits by, the day grows dreadfully dim
Too short a time from dawn till dusk
The dreamer waits patiently
As dusk turns to dawn
The dreamer waits painfully
For she will come then she'll be gone
This rise is somewhat special
For his love he had made known
She admits the love is reciprocal
For him her love had also grown
But the dreamer will soon come to realise
Out of reach his sun he can never kiss
Her bountiful love will be the ultimate prize
The prize he can never claim to be fully his
*"Silly little dreamer feeding your childish dreams"
"Silly little dreamer what fanciful notions you make"
"Silly little dreamer you'll be ripped at the seams"
"Silly little dreamer not every heart you just can take"*
He pays no heed to what the others say
He knows his chances run exceedingly slim
He's walking on tightrope that's doomed to fray
But what happens today is what really matters to him
I am that silly little dreamer
Whose feet is never on the ground
I have chosen to live part of my life in wonder
For it is you that I have found
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
*I stopped by for a cigarette and to hear a story
He always told the tale of one eyed molly
She lost her eye
In a fight with a dog
The moral of the story was
Never trust something
Just because it may look harmless,
Even act harmless
But this day he told me another tale
The one of old Lumberjack Dale*
He was large like an ogre
Chopped too many trees to know of
Was stupid according to my uncle
This gave me quite a chuckle
He left off, on a normal morning
Hiked up the mountain
To where the clear dirt’s mourning
Held his axe and began to swing
The trees didn't have a prayer
He thought he was king
One fell down
He yelled "TIMBER"
Another smacked the ground
He Yelled "TIMBER"
Then another
and
Another
Birds were scattering
Squirrels were flying
The sounds were of a madman grunting through fire
"TIMBER"
The fifth hit the ground
The lumberjack ogre
Had to sit down
He swung one too many times, on this here day
The mountain swung back with a black bear, ok?
Protecting her cubs she wrestled the big man
Teeth in his arm and his axe in his hand
He squinted his eyes and flung the weapon
Missing the giant bear standing about 6' 11"
The mountain whispered to the lumberjack
"Leave and never come back"
He had ****** his pants and ran for the shack
"TIMBER"
The old black bear followed
Protecting her land
And the ones she adored
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
They all can see
They stare at us with eyes squinted
Prying mischievous eyes
Our every move noted
At the corner of my eye
I can see them exchange glances.
Whispers roam and coat my senses
Let them know
Let them see
This love is different
Why can't it be?
All we want is to be happy
To love who we want
Body and soul freely.
They don't understand
We don't have to make them understand
We just need to hope that maybe
Our happiness can be their happiness.
Barricades of questioning and disgust
Their opinion doesn't define us
Stand proud for you are strong
Defying the boundaries of love itself.
Are there even boundaries?
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
like red lion parts
crotch rocket
nut cup
anything done behind
a dumpster in the dark
yes, always
because you never liked how
light peeked through my thin
hair
or how I squinted
my eyes when I kissed you
“Just close them all the way
*********
of course, I obliged
anything to keep you
away from your mother
anything to keep you
out of the garage
the sulfur smell
the demons in your
drinking marble
but god,
the vibration
the car peeling out
on the driveway and
“Here take this.”
all of me reminded you
of her
all of me
“Rest, darling. Rest.”
and every time the night
ended with unclothed gin
bedspreads like
forts and painted
walls
“Go **** youself.”
and all was lost
my body
my grief
10 pounds lighter
sweat soaked through
the carpet
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 9:29 AM UTC
I touched a flower in my pocket..
Picked it up, and promptly dropped it.
It's bulbous, squishy, and it's sopping.
I was afraid of what it was.
I took a closer look at its mutant colors;
Squinted at it for a second 'nother.
It felt like death, it felt like butter;
'Twas merely the head of a rose.
I sighed out the panic that had rushed inside me.
While sadness-stricken, serendipity survived thee.
The mere smell of that rose, nostalgic and lively
Wrapped around me and extracted my pain
Such a simple notion made such a difference.
I shall thank the friend by whom it was given;
He'll never understand the powerful significance.
That flower saved my night.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 12:59 PM UTC
It's not even romantic
But I'm going to write a poem of every boy I met.Not romantic,
It's not that I had met a lot of men.
On that morning
you played ukulele,
I sang along with the lyrics
Creep, Blur,anything
The morning light shined through your squinted eyes
I can still see the dust swirling, dancing in front of the sun-bathed face of yours.
Naive,friendly,happily
We were singing to each other
The other two are non-existence.
You are so warm, comfortable to be around with
A Belarusian boy ,aspiring to speak good Chinese.
You paint, you cooked and made desserts
Always at ease at hitchhiking
through Kazakhstan and China
I felt that you secretly want to try to escape from what you had
from Belarus to Czech, then to this mysterious Eastern world, a bit communist.
And then to Taiwan.
This is for you Ilya, a friend for only a day and night.
You're too delicate for me to handle as you have
skin like milk and heart of seven seas
Smile like a 5 year old in a swing.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
I keep my head up,
lips snarled and puckered,
teeth show,
nose high,
squinted eyes,
you can see death in them.
I look to the left,
I look to the right,
now it's time to fight,
3-2-1 take flight,
we go all night,
keep my fist packed tight,
and if I lose I'll be back looking through my iron sight.
This is the law of the land,
dog eat dog,
tooth for tooth,
an eye for eye,
kill or be killed,
I'm a killer with a blood instinct.
Came up in the mafia vicinage,
we live life this ain't no scrimmage,
live by Omerta it ain't no image,
living life without problems is a privilege,
when you start talking to cops you finished,
that's how we get down in my evil village,
nothing changed we all living vintage,
I can see you coming in with your gimmick,
don't try to test my limit,
I'm Popeye on steroids and spinach.
Rimani persone reali.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
The griffin outside my balcony
squinted and shook
flipping Kansas City
upside down and back.
Giant flakes descended
like softest down -
coating the plaza below
with a mantel of frosted white.
The griffin is squinting once more.
Watch out; hold on tight!
Here we go again
whirling about in a cyclonic flurry
of magic fairy crystals.
August, 2010
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 4:11 AM UTC
Gin. That’s where it starts.
The squinted eyes and mumbled speech
I go too far I know
I can barely see where I am going
and you cannot understand a word I say
But these are just a side effect of my confidence
which happens to come in a bottle
Do you think I’d be talking to you,
kissing you,
loving you, without the gin?
Of course not
Falling in love with strangers is the love I feel
So yes I need the gin.
I need the gin to be able to converse
and kiss
and go home with strangers
So I can feel something
You go ahead and find a nice boy who will romance you
But me, I’ll be leaning on a bar,
flirting with boys who buy me drinks
You go ahead and make love
i’m content with my one night stands.
I’m sure he could love me if he knew me
You go ahead and fall in love and get married.
I’m lucky, because you fell in love once
I fall in love every Friday night,
Saturday night… sometimes Wednesday nights
You see, for me, gin is love
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 7:33 PM UTC
The flat pasture was disturbed by a dip
A markèd groove in its dark, mossy surface
I tipped my head over the hole, inching gradually towards the centre
Smooth and immaculate
The water served as a perfect mirror; my face against the dusky sky
I squinted into its inky eyes, searching for familiarity
But curiosity got the better of me
And I fell.
The initial contact was the worst:
A shock of cold slapped my face and I saw nothing
But an ominous blur of dappled green light
The heavy water pushed me further – down, down –
To uncertain depths
Movement stung my skin, so I decided to freeze.
Unconsciously I drifted to the mouth again
And shot up
Spluttering and gasping; the air was damp and heavy
Pathetic and sopping, I crawled out and sat beside the edge
The sky had darkened a little
Though there were still enough streaks of blue for the pool to reflect back at me
Pure as before
I tried to emulate this static perfection
But drops and tears ran down my body in a restless stream
And I couldn’t control it.
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 7:38 AM UTC
delicate and limp
they lie between the spaces
amongst hard print on factual papers;
occasionally unrealistic figments
of self deluding fantasy.
“they’re luxuries”, you mumbled,
a lament towards their rare materialization
in your few hours of slumber;
the soft impression leading souls
up the garden path,
misleading for they were
not all that pleasant.
midway after sunset
your heavy breathing is the
silence i hear; your silhouette
limp against the amber lights.
they came once again,
desperation had come
once again.
you squinted into the distant darkness,
“oddities veiled by a coat of blur,
though a fantasy felt as tangible
as the touch of skin;
i’d fall endlessly down the pit.
most of all, pathetically i had no one to
catch me.”
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
Had a flashback.just now.
Sitting in the diner. Eating eggs and toast.
A girl walked in wearing painted on jeans.
Guy across from me squinted as he stared
At her from behind. Thought he
Was going blind or was about to cry
Got something in your eye? I asked.
The onion he said.
Oh yeah. Said I.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 1:13 PM UTC
There are flowers springing from my bones
in places they were never planted
fracture my skull and call it apathy
I say pain is a better road than dying alone;
can't you see the way my vision is blurred,
squinted too long at the sun now I think I've done damage
burned holes in my corneas before the age of 21, but those are just
surface things, right?
the road feels a lot longer when the cold air hits all my soft spots, like my neck so I cover it up
pooling all my efforts into growing thicker blood that will keep my skin warm
;keep kissing bruises on my arms, thinking that love will heal each new halfhearted attempt at self-sabotage
or manage the leftover evidence;
did somebody forget their brakelights on?
I'm trying to figure out how to get these needles out of my head
rocket science, learning to reverse detonate what might be left
in my system
system check, leaving sticky residue
behind me in my heavy concave tracks
softly trailing back
gotta learn to do it right the first time before I backtrack
my ears ringing like a sound clap;
bringing up old war wounds like we've lost gives us some sense of entitlement
things we don't want to lack,
leave the last stack
where I can mull over the aftermath
digging graves for those who are still alive,
burn my skin tonight
burn it right off my bones so I'll know I'm alive
still kicking like the second round
the afterthought that realizes what went down the first time
don't let me out of the house tonight,
god knows what I might find.
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
*I open the cupboard under the stairs,
fetching my bag from its hiding place.
It waits,
So patiently,
for me to name the day;
the day I leave for good,
and today,
is that day.
I check the contents,
just to make sure,
all is in order.
I open the front door,
applying pressure,
as I cautiously pull.
My face is contorted with concentration;
squinted eyes;
clenched teeth.
It must not make a noise.
It cannot make a noise.
please,
don’t make a noise.
I’m outside.
This is it…
I stand.
I think.
I muse the future.
What will they think,
of me?
Will they understand?
Will they sympathise?
Or will they view me as…
A symbolic abomination?
The personification of,
cowardice?
A father,
who didn’t care?
I open the cupboard under the stairs,
hiding my travel bag in the same place.
Once more I return.
Once more I indulge the monotony,
once more…
Just once more.*
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 9:28 AM UTC
As soon as I heard the rumble of my husbands car
fade into the distance,
I put down my Bible, stepping out of bed.
I smoothed out the covers, like always.
because I'm not one to leaves things messy
because cleanliness is close to Godliness,
that’s what they say.
I fiddled with the faucet
testing the water on my hands.
The kids don’t like it too warm.
I left the door open
so I could hear the faucet running
all the way down the hall.
I opened the bedroom door
and squinted as I flicked a switch.
Let there be light!
Three sleepy faces peeked out at me
from underneath their blankets.
Such precious eyes looked up at me.
Poor things,
Daddy had just put them to bed.
They yawned and blinked their shiny eyes
and we all held hands as we walked down the hall.
They told me
Mommy, Mommy, it’s not bathtime.
I answered,
No, it’s not bathtime, it’s time to go.
They asked and asked,
but I just smiled down at them.
What curious little miracles!
The boys went first.
I placed one hand on each of their heads,
my fingers in cornsilk hair.
Their confused wailing
bounced off of the tile walls.
I silenced them with shushing sounds.
I told them don’t be afraid.
Don’t be afraid, Mommy’s got you.
Mommy won’t let go.
Mommy won’t ever let go.
I smiled at their tiny, twitching hands
and laughed along with their gurgling voices.
I wish they wouldn’t have splashed so much.
That’s just like the boys;
they were always making trouble.
How inconsiderate of them
to leave less water for their sister!
I laid the boys down to rest
and gave each one a kiss
on their clammy foreheads.
They were side by side on Earth,
now side by side in Heaven.
I lined them up next to each other
Like sweet little packages.
Little packages sent up to God.
I left my princess to float.
She just looked so pretty I couldn’t move her.
I could see her so clearly
once the splashing had stopped
and the water settled.
She was so beautiful
with her hair swaying
just beneath the surface.
My perfect angel.
I left her to float
like Moses on the River Jordan.
With my little cherubs put to rest,
I return now to my Bible,
but this time it’s not for reading.
I place it in the oven
and lay my head on it
like a tiny sacred pillow.
So that I can rest too.
and I'm not afraid
because it's time to go.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
I loved you by the way you squinted when you sang really loud in the yellow car. I loved you by the way you looked into my eyes as if to say, "I get it. I'm here for you. I love you too." I loved you by the way you kissed my forehead. I loved you by the way you loved me- especially when I couldn't correctly tell you how I felt, but you knew what I meant anyways. I loved you by the way you kissed me under the waterfall, and in the rain, and in the snow, and in the burning sun. I loved you.
You hurt me by the way you looked away when I began to cry. You hurt me by the way you lied. You hurt me when you ignored me. You hurt me when you asked me to move on- time and time again. You hurt me when you told me one more kiss wouldn't hurt anything. You hurt me every time you said you had to go. You hurt me when you could never tell me why. You hurt me.
I love you because whenever I picture happiness, you are it. I love you because you never gave up on us before, and now it is my turn. I love you because you are my rock. I love you because you are my person. I love you because you still love me, even though you are trying to stop. I love you- because even despite you breaking my heart, I am willing to start all over with you.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
This one is for the ugly girl
Who wears her awkwardness like a kick me sign
Who stares at you with squinted eyes
Mouth agape
Thinkin’
I really wish I understood this mess
She is not an ugly duckling
Passing time till that one moment where
She just shines
No
It was just me that day watchin you in the audience
The way you play
Like your fingers were hammers
It sounded like a warning
And suddenly we all knew there was a fire going
Vagrant and unnoticed in some corner of the world
But you managed to hear its sound
And pounded it out for as long as it lasted
So I went straight home after
That fire burning in the hollow of my chest
I wrote this
This is for you
The girl who does more than just wear her heart on her sleeve
She wears it like a compound fracture
Sticking out of the front of her chest
Red like an apple placed on the head of a small child
And there’s always someone with a bow and arrow
Bulls eye is always heartbreak
Near hits a dime a dozen
People say she’s ugly but her heart is huge
Not because she’s nice
But because its swollen
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 10:53 PM UTC
My life isn't much, save for bleakness that had lasted long
It was dark time that made every right seem wrong
Finally a day came when everything was altered
It was the height of period when I would surely have faltered.
Like rays breaking through the thickest of clouds
Like blades ripping through the heaviest shrouds
The rays they illuminate and allowed me to see
The blades they cut and slash, to reveal so desperately.
With the light shining bright, hand up ready to shield
Out of the shrouds arms open, welcoming what it may yield
In between my fingers, through the gaps I squinted
I find myself in awe with my feet firmly planted.
A beautiful vision that is worthy of an artist's canvas
Bewitching blue eyes, face framed by streams of golden tresses
Releasing a gasp, I could hardly believe what I'm seeing
It was a moment where beauty had lost it's original meaning.
This moment I wish to have the word hastily redefined
For our eyes have connected with rare magics that bind
She smiled with the promise of freedom that I yearn
She embraced with love that caused my fire to brightly burn.
"Burn forever", I said to my heart's raging fire
"For she has love in abundance that'll never ever tire"
She spoke, "I have come as the answer to your mournful cries"
"I have come to be steadfast and wipe the tears from your eyes".
'Twas a moment that I felt grateful, she had found me
'Twas a moment that I felt, I will never be lonely
'Twas a moment that I felt as if time had stood still
'Twas a moment that I've been granted the freedom of will.
Such liberation I felt was worth waiting all these years
Such anxious relief I felt, that had washed away all my fears
I can finally breathe and through new eyes I clearly see
That you came into my universe, you rescued, accepted and set me free.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
Lined with age in faded denim
Squinted eyes and jaded smile
Sauntering through dusty courtyard
Remembering back here awhile.
Sadness tugs me back to recall
Recall of that young girl when,
Laughingly she stood in denim,
Clear blue eyes which sparkled then.
Tragic how the years have jaded,
Criminal how time applies
A caustic pall to all that’s lovely,
Attitude and tearsome lies.
Wish that I could haul me back there
Roll me back to young and pure,
Pluck the innocence from history
Transit back where truth endured.
Transit back uncomplicated
Back to where it all began
Happy kids in dusty courtyard
Faded denim, making plans.
M.
April 1963
Cairns, Nth. Queensland
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 11:26 PM UTC
THIS IS A CALL TO ARMS TO ENFOLD ANYONE WE CAN REACH
We are malnourished of blankets and binkies
Mother’s breast and meaning
We are earthquake spirit lands rumbling for peace
We are a bright light that plays on squinted eyelids so that you may see
We are the kaleidoscope of what is and what could be
We are
KINGS AND QUEENS
Not worker bees.
We are dry mouths and cracked lips thirsty
Drinking crying eyes and kissing empty hands
THIS IS WHAT I FEEL FROM THE TIED DESOLATION OF A PROMISED LAND
We are seraphim
Selling ourselves on suburban streets
We are cherubs
Peddling angel dust to children’s gums
Slipping LSD under their tongues
HOW FAR WE HAVE STRAYED FROM OUR RIGHTOUS PATH!
We are a fall from grace that knocks the air from chests
So we may realize what it is to BREATH!
IN! OUT!
We are One from within
With or without sorrows or the tedium of tomorrow
We are our crystal innocence and reptilian rigidness
We are a mirror
Reflective of all that surrounds us
We are the lush trees and the desolate land bound by fences and man’s prosperity
We are the lake
Warping realities reflection with ripples and rhombuses that wrinkle our surface with every stone skipped
Galaxies teeming underneath
TAKE OFF!!!!
Become what we didn’t know
Find the eternal reassurance that no matter what will be, is, or was, WE WILL BE!
https://soundcloud.com/spiritbarehear/call-to-arms
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 5:41 PM UTC
oh, my god,
stop praising little girls for being "tiny" and "slender" and "willowy"
for being skinny.
because the scale offers validation
and eating cheetos and twizzlers and cookies and candy without gaining a pound becomes an accomplishment
a sharp and boasting laugh
ha, ha! i can eat all the **** i want
and still be /skinny!/
because a girl will feel pride
in her ballerina legs and bony joints
and guilt
in her best friend wishing she were as small.
because "skinny" stops being an adjective
and becomes a definition.
because being skinny becomes
owning stacks and stacks of size zero jeans
but ******* and shimmying and squeezing your *** into them
(god forbid you buy a size two.)
skinny becomes looking flat in the midsection
but only if you eat triscuits for lunch that day
becomes seeing the outlines of individual ribs
but grabbing with a grimace the layer of fat and skin that covers them
becomes standing with legs spread apart and back tilted and eyes squinted
and looking maybe kind of like a forever 21 model,
until you sit and your thighs melt into huge endless expanses of tissue
becomes avoiding the bathroom scale because you told yourself two years ago you'd never get above double digits.
becomes knowing that most girls would **** for your body, or for the absence of your body - for the carved out spaces where flesh could be.
becomes feeling guilty, feeling ridiculous, feeling ungrateful
becomes never admitting to anyone that you feel anything but skinny.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
squinted eyes, glaring, peering, or just looking
inwardly and not really seeing me
and sometimes there is a little more ****** hair
just maybe i will take the time to shave or at least trim
enough to be presentable
every morning i look in the mirror
darkened eyes, with deep circles of worry and stress
questioning not only my life choices but even my very sanity
just what i need, more acne, pimples, black heads
what happened to this going away after the last signs
of puberty faded from my voice
every morning i look in the mirror
twisted smile half convincing more than knowing
where i have been and what i have gone through
where is my toothbrush and toothpaste
its not like i can blame someone for moving them
i am the only who uses this bathroom now
every morning i look in the mirror
tired eyes half closed and open just enough to see the light
as sunshine creeps in from the window
and you know its time, to wash the sleep from them
and face yet another day in her world
knowing understanding realizing
every morning she looks in the mirror too
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 9:17 PM UTC
She thinks if she travels to foreign lands- even if
it is only by dating an ethnic man- that she can
scale the high walls of the borders between what she
was taught and who she hopes she is.
Having followed blindly her predestination programmed life
she can’t resist taking squinted peeks through the
tiny open slits of vision, hoping to find her true self.
“You are losing the faith!” her anxious mother warns
as though to do so would be an inherent flaw,
not a conscious choice.
But Mother’s own faith
has been slipping through her hands for the past
30 years, and only that promised salvation can save
her from the indiscretions that fill the non-rapturous void
left-behind by mister Christian-right-wing-man.
Taught well by mother, father, and god, that men
must be assessed in a purely logical fashion,
“Agree on finances and childrearing and you will
have happily ever.”
But she feels fake, and does not know how
to peel the plastic wrap off her personality.
You can see its bindings in the way her eyes implore you
and how she clasps her hands on her lap by rote.
She is the pink peg in the Hasbro Game of Life car
with guilt trip road blocks, detours and poorly folded
directional maps. Spinning the wheel in search of tour guides:
What should I read? What should I think?
But that only gives her new mind instructors.
Perhaps instead of foreign languages and foreign lands,
the verity lies in the realization that mother
probably feels fake too.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC