"starwars" poems
As I sat,
My childhood came back.
As I sat,
My dream came to me,
To be near the Death Star.
As I sat,
My life long need came to me,
To be a Jedi.
As I sat,
My desire came to me,
To be Luke Skywalker
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
when i was six years old my whole family went to disney world and being the self-respecting born and bred star wars fans we were, my brother and i cajoled our parents into letting us buy pictures of our little faces photoshopped onto the faces of star wars characters.
my brother? anakin skywalker. and me? aayla secura.
who you probably haven't heard of, even if you're a pretty big fan of the series. to get you up to speed, aayla secura was a jedi knight and a general during the clone wars era in the prequel trilogy, which is all suitably ******* badass, but if i remember right she has roughly five minutes of screen time in the movies and even less in lines. and you probably remember her as that one blue chick.
and if i remember right she was also one of about three or four female options for the pictures. sure, there was padme amidala and princess leia, who are badass ladies in their own rights, but see the thing is that no six year old watches starwars and thinks to themselves, "hmm, i want to be a politician!" you think to yourself, "i want to be a jedi." and the only option that was a girl and a jedi was a background character.
but that's the thing isn't it? being a background character, a love interest, a side-kick is something girls grow used to seeing themselves cast as. sure, we're in the movie, but with half the lines and screen time. never the center of the story. never the hero, just the pretty girl with fluttery eyelashes he saves. too often i found myself having to invent my own characters and stories so that i could feel that i was part of a narrative, too.
and suddenly, more than ten years too late for for six year old me but just in time for a whole new generation of little girls, the person in the center of the poster clutching a blue lightsaber like a beacon of the light side was a girl.
so this halloween as i'm handing out candy i will see myself in every little girl with her hair twisted into three buns and light saber in her hand and the galaxy in her eyes. finally, finally the story is about her.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
Let's stand around and talk about taxes and crime
Or watch it on t.v
Cool people only getting cooler
As alcohol leaks
I think I remeber leaving a party with you and falling asleep
on a dew covered hill
But I woke up in my bed
The shirt you had warn
Was pink and white through the haze
Remebering your face
But I still couldn't think your name
...I remember that you said you liked only
The old starwars
And your favorite Zelda
Ocorina of time
You got high with me and watched adventure time
And talked to me about the effects of ether on the human mind
You liked ska and doc martens
With only black laces
Japanese tea pots
BC ***
Black Jack Davey
Tattooed on your neck
You told me you were fourteen
When you last wore black lipstick.
"Far out"
Yellow Submarine
Mushroom picker
The
Tingling of your spine
As it creeps up your neck
I was about to fall away to oblivion
Until I saw your smiling teeth
I got all the way to work without noticing
Jen
And your number on my wrist
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 12:59 AM UTC
I'm watching your features fade
From our children's faces.
The pieces of you
Are flitting out
Of their personalities.
I can see our daughter's face,
My mother's curly hair
Framing it,
And your eyes blinking at me
From underneath it.
Her fingers are fast
On frets and strings
Like her father.
And she jumbles up the digits
On her math pages
Like her mother.
I can feel us hold her for the first time,
I can see you kissing her forehead.
The hardest part will be letting this go.
I can see our firstborn son,
Running up to me
For a kiss after he scraped his knee,
With Starwars temporary tattoos
Climbing up his arms.
I can picture the freckles
Sprayed across a nose like mine,
And a brave smile
From thin lips like yours.
I can see you running his dumptrucks
All over the house together.
I'm not just losing you.
I can picture our second daughter,
With fine hair from you,
Colored ginger from me.
I can see her muddy footprints
Tracked through our kitchen,
From staying out in the rain,
Just like her parents loved to.
I can see her toddling
Through our home,
My eyes staring up at me
Filled to the brim with tears
When she falls,
Your nose all red,
And my mouth
In a pout.
I'm losing them too.
I can imagine our youngest son,
Snuggled up on your lap,
With his daddy's scowl
From drowsiness.
Then my smile, and your laugh
As you blow on his belly.
I can hear him crying
In the wee early hours of the morning,
I can picture you holding me,
As I hold him,
Rocking him back to sleep.
I can see our children
Gathered around the dinner table,
And I know,
The hardest part will be giving up
This dream
I built with you,
This future we'll never have.
I'm watching them
Fade away.
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC
It’s more complicated than just forgetting,
the last time I saw you in that shirt
you had one hand on the steering wheel
and the other on my thigh as we drove down the dirt roads of our small home town
having a destination in mind but not caring when we got there.
It’s not as easy
as singing along to that old rock and roll song your parents played on repeat that weekend we spent with them
in that log cabin in the mountains
where we ate foil packs and slept out underneath the stars every night.
I’m way past remembering who left last because it’s more complicated than counting the butterflies as they fly past
that bush in the front yard
of your grandparents’ house where we spent what seemed like every day
that summer we couldn’t get enough of each other.
I can’t seem to forget the time you let me give you a haircut
after I had drank an entire bottle of wine
on an empty stomach because I refused to eat the dinner you made
out of fear I’d get fat and you wouldn’t love me anymore.
Now I realize, it didn’t matter if I ate that second cookie,
if I searched the sky for constellations with you,
or dreamed of living in the city because it doesn’t matter. You didn’t love me and I can’t go back
to arguing over whether we wanted Spongebob or StarWars mac and cheese.
I cant go back to thinking the blankets on your bed will protect me from the monsters in the closet.
Your arms were both a comfort and a weapon as you pulled me closer
grabbing my waist as sweet apologies flooded from your lips as the rain fell around us
coating me in memories and regret.
I wanted to forget tonight and every night
with you.
The pitter patter of rain drops hitting the pavement provided background noise as your hands danced across my body.
The thunder cracked and I realized no amount of blankets could protect me from the monsters in the closet
because they were inside us.
Living,
breathing,
searching for one another.
“Forgive me” you whispered kissing my hand like you did that first night we spent alone
in your room. You said you were sorry
but your green eyes couldn’t be more unapologetic.
The thing is this time I couldn’t just forget.
It wasn’t that easy
because you were more complicated than that.
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 12:51 PM UTC
I once saw a winter tree
With **** skewered on each branch
Next to the road
In the front lawn
Of my elementary school crush.
I once melted a coil of her hair
On a lightbulb
In her attic
I still remember the smell.
I do not remember the smell of the tree
I imagine it smelled like ****
I once watched return of the jedi
On a pulled out futon mattress
While my elementery school crush
And her two younger sisters
Explored each others bodies.
I ignored them.
I also ignored Carrie Fisher losing her entire planet.
Instead I watched their mother lose a game of majong on her dusty grey computer moniter.
She then sold some of the hoarder stash lining their walls on ebay.
This is where I learned to observe.
Being a fly in the tar pit is more honest then
Being a fly on the wall.
I do not remember the smell of starwars
I imagine it smells a lot like a woman
losing a game of majong.
I imagine it smells a lot
like sweat
and tears.
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 7:07 PM UTC
I had a dream and I was laying on the grass of a football field with a girl. we were just talking. I asked her who her favorite composer was and she replied "Mary lou Williams" I had no idea who that was and had never her that name before, I lean over and say "I have to check her out" she said, "Yeah, we can do that, you'll be in love", she asked me the same, I replied "Alexander Scriabin". She said, "I love his work, he was before his time and completely underrated" That was the first time I felt that feeling. You know that feeling when you don't feel completely different because someone knew what you were talking about... That feeling.
While sitting there, This guy walked onto the field and into the stands and asked if we could listen to him conduct and we said, "yeah". He puts his stand in place, raised his baton and began to tell us that people had called the piece "the Planets" but it wasn't holst, her and I looked at each other, looked at him then closed our eyes while he struck the downbeat to what reminded me of the StarWars opening mixed with Jupiter but Holst. She leaned in and I did the same. My heart was beating so fast... then my grandmother woke me up to tell me that there was still BBQ chicken from last night if was still hungry... YEP
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 2:21 PM UTC
They said there’s infinite possibility in the universe
So there’s possibility of hope
Who knows maybe StarWars is real
Or even a world where cruelty doesn’t exist
Who knows?
Maybe we have possibility
Infinite possibility
We just need to work for it
Or it’s just destiny
And we’re all drones to the system
Or maybe I’m thinking too much
Maybe I’m going crazy
Who knows?
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 1:27 PM UTC